#i demand more wonder beta content

[joelmillers-whore]

Fuck Me Like You Mean It

summary: a miserable time out at a club turns into quite the night when you run into someone you least expected to see. 

word count: 4.9k

series or one-shot

warnings: SMUT, explicit 18+, MDNI, no outbreak, dbf!joel x f!reader, dark!joel, spanking, dubious consent at times, voyeurism, exhibitionism i guess, dirty talking, language, joel calling reader a cock slut, slightly creepy joel, unspecified age gap, daddy kink, brat tamer joel, hand job for a second, manhandling, dominant joel, oral (female and male receiving), semi-public sex, bathroom sex, jealousy if you squint. as always, if i missed something, please let me know. 

you are responsible for the content that you consume. please read the warnings before continuing with this fic. enjoy babes. 

A/N: i am so sorry firstly for teasing you all with snippets of this one-shot and then just not posting it lol, life has been a little chaotic, to say the least and i was just feeling so uninspired to finish it (literally i do this to myself). but so many of you loved the little teaser i posted and i couldn’t just not give ya’ll some delicious dbf!joel. so, here it is. 

ALSO, a huge thank you and shoutout to kylee @hellishjoel for reading and beta-ing this for me, i love you and your freakouts were so valid haha. forehead kisses.

main masterlist

The pungent stench of sweat curled around your nose, setting your already overstimulated nerves into hyperdrive. Possessive hands pawed at your hips, urging you back into their body, into their growing stiffness. 

Normally, you’d be all for it. The game. Going out each weekend, getting shitfaced with your best friend, entertaining men who you would otherwise have no interest in just to see them work for a moment of your attention. 

But not tonight, tonight you’d had enough of it all. The handsy men, the unrhythmic and too-loud music, and just the whole played-out scene really. There wasn’t anything to get excited about anymore, each weekend blurring into the same version of the last, and the one before that. 

It was boring and you couldn’t tolerate the lacklustre men around you for much longer. So, twisting out of the weak grip of the twenty-something you had been dancing with all this time, you abandoned them and your friend who reeked of desperation. 

She’d hounded you all week to go out to a club, hoping to get laid, vetoing your suggestion to just get drunk and find someone at a bar. Now, you were at a seedy club downtown, getting groped from every angle by mediocre-looking men who smelled of too much Axe body spray and sweat. 

The mere thought of the combination curdled your stomach, propelling you deeper into the club and all the way to the bar. You thought that alcohol might right your foul mood, your skin already pricking with annoyance at your current circumstances. 

Getting to the bar, it was as packed as you had been imagining. Everyone was contending for the bartender’s attention, demanding drinks that you were sure were as watered-down as your first shot had been. 

You sighed, wondering why you had let your friend talk you into coming out tonight, when it was the last thing in the world you wanted to be doing. 

Lack of desire for the club had turned into plain boredom now, every ounce of your body thrumming with the longing to escape. But you’d never just up and leave your friend, no matter how much you wanted to. You’d just have to grin and bear it. 

Tapping your finger along to the music, that wasn’t even good, the slow and melodic electronic music nearly putting you to sleep, you waited for your drink. Finally getting your drink from the bartender, you slurped it down, hoping the subtle sting of the alcohol would wake you up, and trigger something to make your night more enjoyable. 

You began to walk back to where you had left your friend, deciding to scoop her drunk ass up and take her back with you to your place to call it a night at... you checked your phone, a pathetic ten-thirty. But you stopped in your tracks when something caught your eye, or rather someone. 

Turning your head toward the seated area, which basically served as the VIP section without actually having the name, because there was nothing special about it. Old red velvet couches that had seen better days and probably had every fluid known to man seeped into the cushions, and wobbly tables that were smattered with decade-old stains. 

You squinted your eyes, the stage lights blinding you as you put a hand up, shielding your eyes as you attempted to make out a vaguely familiar shape that was sitting in said area. You took a tentative step forward, thinking that your eyes were deceiving you, the wild lights making you see things. Because there was no fucking way that you were actually seeing what you were seeing, no fucking way. 

Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight. Your dad’s neighbour, Joel Miller, was sitting on one of the couches, a beer in one hand, his other hand disappearing below the cut of the table. Your eyes followed his hand, trailing down the length of him until they snagged on the back of someone's legs, kneeling below the table. 

Your lips parted slightly, completely caught off guard by what you were seeing. You were watching your dad’s neighbour— or better yet, his best friend, get sucked off at a club. Feeling your face heat, you looked away, embarrassment coating your skin. 

