#there will be genuinely real smut tomorrow i swear on my life

[mythals-whore]

Day 5: Bestiary

full piece on ao3

(divider from THIS post, thank you @flowersforthemachines)

The beginnings of his monster manual are scattered across its surface: drawings, wood shavings, and various notes. Davrin settles into the desk chair with a sigh, shuffling through it all.

It's been in the works for years now, every monster he ever faced—and some he hasn't. Always on the move, sleeping on forest floor and in strange strange taverns there was never much time to be dedicated solely to the prospect. The bestiary was just constant notes collected in a leather-bound notebook. An odd sketch here and there. In the past several months he's been busy cataloging the new forms of darkspawn they've encountered, as well as all the strange new creatures in Arlathan. The face (if it could be called that) of one of the fade-creatures they've run across in Arlathan stares up at him with it's bloodied petals and many, many razor sharp teeth. They haven't yet come up with a name for them—all of Rook's suggestions have been unhelpful. Bellara's even more so.

Davrin decided he'd agonize over such things later. He didn't want to wind up with a name like 'The Gloom Howler' a second time round.

Though a quick leaf through the pages has him snagging on something else. A sketch of Assan curled up by the fire, his neck and chin laid flat on the carpet, feet bent at the elbow juncture and tucked in close to his body. No better than a housecat. There were others of him, too. None as anatomical as his other drawings.

Rook teased him about it just the other day, having snatched a page of Assan off his desk upon a remarkably soundless entry.

I didn't take you for an artist.

Davrin had rolled his eyes. He's hardly that.

The drawing came out of necessity rather than passion for any kind of art. In the early days of monster hunting, Davrin was in far over his head. There was a monster terrorizing a local village in Rivain—a dracolisk, he found out later. It's hide was too hard to pierce, adorned with too may spikes and scales, claws sharp enough to rend a man limb from limb with a single strike—which Davrin very nearly learned from firsthand experience. No matter what he tries, nothing seemed to pierce it.

So he made the trip to Dairsmuid.

He went first to the circle of magi, which was where he encountered his first problem. Describing a large beast with claws like needles and hide like stone didn't get him much of anywhere.

He was directed to a bestiary written by a man that Davrin still isn't sure had even seen half the monsters depicted in those pages. The Varterral was all wrong, rockwraiths certainly take more than one arrow to kill and the author hadn't even bothered differentiating the brand of wyvern that spit acid from the ones who spewed fire. At the very least, Davrin thought a mage would have known what a rage demon looked like.

Ludrik certainly could have fooled him.

A year later, he was near Ventus, dealing with a Chimera—likely unleashed by blood magic. Davrin still bears the marks of that one too, along the back of his left shoulder and thigh. There was a scholar in the city he'd heard of, Balmor.

Davrin had taught himself to sketch by that point—they were rough things, but descriptive enough for him to find information when he needed it. Balmor, expert that he was, couldn't recognize a chimera if its serpent's tail had wrapped itself around his throat.

Davrin had already been keeping track, then. His own knowledge and experience stuffed into a small, leather bound book that was often wet, it's pages punctured more than once. He learned to sketch fast and remember the small details for later. That last part wasn't particularly difficult. Davrin actually found it difficult to forget the rancid, noxious breath of a harpy or the exact number of teeth inside the mouth of a great wyrm.

It was a skill more than a hobby at the start but Davrin supposes it'd be a lie to pretend it wasn't both, sometimes. At least the whisper of charcoal pencil on parchment is unlikely to wake either of the current residents of his bed.

And somehow, staring at a blank page, Davrin cannot even conceptualize a monster he's yet to draw.

Except one.

[theemporium]

[3.5k] luke hits the west coast for his first long roadie of the season with some unsettling feelings about leaving jersey for so long. who would have thought his biggest problem on the road would end up being looking at his caller id over the actual hockey games he was playing? (smut)

series masterlist

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hockey boy: u up?

Luke Hughes had never felt like more of a fuck boy than he did the moment he had sent the text—which was ironic when he was quite literally the opposite of a fuckboy.

He hadn’t even meant for it to come across that way. Genuinely, he did not.

Despite being officially in the NHL for over a month now, this was the first time Luke was going on a roadie across the country whilst wearing the New Jersey red on his back. Most of their away games had been in nearby cities, where they would maybe spend a day or two in another city before returning to Jersey. 

But this was the longest one yet—a full ten days in the west coast for games against San Jose, LA and Anaheim. 

He wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal, that he was used to the life of hockey taking him to new cities and states. But things were different in the NHL. The stakes were higher, the games meant more even this early in the season, things just felt a lot more intense.

But it felt stupid to confess as much to his brother or any of the other boys when he literally played in the playoff games last season, when the stakes were the Cup. 

However, Luke couldn’t shake off the weird intensity of the roadie. He played off Jack’s concerned looks with some bullshit excuse that he was tired, that he was just struggling to sleep these days. It didn’t wave away his older brother’s concern but it got him off his back for a little bit. It let Jack focus on a different concern and not the real reason (that felt borderline childish to admit) that he felt on edge about leaving Jersey for so long. 

And it meant that Luke was laying in the hotel room alone whilst Jack was out with some of the other guys on the team for dinner, embracing the one free evening they had before the game tomorrow against San Jose. 

He had flipped through a variety of shows on the tv and scrolled through endless apps on his phone before he gave in, his finger hovering over the send button before he clicked it.

It hadn’t even hit him how his text sounded until your reply came through a few moments later. 

cherry🍒: damn hughes

cherry🍒: you gonna ask me what i’m wearing next?

His cheeks instantly burned hot, something quite like embarrassment and awkwardness bubbling in the pit of his stomach. 

At least it was hard to focus on the upcoming games when he was too busy thinking about the quickest ways to flee the country and change his identity. 

hockey boy: absolutely not 

Luke’s fingers moved fast on the screen, already drafting up a second message when your reply came through. 

cherry🍒: rude :( 

cherry🍒: maybe I had something special on for you 

And that was enough to make his brain go blank, the sentence he was in the middle of typing long forgotten as he stared at the words on his screen. He almost felt guilty how quickly his imagination came up with images of you back on his bed, just like his birthday party, in something short and sexy and—

He almost dropped his phone on his face when it began buzzing in his hand, scrambling to sit up in his bed as he answered. 

“H-Hello?” He cleared his throat, his face burning warmer when he heard your laugh on the other side. 

“You sound a little caught off, Hughes,” you teased, lighthearted and playful. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“I—no!” Luke exclaimed, though something inside him relaxed when you laughed again. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. I swear. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I didn’t think so considering it’s been five minutes since my last message and you hadn’t replied yet. Not really setting the mood there.” 

He shook his head, his lips twitching upwards. “So you’re saying you’re not wearing something special for me?” 

“Unfortunately not. Just some sweats and a hoodie.” 

“Hm,” Luke hummed before frowning, taking a quick glance at the time on his phone before he swore under his breath. “Shit, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

You laughed and something in his chest tightened as he imagined the soft smile on your face as you did so. “No, I couldn’t get to sleep. I was just watching some random episode of The Vampire Diaries before you called.”

Luke blinked. “The what?” 

You fell silent for a moment. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

He paused as well before he spoke in the most unconvincing voice. “I’m joking?” 

“Forget watching it, how have you never heard of it?!” 

“I don’t know!” Luke defended weakly, shuffling back further against the pillows. “Is this your subtle way of telling me to watch it?”

“No!” 

He frowned. “No?”

“I want to watch it with you. I want to see your reactions.” 

Luke snorted but he didn’t disagree, something fond and warm bubbling in the pit of his stomach at your insistence. “Fine, deal,” he mused. “But it would have at least given me something to do.” 

“Wow, is Jack that boring of a roommate?” 

He laughed. “Nah, he went out with some of the other guys for dinner.” 

“You didn’t feel like joining?” 

“Not really,” he admitted. 

“How come?” 

“Just…didn’t feel like it,” he said, his fingers tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as the spiralling thoughts began to creep in again. Like a reminder he wasn’t just lying on his bed back in Jersey talking away to you on the phone, that he was actually on the other side of the country. 

And it seemed like you sensed his reluctance, the shift in his voice like he seemed distant and you wanted to pull him back in.

“So you try to sext me instead?” Your voice was playful and taunting and he could imagine the smirk on your face so clearly. 

“Shut up,” he groaned, his cheeks burning once again. “I didn’t—”

“You so did.”

“That was not my intention at all,” he retorted. 

“Damn, Hughes, didn’t take you for a phone sex kind of a guy?” 

Luke could only thank some superior being above that it wasn’t a facetime call, that you couldn’t see how bad he was blushing. “I am neither a sexting or phone sex kind of guy.” 

“Boo, it’s more fun than you would think.” 

His nose scrunched up. “I don’t know.” 

“Don’t knock it until you try it, Luke.”

…

Despite being in two very different states, Luke had found himself on the phone with you most nights of the roadie so far.

It wasn’t really a co-dependent thing, like Jack liked to tease him about when he caught Luke waiting for your message saying you were free to call after the game in LA. It was a similar feeling he had with his friends back in Michigan or his brothers, this strong urge to tell you things. He wanted to share it with you, he wanted to tell you about something stupid Jack did in the locker room or the weird drink Curtis smuggled him at dinner. 

And in turn, he wanted to hear about your day too. He wanted to hear about how the nice barista at the coffee shop on the way to work gave you a free cookie because she fucked up your order by accident. He wanted to hear about the way your upstairs neighbour had taken up tap dancing and seemed to only find eleven o’clock at night the most appropriate time to practise. He just wanted to hear you talk. 

Luke was at least self-aware enough to realise he was being a bit insane with the phone calls every night when he was only gone for over a week. But day six into a ten day roadie and he just kind of wished he was chilling on your couch when listening to these stories rather than a nondescript hotel room he shared with his brother with limited privacy. 

However, the phone calls had become such a routine over the last few days that he didn’t even think twice when he picked up his buzzing phone, answering and putting it on speaker as he walked towards his suitcase in only a towel. 

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for your call,” Luke said, an easy smile on his face as he quickly grabbed some clothes to change into after his shower. 

“Really? I didn’t realise you missed me that much. I miss you too, dude.” 

Luke froze, his eyes widening as he snapped his gaze back towards his phone. He quickly grabbed it off his bed, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ when he realised it was Ethan, not you. 

“Luke? You still there?” 

“Uh yeah,” Luke cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just came out of the shower. So, uh, what’s up?” 

“I caught the game, just wanted to make sure you were alright. Looked like a tough game but you were killer out there, bud.” 

He paused, his lips twitching upwards. “You watched the game?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, dude. The boys watch every game we can. Our boy is in the big leagues! We gotta support you.”

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his chest tightening a little.

“We miss you on the team, gotta get our fix somehow,” Ethan joked, lighthearted and playful. 

And yet, Luke felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Despite flying out for his birthday party, he hadn’t really been messaging the boys back in Michigan as much as he should have. He knew they were also giving him space to settle into the NHL lifestyle and they were busy with classes and such, but his own surprise from Ethan calling confirmed enough that he needed to reach out more. 

“I miss playing with you guys too,” Luke confessed, and it was true. He loved the Devils and he loved living out his dream but a small part of him itched to be back on the ice with his UMich boys again. 

“Yeah but you never threw us around like that.” 

Luke let out a groan, ignoring Ethan’s laughs. “I didn’t mean to knock him over like that, it was just the momentum!” 

Ethan’s laughs only got louder. 

…

It was the night before the Anaheim game when Jack had all but bolted out the room, muttering something about hanging out with Trevor and that he would be back before dinner. 

In all honesty, Luke didn’t question it much. He just waved his brother off, saying he was going to have a small nap before he started getting ready for whatever restaurant Trevor had booked for them (assuring that it would fit their diet plan but Luke wasn’t convinced). Between the travelling and training on the road, Luke found himself more exhausted than he was from back-to-back games in Jersey.

And he genuinely was going to nap until his phone buzzed with a message from you and he found himself dialling your number before he could help himself. 

“A call already? You didn’t even give me a chance to try sexting you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what the point is.” 

“I like hearing you get all flustered and nervous.” 

“Yeah but it’s not really the same thing, is it?” He commented, running a hand through his curls before tugging his hood back over his head. “Surely it’s just a bit…awkward.” 

“It can be hot if you do it right,” you corrected him. “Personally, I think phone sex is better but it can be fun to sext too. Like a thrill, you know?” 

“Yes because nothing sounds sexier than talking about sex,” he mused.

“It’s not like that,” you laughed, shuffling around on the other side of the phone. “Think of it like…foreplay.” 

His brows furrowed together. “In what way?” 

“You aren’t together but you’re telling each other what you would want to do if you were. What you wish you could be doing. And you’re listening to it all, listening to them get off to your words.” 

Luke swallowed harshly. “It still sounds awkward.” 

There was a pause on the other side. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, shifting a little in his spot. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to facetime them and see them?” 

“It’s about using your imagination, Luke,” you hummed, sounding amused by his grasp on phone sex. “It’s about taking the scraps of what they tell you and letting your brain run wild with it.” 

He let out an unconvinced hum.

“Still sceptical?”

“Maybe.” 

There was a small pause before you spoke again. “You’re alone, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Luke nodded, even if you couldn’t see him. “Jack won’t be back for another few hours so—”

“So you can be a good boy for me?” 

His brain went blank.

“C’mon, Luke.” He could almost hear the smirk in your voice. “Remember what we said about words?”

“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I can be…good.”

“I know you can, you’re always so good f’me,” you commented, so nonchalant and casual like your worlds didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. “Tell me what you’re doing right now.” 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m lying in bed, talking to you. But you know that—”

“What are you wearing?” 

Luke glanced down at himself, the Devils branded hoodie and UMich sweatpants hardly the sexiest of outfit choices but he muttered out his response regardless. “Isn’t that the exact line you teased me about earlier?” 

“You telling me you’re wearing something special just for me?” 

He snorted, despite himself. “Hardly.” 

“That’s fine. You look better without anything anyway. A shame you’re all the way in California, would’ve been nice to have you all to myself.”

He gulped. “Is this where I use my imagination to guess what you’d do to me?” 

“If you want,” you said, laughing softly and it almost felt like you were right there beside him. “Or I could tell you how I miss hearing those pretty noises you make when you come, the little moans you let out when I touch you.” 

“Shit,” he muttered. “How do you just say those things so…easily?” 

“Because I know what I like and I’m confident with saying what I want. And I really like making you come, you’re always so sweet. You get so blushy and shy, it’s cute. I could only imagine what you’d be like when I get my mouth on you.”

Luke squirmed, his hand reaching down to press down on the length of his cock like it would ease the way he was twitching at her words. 

“Would you like that, Luke?”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathed out, nodding even if you couldn’t see him.

“Bet you would look so pretty, all shy and nervous to touch me even if you wanted to,” you continued, his eyes fluttering shut like he could pretend you were really in the room with him, like you were really whispering all of this in his ear. “But I would want you to, Luke. I would wanna feel your hands in my hair, wanna see you take control.” 

“I would,” he mumbled out, his hand slowly stroking himself over his sweatpants as he imagined it. As he imagined being sat on your couch, with you kneeling between his legs and your eyes glued on his reactions. It made his whole body feel hot and flustered. 

“Yeah, baby? You’d take control? Fuck my mouth?” 

He was almost embarrassed by the noise he let out.

“Are you touching yourself right now? Letting your imagination fill in the blanks?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded. 

“Good, baby, good. Keep touching yourself, keep making yourself feel good.”

“Wish it was you,” he managed to mutter out, his cock straining under the fabric of his boxers and sweatpants. However, any embarrassment or lingering awkwardness was long gone as he pushed them down to his knees, not even bothered to kick them off as he got his hand on himself. 

“Yeah? Me too, baby. I wish I was with you now, could watch you squirm and beg f’me with your dick down my throat.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, squeezing the base of his cock as he tried to mimic the night of his birthday, to mimic the feeling of your hand on him instead. “That’s…vulgar.”

You laughed, and it shouldn’t have been so hot to him but it was. “Too much? You don’t want me to talk about how badly I wish that it was you touching me right now?”

“You’re touching yourself right now?” It was almost a wheeze, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs and it hadn’t even hit him until that moment that you were in the same position as him. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, all sweet and high-pitched and it reminded him of the noise you made just before you came on his fingers. “If I was more patient, I would’ve got a toy. Would’ve felt way better.” 

“Toy?” He rasped. 

“Jealous?” You teased, unaware of the way Luke turned his head to the side, biting down on his pillow to hold back his groans as he continued to stroke himself. “I’ll show you when you’re back.” 

“Show me on yourself?” 

“I can use them on you too, pretty boy, if you could handle it.” 

“I…could,” he muttered out, listening to the breathy, moany laugh on the other side of the phone.

“We’ll see,” you hummed. “Maybe I’ll send you a video for your next roadie. Keep you occupied while you’re away.”

“Nuh uh,” he bit out, shaking his head. “This. I like this. I like hearing your voice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his stomach twisting as his thumb swiped over the head of his cock and rubbed the small bead of precum along his slit. “S’close.” 

“Come f’me, wanna hear you come.”

It was a bit of a mindfuck if Luke was completely honest with himself. The pleasure running down his spine, leaving his body hot and heavy and just as good as it did when he was with you didn’t make sense to him. Listening to the little breathy moans and whines you let out when he came all over his hand, as he listened to you get yourself off shouldn’t have made his dick twitch so soon. He shouldn’t have been able to make himself come so hard just from some dirty talk from you, and yet he had. 

Though, Luke didn’t have a lot of explanations when it came to the way you made him feel.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah,” he hummed, his eyes still shut as he laid on the bed, practically melting into the sheets beneath him. “Kinda need that nap now.”

You snorted. “You should clean up before you fall asleep.” 

“Five minutes,” he murmured out, a lazy smile on his face as your laugh echoed through the phone.

…

He was rushing to button up his shirt when his phone rang again. 

He was already running late for the reservations Trevor made for dinner (if the constant stream of messages from Jack was telling him anything) and his nap lasted longer than he expected. But he couldn’t bite back his smile as he reached for his phone, his thumb already swiping to answer the call as he rummaged through his suitcase to find his cologne. 

“You’re out of luck if you’re wanting to go for a round two,” Luke mused once the call had connected, an odd wave of confidence in his voice as he spoke. 

“Round two of what?” 

Luke froze, yanking his phone away from his ear to see Quinn’s name on his screen. He let out a muttered ‘what the fuck’ under his breath, an odd sense of deja vu from his phone call with Ethan washing over him before he quickly answered his eldest brother. 

“Uh, nothing,” he laughed off, resisting the urge to yank on his own hair after he had spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes trying to make his curls look presentable. “Just some…exercise challenge thing Jack and I were trying out.” 

“And you think he would call you about it? Aren’t you two together right now?” 

“Yes. No!” Luke shook his head at himself. “No, he’s in Nico’s room right now.” 

“I thought you were getting dinner with Trevor?” 

“Right,” Luke laughed once again, awkward and strained. “We are. He just…had to tell Nico something first. You know Jack! Just…always attached to Nico’s hip.”

There was a moment of silence before Quinn spoke again. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I feel great, actually! Speaking of, I need to go so I’ll call you later. Okay, great, bye!” 

He slammed the small red button until the call disconnected, throwing his phone down on his bed and letting out a long, deep sigh. He really needed to start looking at his phone before answering calls, it was getting a bit ridiculous. 

Luke finished getting ready, shoving some shoes on and making his way towards the elevator as he began typing out a message before slipping his phone into his pocket, already preparing himself for Jack’s whining about how late he is by the time he reached the lobby.

hockey boy: remind me to give you a personalised ringtone when i’m back in jersey

.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Baseball Jack!! Baseball Jack!! Oh, gosh I sure love Baseball Jack!!

I swear I hear the crack of a bat every time you post another chapter of this story, even in chapters without games. But even though there were no pitches thrown in this one, RUNS WERE STILL SCORED IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. 😏 To anyone who hasn't started this story yet, hop on NOW - and make sure you properly hydrate before part 3.

I was SO excited to see a new chapter of this story, and it was definitely the mid-week pick me up that I desperately needed. The fact that it was A Smut on top of that was...*gasp* it was the cherry on top of the ice cream (because they went out for ice cream first, get it?) But as I said to you yesterday, yes, it was A Smut, and yes, it was Hot. But it also showed so much of Jack's character, and I couldn't help but fall a little more in love with him because of that.

First of all, Reader having a "pinch me" moment in the driveway when she asks herself if this was really happening, like did I really put myself in scoring this position by inviting him here? Is so real and relatable. Equal parts "stay calm it's happening" and "excuse me for a minute *screams*" and 100% warranted because if Jack Daniels just pulled his Bronco into my driveway, I too would need a reality check.

But it's real. He's really there and this is really happening. And he can sense right away that she's nervous and instead of ignoring it or just deciding to leave, he makes the effort to put her at ease. I bet most of the women he's with don't seem nervous when it gets to that part of the night, because they were aiming for this from the start. So when he sees that she's a little overwound, it's probably refreshing and maybe even a little endearing to him to know that she's not assuming things, that she's unsure of how this might go, that she didn't invite him there to starfuck.

If he smooched me like that every time I got nervous it would definitely make me feel a lot more brave about life. Just saying.

The fact that he jokes and laughs and admits to hating folding his laundry all as they're leading up to the main event here feels so Jack. He's charming to the Nth degree, and what is more charming than a man who can make you laugh or smile or make you feel instantly comfortable? Not a lot.

The little things we learn about him in this - the fact that he has a housekeeper but cleans his own room/clothes, the rules that he has for nights like this one - it all points to how careful he is about how he presents himself and how he could potentially be portrayed if someone wanted to harm his reputation. It also points to him being a very private person, despite being such a public figure. We also learn that he seems open to this becoming more than a hookup when he's in town, which is very telling because he definitely wouldn't have a hard time finding others to spend time with - he's choosing to drop these hints like "it's just this time I can't stay because I need to be up early tomorrow" and that was before anything even happened in bed so we know he's interested in seeing where this could go.

Him saying no to a blowjob was a shock at first, but his reason - because they don't know each other well enough yet - not only makes sense, but it makes him seem so much more genuine. That's a lot to do for/with a person you don't really know well. It also shows restraint and it's just going to make it more meaningful when/if it does happen and I am excited for that. (Him offering to still use his mouth even though he just said no... I almost screamed out loud in a Dunkin' because that's him that's Jack.)

The way he looks at and touches her before they get started. The position he suggests (I know it's because of his injury but DAMN he went with such an intimate position!). The way he's holding her before and during... this is casual sex that feels comfortable. It's a first time but it feels almost familiar. And I think it's because there are already some feelings that are a tad stronger than just attraction.

Oh, and, FYI the "I need to fuck you" TOOK ME OUT. 💀 And "next time you're in charge" brought me back to life.

Another point for this already meaning more than a hookup? The way he had to come back for one more kiss/more touching before he left. The way he had to leave but clearly wished he didn't have to. He's into this woman - maybe for the first real time since losing his wife - and I know it's still so early in their time together but when you know you know... and it seems like they both might be thinking.

Rachael, I love this story and this version of Jack so much and I am so excited to see where it goes and how these two continue to get to know each other and how Jack's first game back in the majors goes. Thank you for writing it and sharing it with us all. It really is a treat.

On Deck Part 3: Ducks on the Pond

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 7,433

Rating: NSFW - smut, language, feelings (maybe. just a little)

Summary: Having Jack in your house is more than a little overwhelming - but when you realize that it's what he really wants, everything changes.

Author’s notes: 

This chapter was a hell of a lot of tun to write. Trying to strike a balance between what I know happens and what is happening here was a struggle; hopefully you enjoy.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out.

“Ducks on the Pond” is another term used to describe runners in scoring position. To be considered “in” this position, a player must be on either second or third base due to previous play action. When this happens, any batted ball that results in a hit is likely to score one - or more - of the runners. These players are ready and waiting for the current batter’s action.

He parked in the driveway next to your car, turning his head to look through the window and at you. Did I actually invite him back to my place? Jack waited to get out until you were standing in the driveway, motioning for him to follow. I did. Shit.

There was no other way to describe it: you were nervous. But you were also excited - and you hoped that that emotion was the one that would win out. I didn’t think it would get to this point. I never really believed I’d get the chance to have him here.

He was quiet as he entered your house, but by the time you’d set your bag and keys on the counter, Jack was talking again - and you liked the way that the sound of his voice filled your home. “I like this place.” He’d stopped to take his shoes off by the door, glancing up as he undid the laces. “Smells nice.” He straightened up, looking around at your front hall and into the living room. “It’s real lived in.” 

“I moved in when my uncle offered me my job.” You crossed your arms over your chest, stepping back toward him. “I don’t … plan on staying here forever, but it’s worked out for me so far.” Shrugging, you gestured with one hand. “It’s just me, so it’s all I need. I’m sure it’s smaller than yours, though.”

“I actually just have a condo here.” He sniffed, reaching up to scratch the side of his neck. “It’s nice, but it’s nothin’ fancy. Not real big either. My place back in Texas?” Jack groaned. “That’s home. And it’s a hell of a lot bigger.” You’d seen the pictures he posted online - nothing seriously revealing, but still enough to give you an idea of what his houses looked like.  “And I’ve been livin’ out of a hotel while I rehab, so this is much bigger.” He winked. “You gonna give me the grand tour?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I… come on.” You gestured for him to follow you, wincing as soon as you turned your back. Of course he doesn’t want to stand around and talk. He came here for a reason. No matter how much fun you had with him that day, Jack’s interest in you was likely purely physical. He’s not here to be a friend. “Bathroom’s right here.” You pointed, clearing your throat. “And my bedroom’s -”

Jack said your name, the sound of it freezing you in place. As he spoke, asking you to turn around, you felt his hand on your back before it slid over to your hip and was joined by his other one on the opposite side of your body. What is… He waited until you were facing him again to continue, his tone softening. “Are you nervous?”

“A little.” There was no point in lying to him, and you figured things would go smoothly as long as you were on the same page to start. “I’m not … this isn’t something I do often, and especially not with someone I just met.” 

“Can I make it a whole lot easier for you?” He stepped closer, his hands still on your hips. “No pressure. I didn’t come back here with you because I expect anything, even though it was implied.” He smirked at you, but the expression wasn’t unkind. “I would like to kiss you again, though. And since we’ve already gotten the first one out of the way, I figure the second will -”

You moved quickly, leaning in and tilting your head - and when you met Jack’s lips with yours, some of your nerves dissipated. His hold on you tightened, Jack groaning - but then he pulled away, his eyes wide. He looks shocked. Should I not have … oh, no. “Jack?”

“Didn’t seem too nervous there.” He winked again, straightening his shoulders. “Good. That’s real good.” You agreed, your eyes flicking over to the side and then back to him, your smile growing. “Do you want to keep going and show me that bedroom, or go back to -”

“I’ll show you the bedroom.” You bit the inside of your lip, eyes locked with his. “We’re already pretty close.” He laughed quietly, his fingertips brushing against yours when you turned away and started walking down the hall. “It’s a little messy, so -”

“You should see mine.” He entered behind you, Jack’s voice low. “I hate puttin’ clothes away, so I always have two baskets: one clean, one dirty.” You huffed out a laugh, scanning the room for anything embarrassing while Jack kept going. “And my underwear drawer? Pfft. Nothin’s folded. Socks either.”

“I figured you’d have someone doing your laundry for you. Maybe a housekeeper.” You leaned against your dresser, crossing your arms and watching as Jack took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Your schedule has to be really busy, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do is clean your kitchen or the bathroom or -”

“I do have a housekeeper.” Jack winced. “But she doesn’t touch my bedroom or my laundry.” Interesting. “You got me pegged, huh?” 

“It was just a guess.” You uncrossed your arms and pushed forward, heading for where he sat. “But… yeah, maybe I do.” He smiled at you, the expression genuine and reaching his eyes. “And Jack?” He hummed, waiting. “Laundry sucks, so I can’t say shit about the two baskets thing.” 

Jack’s laugh filled your room, and before you realized it was happening, he reached out for you and hauled you into the bed with him, both of you rolling onto the mattress. You braced yourself with both hands, ending up on your back. When you felt Jack’s weight atop you, you gasped, the sudden realization that Jack Daniels was in your bed flooring you. 

“You alright?” You nodded, staring up at him. “Good.” His eyes moved over your face, Jack’s smile locked in place. “I made you a promise at that park, an’ I think it’s time you let me follow through.” 

“I do too.” Swallowing, you cautiously reached up, putting your hand on his shoulder. “If you can.” He rolled his eyes before taking a breath, and then Jack was closing the distance between the two of you. Why am I challenging him? I already know he’s going to live up to it.

Your heart thumped in your chest, the beat slightly erratic. When his mouth met yours, your lips were already parted, giving him the perfect opening. He took it, the tip of his tongue poking out to meet the fullest part of your lower lip - and at that feeling, it was you that reacted, your hold on him tightening. 

And you moaned when he pushed it between them, your mouth opening wider to accommodate Jack’s. His response was to deepen the kiss further, his tongue stroking along the edge of yours, one slow drag after another. He was right. There’s nothing disappointing about this. 

You raised your hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, but when you pushed your fingers into the silky strands of his hair and pulled, he broke away, backing off with a grunt. “That’s what you like?” I mean… yeah. “Me too.” 

“Jack, you -” You didn’t get to finish the sentence before he was kissing you again, that one slightly messier and nowhere near as deep. It was followed by a series of shorter ones, each of them purposeful. 

In all of the fantasies you’d had about Jack, none of them included the fact that he liked to make out. You’d assumed that he would have just gone for it, uninterested in foreplay and wanting to get right to the main event. But I’ve never been happier to be wrong. 

You combed through his hair again when he moved his lips from your mouth to your cheek and then down over your jaw, his mustache dragging over the thin skin it met. And you angled your head so that he could move even lower, Jack’s mouth trailing down the column of your neck until it reached your shoulder. He paused there, sucking gently, but you didn’t even attempt to speak until your felt his tongue moving over the same area, leaving a damp trail in its wake. Before this gets too far, I need to … 

“Jack, wait.” You pushed him away, and he let you - propping himself up on his good arm and giving you a chance to collect your thoughts. “I don’t want to get carried away. Do you have…” You trailed off when you felt his fingertips moving along the inside of your forearm, though this eyes remained on your face. Unfair. This is unfair, he … “Do you have a condom? Because -”

“I do.” He nodded, his expression serious. “Not specifically for today, though. I just carry ‘em with me.” That didn’t surprise you - but his next words did. “And if we’re gonna do this, I’ve got a couple rules.” Oh. Rules? What … “No pictures or video. You left your bag in the other room, so I’m not worried about that.” You nodded, deciding to wait before you replied. “Anything that can be seen when I’m in my jersey … you can’t make marks there - nothin’ from your mouth or your hands.” That made sense to you, too, and you nodded again. “I’m not gonna stay over.” He looked apologetic at that revelation, Jack licking at his lower lip briefly and then giving you a tight smile. “That’s just for tonight though, it’s not a general rule. It’s because I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow to go to the stadium, and then I’m drivin’ back before the game, so I need time to pack.” 

“OK.” Your voice was quiet, heart still beating wildly. So it means he stays sometimes. Just not this time. “OK to all of those. What -” 

“And one more thing.” Something else? “I’m gonna need you to keep pullin’ on my hair as much as you want to, darlin’, because I like that a hell of a lot.” Good. I like it a hell of a lot, too. 

That made you laugh, but it was a short sound as you leaned in closer, nodding your agreement. “You got it, Jack.” Slipping your fingers back into his hair, you pulled on the strands, which earned you another low groan from him. You liked the sound - maybe a little too much. Detouring from another kiss, you turned your head to the side and craned your neck so that you could speak into his ear. “Take off your shirt.” 

He froze at the sound of your voice, but it only took seconds for him to push his weight off of you, Jack sitting up on the edge of your bed and taking a long breath. “You gonna do the same?” He tilted his chin down, the smile creeping back across his lips. “Now’s a good time.” 

You sat up, too, but you didn’t move your hands. 

Instead, you waited to watch as Jack used his left one to grip the bottom hem of his t-shirt before pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Holy shit, I’ve never seen anyone do that in real life before. “Jesus, Jack. That …” He grinned and then stood up, giving you the opportunity to stare as he positioned himself in front of you. 

He was gorgeous  - even more so than you’d imagined he would be. You let your eyes roam from where his jeans sat low on his waist, up and over the slight curve of his belly. Jack put both hands on his hips, which made his muscles flex again. As your eyes continued their journey upward, you bit down on your lower lip. “You see anything you like?”

“You know I do.” Humming as you eyed his broad, freckled chest, you shook your head slowly. “Can’t believe they make you cover all this up with a uniform every night.” 

“I try to show a little skin.” He shrugged. “Always keep a couple buttons undone.” That made you laugh again, and when you realized that Jack was the type to joke in the bedroom, you shivered. I’m going to enjoy this. “I think it’s your turn to do the same.” He was right. You’d stalled slightly, enthralled by the sight of him. But in order to actually take the night further, you’d need to remove your clothing, too. 

“I can do that.” You didn’t stay seated, though. Standing in front of him, you also pulled your shirt over your head, letting it drop beside your feet. He reached out, both of his hands sliding over your sides, and at the first contact of his palms to your bare skin, you gasped. “Jack, y-” You didn’t get to finish. He urged you closer, hands moving over your body so that one could settle against your lower back, the other traveling up to stop between your shoulders. 

Both of yours found their way to his stomach, your fingers curling inward. “I forgot somethin’.” He spoke quietly, tilting his head so that he could kiss your cheek. His facial hair tickled your skin with each word, Jack continuing to speak the closer he got to your mouth. “Probably don’t need to say it, but my shoulder’s still not at 100%, so we also need to be careful with that.” 

“Of course.” You agreed, and your hand slid lower, fingers catching the button of his jeans. “The last thing I’d want to do is hurt you right before you’re set to come back.” You popped the button and then moved your hand to the zipper. As you undid it, he dragged the edges of his nails across your skin. It made your back arch and pushed your chest against his, which is what Jack seemed to be waiting for. 

Things moved quickly from there, both of you impatient to rid each other of your remaining clothing. 

You undid the zipper while Jack unhooked your bra, both of his large hands sliding apart so that the could grab the straps. By the time you were pushing his jeans down and over his hips, he’d eased the material over your shoulders so that it dropped down your arms, the elastic catching on the crook of your elbow.

Being so exposed in front of Jack after such a short time should have scared you. It should have worried you, especially after the other women he’d likely been with throughout the years… but it didn’t. Instead, his touch thrilled you, and when he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to the side, you opened your mouth to tell him - and were cut off with a searing kiss. 

He wasted no time, mouth locked against yours, his lips parted and the tip of his tongue prodding against the seam of your lips and waiting for you to give him access. Oh, Jack. It didn’t matter to you that what was going on was likely a one time thing, It didn’t matter that within a few hours, he’d be dressed and gone. 

Because for the time being, he was there, with you. He was in your bedroom, with his hands and mouth on you - and yours were on him. And he started this. The kiss continued, Jack deepening it as his fingers curved around the back of your neck, keeping you close. 

You broke away with a gasp, letting out a shuddering breath. I need to focus for a second. Jack’s eyes were wide, but before he could question you, you reached down and undid your only remaining button. Here goes nothing. You glanced down to watch as your pants followed the same path his had taken, sliding down your legs before you could step out of them. You caught a glimpse of him then, the material of the trunks he wore straining to contain a sizeable bulge. Ok. That looks … 

Almost as though he could tell exactly where you were looking, Jack reached up with one hand to adjust himself. At the sight of his hand against the dark material, fingers curled around himself, you sighed, licking your lips. I want to know how he tastes. “Can I -”

“No.” Jack cleared his throat and then said your name, waiting until you were looking up at him again to say anything else. No? What did I - “We don’t know each other well enough for that yet.” Yet? Does that mean he wants to know me better? “Hey.” He used one finger to tip your chin upward, his mouth lifting in a smirk. “That’s my own rule, but that doesn’t mean it applies to you too.” The tip of his tongue flashed between his lips, his eyes locked on yours. “I’d like nothin’ more than to -”

“No.” You backed away, your own smile growing. If I can’t go there, neither can you. “We should play by the same rules. Make it fair.” He looked surprised at that, both eyebrows shooting up, but Jack didn’t question it. Instead, he bent over and reached into his jeans pocket for his wallet. 

Flipping it open, he pulled a condom free and then turned away from you, setting it - and the billfold - down onto the tabletop next to your bed. You used the opportunity to stare at his back and the way his muscles flexed with each movement, his skin smooth. 

There was a smattering of freckles over his shoulders that you knew you’d think about each time you saw him on the field, but after only a few seconds he turned to face you again, one brow arched. “Bed?” You couldn’t speak, and so you just nodded in reply, forcing yourself to turn away from him and climb back in. Ok. Ok, it’s happening, and he’s going to … 

You felt his hands on you before you could get settled, Jacks’s fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear and then tugging. He eased them down, and when you straightened your legs and laid down on your stomach, folding your arms beneath your head, he removed them completely. 

Jack was silent for almost too long, and when you turned your head further to see what was wrong, you gasped. He was standing next to the side of your bed, staring down at you - but instead of both hands hanging by his sides, the fingers of one of them were curled around his length, the man as naked as you were. 

Jack stroked himself slowly, and when he saw that you were watching, one side of his mouth crept upward in a sly smile. “Found somethin’ I like lookin’ at, too.” 

You were fine until he winked. At the sight of that, you breathed out his name, both eyes closing. He laughed quietly, and when you felt the mattress dip a few seconds later, followed by the brush of his knee alongside yours, you knew what he was going to do. 

He swung his other leg so that he was straddling your thighs, and then Jack leaned forward, one hand flat on the bed next to you to support his weight with his uninjured arm. He touched you with the other one, fingertips trailing over your curves and then up, and your eyes flew open at the feeling of his mouth following those fingers, pressing kisses to the exposed expanse of your back. 

You would have been content to let him kiss his way up the entire length of your body, but only moments after you felt him run the tip of his nose up the line of your spine, Jack spoke again. “Roll over.” He nipped at your skin, the edges of his teeth dragging, and before he got out the next word - a quiet please - you were moving, slowly flipping over so that you were on your back and staring up at him. 

There was a warmth in his eyes that surprised you - and you wanted to take advantage of it. “C’mere.” You brought both hands up, one of them resting against his shoulder and the other urging him to move his face toward yours. “Let me k-”

“Not yet.” Jack nipped at the heel of your hand and then ducked down, zeroing in on one side of your chest. His lips closed around your nipple and when he sucked, your back arched, fingers tightening against his arm before you gasped and muttered the word sorry, moving it down and toward the space between his shoulders. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sucked harder and then released your skin, flicking his tongue against it a few times before you felt the graze of his teeth. 

You moaned then, wanting him to hear how turned on you were, and it was the right decision. 

He switched to the other side of your chest, mouthing his way across your sternum. When he reached your other breast, you groaned out his name, hips rising from their place on the mattress to meet his. He swore at the contact, but Jack chased your movement with his own, even as he lapped at the curve of your skin. 

You felt how hard he was - the length of him hot against your lower abdomen, a warm, sticky smear dragging against your belly with every short thrust of Jack’s hips. “Jack.” You whispered to get his attention, heart thrumming in your chest. “Jack, hey.” He raised his head at the sound of your voice, but he didn’t sit up, instead staring at you with his chin pressed against your heated skin. “You’re too far away.” Using your free hand as a demonstration of your words, you slipped it between your bodies. “I can’t reach you.” 

“That what you want?” Jack wet his lips, taking a deep breath. “You wanna get your hands on me?”

“Yes.” Dropping your hand, you pressed it to your belly. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Jack straightened up then, sliding both knees forward and then settling back so that his weight rested on his calves. Your gaze dropped from his face to his chest and then lower, and before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it, you were using both hands to push yourself up and into a sitting position, widening the spread of your legs just enough so that you could bend your knees and plant your feet to help you balance. “What do you like?”

“I’m gonna like whatever you do.” He leaned in, voice low. “So don’t you worry ‘bout that.” Those words were all you needed, your eyes closing as you met him in another kiss. That one was slow, and it was you that slipped your tongue between his lips first, the sound Jack made almost too quiet to notice. But you liked that, didn’t you. 

You wondered if he could hear - or feel - the thudding of your heart, the beat of it traitorously quick. He knows. He’s gotta know. You reached out slowly, your fingers closing around Jack - and when you stroked him for the first time, the thrust of his hips toward you was immediate, Jack’s kiss turning hungry. He held you close, one arm wound around your shoulders, the other hand pressed flat against your lower back. Wait, though. Wait a second … 

Releasing him, you pulled your hand away slowly, and when Jack mumbled your name, backing up, it was your turn to wink. “Just a sec.” Averting your eyes, you looked down, hoping that he would do the same. Am I really going to do this? The sight of him - so close to the apex of your thighs - made the decision for you. Yes, I am. You slid your fingers between your own legs, coating them. 

“Oh, fuck.” You heard him - and knew that he was watching. Good. “Can I -”

“Yeah.” You let out a shuddering breath and moved your hand back to him, your slick fingers gliding up and down his length. “Yes, Jack.” He scooted back a few inches, and though you never broke your rhythm, it changed the angle, making it easier for you to pause at his tip to swirl your thumb around and over it a few times before giving him another firm stroke. 

He rested his forehead against your shoulder and stared downward between your bodies, Jack’s breathing quick. And when he touched you for the first time, it caught you by surprise - the press of his thumb turning into a slow circle of the digit. Then it was you that cried out his name, hips jerking forward and your grip tightening around him. Fuck that feels good.

He couldn’t do much else with the way you were positioned, but when Jack lifted his head to meet your eyes again, he grinned at the sight of your face - mouth hanging open and both eyes wide. “Lay down.” He swallowed, closing his eyes and shaking his head briefly. Wait, what? “Lay down.”

“But I won’t be able to -”

“I know.” He moved his hand, letting it rest against the crease of your thigh. “Lay back.” You stroked him twice more and then did as he asked, reluctantly pulling your hand away as you settled against the blankets and pillows. You wanted to bring your hand to your mouth and pop your thumb between your lips - tasting even the slightest bit of him. But he said no. He said not this time. And so you didn’t, getting comfortable and raising your hips as you waited to see what Jack would do, both hands resting by your sides on the blankets.

He repositioned himself, too, moving so that he was kneeling beside you before urging your legs further apart with one hand. It had only been a few minutes since you’d climbed into bed together, but time slowed as Jack twisted his wrist and slipped three fingers between your legs, two of them spreading you open and the other pushing slowly into you. 

He focused on what he was doing, the smile never leaving his lips, and even though you wanted to watch, you couldn’t. Your eyes closed and you turned your head to the side, mouth open as your hips rocked forward and into his touch. One finger inside of you turned into two, each thrust of them a little deeper than the last. 

He knew what he was doing - that much was clear - but Jack wasn’t trying to make you come. Instead, he was focused on pleasuring you, opening you up carefully. Because he’s big. Swallowing, you opened your eyes and forced out a breath, turning your head to watch him again. 

For a brief second, you considered saying fuck an even playing field and telling him you wanted his mouth. Jack would have done it without question - you could see the look in his eyes, watched the way he licked at his lips while his fingers pumped in and out of you. Even just the thought of it turned you on, and you wondered if he could tell. 

You wanted to know what it felt like to have him between your thighs, and could very clearly imagine how good the rub of his mustache against your sensitive skin would feel. Not tonight. Not this time. Not - 

“I need to fuck you.” His voice broke you out of your thoughts and when you met his gaze, Jack’s chest was heaving. “Grab the condom.” You groped for it without looking away and when you handed it over, he accepted it with one hand, the other still on you. “I can’t…” He groaned, closing his eyes and pulling his fingers out. You inhaled through your nose at the loss of contact, but Jack didn’t keep you waiting. The sound of the condom opening was followed by a quiet hiss as he rolled it on and then held it in place, squeezing himself. “I can’t hold myself up.” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you. Of course he can’t. Holding himself up would be … “Ok.” Nodding, you moved to push yourself up again. “Ok, so I’ll get on top, I -”

“No.” Jack stroked himself once, pushing his shoulders back. “I’ve got a better idea.” Gesturing with his free hand, he pointed. “Lay down on your side.” 

You thought about it for a few seconds and then did just that, rolling onto the side that would allow him to keep his injured arm free. Jack got into position behind you, his body pressed against yours. One arm slid between you and the mattress and then bent at the elbow to cross up and over your chest. He wants me close.“Wh-”

“Relax.” He kissed the back of your shoulder and then squeezed your arm. “I’ve got you.” Reaching down, he gripped your thigh and then eased your leg up and back, urging you to drape it over both of his. “This alright?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a smile on your face as your eyes closed. “It is, Jack.” He squeezed your hip and then reached between you, guiding himself into place. You held your breath in anticipation, and Jack didn’t keep you waiting. Nudging his hips forward, Jack slipped partway in - and your body did the rest. 

Rocking your hips back at the same time he pushed forward ensured that he was buried in your heat in a single, smooth stroke. You gasped at the feeling, but that reaction was nothing compared to Jack’s. He didn’t speak, instead turning his head and then ducking it so that he was pressing his lips to your throat, breath leaving him in rapid pants that warmed your skin further. 

He only gave you seconds to adjust and then he pulled back slowly, hips easing away from you before he urged them forward again, setting the pace. He gripped your hip hard, fingers digging into your skin, and for a few minutes, you let yourself get lost in him - in the way he felt and sounded and the way he was touching you, the hand on your chest sliding down so that he could cup one breast in his palm, squeezing just enough that you could feel it. 

He groaned against your neck and then bit down - not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make you whine. While you reacted to that, he moved the hand from your hip down, returning it to the space between your legs.  

That angle was better - and Jack wasted no time in zeroing in with his fingertips, circling against you with quick, precise motion. It felt good - better than good, if you were being honest - and your body fell into rhythm with Jack faster than you anticipated. But something’s… Opening your eyes, you frowned. Something’s missing.

It was just sex. You knew it was just sex, and you understood the need for the positon; Jack’s health and well-being the most important things to consider. But … “Hey, you alright?” Murmuring the words into your ear, he slowed the motion of his hips and hand, though he didn’t stop either of them entirely. “You got real… stiff.” 

“Yeah, I …” Closing your eyes, you reached up with one hand, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “I’m fine, I just …” Moving your hips backward to meet his as he thrust forward, you sighed. “I’m not used to not doing anything, and I feel like I should b-” 

“How ‘bout this?” He kissed the underside of your jaw, saying your name as he sunk back into you. “Next time, you’re in charge?” Next time? So that means… He circled his hips slowly, but didn’t pull out, leaving you completely full of him - and waiting to see what he’d say next. “How’s that sound?” 

Twisting your upper body so that you could look up at him, you took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds … acceptable.” He laughed at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It was just a natural reaction - Jack’s response to a humorous comment - but it made your chest tight, nonetheless. I want to make him look at me like that again. You reached up then, your hand sliding along the side of his neck and then further back and into his hair, the roots damp with sweat. Jack got the hint, leaning forward until he could kiss you again. 

That time, he bit down on your lower lip, taking it between his teeth and tugging before he released it, mouth sealed over yours. It was a familiar kiss - much more familiar than you’d expected with him, but it helped to put you at ease. You nodded slowly as you kissed him back, fingers tightening in his hair as Jack’s hand resumed its previous pace - and so did the pace of his hips. 

You wanted to prolong things - wanted to extend the time you’d get to spend in bed with him, but your body had other ideas. In the space of only a minute or two, you felt the heat gathering low in your belly, your breathing quickening by the second. Jack’s hips snapped against yours, and when he groaned, you felt the vibration before he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against the side of your face. 

He was sticky with sweat, but it was the sound of his voice you focused on. You weren’t even sure that he knew he was speaking, but each word went straight to your core, your fingers closing around his forearm as your mouth fell open. “Feels amazing. So fucking good. Wanted you all week.” You did? He groaned and tilted his head so that he could kiss the top of your shoulder, and you moaned at the feeling of the edge of his nail as it grazed your skin, the motion of his hand slowing. 

That got to him. 

Jack’s hips stuttered, and when your eyes opened, you realized that it wasn’t going to be you that came first. “Oh, fuck, Jack.” Lifting your hand again, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling harder than you had earlier. “You’re right there, aren’t you? So fucking close.” He nodded, each of his exhales hot against your sticky skin. “Let me feel it.” You sighed again, turning your face away from him to press it against the blankets and biting your lip as you arched your back, forcing him in deeper. “Feel you.” 

He came without warning, a low, almost strangled moan erupting from his lips as his hips slowed, the muscles in his thighs tensing along with the ones in his abdomen. You felt the heat through the thin latex, Jack filling the condom as the pressure of his fingers between your legs increased. “Feel that?” He groaned the words out, his voice uneven. “Made me come fast because I wanted you so goddamn bad.” He grunted, continuing to move. “‘S’your turn now.” 

“Yes, I -” You stopped when he latched onto your shoulder again, the pressure of his teeth firm. Your hips jerked backward and toward his, the combination of everything he was doing too much to hold off your own orgasm any longer. 

But unlike Jack, you were vocal about it, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over even as your muscles seized around him, the heat uncoiling and spreading through your body as your hold on him tightened. Oh, fuck. 

Jack’s hand slid back down your chest and settled over your heart, and when he released your skin from between his teeth, you felt him smiling against it, even as the movement of his fingers stopped and his hips slowed. “Fuck you feel good.” Yeah, so do you. Both of you were breathing hard, but it was Jack that moved first, swiping his fingers in one more slow circle against you and causing you to jerk backwards and press against his body before he pulled his hand away. What is … 

You got your answer moments later when his damp fingers trailed over your thigh and then your hip before moving between your bodies to steady himself  as he withdrew. Humming as he pulled out, you brought your hand up to rub at your face while you caught your breath, already steeling yourself for the loss of him behind you. “Jack, I -”

“Shh.” He eased free, a long exhale hitting the back of your shoulder. “Can you move?” Move? You want me to get up? “Face me, I mean?” The question shocked you, but you did what he asked, moving your leg first and then carefully turning in his arms. “You good?” 

“Good? Yeah.” Fighting the urge to lift your hand and push the hair away from his forehead, you narrowed your eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be good?” 

“Donno. That was pretty quick.” He swallowed, the tip of his tongue emerging to wet his lips. “Didn’t mean for it to be.” You didn’t? “Sorry abut that.” He used his right hand to touch your shoulder, his eyes dropping to the skin and his lips turning downward into a frown. “I know I said you had to be careful, and then I just -”

“Don’t apologize.” You did reach up then, fingers brushing over his temple and easing the hair away from his face. “I liked it.” His eyes widened and then Jack laughed, ducking his head to kiss you quickly, his hand gripping your hip. “A lot.” Instead of backing away after the kiss, Jack stayed put, his mouth hovering just above yours. You wondered what he was waiting for - if he wanted you to say something else or if he was about to speak again, but instead of giving you too much time to consider, he acted. 

It caught you by surprise when he kissed you again, his tongue licking over the curve of your lower lip. You didn’t keep him waiting, though, angling your head and opening your mouth for him. If you only had a few minutes left before he was gone, you were going to make the most of them - and if Jack wanted to kiss you like he had no intention of leaving your bed, you sure as hell weren’t going to stop him.

Eyes closed, you kissed him back, one hand absently moving over the curve of his shoulder and then down, trailing along the muscles of his bicep. You would have liked to continue exploring his body, but Jack broke the kiss with a sigh, shaking his head.

“I’ve gotta go.” You knew it was coming but it still hurt, the sting of knowing that he was just going to leave canceling out some of the elation you felt at being in his arms. “I fucking hate to just …” Jack trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I wish I could stay.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jack.” Bringing your hand to the front of his body, you spread your fingers against his chest. “I get it.” You repositioned your shoulders, nodding. “Places to go, suitcases to pack, baseball games to play.” His eyes darkened briefly, lips falling back into a frown - but Jack recovered, smiling as he nodded at you. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” He got up as soon as you gave him permission, one hand holding the condom in place while he rolled away and then got out of the bed. You watched shamelessly as he crossed the room and then left it, pushing the door all the way open and disappearing into the hallway. As soon as you heard that door close, you sighed, rolling onto your back and covering your face with both hands. 

“Holy fuck.” You needed to get up, too. You needed to get out of the bed and get dressed, so that when Jack came back into the room, he didn’t find you laying where he’d left you. There would be plenty of time to think about him and about the time you’d spent with him after he was gone. I wonder if he’ll think about me, too. 

That question motivated you enough to get you on your feet. 

After you’d used the towel from your shower earlier to clean yourself up, you pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, glancing at yourself in the mirror after you were dressed. He’s going to need to come back in here, and he’s naked, so… 

You padded down the hallway and knocked softly on the door, letting him know that you’d be downstairs. But you didn’t wait for a reply, heading briefly into your second bathroom and then into the kitchen, pulling two bottles of water from the fridge. You downed most of one before he appeared in the doorway of your kitchen, once again dressed, though his hair was still somewhat unruly. I like it like that. 

“That for me?” He pointed at the second bottle and you nodded, sliding it across the counter. He drank from it, keeping his eyes on you. It was awkward, but only slightly, and when he finished with his water, Jack swiped a hand across his mouth and grinned at you. “Thank you, darlin’.” 

“Of course.” You sipped, shrugging. “A bottle of water is the least I can do.” 

“No, not for that.” He scratched at his cheek, keeping his eyes on you. “For today.” He’s thanking me for sex? Your expression must have fallen enough that he saw it, because Jack immediately circled the counter to where you were standing, reaching out to wind an arm around you. “No, not like that. I’m not thankin’ you for … shit. I sound like such an asshole, don’t I?” He paused, glancing up. “It was real nice to not feel like this was just a hookup because of who I am.” Oh. Oh, that’s different. 

“You’re welcome.” You reached for his hand, linking your fingers together and squeezing. “I had fun today, too.” His smile widened at your words and to your surprise, Jack pulled you into a tight hug, letting go of your hand to hold you close. You hugged him back, turning your head and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” 

The words slipped out before you could stop them, but Jack agreed, taking a step back and saying your name quietly and looking directly into your eyes as he continued. “I’d like that.” There was nothing left to prolong his leaving, and when Jack turned away and toward the hallway, you followed, though not closely. “I’ll be back up here later this week, if everything goes well.” He put on one shoe and looked up at you, nodding. “Can I call you?” 

“Sure.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you bit the inside of your lip. “That would be great.” You wanted to say more, but chose not to. And when Jack stood up, patting his back pockets to make sure he had everything, you leaned against the wall, watching. I have to lock the door, it’s not like I’m hovering. “Drive safe, Jack. You’re gonna be on the road a lot this week.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He reached for the doorknob then, fingers closing around it. But before he pulled it open, Jack spun back to face you and crossed the small space, crowding you against the wall. “I know I have to go, but …” He trailed off as you tried to process what was happening, but before you could get your bearings, he was kissing you, the wall at your back and his body pressed to your front. 

Is this fucking happening? He pushed his tongue between your lips, letting out a quick breath through his nose, and then Jack’s hand slid beneath your shirt and up. His fingers splayed wide against your side, though they curled inward when you nipped at his lower lip, tugging on it. It is. And he started it and… 

You broke apart with a quiet gasp, and after Jack pressed another kiss to your mouth, he said your name, tone serious. “No maybe about it. I want to do this again.” 

Straightening up, Jack winked at you and then moved to open the door, lips curving up into the smile that you were all too familiar with. Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah, me too. 

“Yes.” It was all you could manage - one word in a breathless exhale - but it seemed to be all he needed, because you got another grin before he stepped outside in the the still-warm darkness of the mid August summer, closing the door behind him. 

---

[miekasa]

NICE.

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres: rich kid au, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, light-ish angst, smut/nsfw content (everybody gets a piece)!

+ warnings: mentions of depression/anxiety, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol, some of the smut happens under the influence so be cautious if that’s something you don’t like, i swear this is all more idiots in love than angst tho i just wanna disclose everything fairly

+ notes: this is alternatively titled super rich kids and you can probably figure out why. some of this is based off of real life, some of it is straight out of gossip girl and i challenge you to separate the facts from the fiction :’) anyways, i hope we all remember the lyrics to in my feelings

+ more notes: one quick reference for ages in this fic—all the vets are older but not by that much, think various stages of grad school. armin, connie, sasha, annie, and bertholdt are all college sophomores. eren, the reader, and pretty much everybody else are college seniors, so they’re about a year or two older. also here is a playlist for your reading pleasures, shoutout to ryn for letting me mooch of their spotify account :’)

+ word count: 19k. i’m sorry.

+ summary: fuck you, fuck you, you’re cool, fuck you.; or the story of notorious rich kid and self-proclaimed bad boy eren yeager, and his not so goody two-shoes best friend.

“So you’re saying that you don’t love me? That you’re not riding? That you’ll actually leave from beside me?”

“I’m saying that it’s ass o’clock in the morning and I’m not driving in the rain to Brooklyn to pick your sorry ass up.”

“But… but I want you, and I need you, and I’m down for you.”

You check the time on your phone screen and groan. 3:57am. Far too early to be dealing with the likes of Eren Jaeger. “Just get an Uber or something. I don’t know what you and your idiot friends were up to this time, but I don’t want any part of it.”

“First, they’re our idiot friends. Second, I don’t think they let you take Ubers from jail, and even if they did, it’s, like, four in the morning, so I don’t think there are any Ubers driving around, so could you pretty please come pick me up? I promise I’ll make it up to—”

“From where?” you cut him off, slowly sitting upright in your bed. You hold your phone closer to your ear, ready to listen again; because, certainly, you must have misheard him the first time. You wait, but the line is silent, save for Eren’s awkward chuckling. “Eren Asher Jaeger, tell me that that was another stupid lyric from that stupid song, and that you are not in prison right now.”

Eren makes a sad attempt at laughing. “Technically, it’s a holding cell, not really prison… and I would leave, but they suspended my license for a month, and Min can’t drive yet, so we kind of need you,” he explains, “Uh, no pun intended.”

“Min?” you pull your eyebrows together at the mention of the younger’s name, “Is Armin with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

With a frown and a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed, wedging your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab the nearest pair of sweatpants.

“Why did you get him caught up in whatever stupid shit you were doing tonight?” you complain, scanning your dark bedroom for a shirt to wear, “Erwin’s going to castrate you when he finds out.”

You curse as you stub your toe against the edge of your bed on your way out of the room. Given the time, weather, and the fact that you have several exams to start studying for, hanging up and leaving Eren in the middle of god knows where Brooklyn doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, but you couldn’t go back to sleep knowing that Armin would have to suffer with him.

“Relax,” Eren breathes in a tone all too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “He didn’t get charged with anything, and nothing’s going on his record.”

“You don’t know that,” you retort, sliding your raincoat over your free arm, as you paddle down the stairs of your apartment, “The NYPD suck.”

“True,” he hums, “But I paid off the cop, so it’ll be fine.”

You pause in your steps, but really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Of course you did,” you mumble, moving again and grabbing your car keys off of the kitchen island.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questions. His tone is actually genuine and it tempts you to roll your eyes.

“What it always means, Eren,” you sigh, stepping into the elevator, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off my line.”

He doesn’t have time to throw in another pitiful “I love you” before the line goes dead and he’s met with static silence. He hangs up the station telephone with a silent chuckle, turning around to face Armin and Officer Hannes.

“Someone’s coming to pick us up,” he says, trying to focus on Armin’s sigh of relief and not the warmth creeping up his neck and into his cheeks, “I’ll, uh, call a tow for the car in the morning.”

The cop, too tired to care, only shrugs, and pays them no further attention. He hands Eren a plastic bag with his car keys and newly suspended license, escorts him back into the cell, and returns to his desk. Eren gives Hannes the finger while his back is turned.

Beside him, Armin is still quivering; bouncing his leg up and down, fiddling with his fingers, gnawing on his bottom lip. Eren frowns, a heavy wave of guilt washing over him as he takes in the younger’s anxiety ridden state. It wasn’t fair that Armin could have potentially suffered legal consequences because of his stupidity.

Eren’s lucky that Hannes was sleazy enough to accept his bribe and let him off with minimal punishment. With that they were doing, things could have ended up far worse for the both of them tonight.

“I’m sorry, man,” he apologizes, hands stuffed in his front pockets, “About tonight, I mean. We—I shouldn’t have done that, not with you there.”

Armin looks up at him with sparkling, doe eyes and Eren wants to punch himself in the gut for making him go through all of this, even if it didn’t amount to an actual arrest. “You couldn’t have known this was going to happen.”

“I could have prevented it,” he says. Because it’s what you would have said, too.

“It’s not your fault, I wanted to come, remember?” Armin tells him, redirecting his gaze to the grey floor of the precinct cell. He takes a deep breath, almost calming down completely when a sudden thought reignites his nervous ticks, “You… they’re not gonna tell my parents, right?”

“No, no—of course not.”

Armin was legally an adult; he, nor Eren, nor the police had to tell his parents anything. Sure, Hannes could rat them out, but honestly that sounded like way more work than he was cut out for; not to mention he’d be bound to reveal that he let them off easy for a couple thousand bucks.

Armin nods, “And… that wasn’t Erwin on the phone, right?”

“Are you kidding me? He’d murder me on the spot,” Eren says. He pauses before tacking on, “I, uh… I called (_____).”

“Oh,” the younger gapes, “She’ll kill you, too.”

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, scratching the back of his neck in nervous anticipation, “Trust me, I know.”

“You have your access card on you, right, Armin?” you ask. He nods sheepishly, hand on the car door handle.

“Thanks again for coming to get us,” he says meekly, “I’m sorry about waking you up and everything.”

You offer him a warm smile through the rear view mirror, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just glad you’re safe. Text me when you get up tomorrow, okay? We can get brunch, my treat.”

His face lights up at the prospect of free food, and he nods once more, enthusiastically, but his expression falls again when he speaks, “Okay, and I’ll, um, pay you back for the tickets and stuff as soon as I can—”

“It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” you repeat.

“It was almost three thou—”

“You forget who you’re friends with,” you cut him off with a smile, “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

Armin’s eyes dart to Eren quickly, before clearing his throat, a light pink tint to his cheeks. You know that the prospect of money can be a sensitive subject for Armin, one easily triggered by his very environment, but this wasn’t negotiable on your end. You know that Armin doesn’t like the feeling of owing anyone anything, but he knows he won’t get you to budge; so, he quietly nods, appreciative of your generosity, before bidding you and Eren a final goodnight and sprinting towards the dorm. Once you see that he’s safely inside, you wave one last time, and wait for the door to shut behind him.

Slowly, Eren turns to the driver’s seat to look at you. You were eerily calm when you came to pick him and Armin up from the station. You didn’t yell, cuss, or punch him in the face like he expected. You politely talked to the officer, thanked him for his service, paid their fees, and up until now, you’ve shown no signs of being angry with him at all.

The two of you drive back to your shared apartment in complete silence, Eren too confused, and borderline scared, of initiating a conversation. He wonders if you’re too tired, or if you really don’t give a damn anymore, but when you pull into the underground lot of your building and put the car in park, he finds out the silence was simply the calm before the storm.

You take your hand off of the gear shift and turn towards him. It’s a quiet stare down for nearly a full minute before you break the mime act with a slap to his thigh.

“Drag racing? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of all the stupid shit you’ve done—and you’ve done a lot of stupid shit—this has got to take the cake. Just what the actual fuck were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” he inhales sharply, rubbing over where you’d hit him, “We were just having fun! Then these other guys showed up and started talking shit so—”

“Having fun?” you echo, “You couldn’t think of anything fun to do that’s not illegal in every borough of New York City?”

Eren feels his cheek flush, but he only huffs with the illusion of disinterest, “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so bad. I’m a good driver, it was those other squids that got us into shit, I’m telling you. They showed up looking for a fight, then ran like a bunch of pussies when the cops came.”

You exhale slowly, shaking your head in disbelief. You seem to have no other words to say to him, choosing to step out of the car and slam the door behind you. Eren quickly follows, slamming his door equally as hard, and hot on your trail as you march towards the elevator.

“(_____), come on, enough with the silent treatment,” he whines when you stick yourself in a corner of the elevator after pushing the button to the penthouse, “I told you I didn’t start shit, Armin and I got ratted on.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not they started it, Eren. You’re still the problem here.”

“Me? How am I the problem?” he pulls back, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion, “I just told you I didn’t do shit.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and shifting your left leg, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Doing what with me?” he presses, tone growing icy.

“This, Eren!” you reiterate, “I’m too tired to hear your bullshit right now.”

The elevator dings and opens into your apartment. You push past him, continuing your deliberate strides through the living area, and to the stairs, but Eren catches you with a hand on your wrist before you can go any further.

“Will you fucking stop that,” he growls, “If you’ve got something to say, then stop running away from me, and just say it.”

“Funny,” you sneer, pulling your wrist away from him and settling both your feet on the bottom step, “You’re one to talk about running away from things.”

He takes a step back, standing just a notch below you, perfectly frozen in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your little drag racing episode was not only dangerous and immature, it was you running away from your problems like a spoiled child, yet again.”

Eren’s features narrow at your accusations; eyes fading into hooded slits, lips curving downwards, and voice bobbing low, “I’m not running away from anything.”

“Oh, please, Eren,” you roll your eyes, arms retreating to their crossed position in front of your chest, “Cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But he bets that even in the dim lighting of the apartment, you can see the tips of his ears growing red, just like they always do when he’s lying.

“Oh, really?” you ask, eyes widening in mock surprise, “You don’t think I don’t know this whole thing has something to do with the fact that your mom came home on Friday?”

Another pause. “Who told you that?” He asks, but it comes out more like a statement.

“Nobody had to,” you snap, “Jean said he caught you with a sack of coke over the weekend, and I knew something was up.”

“It wasn’t mine, I was—”

“I said cut the shit, Eren. If I went up into your room right now I bet your ass I’d find more than enough of it in a shoebox somewhere.”

He retreats, almost bashful, but unapologetic all the same. “Fine, whatever, I did a few lines. Big deal.”

“The big deal is that you think this is fucking normal, and now you’ve upgraded from coke to getting yourself arrested! It’d be one thing if you were acting like a misfit on your own, but to drag Armin into it because you—”

“Drag him into it?” he echoes with the snare of sarcasm dripping from each syllable, “You talk about Armin like he’s six. I don’t know why you think he’s some helpless little baby, but you have no goddamn responsibility over him. He’s not your fucking charity case.”

“I never fucking said he’s my charity case—don’t you ever fucking say that,” you say, “Having some basic respect and concern for my friends isn’t charity.”

“Wake the fuck up! You baby Armin when he’s a grown ass man. I didn’t force him into the fucking car to get sympathy points from you.”

“Grown? Armin is barely nineteen, disowned by his parents, is on a full fucking ride to an insanely expensive university, and you got him arrested tonight! Do you know what could happen if NYU found out? They could fucking kick him out, take his scholarship away—and then what, huh? Or were you just gonna buy off the headmaster, too?”

“You’re acting like I fucking planned for it!”

He’s screaming now, voice bellowing throughout the apartment, face red—and he doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t mean it at all; but it’s late, and he’s tired, and those shouldn’t be excuses, but he’s too prideful to back down.

“Of course you didn’t! You didn’t plan for anything, you were just being a reckless, irresponsible asshole like always,” you tell him, too blind-sighted by anger and the need to chide him that you miss the teary undertones in his words.

“And what’s it matter to you?”

“It fucking matters to me when you call at some godforsaken hour asking me to pick you up from prison!”

He takes a step forward, right leg elevated by the same step that both your feet rest on. “Well, what else am I supposed to fucking do!” He shouts even though he’s mere inches from your face, “Tell me just what the fuck I’m supposed to do instead!”

“You’re supposed to act like an adult and fucking talk to someone!”

“Who the hell am I supposed to talk to, huh?” he presses, taking a step forward and forcing you to retreat backwards, and up a step, “My mother who’s never home or her bastard boyfriend?”—another step forward for him, another step backwards for you—“The step-brother I can’t get in contact with?”—one step forward; one step backwards—“Or maybe the dad I never had, right?”

“Me, Eren!” you yell back with equal vigor, throwing your hands up at your sides, and planting your feet firmly. “Armin, Mikasa, Jean—anyone! You have people who fucking care about you! Stop treating us like correction officers, we’re your fucking friends!”

There’s silence for a while, just you and Eren staring at each other, heavy breathing, waiting for the other to make the next move. He opens his mouth, but when he tries to speak, his resolve washes away, his throat tightens and the words get sucked back in.

It would be easy to keep yelling, screaming, blaming you for blowing up on him. He used to think the scolding he got from you after pulling some stupid stunt was the worst part; but now, he thinks it might be his favorite part. He hates to hear you scream, and it hurts to see you cry, but if you’re yelling, you’re angry that he hurt himself; you care that he’s okay.

“I—” he stutters, words quiet and broken, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get like this tonight, it was an accident I—”

“You never mean for any of it to happen, yet it always does,” you interrupt, voice soft yet strained, “I know you have your own shit to deal with, but so does everybody else.”

“(_____), please, you’re right, okay? I should have said something before,” he admits, mouth small as he voices his confessions, “I should have talked to you or one of the boys, but I—I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

He’s groveling now. Mouth in pout, eyes wide, voice small, and honestly, he thinks he might cry. At this point he doesn’t care if he does.

“I want you to mean it,” you finally say, and when he looks up, he hates the look he sees in your eyes. It’s something between sad and hurt and empty and it’s awful. Someone like you shouldn’t feel that way. He shouldn’t make you feel that way.

“I—”

“When you’re ready to tell me exactly what’s going on with you—what’s happening that made you think going to jail would be better than facing your issues—I’ll be here to talk,” you continue, eyes watering, “But until then, goodnight, Eren.”

Eren winces when you turn around and ascend up the remaining stairs. He flirts with the idea of following you, going to your room to finish talking, but you’re probably angry enough to have it locked. His room is up there, too, but he opts for part of the sectional, laying down with the palms of his hands kneading against his closed eyelids.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been there for him. Your friendship, at times, was like a game of tag—Eren always on the run with you loyally chasing after him; he’d always run amuck, and you’d always be there to catch him in the act. Now, it’s five in the morning, there’s no more yelling, no more chasing, no more racing, but he’s still running.

The following morning, you take Armin out to brunch, as promised. Jean tags along too, something about hanging out with the two of you being infinitely more entertaining than his genetics lecture. It doesn’t seem like Jean knows anything about Armin and Eren’s late night antics, so you don’t bring it up yourself.

Oblivious, Jean chats your ears off as if nothing is awry. Whether he knows it or not, he does a great job of distracting Armin from his own thoughts. They both eat to their heart’s content when you remind them you’ll foot the bill; and you don’t bat an eye when Jean convinces Armin to order his third round of pancakes. He deserves it.

Afterwards, Jean convinces the three of you to go window shopping with him in SoHo, claiming that he needed inspiration for his latest fashion assignment (you don’t question why he’s taking a fashion class as a biology major, but you suspect it has something to do with Mikasa). Window shopping soon turns into actual shopping, so almost completely unprompted, and with little effort on his part, Armin gets a few pieces of clothing on your behalf, while you try to ignore Eren’s words itching at the back of your mind.

Armin’s not a baby, but he certainly is a kid with a rough past and rough relationship with his parents at a time in his life where he arguably needs them the most. A little extra support from his friends wouldn’t harm him.

It’s nearing six when the three of you are wedged in a small booth inside a café, indulging in overpriced hot chocolate. Three sips into his second cup, Jean excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you sitting across from Armin.

“You know, you don’t have to keep buying me stuff to make up for Eren,” Armin says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m not trying to make up for him,” you sputter, careful not to spill your drink over your lap, “You had a rough night. Just accept my gifts, don’t be a brat.”

“I do accept them. Erwin’s been eyeing that Off White sweater for, like, three weeks now. He’s gonna have a hissy fit when he sees me wearing it.” You chuckle, and he continues, “But you know, as much I love spending time with you, you can’t use me to avoid Eren forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you frown.

“You said you were going to take us to brunch, and then spent the whole day with us.”

“Funny, I recall you saying something about how much you love my company about thirty seconds ago.”

“He’s called you at least ten times today.”

“I was spending the day with my favorite NYU student… and Jean,” you bat your lashes, “I see you maybe once a week. I live with Eren, I have to see him every day.”

Armin calls your name with a pout, “He’s sorry, you know.”

“Not sorry enough,” you mumble. Armin opens his mouth to say something again, but then Jean’s sliding back into the booth, chatting about how he’s finally come up with the perfect anniversary date for Mikasa.

Armin doesn’t notice your sigh of relief, but he does take note of the way you wipe away your notifications when a text rings through. If Eren could spend his days running away from his problems, then you could, too.

Despite being arguably the greediest of you all, Jean loves company, so he doesn’t hesitate to say yes when you ask to crash at his place after your shopping escapades. You expect to be welcomed with sounds of screaming, laughter, and loud music, but to your surprise his apartment is completely silent upon your entering.

“Bertholdt has class and Marco has a meeting,” he prompts, as if he could read your thoughts. He shimmies his coat off his shoulders and tosses it over the bar in the foyer.

Their apartment has the same amount of rooms as yours and Eren’s, but is all stretched along a single floor. It’s more of a maze, really, with intricate turns, and hallways, that all more or less open up into the expanse of the foyer and bar. Their living room is your favorite part. A dark, brown leather sectional wraps around the back three walls and an oversized flatscreen encased in an ebony frame takes center stage. A collection of vinyl records litters the walls above the couch; each of the boys contributing their favorite discs as décor.

“If he has class, shouldn’t you have class?” you question, fingers dragging over the ridges of the closest record.

“I’ve had class all day, but that doesn’t mean I go,” Jean shrugs, walking up behind you and taking your jacket off your shoulders and your bag from your hand, “Besides, Bertholdt will probably cut half-way to go see Reiner, if he can even stay awake that long. Going with him is just as productive as staying home.”

“You’re all a mess,” you scoff, turning around as a cheesy grin grows on Jean’s lips. His smile is infectious, and soon you catch yourself grinning just because.

“You want something to drink?” he offers, throwing your coat over his elbow and tilting his head in the direction of the bar.

“You’re bad at mixing drinks,” you remind him, but follow him anyway.  

Jean laughs, not bothering to deny the jab. He doesn’t try his hand at anything mixed or complicated this time; simply offering you a glass of your favorite red, and pouring himself a smaller amount.

He puts the album you were gawking at earlier on the record player, the two of you sinking into the couch as lovely melodies radiate throughout the apartment.

He spends the first hour bitching about how Marco’s supposed to become a CEO in less than a year, yet has the attention span of a squirrel; but the playful lilt in the brunette’s voice, and the begrudging smile on his face lets you know that it’s all love. He gushes about Mikasa for a good half hour, cramming you with stories about his girlfriend’s talent for sewing and fashion. You also learn that Bertholdt’s been busier than usual these days, and Jean suspects it has something to do with a secret lover.

You pinch your eyebrows at his hunch. Bertholdt’s never been one for dating. He’s had many friends with benefits in the past, but they weren’t relationships, nor were they secrets. In fact, you don’t think that he could keep a secret to save his life.

“Why would he be hiding it if he were seeing someone?” you question, swirling your newly refilled glass.

“Dunno,” Jean shrugs, “But it’s sus, I’m telling you. He’s been oddly busy for someone with a 2.3 GPA. Either way, I’ll pry it out of him eventually.”

“You’re so fucking nosey,” you chuckle, watching the mischievous, satisfied grin settle onto his features.

“I kinda think it’s Armin,” Jean says after a while, downing the remaining wine in his cup, while you choke on your own drink.

“Why on Earth do you think if Bertholdt had a secret lover that it’d be Armin?”

“Because he was in love with him for, like, two years in high school,” Jean says, as if the information should be painfully obvious.

“Yeah, and Bert also hooked up with a million different people in high school.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t still in love with Armin.”

“I don’t think Armin’s kissed another human, let alone is in a secret relationship with one.”

“Hm, true. I forget he’s still a virgin.”

“Hey—there’s nothing wrong with Armin being a virgin, leave him be.”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jean whines, “But it’s so—he doesn’t have to be. Armin’s cute! And very attractive—dare I even say sexy. He could go outside and get laid right now if he just tried.”

“Stay humble, Jean boy. If I remember correctly, you only started breaking hearts a year ago,” you tut. Jean’s nose goes pink as he shoves you away when you continue, “But, if you’re so concerned with Armin’s virginity, why don’t you go help him out with it.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, I think that’s more your gig,” he shoots back, a smug smile tugging on his lips. “Not to mention, I’m not trying to get beat up by Annie. Though, I wonder how much longer it’ll take before she finally snaps. Hey, maybe the both of you can tag team him, I’m sure Annie wouldn’t mind, and it might even make Armin less nervous to have you—”

It’s your turn to shove him now, throwing in an extra punch when his head bobs back with laughter. You’re very certain Annie would mind; you would mind if someone inserted themself in your kind of, sort of, not really relationship, and ruined your four years of pining.

“Speaking of lovers,” Jean prompts, once his laughter dies down, bending his knee and turning closer to you. “Why are you and lover boy fighting? Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hum, sipping your drink in between words. Jean’s eyes pinch together. “Marco and I would never fight.”

“My god, will you let your Marco fantasies go already? You’ve already caused him one sexuality crisis,” Jean groans, “You know I mean Eren.”

You sigh, lowering your glass and reaching forward to pinch his cheek. “It’s nothing you have to worry your pretty little head over.”

“Please,” he scoffs, flicking your offending hand back, “He’s been texting us nonstop since this morning at, like, nine. I didn’t even know he was capable of waking up before noon.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but Jean continues, “Why he would ask us for advice on you is beyond me. He knows you better than all of us combined.”

“And why you’re saying all of this is beyond me.”

“Oh, come on, what’d he do,” Jean pushes, borderline whines, as he puts his empty glass down in a cup holder embedded in the couch. He’s always been the most prone to gossip, but you forget that wine makes him even more of a nosey prick. “Must have been pretty bad. Or stupid.”

“Try both,” you mumble, “Well—I don’t know, it wasn’t… the worst thing anyone could do, but it was really fucking reckless—and why he did it, I couldn’t even tell you. I don’t know what goes through his mind half the time, but I swear he must have been on crack last night.”

“He probably was. On crack, I mean. I told you, I took an ounce from him over the weekend, but that was after Eren and Ymir did, like, five lines.”

“Do they really do that regularly?” you nearly cry, a hand massaging your temple, “Fucking Christ, if he really was high while driving, I’ll kill him myself.”

“Well, I don’t know if regular is the right word,” Jean ponders, “Maybe for Ymir, but god knows what she’s on half the time, anyways. Besides, coke isn’t the worst thing they could do.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, pausing when you shoot him a disapproving look, “Oh, come on! You’re no angel, either—if memory serves, you were high as shit at Moblit’s birthday party, and kept singing the star spangled banner all night.”

“Yeah, on weed! One time! It was on a rooftop and the stars were out and it has the same rhythm as the happy birthday song, cut me some slack!”

He finds laughing at your expense to be much more fun, however, as he continues to chuckle while you throw a fit. He’s also not one to let a topic of gossip go undiscussed, and has no problem bringing the conversation back to Eren.

“It’s because you two don’t talk, you know,” Jean tuts, “That’s why you fight like this.”

For the second time, the younger’s words have your eyebrows growing close together. “I mean, I guess—but it’s more than that. Eren and I live together, we obviously talk, but—”

“I know, I know, but just hear me out, okay? You and Eren talk about a lot of things, yeah, but you also… don’t. And sometimes you don’t have to, because you guys, like… get each other.”

“Wow. What a way with words you have, Jean Kirstein. You should write a self-help book.”

“What I mean,” he sneers, unhappy with the sarcasm being thrown his way, “Is that you guys understand each other in weird ways. It’s actually kind of cute—sometimes a little freaky, in all honesty. It’s why you don’t always have to talk about serious things. But you take it for granted and let shit bottle up, and then get in denial about it until you blow up in each other’s faces.”

“Please, you barely passed one philosophy class and now you think you’re Plato.”

“You’re doing the in denial thing right now!” he taunts, “Come one, when you two fight like this, what’s it usually about?”

You sigh, sinking back into the plush leather of the couch, and wrapping your hands around a fluffy throw pillow. Thinking about arguing with Eren isn’t particularly something you like to do, and truthfully, you don’t really get pissed at each other that often. Not to the point of ignoring each other, at least.

“I don’t know,” you drawl, “Drugs, me forgetting things, him doing stupid shit, him thinking Mikasa could do better than you, school, drinking, the fact that he leaves his big ass shoes at the top of the stairs for me to trip over and fall to my death every morning, when—”

“His parents?” Jean cuts you off.

“I—we don’t really… it’s not so much fighting over his parents, it’s all the stuff he does to deal with his parents. He never gives his mom’s boyfriends a chance, and he never really talks about why, either. I know he’s secretly just angry and insecure about his dad, but… I don’t know. That doesn’t really make it better.”

“True,” he nods, “See—he doesn’t talk about it.”

“I know, and I told him that last night, too, but… it’s a sensitive subject for him—his dad, I mean,” you sigh, “And you’re right, he shouldn’t bottle his feelings up, but, on the other hand he’s watched his mom get married five times. I don’t always blame him for not wanting to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but just because it’s hard to talk about doesn’t mean he shouldn’t,” Jean lolls, “Wouldn’t you have rather he said something than have done whatever stupid shit he did to make you want to sleep here tonight?”

“Okay, Socrates, I get it,” you lighten up, “I’ll talk to him—or get him to talk to me. Are you happy?”

“Quite,” he says, annoyingly chipper as he rises from the couch. “I hate seeing my favorite power couple fighting.”

Jean knows his words would elicit a slap to his arm, so he takes off just before you can reach him, prompting you to chase him out of the living room and down the hall. The brunette cackles ridiculously loudly as you scream his name with profanities sprinkled in-between. You catch a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pull him back, finally flicking him on the forehead.

He accepts his punishment with pride, offering you a signature smile in return while you both catch your breaths. It’s a sweet moment, the two of you looking at each other with stupid smiles on your face, exhalations tickling your cheeks.

Jean’s eyes break the gaze first, as he looks down the remainder of your face, and back up to your eyes again. His words could get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t let them—he shakes his head, and swiftly turns around, beckoning for you to follow him.

“Come on, we can steal Marco’s clothes for your pajamas this time.”

Jean spends all of three minutes pulling apart Marco’s dresser before swiping a t-shirt and Christmas themed pajama bottoms from his room. He tosses them in your direction before leading you back down the hall and to the left, opening the door to the guest bedroom for you, before leaving you to change.

They have more than one guest bedroom, but this one is unofficially yours. Little pieces of you can be found littered throughout the room, from spare jewelry to mismatched makeup. You spot a single, gold, teardrop shaped earring on the vanity and sigh as you run your fingers over it.

You swear you’d lost it a few months ago. Trust Jean to put it away for safekeeping without telling you he’d found it. The boy in question returns moments later, knocking while walking through the door with your purse in hand.

“How’d you know I was about to ask you to get that?” you question, a smile on your face as you retrieve the small bag from his hands.

Jean offers you a cocky grin, “Cause I’m the best.”

“Don’t go getting a big head, now,” you tease, “Or, well, an even bigger head.”

Jean ignores your insult, as you take a seat at the edge of the bed, fishing through your bag for your phone to plug it in for the night. He’s about to turn around and bid you goodnight, when the flash of something orange peeping out of your purse prompts his next thought.

“Hey, you picked up your refill, right?” he asks innocently, “It should have been ready last Thursday.”

You sigh, head falling slightly when you close your bag and place it on the vanity. “Uh… no.”

Jean’s mouth is already open, ready with equally friendly and scolding words, but you cut him off before he can talk. “I was going to on Thursday, but I had class late, and then I forgot on Friday and I haven’t really had time since then. But I have a few left-overs from the last two months, so I’ve been taking those!”

Jean’s mouth closes, but his eyes narrow as he begins to walk towards you. You know he’s putting two and two together, so you speak ahead of him again.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have any left over, but it’s only five, I promise! I’ve been really good, lately.”

Jean’s eyes remain in concentrated slits, but his resolve is waning when he reads over your expression. His facade fades as he takes the final steps towards you to stand directly in front of your body.

“Okay,” he says, voice soft through his smile, “I’ll go with you to pick them up tomorrow before I drop you home, yeah?”

It elates him more than it should to see the smile you flash his way. Unfortunately, it’s short-lived, as his next question leaves your face twisted with guilt.

“Have you… told Eren yet?”

You consider lying and saying yes, but something tells you Jean won’t buy it. Your silence seems to speak loud enough, as his shoulders drop with a quiet sigh.

“I want to, I just… well I’m mad at him right now, and even when I’m not… I don’t know why it’s so hard,” you confess.

“He’d wanna know, you know,” Jean says, and it’s not the first time he’s said it to you, either. “You know he wouldn’t judge you or anything.”

“I know that. But, truthfully, if I had things my way, not even you would know, Jean.”

It was an accident that Jean found out that you’d been taking anxiety medication.

It was at somebody’s house party where the majority of your friends and their guests had gotten piss drunk. Reiner’s date had suggested mixing their alcohol with molly she’d supposedly had in her bag. In her drunken stupor, she’d mistaken your purse for her own, but luckily, a not so drunk Jean had noticed the label didn’t match her name, and snagged the bottle before the worst could happen.

They ended up not finding her molly, anyway, but it’s a moot point. Jean had cornered you about the bottle later in the week with honest intentions; he’d been concerned that might be another kind of drug disguised by a prescription veil. However, you’d assured him that it was indeed your prescribed Lexapro, and not a shady mixture of black market substances.

And, he’d been more than understanding in the aftermath. Quite frankly, he had somewhat made it his business to ensure that you got and took your medication on time and felt comfortable getting to and from your therapy appointments.

It’s endearing in a way that made you pause and count your blessings sometimes. Jean had been nothing but unequivocally supportive in his understanding about anxiety and had gone the extra mile to comfort you where need be. It made you wonder why you hesitated to tell Eren on several occasions.

It was probably the very nature of anxiety itself that had you doubting your trust in Eren. You wanted to tell him—of course you did—but, you couldn’t. You know that Eren would do everything in his power to make it better, even if that was just being. You know that he’d want to know and he’d kill to understand. But you couldn’t possibly burden him with your problems, not when he has a million of his own.

The one person in the world you wanted to tell, you were terrified of talking to. And you know it’s irrational to be afraid of him, but you can’t seem to control those thoughts. It’s a tiring, consuming, endless cycle.

Jean watches the way your gaze lowers to the floor. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, and, god, he swears if he could take that train of thought away from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

With a heavy heart and tired eyes, he takes a final step forward and wraps his arms around your body. He counts three, four seconds before you hug him back. He raises a hand to the back to your head, cradling your face into his shoulder and squeezing you tightly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know that,” he speaks, just a notch above a whisper, “I know you’ll tell him when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. You hug him back a little tighter and close your eyes, “Thank you, Jean.”

And Jean holds on, and hopes you know that he wouldn’t let you go, “You’re welcome, (_____).”