Your stomach lurched, turning with nausea and something else, your skin pricking with sweat as you glanced back up at Joel, meeting his already waiting eyes. Those chocolate brown orbs were blown, wide, and ghosting with surprise as he raked them over the expanse of you. 

His face glowed in the low light of the club, the flashing lights dancing and snagging your gaze to his lustful expression. The way that his eyes were heavy-lidded, the slight sheen that coated his brow, and the way that his chest rose and fell excessively. 

It was a scene that you couldn’t look away from, even though you wanted to. You wanted to get out of there and go... well, you didn’t exactly know. The longer that Joel’s eyes held yours, the more you felt yourself being drawn into his orbit, his world. Your chest began rising and falling in time with his own, and a dull throbbing began in your cunt, surprising you completely. 

You didn’t think that you’d be this kind of person, someone who was turned on by watching other people having sex. But you also couldn’t deny or explain the influx of wetness that saturated your panties. 

You awkwardly clenched your thighs, rubbing them together to ease some of the pressure you felt. Joel’s stare burned into you, causing your heartbeat to thrum erratically in your throat.

You felt sick and depraved and like you should be anywhere else in the world, but another part of yourself couldn’t look away, because you didn’t want to. 

You wanted to see Joel fall apart right in front of you, to see him burst at the seams and devolve into a fit of pleasure right before your eyes. And like you had wished it into existence, you watched as he tipped his head back, snapping his eyes closed, his whole body convulsing as he came. You’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a beautiful sight to behold. 

Another gush of your own arousal leaked out of you, sticking the thin material of your panties flush against your cunt, rubbing against your already swollen clit. Fuck, you felt too hot and you needed to cool down, maybe splash some water on your face. 

Ducking out of Joel’s line of sight, you headed past the winding staircase, down a rather dark hallway, and toward a couple of heavy-set doors that housed the bathrooms. There weren’t many people around, only a few bodies scattered throughout the hall. 

Couples made out in the dark and you may or may not have seen a drug deal going down. But none of that mattered now, the only thing you needed to do was close yourself into a stall and try to get your hormones under control. 

Even though the thud of the music carried all the way down the hall, you could still hear a rhythmic thump of someone stomping in your direction. You turned on your heels, anxious to see who it was. Before you could even blink, strong arms shoved you past one of the steel doors, locking it behind you, before planting you against it on the other side. 

Your eyes trailed their broad and expansive chest, cresting at their salt and pepper beard and mustache, and settling on their sinful eyes. Eyes you had just been staring into moments before. It was Joel. Shock and something lustful coasted through you, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine. 

Joel’s face was inches from yours, his breathing mingling with your own, the heady scent of beer invaded your nostrils. His eyes dipped to your lips and then lazily dragged back to your eyes. His hands were resting on your hips, keeping you between the door and his body, caging you in. 

“What’re you doing?”, you asked, swallowing thickly, trying to avoid his eyes. 

“What’s it look like ‘m doing?”, he replied, his Southern drawl coming out as thick as honey, making your thighs snap together. 

You shook your head gingerly, “Dunno...”. 

His lips quirked up, a sinister smirk plastered on his face, “Turn around”. His voice was gruff and assertive, making you quiver at the tone. 

You were stunned into silence, your mouth opening and closing like you were trying to catch flies, surprised by his forwardness. 

“What—”, you started. 

You couldn’t even catch your breath before Joel’s rough grip grabbed your arms, turning you around in his hold and pressing your front against the edge of the sink, basically bending you in half so that your ass was facing him, on full display. 

“This fuckin’ dress”, he mumbled behind you, fisting the material and tugging it up, bunching it around your waist, leaving your ass bare save for your drenched thong. “Wanted to fucking rip it off of ya”. 

You whined, pushing your ass toward him, your body completely under his spell, his raspy voice suddenly fulfilling every dirty fantasy you’d ever had about this man. It wasn’t as if he was unattractive by any stretch of the word, he was ruggedly attractive even. 

Your mind couldn’t concentrate on your thoughts of how attractive Joel was before a stinging slap came down on your bare ass cheek. You craned your neck, as best you could, but you felt another quick sting, forcing you to remain in the position you were in. 

“Fuck—”, you half-whined, half-mewled, both turned on and pissed off at the same time. “You can’t just—”. 

Another slap, harder this time, causing your body to jolt and instinctively wiggle away from the pain. 

“I can—”, Joel groaned, another full-palm slap on your ass, probably leaving a large, red imprint there. “And I will”. 

Joel’s other hand was pressing down on your back, pushing your face further and further toward the porcelain sink that wasn’t as white as it probably had been once upon a time. It made your stomach revolt against you, the combination of cigarette ash and week-old vomit was not the most pleasant scent. 

You felt Joel’s hand slip away from your ass, his fingers trailing over the back of your exposed legs, moving lower and lower. You attempted to look behind you again, his body not crowding you anymore.

When you did manage to sneak a peek, he was lowering himself onto his knees, spreading your legs farther apart by the back of your knees. 

Your eyes went wide, “What- what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”. 

Joel rolled his eyes, nipping at your sore ass cheek, causing you to jump. “So many goddamn questions”. 

You muttered something incoherent, a protest of some sort, but Joel wouldn’t hear it, only ignoring you and continuing on his mission. He pulled your deep red thong to the side, the chilled air in the bathroom hitting your exposed clit deliciously. 

“Mm, my favourite colour”, he groaned. 

You shook like a leaf as you awaited what came next, feeling Joel’s harsh breath closing in on your pussy, the anticipation actually killing you. It was like a shock to your system, the feel of his warm mouth suctioning to your lips, sucking and licking like he had been deprived all this time. 

Your hips pressed back into him, involuntarily chasing the sensation, the friction, the high. The brash feel of Joel’s beard tickled you, circling your entrance like a shark would its dinner. He licked along your folds, fucking his girthy tongue into your hole as he spread your cheeks further apart, stretching you painfully with the size of it. 

You were a moaning mess, hands strangling the edge of the sink, as you held on for dear life. Searing pleasure gripped your lower stomach, throttling your insides as Joel picked up his pace, helping you to your orgasm.

It came over you suddenly and violently, making you shake as you clenched your eyes shut, rocking back into him as light burst behind your eyes, making your body sweat and tingle with the aftershocks. 

You felt Joel move to stand, palming the flesh of your ass cheeks with both his hands as you took this opportunity to catch your breath. Your chest heaved as you lay virtually flat against the sink, your breasts squishing down painfully. 

Lightheaded and completely fucked out, you hadn’t even been aware that Joel’s hands were on you again, manhandling you so that you were turned around, facing him. He roughly gripped the hem of your dress, yanking the material down, your breasts popping out of their constraints. 

“D’you like what you saw earlier?”, Joel asked, his voice dropping an octave, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. “Hmm? Was that sweet lil’ pussy weeping for me while I was getting blown?”. 

Your mind was clouded, a fog settling over each neuron, slowing down your capacity to think and speak, let alone to respond to him. You nodded your head, moaning in his ear, rubbing your jaw along his own, scraping your skin over his patchy beard. 

“Fuck”, he groaned, rutting his hardened bulge into your thigh, creating succulent friction for himself while you leaned back, taking it. “I almost blew my load when I saw that you were watching me, gettin’ off on seeing that”. 

You dropped your head to his shoulder, your mind still stuck in that post-orgasm haze. 

Joel gripped your chin in his fingers, tipping your head up so that your eyes were locked with his, “Eyes on me, darlin’. I ain’t finished with you yet”. 

You nodded again, your breathing coming out rushed as you gulped down heaps of air, filling your lungs, eyes locked on Joel’s. Your lids were heavy, vision clouded as Joel leaned forward, lips grazing yours. 

His teeth came down on your bottom lip, suddenly, making you yelp. The pressure was light, not as hard as you were expecting, not as hard as a part of you wanted. Joel groaned, his hands roaming all over you. Your hips, your stomach, your ass. 

Your hands raked up and down Joel’s chest, steadying yourself with the feeling of the coarse material underneath your palms. Your gaze flicked down to his buttoned-up shirt, to the three buttons that were undone, the dense hair on his chest, stippled with grey and white. 

He hummed, his chest rumbling below your fingers as you dipped them under his shirt, weaving through the loose curls, exploring the feel of him. His chest was solid, firm, strong, dependable. A strange wave of calm washed over you, igniting your confidence. 

“No...”, you breathed, your chest heaving, pulling one raspy breath after another from your lungs, “I’m not finished with you yet”. 

Joel’s eyes widened, his mouth parted, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his already glistening lips. A smirk tugged at the edge, his index finger slipping past your bottom lip. You opened wider, allowing his digit to slip into your mouth, the heedy taste of sweat and something sweeter settled on your tongue, your taste buds exploding with the tang of him. 

“Is that so?”, Joel cooed, his voice dripping, oozing with unbridled desire. 

He pushed his digit deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat roughly. The intrusion was sudden, making your eyes snap shut as you tried your best to keep it together, to not give Joel the reaction he was looking for. But you gagged, all the same, drool pooling and dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.