You come home to find your entire apartment littered with flowers; in the hallway, on the sectional, atop the counter, up the stairs.

There are several boxes of your favorite macarons stacked in a small pyramid on the kitchen island, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you checked the labels to find that they were shipped straight from the south of France this morning. There’s too many bottles of Ace on the coffee table, sparkling next to a basket of what looks like your regular skincare products. A pretty, gold bow rests atop an even prettier pair of red-bottomed heels, and if you’re not mistaken, that’s a limited edition, vintage YSL clutch on the sectional, resting against your favorite throw pillow.

You sigh, making your way to the couch to pick up the orange envelope sticking out of the handbag. Just as you’re about to open it, you hear footsteps, and a voice that follows.

“You’re back,” Eren chirps from mid-way on the staircase, “I, uh, there’s catering coming from Butter coming soon. I know it’s your favorite,” he continues as he descends the stairs.

He has his hand on the back of his neck and there’s a faint, pink tint to his cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards you. You cross your arms, looking him up and down when he stands in front of you.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a tweed sweater with patches at the elbow. His hair is split down the middle, longer than usual, so the ends of sweep over his eyelashes; and there are telltale signs that he’d been toying with it.

“Eren, what is all of this?” you finally ask, shifting your weight to your right leg.

“Part one of my apology and explanation,” he replies, a hopeful timbre to his voice. You roll your eyes, but he continues anyway, “Actually, part two is in that envelope.”

Skeptical, you unfold your arms and open the envelope. You don’t know what you were expecting—a card, maybe tickets to a musical or something; but what you definitely weren’t expecting were two tickets to Paris.

“France?” you look up, tickets in hand, “You don’t get it do you? You can’t just buy all of this shit, jet us off to Europe and expect everything to be okay.”

“No, no it’s not like that—I swear!” he interjects, hands moving sporadically, “It’s just, well… Can we sit? Then I can explain everything.”

Eren looks at you with those big green eyes and that sad pout to his lips, and you find yourself sighing and taking a seat on the couch against your better judgement. There’s a small smile to his lips when you do—a little victory—and he sits next to you, your knees resting against each other as you face him.

He’s shaking, and your resolve to punish him with whatever solid exterior and half-assed silent treatment dissolves as you take his left hand in your right, and recall your conversation with Jean. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s me, Eren. You can talk to me.”

When he feels your smaller hand envelop his, the shaking stops, and for a moment, it feels like he can do this, like everything is okay. He smiles, and takes a deep breath.

“The other night, you were right, about my mom and her boyfriend coming home,” he starts, words slow and heavy, “I didn’t even know she was coming—I knew she was visiting this month, but she didn’t tell me when, and I thought it was going to be just her, you know? But then she showed up with him, and, well, I don’t know. I was upset. She’s been home for a week now, and we haven’t even gone to dinner or anything.”

He pauses, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance, “We were supposed to get lunch on Thursday, but she cancelled. Had some meeting or something, I don’t know, I don’t care. Friday comes and she says she wants to have dinner, right?”

You nod, he continues. “I thought it was just going to be us, but he was there. That’s when she told me that… that they’re…” he squeezes his eyes shut, “They’re engaged.”

Your mouth falls into a small o-shape. Everything made perfect sense now.

It’s not that Eren didn’t love his mother, quite the opposite actually. He’s a mama’s boy through and through; she’s his role model, his everything, he adores her. Her career as a designer often takes her on long business trips, most frequently as prolonged stays in Paris, so much so that she relocated her primary office there shortly after Eren graduated high school.

Now, she only visits home for one or two weeks at a time, sometimes only for the weekend. Upon her decision to permanently relocate, she planned to leave Eren under the unofficial supervision of Mikasa. Instead, Eren bought Mikasa her own three-bedroom apartment in Midtown (according to his logic, it was better for her to have her own place than to move in with Jean), and a shared two-story penthouse for the both of you that overlooks Central Park.

Eren misses her more than he cares to admit, but he puts on the same facade every time she comes home because he hates the company she brings.

Paris is where she met her newest boyfriend, Mitchell, and Eren swears he hates that man with every fiber of his being. It’s not saying much, though, not when Eren’s hated every single one of his mother’s past romantic partners, right down to his own father.

“Is… is that why you—”

“Rented a brand new Corvette and went drag racing at one in the morning?” he chuckles, “Yeah. It was stupid, I know, but I was just angry, I guess. I dunno what I was feeling, but it wasn’t good.”

You nod, wrapping both of your hands around his now and offering him a warm smile. He smiles back, just for a moment. “That’s what the tickets are for, actually. The wedding.”

“They’re getting married in France?” you question, to which he nods, “On the first? Isn’t that a little short notice to plan a wedding?”

“I think you’re underestimating the power of Carla Jaeger,” he chuckles, “Apparently, it’s been in the works for a few months now. He proposed with fireworks or some shit. Said she wanted to tell me in person, though.”

“This ticket is for next week,” you say, rereading the dates on the papers. “The wedding is three weeks from now.”

“Well, I kind of figured we could take a little vacation before then,” he grins, “I texted most of the boys earlier, and they can probably come to the wedding, but I want to spend some time with you before it gets hectic, you know? Consider it an end of the semester present.”

Your eyes flicker down to your hand, still wrapped around Eren’s, when he starts to trace circles into your skin, “I thought I just told you, you can’t jet us off to Europe to fix things.”

“You did,” he hums, “And I know I can’t—I’m not trying to, I just… Truthfully, I reserved the plane and the hotel a few weeks back and it really was just going to be a surprise for us—well, more like a gift for you because I know you’ve been busting your ass in chem—but then… everything else happened, and I think a break sounds perfect before I watch my mom get married for the sixth time.”

You watch him continue to toy with your hands for a while, processing your conversation. It was typical of Eren to surprise you like this, so you can’t figure out why this particular present leaves you feeling warmer than usual.

“You sure you don’t need a break from me?”

Eren beams and takes the opportunity to lace your fingers together. “Nah, you’re annoying, but not Jean level annoying.”

You scoff, “I’m telling him you said that.”

“It’ll sound better coming from you, anyway,” he shrugs, “Besides, I might just murder Mitchell if you’re not there with me.”

You chuckle, on the verge of accepting his proposal, but the mention of Jean prompts another thought to cross through your mind. “I’d love to, but I… I don’t know. I don’t want Armin to spend the first few weeks of winter break here all alone.”

This Christmas would mark one year since Armin had seen, or even talked to, any of his immediate family members, with the exception of Erwin.

Last year, you all tried to salvage the damage by sticking around so, at the very least, he didn’t have to feel alone. You and your friends decided that Armin ought to be celebrated, not ostracized for any aspect of himself, so you all chipped in for a cute, impromptu trip to the Catskills so that everyone could be together and close to home.

This year, however, there seemed to be quite a few conflicts of interest. Even if Armin was one of the boys who was planning on attending the wedding, you doubt he had plans leading up to it. You know that Marco, Bertholdt, Mikasa, and Jean had invited him to go to Aspen with them, but Armin declined the offer. Similarly, Connie, Sasha, Annie, Reiner, and Ymir would be off to Dubai as soon as classes ended; an invitation Armin had also turned down.

You weren’t sure what Erwin’s plans were, though you’re certain they involved his own friends in some way or another. At the very least, it was unlikely that he would leave his younger brother completely stranded over the break; but you didn’t want to make plans without knowing Armin wouldn’t be alone.

“He won’t, actually he’ll be closer than you think,” Eren reassures you, “Hange and Moblit wanted to go skiing anyways, so Erwin is taking all of them to the Alps instead of Aspen. Armin doesn’t know yet, but he’s going with them.”

“Shouldn’t Erwin spend his break campaigning, and not skiing? Last I checked, he wasn’t too popular in Queens”

“Ah, you know Erwin,” Eren shrugs, “He has a way of making people devote themselves to him. He’ll win the election with or without campaigning, trust me—the point is, that little baby Armin will be safe and sound under Erwin’s protection, and you don’t have to worry about him.”

“How come you get to call him a baby?”

“Because I’m a hypocritical asshole who doesn’t deserve you, but is hoping you’ll come with me anyway.”

Eren smirks, but there’s a genuine undertone to his words as he moves his fingers to toy with the ring around your pointer finger. The same one he gave to you two Christmases ago. Well, kind of.

The ring he originally gifted you was a Harry Winston piece, with an encrusted band that wrapped into two sunflowers, both made of classic, white diamonds with emeralds sparkling in the center. After seeing the design, and the price tag, you demanded that he take it back, or at the very least, get it sized to fit on your index finger or thumb so that people didn’t get the wrong idea.

Instead, he came back with a simple, silver chain for the original ring to hang from, and the current ring on your finger; a rose gold band with tiny diamonds studded around it. Likely equally as expensive, but more appropriate according to you.

“Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior,” you agree, paying no mind to Eren’s thumb twirling your jewelry, “Do you promise me no drag racing or antics of any sort while we’re there?”

Eren shakes his head at the memory, eyeing the first ring that sits against your chest.

He smiles. “I do.”

The afternoon after your last exam, you bid the remainder of your friends goodbye, grab your bags, and hop on a plane with Eren. It arrives in Paris, but you’re rerouted off to Nice before you can so much as blink at the Eiffel tower; you’d be staying there for the two and half weeks leading up to the wedding, in a small villa.

You had to hand it to him, Eren really outdid himself. It’s dark and nearing three in the morning when you arrive, but even in your sleepy stupor you can admire your accommodations. The villa is secluded, the perfect distance from the water, and decorated lavishly almost to your exact liking. You wouldn’t be surprised if Eren sprung it on you that he’d bought the place, and wasn’t merely renting it for this vacation.

Every day after that, Eren proves he was honest in his intentions of this being a getaway gift to you. He’s planned every activity under the sun—from hot air balloon rides, to helicopter tours, to jet-skiing. The days are certainly fun and filled with beautiful memories, but there’s something special about Nice at sunset; something about the sound of gentle waves brushing up against the beach, and the spotlights carved from sun-cast shadows on the buildings.

It’s just after dinner time, bordering on your eighth night here, when you and Eren are walking along the cobblestone streets that border the beach, the length of your sundress flowing every which way with the breeze, and the tail of Eren’s blazer flailing like a cape behind him.

He looks nice tonight, but, truthfully, he always does. He claimed he hadn’t put on the casual green suit because of your outfit, but you swear he was wearing khakis before he saw your dress. The tips of his ears go red when you tease him about it at dinner, but it doesn’t really matter to you; he would have looked good, regardless. Those suits are made for him, after all; tailored to fit perfectly, and designed by his own mother.

The streets tend to settle down after six, locals and tourists retreating indoors or heading to the beach to relax and draw in the evening. Tonight, however, there’s much more commotion than usual on your route.

“Maybe we should take the long way,” you suggest. On the tips of your toes, you realize that there’s some kind of special event happening in the square, filled with lights and music that grows louder with every step you take.

But the crowd and the lights and the smell of food only piques Eren’s interest. “No way—let’s check it out!”

You don’t have the time to refute before his long legs surpass your own stride, headfirst into the sea of people. You can only follow with a smile and a shake of your head. The soft green of his suit jacket serves as your guide as he navigates through the crowd, but the closer you get to the center, the more people there are.

You can feel palms of your hands growing uncomfortably warm as you become hyperaware of just how many people there are. You clutch the end of your dress in your hand, for both practicality and as a sort of comfort mechanism, as you try your best to calm the anxious wave threatening to crash against you.

With a deep breath, you begin to walk again, unaware of Eren’s actions until you physically walk into his hand, long fingers poking at your belly. You hadn’t realized he stopped walking, or that you’d caught up with him, and your eyebrows crinkle when you look down to see Eren’s left hand extended behind him and towards you, palm facing upwards.

He doesn’t say anything, or look back at you at all. Only wraps his larger fingers around yours when he feels the weight of your hand in his, and continues to guide you through the crowd, his pace slower, and hand firm around yours.

The mass of people becomes more spread out when you approach what appears to be the center of the event; and it looks like a party, maybe a wedding of some sort. There’s food and champagne galore, and more than enough happy guests dancing along to upbeat music in the streets.

Eren’s eyes light up as he takes in the scene, “You wanna dance?”

“What—Eren, no!” you refuse, “We cannot crash these people’s party!”

“Why not?” he counters, without a care in the world, “Seems like an open invitation to me! Come on!”

And for the second time that evening, you find yourself being pulled into his schemes; this time in the direction of the open space dubbed dance floor.

You’re both terrible and ostentatious and people start to watch, but it doesn’t matter because you’re smiling too wide and laughing too hard to care. Eren has a way of moving both with and against the music, forcing your body to follow his lead.

He shouts something over the noise, but you don’t have time to register his words before he laces your right hand with his left, and places his right hand on your waist. There’s a blink of confusion for a moment before you’re being swept off your feet and into a dramatic dip. You don’t have time to secure yourself against his shoulders, but Eren does a fine job of supporting you with a single arm against your back.

From what you can tell the song is far from over and the dramatic pose is completely unwarranted, but you and the crowd alike are victim to his charm. You indulge yourself, looking up at him with eyes too fond to memorize every feature of his face in this moment; the way he’s laughing with that big, dumb, wide smile of his that makes his nose crinkle and his eyes light up.

You’re too busy looking at him to hear Eren’s voice calling out to you, or even realize that he’s moved you from your pose to standing back upright. He’s equal parts amused and concerned at the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Hello? Anybody home up there?” he teases, elongating the vowels and squeezing your waist to alert you.

The reminder of his hands on your hips pulls you back to reality, your eyes fluttering down to his arms, then back to his face. It feels stuffy suddenly, too close to function.

“Yea—yeah! Do you wanna get a drink? Yeah, let’s get a drink!” you exclaim, haphazardly pointing and walking towards the food.

You don’t see it, but Eren looks on with glittering eyes, his verbal agreement heard only by himself as you veer towards the buffet. He can still feel your body in his grip, still see the specks of gold in your pupils as he lingers on the back of your silhouette lovingly. And before you can realize, he snaps himself out of it—an out of body experience similar to yours a few moments ago—before catching up with you.

You end up socializing for much longer than intended. Eren makes friends with everyone, to no surprise, and, uncharacteristically, you feel influenced by his actions, and converse with a few people yourself. You let him take the lead, though. Partially because he’s better at it, and partially because you just like listening to him speak French.

“Hey, we should probably get out of here,” he whispers into your ear after waving goodbye to a lovely couple you’d just met, “Before the host of this party realizes we’re miles better than his actual guests.”

You nod with a smile, more than happy to play by his rules for the evening. He offers you his hand again, that same, dopey smile on his face when you take it.

He leads you out of the crowd and back on to the path to your villa, the smell of warm food and sounds of vibrant music growing dull as you venture further from the celebration. It’s much darker than it was when you began your trek back from the restaurant, but beautiful all the same.

Your sandals pad against the wooden dock that leads up the villa, and Eren unlocks the door silently, ushering you inside before entering behind you.

“I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’m not really tired yet,” Eren confesses, pulling his blazer off of his shoulders.

“Me neither,” you say, placing your small wristlet on the table with a shrug, “What do you wanna do though, I’m not—”

“Great!” he cuts you off, smile too big. You narrow your own in suspicion. That tone of voice with that look on his face usually meant something mischievous, at best. “Remember when you said the first time you’d smoke would be with me, and then pranced away and took a bowl from Hange and got high as shit at Moblit’s party?”

“Why does everyone remember Moblit’s party but me!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles, waving the topic away, “Anyway… Do you wanna smoke now?”

You blink. “I… did you… smuggle weed all the way to France?”

“No, of course not!” he refutes, “…I got it here.”

You scoff, but don’t have the time to question him further before Eren’s tugging on your wrist and pulling you into the bedroom. You take to sitting on your bed while he rummages through his suitcase to retrieve a small, clear jar with several rolled joints inside and a lighter to match.

He shuffles next to you in the bed, mindlessly handing you the lighter while he unscrews the top off the jar. He takes out two of the joints, places one next to the jar on the nightstand, and tucks the other between his teeth. He asks you to hand him the lighter, and you do so wordlessly, distracted by the sight of Eren’s gaze and the blunt poking out his mouth.

“This’ll be fun, yeah?” He reassures you, “Technically, you let Hange take your weed virginity, but I’ll be better.”

“Can you not phrase it like that,” you roll your eyes, “You already took my virginity virginity, don’t be bitter.”

An all too smug grin settles on his features as he recounts the fact. “Besides,” you tack on, “I’ve never done it like this before. So, it’s still a first, kind of.”

Eren cups one hand around the joint, sparking the lighter with the other until it catches fire. He inhales, slow and deliberate, as if he were putting on a show, or a lesson, of sorts, taking the smoke into his lungs and out through his mouth.

You’d gravely miscalculated how attractive Eren would look doing this. Sure, he’s hot, you knew that, but the pronunciation of his jawline when he exhales, and the confidence with which he drags on the blunt is a stark reminder to you. He takes a few more hits, just as slow and sensual as the first, and the room begins to feel warmer.

“Come closer,” be beckons, smoke rolling off of his tongue with every syllable.

You snap yourself out of the haze of your imagination and scoot closer to him. He silently hands you the joint, and it feels heavy between your fingers. At the distance, you take in the smell—pungent and off-putting, but too familiar.

Eventually, you bring it to your lips, careful not to let your tongue press against the tip, and inhale slowly, like you’d seen Eren do before. You do your best to hold the smoke in your lungs for a bit, but seeing as the last time you did this you were amped up on adrenaline and drunk off your ass, the task proves to be much more difficult. It tickles before becoming uncomfortable and you exhale ungracefully, puffs of smoke punctuating your coughs.

Eren watches with a grin, amused at the sight of you fanning the excess smoke away with your nose scrunched in distaste. “You should have warned me you were gonna cough like a bitch.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you whine, trying to hide the hint of a smile creeping onto your face. You hand the blunt back to him, “You’re supposed to teach me, not tease me, asshole.”

Eren pauses his laughter, unsure of what to make of your tone; rushed, a bit embarrassed, but testy. It’s quiet while he stares at you, trying not to let the implication of your words run wild in his mind; but it’s futile when you’re pouting like that, the room is growing foggier, and he’s been semi-hard since you accepted his offer.

“Fine. Watch and learn,” he breathes, words coming out more jagged than he’d intended.

This time, he completely exaggerates every motion; he inhales at a tantalizing pace and flutters his eyes closed while he lets the smoke swish in his mouth, down his throat, and expand into his lungs. He cranes his neck upwards, and purses his lips to let the clouds exit in the streamline that follows the slope of his jaw.

Maybe it’s the drugs getting to you, but your mind is filled with nothing but sheer clouds that aren’t thick enough to block out thoughts of Eren. The weed is unattractive, potent in smell, and all kinds of wrong; yet, everything about him is soft, sultry, and pulls you in.

“Wanna try again, or do you need another lesson?”

You faintly mutter a profanity under your breath. His words end with giggles, a sign the drugs have already begun to take their effect on him, his expression is still smug. You forget Eren knows just how attractive he is. Motherfucker.

“Actually,” he cuts your train of thought, “I have a better idea, come ‘ere.”

Eren beckons you forward again, closing the gap between your legs so that your knees graze each other under the fabric of your clothing while you’re sat next to each other. He leans over, far too close into your personal space, as if to test something; he freezes when his nose is mere inches from your face, a dissatisfied scrunch taking over his features.

He reinstates his hold on your wrist, motioning your body backwards until your back is against the frame of the bed. He hums in approval, positioning himself next to you again, equally as close, but far more comfortable for what he has planned next.

“I’m—I’m gonna try somethin’, okay?” he stutters, the first word mistakenly coming out in broken German, “Just, don’t freak out on me. It’ll be good, promise.”

You nod, unsure of what you’ve just signed off on, but you don’t have time to ask questions. Eren takes another hit, then passes the blunt to his non-dominant hand. He turns to face you, leans forward, and places his free hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer; the expanse of his palm leaving room for his thumb to venture over the bottom half of your cheek.

Eren pulls you in until your lips are millimeters apart, and he can see the pattern of your eyes in beautiful detail. He shifts his hand now so that the majority of it covers your face, the pad of his thumb running across your bottom lip. He applies the perfect amount of pressure to pry your willing mouth open, and then, finally, exhales.

This time, you can taste it. It’s woodsy, and bitter, but the sweet undertones dance on your tongue. This time, there’s more to think about than just the smoke in your lungs; like the burn of Eren’s hand on your neck; the pressure of his thumb against your bottom lip; the proximity of his lips to yours; the look in his eyes.

“Feel good?” he doesn’t bother to pull away before asking, and the words ghost over your lips with the remaining smoke. You nod; he smiles. “Wanna try again?”

You let out a breathy note of affirmation, and then he’s inhaling and exhaling into you, and you welcome him with pried lips and a heavy thumping in your chest. The confidence with which he maneuvers his body and the drugs is nerve-wracking, yet comforting at the same time; he has an expertise and power that intimidates, but compels you to follow.

Together, you finish the first blunt, and Eren lights the second without missing a beat. His hands are more demanding this around; they guide you into submission, and he’s pleased to find that you’re willing to listen.

After the third exhale, you stop focusing on his hands, and more on his lips. After the fourth, you think you might be high—not to the stars as you infamously were during Moblit’s party—but with a comfortable, dull buzz in your head. Everything feels a little fuzzy, out of touch, but you host a burning want for something more, something tangible.

You don’t know it, but Eren feels the same.

After the fifth exhale, Eren pulls away, the blunt a simple stub as he flicks it away onto the night stand, and you miss him being too close. You miss his hands, you miss his warmth, you crave his touch.

“Eren,” you call, unable to think of or see anything but him in the haze. He answers with a strained, “Yeah?” keening towards the sound of your voice, wide eyes flitting all over your face.

It’s too much, too close, too hot. That’s when you cup his jaw, pull him forward, and meld your lips together.

Kissing Eren is painfully familiar, and unnervingly satisfying. It’s certainly not your first kiss with him; and, yet he has a way of making you feel like it is while reminding you of your history. His lips are soft, and they taste like smoke and the chapstick you swear by because he refuses to buy or test out his own.

You pull away too soon, gauging his reaction with blown-out eyes, before dipping forward to have him against you again. Then again, and again, and again, until Eren is tired of your leaving, and his hands are back on your neck.

This kiss is deeper, Eren searching to satisfy the hunger aching inside of him, and you’re happy to comply when his thumb is pressing at your lower lip again. You open your mouth for him and he doesn’t waste a moment, brushing his tongue against yours experimentally, and then flush into your mouth.

He groans when you rake your fingers into his hair, and pulls back with a hissing noise when you scratch at his nape. Large hands move to grip at your waist, and he pulls you into his lap with a concentrated gaze—a brief second for him to admire the sight of you on top of him, before he resumes kissing you. He sucks on your tongue, rolls his past your teeth, and bites on your bottom lip.

You know he relishes in the sounds he elicits from you, and under any normal circumstance, you’re willing to put up a fight with him, but not now. Now, you let him unzip the back of your dress and snake his hands beneath the fabric. The rubbing motions of his hands turn into gripping, gripping into grinding, and eventually, an unfiltered moan slips past your lips when you feel Eren’s erection roll against you.

“Fuck,” he pulls back with a suck of your swollen lip, “You’re so hot.”

Eren quickly switches your positions so that he’s hovering over you. You chuckle lightly underneath him, taking the opportunity to run both your hands through his hair and cradle his head in your hold, “Haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know,” Eren murmurs, dipping his head down to press kisses into your neck, “Still so sexy. So pretty, always.”

Eren bites a hickey into your collar bone, and everywhere he can touch; your neck, your ears, your cheeks, your lips. Your moaning serves as the spark to keep him going, but he’s barely coherent himself the way you keep pulling at his hair and grinding yourself against him. Even through his clothes, you can feel how painfully hard he is.

He barely catches your tongue between his lips when you moan again, sucking harshly before bruising his lips over yours again. His hands are grabby again, finally pulling your dress completely off of your body, leaving it to form a puddle on the ground. They’re back on your as soon as possible, massaging over your tits, and running his index finger over your nipples.

“Eren... Eren, please,” you whimper, chest heaving as you look down at him. He rolls his index finger over your right nipple, with his left hand teasing the other with his thumb. You can’t tell if the look in his eyes is a product of the weed, or just his glassy, borderline predatory stare, but it makes you shiver with pleasure when he wraps his mouth around your nipple and sucks.

“I want you.”

“Want you, too,” Eren hums, pulling back with a thin trail of spit from your breast, before moving to give your left nipple the same treatment, “More than you know.”

You keen to him when he teases his teeth against you, finally having had enough you force him off of you with a tug of his hair. “Then take off your clothes.”

Eren blinks, wide-eyed but glazed all the same. He chuckles lightly, a blush spreading over his cheeks as he nods. He sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head, forgoing undoing the buttons, and pauses briefly with his hands over the zipper of his pants.

“Please tell me you’re not that gone that you forgot how to undo your zipper,” you tease him, chest still heaving from his previous ministrations. Eren smiles, doe-eyed and hazy, and shakes his head.

“No,” he reassures you, finally undoing his zipper and shimmying his pants off his legs, “Was trying to remember what underwear I was wearing. Didn't want it to be embarrassing.”

His honesty makes you laugh, and Eren pauses for a moment to soak it in. Even like this, even with him stumbling over the steps to undress himself, and you almost completely naked in front of him, he can make you smile. There’s something equally sexy and endearing about your giggles; a juxtaposition that makes him want to hug you or kiss you or something in between. And you—you like the look in his eyes even through your giggling; the way he smiles back and blushes and tells you exactly what he’s thinking.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “Don’t think mine are particularly sexy either.”

Eren hums, shuffling back on to the bed so that he’s between your legs, and leans forward to kiss you again. He still can’t seem to keep his hands off of you, his fingers immediately flying to your underwear and peeling them off your legs, pulling you closer despite the lack of space between your bodies.

“Yeah, doesn’t matter,” Eren echos, tossing the offending item to the side, before cupping your face in his hands, “I’d still wanna fuck you in your granny panties.”

“You wanna fuck me?” you question, eyes sparkling and hopeful.

“Yeah, I do,” Eren can’t help but to smile again, happy and high and drunk on you, too, “Will you let me?”

Your feverish nodding is all it takes for Eren’s mind to go hazy again; clouded with you, you, you. You pull him into a kiss, arching your body into his, and running your hands down the sides of his back. He moans at the feeling, punishing you by nipping at your lower lip and pressing your stomach back to the mattress with his palm.

Your eyes meet his as Eren lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with the head; but it doesn’t take long before he finally pushes in, sheathing himself inside you completely without movement. He waits a minute, whether it’s to make you comfortable, or to gather his own bearings, you’re not sure; but when he’s ready, he flashes you a smile and waits for one in return, before he starts thrusting.

You know Eren’s not gentle; rough whether or not he intends to be by virtue of his size in comparison to you, but you seem to have forgotten just how capable he is of making you lose your senses. He has you gasping, grasping at him at him unintelligibly, feeling full with his cock inside of you.

Eren groans, borderline growls, when he feels you clench around him, when he sees you shaking beneath him. He could do this all; could watch you all day.

“So pretty, the prettiest. Prettiest girl, my favorite girl,” Eren praises, eyes raking up and down your thrashing body, “My favorite fucking girl.”

“You—you, too.”

“Yeah? I’m your favorite, too?” Eren coos, reaching out to guide your arms over your head, the force of his body pinning your hands down; you can hardly gasp before he lacess your fingers together, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“Promised you, didn’t I? That I’d be good to you, be on my best behavior,” Eren reminds you, leaning forward.

He eyes your necklace—eyes glued to ring around it—bouncing with your body. He bends his head down to kiss it, bites at the skin near it; a possessive streak overcoming him as the diamonds shine against you. “I said I’d treat you good, always. Meant it.”

He stutters, when you squeeze him back; fingers tightening around his hold, your pussy clenching around his cock. Your whining is insistent, and mixes with Eren’s low moans and guttural noises. Eren doesn’t let up his pace, fucking you fast and deep, and it’s only a matter of time before you feel a knot twisting in your belly.

You attempt to move your arms, searching for a release of the feeling building up inside of you but Eren is strong; stronger than you, and he keeps you in your place. Keeps your arms pinned above you, keeps his palms pressed into yours, keeps his lips hovering above yours, just out of reach.

“Eren,” you call his name through shaky moans.

“Yeah? What, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, his lips needy and hungry over yours. Eren fucks you and kisses you through your orgasm, tasting your moans on his tongue in timing with him cumming inside of you. You don’t let up; kissing him lewdly while you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” Eren croons against your lips, down your jaw, into your skin, “So good for me.”

You both moan in chorus when he finally pulls out, Eren’s head laying on your collar, nose nuzzling into your neck. He lets your hands free, and immediately you wrap them around his back, holding him close as you both attempt to catch your breaths.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, with Eren on top of you, and your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek while he sleeps soundly. Maybe an hour, maybe more, maybe less; but the euphoria of your sex doesn’t quiet seem to fade.

It might last all night, maybe even for the rest of your trip but you don’t mind. You think back to earlier in the evening, when you’d caught his gaze after your dance. The feeling isn’t all that different; warm, and fuzzy, and too much and not enough all at once. It feels good, it feels like Eren.

You hum softly to yourself, careful not to wake up the sleeping boy on your chest, when you realize exactly what these two moments have in common: a rare event in which Eren is still in front of you, steady and stagnant, no running or chasing; and you don’t want to let him go.

Sometimes Eren thinks you act oblivious on purpose just to fuck with him, because there’s absolutely no way you—or any human with a functioning nervous system and social cues—can’t tell that he’s completely, stupidly, and embarrassingly in love with you.

Long gone are his days of trying to deny it or get over it. He realized that sophomore year of high school—almost eight years ago—that no matter where he went, what kind of drug he inhaled, or how hard he tried, you’d be permanently etched into his heart. That doesn’t make it any less exhausting, and, in fact, only makes it more astounding that you haven’t caught on yet. Honestly, Eren’s considered hiring a private psychiatrist just to make nothing’s wrong with you.

Amazingly, the remainder of your vacation continues just like the former half. The only exception being that now you’re in Paris. And that he’s shamelessly coerced you into letting him fuck your brains out on several occasions. But besides that, everything’s chill.

Just two best friends traveling through France together and stopping to fuck in any semi-private location they can find. Just two peas in a pod walking along the Champs Elysées at damn near midnight. Just two best buds with linked arms tasting (see: feeding each other) every macaron flavor they come across while violinists play stupidly romantic, classical music in the background.

He knows he should probably talk to you about it, but for some reason he can’t. Like telling you would make it all too real, and give it a meaning that could so easily be taken away from him; give you a reason to want to leave him. Right now, it’s just a fantasy, and he’s free to keep dreaming, believing that he’s special and worth enough for the affection you’ve shown him.

He doesn’t want to be one in a list of your boyfriends, or fiances, or husbands; he wants to be your only one, and if he can’t be, then he’d rather be stuck to your side as your best friend. At least that way, in someway, he could remain special to you; not a forgotten, ordinary ex of your past.

Though, a best friend who he’s sleeping with regularly and he’s in love with and will always be in love with is starting to sound a lot like a husband to him. At least, the kind of husband he would like to be to you.

You call his name, asking him if he wants to try another sweet. Eren rolls his eyes. What he wants is to fuck you, and marry you, and have you bless his stupid little existence with two runts for kids that look like him but act like you so his life savings don’t run out by the time they’re twelve. But sure, he’ll settle for having you feed him another macaron in the meantime.

“This one tastes just like the coconut one,” he mumbles, chewing his way through the pastry you’d stuffed into his mouth whole.

It’s the seventh bakery you’ve stopped at tonight, and even though Eren’s growing pretty sick of the sugary treats, he’ll walk with you to every damn bakery in Paris tonight if that’s what you want.

He blinks at the thought. He’s so lovesick it’s disgusting. And he wouldn’t do a damn thing to change it.

“That’s probably because it’s almond and coconut flavored,” you say, wiping the stickiness from your fingers onto a napkin.

“I didn’t taste any almonds.”

“I don’t even think you could spell almond, much less tell me what they taste like.”

Eren simply pouts in refute, leaving you giggling at his expression. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but you seem even prettier in Paris than in Nice. But, that’s probably his rose-colored glasses speaking.

“You think there’ll be macarons at the reception?” you question, biting into yet another pistachio flavored treat, “And if not, would it be rude to bring my own?”

He chuckles. “Yes, babe, I’m sure there will be macarons there.”

He’s always loved Paris, even when his mom moved away here and left him in New York, and he’d always loved it more when you’re with him. He feared that having to attend another, what he considered to be wasteful, wedding in arguably one of his favorite places in the world would leave a bitter taste in his mouth; but, thankfully, he’s only fallen deeper in love since being here.

“You sure you won’t be sick of them by tomorrow?” he asks, watching you debate between taste testing another variation of vanilla bean or rosé.

“How could I get sick of them?” you answer offhandedly, not sparing him a glance away as you choose the pink snack. How could he get sick of you.

“By the time we get back to New York you’ll have forgotten all about them,” he scoffs.

“Don’t worry I’ll quit it soon. I’ll have to eat something solid if I wanna take my meds and go to bed,” you spew with a smile, unaware of what you’ve actually just said, “But they are delicious and I have no regrets.”

Eren pauses. Then so do you, mouth stuffed with sickly sweet.

“I mean—”

“I know, you know,” he cuts you off, “About the meds and stuff.”

You look like you could pass out, or scream, or cry, or everything in between. Eren figures saying more is better than saying less, so he continues.

“I saw a bottle in the bathroom a few months ago,” he admits shyly, but careful about his tone, “Didn’t understand half the words on the label, but it had your name on it so I just, uh… Googled it.”

Of course he knows. Eren’s always kind of known, just never had the words to express it. He imagines that’s what you’re feeling right now.

“Oh,” you finally gape, “Why didn’t you, um… you know, like, say… anything?”

“It seemed like your secret to tell,” Eren shrugs, features softening out, “Besides, I figured you’d tell me when you wanted to.”

Eren’s always been better at showing than saying, anyway. He hopes that his actions, small as they may seem, might have provided you with any sort of comfort in the past few months. Maybe even before that, too.

“Oh,” you repeat, continually blinking at him, “That’s… that’s it? You’re cool with it?”

Now it’s Eren’s turn to blink. “What do you mean am I cool with it? They’re your meds.”

“Yeah, but like… you’re not mad I didn’t tell—”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he cuts you off with a soft smile, “It’s not really my business. I mean, like, you’re my business because I care about you, but you have your own private stuff, too, which is cool. Besides, when I was, uh, researching it, I learned that it can be hard to tell people stuff like that even if—”

Eren shuts up when he feels your weight against him and your arms wrapped around him. Shell shocked, he takes a moment to hug you back, and slowly comes to rest his chin atop your head after leaving a flurry of kisses.

“You didn’t have to look it up or do any kind of research, you know,” you mumble softly into his jacket. Eren borderline chortles, but only hugs you more tightly.

“Of course I did. If not for you, then for myself, because I meant it when I said I’d never seen half the words on the prescription before in my life,” he replies, heart glowing at the sound of your small chuckles.

He’s expecting an equally witty response, but you surprise him when you pull back just enough to face him, a hazy smile on your face. “You’re amazing, Eren.”

Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush, fool. Don’t blush—fucking idiot.

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he boasts, leaning back into the coolest pose he could muster up while ignoring the growing heat creeping up his neck. It’s all in vain as you reach over to playfully tug at one of his ears.

He thinks you’re pretty like this. All the time, but most notably when he has you in his arms. So pretty, that he has to lean forward to kiss you; you don’t seem to mind, if the way you smile into the kiss is any indication of your feelings. Eren finds himself mirroring your grin; moving his arms from around your waist to the sides of your face.

The workers in this poor little café probably hate the two of you, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s got his favorite girl in his arms right now, and you taste like almonds and coconuts and like the love of his life.

And he should tell you. Eren wants to tell you, and he finds himself wondering if those same intrusive, fearful thoughts were part of the driving force behind your own reason to keep your secrets from him.

You pull away from him, hands lightly draped around his neck, and you smile like you’re shy—like he hasn’t known you your whole life. Still, Eren finds himself smiling back; and thinks that if you were brave enough to tell him how you were feeling, then he should do the same.

“(_____), I… I gotta tell you something,” he starts, voice soft as his fingers curl around your waist a little more tightly, “Though, I’m kind of hoping you already know.”

You blink at him, almost innocently. Eren bites the inside of his jaw; you’re going to have to stop doing that before he jumps you again.

Better now than never, he supposes. He tries to shake his nerves when he takes your hands in his, completely covering them with his palms, and closes his eyes. Despite that, you try to offer him comfort, squeezing his fingers as best you can; and Eren takes that moment to thank his lucky stars for whoever decided to put you in his life. Because he knows that no matter what, even if he royally fucks this up, you’ll find some way to be there for him.

He slowly blinks his eyes open again, gaze resting on the ring around your neck. A faded chuckle escapes his lips when looks at it. The only one who got the wrong idea about his gift was you. But, he supposes that’s his fault; he never did explain it, after all.

“It’s nothing… It’s just that, I’m in—”

But Eren’s startled by a voice that makes him freeze. He almost wants to believe he misheard it, but he can hear the telltale clacking of vintage heels on the floor of the bakery and he knows that he didn’t mishear a thing.

Eren turns his head, and sure enough, there is his mother, in all her five foot glory, adorned in designer clothing from her beret to her shoes. With a fucking street urchin on her arm.

“Well, well, well, what a lovely surprise,” Carla beams, red lipstick perfectly in place even after a long day of wear.

Eren’s eyebrows draw together, as he takes in his mother and her fiancé standing in front of him. He can just barely register you calling out towards her, carefully maneuvering yourself off of his lap, and into the neighboring chair; but still keeping your right hand wrapped around his left. He can feel you squeeze it—whether to give him comfort, or warning, he’s not sure yet; probably both.

“It’s so good to see you!” you beam, excitedly offering her and Mitchell a seat across from the two of you at the table. Eren opens his mouth to refute, but you squeeze his hand again; a warning.

Carla leans forward to encase you in a hug, exchanging cheek kisses, and leaving Eren to stare at the street rat across from him. Mitchell seems to know better than to make eye contact with him, irises scattering from Carla’s back to the décor of the bakery while the two girls catch up.

“We missed you at the rehearsal dinner on Sunday,” Carla recounts, eyes fluttering to Eren’s briefly. One look into her son’s eyes, and she understands why; one look into his mother’s eyes, and Eren knows she has him all figured out. “I was worried you might not show at all.”

Eren strategically averts your gaze when you turn your head towards him, choosing to look at his mother instead.

“I didn’t even know there was a rehearsal dinner,” you tell her, tone polite, but Eren can hear the clear jab directed towards him, “I’m sorry, I—we would have gone, otherwise.”

“No need to apologize, darling,” Carla smiles, “I’m sure you two were very busy.”

“We were,” Eren cuts in, words definite. He sees a hint of surprise flash in his mother’s eyes briefly, expertly covered up with her sweet demeanor. She only nods in understanding, sitting back a bit to wrap her arm around Mitchell’s.

“What are you even doing here, Ma?” Eren questions, even as you do the same with his hands under the table, “Isn’t it bad luck to see the groom before the wedding.”

“After the third or fourth wedding, you grow tired of pleasantries and superstitions, my love,” she replies, “This place makes Mitchell’s favorite macarons, we thought we’d share a few before the big day. Maybe get some tea as a pre-celebration.”

The topic of sweets has you speaking up once again, engaging both his mother and Mitchell in a discussion about them, and your other findings from bakery hopping earlier. If Eren didn’t love you to pieces, he would have left the table a long time ago.

It carries on much longer than he can bear to endure; almost an hour of you, and his mother, and Mitchell making pleasant conversation while he tries his best not to brood beside you, but it’s futile. He feels like a little kid again. Stuck at the dinner table with his mother and a man he was being forced to get to know, only for him to become a stranger to him in a matter of months.

Eren grinds his teeth into each other when you laugh at something Mitchell says. He’s not going to sit through his any longer; or ever again.

“Well, this has been fun,” Eren says, voice blatantly monotonous as his cuts through the conversation, “But we should all probably head back go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”

“Eren, we should—” but, he stands up quickly, hand wrapping around yours to force you upwards too.

He doesn’t care to look at you, knowing the dissatisfied expression he’ll be met with. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out too many Euros, neatly tucking them under an unused knife to pay for the meal.

Eren’s steps out from between his chair and the table. “We’ll see you guys tomorr—” But is stopped before he can take three steps away.

His mother’s hand wrapped around his wrist. She stands, significantly shorter than Eren’s full height. “Actually, Eren, could I borrow you for a bit?”

And he doesn’t want to, because he knows exactly the conversation waiting for him. But he looks down at her, lets his eyes flicker to you, and back to her, and he knows he doesn’t have the heart to walk away. Not even if he tried.

He sighs with a shallow nod. He can feel your hand on his shoulder, the proud smile on your lips when you tell him that you’ll meet him back at your hotel. Mitchell ensures him and Carla that he’ll make sure you get back safely, and Eren still can’t stand the guy, but he’s grateful that he can at least be of use for something.

Eren kisses you on the forehead briefly, a promise to you and himself that he’ll finish his confession later. After all, he probably should come to terms with the woman who taught him what love is before he vowed to love you for the rest of his life.

The walk to his mother’s hotel is silent, Eren choosing to keep to himself, hands stuffed in his pockets to prevent his mom from holding them. He’s probably acting like a child, but isn’t that what he is to her; isn’t that she treats him as.

“Look, Ma, you don’t need my approval to marry him,” Eren grumbles, when they finally exit the elevator into the hotel room, “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Of course I don’t,” Carla offers him a small grin, even if he won’t look at her directly, “But it matters to me.”

“Why does it matter now? It didn’t matter with Keith, or Henry, or Henri with an I, or any of the others,” Eren mumbles, reluctantly taking a seat on the stool opposite the vanity.

His mother tracks his movements with soft eyes and an amused grin as Eren absentmindedly bends a knee and begins to fiddle with the hem of his pants. Just like he used to when he was upset as a child.

“It mattered then, too, Eren,” she tells him, sitting on the stool and facing him.

He’s surprised by her words, his wide eyes giving him away even if he attempts to act unfazed. “It didn’t seem like it.”

Carla opens her mouth to speak, but closes it, words stuck in her throat. She watches Eren’s hunched figure, her tall son not even bothering to look her in the eyes. She exhales slowly; if he were five feet smaller, he’d have tucked himself under her arm, still refusing to look at her, but he’d have snuggled his head into her side while he pouted anyway.

“I suppose it didn’t,” she admits, “In the end, the love wasn’t enough to make it last, then.”

Eren is quiet for a bit at that, pulling at his pants leg. “And… and you love him enough, now?”

“It’s more than love, Eren. It’s... happiness—for yourself and another person—it’s being okay with somebody knowing you now, and forever. Whichever version of you that is.”

“Then why did you marry them before?” Eren asks, “If you knew it wasn’t enough, if you knew it was just going to end up as another big mistake.”

“Maybe the marriages were a mistake, and some of what came with them, but I don’t think the feelings were,” Carla muses, “Love is never wasted.”

“How can you say that?” Eren questions, disbelief and exasperation painted on his face, “Of course it is—you wasted your time, and your money, and your—your everything on those people who couldn’t care less about you now!”

“Eren—”

“You let them into our house,” Eren speaks over her, “You let them into your life, and they left. They always left—”

“Eren—”

“—And you even let some of them come back! Everyone, you let everyone have another chance, another anniversary, another wedding,” He’s ranting, crying, hot, irrational tears streaming down his face; hiccups interrupting his speech, “So—so, so if it’s not wasted and everyone gets another chance and another chance and another chance—why didn’t he come back, huh? For his?”