You heard Joel click his teeth, a disappointed tsk coming from deep in his chest as he tried again, this time gripping your chin with his other hand, making sure you opened wide for him. 

“Come on, you can do better than that...”, he mused, his middle finger accompanying his index, sliding them deeper and deeper down your throat, until you couldn’t do anything but take it, the will to fight against the shock to your system fading quickly. “Show Daddy how much you want to suck his cock”. 

Your pussy began to thrum rapidly, your slick running down your inner thighs, making them sticky, making you even more of a mess than you already felt. You moaned around Joel’s fingers, sucking and bobbing your head along them as best as you could. 

His hand dropped from your chin to rub at your peaked and sensitive nipples, playing with them, distracting you from what you were doing. It was maddening, the sensation, the tweaking, the way he chuckled under his breath when you stuttered around him, groaning every time you took him deeper. 

He pinched your right nipple harder, twisting it, “Keep going, baby”. 

That was all the reminder that you needed. You shifted your focus back, inhaling through your nose deeply, taking his fingers down more, more, more. Tears bubbled along your waterline, making your vision of Joel blurry, and unfocused. 

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a thin line of your saliva still attaching you to him. Your attention was focused on the strand until it broke, your gaze sliding up Joel’s face, past his greying and patchy beard, his full, plump lips, and settling on his burning eyes. 

“Are you ready for Daddy’s cock now? Hm?”, he asked, in an almost mocking tone. 

You nodded, still a little dazed, still a little flustered. He grabbed your chin forcefully, his grip tight as he angled your head up, your eyes downcast as you kept them locked with his. 

“Tell me you want it, darlin’”, Joel’s face was inches from yours, his lips so close that you could push up on your toes and kiss him, feel them against you, but you didn’t, not yet. “Tell me you need it”. 

“I-I need it...”, you said, low. Joel’s brow raised, urging you to continue, “Daddy...”, you whined, your hips grinding into his thigh absentmindedly. 

Joel nodded, his pupils blown out, gleaming with lust and dark intent. You watched as his hands dragged across his stomach, sliding down farther and farther, resting above his belt. 

“Can I...”, you trailed off, preoccupied by his massive bulge, the way that it twitched in his jeans, practically punching a hole through them. 

Joel smirked, “Yeah, go ahead, baby”. His breathing was stunted, coming out in shallow pants as he anticipated you finally touching him. 

You reached out, hands dangling loosely on his hips, thumb rubbing along his zipper. You heard Joel’s breathing hitch above you, and you smirked. So, he was just as affected as you were... interesting. 

Holding in a breath, you tentatively searched his eyes a last time, he nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving you. You sank to your knees, Joel’s hand darting out to grab your arm, stabilizing you as you lowered yourself fully. 

You looked up at him through your full lashes, trapping him with your stare as you undid his jeans, slowly, with purpose. Your heart hammered in your chest, your mouth already filled with saliva as you awaited what you anticipated to be a huge cock. 

You couldn’t believe that you were on your knees, wrestling with Joel’s belt as he stood over you, towering over you, when just the other day he was helping your Dad change the oil in your car. 

Your Dad hadn’t been any the wiser to the way you had been ogling his neighbour and best friend the entire time. How you traced every bead of sweat that presented on his brow, how you watched intensely as his back muscles contracted under his plain black t-shirt every time he bent over the hood of the car, making you bite your lip as you imagined all the ways he could bend you over that hood and rail you into oblivion. 

You had focused on his dirty fingers, how meticulous and deft they were as they tinkled with the fine parts inside of your car, how filthy they were, covered in inky black smears. You felt like you were in heat, completely turned on by normal, everyday things, something as simple as a man— who again, was old enough to be your Dad, helping your actual father tune up your car. 

Pulling Joel’s zipper down, his black briefs hugged the shape of his cock, the fleecy material moulding his straining member beautifully. Your mouth watered at the sight, the size of him, the way that he smelled, even before you pulled him out of his underwear. 

You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to taste him then, immediately. Your core fluttered as you inched forward, hands wrapping around his thick, sturdy thighs, your nose burying deep into his hardened flesh, inhaling his intoxicating scent. And it was intoxicating. 

Your head was already swimming, your lips rubbing up and down his shaft, tongue licking his clothed cock. His musky soap took over your senses, the way his heavy scent settled over you, drawing you in deep, your tongue basically lapping at him now. Greedily, hungrily, shamelessly.  