Eren’s standing now, arms flailing every which way during his breakdown, but his mother doesn’t try to stop him. She lets him continue, hears him out.

“If it’s love—if it’s not wasted, and it’s real—then why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he want to? Why—why didn’t he want me? Why did I end up the bastard?”

Eren looks his mother in the eyes for the first time in the duration of their conversation with that final question; with his vision blurry, and chest heaving, and cheeks wet. Carla has no words to say; can only carefully open her arms, and wait for her son to come crashing into them. And he does; and it rains and pours, and Eren holds onto his mother for dear life, and onto the pieces of her breaking heart.

“Am I not good enough to have that kind of love?” Eren asks through tears, “Am I not special enough to want to know?”

“Eren,” she finally speaks, moving to cradle his head in her hands, “You don’t have to be special or good, to be known or loved. It’s enough that you were born. That’s enough to make you deserving of love.”

She doesn’t mind the tears against her palms or the hiccups of Eren’s breathing, “And you already have it.”

And Eren looks at her with eyes wide and wild like a child, staring at the first person to have ever loved someone as messed up, and plain, and ordinary as him; and he can feel more tears bubbling at his eyes.

“Ma, I’m—I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, wrapping his arms around her even tighter, chin resting on her shoulder while his shake through his tears, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Carla hugs her son as close as she can, like he’s five years old and the apple of her eye and she can take all his pain away. “You don’t have to be. You’re my son, and I’ll love you always.”

It feels like they have all the time in the world like that, to hug and cry and apologize; but Carla hopes Eren knows that he was always forgiven; that he never had anything to apologize for in the first place.

“She loves you, too, baby,” she coos, holding Eren as tight as possible, “But you have to let her know that. That you accept it.”

“Do you think she knows?” Eren asks, words muffled into the fabric of her clothing, “That I love her, too?”

“I do,” Carla confirms, pulling away to look at Eren in the eyes; his beautiful, shining, green eyes, “But I don’t think that either of you really realized it. I mean, you did give her an engagement ring, darling.”

Eren huffs at the memory, “She thought it was a gift.”

“Because you gave it to her as a gift.”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Love has a way of making people blind,” Carla muses, “Especially two lovesick semi-adults with too much money on their hands.”

Eren’s cheeks grow pink at the accusation, “It’s your money!”

“Yes, and I’m very happy to have it,” Carla chuckles, motioning for Eren to stand up. He does, and she looks up at him with glimmering, proud eyes. “Now, go, shoo. You have a girl to propose to, don’t you? There might be two Jaeger weddings this weekend.”

Eren nods, certain of himself for the first time in a while. He turns on his heel with a vigor igniting his footsteps, but pauses when he reaches the elevator. He makes a sharp turn, running back to his mom one last time, and squeezing her suddenly, and tightly against him.

“I love you, mom,” he says; the words too foreign on his tongue, and he vows to not let them be a stranger to his vocabulary from here on out.

“I love, you, too, Eren,” Carla calmly wraps her arms around her son one last time, “And I always will.”

You half-expected your walk back to your hotel with Mitchell to be painfully awkward, but he proves to be a pleasant conversationalist, even in Carla’s absence.

You know that Eren isn’t fond of him, but you wish that he would at least give him a chance. There’s no way to know if a marriage—if any relationship—will last forever, but, sometimes, you think it’s not about knowing about forever; but, rather about wanting it to make it there; about willing to go the distance with that person.

You can see that want, that willingness that works alongside love in Mitchell and Carla’s relationship, that stands out from her past marriages. You get the feeling they’re going to last; and that, most importantly, they both want it to, too.

It’s quiet out as you both walk the streets of Paris, Mitchell taking the time to point out small notes in architecture that interest you. You readjust your jacket as a gust of wind washes over you, careful to make sure your necklace doesn’t snag against your clothing.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he calls to you gently.

“Thank you,” Surprised, you quickly let out an embarrassed cough, looking down to your left hand resting atop the uppermost button on your coat. “It was a gift.”

“I meant that one,” Mitchell corrects, carefully gesturing to his own neck to indicate that he was talking about the ring on your necklace, and not the one on your finger.

“Oh, thank you,” you repeat, “That one was actually a gift, too.”

The older man hums, continuing your walk to your hotel. “Must have been one hell of a gift. I don’t know many people who give out engagement rings as presents.”

“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn’t—it’s not an engagement ring,” you tell him, feeling a warmth creep up your cheeks even in the chilly atmosphere of the night, “Eren gave it to me, actually, a few years ago—it was a Christmas gift.”

“Eren, huh?” Mitchell smiles fondly, “That makes sense. Carla tells me how much he cares about you.”

“You—she does?” you stutter. Mitchell nods. “I—I mean, I care about him, too.”

“Enough to accept an engagement ring from him, it seems,” Mitchell taunts, “I’m no specialist, but I know a Harry Winston piece when I see it. They’re not cheap.”

“Trust me, I know,” you scoff, “I almost killed him when I saw how much he spent on it.”

“And you took it, anyway?”

“Well, he—he was supposed to return it,” you defend yourself, “Because I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea! But he just, well, he gave me the other one instead, so I wear that one on my hand.”

Mitchell pauses, just as you both stand to the entrance of your hotel. “And what was the wrong idea you didn’t want people getting.”

“That... that...,” you pause, thinking back to that Christmas day.

Even though Eren is known for spending ludacris amounts of money, the ring came as a genuine surprise to you. A couple thousand on shoes, sure—you’re victim to that yourself; a couple hundred thousand on a lavish vacation wasn’t out of the ordinary, either; but a million, maybe even more, on a ring that you could have only ever asked of him in your dreams was another thing completely.

And, sure, even a few million didn’t mean much to you or Eren at the end of the day, but it wasn’t just the price; it was the object of the money, too. To accept a house, or a car, or a jet for that amount is something you could rationalize; but a ring seemed foreign, and far out of your league.

Then there was the display and value it held beyond money. It’s beautiful, gorgeous, but more than that, it’s tailored to your exact liking. The synthesis of your aesthetic and everything you could ask for, garnished with the memory of Eren in the very design; the diamonds you love, the flowers that remind him of you, and the way they stems wrap around each other and the petals meet in the middle.

A small gasp leaves your lips and instinctively, you reach to clutch the ring in your hold. There was no way this was an engagement ring... Eren hadn’t proposed to you when he gave it to you—in fact, he was so casual about it, that it had you stunned that he hadn’t thought to consider that other people might think it meant something more than what he intended it to be.

But, looking back, it seems like you’re the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. Because Eren told you, even then, that he’d wanted you forever; you didn’t know how to hear him. It was all right there—not just in the ring, but in all his gifts, in the entirety of your friendship.

Eren loves you, more than you could ever know.

“It’s an engagement ring,” you say aloud, but more to yourself than to Mitchell, “Oh my god, it’s an engagement ring.”

Mitchell can’t do anything but smile at your revelation. You’re practically bouncing off the walls, connecting the puzzle pieces of your relationship in the middle of the street at damn near midnight, but you don’t care; because it finally feels right, and it finally, finally all makes sense.

“He, but he never pro—oh my fucking god, I’m going to kill him.”

You feel elated and confused and happy and murderous all at once. Eren wanted to marry you; Eren loved you. He wants you for the rest of his life, and you’ve been too blind to see it this entire time.

Still, you think that maybe a verbal proposal might have helped to open your eyes a bit.

“Mitchell, I have to—”

You’re cut off by the echo of your name coming from the opposite end of the street, and you can just barely make out of Eren’s figure in the faded lights of the street lamps. His name falls from your lips like a whisper, and you hardly register Mitchell’s amused, soft laughter from beside you.

“I think that’s my cue,” he says, patting you on the shoulder, “I better get back to Carla. Something tells me you two have a bit to talk about.”

You can barely nod at him, eye still wide and stunned, but a smile on your face even in your fearful anticipation. You don’t have time to thank him before he turns away, bidding you goodnight; and then you have something else to focus on, as Eren’s footsteps grow louder, and his silhouette grows sharper the closer he gets to you.

He practically crashes into you, chest heaving, hair wind-swept and wild from his running. He puts his hands on your shoulders, to steady himself physically and mentally, labored breaths ghosting over the top of your head.

“Hi,” he finally squeaks; and that stupid, big, dopey grin is on his face.

It’s ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous that you can’t help but greet him back. The two of you stand there, smiling like fools for god knows how long, before the realization strikes you for a second time.

Eren opens his mouth to finally speak, but a pained squeal leaves his lips instead as he feels the back of your hand slap his chest. “Ouch—hey, what was that for!”

“What the hell do you think you were doing proposing to me without telling me?” you screech, packing another punch to his chest for good measure, but it’s a poor barrier and does nothing to stop your tears from falling, “You’re an idiot, I should kill you for this, you know that, Eren Jaeger?”

Eren laughs softly, only to be heard by you in close proximity. He takes your offending hand in his, and reaches for your other, pulling both of them between your bodies. He can feel tears welling in his own eyes, as he looks down at the necklace, glimmering perfectly under the moonlight.  

“In my defense, the first thing you told me to do when I gave it to you was to return it.”

“I might not have said that if you told me what it meant,” you can hardly choke out a laugh through your tears; and Eren can’t stop his from falling either, “It’s insane, you know. This whole thing—to ask me to marry you at 19. For me to not realize until we’re 21.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, inching closer even though there’s barely any room between you, “I know. But I know I love you, every version of you. I always have, I always will.”

You close your eyes as Eren’s hands move to your face, gingerly sweeping your tears away from your cheeks. He feels too close, it feels like too much; but you don’t want him to move.

“You know... if you had asked me, then,” you start, blinking your eyes open with a sniffle; you’re met with Eren’s emerald greens one with far too much hope and love glimmering in them, “I—I don’t even know what I would have said.”

“And if I asked you now?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, slowly raising your hands to wrap around Eren’s wrist, and lower them to your neck, before looking at him again, “Ask me.”

Eren blinks, carefully trailing his hands up and around your neck, nimble fingers undoing the clasp of your necklace. He hardly lets the chain pool into his hand before it’s tossed aside, and the ring is still between his thumbs and index fingers as he lowers himself on to one knee.

“You are the love of my life, and there’s not a single version of life—a single version of you, or me—where I don’t want to be with you forever,” Eren says, “And you know how shit I am with my words, but I fucking mean it. I swear to you, that I’ll do my best every day to show you how much you mean to me; marry me, and I’ll prove it to you, I swear, I will.”  

Your lips are wobbling at Eren’s confession below you, and you can just barely beckon him upwards in your state. He’s hardly back on two feet before you’re pulling him against you, ghosting the word “yes” on his lips before you kiss him.

You both melt into the kiss, Eren’s hands skillfully cupping your cheeks, while he keeps the ring in his hold and bruises your lips together.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, Eren,” you assure him, hand shaking when you pull apart and let him slip the ring onto your finger—where it belongs, “You already have.”

For his first birthday as a married man, Eren requested something intimate. He wanted just a small celebration with all of your mutual friends, some good food, alcohol, and lots of fun.

Supposedly simple and intimate for him entailed renting out the top floor of the Whitney, which was currently encasing an exhibit portraying some kind of abstract modern art that allowed for a very drunk Eren and Armin have to entertain themselves by trying their best to recreate the paintings using very flawed couples aerial yoga.

The art, paired with the dimmed lighting, Jean’s choice selection of overtly sexual music, and Eren’s pick of overpriced champagne also meant that Marco, Bertholdt, Connie, and Sasha found everything ten times funnier than they were—which meant they were a million times louder than usual.

Jean stands next to you by the bar, watching as Eren attempts to hold Armin above his head by holding on to just his waist. They’re unsuccessful, of course, resulting in both boys toppling onto the ground as the majority of their older friends laugh along.

“Lucky me, I get to take him home at the end of the night,” you drawl, turning to the bartender to order another drink.

She smiles, easily preparing your martini and sliding it you with an inquiry. “That’s your boyfriend? The tall one with the brown hair?”

“No,” you sigh, eyes closed for a moment before taking the glass between your fingers. “That’s my husband, unfortunately.”

× even more notes: this fic. is my baby. it’s been a draft of mine for over two years at this point. it’s gone through various fandoms but i’ve never quite been able to complete and post it, so i’m very happy that it’s finally here! i hope you all enjoyed, and i just wanted to say that i’m glad to finally have been able to share this with you all!

[kkodzvken]

suit up - hawks x f. reader

the one where keigo marries the girl of his dreams, and then takes her home and shows her just how loved she is. title cred/inspo: suit up by jonghyun

notes/warnings: smut and fluff (your teeth may rot and fall out, you’ve been warned), soft dom!keigo, praise kink, slight size kink, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex + creampie. reader and kei use the traffic light safe word system and they review it beforehand, and he checks in with her at one point but she’s green, so everything is 100% consensual. they flirt + kei says explicit things at the reception but nothing /actually/ happens in public. mentions of alcohol

wc: 5.3k

a/n: this idea’s been bouncing around my head for a while bc i wanna marry this dumbass so bad :’) my first full hawks fic!! im so happy hehe

Beautiful.  

You’re so beautiful.

Keigo’s always known, of course. He’s found you beautiful since the very first moment that he laid his eyes on you, all those years ago. He tells you that you’re beautiful every single day, no matter how much you roll your eyes or jokingly tell him to shut up.

You’re beautiful all the time, but there are certain moments that leave him especially breathless. The day that you foolishly challenged Rumi to an arm-wrestling match. The determined look in your eye as you clenched your fist, sweat dripping down your brow and arm muscles straining (you lost, of course – the rabbit hero was ridiculously jacked). The brilliant smile that graces your face whenever he brings you flowers or little souvenirs from his work trips. The very first morning after you moved into his penthouse, when he woke up next to your peaceful sleeping form, and realized that he’d have mornings like this for the rest of his life.

The day that he flew you up to the mountains for a starlit picnic. The smile on your face as you polished off your meal, and the way that your hand flew up to your mouth when he got down on one knee. Your teary-eyed look of pure love as he slipped the ring onto your finger, the diamond gleaming like one of the stars that shone down on you. The way that your eyes rolled back and your legs wrapped around his waist when he took you home and fucked you for hours.

And right now. Keigo swore that his heart damn near burst at the sight of you. The organist was playing, but he couldn’t hear the notes, couldn’t hear anything besides the blood rushing in his ears. Your hands clasped an elegant flower bouquet, and Keigo was sure that the blossoms were pretty, but he couldn’t spare even a second to glance at them. No, his entire focus was trained on you. You, with your beautiful dress that perfectly accentuated the body that he loved so much. When your eyes raised to meet his, and that perfect smile worked its way across your face… he had to bite his inner cheek to try and hold the tears back.

In a simultaneous eternity and heartbeat, you were handing off your bouquet to a bridesmaid and clasping Keigo’s large hands with your much smaller ones. The officiant was speaking, but Keigo didn’t process any of it. The sight of your eyes shining up at him, more beautiful than any of the stars in the night sky, was the only thing anchoring him to the world. He felt like he was floating through a dreamscape with only you, the happiness in his chest powerful and all-encompassing.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re talking to a group of your old friends from high school when a tap against your shoulder grabs your attention, and you turn to see your fiancé – no, your husband – smirking down at you. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Excuse me, ladies,” he says to your friends. “Mind if I steal her for a moment?” His amber eyes glint mischievously, and you swear that a whole swarm of butterflies take flight in your stomach.

Your friends giggle and nod, and then Keigo’s spinning you around so that you’re face-to-face. He’s stunning, in his black suit and red dress shirt, the shade of crimson matching his wings perfectly. “Dance with me, dove,” he says, before leaning down to press a quick kiss against your lips. You nod, and he leads you towards the center of the venue, where most of your guests are dancing to some cheesy pop song. Keigo nods at the DJ, who nods back and switches to the music. Soft synth notes travel through the speakers, before the singer’s dreamy voice floods your ears.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders. His wings move to wrap around you protectively. You’re not sure if he even realizes that he does it – it’s such a normal thing, now, for him to shield you, to create a little cocoon for the two of you. You frown as you feel his muscles moving underneath your fingers. “You’re too tense,” you say, fingers gently kneading at the parts of his back that you can reach. “Let me give you a massage once we get home.”

He chuckles, one of his own hands coming up to capture yours. He laces your fingers together before bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin. The look he gives you is so tender, the love radiating off his body so palpable, that it makes your knees feel week. “Sweet, but I’m the one who’s going to be taking care of you tonight.” You open your mouth to protest, but he tuts, and a feather flies up to shush at your lips. “No, listen. You’re driving me crazy. Every time I turn my head, I see you looking so damn beautiful that my heart stops. Makes me wanna just pull you away and rip that pretty dress off.”

You gasp at his words, a pretty blush dusting your cheeks. “Kei! People are gonna hear you!”

He shrugs, pulling you even closer and swaying your bodies lightly to the music. “Let them,” he says nonchalantly, but the glint in his eye is pure sin. He leans down so that his lips brush against the shell of your ear. You can’t help the shudder that wracks through your body as his warm breath hits your skin. “You’re so cute when you’re blushing like that. Did I make you flustered, baby?” His fingers release yours, instead gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Answer me, love.”

You nod, feeling small. Only Keigo can affect you like this, can reduce you to a trembling mess with just a few words.

You love it.

He smirks at your confession, pressing a kiss against your cheek before leaning his forehead against yours. “What do you say we jump ship, babe?” Your confusion must show on your face, because he continues. “I think I might die if I have to wait much longer to get my hands on you. And judging by the way you’re acting… I’d bet good money that you’re already dripping for me.”

“Kei!” You swat at his chest before burying your face in it. He laughs, one of his real, genuine laughs that makes your heart soar, before kissing the crown of your head.

“I don’t see you denying it.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, is my cute little wife flustered?”

Wife. The word sounds so pretty rolling off his lips that you can’t resist retreating from the safety of his chest to press your lips against his. He cups your face with one of his large, rough hands and kisses you back. His wings shift to cover you up before the hand on your waist moves down to pinch at your ass – or, at least, it tries. The layers of your dress obstruct him, and he growls in frustration.

You can’t help but whine as well. You want him all the time, of course. Years of being together haven’t changed how fucking badly you want him all the time. You’d used up all your willpower behaving for the ceremony and the reception so far. You’d been good, had kept your hands to yourself throughout dinner and the toasts. But now, the mix of his body against yours, the dirty words that he’d whispered into your ear, and the cocktails running through your bloodstream were making it very hard for you to ignore the pooling heat between your legs.

You wanted him. You wanted your husband.

“Please,” you whisper. Under normal circumstances, you’d hate how whiny and pathetic you sound, but you’re too far gone to care. “Please, let’s go, Kei. Need you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few whispered words to Rumi, and a knowing smirk from her, and you were gone. It was surprisingly easy to slip out the venue. You’d expected to be stopped by some nosy family member, but it seemed that everyone was too tipsy and having too much fun to care. Nevertheless, you had to be careful once you stepped out into the fresh night air. The number two hero’s wedding was perfect paparazzi bait. You didn’t even want to think about the feeding frenzy that the media would go into if they caught sight of you now.

The night sky was like a shield, though, and it protected you from prying eyes. You’d been discreet when picking the wedding and reception venues, and even more discreet in choosing your honeymoon destination. Tomorrow morning, you and Keigo would fly up to the mountains, where he’d rented a little cabin for the two of you. By some miracle, he’d managed to get a whole week off work – a whole week where you’d have him, entirely to yourself.

But right now, you aren’t thinking about tomorrow morning, or the lovely, peaceful honeymoon that you were about to embark on. Right now, the only thing you can think about is Keigo. Keigo, with his beautifully messy hair that moved like ocean waves as you soared through the air. There’s nothing in this world that you love more than flying with him, pressed against his sturdy body with his strong arms wrapped around you. Light pollution makes it hard to see the sky from the ground, but up here, the moon and stars are breathtaking.

Almost as breathtaking as your husband, who’s eyes are prettier than any stars could ever hope to be.

He looks down and catches you staring, taking him in with your wide, wondrous eyes. You can barely hear anything through the noise-cancelling headphones that he makes you wear whenever you fly, but his words reach you, clear as day – “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Your voice comes out small, stolen away by the rushing wind. You try again, louder this time. “I love you!”

He chuckles, chest shaking as he tries to keep his laughs contained. “You trying to one-up me? I can be loud too.” He takes a deep breath, before tipping his head back and shouting an I love you up into the heavens.

His lips are soft and sweet as candy when they dip down to meet yours. “I’m just so happy,” he whispers against you. “You make me so happy.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The moment that you set foot into the penthouse, you gasp.

“Oh, Kei,” you breathe, hand flying over your mouth.

He bounces nervously as he locks up the balcony door, not meeting your eye. “Do…do you not like it?”

You march up to him and grab his face in your hands, before standing up onto your tip-toes and planting a kiss on his forehead. “I love it, baby. Really, you’ve outdone yourself.”

He perks up at the praise, kissing your lips once before his hands move down and he picks you up, clean off the ground. You can’t hold your shrieking laugh back as he spins you around, a smile lighting up his face like a god damn Christmas tree.

The house is beautiful. Really, he did outdo himself. Back when you’d first started dating, he’d had to call off your six-month-anniversary date because of a mission. You’d assured him that it was fine, that you understood, but you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t upset. He promised that he would be back in a week at the latest. You’d spent the night with your friends, eating ice cream and watching shitty movies, and left for work the next morning. You weren’t expecting him back for a few days at least, but when you opened your door after an exhausting day at work, he was there, waiting for you. Scratches on his face and bandages on his arms, but he was there. And he’d decorated your apartment with flowers and fairy lights, centered around a haphazardly made blanket fort in the center of the living room. Little candles were placed across the room, each with a red feather standing guard, making sure that the flames didn’t accidentally get knocked over and grow. After you’d gotten over your initial shock – how the hell did you get in here, Kei – you ran into his arms and squeezed him, tight. He didn’t let go of you for the entire night – his body always pressed against yours, fingers constantly entwined, even as he made you cum so many times that you forgot your own name.

It was one of your fondest memories, one that always brought a smile to your face. You’d mentioned it offhandedly last week, while you were in the weeds with wedding planning. Honestly, you didn’t think that he’d even heard what you said, with how stressed and busy the two of you were. He was picking up extra patrols to make up for his honeymoon vacation time, and you were working your ass off to get your overbearing boss off your back.

But he had heard. He heard, and he listened, because that’s just the kind of lover – the kind of husband – that Keigo is. Attentive, sweet, and intuitive. You swear, he spoils you beyond belief. You don’t even know when he got the time to decorate the apartment today, but it’s beautiful. Even more beautiful than the decorations from your six-month-anniversary, because this time, the sight is sweetened by the knowledge that this is your shared home. This isn’t just your apartment, that your friends helped sneak him into so he could fancy it up. This is your shared space, where you’ll spend the rest of your lives together. Where you’ll wake up in his arms every morning, his wings wrapped around you protectively, fragmenting the morning light into shards of red. Where you’ll make meals together and laugh at his bad cooking, where you’ll take sanctuary from the harshness of the world. This place is your home. Keigo is your home.

He finally stops spinning, but refuses to set you down. Instead, he readjusts you so that he’s carrying you bridal style. You almost laugh at how cliché it is. It feels like something out of a cheesy rom-com, but you’re so happy that you feel like you’re in one of those rom-coms.

You do laugh out loud when you see the trail of petals leading to your bedroom. Keigo feigns disappointment, dramatically sighing. “Don’t laugh, princess, you wound me.” That just makes you laugh even more, and soon, he’s joining in, burying his face in your hair as he walks the two of you towards the bed. “C’mon, I’m trying to be romantic! Quit making me laugh!”

“I can’t help it,” you giggle as he gently places you onto the bed. Thankfully, he had the common sense to not put any petals on the actual bed, but the floor is absolutely covered. Blossoms line the walls as well, along with candles that bathe the room in their gentle glow. You take a second to admire how beautiful your husband looks in the soft light. The shadows make his wings seem that much bigger as they unfurl to their full size. He looms over you, looking like the most delicious mix of devil and angel that you’ve ever seen. There’s still a playful smile on his face, but something mischievous simmers beneath it.

“Hope you didn’t forget what you said at the reception hall, baby,” he says, eyes glinting. “What was it? Hmm, something like, need you, Kei, need you to take me home and fuck me, I’m already so wet for you.”

You groan and try to bury your face in your hands, but he’s too fast. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, easily wrapping them with just one of his large hands. “You’re making shit up,” you pout. “I only said the first part.”

“So you admit you said it? That you need me?”

“Shut up.”

“Mm, no thanks.”

You groan again, trying to suppress your smile. There are plenty of times that you and Keigo have had “serious” sex, but you mostly find yourself like this, devolving into giggles and teasing. There’s something about him that makes you feel so safe and at ease, and you can’t help yourself from giggling at his stupid remarks. He laughs, and releases your wrists to cradle your face with both his hands. He shifts so that he’s properly on top of you, his thighs on either side of your hips, and bends down to press kisses all over your face.

“My wife,” he breathes, in between kisses. “My sweet, beautiful, amazing wife. This dress is so pretty, but let’s take it off, my love. You don’t need it anymore.”

It takes a few minutes of awkward wriggling and tugging to finally remove the lace monstrosity, but at long last, the dress ends up on the floor. Keigo’s hands are on your body in an instant, fingers trailing over the curve of your waist and snapping the waistband of your panties. “God, you’ve got such pretty little lingerie on.”

“Wanted to dress up for you,” you say, pawing at his tie and trying to loosen the knot. It makes you feel small, to be so exposed while he’s still fully dressed. Normally you love to savor in that feeling, but right now, you need to feel his bare skin against yours. “Now take your clothes off, please.”

You finally manage to loosen his tie enough to pull it over his head. After stopping for another deep kiss, your hands continue their path over his body. His suit jacket comes off next, although he has to help you gently maneuver it off his wings. His cuff links clatter to the ground as you almost viciously rip off his dress shirt, and you moan when you finally feel his warm muscles.

You’re practically grinding into each other by now. Little whines leave your lips as you shamelessly roll your hips, seeking any friction you can get. You can feel his hardness, even through his thick pants, and you chase it with vigor. He’s not much better, a light blush dusting his face as he meets your rolls with shallow thrusts of his own. “Off, off, Kei, need to feel you,” you babble, fingers desperately trying to undo this belt buckle. Breathlessly, he pushes your fingers aside and pulls his belt off, unceremoniously throwing it across the room. You half expect it to collide with a candle and set the entire building on fire, but a few feathers fly out to catch it and gently set it down.

You don’t waste a second in pulling his pants down and throwing them as well, trusting that a feather will keep it from crashing into anything. Your fingers try to pull down the waistband of his boxers, but he tuts and grabs your hand.

You look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please,” you whine.

The smile on his face is gentle beyond belief as he answers. “I told you that I was going to take care of you tonight, baby. Let me make you feel good, okay? Can I make you feel good?”

You want to protest, want to beg him to stuff your face or your cunt and fuck into you until you’re lightheaded, but Keigo’s insistent about making you cum at least twice before even thinking about his own pleasure. And you can’t deny that you’re aching for him. You’re certain that you’ve soaked through your flimsy panties by now, and your mind is hazy with want.

You nod. Keigo takes your face in his hand, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Can you give me your colors too?”

You force your mind to push through the fog, force your heavy lips to move and form words. “G-green for good, yellow for slow down, red for stop.”

“Good girl.” The praise goes straight to your core, and you whine. “Oh, baby, I know I just vowed to give you everything you could ever want, but you’re so damn needy. Be patient for me, okay? Let me touch you.”

You nod obediently, but you can’t fight the urge roll your hips and feel him again. With a soft, scolding noise, he presses one of his hands into your hipbone, effectively pinning you to the mattress. Try as you might, you can’t squirm away. He’s so ridiculously strong, his muscles toned from years of training and hero work, that you’re no match for him. But it’s not so bad. You love the dominance that oozes off his body as he moves down, his hands and tongue exploring every inch of skin that they can find. His teeth nip at the sensitive spot on your neck, the spot that always makes you melt for him. You shamelessly sigh and tilt your head to give him more access.

His right hand, the one that isn’t currently pinning you to the mattress, plays with the lacy edges of your bra. He palms you through the thin fabric, making you groan and arch your back into his touch. It’s not enough, you need more, need to feel more of him before you lose your mind. He seems to read your mind, because he doesn’t even bother to unclasp the bra, electing instead to rip it clean off your body. The snap of the straps breaking makes you gasp, but you revel in the sting of the elastic bouncing back against your skin.

“Couldn’t wait,” he says, not a hint of shame on his face. “You know how much I love to tease, but fuck, I need you now.”

He’s a bit more ceremonious when he removes your panties, choosing to use a hardened feather to slice through the fabric instead of just ripping with brute force. He fucking moans at the sight of you, wet and needy for him. It sounds like absolute heaven, but you don’t have even a second to revel in it before he’s diving into you. The sudden rush of pleasure is electrifying, and you go to instinctively slam your legs shut, but Keigo’s hand is too fast again. His tongue doesn’t falter for even a second as his fingers dig into your thighs and push you open. His lips wrap around your clit and suck, and he’s outrageously loud as he moans into your sex. It’s all so much – he’s licking at you like a man on death row, coaxing little whines and gasps from your lips.

His beautiful eyes are trained on yours, pupils blow out with love and lust. He memorizes every little expression that flits across your beautiful face as he eases a finger into you, eyes only leaving your face to admire the way that your little cunt sucks him in. But he can’t tear his gaze away from you, and the way your mouth falls open, or the way that your eyes flutter and roll back. The way that your hands ball up into fists, alternating between grabbing the bedsheets and lacing through his hair. Fuck, he loves how you pull at his hair when his fingers curl up against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Loves the little curses and gasps of his name that spill past your lips as he scissors and thrusts his digits deeper and deeper into your perfect pussy.

“Cum for me, princess,” he groans. “Please, cum for me, need you to be a good girl and cum for me.”

And, well, you did just vow to give him everything that he could ever want.

You throw your head back and almost sob as you gush all over his face and fingers. He’s insatiable, licking and fingering you all through it, desperately trying to lap up every single drop of your juices. Your body is shaking, and you whimper, the overstimulation building until it’s too much, until you’re crying out too much, Kei, ‘s too much!

“Give me your color, baby,” he says, slowing his assault against your body.

“G-green,” you stutter out, the words as shaky as your legs. “Green, don’t stop, it’s just – ah! Kei!”

Your verbal confirmation was all he needed to dive back in, sucking at you with even more vigor than before. His fingers twist and curl against your spot, and his tongue lashes at your clit. He doesn’t stop for even a second, burying himself in your heat. It’s all you can do to maintain your grip on his hair, tugging at it just the way that he loves. You’re thrust headfirst into your second orgasm of the night, crying out his name and positively sobbing at the onslaught of sensations.

When he finally pulls away, the lower part of his face is soaked with your cum. He makes a show of licking his lips clean, not breaking eye contact with you, no matter how much you blush and squirm. He saves his fingers for you, though. A gentle tap at your lips is all it takes for you to obediently open your mouth and take in his digits. You swirl your tongue around, eyes lidded with the afterglow of your pleasure.

But you’re not finished, are nowhere near finished. You suppose that you are being needy, but how could you not, when your husband looks like an absolute fucking god? The candlelight makes your cum on his face glisten beautifully. You whine and pull him in for a kiss, mashing your lips against his and greedily swiping your tongues together. It’s sinful. You can taste yourself on him, and it makes you shudder, makes you need him that much more.

“Please, please fuck me,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his slim waist and trying to pull him closer, closer, closer. “Please, Kei, need you inside me, need my husband inside me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, so quietly that you would’ve missed it if you didn’t feel the word formed against your lips. “Fuck, baby, okay.” His hand slides between your bodies and quickly pushes his boxers down. He uses a feather to pull them all the way off, because he can’t be bothered to focus on that, not when you’re practically drooling at the sight of his cock.

Your fingers twitch, and you aren’t able to hold back any longer. Your hand finds his cock, marveling at how heavy and perfect he feels as you wrap your fingers around him and guide him towards your sopping cunt. You pause before you slide him in, though, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Can I ride you? Please?”

He curses again under his breath, practically shivering at your words. His strong hands reposition the both of you, until you’re sitting on his thigh and he’s leaning back against the headboard. He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Well, then? Get to work, princess.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at his antics. “What happened to Mr. Let-Me-Take-Care-Of-You?”

“He’ll come out later. If my pretty wife wants to ride me, she gets to ride me.”

You laugh for real this time, but it quickly turns into a moan as you sink yourself down on his length. No matter how many times you take him, he always overwhelms your senses, always stretches you so deliciously. You lean your forehead against his and give yourself a second to adjust, and then you’re rolling your hips, little whines leaving your lips.

“Feels so good, Kei.” You throw your head back, your fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back to anchor yourself. “You always feel so good.”

His eyes are half-lidded and dark as he takes you in. He’s memorizing every inch of your body, every detail and movement that he absolutely fucking adores. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the world,” he whispers, seemingly more to himself than you. “So beautiful. I’m so lucky.”

Your thighs burn, but you force yourself to ignore the pain. You’d rather die than stop right now. His strong arms encircle your waist, and his wings surround your bodies, ruffling with every one of your movements.

You want to ignore your exhaustion, but your husband is perceptive as ever. His hips raise up to meet you, and it sends a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. You’re shaky, though, and you’re getting sloppy.

Before you can even process what’s happening, you’re being spun over and pinned to the mattress. A gasp leaves your lips, and you whine as his cock slips out of you. Your hand reaches out and paws around wildly, searching for him through your haze. Keigo’s quick to kiss you and shush your protests, entwining his rough fingers in your searching hand and stroking his thumb against your palm.

“Relax, angel. Let me take care of it.”

He slides into you again, making you both moan. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, clenching and fluttering around him. He pauses once he bottoms out. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and he presses sweet kisses all over your skin.

You wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze, trying desperately to make him move. “Keigo, baby, please,” you whine, fingers digging into the strong muscles of his back.

He coos, cupping your face and kissing you before he readjusts himself. “Of course, pretty girl.”

His thrusts are deep and hard, so hard that they make the entire bed shake. Your eyes flutter shut, but he grips your jaw and begs you to keep them open – please, baby, look at me, need to see my pretty wife fall apart.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he moans, teeth nipping at your lips. “So perfect, and all mine.”

“All yours,” you agree. You’re practically babbling by this point, unable to stop the noises slipping past your lips. You’re floating on a cloud, soaring through the sky, anchored only by his body against yours. “You’re so deep in me, Kei, can feel you so deep in me. Please, ‘m so close, just a lil’ bit more, Kei.”

He coos again, hand slipping down to toy with your clit. You wail, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as the coil in your stomach snaps and you gush uncontrollably. You can’t do anything but cry out for him, can’t do anything but cling onto him and shake and twitch. The feeling of you clenching around him is too much, and with a broken fuck and a cry of your name, he spills inside of you. He fucks you through it, the obscene sounds of your combined release making you feel lightheaded and weak.

He holds you for a few minutes, just like that, bodies entwined. You both pant and try to catch your breath. The weight of his body on top of yours is comforting, so you protest when he finally pulls out and sits back to admire the way that his seed drips out of you.

“Come back,” you complain. “What kind of husband doesn’t give cuddles to his wife?”

“The kind of husband who needs to clean her up,” he says with a chuckle. “C’mon, let’s go take a bath.

Your body feels boneless with exhaustion and the hazy afterglow of your three orgasms, so you’re grateful when he scoops you into his arms. You tuck your face into his neck and hum contentedly, unable to stop the giddy smile that blooms across your face.

“I love you, Kei,” you say, planting little kisses over his neck and jaw.

“I love you too, princess,” he says, grinning and poking your nose. He laughs when you scrunch it up and scowl at him. But, with how cute he looks, you just can’t hold the scowl for long. Soon, you’re giggling too.

You look up at him with so much love that it makes his heart ache. His eyes grow a bit more serious, and he dips his head to kiss at your swollen lips. “I mean it, baby. I’m so happy to spend the rest of my life with you.”

[xlovelyyoongix]

playing the part | myg

summary: On set, Yoongi was your enemy but off set, he was your secret lover. 18+

prompt: y/n is the star of an action movie and Yoongi is her enemy. While they hate each other in the movie, they genuinely like spending time with each other in real life.

genre: action, angst, smut, fluff

warnings: violence, guns, fist fighting, near-death experience, swearing, unprotected sex (please be safe yall) female receiving, stimulation while being penetrated, creampie, aftercare, and feelings that can’t be said out loud.

w/c: 4k

Rating: 18+

a/n: I was initially going to post this at the very beginning of the year, but I ended up getting sick and testing positive for covid-19. (please don’t worry about me. I’m feeling much better now 😊) But a few of my followers have been asking about me since I haven’t posted in a while, so I figured I’d give everyone a quick update. I’m glad to be back and happy to be working on all of my WIPs I have planned for the month. Please everyone, social distance, wear your masks, and stay safe. Happy reading  💕

"I'm done playing games with you." Your furious words bouncing off the walls of the abandoned warehouse as the weight of your pistol points directly at the male standing in front of you. "Hand over the money, or I'll put a hole in your head," Your finger seconds away from the trigger.

Yoongi chuckles, a cocky smirk stretching across his lips. "You won't shoot me-"

BANG

Before Yoongi ever had the chance of completing his sentence, the melody of your warning shot echoes, causing a vibration of whitenoise to jolt the walls of your inner eardrums. Missing on purpose, the bullet still managed to graze Yoongi’s skin, a thin line of blood trickling down his cheek.

Yoongi snickers at your attempt to frighten him while wiping away the blood that stained his flesh. "Why waste a bullet when you could have easily taken my life?" His words oozing arrogance as his body strutted forward, emptying the gap between the two of you. "Is it because you don't have the strength to kill the man you love?" He taunts wickely, onyx eyes peering into yours.  

With Yoongi being this close in proximity, the muscles in your body begin to tense, jaw clenching tightly as your sweaty hands gripped the handle of your gun. "Shut up!" You shout, not allowing him to use your emotions against you.

Yoongi observes your hesitant behavior, licking his bottom lip enticingly. "How about I make it easier, so you don't miss next time, hm." He sarcastically hums, gripping the barrel of your gun to position the weapon against the flat of his forehead. "I've done the hard part; now, all you have to do is shoot, baby girl." He mocks with the pet name he once called you.  

It was at this intense moment, you begin to regret it all. Accepting a job that required your feminine charm to seduce a drug lord that just so happened to owe your client an uber amount of money. You've done it before, sleeping with the enemy only to assassinate them by morning, so why was Yoongi so different? Why was this so hard?

Was it the luxurious dates? His charming smile? Unworldly sex? You don't really remember, only knowing that somewhere along that line, loving him was no longer pretend. "I said, Shut up!" You shake your head in hopes of ridding your brain of all the useless memories that only made your job harder.

"FUCKIN' DO IT!" Yoongi shouts through clenched teeth as his grip around the barrow of your gun tightens.

Flinching with your eyes shut, your finger pulls the trigger, producing another loud bang that causes your wrist to jerk from the power of the gun. Your heart drops at the sound, and you're afraid to open your eyes, knowing the second you do, your vision will be met with your lover in a pool of his own blood.

"Fuck, you were actually gonna kill me that time, huh?"

The sound of Yoongi’s voice causes your lashes to jolt open, shocked that the man was still alive and well, standing before you. It was then you notice your weapon carrying, hand being pinned above your head. The swift bastard must have trapped you in the second before you pulled the trigger. "I have a job to do, and I won't let feelings get in the way of my mission." You announce proudly, but more so to convince yourself than anything else.

Yoongi clicks his tongue at your response. "Is that so?" Taking advantage of your pinned  position, he stares your body down with an almost hungry eye. Your smooth skin glistening with sweat, large eyes that seemed to out shine the moon, delectable lips slightly parted to breathe, and a leather body suit that hugged every heavenly curve; curves he was once oh so familiar with. But, it was also in that moment Yoongi realized, despite the lustful infatuation that pulled him towards you, he'd be damned if he let anyone take his life. "I'll just have to kill you first then."

Before you could react to Yoongi's threat, his stealthy foot sweeps from under you, knocking you off your balance. Your body collides into the ground, gun sliding across the cold concrete. "Shit!" You eye down the weapon, collecting your balance once again to dart towards the object but Yoongi's headstart nearly beats you to it.

He takes the chance to reach down to grab the pistol -possibly to use it to end your life- but your survival instincts emerge,  causing your body to fling forward, tackling Yoongi like a linebacker on a football field. "Son of a..." He sneers at the weight of your body straddling his waist, fist flying forward to attack his face. Blocking your attacks, Yoongi grows frustrated with how long the altercation has lasted. "Okay, baby girl, this ends now." Grunting, Yoongi  uses his upper body strength to flip you, landing on your back as his heavy body pins you in.

For a short moment, Yoongi takes the time to admire your beauty. Messy hair splattered around your glistening face, chest heaving in attempt to collect your breath and cheeks an exhausted pink. "You're so fuckin beautiful..." But as soon as the soft words left his lips, a hand reached behind his back, removing a silver gun from it’s holster. “Which is why it pains me to do this.” Cocking the weapon, Yoongi presses the hold metal to your temple. "But before you go, say one last thing for me."

You struggled with all your might to wiggle yourself from under Yoongi, but his masculine weight bore you to struggle. You also attempted to reach for your gun, only half an inch away, but it was to no avail. "What?" You question back with a sneer, but not because you actually care -or maybe you do- but more so to buy you some time before your death.

Yoongi snickers, leaning in to ghost his devilish smirk over your swollen lips. "Tell me, it wasn't all fake." His jet eyes begin to soften as the pad of his thumb caresses your cheek. "Tell me, you love me."  

Your heart skips a beat but not because of the adrenaline spiking through your veins, but because even after everything, the fights, the betrayal, his heavy gun pressed to your temple, you still loved him. In an ordinary world, you'd be considered a psychopath for falling for a drug lord, but you didn't live in the real world. You were a hitman, and with your busy schedule and the blood of your enemies permanently staining your psyche, there was no room for traditional romance. You convince yourself that was the reason for your undeniable infatuation towards the blonde-haired male, just a girl yearning to finally feel the warmth of love. "Go fuck yourself." It pains you to say it, but in the end, you'd rather die with pride than with the taste of affection on your tongue.

Yoongi winces at your aggressive words towards him. Despite his rugged exterior, he was capable of feelings, and he did love you. He loved you more than any woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Being in this predicament indeed penetrated his heart so deep, he doubted he'd ever recover. "That's a shame." Regaining his stern demeanor, Yoongi clenches his jaw and positions his index above the trigger. "Goodbye, baby girl." A second away from ending your life, the two of you are interrupted by a loud shout.

"CUT!" The director whistles the alarm, and the once dark warehouse illuminates with bright fluorescent lights, bringing the scene to a complete stop. "That's a wrap for tonight, folks," he calls from behind a row of cameramen. "I want everyone back on set first thing in the morning. We'll be finishing up the final scene of the movie tomorrow" The stage and camera crew breaking out in applause at the work that was completed.

With the scene finally over, Yoongi pulls himself from on top of you, kindly extending his arm to assist you up with an eyeing smirk.

"You're fuckin heavy, you know that?" You harshly joke, taking his hand to accept the offer to help you up.

"That's funny," Yoongi's voice dripped with seduction, using his strength to whisk your body into his chest. His soft lips ghosting over the shell of your ear to whisper, "You weren't complaining about my weight last night-."

"Shhh!" Your hand cups over Yoongi's mouth, shushing him before anyone could witness his handsy flirtation. "You know better than to act like this on set." You arch your brow, matter-a-factly.

Yoongi parts his lips to respond but was interrupted by his makeup team stepping on set. "Mr. Min, let's get you cleaned up and ready to go." Politely placing her hand on Yoongi's back, she guides him along before he could get a chance to say good-bye.

A slight giggle escapes past your lips as you watch Yoongi being dragged offset by his team. Your eyes begin to feel heavy for the need of rest, and your throat produces a yawn. Exhausted, you head towards the direction of your makeup team, ready to escape to the confines of your trailer for the night.

   1:30 in the morning is when you're finally able to leave set and head back to your trailer for the night. Stepping out of the shower and into your silk robe, you examine your body in the fogged mirror, muscles sore from stunts -you swore to your director you didn't need a double for- and bags under your eyes being the evidence of long working hours. You couldn't complain though you loved your job, the excitement, the thrill, everything that came with being an actress, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

A small knock at your trailer door interrupts your thoughts, wondering who it could be at an hour like this. Possibly the director wanting to go over tomorrow's scene? Curious, you peek through the blinds, but not surprised by who you see. A smile slips across your cheeks as you open the door, revealing a handsome blond-haired male standing before you. "I think you're lost." You playfully tease, pointing to the row of luxury trailers in the distance. "Your lodging is that way."  

Yoongi smirks at your sarcastic facade, playing along to entertain your ploy. "No,." He quickly replies, walking up the steps to your trailer until standing directly under you. "I think I'm in the right place." His large hands slip across the silk of your robe, finding their favorite spot on your hips while seductive eyes peak at the curves of your cleavage.

"Is that so?" You question, arching a tempting brow, "So, what is an A-list Actor doing at my trailer so late into the night?" Your fingers trickle to the nape of Yoongi's neck, dancing circles across his ivory skin.

"Well." Yoongi's nose slowly dips across the curve of your neck, getting a tasteful whiff of your natural scent before his pink lips ghost over the shell of your ear. "I came to fuck my co-star."

Yoongi's daring confession causes a vibrating tingle to spike throughout your body, increasing the lustful heat growing between your thighs. Surrendering to the fervor your body craved, your plush lips crash into his, with tongues beginning to dance together in harmony. Lost in the passion, your hand locates Yoongi's collar, pulling him into your trailer, and with a swift kick, he closes the door behind him.

The actor wastes no time shoving you against the counter of your tiny kitchen, large hands fiddling with the lace of your robe. Your silk falls around you, pooling to the floor, unveiling the flawless secrets of your womanly beauty. "Fuck." Yoongi nearly growls at the sight of smooth skin, supple breasts, and voluptuous curves. "I've been waiting for this all day." He could barely finish his sentence before his hungry lips were attacking your neck, teeth nibbling and sucking the flesh while wandering hands located your nipple to tease.  

"Y-Yoongi." You whimper from his touch, body arching off the counter to welcome his ardors actions. "R-remember not to bruise me, okay." If it were up to you, you wouldn't complain about the trademark evidence Yoongi liked to leave throughout your body, but things spread fast in the media. You couldn't risk a 'dating scandal'; in the middle of shooting a major motion picture movie, the press would eat you alive.

"Shit, forgot, sorry." He mutters an apology, loosening his hold on your breast and trailing succulent kisses down your abdomen. "Guess I'll just have to leave hickies where people can't see them." A flash of greedy lust shimmers in Yoongi's eyes the moment he hoists your thigh over his shoulder. His mouth nearly watering at the glorious sight before him. "So fuckin' wet for me already." Teeth sink into his bottom lip enticingly, witnessing your glistening arousal coating over your heated sex. "Makes me wanna taste it." Yoongi's crafty tongue darts out, sliding between wet folds until lapping across a sensitive bundle of nerves that causes your body to weaken.  

"Fuck, Yoon...," You could barely finish your sentence as Yoongi's ambush on your needy clit caused you to fall mute. Your hand gripping onto the actor's shoulder, rolling your hips into his mouth to ride out your delectable pleasure. "M-more,"  

Knowing precisely what you desired, Yoongi slowly inserts two digits deep into your soaking walls. The second he hears your breathy moan,  his fingers curl at just the right angle, locating the spongy surface responsible for your g-spot. "Mhmm," You're a wiggling mess, so Yoongi uses his free hand to hold your hips in place while his mouth sucks up your clitoris once again.    

"Shit~." The delicious stretch of his fingers and stimulation on your nub causes the muscles within your abdomen to tighten. With your body preparing for an orgasm, your fingers move on their own to lock in Yoongi's thick hair, guiding him to where you need most. "B-baby, c-close." Words frantically falling from your trembling lips.  

Taking note of your approaching release, Yoongi stiffens his tongue, lapping figure 8s around your pink nub to send your body into overdrive. His thick fingers thrusting into your walls, producing creamy arousal that dripped onto his knuckles. Yoongi absolutely loved watching you like this, legs wobbling like jello, skin glistening with sweat, pretty lips moaning his name. He took pride in witnessing you being a fucked-out mess. His own personal, fucked-out mess. "Cum, baby."

As if on demand by Yoongi's words, the tightness within your abdomen bursts, body tensing as the magic of euphoria courses through your veins.  "Y-Yoon-, fuck~" Lashes slamming shut as an assortment of circling colors rupture behind your eyelids. Your body rides out it's sinful high only for your body to fall limp moments after.

The evidence of your orgasm drips between your thighs as Yoongi carefully removes his digits from inside you. Standing to his feet, his tongue licks the last of your arousal that lingered on his fingers, always making sure your lovely juice never went to waste. "Fuckin delicious." He smirks devilishly, hungry eyes peering down at your exhausted state.

You can barely catch your breath as your hazed vision attempts to focus on the handsome man before you. His thick brow wickedly arched, jet eyes glowing with ungodly lust as the corner of his lips curls smugly. An expression that only meant Yoongi wanted more. "Ready for my dick now, babygirl?" He's quick to make haste of his shirt, tossing it someplace behind him and stepping out of the thick material of his jeans.    

You gulp anxiously at Yoongi's erotic words, curious eyes trailing down the curves of his abdomen in awe as if you haven't seen his immaculate body 100 times before. "Mhm." You reply with a hum, teeth sinking into your lip while impatiently waiting for the reveal of his sturdy dick.

Yoongi chuckles at your minimalistic response, dropping his boxers to unveil the erect curve of his fat length. Stroking up the base of his impressive dick, leaning into your ear to whisper, "You know I need to hear you say it." His warm breath causes an array of goosebumps to accumulate across your skin, a delightful shiver slithering up your spine. "Tell me what you want."

Having moved between your legs, Yoongi's mushroom tip begins to tease against your folds. "I-I," Your lashes flutter as the heat of desire begins to spiral within you, as if you hadn't already experienced a powerful orgasm a few moments prior. "I want you to..." You mew, Yoongi positioned his tip at the soaking hole of your entrance, knocking you from your train of thought.

He grins smugly at your expression, always taking delight to taunting your body. "Tell me what you want me to do, or I'll stop-"

Knowing better than to keep Yoongi waiting, you nearly shout. "I want you to fuck me, Yoongi!" You sound needy, but that's beyond your worries. Your body wanted him, your aching pussy craving him, and if you had to play the part to get what you wanted, so be it.  

Not giving you a second to breathe, Yoongi's fat tip thrusts into your wet core. "Fuck~" You both curse in unison, you because of the delectable stretch that made your pussy full and Yoongi due to your drenched walls tightening around his girth.

"Mhm, Yoons~." You whimper at the sting of his stretched entrance, but you absolutely love the feeling.  How his dick fits perfectly snug within your walls, the throbbing of protruding veins and his oozing tip teasing at your moist cervix. You often fantasized about staying in this position forever. Having Yoongi live, deep inside you as time passed the both of you by; then again, you're also dying for him to bang your brains out. "Baby, please." You plead for him to start moving inside you.

With your tight pussy finally adjusted to his size, Yoongi's large hand's grip at your hips, beginning an easy pace in and out of your core. "Shit~" His teeth clench, hissing at the heavenly sensation of your narrow walls sucking at his length. "You're so wet and warm. Always taking my dick so well."  

Your lashes begin to flutter at the sensation of Yoongi's fat tip massaging at the area of your g-spot. "All for you~." You purr, scooting as close to the edge of the counter as possible, craving for his inches to reach further inside you. "Please," With brows furrowed together beggingly, eyes screaming for him to go faster.

Observing your desperate expression, Yoongi knew it was time for him to pick up the pace. He grips at your thighs, placing your legs around his waist while positioning his hips at the angle that could explore deeper into your slit. "Ah, shhhhhit." He hissed at the pleasure, hips beginning to snap in and out of your sopping core at an autopilot speed.

Your nails pierce into the flesh of Yoongi's shoulders, holding on as he pounded into you. With your neck lulled back, your head knocks into the shelf with every swift jap he punctures in, but you don't care. Your skin is on fire, and your pretty pussy, utterly addicted to the pleasurable attack. "Feels good," You hum, eyes locking down on the pornographic scene of your creamy slick lubing Yoongi's shaft as his dick pleasantly stretches in and out of your entrance. "Wanna cum all over your pretty dick, Yoon." You plee, lips in the form of a pout.  

Your whimpering need causes a carnal temptation to spike within the actor, producing the adrenaline he needed to please your every desire. "So cum, baby." His veiny hand slipping between your thighs, swiping across your clit while pounding into you.

"Oh, god," You moan—the attack on your sensitive nub precisely what you need to feel the pressure building within your core. "Fuck, baby," Your legs gripping tighter around his waist, encouraging him to keep up the speed that slammed into your cervix.

"So fuckin' wet." A throaty moan escapes Yoongi's lips, your walls sucking tightly around his girth as he fucked into you deeper. He could feel the familiar ball of tension tightening within his core, dick becoming increasingly sensitive upon the approach of his release." y/n," breath staggering in his throat as he grunts your name. "Fuck~, gonna cum soon." Glistening sweat pearling across his creamy skin, with jet eyes glossed with desire.

Your hips rock forward, matching the devilish speeds of Yoongi's thrusts as your eyes lock on him. The ends of his blonde hair paste to his steamy skin, lips, pink and swollen, and dumpling cheeks a rosy fluster. The expression in his glass orbs screamed that he was close. "Me too," you moan with arching feet and toes beginning to curl. "Cum inside,"

"Shiiiiiit," Despret to oblige your request, Yoongi continues his powerful ruts, the erotic sounds of your wet pussy guiding him. He could feel the muscles throughout his body starting to flex along with the anticipating tingle of his ballsack, begging to release its load.  "B-baby I,..." His thrust becomes sloppy, and the tight grip he has on your hips causes his knuckles to whitein.  He would explode any second.  

Even with his body tense, Yoongi doesn't let up the massage on your clit. Only speeding his swift swipes on your throbbing nub, sending spikes of electricity zapping throughout your body. "Y-y-y-Yoon...., g-gonna~," and just like that, an euphoric explosion happens within your core, blasting you into ecstasy. "FUCK!" Your back arches, your head lulls back, and the muscles within your wet walls clench around Yoongi's dick, sucking him in for dear life.

"___, g-gonna..." With one final thrust, Yoongi's pulsing dick shoots warm coats of cum into your core. His throat releases a horse grunt, eyes rolling back, and breath getting caught in his throat ."Hmm," He hums at the peaceful feeling, the pent up stress of a long workday finally vacating his body. "Fuck, you're pussy's so good." He chuckles, eyes fluttering open to witness your sweaty body stretched out across the counter, swollen pussy leaking his creamy cum.

Your exhausted body doesn't stop a smirk from slipping across your flustered cheeks. "You're dick's so good." responding to Yoongi's complement, chest heaving for air.

A gummy grin pulls across Yoongi's lips in observance of you. Your messy hair pooled around your face, skin lushly glossed, and large dewy eyes that expressed your body's satisfaction. You meant the absolute world to Yoongi, and being with you on and off set was the best year of his life. Getting to watch you grow as an actress and putting your best foot forward every day. You were Yoongi's muse, his love. "I'll clean you up." He runs a paper napkin under the warm fouset, placing the dampness across all the places between your thighs he left a mess.

You watch Yoongi in awe with your heart fluttering in your chest. It was clear the growing spark between the two of you was more than just sexual tension. You saw the way he'd sneak cute glances at you on set, how he'd be the first one to make sure you were alright after an intense stunt. You want to confess that you love him, that he meant more to you than just a person to fuck. But, the time wasn't right. The two of you still had a job that needed to be done. "Hey." Your small voice, grabbing Yoongi's attention. Instead of saying, I love you, you say, "Good luck on set tomorrow."

However, Yoongi finds the truth in your soft eyes, making it clear you held the exact same feelings that he harbored to himself for the past year. "Yeah," There wasn't a need for him to say much; he knows that you know the truth of his heart. "Good luck to you too."

date posted: 1/8/2021

[tiedyemillenialbullshit]

Hope is a Heartache

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are a series of missed opportunities, but will that stop you both from being happy?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, sexual situations, swearing, angst, LOTS of angst, fluff

A/N: I’m not sure when I became the kween of angst, but here we are. I think if I wrote smut, I’d die so maybe someday I’ll try that. For now here we are.

Written listening to: Hope is a Heartache by LEON

“How would I ever tell her that? What, that I think she’s the most stunning, hilarious, powerful, brave, most amazing woman I’ve ever met? She’d freak out, I’m like her best friend on the team, Steve.”

“I don’t know pal, but I can’t keep looking at you like this. Every time she walks by you stop breathing.”

Bucky never felt so sick to his stomach as he did when he thought about you and whatshisface. You had been on the team about as long as he had. You were both “freshmen” as Sam loved to joke, together. At first, you annoyed the shit out of him. Always going on about how he needed to try harder at this or move faster at that. Buck always confided in Steve about how much you pissed him off until finally one day Steve snapped. “DUDE. YOU. LOVE. Y/N. If you won’t admit it to me, at least admit it to yourself.”

Bucky remembers telling him exactly where he can shove it before stomping out of the Captain’s office to the gym. He had walked in on you taking some sort of frustration out on a punching bag. You didn’t hear him come in, so he stood in the shadow of the doorway and watched you. You stopped after a few moments to rip your gloves off, fix your ponytail, huff out a swear or four and decide to start punching again sans gloves.

Bucky knew in that instant he didn’t want a different partner on missions. He didn’t want you to want to go on morning runs with anyone else. He didn’t want to trust anyone else besides you.

You remember that day too. You were pissed at him, convinced he was trying to make you look bad because in Steve’s eyes, he could do no wrong. So who cares right? Oh you just wanted to hit him. That’s why you had elected to not place your boxing gloves back on and instead just rely on the tape wrapping your knuckles to not break your skin open.

You heard something behind you, and when you spun around you saw him watching you. At first, this wasn’t startling, the asshole had a serious staring problem, but he wasn’t mad. He was just watching you move. Nothing about his demeanor was menacing like it usually was. It was like Frosty had melted and standing before you was this man.

You decided then that you didn’t anyone else sparing with you in the gym, you didn’t want anyone else giving you a hard time because you couldn’t chug a beer as fast as Thor, and you didn’t want him to want anyone else as his partner.

It was like something clicked into place that day, a thread between the two of you pulled taught. You couldn’t place the feeling, you never had it before.

“Earth to Bucky. *white noise* Paging James Buchanan Barnes *white noise* Will the tin man please join us in this debriefing-“ Bucky finally recognized Sam was talking to him.

“Sorry, what?” Buck knew he was red in the face, but honestly didn’t care. Not after the sleepless night he had after witnessing you kiss your new boyfriend goodnight.

“We were discussing Wednesday’s mission, Bucky. You good?” Steve had a concerned look on his face for his best friend.

You were staring right back at Bucky as he sternly answered “I’m fine. Couldn’t sleep last night. Kept having a nightmare about some prick invading my space.”

The team exchanged glances, but that just confirmed to you that he did see you kiss Nick. You thought you heard someone shuffling inside quickly after giving your new boyfriend a lingering kiss goodnight. What was his fucking problem?

“I hate it when that happens. Maybe you should just try minding your own business in real life, then you wouldn’t have nightmares about it at night.” You shot back not breaking eye contact.

Bucky stood and left. The team knew better than to try and reason with a pissed off super soldier, so they let him leave the meeting early.

You practically ran out of the meeting as soon as it was concluded.

“What the fuck was that about?” Nat asked as she was following you uninvited into your room. Besides Bucky, she was your closest friend. Your closest friend, and your nosiest friend.

“Bucky saw me kissing Nick last night and took that as a signed permission slip to act like a fucking asshole, I don’t know. He never likes any of the guys I bring around. Honestly, that’s probably why they don’t last.” You really liked Nick, and you weren’t going to let Bucky scare this one off. Which would be a feat, seeing as your best friend was the former Winter Soldier.

“Y/N, do you think he ‘scares’ all of them off because he wishes he was them?” Nat looked at you without giving away too much of her thought process.

“What, like he wants to be my boyfriend? Come ON Nat, this is Bucky. It’s BUCKY. Even if he did have feelings for me, he’d never tell me. Because he’s BUCKY.” You weren’t sure why you were secretly hoping she argued with you about that. You always liked Bucky. But you were a professional, those feelings got pushed down a long, long time ago.

“I don’t know, Steve said-“

“OH. So now Bucky and I are the topic of your pillow talk, Nat? Great! Look, just because it worked out for you and Steve that way doesn’t mean it’ll work out for me and Buck like that.” You shot back.

“WOAH. I was going to say that Steve said he had been off lately, it probably doesn’t have anything to do with you, Y/N.”

“Oh, well, I mean, I knew that. Whatever, okay?” You stumbled. “It’s not going to happen. I’m with Nick and I’m happy for once. Whatever his issue is, he can talk to his therapist about it, I’m done being that too.”

One year later

“Y/N. Hi. Uh, I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Bucky stammers to you as he’s holding the hand of some innocent enough looking blonde.

“You mean in my own kitchen? Funny how that works out. I was just leaving.” You say to him. The thought crosses your mind to introduce yourself to his new play-thing, but that will just make it seem so much more permanent. You hope your self-dismissal makes her feel awkward enough to leave but you know that won’t happen.

After the disaster that was your relationship with Nick ended after 9 months, you swore off men, including Bucky. He had eventually apologized for his behavior during that debriefing and things seemed to go back to normal. You now realize “normal” is just your funny way of saying “compartmentalizing.” Things were okay between you two because you never talked about Nick and he never asked.

After it ended between you two, he didn’t even ask. You chucked it up to him giving you your space. But that was a few months ago, and now you see why he wasn’t asking you about it.

“Night, Y/N.” Bucky calls after you.

“At least one of us seems like we’ll have a goodnight,” you yell back at him as you retreat into the hallway.

You think you hear him mumble something to his date and then you hear footsteps behind you, so you slow your pace a bit.

“What’s your fucking problem? Amanda doesn’t deserve your wrath the first time she comes over.” Bucky hush yells at you.

“The first time?! Buck, our rooms are right next to each other or did you forget that?” You actually yell at him.

“Oh trust me, how could I forget? With all the sex you had for 9 fucking months straight, the sound of you moaning is literally engrained into my mind forever and you KNOW how hard that is to do.” Bucky is screaming at you now.

“FUCK YOU JAMES.” You yell as you turn and walk towards the stairs.

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT,” he screams.

Good. Now no sex for him.

You wait until you get to the stairwell to let loose the tears threatening to spill over. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning the fight. You two had fought so many times in your friendship. The other Avengers knew to just leave two be when you got into these kind of moods.

You and Nick didn’t work out for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one was your relationship with Bucky. He was so protective over you, and a few months ago when that stopped you realized you didn’t miss his protection, you missed how he looked at you. You missed the possibility that there was something there between the two of you. It was clear he had given up, and you hated that. He felt cold and distant. Shortly after that, Nick stopped coming around and you didn’t care.

Just as you sit down to let yourself unleash in between the second and third floors, you hear the first story doors open. You go completely quiet as to not want to alert anyone you were sitting on the stairs crying like a teenager experiencing their first heartbreak.

You think you hear whimpering or what could be shushed crying. You lean over the railing to look down at who it is. Sitting there with his head in his hands is Bucky. You don’t make a noise.

“Fucking collect yourself Barnes, she’s just being a bitch. Deal with her tomorrow.”

You didn’t realize you had that much of an impact on him, you only wanted to ruin his desire to have sex with her.

Satisfied and feeling slightly guilty, you walk back to your room for the night, not caring if he hears you.

Two months later

“Is this seat taken?” You turn to the side and look up to see Bucky looking down at you sheepishly.

“Where’s your hot date? I saved two seats for you and Amanda,” you say back to Bucky, genuinely interested in where his date was. After that awful night, you decided to put forth an effort to make things better with him. No one is kidding themselves that when you have personal stuff going on behind the scenes of work partners, it makes work in the field that much harder.

“Uh, she’s not going to make it,” he says with sad eyes.

“Oh, is she okay?”

“Uh yeah, we’re just not. We broke up this morning. Thanks for saving two seats though, that was nice of you Y/N.” Bucky sits down next to you and you wrap an arm around the back of his chair.

“I’m sorry Buck, I really did like her. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am now,” he looks at you with a slight smile to his face. You hold his gaze for a few seconds longer than normal before ruffling his hair as the DJ comes over the music.

“Ladiesssss and gentlemeeennnn please welcome to the stage…”

“I can’t believe Sam dragged us all to a strip club for his birthday,” you whisper in Bucky’s ear as the music gets louder.

“I know, look at Steve I think he’s about to have a stroke.” You and Bucky share a laugh and for a second, it’s like you’re back in your early days on the team when it seemed like all you two had was each other.

Once the girls found out the Avengers were in their midst, it was game over. If Sam’s goal was to black out tonight, he accomplished that almost immediately. Liquor was free, dances were free, and unsurprisingly the team was having an amazing time. Besides the waitresses and a few dancers, no one came into your circle, and it ended up being a really fun night. You and Bucky were having so much fun, you couldn’t remember the last time you laughed as hard as you were.

You even noticed Bucky turning down a dance or two, redirecting the girl’s attention to Thor, or the much more enthused, Sam. You expected a newly single Buck to want the attention, but he was not having it.

As the night went on, you caught Bucky staring at you, and more and more you held his stare with a curve to your lips that was reserved just for him.

“Coincidentally” the strip club was next to Sam’s favorite bar. The team decided that was the logical next destination, but you were exhausted and it must’ve been showing on your face.

“Hey doll, why don’t you say we Irish exist these assholes and head home? I’m exhausted.”

“Fuck. Yes. PLEASE let’s go!” You exclaimed as if Bucky was reading your mind. You didn’t want to be the one to suggest it, but you were so happy he did.

You both stand in line with the team but disappear behind everyone as they all head in. Bucky throws an arm around your shoulders as you walk down the street.

“You know, I’m kind of glad it’s just us the rest of the night, that was too much togetherness for me,” Bucky says. You’re blushing and you know he means he’s happy to have a friend, but you find your stomach buzzing with the hope he means something else.

“Same here,” you laugh, “what do you want to do? Grab a cab and head home? Movie? Are you spent?”

“For you? Not at all.” He’s got that dumb grin on your face that makes you want to either kiss him or smack him so he stops distracting you.

“What’re you staring at sweetheart?” You realize it’s getting harder to hide your emotions. He just broke up with Amanda, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the atmosphere, but you can’t stop the word vomit.

You stop him on the sidewalk under the streetlight. There’s no one really out on this street.

“Are we ever going to get it right?” Ope, there it is.

“Get what right?” Bucky is looking at you confused and you’re hoping you can somehow telepathically tell him you mean the two of you. Together. Finally.

“Us.”

Bucky just keeps staring at you like he did that day at the gym. Neither of you say anything, he’s got a hand on your upper arm, resting there.

The regret starts to set in. Things were just getting back to a good place between the two of you, and you just ruined it.

“You know, Amanda and I didn’t work out for a few reasons, but the main one being... ugh, shit, the main reason is that she isn’t you, Y/N.” Bucky just spoke the words you’ve wanted to hear the most but it doesn’t register at first.

He must see that either on your face or through your lack of response. You feel him pulling you in, and right before he moves his lips over yours, it hits you like a train. You love him. Your stubborn, angry, beautiful, amazing Bucky.

You kiss him back with an intensity you didn’t know was in you. You break the kiss and start giggling against his mouth.

“What! I’m not that bad of a kisser!” He’s laughing now with you.

“Sorry, sorry, I just can’t believe this is finally happening. And on a secluded street, under a street lamp. Write a romance novel already, Barnes.”

Your lips to God’s ears, a group of people start walking your way. Bucky looks around and pulls you into a small walkway between two apartment buildings.

“Come here, I wasn’t done with you.” He’s kissing you up against the brick wall like a man starved and you don’t care if anyone sees you, you’ve never felt this happy in your life.

“Let’s just do this, you and me. I’m sick of pretending like you aren’t my person,” you say against his lips.

“Y/N, I want nothing else, ever.”

[baepsaesbae]

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.2

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire Hunter!reader, ANGST, mild smut +18, comedy (i tried), fluff in this chapter

Warnings— Oral (m receiving), good ol making out

Word Count— 7.5k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

A/N— Huge shoutout to @dee-ehn for this beautiful banner! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think! Things are starting to get spicy~

You’ve never looked forward to a day of work more than today. Happily making your way to the shop, you found yourself daydreaming about Taehyung. He seemed to be slowly warming up to you throughout the course of yesterday. Maybe he’ll trust you enough to...to what?

Normally you’d automatically kill your targets as soon as you’d earn their trust (but maybe after indulging in some promiscuous activities). But this time around, your mind didn’t go there. You genuinely wanted him to trust you. Why? You had no clue.

You shook the question away. You’ll deal with that problem when you get there. For now, you’ll just take it one step at a time. The first step is officially gaining Taehyung’s trust. 

Humming as you unlocked the front door, you’re unaware of the clouds looming overhead. You prep the store for customers (which you rarely get). The stack of orders had been cut in half thanks to Taehyung’s help. Maybe you could get through all of them together by the end of the day.

Yoongi was right. This alibi was a lot easier and surprisingly, a lot more fun to use. It was more freeing. It gave you the illusion of a normal life. 

  The door chimed.

“Welcome in!” you greeted.

“Good morning, ___,” Taehyung returned your greeting.

“Taehyung! You came!” you beamed.

“I said I would. I always keep my word,” a small smile cracked onto Taehyung’s usually stoic face.

“You think we can finish all of these today?” you waved the orders in his face.

“If you don’t slow me down, definitely,” Taehyung nodded.

“Excuse me? How dare you!” you feigned being upset.

“Oh, I was trying to joke with you. Did I upset you?” Taehyung’s smile disappeared, his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“Oh my gosh, I know! I was playing along with you, silly boy,” you laughed. 

“Ah, now I’m embarrassed. Truth be told, I don’t get out much. I’m sure you can tell,” Taehyung took the orders from you.

“Honestly, me too. I don’t have any friends,” you confessed.

Why was it so easy to talk to Taehyung? Never in a million years would you divulge any personal details, and yet here you were. 

“Really?” Taehyung seemed surprised, “You seem like the type of person to befriend anything that breathes.”

“Are you teasing me again?” you asked as you gathered the flowers for the first bouquet of the day.

“No, I meant it as a compliment. After all, you managed to get me out of my house. That’s an impressive feat,” Taehyung took the flowers from you. 

“Is it? I wouldn’t know. Because apparently I ‘don’t know you’. But thanks, I guess?” you watched him expertly arrange the flowers in a decadent vase.

“Let’s change that then. Let’s see how much we can learn about each other in one day,” Taehyung stopped what he’s doing to look at you. 

There it goes. Your heart skips a beat again. The kindness in his eyes did something to you that you couldn’t explain. You know you have to lie. Everything you tell him has to be a lie. You knew that. And yet.

“Sure, let’s do it. I’ll start. I’m a dog person. I love dogs!” you smiled. 

Ok, that’s not a lie, but it’s also not important. No harm done. 

“Me too! Ok, off to a good start. What’s your favorite breed?” Taehyung asked excitedly.

That was the start of a never ending conversation. You haven’t had a genuine conversation in ages. Granted, it was all surface level topics, but that didn’t make it any less special. Time flew by as each bouquet was completed. It was nightfall before you knew it.

“We did it!” you exclaimed.

All of the orders had been completed. Once again, vases were scattered all around the shop. You sank down and sat against the counter. It had been a long day. 

Taehyung followed suit, sinking down beside you. He was only a few inches away, yet part of you wished he had sat closer.

“Indeed. And we did it together,” Taehyung smiled at you. 

“Thanks, Taehyung,” you extend your hand towards him.

Taehyung formally shakes it. You sat in silence for a few moments.

“I guess you don’t need me to come by anymore, huh? Now that all of the orders have been completed?” Taehyung asked quietly.

“You’re always welcome here,” you paused for a brief moment, “Hey, how well do you think we know each other now?” you scoot closer to him.

“I’d say that you probably know me better than anyone else by now. No one else knows that I tried to play the saxophone. Thank god, I was terrible at it,” he chuckled, also scooting closer to you. 

“I’ll carry that to my grave, I swear. No one else knows that I love kpop. And it better stay that way,” you playfully glared at him.

“I wouldn’t dare do anything to anger you. I don’t think I’d be able to handle your bad side,” Taehyung patted your head.

His soft gesture made you smile. He was so close to you, your knees were practically touching. You lean closer to him. He leans in ever so slowly. Instead of meeting you in the middle, he gently kisses your forehead. His cold lips left a lasting impression. 

“You’re too sweet, ___. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“Why would you hurt me?” you looked at him with doe eyes.

“I can’t really explain. I just...don’t want to see you get hurt,” he stroked your cheek. 

“I don’t think anyone can hurt me while you’re around,” you replied. 

That was a beautiful answer, one that would make any vampire fall prey to your fake innocence. Usually, you’d say anything to make them fall for your clutches. This time, you even had yourself falling for your own lie. You felt safe next to Taehyung, as if you were meant to be by his side.

“Well then, ___, if you’re so sure about that,” he said as he stood up, “Will you go on a date with me?” 

“I would be a fool to say no,” you answered as he helped you up.

You loaded up the cart with the last of the bouquet orders. It was a joyful walk to and from the post office. The night sky was speckled with stars. The air was fresh and crisp. You found yourself skipping alongside Taehyung as he effortlessly pulled the heavy cart.

“May I pick you up for our date tomorrow?” he asked, as you both stood in front of the flower shop. 

“Tomorrow? We’re moving pretty quickly,” you observed.

“I’m sorry, am I being too forward? I can wait, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Taehyung took your hand.

“No! You’re fine, Taehyung. You’re such a sweetheart. I’m joking, silly. Yes, tomorrow is perfect. It’s supposed to still be all rainy and gross right?” you laced your fingers between his.

“Yes, it’s like that practically year round here. That’s why I like this place. Can I have your address?” 

“Of course, I can text it to you.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Dude, what? It’s the 21st century.”

“I don’t like technology. I suppose you can call me old fashioned.”

“You must be. Old man,” you chuckled as you wrote down your address on a piece of paper. 

“I’m not that old,” Taehyung said defensively.

“Oh, c’mon. I guess a couple hundred years isn’t that old,” you say. 

“W-what?” Taehyung’s eyes widened.

“Joking! Taehyung, you’re too uptight,” you playfully nudged him. 

“Ah, aha ha yes. Good one,” Taehyung forced a nervous laugh. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, goodnight!” you say.

“Goodnight, ___. I’ll see you on the morrow,” Taehyung bowed. 

You’re still ecstatic by the time you get back to the cottage. You’re going on a date! A real life date! I mean, sure, it’s with the person you’re supposed to assassinate, but that part can wait. You haven’t been on a date since...well never. You’d grown accustomed to charming but empty flirtations and one night stands. This time, it actually felt genuine. 

Part of you is beyond excited at the prospect of a real date, but a different part of you is begging you to stop. That part of you wants you to get this over with as soon as possible. Getting too connected with your target will only cause problems later on, you know that. 

‘I can let myself have a little fun. I deserve that much,’ you try to tell yourself. 

A phone call interrupted your thoughts. 

“Hello?” you answered.

“How’d it go? Did you kill him yet? Why haven’t you called?” Yoongi immediately bombarded you with questions. 

“Yoongi, slow down. Today was fine. No, I haven’t killed him yet. I just got back. Also, check in calls are to be made BY the hunter once or twice a week. I’ve talked to you two days in a row this week,” you say, audibly annoyed.

“This mission is different. Your target is extremely dangerous. Do you want me to send in reinforcements?”

“No, I can handle this on my own. I think it’ll take some time to gain Taehyung’s trust.”

“Who?”

“Taehyung. My target’s name.”

“You know that probably a fake name, right?”

“I know, I know. I’m just giving you a heads up that I may be here a while,” you sighed.

Honestly, you felt certain that his real name was Kim Taehyung. You felt certain that everything he’s told you so far is the truth. You’d acquired the useful skill of correctly sensing when someone was lying (many many years of training), but you saw no such signs with Taehyung.

“I appreciate that, I guess. Call me with every update. When are you seeing the target again? Why didn’t you kill him today?” Yoongi pressed more questions.

“I don’t know when I’m seeing him next. We finished all of the orders today, but I told him he’s always welcome in the shop. I’ll be waiting on him to pop by,” you lied, “I couldn’t kill him today because he still never let his guard down,” another lie.

“This guy sounds tricky as hell. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to seduce you yet. Or is there something you’re not telling me?” Yoongi’s voice raised with suspicion.

“No, this guy is incredibly aloof for a vampire. It’s gonna be a challenge to get him to trust me, but I can do it,” you reassured him.

“Alright. I’ll believe you for now. Don’t hesitate to call. Bye,” Yoongi hung up.

He must really be worried. He never says ‘bye’. He usually just abruptly hangs up. 

You couldn��t bring yourself to tell Yoongi the truth. He would have admonished you for not finishing the job quickly. Suddenly, you began to second guess yourself. Should you go on a date with him? Maybe you should just surprise attack him as soon as he knocks on your door. 

You shook your head. This was stupid. Yoongi was stupid for making you worry. You have everything under control. You might as well enjoy the job while you can. The most important thing to remember is to NOT catch feelings, and you know that. You won’t. You can’t afford to.

You slept in the next morning. Since all the orders had been completed, there was no need to visit the shop. You naturally woke up when the sunlight shone through the blinds, slightly illuminating the room. 

Sitting at your breakfast table with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other, you realized that Taehyung never told you when he’d come pick you up. You’d normally assume that he’d pick you up in the evening, but you never know with Taehyung.

You hop into the shower after eating. Getting ready early never hurt anyone. You skim through your closet after you finish showering. You’ve never worn anything cute for a date before. Technically, you could call all your clubbing and partying outfits ‘cute’, but that’s more of a promiscuous cute, not a first date cute.

You try out a style that you’ve always wanted to wear, but never had the opportunity to. You pair an oversized sweater with a simple but flowy skirt. After applying some light makeup, you genuinely felt cute. You twirled in front of your mirror. 

It was early afternoon by the time you finished getting ready. As if by magic, there was a knock on the door as soon as you put on your last accessory. 

‘Hi Taehyung!” you greeted him.

“Good day, ___,” he politely greeted back.

The early morning sun retreated behind dark clouds by the time the afternoon came by. Taehyung held an umbrella over his head as he stood on your doorstep.

“Come in! I just finished getting ready. I actually had no idea what time you’d arrive,” you ushered him in.

“I realized I never told you by the time I got back to my house. I felt so foolish,” Taehyung blushed, “But it seems like I had the perfect timing.”

“Mhm, we must be connected by fate or something,” you giggled. 

“Do you believe in fate?” Taehyung asked, awkwardly standing just inside the threshold of your cottage. 

“Sure, I guess. Life is more fun when you believe in things like that,” you replied, taking his hand to lead him into the living room, “Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you. What do you mean by ‘things like that’?” Taehyung asked after sitting down. 

“Things like fate? Uh, I guess other supernatural things? Would that fall in the supernatural category?” you didn’t know how to answer.

“Most people think of demons or ghosts when they hear the word ‘supernatural’,” Taehyung answered.

“Ok, then maybe it’s some sort of omnipresent power. Who knows. Either way, life is easier if you believe in more things than the shit you can see,” you shrugged.

“Do you believe in supernatural things too?” he asked quietly.

“Like demons or ghosts?” you sat down beside him.

“Sure. Maybe even monsters too. Like werewolves or vampires,” he cast his gaze to the floor. 

“Werewolves or vampires? I don’t think those exist, silly. Or if they do, I’ve never met one,” you laugh.

What was he trying to do? Vampires never expose their true identities until their prey is on death’s doorstep. Is he about to attack?

Your body clenches up. You’re unarmed at the moment. The closest weapon to you is in your room, which is more than 15 feet away. If he attacks you right now, you’re dead. How could you be so stupid? You can’t believe that you let your guard down. 

“Hopefully you never meet one then, if they do exist. I’m sure they’re quite scary,” Taehyung nodded, interrupting your thoughts, “I wanted to take you on a picnic, but the storm outside says otherwise. I brought the food too. Would you like to eat it here?”

“A picnic? Aw, that would have been so cute. Sure, we can eat here. Do you wanna watch a movie while we eat?”

“We can watch a movie after we eat, if that’s okay with you. Again, I’m kind of old school, I guess. I apologize for not being able to take you on a proper date,” he frowned.

You set up your breakfast table as Taehyung retrieved the food. He came back with a stereotypical wicker basket. God, a picnic date would have put you over the moon.

“I made hamburgers. I brought the add ons since I don’t know what you like on them,” he brought out the food, “I also brought fruit and a bottle of wine. Do you drink?”

“I drink occasionally. This all looks incredible. You cook?” you gawked at all the food.

“Occasionally. I grew these fruits myself,” Taehyung looked rather proud of himself as he showed off his strawberries.

He picked one and brought it up to your face to let you examine it. It was a rather small strawberry, but it was as red as a cardinal. You reach forward to bite it, your lips grazing Taehyung’s fingers.

Taehyung let out a small gasp of surprise at your intimate gesture. Whether you were flirting or just being adorable, he couldn’t decipher. He hasn’t felt anything for anyone in centuries. Of every human he has encountered, you were by far the most intriguing.

“This is the sweetest strawberry I’ve ever had!” you cheered as your face contorted when the sugariness set in.

Taehyung laughed at you as he ate one himself, “I’m happy you like them. Please, help yourself to as many as you’d like. Eating them all by myself has been quite lonely.”

The table was finally set, and the meal was laid out beautifully. Taehyung reached out for hamburger buns when you smacked his hand away.

“Did I forget something--” he started to question.

“Phone eats first,” you explained, whipping out your phone to take pictures.

Once you were satisfied with your food photoshoot, you gestured for Taehyung to take his food. He shook his head disapprovingly at you but silently began making his burger. 

The medium rare patty was juicy (just the way you like it), and the vegetables tasted as if they had just been picked that morning. Taehyung watched you as you ate, hoping his food was enough to please you.

“How is it? Is everything to your liking? Is the meat too raw?” he asked in a rapid fire succession when he could no longer contain himself.

“Taehyung, this is honestly the best meal I’ve ever had. Everything seems so fresh! And the meat???” you pantomimed a chef’s kiss.

“Thank goodness,” Taehyung let out a long exhale as a wave of relief washed over him, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Maybe later,” you replied as you made your second burger.

“Okay. Just know that this pairs exquisitely with the burgers,” Taehyung said, already making his fourth one.

“Wine and burgers? That’s an odd pairing,” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“How would you know? You haven’t even tried it yet,” Taehyung scoffed.

Was he teasing you? Joking around with him felt so natural. You could get used to every meal being like this.

‘Wait. No. Don’t be so naive’, you scolded yourself.

“Ok fine! Pour me a glass so I can see for myself,” you rolled your eyes.

“I really only asked because I wanted to open the bottle already,” Taehyung grinned. 

With a now empty bottle and full stomachs, the two of you happily conversed across the table. Your laughs were genuine whenever Taehyung said something outlandish (which he often did). His gaze on you was nothing but fond as he examined your delicate features. Everything about you was alluring, and he could not figure out why.

“Let’s watch a movie,” you suggested, already getting out of your seat.

“We can watch whatever you want,” Taehyung smiled as you took him by the hand to lead him to the couch.

“We can scroll through Netflix to see what they have. You cold?” you asked.

“Technically I’m always cold,” Taehyung answers quickly, but then rushes to add, “Because it’s always a little chilly here.”

“Sure, okay. Well, I’m cold so I’m gonna use this blanket,” you dropped down beside him.

Taehyung awkwardly shifted to give you more room. You scooted even closer to him. Again, he tried to scoot away to give you some space.

“Taehyung.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to cuddle with me under the blanket? Body warmth goes a long way,” you offered bluntly.

“I...would that be okay with you?” Taehyung shyly glanced at you.

“I asked, so yes of course it would be okay, silly,” you threw the blanket over him.

You snuggled up beside him as you scrolled through Netflix. At first, Taehyung was extremely tense. Over time, you felt him begin to relax, and he even began to lean into you. Eventually, you got him to wrap his arm around you. You could feel the coolness of his skin even through his sweater, but that’s to be expected. In all honesty, you forgot what he was for a little bit. 

Now would be the perfect time to end it all. He has let his guard down, his eyes glued to the TV screen. You glanced at him, admiring his side profile. There was no way a mere human could look that handsome. His lips moved slightly as he read the movie titles to himself. He realized you were watching him, and returned your gaze.

“Can I help you, ___?” he asked quietly.

“Possibly, if you’d like,” you whispered back.

“I would help you with anything, my dear ___,” Taehyung replied.

“Kiss me?” you say just inches away from his lips.

Taehyung obliged, bringing his hand to your cheek to guide you to him. His icy thumb trailed along your cheek down to your lips. You hesitated, looking at him with doe eyes. Not once have you ever felt nervous about kissing someone. It never mattered. But here, with him, everything was different. 

Taehyung leaned in, pressing his plush lips against yours. You embraced the coolness of his lips as it somehow felt refreshing. You finally dove in headfirst, greeting his gentle kiss with your own. Soon, the gentleness became harsher as you kissed him deeper.

Now straddling his lap, the prospect of movie watching had been forgotten. The blanket was tossed aside as Taehyung’s hands began to roam across your back. 

Your tongues intertwined wherever they met, be it in his mouth or yours. You pulled back slightly so you could remove your shirt before Taehyung stopped you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, will you let me kiss those lips that I have foolishly been missing for all my life?” Taehyung softly requested, running his hand through your hair.

There was nothing you could say to express what you felt in that moment. Never before has anyone wooed you like this. You granted his request by pulling him into you. Every act of intimacy felt so personal. Almost as if there was a real connection.

After more kissing, you sank back to lay beside Taehyung. This time, you sprawled out on the couch and rested your head on his lap. Taehyung smiled down at you as he stroked your hair. 

“On a scale of 1-10, how was this date?” he asked.

“Solid 9.”

“Why not a 10?”

“You didn’t want to see me with my shirt off.”

“What! It’s not like I don’t want to! Pardon my vulgarity, but I want to see you with everything off.”

“Then why didn’t you let me strip?” you were genuinely curious.

“I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” he started twirling your hair between his fingers. 

“I was obviously wanting to take my shirt off,” you giggled. He starts to open his mouth to reply but you cut him off, “But thank you. I really appreciate that, Taehyung. You really are such a gentleman.”

“I try to be, anyway,” he said.

“What do you want to do for our next date?” you inquire.

“Next date? Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?” Taehyung teased you, “Would you like to take a walk around my estate?”

“You’re taking me on a walk? Am I a dog to you?” you feign being offended, but now Taehyung understands when you’re being playful.

“If you were a dog you’d be a cute little pomeranian. Adorable and tiny. All bark and no bite,” Taehyung boops your nose.

“If you were a dog you’d be a chihuahua. Annoying,” you quickly retorted.

“Not true. I feel like I’m more dignified, like a Great Dane or a Doberman,” Taehyung shook his head.

“Sure thing, silly. A walk actually sounds relaxing. As long as you can promise me that it won’t be raining, I’d love to go on a walk with you,” you finally answered him. 

“The storm should clear up in three days. Can I come pick you up then?”

“I can drive myself.”

“But I want to pick you up.”

“Why?”

“To be chivalrous. But also so that I can see you sooner,” Taehyung looked away in embarrassment.

“Aw, are you gonna miss me?” you teased.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Taehyung teased back.

You repositioned yourself back to straddling his lap. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him like a koala. He chuckled and hugged you back as he thought about how adorable you were.

This seemingly innocent gesture had not so innocent motives. You began to rub yourself against his groin. Your panties were beginning to soak under your skirt. Taehyung didn’t protest. Instead, you heard him breathing in deeply as you rubbed against him harder.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in a tone you haven’t heard before.

“Giving you a reason to miss me,” you answered.

Your hand snaked between your thighs to tease his clothed erection. He sighed as you took hold of him. You felt him up through his pants, and you pleasantly figured out that he’s well endowed. Just the thought of him fucking you with his huge cock made your mouth water. 

“Can I make you feel good?” you seductively whispered into his ear.

“You can do whatever you want with me, I’m all yours,” he replied.

You get off, and kneel before him. You asked him to remove his pants and underwear as you tied up your hair. He obediently followed your request. 

Your eyes widened as his cock was revealed. Just like you thought, its impressive length was matched by its delectable girth. It even curved down slightly, which for some reason turned you on even more. 

You pumped him slowly as you admired his dick. Soon, you began to tease him by swirling your tongue around his tip. Taehyung groaned and clutched your ponytail. You looked up at him to see that his eyes were shut and his mouth was wide open.

You licked up his length while you fondled his balls. Taehyung tightened his grip on your ponytail, urging you to stop teasing him. Finally, you wrapped your lips around him as you began to suck him off. The wet sounds echoed around the room. You started your pace off slowly, but gradually picked up. Your hands followed your lips as you bounced up and down. You gagged every time he hit the back of your throat. Feeling the walls of your throat spasm around him caused Taehyung to moan even louder. Tears welled in your eyes as he held himself inside your mouth longer.

In an attempt to let yourself breathe, you went back to swirling around his tip. His dick was now covered in your saliva, so you firmly pumped him while you worked on his tip.

“K-keep going. Just like that. I’m gonna--” Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence before cumming in your mouth. 

His cum was surprisingly hot as it exploded into your mouth and dribbled down your chin. 

“How was that?” you asked as you wiped away his cum with the back of your hand.

Taehyung was slouching against the couch, still panting. He pulled you back onto his lap before answering, “I had a reason to miss you before, but now I’ll miss you even more.”

“Oh? What was your reasoning before?” you cooed.

“I believe I have formulated a crush on you,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Damn, that sucks,” you shrugged, “Sucks that I have a crush on you too.”

“___,” Taehyung said softly.

“Yes?” you gazed up at him.

“Will you be my girlfriend? I know we haven’t known each other long but--”

“Yes. I’d be honored to be your girlfriend,” you embraced him, “You still wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure, my darling. Let’s do that,” Taehyung squeezed you, almost a little too tight, but you didn’t mind.

“Moana!” you exclaimed as you stumbled upon it.

“Isn’t this a children’s movie?” Taehyung said in protest.

“Yes. It’s also great. Judging by your reaction, you’ve never seen it before so we’re gonna change that,” you clicked on the movie and instantly threw away the remote.

The rest of the day was spent watching Moana. Taehyung was amused by how you knew each song and sang along with the movie. He wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed the movie. It was beautifully animated and he appreciated the deep meanings behind it.

You walked Taehyung to the door after the movie ended. He tenderly kissed your cheek as you hugged him goodbye.

“So, I’ll come pick you up in three days time?” Taehyung wanted to clarify.

“No, I’m driving myself over to your place,” you stood your ground.

“As you like,” Taehyung pouted. He’s never done that before. Seeing his cute little puppy eyes almost made you change your mind. You ushered him out before you could do so.

You watched him drive into the distance as the rain poured. It had been storming all day. You couldn’t contain how giddy Taehyung made you feel. You had a boyfriend! Your very first boyfriend, and he was practically a god.

Well, he was a vampire. That you were sent to exterminate. 

Your heart deflated at the thought. How could you be so stupid? You got so caught up in the act that you actually let yourself get carried away. 

However, this didn’t feel like an act anymore. If anything, Taehyung knows more about you than anyone else in the world. 

What if...you just never went back to the VEC? Maybe you could convince Taehyung to run away with you. 

No, that would be impossible. The VEC had eyes everywhere, and were capable of anything. For the first time in your life, you didn’t want to kill someone. Your perpetual anger at the world dispelled itself whenever you were with Taehyung. 

Instead of calling Yoongi, you decided to text him.

[7:36pm] Still alive. This job is gonna be a long one, but I got it handled. I won’t reach out again until the job is done.

[7:36pm from Yoongles] K

Perfect. That should keep Yoongi off of your ass for a while. At least a month. 

The days that you didn’t see Taehyung felt like an eternity. You went to the shop to keep up appearances, but just watched anime on your laptop the whole time. 

The elderly couple from before showed up at the shop again. You contently watched them admire the flowers as they walked hand in hand. They brought up the same arrangement of flowers as last time. 

“You look different today, dear,” the woman observed.

“Oh yeah? How so, ma’am?” you smiled politely.

“Oh, you’re right dear! She seems happier somehow, the air about her is lighter,” the man nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps now she’s in love. At the very least, there’s someone she’s thinking about right now. Good for you dear! I hope it all works out,” the woman patted your hand as you handed the flowers back over to her. You simply laughed with them as they exited the shop, but your smile dropped as soon as they were out of sight. Their words resonated with you. You’re not in love. That’s absurd. However, you can't deny your fat crush on Taehyung. It’ll subside once you dispose of him. At least, that’s what you think to reassure yourself. 

The day of your second date with Taehyung had arrived. It was weird not being able to text or call him. All your previous assignments that took more time loved sexting you. Taehyung was by far your most peculiar case.

The rainfall had finally subsided as you drove over to Taehyung’s estate. The jewelry you wore was crafted to hold small amounts of holy water, perfect for poisoning a vampire’s food. You dabbled in the art of poison in your free time, and managed to develop a toxin that would instantly immobilize even the strongest of vampires. You kept a vial of that on you at all times. You even equipped your best dagger, hiding it within your clothing.

You took a deep breath as you pulled up to the driveway. Today could be the day. If he gave you an opening, you had to take it. You couldn’t keep lying to yourself. 

‘He doesn’t care about you. He only wants to feed on you,’ You repeated those accusatory thoughts to yourself in the hopes of actually believing in them. 

Taehyung was waiting for you, sitting on the ledge of the rundown fountain. He happily waved at you as you walked up to greet him. 

“___! How are you? How was the drive?” Taehyung kissed your cheeks as soon as you were within reach.

“I’m doing well, how have you been? The drive was uneventful, but I’m sure you’re used to that driving around here,” you giggled at his friendliness.

Taehyung was as stoic as a statue when you first met him. Now, he was a sweet talkative guy with boyish charms. 

“It’s quiet around here. But that’s why I like it. Shall we begin our walk? There are so many things I want to show you!” Taehyung took your hand and tugged you along.

Weaving his icy fingers with yours, you struggled to keep up with his pace. 

“Taehyung! Slow down, we have all day,” you cried out.

“Sorry, my darling. I just haven’t been this excited in a very long time,” Taehyung apologized.

“How long?” you poked.

“Centuries,” he smiled. You knew he wasn’t lying. You giggled to play along with his joke. 

His estate had vast grounds. At first glance, it seemed like the property was overgrown, but you realized you were wrong the further away you ventured. 

Taehyung was following a small trail that looked like it had been worn out through the years. The treeline got thicker as you guys walked along, progressively turning into a forest. Taehyung was talking the whole time. He was spouting facts and stories about the various plants you stumbled across.

‘So it’s not just flowers. He just really loves nature,’ you thought to yourself. 

“Am I boring you? You haven’t said a thing,” Taehyung looked back at you.

“Not at all! I’m learning a lot. I’m intently listening to you, I promise,” you hold out a pinky to him. Taehyung wraps his pinky around yours and continues to lead you down the trail.

“Oh! This is my lake. Do you like to fish?” Taehyung asked as you entered a small clearing.

A dock jutted off of the shoreline of an expansive lake. The lake went on as far as the eye can see. You could barely make out the treeline on the other side. 

“This is your lake? You own the entire thing?” you asked in amazement. 

“It’s all within my property lines, so yes,” Taehyung nodded, “Do you like fishing, dear?”

“Fishing is okay I guess. I prefer to eat the fish,” you answered, “Maybe we could kayak or something here?”

“Noted. I have a small rowboat we can take out to the middle sometime. You can take a nap while I fish,” Taehyung jokes. 

“Sounds like a fine date to me,” you replied.

“Okay! Moving on,” Taehyung (with your pinky still intertwined with his) spun you around and led you back to the trail. 

Next, he led you to his garden. He pointed out his strawberry patch, letting you pick the ripest one. He proudly showed you his vegetables too, ranging from lettuce to cucumbers.

“You have such a great green thumb! Every plant I try to raise dies instantly. Even cacti,” you sighed glumly.

“Aw, it’s okay dear. Perhaps you can help me tend to my garden sometime,” Taehyung pecked your cheek.

“Sounds like another fine date,” you returned his kiss with one of your own.

Taehyung explained that the trail goes around his property in a small loop. He had much more land, however he didn't use it for anything. He explained that he values his privacy, but didn’t expound on it. You already knew the reason why anyway. 

The treeline began to thin out. Soon, you were traversing through a field of tall ferns. Silently walking through the field, you noticed a patch of ferns that had been crushed, almost as if someone sat on them.

Your heart sank. You stopped in your tracks. Your observant eyes saw subtle dark brown spots that littered the patch of squished ferns. This must have been where your parents were found. 

You’d been denying the truth this entire trip. Taehyung really had murdered your parents. The proof was right there. He was nothing more than a vampire. A cold blooded killer with only one motive. It was suddenly getting hard to breathe.

“___? ___?” Taehyung shook your shoulder, snapping you back to reality, “Are you okay? You suddenly stopped walking and spaced out.”

“I’m good! Sorry, I thought I saw something,” you reassured him.

“What did you see?” he asked.

“I thought I saw a rabbit. Then my thoughts wandered to rabbits and I guess I got caught up in it,” you lied. 

“Ah, I understand. I do that all the time,” Taehyung patted your head.

All the warm feelings you had towards him were gone. They were replaced by anger and hatred, the feelings you should have had the whole time. You were going to kill him today. He just needed to put himself in a vulnerable position.

“We’re almost back to the house. Would you like some tea?” Taehyung offered.

“That would be perfect,” you smiled. Perfect indeed. All you had to do was slip in some holy water. His mouth will burn upon impact, giving you the perfect opportunity to swoop in for the kill. 

He led you into his house through the back door. The interior was surprisingly modern with a sleek minimalist style. Despite the exterior looking like it was from the Victorian era, the inside was furnished with simple black furniture to compliment the light grey walls.

“It’s not much,” Taehyung said when he noticed you looking around, “I live alone so there’s no need to make this place feel inviting. Well, at least there was no need.” 

You faked a smile at his comment. 

“Make yourself at home, dear. The dining table is over there. I'll bring the tea when it’s ready,” Taehyung planted a soft kiss against your forehead.

A shiver ran down your spine. The once sweet gesture now felt like a threat. Your leg bounced uncontrollably as you waited for Taehyung to join you. Now is the time. It’s now or never.

He placed an ornate teacup atop a fancy saucer in front of you. You graciously accepted it. 

“This is my favorite flavor, I hope you like it,” Taehyung said as he lifted his cup to you.

You mimicked his action, clinking your cups. Bringing the cup to your lips, you take your first sip. It was sweeter than expected, but the flavor was pleasant overall. 

“Can you guess what flavor it is?” Taehyung asked.

“Something fruity...blackberry?” you answered.

“Close! It’s raspberry. Raspberries tend to be less tart than blackberries,” he explained, “Oh! I have the perfect cake to pair with this too! I’m a bit of a foodie if you hadn’t noticed.”

“All that walking made me hungry so that sounds great,” you replied.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he smiled before departing. 

His drink was left unattended, giving you the opportunity to tamper with it. You debated whether you should put in holy water or your special poison. You decide to go with the holy water, that way you can still talk to him after you restrain him. With a quick push of a hidden button on your ring, a few droplets of holy water fell into Taehyung’s tea. 

Taehyung returned with a small lemon cake, placing it between the saucers. He cut you a slice before serving himself. Eagerly waiting for you to take the first bite, he looked pleased when a smile crept on your face. 

“This is delicious! Where’d you buy it?” you asked.

“I made it myself! I finally perfected it after a bunch of trial and error,” he beamed as he began to eat his slice.

“Let’s toast to this occasion, to celebrate the beginning of a new relationship,” you held out your cup. You’re ready to pounce as soon as he takes a sip. The concealed weapon hidden in your sleeve was prepped and ready to spring out as soon as you attacked.

“A toast to this momentous occasion,” Taehyung held his cup out. It’s nearly time. He paused for a second.

“Can I say something first?” Taehyung lowered his cup.

“Of course, is something wrong?” you tried to conceal the panic in your voice. Had he finally caught on? Your body tensed up as you prepared for a fight.

“Nothing is wrong, dear. I just...I want to get something off my chest,” he took a deep breath, “I had been extremely bored with life for God knows how long. I value my security and seclusion for personal reasons, however I never craved for interactions with anyone. I’ve preferred to be alone for the longest time. Mostly because I don’t want to cause problems for anyone anymore. The last time I interacted with people it ended rather poorly.”

You set your cup down to listen to him, fully engaged in his speech while still being on high alert.

“Everything changed when I met you. I can’t explain it. Normally I would have shooed you away, but something about you made me want to help you. Maybe my interest in flowers got the better of me, who knows? Then, I had the pleasure of getting to know you more when I made the bouquets with you. I can’t tell you the last time I had a genuine conversation with someone. Everything feels so natural with you. I want you to know that I will never hurt you. I will never lie to you. I despise lies above all else. Lastly, I wanted to thank you. Thank you for taking the wrong turn and stumbling into my life. I’m excited to start a new chapter with you, ___.”

You were speechless. Not one word of his was laced with magic. His speech was pure and genuine. How can someone this thoughtful be capable of murdering your parents?

“What happened to the people you last interacted with?” you questioned.

Taehyung flinched at your response. Out of all the things he said, that’s what you chose to respond to? Taehyung shook his apprehension away and chalked it up to your curiosity.

“Many years ago I lost someone I was very fond of. I suppose I never wanted to go through that pain ever again,” he answered solemnly. That’s not what you meant to ask. You were intrigued but needed answers to more pressing matters first.

“So you’ve never interacted with anyone since then?” you pressed the issue.

“Well I had some nuisances bothering me somewhat recently but I don’t think that is important,” Taehyung averted his gaze from you.

“Nuisances? How so?” you expertly concealed your growing rage. 

“They wouldn’t leave me alone after I politely asked them to vacate my property,” he curtly answered.

“Why were they here?” you prodded.

“Does that matter?” Taehyung’s voice rose, causing you to shrink into your chair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we’re together now. We can take on the world together, you and me. I want to give you the world, darling,” Taehyung quickly apologized after seeing that he startled you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You really are the best gentleman I have ever met. Thanks for loving flowers so much that you ended up talking to me, I guess,” you smiled politely as you lifted your cup.

Now you were conflicted. Surely there was more to the story between him and your parents. You needed answers. Taehyung doesn’t seem to be violent at all. His kindhearted nature made it hard to believe that he was capable of such atrocities. 

“Cheers, darling,” Taehyung clinked your cup.

You watched intently as he brought his cup to his lips. His movements seemed to be happening in slow motion, torturing you. 

“Wait!” you cried out, “Let’s switch cups. For good luck.”

“Huh?” Taehyung lowered his cup in confusion.

“I used to do that with my parents. We’d switch cups at the last minute for good luck,” you lied. Hopefully Taehyung would buy into it.

“Sure. What an interesting notion,” Taehyung observed as he switched cups with you.

“The key is doing it last minute, that way luck won’t escape you,” you admonished yourself for such a shitty explanation. 

“That makes sense,” Taehyung nodded thoughtfully. Thank god he’s a bit odd. 

You drank the cup containing the holy water. You could have easily killed Taehyung today, but you needed to know more about your parent’s death. The VEC wasn’t going to tell you jack shit. Perhaps it was time to go a little rogue. 

Published October 9th, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Intoxicated

note: this was a request from @dappertapper69 , I hope you like it :)

words: 4238 (oops)

warning: alcohol, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (pls don’t do that) hope that’s it

“Focus, damn it! “you told yourself, hastily writing down some notes on your tablet before looking back up to where your boss was standing in front of the white board. It was the daily morning meeting, so you still were a bit tired, but that’s what coffee was for and it was certainly not the reason you weren’t able to pay attention.

It was him, your boss. Right now, he was showing some poll graphic, but your eyes were fixed on his muscular arms and rolled up shirt sleeves. He looked so good when dressed casually, the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, and you desperately wanted to run your hand into the neckline.

Yes, your boss was hot, but he was also really intelligent, kind and funny to no ends. The whole package, and your crush on him was big.

But your boss was also Jake Tapper, the lead anchor of CNN Washington, and there was no way he would ever see you this way. No, he was your mentor, and you basically owed everything you had right now to him.

You’ve met about a year ago at a debate Jake was moderating. Covering the event had been the first major job you’ve gotten from the newspaper you we’re working at back then, and while you weren’t really satisfied with print media, you had to take what you could. But meeting Jake had changed your life for real. You had started talking about what you were currently writing about, and you showed him some of the freelance articles you had done in for various political blogs.

He had liked your work, you exchanged numbers and two weeks later, a job offer from CNN Washington was on your desk, assistant producer for The Lead with Jake Tapper. You had to read the letter three times before actually believing it. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and you had no doubt who was behind it.

You didn’t hesitate for a moment, you directly called Jake to confirm, and two weeks later you were all packed up and ready to move to DC.

Jake went above and beyond to make sure your transfer was smooth in every sense, he helped you find an apartment, gave you a two-hour long office tour on your first day of work and regularly checked up on you in the first weeks to see if you were adjusting. He still did that, to be honest, even now that you’ve worked here for months and had learned the ropes.

But you didn’t mind at all, you have learned so much from Jake, journalism-wise as well as when it came to politics, history and literature. His general knowledge was so impressive, another thing that made him so ridiculously attractive to you.

But considering all the facts, jeopardizing your entire career by making a move at Jake was just impossible. But Lord, you wanted to.

You were so caught up in daydreaming that you didn’t even notice that the meeting was over, everyone already left except for Jake. He was packing up his stuff and looked over to you.

“Y/N, everything alright. You’ve been really quiet today, and you look exhausted. Is there something you need?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Bless his heart, you thought. There was definitely something you needed from him, but you would not go there. And it wasn’t like you could tell him that the reason for your exhaustion was the wet dream you’ve had of him last night, one that made you wake you up drenched in sweat and with soaked panties, unable to fall asleep again.

So you just dismissed him. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Just a lack of sleep.”

“You know you can always come to me when there is something up.” Jake said, putting his hand on your arm in what was meant to be a friendly gesture, but just got you even more worked up. You had it bad for the man, and that was why needed to get out of this situation right now.

“Of course, I know.” You gave him a tight smile, hoping he would buy it. “But I really need to go now, lots of stuff to do. I’ll see you.”

Later that day, when you were alone in your office booth, you texted your friend who was working in another department of CNN.

I def need to let off some steam tonight. Club? Xx

She texted you back a couple of minutes later.

Run in with the hot boss again? ;) But sure, let’s do it xx

Even though it was a weekday, the club was bursting with people. You already were on your third or fourth round of shots, and the base was humming through your body, blasting away your worries.

You dragged your friend over to the dancefloor when you heard your favorite song starting to play, the alcohol creating a warm and fuzzy sensation you totally got lost in.

+++

When you woke up the next morning, you regretted every decision you ever made. You didn’t remember how you got home last night, and your head felt like someone had smashed it in with a hammer. And on top of all, you were late for work.

When you finally got the office, everyone was already coming out of the morning meeting. You carefully made your way inside the meeting room, where Jake was still packing up his stuff, as always. As you approached him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest, as it usually did when you were alone with him, but now with the added fear of his anger.

But when he glanced up and saw you, he looked…relieved? You were confused, you had expected a telling-off, but he appeared as if he was happy to see you.

“Thank god you’re alright, Y/N, I was so worried when you didn’t show up this morning.”

It was when he took a closer look at you that he noticed your appearance, and undoubtedly sensed the alcohol still lingering. He had a very keen sense of smell, something he told you a while back. You swallowed when you saw his expression shift from friendly to irritated.

“You’re hungover.” He stated matter-of-factly, his voice cold.

“Jake, I’m really sorry, I-“you began to apologize, but he was not having it.

“Look, it’s really none of my business how you decide to spend your free time, but I expect you to act professional when it comes to the job, and that doesn’t include showing up late and hungover. I will let this one slide, but this happens again, and we have a problem, am I clear?” he was definitely angry, and you should be intimidated my that. You really felt remorse, but seeing Jake worked up like that also made your stupid brain come up with thoughts of him throwing you on the desk of the briefing room and working out his frustration on you.

“I said, am I clear?” Jake asked again, you had clearly zoned out again.

“Yes, sure, clear.” You said in a small voice, now immensely ashamed that you had disappointed Jake, after everything he had done for you.

“Again, I am really so sorry.” You called after Jake as he was making his way out of the room, but he just dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

The thoughts you had about Jake didn’t leave your mind for the rest of the day. You wanted him so bad and seeing him constantly when he was so out of reach was getting harder every day. You desperately needed to clear your head, the only way you knew. So, against your better judgement, you texted your friend again, and a couple of hours later you found yourself in the same club, drunk and dancing without a care in the world.

You almost hated how much you needed this, the music, the people surrounding you, the alcohol flowing through your veins, making you forget everything.

You lost count how many drinks you’ve downed, but you lost sight of your friend as well, so you decided to go outside for a smoke and some fresh air.

You picked your phone out of your pocket to message your friend when a fantastic idea hit you.

Why not call Jake? You were having a great time, and it only made sense that you should share it with him, because you really liked him, right?

“Y/N? It’s the middle of the night, what’s wrong, did something happen?” a still sleepy, but increasingly alarmed Jake asked from the other side of the phone.

“Hiii Jake, oh my god, I’m having the best time ever here, it’s so fun, you should come too! C’mon its Friday, you should party a bit.” You basically screamed into your phone, your voice slightly slurred from too many drinks.

“Shit, it’s Friday morning, which means there is still work tomorrow. Wait, are you drunk? Where are you?” Jake asked, his voice was full of anger now, and under normal circumstances you would be really worried about that, but right now, you did not care a single bit.

“Oh, I’m at that great new club downtown, it’s called the red…I can’t remember, something with red, and the people are so nice, but I lost my friend, so I think I’m going home soon.” You rambled on, the alcohol loosening your tongue.

“There is no way in hell you’re going home like this, Y/N. You stay right where you are, I’m coming.”He definitely sounded infuriated now, and even your intoxicated brain understood the instructions.

“Alright, Jakey, I’ll see you.” But he had already hung up.

You kept aimlessly walking around in front of the club for a while, making drunk small talk with other club goers, when suddenly, someone grabbed your shoulder and yanked you around. It was Jake, tired looking and with a deep frown on his face.

“Jaaaaaake, you came!” You exclaimed and threw your arms around his neck. He stiffened against you and softly pushed you away.

“Y/N, you’re wasted. Come on, I’m getting you home.” He said, voice leaving no room for arguments. He grabbed you by the wrist and basically dragged you to his nearby car, pushing you into the passenger seat. When he leaned over you to buckle your seatbelt, he came incredibly close to you, and again, you spoke without thinking.

“You smell so nice, Jake, like a forest.”

He just gave you a puzzled look and walked around the car to get in the driver’s seat.

The drive to your flat passed in tense silence, you were busy staring at Jakes hands angrily gripping the steering wheel, wondering if they would feel as good around your neck as you imagined. You could feel a tingle between your legs and started squirming a bit, until Jake grabbed your bare tight just below the hem of your skirt and snarled “Stop moving like this, I have to focus on traffic.”

You had to stifle a moan at his rough touch, but if he noticed he didn’t comment on it.

When you finally arrived at your building, Jake had to support you while getting into the elevator and to your door, you weren’t that steady on your feet anymore and by now, more of a tired than a giddy drunk.

“That’s mine.” You said and started fumbling with your keys. “You wanna come inside?”

If you had been sober, you would’ve noticed the pained expression that flashed over Jakes face just before it hardened again.

“No, I certainly won’t come inside, but this is what you are going to do. You will drink a glass of water, brush your teeth and set your alarm, so you will be on time at work tomorrow where we can discuss” he gestured angrily between the two of you “whatever this stunt was. Understood?”

“Yes.” You answered meekly “and thank you for taking me home!” you called, but Jake was already on his way back to the elevator.

+++

When your alarm woke you up only a few hours later, you felt like hell. And that was because you could remember everything. No blissful blackout this time, you were able to recall every vivid, horrible detail of how you had made an absolute fool out of yourself in front of the man you admired most in the world. You owed him one hell of an apology, and you were not really sure how to go about this.

You entered the office like a beaten dog, shoulders hanging and praying to the gods you looked better than you felt. Jake ignored you in the morning briefing, so you stayed behind to face his wrath. When you were finally alone, you spoke first.

“Jake, about last night, I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. Not only did I act extremely reckless and unprofessional, but I also took advantage of our friendship, which is something that a value more than anything. I accept whatever repercussion you see fit, I just hope you can see how sorry I am.” By the end of your little speech you were almost crying, your disappointment in yourself and your fear of Jakes reaction were making you physically sick.

Jake stayed silent for what felt like forever, and when he finally spoke, your anxiety was almost killing you. “Yes, I am immensely angry about what happened last night. But most of all I’m worried. The Y/N I know doesn’t act that irresponsible, getting absolutely wasted two nights in a row. I went to talk to your friend down in the sports department earlier this morning. I know, that might be considered unprofessional, but she’s just as worried as I am. She told me you’ve been drinking a lot lately, and always more than you should. What is wrong, Y/N, what are you hiding from me?”

That was the perfect timing to tell him everything, how he was on your mind all the time, how you wanted to kiss him, touch him, be with him in every way possible, so bad that it was keeping you up at night or haunted your dreams. But you couldn’t, there was too much on the line.

“Nothing, work is just stressful, I’ve been working overtime so much; I had to blow off some steam. I’m just sorry I dragged you into this.”

Jake stepped closer to you, and you could feel your heart speed up at the way he was looking at you, something like heated curiosity on his face.

“So, this has nothing to do with the way you threw yourself at me last night, or how you told me I smelled nice?” he asked, his deep voice making goosebumps break out all over your skin. “Or with the fact that you tried to invite me into your apartment?”

“Jake, it’s not how it looks like, I swear. I won’t bother you like this again, ever, I promise.” Your voice starting to become panicked, this couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t know.

But Jake just chuckled and leaned down to whisper into your ear.

“I think I know exactly how this looks, Y/N.”

He took a step back, suddenly looking calm and collected again, as if the moment you just had never happened.

“I have to go now, but I see you tonight. The office party in the bar down the road, you remember? I expect everyone to at least show up for a while.”

Great, you thought, having totally forgotten about the event. You just wanted to curl up in bed and feel sorry for yourself, but obviously that wasn’t in the cards for you today.

And so, a couple of hours later you found yourself in said bar, surrounded by your colleagues. You already had a short talk with your friend, ensuring her that you weren’t mad that she talked to Jake, you were convinced it came from a place of concern.

You kept it at two drinks, but it was enough to lighten your mood a bit. Jake was talking to someone in another corner of the room, and he looked fantastic with a casual blazer and no tie. There were moments when you felt like he was watching you, but you were never able to make eye contact and were too shy to approach him directly.

It got late and people were starting to hit the dancefloor. You decided to give it a go as well, and soon you were totally lost in the music.

Suddenly, you felt a set of strong hands on your hips and the presence of a warm body behind you. You spun around to tell whatever creep decided to grope you to let it go when you saw that it was Jake. He was smirking down at you, moving his body to the music. You weren’t sure what to do, you were incredibly nervous, but having him close felt so good. Deciding to be brave, you just took his hands and put them back on your hips, giving him a small nod. His grin broadened and you could see his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the dancefloor. He pulled you closer until your bodies almost were almost touching, you put your hands around his neck and started to lightly move against him.

Jakes eyes were darkening as he looked down at you, and his grip on your hips tightened noticeable. Being the center of his attention like that, in combination with the pulse of the base and the pleasant warmth of the alcohol in your system made you slightly lightheaded, you felt like you were in your own little bubble, just you and Jake. You started to lightly gyrate your hips, and you could swear that you heard him groan over the sound of the song playing. He pulled you even tighter against his body, by now you were grinding against each other, never leaving each other’s eyes, and your body felt like it was on fire. The tension between the two of you was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Your faces were coming closer and closer to each other, and your heart was basically jumping out of your chest by now, when suddenly, someone burst your bubble.

“Jake, we need you in the studio, there’s been an incident with…” some agitated guy tried to scream over the music, and you couldn’t make out all the words, but the next thing you heard was Jakes voice as he leaned down to address you.

“I have to go for now, but this isn’t over. I’ll see you on Monday.” It sounded promising, and a delicious shudder went down your spine at his words, easing away some of the frustration you felt at being interrupted.

The weekend was long, you didn’t call or text Jake, unsure what to say. So you just tried to distract yourself until it was finally time for work again.

The week started with the usual morning meeting, and you and Jake weren’t even trying to hide the glances you were giving each other. The dynamic between you had definitely shifted, and the tension only increased over the course of the day.

He was purposefully standing closer to you than usual, you let your hand lightly brush against his leg when he was sitting next to you at lunch and during the afternoon shows ad breaks, his eyes were fixed on you, never leaving you out of sight. You looked back, biting your lips and Jakes eyes widened, he looked like he wanted to devour you. You knew that sooner or later you had to face him and address what was going on. So when you got a message from Jake shortly after the show was over, telling you to meet him in his office, you basically ran there.

In front of his door, you took a moment to collect yourself before you knocked and entered.

Jake was leaning against his desk, tie and suit jacked discarded, arms crossed over his chest.

You made your way over to him and when you were close enough, he put his hands on your hips, like he was picking up right where you left it Friday night.

“You know.” He said, and his voice was a bit husky. “I’ve been in quiet the state since our dance Friday night. And your little touches here and there haven’t helped at all.”

He accentuated his words by pulling you flush against his body, and you moaned simultaneously when you felt the evidence of his arousal pressed against your belly.

You smirked and got on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear “I see, now what am I supposed to do about that?”

You pressed a kiss to his neck, and the deep groan he let out was almost sinful.

He reached out to grab your jaw and kissed you in a way that made it clear that he had lost his usually tight control. You held onto him with both arms while he spun you around and probed you up onto his desk, sending papers and pens flying in all directions. No one of you cared.

His hands found their way under your skirt, climbing up until his fingers were stroking over your already soaked panties. He pressed a finger to your covered clit, and you couldn’t suppress a loud moan.

“God, Y/N, how are you already so wet, I have barely touched you.”

“Get on with it then, please.” You groaned, spreading your legs to give him better access. He complied, pushing up your skirt. You lifted your hips so he could swiftly slide your panties down your legs, exposing your glistening center to the cool air of his office.

His fingers crept up your tights again, parting your lips and plunging two digits inside you while his thumb was rubbing your clit in light, circular motions, the pressure creating the most perfect sensation.

“Yesssss.” You hissed and tried to move your hips into the direction of his fingers to increase the friction, this wasn’t nearly enough for you.

“Please Jake, I need more.” You looked up at him and his eyes darkened.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.” He whispered, withdrew his fingers and opened his fly. He pulled down his trousers and underwear, revealing his cock. You licked your lips at the sight of it, you were definitely going to enjoy this.

“You better come over here right now.” You whispered, and Jake stepped between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance, teasing you.

“Damn, Tapper, fuck me already.” You groaned, and a second later he was thrusting into you in one fluid motion, instantly setting a brutal pace. You slapped your hand over your mouth to suppress the scream that was bursting out of you at the feeling of being filled so roughly. By now, you were almost lying almost flat on his desk, various clutter digging into your back.

Jakes hand were on your hips again, grabbing them tightly while slamming into you over and over. You had to keep your hand pressed to your mouth to prevent your loud cries from spilling out. Jake was hitting a perfect spot deep inside you with each hard thrust and you already knew you wouldn’t last long.

“I’ve been thinking about this for the whole weekend, throwing you on that desk and fucking you.” He growled through his clenched teeth and hearing him talk like that made your arousal spike. You had never seen him so unhinged, and it was glorious.

“You feel so good inside me Jake, so good, please fuck me harder.” You whimpered, and when he deepened his thrusts it only took another moment till you hit your peak with a guttural cry, a disfigured version of Jakes name falling from your lips.

He fucked you through your climax, never slowing down. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead, your mixed breathings and groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the office.

When he reached between your legs to rub your clit again, it almost felt like too much, you were overstimulated, but he was relentless, rubbing and pressing until you were on the edge of another orgasm.

“Jake, ugh, I’m going to come again.” You cried, and when he pinched your bud between his fingers you felt like you died and went to heaven. The walls of your pussy were fluttering and clenching down onto his cock as you hit your second peak, this time dragging Jake along with you over the edge. He gave one last forceful thrust and released himself deep inside you with a growl.

After he pulled out, Jake helped you get up from the desk and pulled you against his chest.

“You should have told me earlier.” He said, voice still slightly breathless. “How you felt.”

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes.

“I wish I had.” You answered. “Would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“What is this too you?” he asked, his voice strangely emotional “What do you want from this?”

“I want you. If you’ll have me?”

The kiss he gave you in response was all the answer you needed.

[minthysugamon]

Why'd you only call me when you're high? (J.JK x Reader)

Drummer! Jungkook x Manager's daughter! Reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex,drugs and alcohol. Usage of foul language (like in most of my writings bc i talk like a roadman). Friends with benefits type of relationship. Kinda angsty but also fluffy if you search for the fluff with a magnifying glass.

Word count: 2222 (hehe,angel number go brr)

A/N: I promise,i will try to do some smut but i don't feel comfy enough to write it bc idk...i just cringe when i see my writing. So sorry if it isn't what you guys expect...

3:03 am

Your phone buzzed once again. It was for the 6th time tonight in a row,so even without looking at the device,it was safe to assume that the rockstar your dad managed was probably at some pub,hammered and not even being able to call a cab for himself so he called your number. Like usual. 3:04 am. It rang again. "What? It better be an emergency cause i swear to god if you're calling because you're dru-" his laugh was as intoxicating as the liquor he had sipped on some minutes ago. "Doll,listen...i need a ride...and since your dad is our manager,it would be greatly appreciated if you came for me..." a sigh left your lips as you hang up on him.

But Jungkook didn't stop pestering you. The drummer of V2J was a pain in the ass. As shy and awkward he was in his sober times,his horndog behaviour was equalising if not surpassing his normal behaviour when he was thrashed.

You picked up the call one more time when the familiar ringtone went off. "Hey,why are you so rude,dollface? Don't you know hangin-" your words cut off his as soon as he was trying to do his monologue. "Jungkook. Like how you said it so cleverly,MY DAD is the manager. Not me. Pester him at 3 am if you have some difficulties to go home,not his daughter. Thank you. I have an exam in two days, i have to study tomorrow. Or today because at this point of the night i can't say tomorrow,so let me get the 2 hours of sleep i could still get tonight if i go to sleep in less than 10 minutes.. Leave me alone. Call Taehyung or something,i don't care. Now please don't call me again. Thanks." Then the tune of the "Hang Up" option resonated in your room once again.

Truth be told, if it would've been the first time he calls you and asks you for help at 3 in the morning,you would've helped his dumbass out,but it wasn't the case. Whenever Jungkook had some nightly problems, you were the first target in his contact list. It wasn't the first time he called you to pick him up from somewhere or to let him stay at your place for the night because he lost his keys to his appartment after a wild escapade with his bandmates to the nearest club. And it never ended with him only sleeping on your couch. It usually started at the front door and ended with him sleeping an arm around you after fucking your brains out. If he had been serious about this whole weird relationship you had, it would've been official for more than a year now,but he has to keep his rockstar persona intact. So of course,you were nothing more than the daughter of his manager who was good enough to be fucked when he was drunk or high.

At 3:36,someone rang at the interphone of your home. When you got up from your bed with a huff,you were already seeing the tatted up boy's smirk on the camera in a mental image. And you weren't wrong. His smirk was present as soon as the little screen had lit up with his face so close to it,you though he was a toddler seeing an interphone for the first time in his life. "You really came here at 3 and a half? Jeon,for fucks sake. If i get down there,i'mma beat some sense into you,so you better start running now." He simply laughed,a noise of exasperation leaving his throat. "Aw...come on (Y/n)...let me in,i lost my keys..."

You pushed on the key button,you let him in again. At this point it was exthausing because you knew what this meant. And even if you wanted to deny it,your brain wanted this to stop,but your heart was yearning for him. "I swear to god Jungkook,if you come here again at 3 am,i will stick a pipe up your ass." You unlocked the door for him and let him enter your home.

Fatal mistake because he didn't even answer,he simply pushed you against the wall and looked into your eyes,foreheads touching. "And why would you do that sweetheart? Hm? I thought you liked when i come here...for you." You can't deny it,you fell for him over the months,you fell for this idiot who liked banana milk more than anything else,who drank whisky with more cola than he should because he hated alcohol but wanted to keep his bad boy persona. But the smell of a woman on him made your heart sink. "Jungkook,please...just go and take of your shoes,i will bring you a blanket and a pillow so you can sleep on the couch."

He took your words in a hurtful way,his expression changed from flirty to genuinely hurt. "So...we aren't sleeping together like always?" You scoffed and got out of his grip. "I don't even know why i let you in. If you wanted to get your dick sucked again,you could've called one of your groupies." You disappeared in your room to search for a blanket and pillow,not that you deemed him deserving of such comfort,but he was also keen to be shivering at night without a blanket so it would be better for him to get some warmth during the dark hours. With a shaky breath,you went back to the living room and placed the pillow and comforter on the couch. "(Y/n)...what's the matter?" No answer. You didn't want to answer his question,he wasn't worthy for an answer,but his insistance was made clear when he took your hand into his and brought you closer to him. "Please...(Y/n)...answer me,i'm getting worried at this point,what's the matter?" Inhaling some fresh oxygen as the lump in your throat was only getting tighter,it finally dawned on you. You were in love with him. "Why'd you only call me when you're high?" The tears started to sting in your eyes,the drummer looked at you with a questioning expression. "High? What do you mean?" "Why'd you only call me and come here when your high?" After repeating your previous question,your voice cracked and all tears were let to flow down on your cheeks. "What? (Y/n) i really don't understand what you're talking about." "Why are you only showing interest in me when you're drunk and need to empty your balls. Is it more clear like that?" Jungkook's heart cracked at the sight of you crying because of him. He didn't want you to fall for him,not when he's at the peak of his career,but it would be a lie to say he didn't feel something for you.

"(Y/n)...come on,you know i can't be with someone. I thought that we both made this clear." His tattoed arms were still securely wrapped around you,stroking your back in the hopes of the action giving you some comfort,but as soon as you looked up to him with teary eyes,he couldn't help but let his waterworks flow too. Truth be told,Jungkook hated to see you sad,as awkward as the situation was right now,he hated seeing the one he fell for sad. "No,you made it clear for yourself. You're always acting nice with me,always closing any distance we had between us...no matter how hard i try to stay away from you,you suffocate me...if it was with hatred,it would be better,but it isn't. You're always here to fuck me up then rebuild me once you're sober. I fucking hate you for making me fall for you but i hate myself more for letting myself fall for you."

Your words were stinging. Even poisonous to his ears. Did you really hate him? And as much as it hurt him,it hurt you the same. You never really saw someone else in the hopes of being his one day,you won't blame it on him because you were the one in control of your own life,but every step you declined from someone else was to aliment the hope of being his one day. "I'm sorry...(Y/n)...i...i know you like me...but it won't work out. I do see you as more than just a friend with benefits,i do like you too...but...i can't be with you when i don't even know what tomorrow is made of." You tried to get out of his grip,but it only tightened and he brought your chin up with two fingers. "Listen,don't think i don't like you...if i didn't..you wouldn't be the first one i call to help me,fuck,i know i sound like an asshole for saying this but i do like you...i just..." he was getting ridiculous at this point and he knew it. "You just what? You don't want to miss out on someone else. I get it. You want your target list to be finished then crawl back to me when you're done."  "(Y/n) it's not like tha-" you finally got out of his grip. "No. Don't say anything. I get it. But i won't be a second choice to anyone. Let alone you. Good night." You quickly wiped your tears away and went to your room,closing the door behind yourself,leaving Jungkook alone,in the dark living room.

He was tossing and turning for more than an hour now. You could hear it from your room how he was walking up and down the hall. 'I really fucked up.' he thought to himself and he wasn't wrong. You were probably the only person who would really go to hell and back for him and you were the only person he would do the same for. Then why was he acting like an asshole towards you now? Now that he was sure of your feelings,why did he have to break everything he tried to build? It couldn't end like that.

He softly knocked on your door,even if you told him to go away,he opened the door and lied down next to you,taking your body in his arms,nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck. "I'm sorry..." his soft lips placed a kiss on your neck and hands grabbed yours. "Sorry for what? For at least telling me the truth?" "(Y/n)...it's not like that...i just don't want to fuck things up. I prefer to fuck it up now than once we're together. I...i do love you...i heard the bells and the fireworks as soon as i saw you...but i don't want to fuck this up. Simply because i know how fans are,how groupies are. I prefer you seeing my fuckboy image than the real me,as much as i hate it though." You turned around,facing him,still in his clutch. "Well too late dumbass,i fell for the awkward and nice you,the one i see during studio hours,during practice,not this...whole flirty fuckboy persona that i get to see at every thursday at 3 am." He inhaled then kissed your forehead,bringing you closer to him. "It's too late for me to ask you to be my girlfriend...right? I don't want things to end...and,if the only way for me to stay with you is to put that image aside,i'm willing to do it."  You sighed. He was still in the wrong. You didn't want him to change for you,but for him. To be himself again. "Jungkook,you don't understand...i want you to be you. I don't want you to rush into things because you don't want to lose me. Plus,you might not like a relationship,so if you don't want one right now,then leave me alone and don't make me fall for you more."

He shut you up before you could go on your monologue with a kiss. Not a rushed one like usually. But a soft one. One that tasted like cigarettes,monster,alcohol and love. "I love you...and starting a relationship now...or in 5 years...it won't change shit...no matter what i think now. I...after thinking about it...what you said...you're right. If i don't jump in right now...what will it change in 2 or 5 years? Nothing...i will still be the same if i don't change now." His frown turned into a small smile when he felt your nose in his neck,a light peck on his skin and your hands on his back. "So...you really want to start something with me...out of love and not out of pity?" He smacked the back of your head,out of habit but also out of outrage,he didn't want you to think he was doing this out of pity. "You dumbass,i want to be with you. I really want to. Out of love. Not because i pity you. You are probably the only person who would accept my headassery...and i love you. So please...don't ever think i would do this brcause of pity." You simply laughed,still sniffing a little bit and cupped his cheeks. "Good,because...i love you too." He kissed you first,again. Now with more passion though. His hands roaming around your back and ribcage,then on your waist,he couldn't help but pull you closer,until it couldn't be done anymore. "I know you do...now...shouldn't we sleep..? Because it's half past five...and you have to wake up at 10 so you can study..." You kissed his neck once more then placed your head on his chest. "It's already almost 6..might as well watch some cartoons and eat breakfast,no?" Jungkook's face lit up like a child's at the candy store. "Now i know why i heard the bells and the fireworks when i saw you."

I hope you guys enjoyed this,i kinda made it longer than most of my writings,but i still hope it's okay!

My requests are always open,so please,if you have something to request,i am more than happy to do it!

[coveredinsweetpea]

purest shade of pink. sweet pea.

A/n: ok so this was requested and i was planning on writing a blurb but i got carried away a bit. I hope you like this, and please don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought, please! 

Summary: what could possibly happen when the sweet girl of riverdale sneaks her biker boyfriend inside her room to fuck, while her father is downstairs sleeping? (SMUT)

-

"Why would you even do that?" you questioned, genuinely curious about why someone would ever end up cheating. You spoke with such determination that out of context, it would be hard to tell that this situation did not even affect you personally. It was just another round of gossip between you and the rest  of the River Vixens, pouring out your souls and uncensored judgement into a conversation that had no importance to you whatsoever. But considering how crazy things have been in Riverdale for the past years, if there was anything that even remotely made you feel like a normal high schooler, you were more than ready to jump into it head straight. "She's literally turned him into a door mat" Carla scoffed, taking another puff of her cigarette. The smoke make your nose wrinkle, but you tried to play it off. "Maybe he's into that kind of stuff, who knows?" "Love, I know you're Little Miss Innocence here, but that's a whole different thing" Carla laughed with superiority. "Just because they like that in the bedroom doesn't mean the gotta be like that in real life too" "That's not what I meant" you scoffed, "And you know it. And stop calling me that, please" "Take a puff, then" he taunted, handing you her cigarette, "If you're so badass, I wanna see you inhale that smoke and blow it out your nose" "No" you rolled your eyes, "That would literally prove nothing" "Except that you're a wuss" Carla laughed. "Oh my God" Megan sighed, interrupting the two of you, "No one cares, I just wanna know how I should tell Lori that her boyfriend is cheating on her. Help me" You were happy to drop the argument, Carla not so much. But eventually she did, and you resumed the gossip round. It lasted for about 30 more minutes and you got to no conclusion whatsoever, but when you heard the familiar rumble of a Harley Davidson riding down the street, you knew that was your cue to leave. You stood up, and gathered your stuff hurriedly.

"See you tomorrow, girls" you cheered, picking up you purse, gym bag and already cold coffee cup. "I have no idea how you ended up with that guy, I swear" one of your friends laughed, shaking her head. "Lady in the streets, devil in the sheets" Megan cheered, and all you could do was blush and signal for her to shut up. As you walked away from them and over to where Sweet Pea was parking, you could still hear them yell different kinds of lines after you, but you decided to ignore them. It has never been your thing to give in to any kind of provocation, and you weren't going to start now. As you walked towards him, you picked up your pace until you were actually running. He was leaning against his bike, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. It may have been the loud rumble of all your belongings being shaken up inside your bag as you sprinted down the alley, or it may have been a coincidence, but when you were a few feet away he look up. Upon meeting your excited stare, he opened up his arms wide, welcoming you in a tight and warm hug he knew you loved so much. "Hi, angel" Sweet Pea laughed as you pulled away. He leaned down and kissed your lips, in this case, the taste of cigarettes not bothering you anymore. One hand wrapped around your middle and the other holding onto your cheek, he kissed you sweetly, as other students passing by stood and gawked. You didn't really care. Over time, you got used to them, what amazed you was how they didn't get used to you dating a Serpent. As a straight A student, the second in command after Cheryl in the cheerleading squad and the main singer and the school's band, they simply did not understand what you could possibly see in a rugged looking biker, member of a lawless gang from the wrong side of the tracks. Explaining this to them has never even crossed your mind. It was none of their business and to be fair, even though you'd never admit it, you kind of loved the attention. You hopped onto Sweet Pea's bike, and turned to him confused when he just stood by and looked at you. "Everything ok?" you asked, "Yeah, yeah" he nodded, "But we can't hang out at my house today. My uncle's home and you know how he gets" "Are you ok?" you questioned concerned, grabbing his hand to rub your thumb across his knuckles reassuringly, "Did you two argue again?" "No, love, it's fine" he sighed, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "As long as I'm not around him that much, it's all good" "You'd tell me if things weren't good, right?" "Of course" he smiled, "I swear, everything is fine so far" "Let's go to my house" you suggested, and tapped the spot on the bike where he was supposed to sit. "Your parents are home, don't think they'd-" "I'll keep them distracted while you climb in, relax! They won't see you" "One day they will" Sweet Pea chuckled, shaking his head as he got on the bike, "And I'm not mentally ready for that" "Oh god, babe" you sighed and wrapped your arms around his middle, "Just drive" You couldn't help but smile at how the only man that ever managed to scare Sweet Pea was your dad. To be fair, your dad scared everyone. The way you and your mum looked and acted, fit in no way your dad's way of being. As sweet and loving as he was towards his own family, he was just as threatening and ruthless when if came to anyone that ever dared look at you the wrong way. Although he never actually laid a hand on anyone, when he wanted to, his voice would drop a few octaves, his eyes would darken, and the things that would come out of his mouth were enough to scare anyone away. When he met Sweet Pea for the first time, you were actually scared that by the end of the night you'd be single. He pulled through though, and held his head up, determined to prove to your father just how much he cared about you and how determined he was to make sure you would always be safe. Even if they came to accept each other, the days where your dad would be ok with you and Sweet Pea taking things to a certain level of intimacy were far far away in the future. If Pea came by the house, the door had to be left open and the music had to be off. There was no universe where you'd ever obey that rule, but anyway, you love the adrenaline you always got from sneaking around. When you got home, your dad was fast asleep on the couch so you hurried upstairs and signaled for Sweet Pea to climb inside. By now, it was muscle memory - climb onto the second lower branch, step on left corner of the roof, avoid the third row of tiles because they creaked when you put weight on them, and about a minute later, he was inside your room. Sweet Pea threw his jacket to the floor, black leather falling silently on top of your pinkish carpet. Nothing about him fit with anything in your room, and you loved it. His cologne was musky and cool, your room smelled sweet and flowery. His hair was an adorable mess, while everything around him was tidied up and in perfect order. "I don't understand how you don't lose your mind in here" he laughed, taking in all the childish and innocent decorations of your room. From where you were sitting on your knees on the bed, you lounged for him. "Don't think about it" you laughed, gripping the hem of his flannel and pulling his body towards you. Sweet Pea understood in an instant what was going through your mind, and he met you with a devilish smirk on his lips. "You sure this is safe?" he asked, placing his hands on your hips. Although you didn't even nod in approval, his fingers traveled lower, brushing over the hem of your cheerleading uniform, until he reached the bare skin of your thighs. Your hands snaked around his neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue roamed your mouth with dominance, acting as if he had been deprived of your lips for too long. When his fingers started digging into your skin from the pure need of taking things further, you couldn't help but moan into the kiss. In an instant, he grabbed the elastic of your skirt and pulled it down your legs. You leaned back on the bed allowing him to take it off completely, and enjoyed your view as he stood tall, right by the bed, taking his shirt off. Your mouth watered when you heard the metallic sound of his belt being unbuckled. A few seconds later his pants had pooled at his ankles, leaving him in his boxers only, that did not do too good of a job in hiding the shameless bulge he rocked. "Let's see how wet you are, angel" he smirked, looking at you through the raven locks that had fallen on top of his forehead. You smiled wickedly and parted your legs, his fingers making their way to your cotton underwear in the blink of an eye. He rubbed his thumb over your bundle of nerves, and looked up at you with a lewd smile on his lips. "All for me?" As much as you loved all the foreplay you guys usually did, today was different. For whatever reason, you were in a mood. That mood where you wanted him to make you scream out his name until your throat stung, you wanted to feel him between your legs the next day. You shuffled out of your panties and Sweet Pea lowered himself on top of you, maintaining his weight on his elbows and knees. "Pea, fuck me hard" you whined, all of a sudden weirdly needy for his cock, "Please" "Don't I always?" he grinned, snaking an arm around your neck and fisting your pony tail tight between his fingers. He pulled on it, just enough for it to give that special kind of pain that morphed instantly into pleasure. You arched your back, and moaned his name before biting down on your lower lip. "Shh, now" he hummed and pulled away from you. It was just now that you realized he hadn't even taken his boxers off. "Touch yourself for me" he commanded as he undressed completely and gave his already half way hard cock a few pumps. He watched you brush your middle finger across your clit before seeing it disappear slowly inside your pussy. The sight made his mouth water, and his cock twitch in his hand. Having had enough of this, he lounged at you, pressing his knees into the mattress on either side of your thighs, his cock aligning with your opening at a painfully small distance. He leaned in and kissed you on your lips, sloppily, your teeth clinking in the process before he went ahead to kiss down your neck. Without allowing his lips to break contact with your skin, he pressed the tip of his cock to your clit, before going in slowly. The feeling of his member spreading your walls open made you moan out his name as your wrapped your legs around him, pressing the heels of your feet against the back of his thighs. In the beginning, his pace was slow and his thrusts were passionate and deep, but soon enough, he sped up, sending waves of pleasure across your whole body. "Harder, Pea" you cried into his shoulder. It seemed like he stopped and considered his options for a second. Eventually, he pulled out, and straightened his back. You didn't even get a chance to complain as he grabbed your hips and forcefully spun you around, laying you down on your stomach. You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you waited for him to enter you again, but much to your surprise, his hands grabbed your middle again, pulling you up and against his chest. His fingers wrapped themselves in your hair, tilting your head back. "Think I don't fuck you hard enough?" he questioned directly into your ear. "You do" you nodded eagerly, feeling your pussy clench just at his words. "I do what?" he teased. "Fuck me, please. You fuck me so good, Pea. I need you" you cried, pressing yourself back against him. Even though you did crave his touch, when he pushed your forward and you landed back on your tummy on the bed, you couldn't help but squirm in anticipation. Sweet Pea grabbed your hips and pulled your ass up in the air, on full display for his hungry eyes. With your cheek pressed against your fluffy blanket, you bit down on your lip as you waited patiently. Although you expected him to thrust into you, deep and hard, instead, his right palm connected to your ass in one hard slap, making your skin feel on fire. "Pea!" you moaned loudly, completely forgetting you were not alone in the house. You tried to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure, but he was quick to push your legs apart and bring the tip of his cock to your opening. He pushed himself in, going all the way until his pelvis pressed against your ass. This time his pace was much more aggravated, slamming into your pussy ruthlessly. The only things audible in the room where the low moans that escaped Sweet Pea's throat and the whiny breaths you let out every time he went in. "This good enough for you?" he taunted, bringing a hand under your legs, to apply pressure to your clit. "Yes, daddy" you cried, the words just slipping out of your mouth in the heat of the moment. He kept going, harder and deeper with each thrust, making the whole world shake around you. When your orgasm started building up, you felt his hand back in your hair as he forced you up again. He maintained your head tilted back against his shoulder as he pounded your pussy, his other arm snaked around your abdomen keeping you in place. "Fuck, fuck, keep going, keep going" you moaned. "That's my good girl" Sweet Pea laughed, sinking his teeth in the skin of your neck. Ready to let yourself go completely, your whole mood was perturbed when a familiar voice reached your ears. "Y/n?" you heard you dad call from the other side of your bedroom door. Your blood froze for a second, but Sweet Pea kept going. "Answer him!" he commanded. Clearing your throat to make sure you sounded at least somewhat normal, you took a deep breath. "Yeah, dad?" As you waited for a response, Pea kept rubbing your clit in circular motion, sucking on the skin of your neck as his thrusts became much more slower, but just as deep, all of these together enough to bring tears of pleasure into your eyes. "What are you doing, pumpkin? Can I come in?" "No!" you hurried to stop him. "No, no, um.. don't come in" "Are you ok?" he asked and you could hear concern in his voice. "Yeah, baby girl" Pea chuckled into your ear, bringing a hand to your right breast, gripping it tightly between his fingers, "Are you ok?" You squinted your eyes, "I'm uh... I'm shaving my legs!" "Oh" your dad exclaimed, "Ok, I'll leave you to it. I'm making pancakes and wanted to ask how many you want" "I want 5" Sweet Pea whispered. "7" you yelled, your mind beyond confused. Pea kept pushing all your buttons to the extreme and you were about to lose it all if your dad didn't leave already. "Seven?" he exclaimed, "You want 7? You bit your lip annoyed, Pea pulling on your hair again to bring you back to your senses, "Yes, 7!" "Ok, hurry" your dad said and then left. It was just now that you were able to breathe properly, but it didn't last too long as Sweet Pea grabbed your chin and made you turn your head so you could meet his dark, hooded eyes, "Think I didn't feel your pussy clench around my dick when he almost caught us?" Your cheeks turned a bright shake of red, and you were not able to come up with any decent response. "Is that what turns you on, hm?" he questioned, "being afraid someone is gonna catch us?" You didn't get to answer as he pushed you back down on the bed, lowering himself on top of you. He pressed his cock back inside you, fucking you from behind at an ungodly slow pace, "Imma keep that in mind, angel." he mumbled to himself, "Oh, the possibilities" His words and the mental imagines they created brought a wicked smile to your lips as you pushed your ass up against him. "Such a slut, aren't you" he chuckled into your ear as he sunk himself inside of you. You nodded in approval, muttering a weak, "I am"

[stars-in-my-universe]

Don’t You Fake It: Tyler Seguin

Summary: Tyler’s girlfriend fakes an orgasm and he finds out.

Warnings: Smut and cursing.

Hopefully you guys like it, let me know what you think. I’m sorry if it’s not the best.

x-x

Usually you had no problem getting off, you and Tyler had a wonderful sex life. From fucking in every room of his house, to having a quickie in the back of his jeep, you guys were having sex all the time. Neither of you were complaining so when Tyler arrived home after scoring the OT winning goal, you had no complaints when he pushed you up against the wall and had his pants around his legs and your panties pushed to the side from underneath your dress you wore to the game. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby.” He was kissing your neck hotly and you wanted to get him into bed, however you were also exhausted. From having class from 8 to 11 then having work from 12 to 6 and immediately going to the game straight over, your body was tired and your mind was on overdrive.

But you also didn’t want to deny Tyler of his victory sex, it was some of the greatest sex; he deserved it. It’s not like you didn’t want him, you always wanted him. Your body was already aching for him and the wetness between your legs wasn’t helping. It was your mind that was taking a moment to catch up to everything else. Which is why after you had gotten on your knees for Tyler in the living room, him leaning against the wall, eyes closed and then moving toward the bedroom you inwardly groaned when he laid back on the bed, naked and motioning for you to ride him.

You were wet enough for him to slide in easily and despite the fact that you were tired you still let out a moan when you slid onto him, feeling him hit deep inside of you. His hands immediately found purchase on your hips and immediately started rocking you against him, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone deliciously. Tyler groaned as you clenched around him hard and closed his eyes in pure bliss.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good.” You bit your lip and you almost felt bad for how into it he actually was. You knew there was no way you were going to cum tonight so you made it your mission to make him cum. Like before, it’s not like it didn’t feel good, from his hands splayed out across your thighs, then roaming up your tummy, hips and to your chest you moaned out loud when he pinched one of your nipples, sending shockwaves straight between your legs.

He started to lift his hips a little more now and your thighs were starting to burn a bit. You placed your hands on his abs, feeling them clench underneath your touch, one of your favorite feelings. He was letting out moans more frequently now and his thrusts were getting sloppy. He was close. 

“Come on baby,” Fuck, of course he’d want you to come first, always the gentleman. You knew you weren’t going to tonight, you weren’t even close so you did the thing you weren’t supposed to do.

You faked it.

Increasing the movement of your hips, you dug your nails into his skin a bit and let out moans a little louder than you had been. You could hear him mutter a ‘fuck’ underneath his breath and you knew he bought it. Especially as you clenched down hard around him, and brought a hand between your legs to rub your clit a little. Tyler’s hips shot off the bed as he gripped your hips to bring you down harder to him, you could feel him filling you up, his cum hot and messy making you shiver a bit. 

Panting you rolled off of him, watching as his inked chest rose up and down. He looked exhausted now but as he rolled to his side to face you he sent you a soft smile. His hair in his face,a light layer of sweat all over his tanned skin. You still thought he was the sexiest thing in the world but as your body finally relaxed and your mind going blank you fell asleep with his arms around your waist and the guilt of what you had done settling deep in your gut. 

X-x

You had invited your best friend over a couple days later just to unwind and relax. The two of you sat in the living room of Tyler’s house drinking some wine and talking. Tyler had been at a game which the Stars lost in overtime and had gotten home a while ago, he was upstairs with the dogs as far as you knew.

“So, are you ever going to tell him you faked it?’ You almost choked on the wine you were drinking.

“Shhhh, I told you that in secret!” She rolled her eyes and glared at you.

“We’ve all done it. It’s not a big deal, you were tired.” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s not like he’s bad at sex right?” You immediately shook your head.

“It was just a long day and my body was exhausted. Is it really necessary to tell him?” Your best friend shrugged. 

“Roles were reversed, would you want him to tell you?” You stayed quiet, as much as it would hurt you, you would want him to tell you. You guys weren’t the couple that lied to each other but you genuinely didn’t want to hurt his feelings. 

Tyler could come off as very cocky and hard if you will however when he showed you the real him he was the complete opposite, which you loved. You just didn’t feel like getting into an argument over something that happened once and only once. 

Your best friend cleared her throat and you looked back over to her. She had an eyebrow raised and gently put her glass back on the table.

“There’s your answer, I think I should go. Call me later okay?” You nodded and put your glass down as well, walking her to the door. Saying your goodbyes, you told her you'd call her tomorrow and closed the door. 

Humming to yourself you shut down all the lights in the living room and kitchen and made your way to the bedroom. You were expecting to see the dogs layed all across the bed and Tyler fast asleep considering that’s what he told you he was going to do.

Instead you walked in seeing the dogs all laying on the floor and a shirtless Tyler sitting at the edge of the bed, looking down at his phone in his lap. 

“Hey baby, why are you still awake?” Tyler didn’t say anything he didn’t even look up at you. He was eerily quiet.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You froze, your whole body running cold. Fuck.

“I- what?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You didn’t know what to say, you were tongue tied. How the hell did he know?

“I went downstairs a little bit ago and stopped when I heard you guys. I’ve been up here since.” He was now standing in front of you and you swear you’ve never seen him look this...defeated.

“Why didn’t you say anything, Y/n?” You didn’t know what to say besides the truth.

“I just, Tyler. I was just, I don’t know. I was tired and you were so happy and excited and it’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, I just-”

“So you lied to me? How selfish do you think I am?” You winced at the hurt in his voice.

“No, Tyler it’s not-”

“Y/n, if you would’ve told me how tired you were I would have never pushed you to have sex. The fact that you think I would be that selfish, that I couldn’t understand that you work and go to school and then come to games to support me. But I’m not a mind reader either.” You could feel the tears at the corner of your eyes.

“I’m going to go sleep in the den, I’ll see you in the morning.” You let out a small whimper.

“No wait, Tyler. Please, let me just explain.”

“I need some time, okay?” You didn’t move from your spot, you just watched him leave the room, all 3 dogs following him. You knew this was your fault, you should’ve told him but you couldn’t help the ache in your heart and the tears free falling from your eyes as you tucked yourself away underneath the covers. You had so much trouble sleeping that night; all you did was toss and turn.

You’d fall asleep and then wake up, the guilt eating at you. The sad look on Tyler’s face, the hurt in his voice. You couldn’t remember the last time he looked that upset and all you had to do was tell him the truth.

The next morning you had woken up before Tyler, the dogs happily meeting you in the kitchen as you made yourself some tea. You let all three of the boys out and turned to sit on the counter when Tyler made his way into the kitchen. His hair was sticking up in different directions and you could tell he had gotten no sleep as well. 

You took a sip of your tea as you watched him make a cup of coffee without saying anything. You watched his back muscles move as he reached for a coffee cup and the way his shorts clung to his hip-

“So how many times?” Your eyes moved back up to his face. He was looking at you with no amusement, that glimmer in his eyes that he usually had was gone. 

“Tyler, just let me talk.”

“How many times?” You jumped a bit at the volume of his voice.

“Just the once, Ty. I promise.” You could tell he was thinking it over in his head.

“Look, Tyler It was the one time. It wasn’t your fault, I was exhausted but I still wanted to give you what you wanted. You deserved it. I didn’t want to ruin it for you. Every other night it’s been great, Tyler. More than great it was just this one time and I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you.”

“Y/n, I wish you would have told me. I don't want you to ever think I’m pressuring you or making you uncomfortable that’s not what this is supposed to be about.” You shook your head.

“Tyler, I have never felt that. I have never felt pressured even that night I didn’t.” He stayed silent for a moment.

“Am I not satisfying you in bed?” Your head shot up and You let out a loud ‘what?’

“Tyler, you’re great in bed. You know that, you’ve never had a problem-” He stepped in between your legs, invading your space and you happily wrapped your arms around his neck to get closer. You had missed him.

“You sure? There’s nothing you’re hiding about our sex life? Anything I can do to improve it?” By now Tyler was kissing your neck and running his hands up and down your thighs and even going as far as sliding one of his hands between your thighs to rub the pajama shorts against you a bit. You groaned and shook your head.

“No, Tyler. I can promise you I have no complaints.” You watched him grin, that bright gleam back in his eyes. He gripped your shorts from your hips and motioned for you to lift up so he could take them off which he did in one motion. You let out a gasp as the cold air hit you; watching Tyler kiss down your body and get on his knees in front of you had you wanting him even more.

“I still owe you one from the other night, are you going to let me say sorry?” You literally whimpered and nodded as he threw your thighs over his shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on your clit. Tyler groaned as he leaned in to trace small patterns on your pussy that had you arching up into his mouth, begging for a bit more.

About three orgasms later you were completely laid back on the kitchen island with Tyler laying on top of you, still inside you with your clothes scattered on the floor. You were trying to catch your breath and Tyler was looking up at you with a smug smile.

“Did that make up for the other night?” You smiled back at him.

“More than you know.”

[lord-explosion-baku]

Socks (For Lack of a Better Title)

Mirio x F!Reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing (??)

A/N: I do not write for Mirio basically because he’s the epitome of sunshine and I don’t think I’d be able to grasp that well enough (he’s too good for me!!!), but I had a small smut idea for him and it’s a very special guy’s birthday. I love them and they deserve the world, but I can’t give them the world so they can take my smut.

“A sub??”

You ignore your other slack-jawed peers sitting around in the same circle you’re in and take a sip out of your bottle, keeping stern eye contact with Mirio Togata, who’s staring at you incredulously because you’ve just deemed him a submissive. You let the frothy liquid slip down your throat and smack your lips, as if to point out that you haven’t said anything too out of this world. You repeat yourself with even more nonchalant confidence with a shrug. “Sub.”

“I think I can kinda see it,” says Kirishima who sits perpendicular to you, but it seems that he’s only trying to back you up because nobody else will. Mirio looks to him, mouth agape, but he keeps his smile present. Pink dusts his cheeks, either from the beer or your accusation. It’s cute and you stand by your point.

“I don’t think so,” Mirio finally chides, taking a swig of his beverage. He looks to his socks, then to you, and you lift a brow.

“Care to dispute my claim?” you say, taking a business-like approach, as if you’re in civil court and your friends around you are the judge and jury.

“Sure,” he says, “I think I’m pretty dominant.”

“Do you have witnesses?” You slap back without thinking, and your friends around you snicker. You don’t actually want to know if Mirio has slept with anyone in the room. In fact, you hope he hasn’t. You and the ex-permeation user have been growing closer if the past couple weeks, and you haven’t been too sure what that closeness entails besides sporadic boba runs and last minute studious cramming. Since the incident that’s left him quirkless, you’ve made it a point to let him know how important he is to you, and you’ve feared that maybe, while trying to be there for him, you’ve made it seem like your relationship is nothing more than platonic. Still, he’s never talked about girls and you’ve never asked, but you’ve mostly hoped that maybe you could be the girl he talks to other people about.

“I’m innocent until proven guilty!”

“That’s exactly my point! You’re innocent. You seem like the kind of guy that would ask permission before doing anything.”

“Is it so bad to be a gentleman?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think you’d have an easier time if someone else held the reigns and guided you.” You pause, trying to think of the perfect thing to equate Mirio to, and your face lights up when you come up with, “a puppy! You’re like a Labrador retriever. Ready to please and receive commands and such…”

“Okay, I can definitely see that,” Kirishima, who’s quickly becoming one of your favorite friends, chimes in.

“A puppy.” Mirio considers this, mouth pushed to the side in that cute way it goes whenever he’s thinking hard about something. He decides not to battle that, instead turning back to you, and asks, “then what do you think you are? A dom?”

Another wave of snickers bounce around the room and you can’t understand them. Is the idea that wild? You don’t think you come off as someone more passive, but until that moment, you hardly considered yourself a dominant either. Now you can, if only to spite your doubtful friends.

“Sure! I would say that I am!”

“What makes you a dom, and me a sub? I’m not doubting you,” Mirio says, though the tone of his voice suggests otherwise, “but I am curious!”

“For one thing, it would mean that the two of you are compatible.” Yaoyorozu, who mostly stays silent during these kinds of discussions, nods to you. You could either kiss her or kill her. She’s dealt with you mooning over Mirio plenty of times in the past, so her adding that in might’ve done a good service for you, planting the idea of you and Mirio together in his head, but you’re now the physical embodiment of the monkey-covering-his-eyes emoji.

“A dom that’s been nursing a beer for the last hour and a half…” you hear someone who’s having a different conversation say. As if your drinking habits have anything to do with you in bed.

“I wanna hear what Ms. Lightweight has to say about this issue.” Mirio grins at you and you can tell that he finds your flushed face amusing. You’re so embarrassed that you can’t even remember your real reason for calling Mirio a sub to begin with!

Throwing any hope of sounding intelligent out the window, you point at Mirio’s feet. “Mr. Togata is wearing socks, your honor.”

The room goes silent. You hear a silent, “socks?” from some faceless individual outside your vision.

You continue, scrambling, “a true dom would make a decision: keep their shoes on or take everything else off. It’s the indecision that says Mirio would’ve done much better if he had someone else instructing him.”

Mirio looks to his socks and you can almost see an exclamation point above his head. You might’ve made a valid point by the looks of it, and he doesn’t say anything more when he sees you wearing your shoes, thank goodness.

Someone says they’re through talking about socks and shoes and the conversation moves to a topic more interesting to the masses. You can’t help but still feel a bit flushed. Two out of five times you look Mirio’s way, you catch him staring at you. Of the remaining three times, he catches you staring at him, and the sixth time both of your eyes meet seemingly at the same time, he smiles. It’s not the same smile he shares with the group for when Denki Kaminari says something stupid. This smile is warm and genuine, with a hint of curiosity.

You make a decision to get up and excuse yourself, explaining the the one beer you nursed throughout the night has made you sleepy. You brush off friendly objections and make your way to the stairs. You don’t go up before looking back at Mirio who holds the same curious expression he did before. You part your lips and climb the stairs. You hope he doesn’t know how embarrassed you are.

Once you’re in your room, you make no rush to get ready for bed. You’re not actually all that sleepy; you just spent too much time around everyone else when you really would rather have just been with Mirio. You think about texting him— maybe he’ll wanna see a movie tomorrow, but as soon as you decide against it, there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Mirio, a sockless Mirio, leaning against your doorframe. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, he says, “I’m here to dispute your claim.”

Your cheeks grow hot. He can’t mean… he can’t really mean… anything by that. Could he? You’re so struck with bewilderment that you don’t even realize you step to the side to let him in until he’s gliding past you. You close the door and hear a surprising click! You did that, but you don't remember making the decision to lock your door.

Your room has never really seemed too small to you, not until you see Mirio standing in the middle of it, talking in all that is you: your thoughtless tchotchkes, your messy bedspread, your various posters, until finally his eyes land on your bookcase.

You don’t know why you’re suddenly so embarrassed about the collection you’ve got going on. You’ve got Paula Fox and Khaled Housseini— books that you could speak endlessly about, though at the bottom shelf, you have books that you read in middle school that you choose to ignore, but haven’t wanted to part with.

You step in front of him with intention, but Mirio is so much bigger than you, and he still manages to read out loud, “Broadway Musicals of the 1980’s?”

Your blood boils. “You wanted to… dispute your claim?” you urge, trying to draw his attention away from anything other than your books, but Mirio isn’t having it, probably sensing your embarrassment. He has to get you back somehow.

“You’ve got… quite a few books about musicals…”

you clear your throat. “Your claim?”

“In a moment— what’s this?” Mirio reaches around you, his arm just barely brushing against your stomach. You swallow harshly, bringing yourself into full defensive mode, because you know what he sees: a bottom shelf book about vampires that you failed to put back on the bottom shelf!

“I love musicals!” You admit, turning to face your bookshelf. You seat his hand back and you’re too aware of how close he is behind you. Your heart flutters, very unlike a dom, but he isn’t allowed to see the look on your face.

“Do you?” He asks with genuine curiosity. It could have easily been something to tease you about, but he doesn’t. Instead, he asks you to talk about your favorites, particularly the ones from that damned book, your lifeline.

You speak. He listens, only asking a few questions about things he’s genuinely curious about. You wonder if he actually came to your room to do anything, or if he just wanted to check in on you... because he’s your friend and a good one at that.

Your breath catches when he snakes his arms around your waist. You feel a chill while he moves his face through your hair to find your neck, and suddenly you’re jelly as lips press against your skin. He kisses the junction between your neck and shoulder, large hands squeezing your sides and you think you’ve lost your sense of sight, the second thing to go after you find yourself unable to speak.

Mirio grins against you, lips brushing farther up your neck. You allow your eyes to close and lean your head to the side, granting him more room for his lips to roam. You try to steady your breathing, but it’s heavy; you’re too obvious and Mirio knows you’re trying not to sigh.

“Keep talking,” he purrs, fanning your ear with warm breath, but it’s not him. At least, it’s not the Mirio you know. This Mirio’s voice is deeper, aggravatingly alluring, dark and husky— a fantasy you didn’t know you had come to life.  “I wanna know more about 42nd Street.”

You’re certain he’s teasing you now and you want to be mad about it, but you can’t. It’s sweet that he’s paying more attention to your words than you are. You could keep talking after you’ve gained some ounce of composure. Hell, you could babble his ear off until the two of you lose the mood and decide to do something else to pass the time. You have board games— you could easily beat him at a game of battleship, but will you truly be winning if things escalated to battleship? Figuratively speaking, you could keep speaking until Mirio eventually trails his hands down past the hem of your pants, but, figuratively speaking, that would mean he’d win. He’d be the dom making a mess of you while you held no power, and you aren’t going to let that happen.

Screw battleship. You had a boat right behind you and you’re going to steer it.

You turn abruptly to face him. This catches him off guard for a split second and you use that to your advantage. You reach up to the back of his head, grab a fist full of his surprisingly soft, not-so-gelled hair, push yourself up against him, and your lips collide with his like stormy waves crashing against unsuspecting beaches. Mirio’s quick to grip onto you from behind, pulling your body flush against his hardened chest. He’s warm and you feel good pressed against him. It’s not fair. It’s not fair because it’s not enough.

You run your tongue along his— he doesn't taste like beer like you expect him to. He tastes faintly like Colgate washed out a couple times, and a more prominent minty flavor. You grin against his lips. He must’ve stopped by his dorm to brush his teeth before he came to you. He wants to taste good for you and he does, but he doesn’t want you to know that he wants you to think he tastes good.

You eye your bed, the goal. Your hands slide down to his shoulders and you add a bit of pressure onto him, trying to push him back all the while you struggle to deepen your kiss is far too apparent. Trying to move Mirio is similar to trying to move a mountain. He pulls away, eyebrows raised, with a complacent grin that tells you he enjoys watching your struggle. You huff.

In a higher, more loving voice, Mirio asks, “what is it, girl?” while cupping your cheek with his large hands, and you vaguely recall comparing him to a Labrador retriever while you tried to explain yourself earlier. You scowl back at the motionless mountain and his grin widens. He brushes his thumb against your pursed lips. “What do you need? You may speak”

Even though you know Mirio is only taking on this contemptuous persona to prove a point, it infuriates you. Frustrated, you leap up at him, wrapping your legs around his torso, and striking. him with another deep, impassioned kiss. He stumbles back a bit, and you think that maybe you could win, but the sturdy Mirio catches himself with one leg, pushes back, and slams you into the book case.

You gasp at the short pain pinching your back, but it’s nothing compared to the sensuous feeling of Mirio’s desperate lips grazing your neck. You moan, one hand holding onto Mirio’s muscular shoulders, while the other grips the second highest level of your bookshelf. Paula Fox falls to the floor, followed by Khaled Housseini, and you couldn’t care less.

You find yourself craving more of his touch, more of his warmth, more of his skin, so you grip onto his jacket and usher it off of him. Mirio holds you up one handedly while his free hand rips through your blouse, the buttons of your shirt scattering to the floor to dance around Fox and Housseini. You knot your fingers into the back of his shirt and whine. In the position you’re in, you won’t be able to get his damn shirt off, and he doesn’t hold that same predicament. He’s able to unclasp your bra with singular, nimble fingers and that joins your buttons, your tattered shirt, and your books on the floor.

“Mirio,” you hiss through your teeth as his own teeth graze one of your puckered buds. He doesn’t stop, but he looks up at you tentatively. He slides his pink tongue out to lav over your sensitive nipple, and your body melts into him.

“Bed,” you say with less ferocity and Mirio complies, bucking you up so that you’re even higher and easier to carry towards your mattress.

Mirio’s knees reach the edge of your bed and you try to use the weight of your body to make the both of you topple over. He laughs in response, seeing through your obvious advances, and swings you around to the bed, but you kick your legs just enough that you land on your feet on your sheets, towering over him.

You feel a little ridiculous standing on your bed when it should be used for much more than that, but you’re finally able to get his shirt over his head. If you weren’t flushed enough before, you certainly are now. Everyone has seen Mirio naked, there is positively no avoiding that, but there’s something different about being right in front of him, feeling the heat of his ripped body so close to yours that make your stomach turn to knots. He chuckles at you because you don’t realize you’re gawking.

“Yeah?” He says, both as a question and an affirmation. Mirio isn’t one to say something as preposterous as, ‘this is the real deal,’ but he says so much more with a simple, ‘yeah.’

Instead of replying with a ‘yeah’ yourself, the easy route, you grab his hand and lead it to your side. His eyes mellow as he runs the back on his pointer finger up and down your body, over to wear the waistline of your jeans. He kisses you right above your naval, then right below it, and your body shivers in response.

“So soft,” he muses so quietly that you can assume it’s not meant for you, rather he’s voicing his thoughts aloud. His fingers go to the button of your jeans, but he pauses, purses his lips, and narrows his eyes.

You begin to fret over the thought that maybe he’s finished. Maybe he’s come to prove a point and just by getting you flustered and topless on your bed, that point has been proven— game over, goodnight, see you never, bye. Then his eyes meet yours, and his brows furrow gently.

“Can I?” He asks, pulling slightly on your jeans.

Mirio Togata is a glorious mountain, a cute Labrador puppy, and a polite gentleman. You find victory in the fact that you were half-right about something, and despite being absolutely charmed by the man who you’re going to let fuck you senseless, you must gloat a little bit.

You bring your thumb and forefinger to his chin, tilt his head up, and say, “I don’t know. Can you?”

Mirio’s eyes flash and you can see the heat of desire in his longing stare. The pools of his eyes grow heavy as he unbuttons your pants, kissing you right above the hem of your underwear, and says, “let me.”

And you do. You let him. You let him ease you down, you let him push your body onto the mattress, and you let him relieve you of your jeans, your bottoms, your doubts, your inhibitions. And it’s fine, and it’s good, because his cheeks feel fantastic brushing against your skin, and his tongue is extraordinary teasing you between your thighs.

Mirio is a gentleman and the way his tongue paints maps against your quivering heat would be charitable, if not for the fact that he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. He hums when you sigh, tentative to every twitch of your body, every sudden gasp you elicit, every surprising tug your tangled fingers give to his beautiful, golden hair. Mirio draws coils deep within your belly, building a tension that’s dark and deep, until he has you arching your back, squeezing your eyes tight, and seizing as pleasure bursts and breaks and floods the entirety of you.

When you’re no longer grasping at the sheets and you’ve gained some sense of composure, you look down to see Mirio practically wagging his tail, ready to receive affirmation— praise for a job well done. You smile and pet his head, probably a little too smug with the picture he portrays even though you’re wordlessly thankful for all that he’s done, and say, “good boy.”

The eager look on his face is replaced by something more mischievous. He brings his lips to your fluttering bliss and gives it a long lick, calling back your senseless shaking.

“M-mirio,” you mewl, shaken and overly-sensitive to his treacherous tongue. “What are you—? I’ve already—!“

His fingers edge the center of your desire while he pushes the rest of his body closer to you. He levels his head with yours, fingers running circles between your thighs, causing you to squirm and pant underneath him.

“Have you?” He asks, even though he knows too damn well that you have. He captures a wistful moan with his lips, tasting your pained pleasure as if it were only an appetizer for a grand feast.

“Yes!” You say breathlessly just as his fingers curl into you. Your mouth hangs open and he watches you lose your mind with delight.

“but you’ve been such a good girl,” he whispers huskily, slowly pumping his fingers, setting you up to blow you away, “and I might not be so innocent.”

He bites into your neck and you claw at his back. It’s only then that you realize he’s lost his pants. You don’t think he realizes he’s slowly grooving against you, erect and throbbing, and your eyes roll back imagining him inside of you.

“I want you…” you whisper as his tongue glides against the shell of your ear.

“Mmm?” His low thrum tickles you in a way that’s both sweet and enticing. That’s what he is… sweet… you want him to know that you think he’s sweet. You want to make him feel good, too, maybe even while demonstrating that you still have some fight in you, despite your shaky hands and uneven breath.

You reach down and gently pull his hands away from your center. You roll on top of him so his back is to your headboard and you look down on his cute, surprised face. You lean down to give him a sweet peck. He sighs against your lips, “you’re beautiful,” so you kiss him again, deeper, memorizing the curve of his lips and relishing the soft groan he gives when you reach around to grab the base of his cock. You pump it, edging yourself closer to him until the two of you are aligned.

The tides of his eyes are heavy with need while his palms smooth over your thighs. You bite your lip and look towards his abs, clenching and unclenching from anticipation.

“Let me?” You say, posing it as a question, when really you know he wants it just as badly as you do. His answer comes when his hands grip tightly onto your hips and he pushes you onto him.

You roll your hips, wielding a steady rhythm, only allowing Mirio to keep shallow and slow thrusts as you get used to both his length and his girth. He’s breathy while the head of his cock accepts most of the attention; he’s sensitive and you can tell by how he shudders every time you sink a few centimeters lower on him.

“Please,” he rasps, and you don’t realize it until you see his brows furrowed above desperate azure eyes scanning over you that you’re torturing him and he’s letting you. Your hands cover his and guide them up and down, picking up your pace until you’re finally hitting his hilt.

You moan, loud enough for anyone in the next room over to hear, though you’re relieved by the fact that most of your friends are probably still downstairs, playing the same game that’s lead you and Mirio here.

Your name teases his lips, lost to a mixture of swears and grunts. The yes, god, please, fuck, you feel incredible, god’s fill the room just as much he fills you. You groove against him, skillfully trying to keep hold of the reigns, but Mirio’s strong body has more control over you even while he’s the one against the sheets.

Mirio’s large enough that you feel a stretch and the thought sends jubilant waves cascading throughout your body. He thrusts into you, making you cry out in glee and pleasure while bouncing on his shaft. Sweat wedges between your motor bodies and you don’t care, because  it’s wonderful; you feel him. You coil around him, nails imprinting tiny crescents into his muscular back while his lips roam your collar bone, your chest, your breasts, until they find yours, and he kisses you like it’s his god-given right.

You’re in ruins when he tangles his hands in your hair and pulls your face away, still close, but not close enough that you can kiss him once more, just enough that you feel his panting fanning your face. He eyes hold you steady— you don’t think you could look away even if you wanted to— and tears prick your eyes when you’re swarmed with the realization of what those beautiful, round eyes hold: adoration.  

Mirio loves you, and he’s displayed that not only with your ambiguous friendship, but with the way he’s handled you on this singular night. Even while trying to prove a point (he’s the dom), he’s shown restraint. Even when he slammed you against the bookcase, he could very much have hurt you more than that simple pinch, but his arms guarded you and kept you safe and still.

Hell, he could have ripped your pants off at any second of the night, but he wanted to make sure that you wanted the same.

Mirio loves you and he’s displaying that now through his touches, through his whispers, through his liquid eyes that show much more than fiery lust and circumstantial desire. They show care, and devotion, and reverence. You want to tell him you feel the same, but you feel a tugging pulse from your belly.

“Mirio,” you choke out and just as you feel a jolt, he stutters inside of you.

He grasps your sides and flips you onto your back. He says your name likes it’s a hymn as he hammers into you, praising you with loving kisses and nips. You squeeze around him, feeling the surge build up and spill out. You can’t let go of him while your body sings pleasure and gratification in energetic waves flowing up from your toes to your shoulders— overwhelming ecstasy taking you over.

He spills onto your sweat covered stomach, bowing his head against your shoulder. Your fingers tickle his sweat covered back and you coo at him, happy. He lets his body hit the mattress next to you and he stares at your body like he can’t believe what’s happened.

“You-” he breathes, but shakes his head, deciding that whatever he was going to say can’t amount to what he’s feeling.

“You,” you agree, sinking into your pillow. You’re not sure that you can believe what happened either, only the evidence lays out clearly through the tingles in your fingers and the mess on your stomach.

He tries again. “That was—“ but he’s at a loss for words. You brush his hair back and kiss him. He wraps his arm around your torso and brings you into a warm, already-too-familiar embrace. “Should I get like a towel or something?”

“No,” you say, “not yet. I’m happy here. I’ll probably just shower anyway.”

“Can I join you in that shower?”

You snicker. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Hey.” You feel him grinning against your shoulder. Then, he laughs. “Don’t forget to take your socks off before the shower.”

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter@unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix@smbody-stole-mycar-radio@zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen@psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello 

[catsandstrawberries]

I Might Like You

Pairing: Jimin x reader 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Warnings: Ice play, smut, swearing, oral (F receiving), fingering, the end gets really fluffy cause its Disney, penatrative sex w/o protection (use a condem kids), Dom Jimin, Sub reader

Summary: You didn’t mean to set your sister off. You never wanted to argue with her. But how were you supposed to know she was going to freeze your kingdom. You chase after her in hopes of bringing her, and summer back, only to run into an iceman, who might just let you ride his reindeer.

The Disney Project 

"Take me." I blanked as I looked at the cocky smirk on the blond boy's face. 

"Not in a sexual way of course. I wouldn't, well I might have sex with you, maybe-but no." 

I let out an aggravated groan and looked the boy in the eyes. 

"I need you to take me up the North Mountain, blondie." 

The boy cocked an eyebrow at me. A stranger who I knew nothing about, besides the fact he knew the way up the mountain where my sister was, and that he was blonde.

"The names Jimin, beautiful. And the North Mountain's a danger zone with the onslaught of the sudden winter, no one would survive." 

"Well, I know how to stop this winter, and I need to get up that mountain." 

The man, Jimin, chuckled at me with a boyish smile. His body shaking from my words. 

"And how are you going to stop the Queen, stranger?" 

I didn't want to do this, but I had no choice if I wanted to get up that mountain. 

"Because I'm Princess (y/n), and that Queen is my sister."  

----------------

Jimin looked at me astounded, the reins in his hands loosening slightly as my words ran through his hands. 

"So, you're telling me that you were about to marry a man you just met?!" 

The reindeer that pulled the sled in front of us huffed at Jimin, the two of us not appreciating the rise in his voice. 

"Yes, keep up. Then she lashed out at me and poof! Frozen icicles blasted from her fingertips-" 

"No, no I got that part. Surprisingly magical ice powers aren't the strangest thing I've heard tonight." I gazed at the stranger, analyzing the woolen long-sleeved shirt and trousers he wore, definitely prepared to stay out in the cold and not die of hyperthermia. Jimin looked around my age, maybe a year older but nothing significant. His blond hair swept to the side and some snow flurries stuck to his roots, maybe I would invite him to my wedding. 

"You got engaged to a random dude named Hands?" 

"Hans." 

"I'm not buying it. You just met, he's probably a serial killer or has some weird foot fetish." 

"Excuse me! Let me tell you something Jimin. The night I met Hans was magical, and we fell in love. Love is the one thing that has zero complications, and Hans and I have something special. We clicked." 

"You read too many books." 

"What's wrong with reading books?" 

"I'm just saying, I bet you fell for him as soon as you saw his curly hair and puppy dog eyes." I scoffed at Jimin's words, "love isn't supposed to be easy. From what you told me, he sounds way too easy." I turned towards the boy a scowl evident on my face. "What does a stinky, smelly, mountain man know about love? Have you ever even kissed a girl before?" 

Jimin smirked and winked flirtatiously at me, 

"I've done a lot more than kiss people with this tongue." 

Jimin licked his lips as if to prove his point and I sent him a glare to hide the color on my cheeks. 

"Well at least my only friend isn't a reindeer, and at least I don't try to give marriage advice as an unmarried man who's also a strang-" 

Jimin suddenly appears in front of me, his gloved hand covering my mouth, but his eyes weren't on me but the dark forest behind us. 

The reindeer slowed to a stop and Jimin rose from his crouch to a stand, his palm sliding off my face in the process. 

Jimin suddenly flipped around and yelled to his reindeer. 

"Chim, go!" 

The reindeer, Chim apparently, took off running while Jimin fiddled with a pair of matches. 

"What's wrong?" 

Just as I asked, gleaming golden eyes started to peek out from behind the dark wintery abyss, harsh growls filling the air as the pounding of feet bounced off the snowy floor. 

Wolves. 

The predators neared the sled, teeth shinning against the white snow as they attempted to chomp at us. 

Jimin who had been fiddling with the matches finally lit up the torch at his side, waving it in the direction of the wolves, as if it would stop them from attacking. 

"Stay down," Jimin growled at me as the wolves narrowed in on us. 

"What? No! I want to help!" 

Jimin kicked one of the mammals harshly as it flung its body at us, 

"Sorry princess, but I don't particularly trust your judgment." 

"Excuse me?" 

"Who marries a man they just met? Let alone a man named hands?" Jimin suddenly fell forward as the sled hit a bump and I lunged forward, grabbing him by the back of the shirt before he could fall off the sled. 

"His name is Hans," I grumbled as my arms strained to pull him back to safety. 

Before he could thank me Jimin wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me tight to his waist, 

"Hey!" 

I attempted to push him off, but he only tightened his grasp before throwing me at Chim. I gasped in shock as I landed on the reindeer's back, eyes widening at the absence of ground in front of us. The only way we'd survive is if Chim jumped the cliff to the other plot of land that had to be at least 30 feet. 

Jimin's body slid behind me as the growling of the wolves increased in my eardrums, 

"Jump Chim!" 

My insides felt as if they were doing summersaults as we lingered in the air, but almost as quickly as Chim left the ground he was back on the solid earth. I released a breath I hadn't realized I had held in and turned to find that Jimin had cut the sled from Chim's reigns, the wooden contraption left to the wolves on the other side of the cliff. 

Wait-Jimin.

"Jimin!" I shouted, jumping off the reindeer and peering over the edge of the cliff to find him gripping to the edge for his life. The drop below was deep enough to kill him, even with the snow-packed into the ground. I grabbed Jimin by the wrist and hauled him back up onto the snow with helpful shoves from Chim, falling to the earth with a pant as soon as I realized we were both safe. 

"Not too bad for a princess, huh?" I chuckled as I heaved my body up from the snow, brushing away the flakes as I stood face to face with Jimin. 

"I've seen worse." 

----------------

Jimin and I continued on foot until nightfall and despite the ache in my legs and the continuous chill running down my spine, I refused to stop. I needed to find my sister. 

"We should settle down for the night-" 

"No." 

The sound of Jimins crunching footsteps stopped and I turned slightly. 

"You're no good to the queen if you're dead." 

I tightened my fist, as Jimin redirected Chim towards the smoke pilling into the air, a sign of a tavern that would house us for the night. 

But even as we turned from the path of the north mountain, guilt rose in my lungs, and the image of my sister alone and scared ran through my head. She had been alone for so long, trapped in her room, to protect us, and I was the one who pushed her too far. 

"Hey," Jimin said softly, suddenly in front of me, 

"We leave at first light tomorrow, we'll find her." I nodded and followed blindly as Jimin led us towards warmth. 

The inside of the tavern was filled with large, shouting men, pouring down drink after drink and fumbling drunkenly over one another. 

"Stay close," Jimin muttered while a man in the far corner puked into another man's pants. 

I didn't need to be told twice. 

The man behind the bar had a large mustache and his eyes seemed to bulge over when he saw Jimin before he burst out laughing. 

"Park if it isn't the ice-man. How's your business doing in this weather?" The man fell forward as if his joke was the funniest thing he'd heard in days. 

"Ha ha. We need a room." Jimin replied dryly slamming down a set of coins onto the table. The man peeked over Jimin's shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows at the two of us, 

"lucky for you we only have a single left." I stiffened behind Jimin and sent the man a disgusted snarl. Jimin sighed but took the key, leading me away from the singing drunk men and towards an empty room. 

"I can sleep on the floor," I muttered once I noticed the small bed while Jimin grimaced next to me. 

"Trust me you wouldn't want to." Jimin sent me a 'don't ask' look and with a drop of my shoulders I sat on the edge of the bed, gaze falling to the outside world beyond the window. A flurry of snowflakes floating in the air. 

"Hey, stop biting your lip." Jimins thumb fell to my bottom lip and lingered there while he kneeled in front of me. 

"I might be a sweaty, smelly, mountain man, but I'm one hell of a listener." A small smile cracked across my lips but my gaze quickly fell to my hands. 

"It's all my fault. Ever since I can remember she was locked in her room, and I was locked in the castle. The one day I have with her, with the world, I pushed her with the stupid marriage. Maybe you were right, maybe true love isn't real." 

Jimin took my hands gently and moved to the bed rather than kneeling on the floor. 

"I didn't say that. I just think that you should know someone for longer than 24 hours before you get engaged." He cracked a genuine smile but started to frown at my quiet form. 

"I can help you forget." My head snapped up towards him, his lids lowered and a seductive smile crossing over his face. 

"No strings attached, no 'I love you's' or proposals. Just something to let you forget. If you want too." The flush spread over my cheeks and neck, and I suddenly found it unbearably hot in the small room. 

"You promise you'll still help me find my sister tomorrow." 

He nodded, the seductive smile faltering for a serious look. 

"I promise, who else would pay for my new sled." 

To avoid embarrassing myself I decided to take the first step and lean forward, rather aggressively, but Jimins warming hands on my body were quick to ease my nerves. The softness of his lips melting away all my anxieties as he tilted his head, tongue pocking out against my lower lip. 

I moaned into the kiss, his hands sliding up and down my ribs as I melted into his mouth, my tongue hesitantly prodding against his until he sloppily pulled away, teeth grazing against my bottom lip in a gentle bite. 

"I thought you said to stop biting my lip." 

Jimin smirked, "I didn't say anything about me not using my teeth." 

I chuckled as he leaned me down onto the mattress, "pretty good for an ice-man." 

Jimin leaned back at that, his mouth spreading in a wild grin while I leaned up on my forearms, an eyebrow-raising in question. 

"I'll be right back, don't move." Jimin practically sprinted out of the room while I fumbled in the sheets in a haze. Running over the kiss in my mind, over and over again, the really, really good kiss. 

He kissed better than Hans. 

I didn't even consider the thought that he might be leaving on Chim, my head running wild with what he would do when he got back, what he would do to me. The door creaked open and my heart fluttered at the sight of his blond hair. 

"Keep your eyes up, princess." My body shuddered at his commanding tone and before I knew it he was hovering over me, trapping me under his body as his kisses traveled to my neck, fingers fumbling with the string of my dress. 

"Off." 

I quickly followed his demand and watched as he took off his shirt, his muscles gleaming against his sweaty skin. He paused as he took in the sight of my top half, his hands faltering and mouth lurching forward to take each of my nipples into his mouth, his teeth grazing against each one before releasing them with a loud pop. 

"What did you get?" I asked breathlessly as he dragged my leggings down, the sight alone of his blonde hair peeking out from between my legs enough to make me squeeze my thighs together. 

He ticked his tongue in disapproval and harshly spread my legs open, hands smothering down the skin of my thighs as they trembled with anticipation. 

"You'll find out. Now, show me your pearls princess." His tongue flicked out and he let out a satisfying sigh as he dragged the strings of my underwear down my legs before flicking it behind him. 

"You smell so fucking good, I'm gonna ravish you, princess." 

I flinched as a finger stroked curiously at my folds, gathering some of the wetness that had already peaked through before pushing it in further. I groaned, my head falling backward as he added another finger, his thumb rubbing figure eights on my clit while he hummed in approval. 

"Look at you, falling apart at just my fingers. Imagine my cock in you or my tongue." My hips bucked up at his words and just as the feeling in my stomach started to coil his fingers were gone. 

"Jimin-Ah!" My words got lost on my tongue as his hands slid under my thighs, gripping at my ass as he shoved his face into my pussy. His tongue gliding over my clit before thrusting into my hole and pulsing in and out. My hands struggled to hold on to the sheets as he hummed against me, his tongue lavishing over my clit before pulling away. It was too hot in this room, way too hot. 

As if Jimin could read my thoughts my back was curving and hands gripping to his hair as something cold, and wet was pushed against my clit. Rubbing at all of the right places while the ice cube immediately started to melt against my heat.  

"Jimin," I moaned as his cold fingers pushed a single ice cube inside of me, his warm tongue against my clit contracting with the sharp cold inside of me. 

"Just a little longer," Jimin muttered, pulling away as he messed with his pants and pulled out his glorious cock. Curved slightly, not incredibly long but girthy, a vein trailing the underside of his penis, I wondered how it would feel against my tongue. 

Jimin knocked me out of my thoughts as his lips met mine once again. 

"Fuck (y/n)," he murmured as his head poked the inside of my pussy, my walls contracting as he pushed further inside. He moaned into my shoulder once he filled me up fully, waiting patiently until I adjusted, and it wasn't long before I was bucking my hips to tell him to move. 

Jimin pulled back before pounding forward hard, his hands curling into the bedsheets against mine as we groaned and moaned. My body withering under his as he hit the spot that made starts appear in my eyes, 

"Ah-right there. Shit." I hissed out, 

"I won't last much longer," Jimin growled out, one of his hands sneaking between our two bodies to rub at my clit, pushing me over the edge as I let out a silent scream, my legs shaking with the after waves as he shortly followed in my footsteps, liquid cream leaking out of me as he pulled out with a groan. 

"Shit, you're amazing princess." He muttered just as the lights started to go out around me, darkness succumbing into my tired limbs.  

----------------

The next morning we didn't talk about the sex or the fact that he washed my clothes and cleaned me up after I passed out. We just kept walking till reaching the rocky mountain leading to where my sister would be. 

"Fuck," Jimin muttered as he turned from the mountain to the pack tied onto Chim's back. 

"I only have one rope, and you don't know how to climb mountains." 

Before he had even finished his sentence I was pulling myself up against the rock, feet anchoring into foot like holds to support my weight. 

"You are going to kill yourself." 

"I'll be fine." 

I ignored his protesting grunt while I tried to find another foothold. 

"Listen (y/n), people who come to the north mountain are usually running away from something, and the Queen seems as if she doesn't want to be found." 

I furrowed my brows as I hiked my body further up against the rock, 

"Well, what are you running away from?" There was a pause before he replied dryly, 

"a payable job apparently." 

Before I could reply, the rock my left hand was holding onto suddenly cracked, and before I could shout I collided with a warm body, his arms wrapping around me bridal style so I didn't hit the ground. 

"See, I told you I would be fine," I said breathlessly, nervously patting his chest and jumping out of his arms before I could think too much about how strong his arms were or how they flexed when he caught me. I directed my attention away from him, a bright reflection catching my eye and upon further examination, my whole body shuddered with anticipation, she built a fucking ice castle. 

"We found her." I breathed out, a smile breaking out on my face. 

I bounded up the ice made stairs, treading carefully so I wouldn't slip, but as soon as I reached the door all of my hesitations came back. 

"You should stay here, last time I introduced my sister to a boy..." 

"No, you're right. Wouldn't want her to find out I fucked her little sister-" 

"Jimin!" 

The boy chuckled before sitting on the steps, eyes glazing over as he examined the ice and mumbled something about workmanship. 

This was it, I was going to bring my sister home, no matter what. 

----------------

Long story short, things didn't go exactly as planned but eventually, we were able to bring her home and my sister was able to lift the frozen spell and bring summer back.

Everything was right, except for one thing, 

"Hey blondie, aren't you forgetting something?" Jimin smiled as I jumped excitedly in front of him, though his happiness didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Am I getting an invitation to your wedding?" 

I frowned at that and shook my head, "actually, I called it off with Hans." 

"Oh." 

"Close your eyes," I whispered, taking his hand and dragging him towards my surprise while Chim followed, his hooves clucking along against the pavement. "Surprise!" I shouted as he opened his eyes to see a brand new sled with a bright red bow on the top. For the first time since I met Jimin, he suddenly seemed nervous, unsure of himself. 

"Thank you." He rubbed nervously at his neck, "so I know I said no strings attached, and I meant it, really. But the sex was good, great-but that's not the reason I'm asking because even though I've known you for like a week things started happening and I want to get to know you more-" 

"Jimin." 

His stuttering stopped and he looked up at me, unsureness riddled in his orbs. 

"I know we said no I love you's. But, I might like you. Wanna start there?" 

Jimins eyes widened and a gentle smile spread across his face,

"I might like you too." 

Chim grumbled behind us and pushed Jimin forward, his head butting against his back as he fell into me. Jimins glare at the animal soon disappeared when I reached up and connected our lips, a soft sigh escaping my mouth at the feeling. 

"Thank god you didn't marry hands." 

I didn't have the heart to correct him. 

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four: The Final Warning

Word Count 4.5k

Warnings: some smut, slight angst, mentions of brutality, fluff in between

When you locked eyes with the love of your life for the first time in weeks, you felt whole again. It was like a huge piece of you has been missing these past weeks and now that you are whole again, you feel the power rush through your veins. 

Daario "Wait..so this is your husband?" He looks at you, pointing to Ivar. 

Ivar "And is that a problem?" He says, walking closer to Daario. 

Daario "No, of course not-"

"Yes, Naharis..this is my husband, Ivar Lothbrok." Ivar looks at you, almost surprised that he did not hear Ivar the Boneless come from your mouth. But then again, he isn't surprised at all. He knows that you respect and love him more than anyone ever has. 

Daario "Lothbrok..Hvitserk's brother-"

Ivar "I am me, myself and I..this is who I am." He says with open arms. Daario, does not know what to say. So you take it upon yourself and walk up to your love and lean into him for warmth. 

"My love, can we go inside, it is getting cold?"

Ivar leans down and kisses your forehead softly, "Of course, my love. Come on, let's go." He takes one look at Daario before leading you into the palace. Hvitserk stays outside with Daario to make sure that the young girl stays away from you. 

Daario "How the hell did he get here?"

Hvitserk "What? Are you stupid?" Daario does not respond, "His horse!" He points at Ivar's horse and carriage. 

Daario "He said "thank gods..I made it" what does he mean by that?"

Hvitserk "Us vikings have these visions that we get pretty frequently. They foretell our futures. Whether it be near or far into the future, we can see it. Good and the bad."

Daario "So you are telling me that Ivar had a vision of the young girl, killing Y/n?" 

Ubbe "On the contrary," he says, coming up from behind his brother, "I had the vision."

Daario "huh..and you are?"

Ubbe "Ubbe Lothbrok, and you are?"

Daario "Daario Naharis, the leader here."

Hvitserk snickers, "Barely a leader Naharis." He let his head fall but he did not let his smirk fade. 

Ubbe "I see. So you will be watching over this place when the queen is gone aye?"

Daario "That is right."

Ubbe "Mm, good. Then I am glad that I could come and meet you in person before Y/n returned home to us." He says as he gets into Daario's face, "I will say this once, if you do anything to cause destruction or chaos to this kingdom, I will make sure that you pay for ruining the kingdom that my sister is trying so hard to repair. And secondly, if you ever do anything to harm or cause my sister any ill will, I will make sure that whatever you did to her, I will do the same to you but you won't make it out alive, are we clear?" Daario simply nods, "Good." He sniffles and pats his brother on the shoulder before leaving the two men outside.

Daario looks at a smiling Hvitserk, "Are all of you this friendly?"

Hvitserk "Oh, poor Naharis.." he walks closer to him so that he can whisper in his ear, "you just met the nicest one out of all of us." He pats Daario on the back before leaving him outside with his thoughts. And those thoughts, well, let's just say that he is more scared tonight than he has been in his entire life. He takes a look around him and sees Wessex flooding with Viking warriors. He gulps and rushes inside the palace, locking his chamber door behind him.

When you were finally alone with Ivar, you practically collapsed in his arms. He did the same, you both just fell to the floor and held each other so hard that you could hear Ivar's armor start to bend. 

Ivar "Oh, my heart-"

"I have missed you so much." You look into his eyes and they were the bluest of blues. 

Ivar "I have missed you more-"

"I did not know that I was so weak without you until I saw you.." his eyes sparkled, "When I saw you, it was like my life source just fled back into my body!" You force a giggle to lighten up the conversation. "You are my everything Ivar, you know that..yes?"

Ivar "Yes, my love. How could I forget your love for me? Y/n, when you were gone, I was nothing but a crippled man sitting on his throne." Your smile fades, "I need you just as much as you need me, my sweet. We are nothing without each other..I think that time has proven that, no?"

"No, you are right Ivar. I should not have stayed here this long, I'm sor-"

Ivar "No no no, do not apologize for being in your own kingdom Y/n. This is your kingdom, your first home. I expected you to stay as long as you did. But I am just glad that I have you back in my arms."

"You are my home Ivar. I am home when I am in your arms." He holds back tears and kisses you over and over again. Once his lips are on your own, the spark in your soul reignited. When your lips part, he smiles and rubs small circles on your cheeks, making you blush from the affection. 

"I should say good night to my people, would you like to join me?"

Ivar "Of course, my queen." You both help each other up off of the floor and make your way down stairs, where you find Hvitserk and the rest of your people. You smile when your eyes lock to Hvitserk's, and once he had your attention, he silenced everyone. 

"Today was eventful to say the least. But tonight was a surprise! For one, I almost died..again." you let your head fall but for only a second, "But thankfully, I am still here because of the Gods and because of Daario." He smiles and nods, "Thank you for saving my life tonight." 

Daario "Always." He shouted just loud enough. Ivar did not like that, no. Nor does he like the way he stares at you from head to toe. That will be discussed tomorrow. 

"And another surprise happened on this night, my beloved husband and king of Kattegat, has arrived!" Your people started to clap, making Ivar smile and bow a tad. "With that being said, I will be leaving Wessex in two days time. I belong with my husband, where he goes, I go. He is my true home." He takes your hand in his own when he hears you say those words to your people. His heart practically explodes in his chest. Hvitserk too, smiles as he saw his brother smile be so genuine. 

"However, if any of you wish to speak to me, one on one, before I leave for Kattegat, please let me know. I will gladly talk to any of you. Good night everyone." They all shout their good night's and watch you and Ivar walk back to your chambers. Hvitserk walks up and makes his way to your chambers as well, waiting for his hug. 

Hvitserk "Can't go to bed without my hug." He says with his long arms out for you to wrap your arms around his waist. Ivar smiles as he takes off his armor and made his way to the bed.

"Love you so much Hvitserk, thank you for protecting me tonight. I swear, I say that everyday, for that I apologize."

Hvitserk chuckles, "Do you ever not apologize, kitten?"

"Mmm, habit I suppose." You say as you look up at him. 

Hvitserk kisses your head, "Bad habit to have love. I am glad that I am able to protect someone that I love. Now get some sleep, both of you."

Ivar "Good night, my brother."

Hvitserk "Good night."

"Sweet dreams." He smiles and walks out of the door and you shut it behind him. Ivar is in bed now, just waiting for you to be in his chest. He watches and admires your figure as you undress yourself. You know that he is watching because you can feel his eyes on your skin. 

"Like what you see, do you?" 

Ivar chuckles, "Like is not the word."

"Then what word would you use?"

Ivar thinks for a moment, "You are my weakness, my love. As soon as I see you, my desire for you is instant." You can feel your body temperature rise and the lust you crave is getting unbearable. 

"So you desire me right now, hmm?" You say as you climb in bed, inches away from his face. "Even though I am as big as a whale?" He does not laugh like you do, he just grabs your face and holds you in the palm of his hands. 

Ivar "You are carrying a beautiful human being in your core, Y/n. This is a miracle of life. A life that was expecting to not make it after all that you have gone through during this pregnancy. So do not call yourself a whale, you are the most beautiful woman that I have ever laid my eyes on...with child and without child. You are my wife, my queen, my every-" you crash your lips onto his before he could finish his sentence. He breathes in deeply with hunger, waiting for your lips to part so that his tongue can make its entrance. He gently rolls you onto your back so that he can be the dominant one. 

Ivar "Now let me show you, just how much I have missed my queen." You breathe heavily with the anticipation. You watch him lower his body down to your core and your eyes roll back at first contact. Your fingers intertwine with his unbraided hair as he devours you. Once you reach your climax, your energy is completely spent. Ivar knew that your climax hit you hard, maybe too hard. So once he rises from his position, he rushes to your side before your head hits the pillow. He held you close and watched you fall asleep in his arms. 

Ivar "Sleep well, my love. Tomorrow will be a good day." He whispers to you as he rubs your head, easing you into a soft and deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Ivar awoken with you in his arms. He does not know why, but when he awoke, he feared that you would not be there. He has realized that he has always had that fear ever since you were taken. But to his much relief, you are fast asleep in his arms. He kisses your skin, waking you in the kindest and most romantic way possible. 

"Mmm." You hum, half asleep. 

Ivar "Good morning, my sweetheart."

"It wasn't a dream after all.."

Ivar "It was real. I am here." Your eyes open then, looking at your handsome husband. 

"I am so glad." He reaches down to kiss your lips before crawling his way out of bed. "It is early, stay in bed."

Ivar "Mmm, no can do."

"Why?"

Ivar "I have some business to take care of."

"This is Wessex, Ivar. Not Kattegat."

Ivar "Oh I am aware.."

"Then what business?" Ivar looks at you and you knew instantly by his facial expressions. His face can tell you stories that words do not necessarily have to be said. "This early Ivar?"

Ivar "Earlier the better, my love."

"Fine.."

Ivar "Hey," he struggles his way to you, "I am doing what any husband should do. I am sure that Hvitserk already had a talk to him, huh?"

"Of course he did...multiple times."

Ivar "My point has been made then. I will find you when I am done, I promise." 

"Love you." You say as you watch him walk towards the door.

Ivar "So much." He said, then closed the door. You sink your body back down into the mattress for a minute or two before forcing yourself to get out of the warmth. You decide to leave your hair down today, with very little braids. Your dress of choice is a no sleeve one with dragon scales on the breasts. It is a very beautiful one at that. But the last time you wore this dress, you were not with child, still you wear it. It is tight but it is durable. You look down at your belly and hold yourself and sway your legs from side to side, while humming a lullaby. You can't stop thinking about the day that you will get to welcome your's and Hvitserk's daughter into this world. How beautiful she will be and how strong of a woman that she will become. She will make you proud, you just know it. And one day, you will find her dragon eggs so that she can have her own magical creatures. You have to do that task for your daughter, she deserves this wonderful gift, the only gift that your father gave you that gave your life new meaning. Then, when she is old enough, you and Hvitserk will give them to her as a birthday gift. Just as your father did for you, but you will do it with love, not as a strategy. 

"You will live a long and happy life, my child. I promise." Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" You shouted. You watch the door open and a familiar figure appears in the doorway. 

Hvitserk "Good morn- oh my.." he says once he took in your appearance. 

"What is it?"

Hvitserk "Sorry I wasn't expecting you to be up this early..you just look so beautiful." You let your head fall to hide your blush. 

"Thank you, Hvit."

Hvitserk "Of course, Kitten. How did you sleep hmm?" He said whilst pulling you into his chest. 

"Very well, and you?"

Hvitserk "Probably not as good as you but it was not the worst sleep I've had."

"You did not sleep well?"

Hvitserk "Well not extremely well. I didn't have you in my arms for the first time in weeks, that's hard to readjust to." You nod because you understand completely. But instead of responding, you just look back down to your belly. Hvitserk gently grabs your growing belly and leans down to give it a bunch of kisses. You giggle at how much his scruffies tickle. 

Hvitserk "How is our little princess, hmm?"

"She is well. I was singing to her a moment a-" you pause when she kicks inside of you, taking your breath away from how strong the kick was. Hvitserk had his hand right where she kicked, and felt the brute force with his own hands. 

Hvitserk "Gods...are you alright?!"

"Uhm, fine. Just fine..wasn't expecting that is all."

Hvitserk "That was the biggest kick I have ever felt!"

"Me as well. She must be getting antsy..she must want out just as much as we do." He forces a chuckle and kisses where she kicked. 

Hvitserk "Hey little one," he whispers to her, "Don't kick momma so hard, aye? She is fragile-"

"Hey.."

Hvitserk laughs, "okay, she is not fragile but she is special and you need to take it easy on her alright?" He pauses to kiss it again, "Everyone is excited to meet you, little one. Your mother and I especially. We love you so so much." He rests his head on you for a second, just in case she kicked again or to hear her heartbeat for a little while. Your eyelids get heavier as Hvitserk rests on you, and you hold his head on your belly. This is one of Hvitserk's favorite things to do, ever since you started growing, he would rest his head on you and awaits to hear the heart or wait for a kick. You remember his reaction when he felt the first kick. His eyes got big and his smile formed from ear to ear. Once it sunk in, he cried tears of joy, just as you did. 

Hvitserk "You here?"

"Mm, yes of course. Just adoring this moment, aren't you?"

Hvitserk "Every moment with you, I adore. But I must say, I am going to miss these moments with you when our little one is born."

"I will miss this too. But when she is here, we can hold her together, play with her, teach her together. Isn't that exciting?!"

Hvitserk "Very exciting, love-"

"My queen, what would you like for breakfast?" A maiden asked. 

"Oh sweet, it does not matter to me. Whatever you feel like cooking, I am sure that it will be delicious like always." She smiles and nods before leaving the room once again. 

You sigh, catching Hvitserk's attention. 

Hvitserk "What is it?"

"Ivar..he is going to talk to Daario."

Hvitserk "Is that where he has gone?"

"Yes."

Hvitserk "Should we go find them, or wait it out?"

"If we hear screaming, we go towards the scream.." he smirks, "but until then, let's just go eat hmm?"

Hvitserk "Sounds good to me kit." You smile and lead the way to the dining hall.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ivar asks your people to find Daario for him, to make it easier on himself. So while he waited, he was thinking of how he would talk to this man. Will he be kind, will he be harsh? We shall all find out together. 

"King Ivar.." he got up from his seat and started walking towards the maiden when he saw a man in the doorway, "Leader Daario is here."

Ivar "Uh huhh.." he says as he pauses right before him. 

Daario nods, "You wished to see me, Ivar?"

Ivar "Yes, please..would you join me?" He nods and walks where Ivar pointed. He waits for Ivar to stand in front of him to speak. 

Daario "So what is it that you wanted to speak about?"

Ivar chuckles, "My wife, of course!" He said in a high pitched voice to be dramatic. "You see, I have only been here since last night and I can already hear your thoughts, Naharis." Daario's mouth opens and he is stunned by what he is hearing. 'How can he know my thoughts' he asked himself. 

Ivar "I am aware that my brother Hvitserk has already spoken to you, yes?"

Daario "Yes-" he clears his throat and tries again, "Yes. He has, on a few occasions."

Ivar "Mm. That is good, hmm?" Daario does not answer, "I suppose that my brother made it very clear that if you ever did any harm to her or this kingdom, well..you know you would not survive..don't you, Naharis?"

Daario gulps, "I bet that I would not-"

Ivar "Even if you ran, we would hunt you down until we found you in a ditch somewhere. Starving, dehydrated, clinging to life..but then that is when you would really suffer-"

Daario "I get it, Ivar. I have told your brother's that that is never my intent to harm y/n or this kingdom. I am simply here to guide, nothing else." Ivar's nose rises in a cocky way. 

Ivar "Hmm. But that is not completely true, is it?" He does not answer, "Everyone who can see, can see your fantasies about my wife."

Daario "I will admit to you, I have had thoughts but that was before my life got threatened every day.."

Ivar "I see," he said with a smirk, "but you have to take things from our perspective, aye? Picture this Naharis, you are married to Y/n and she goes back to her home and leaves you to stay in your own kingdom, and she writes letters to you stating, your brother is very weary of the man that is supposed to lead her people. Lastly, your other brother tells you of his vision where you lose everything that you have ever loved. And once you get here, you see your wife but then you see the man behind her, staring her down like she is a fresh meal." He said with anger and hatred in his voice. Daario knows that he is not wrong. He has very strong feelings for you, to which he can never act upon because that would be a death wish. 

Daario sighs, "I see your point, and my sincere apologies." Ivar nods, "You know..you're not as evil as people think you are, Ivar."

Ivar snickers evily, "No, I'm much worse." He said and then started to walk towards him even closer. "If you find me kind, think twice Naharis. This is your warning from me, you have been warned by my brothers, so this was my own warning. My wife is a kind and gentle soul who is the most powerful queen that you will ever bare witness to. She is a mother of dragons, carrying my child. Shall I go on..?"

Daario "No-"

Ivar "Shh…" he puts his hand in the air for Daario to silence himself, "Someone is watching us." He turns around and find you coming into the room with Hvitserk and two guards close behind.

"Hello, beloved. How has you two's talk been going?"

Ivar "Ahh my sweet, very well I think." You smile and then look at up at Daario who looks like he is about to projectile vomit.

Daario "Yes, very well, my queen."

"Good, that is good to hear. Now since my boys have talked to you, I figured that it would be my place to do the same-"

Daario "Are you serious-?!"

Hvitserk "Let your queen speak Naharis!" He shouted. 

"Look, I mean no ill will towards you. Men like you are all the same: eager for power, perverted in the eyes of women, and puts himself before others..but that last one is not quite true for you, Daario. You treat my people very well, and I appreciate that very much, I do. But I see your eyes linger from woman to woman in this kingdom, one being myself and for that, I cannot allow. Sadly, I cannot be two places at once so here is my warnings: if you ever harm anyone in this kingdom, whether that being violently or sexually, I will have you skinned alive. If you ever endanger my people, I will throw you in the darkest, most horrid kingdom to my knowledge. I may be kind to those I love, but if you cross me, I will make my father's legacy look like child's play." Ivar looks at his brother like 'Holy Shit!' making Hvitserk chuckle a bit. 

"Now I like you Daario, or else I would have not chosen you to lead my people when need be. But as a queen, I need to set rules and boundaries. You understand?"

Daario breathes out, "Yes, of course."

"Good. I hope that things have been cleared and the air can be lighter between all of us here. I only want happiness in my kingdom, no hatred."

Daario "No hard feelings, my queen. But can I speak now?"

"You can." Ivar tenses up and gets closer to you. 

Daario "I accept every word that you all have said to me. I cannot say that any of you are wrong." He forces a defensive laugh, "I can speak for any man or woman that you carry a beauty that is unique. When I first saw you, I have to admit, I had thoughts. But I promise you that that will never happen again. I care for you, my queen. You carry a special presence within you that is hard to find. And for that, I would never disobey you or cause you nor your people any harm whatsoever. You put your trust in me Y/n, I won't let you down."

"I believe you." Hvitserk calms down and lets his hand fall from his sword. 

Ivar "I do not. Until you prove yourself a loyal and noble man." 

Daario "I accept that. You are her husband, I respect you." Ivar nods. "And for you Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk "I just want the best for Y/n and her people. The thought of someone ruining it after everything she has done to try to save it, infuriates me. I try not to hate you, Naharis. But you are foreign to us. We know your past and your intentions but only the gods know what your true intentions are."

Daario "I can't prove myself any more than I already have. I saved her life-!"

"You did. And for that, I now trust you more than I did when I arrived." He smiles and nods. 

Daario "And I would do it again."

Hvitserk "As for my opinion on you, I think that you are genuine, but you are perverted." Daario shakes his head and chuckles.

Daario "Okay, fine. Call me whatever you'd like, anyone who knows Y/n can tell you the same thing that I told you here today. She is very beautiful-"

Ivar "She is indeed. But that does not allow you to act out on your fantasies."

Daario "I told you that I would not."

Ivar "Then we can move forward, yes!?" 

"Yes, my love..breakfast is ready. Come join me and Hvitserk!"

Ivar "I'd love too."

"Daario, you are welcome to join us at the table."

Daario "Thank you, my queen." You nod and take Ivar's hand as you walk out the door. Daario swallows deeply, trying to hide his fear as he sits down at the table filled with Viking warriors. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meal went well, no one went back and forth over today's discussion which pleased you. You finally feel lighter and that the matter at hand has been taken care of. Now, you can go home tomorrow with a clear state of mind. 

Ivar "You are looking forward to coming home to Kattegat?"

"Mmm, more than you can know."

Ivar "Really?" You nod, "But why? This palace is luxurious, spotless even. More than I can offer you at home."

"Have you forgotten that I ran away from this place and came to you for sanctuary?"

Ivar smiles, "No."

"Kattegat is my home. It has been for over a year since I came to you Ivar. We've been through a lot together haven't we?"

Ivar "A little too much."

You giggle, "But it all made us stronger my love. We made it through it all and here we are..I'm home and you're with me! My daughter will be born any day now and that day will bring us all so much joy!"

Ivar "Oh so joyus!"

"I love you Ivar. You are my home and tomorrow we will go home to Kattegat!"

Ivar "I love you, my sweetheart."

"And I you." Daario smiles as he overhears yours and Ivar's conversation, to which Uvar notices. Ivar notices everything. 

Ivar "What is it?"

Daario "Nothing, its just..you look good together. Odd. But good." You look at Ivar and he simply smiles.

You both, "Odd is perfect."

@astrape-the-weatherwitch

@heavenly1927

@youbloodymadgenius

@hvitserkmarcosource

@ivarsgoddess

@saldelys

@readsalot73

@houseoftoomanyfandoms

@dreamycream17

@a-mess-of-fandoms

@nevlahhh

@krissydclayton93

@conaionaru

[ajokeformur-ray]

Baby, you’re fucking gorgeous// Joker x Reader//

Okay, so this one wasn’t requested but I have to get it out of my system. Every time I look at Joker, I blush like crazy and I just know that smug bastard would enjoy the attention. And so, this little imagine was born. Hopefully it’s as good as the Arthur Fleck ones I’ve written, because I haven’t written for Joker before. Let me know what you think!

Summary: You’re still unused to Joker… his mannerisms, his physical appearance, and you. Can’t. Stop. STARING. He notices, of course he does, but he subtly teases you until finally, oh, finally, you just can’t take it anymore. Are you in for a long night? Oh, most definitely.

TW; swearing, smoking (Joker), err… soft smut, teasing Joker. Mentions of Arthur’s malnutrition in real terms; if it upsets you or may potentially trigger you, then please skip the asterisked (*) paragraph. The asterisks are placed immediately before and after the paragraph. No critical plot info. is in that paragraph! I will signal its finish with another asterisk at the end. 

word count: 1,560

Arthur Fleck/Joker:  @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life​ @dopey-girl-blogs​

 Wanna be added to the taglist? Let me know in a DM or ask, please - comments can be hard to track

Oh, help you. 

Arthur Fleck, your beloved significant other, had only just recently, in the last few days, completed his gradual but inevitable transition into Joker. You had come home one night expecting to see a bare faced, very weary and tired Arthur greet you at the door, but instead you had opened the door and before you had even shut it behind you, hands had grabbed your face and pulled you into a huge messy kiss; traces of greasepaint all over your face. 

You had stepped back to see an exuberant Arthur. “Hey, Arthur!” 

 Arthur had smiled softly at you, his eyes so kind and gentle, but he had shaken his head patiently. He had known that you wouldn’t know who he was, and that it would take time before you could tell his personas apart. “When I’m like this, call me Joker, darling.” Then he had burst into laughter, the sound loud and bouncing off the walls; it was freer and more genuine than you had ever heard him before. You had accepted this new persona without question, only wanting him to be happy, and that was that. Some days you didn’t know who would greet you at the door. It didn’t matter, though, so long as you saw your enigmatic love at each day’s end. 

Despite your bravado in front of Joker, you still weren’t acclimatised to him. You had seen glimpses of him over the months, flashes of his confidence had shone through Arthur and you had found yourself malfunctioning, blushing too badly to be able to look Arthur in the eye. It had excited you, though a deeper and easier to hide part of you had worried for the future of Arthur Fleck… would you still be a part of it? Would he still love you as this new person came into light? 

As such, you had a problem. Only days before had you met Joker, and now with you sat on the sofa watching Joker dancing without music, his own eerie but liberating rhythm playing on a seeming loop in his complex and twisted mind, you were mesmerised. You were caught like a fly in a web. You hadn’t been able to look away from him all day. Arthur was devastatingly beautiful but Joker… oh, Joker was ethereal. You loved him. To love Arthur was to love Joker, he was the same man, and you had been conflicted about loving Joker initially but, like all other potentially bad decisions in your life, you had chucked yourself down the rabbit hole head first. You could only hope that Joker would catch you, just as Arthur had.

As Joker turned with stilted movements, he spotted you staring. He raised an eyebrow, winked at you and then carried on dancing like nothing had happened. You quickly grabbed the nearest cushion, burying your face in it to muffle the strange noise that left your throat, but also the blush that spread like wild fire across your face. He was fucking gorgeous.

You squeezed the pillow just a bit harder on your face, biting your lip to further muffle the second squeak that left you. Arthur had been able to make you blush with just a straight face but Joker… Joker knew what he did to you without even trying, and it seemed as though he had already figured out that this new persona, his truest and freest self, was your greatest weakness.

You inhaled the scent of cigarettes and your love as you released the cushion and stood, intent on going to the kitchen to get some food for yourself and Joker. Even now, he took very poor care of himself, but he lavished you with everything. It was frustrating, but you supposed that you could take care of the two of you. Joker already worked so hard to support you as a small family, so the least you could do was to do your share.

*

You turned to the barely stocked fridge, thinking of what kind of meal you could make with what was in there. You had the ingredients for a basic pasta bake, so that was what you set your mind to. Arthur couldn’t eat much of anything at all, his body so used to starvation and malnourished from such a young age that even slightly rich foods could make him sick; his body unable to digest it, and you had quickly had to adapt to his body’s needs.

*

You turned to the oven, your mind still fixated on the haunting images of Joker dancing to music that was in his very soul, and began to make dinner. A soft, low humming had replaced the silence in the apartment, and you found your body reaction to Joker’s music. Your hips wanted to sway, your head wanted to tilt up towards the ceiling so you could listen better, and as you set the pan down for the pasta bake, large hands seized your shoulders; spinning you around into a dance.

You were too preoccupied with the way that Joker’s eyes stared into your own to notice what he was doing with your body; turning it this way and that, spinning you, and dancing with you like Fred and Ginger. 

“Like what you see?”

You blushed as Joker winked, and he laughed. There was a tinge of hysteria to his laughter, but you didn’t mind. Laughter was better than sorrow, and you had long since learned the different emotions behind every laugh that Arthur had.

Two could play at the confidence game… Arthur and now Joker were able to read your body language with a single glance in your direction, so intuitive was he. If he could tease you, knowing exactly what he was doing but being less suppressible than Arthur so he could enjoy what he did to you, then you could use a little bravado of your own. You made yourself, with the low stirrings of lust mixing with love and affection in your gut, look Joker full in the face. You allowed the blush to rise, resisted the urge to cover your face with your hands, and let Joker see.

 You even squeaked again, much to your mortification and Joker’s amusement. You cleared your throat, drew some more strength from that familiar touch you swore you could feel even in your dreams, and said, “Baby, you’re fucking gorgeous!” 

“Have you started dinner yet, kitten?“ 

You shook your head. "No. Just about to st -" 

"Save it. I know what I’m hungry for and it’s not pasta.” Joker gave you that look and you made a mental note to clear tomorrow’s schedule. You’d be walking and sitting funny for the rest of the week, if memory served you well. Last time he had looked at you in that way, with such blatant want and fire in his eyes, you had had sex multiple times in one night… every time you had started to drift off, he had woken you up with a demanding kiss and praises whispered in your ear.

“Hey, uh, J-joker?” You stuttered over his name, your eyes still on his, and he winked at you, his smirk widening. The cocky bastard was not helping you at all and he fucking knew it. 

“Yes, dearest?”

“Do you even know how beautiful you are?”

Joker’s smirk widened to almost ear to ear (though his makeup made that illusion even stronger) and one arm slipped around your waist, pulling you tightly into him. His other arm gracefully came up and over his head, his fingers dangling loosely in the air. and he slowly lowered you into a dip. Where had this strength came from? Hovering above you, Joker’s eyes softened and he almost looked like Arthur again. It was a close enough resemblance that it made you want to cry. Where was your sweet man? Where had he gone? Did he still love you? You would never stop loving Arthur, no matter who he turned into, but you couldn’t confidently say the same about Joker. 

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him badly. Joker must have read it on your face, for his eyes flickered down to your lips and his smirk faded as he just stared at you. 

“Joker?” He was starting to make you nervous, and you got up to move, to leave, but his fingers dug almost painfully into your hips and his lips descended upon yours messily. His kiss was greedy, his tongue pushing its way past your lips. He kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to kiss you, and it was with a surprising show of strength that he murmured, “Jump”, against your lips, and lifted you so that your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. 

Without breaking the kiss, Joker somehow managed to carry you seamlessly through the flat, unfaltering in his step despite how your body obscured his vision. It was with great faith in his muscle memory that he navigated the two of you to the bedroom. He roughly shoved you off him and you landed on the bed. Your body didn’t cease bouncing before he was on you like a lion pouncing on his prey, and his lips seized yours again, his face paint smearing all over yours.

You were in for a long night.