Joel’s hands dropped down to your hair, tangling in it. His hold was painful, bordering on brutal. You couldn’t handle it anymore, being so close and yet not close enough. 

Your hands fumbled with the waistband of his underwear, dragging his pulsating cock out of them, feeling the weight of him in your hand. How warm and supple he was, how heavy and manly it was. 

Wrapping your hand over him, feeling flesh on flesh, skin on skin, warmth flooded your core, arousal seeping from you again. Joel sharply inhaled a breath through his teeth, wincing when you took hold of him. 

You looked up at him through lashed eyes, “What’s wrong?”. 

Joel shook his head, “Cold”. 

You snickered, rubbing your thumb over his slit, making his fists in your hair tighten significantly. In the low light, you could see a glob of something shimmering on his shaft, calling out to you. You took a closer look, realizing that it was lip gloss. Her lip gloss. 

Your gut simmered and boiled as you inspected it, collecting it on your finger and wiping it off on his jeans, practically snarling as you did. 

“She meant nothing, baby”, Joel said, his voice devolving into a groan when you slowly started stroking him. 

You hummed, not completely satisfied with his answer but deciding to let it go for now. He wasn’t yours and you had no say over what or who he did. You tugged harder, angrier, even though you knew it was irrational to get upset over this. 

“I can do it better”, you said, catching yourself off guard with your own words. Joel angled your head up, making you look at him. 

“Show me then”, he mumbled, his eyes glazing over with desire as he watched you intently. 

You sank down lower, face now level with his cock, fingers brushing against the wiry, short hair at the base. You inhaled deeply, inhaled the scent of him— sharp, masculine, heedy. 

He was all man and he was all yours for the moment; his lips parted slightly, his eyes hooded as he looked down at you, his tongue darting out to run along his parched lips, watching you like a hawk, cementing to memory the image of you on your knees for him, his best friend’s little girl hungry for his cock, ready to gag on it and swallow down every bit of his seed until she was choking on it. 

Joel’s cock pulsed under your touch, twitching with anticipation. Your lips quirked up at the edge, satisfied with his reaction to you, even though you hadn’t even started yet. 

You leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on his tip, Joel’s hand flying to your hair, steadying himself as your tongue popped out, running along the underside of his shaft, the feeling so fucking delicious that he would have burst if he hadn’t tugged you away from his cock faster than you could suck him into your mouth. 

“Stop... fucking teasing me...”, Joel breathed out, through clenched teeth, the pain in his voice making you giggle. 

“Okay”, you conceded, rolling your eyes like the fucking brat that you were. 

Joel loosed his grip on your hair significantly, and you pushed on, suckling at his tip, your tongue gliding over the head over and over again, effectively driving him insane— if his noises were any indication of that. 

You took a deep breath through your nose and took more of him, hallowing out your cheeks, covering your teeth with your lips. Spit painted his cock, the smell mixing with the overwhelming scent that was already present in the bathroom. 

You bobbed up and down on Joel’s cock, spurred on by the moans and broken grunts that were coming from him, your name and only your name spilling from his lips. 

“God, you love this cock”, Joel mumbled, loud enough for you to hear, your pussy beginning to throb again. “Don’t ya?”. 

You attempted to nod, opening your throat more for him to slide his length farther down. 

“My little cock slut, huh?”, Joel grunted, his other hand joining the one that was already tangled in your hair, grabbing your head and shoving himself deeper down your throat. 

You lost your rhythm, sputtering around him when you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You closed your eyes, trying to breathe, but Joel wasn’t having any of it. He yanked hard, tipping your head up, your eyes glazed with tears. 

“What did I say? Eyes on me”, he growled, taking over— taking charge of the situation. You gripped his thighs, holding on for dear life, as he used your mouth to get off, not caring in the slightest that you were running out of air. 

Joel’s hips snapped violently as he pushed himself down your throat, groaning at the feel of it hugging his cock, squeezing it like he was fucking your pussy, fluttering every time you swallowed around him. 

He grunted loudly, his tempo becoming stuttered, “What would your Daddy say? Hm? What would he say if saw you right now, your mouth stuffed full of my cock, makeup running down your cheeks?”. 

You moaned around him, eliciting a pained groan from Joel, “Fuck, yeah, ‘s it... you’re doing so well for me”. 

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your eyes stinging as you blinked them away, swallowing around Joel’s cock periodically, trying to get him to cum.

He was close, you could feel it in the way that he was tensing up, his pace unsteady and rushed, head thrown back as he let the feeling wash over him. It was a sight to behold, your arousal leaking from you as you watched him. 

A loud bang came from the other side of the bathroom door, some muffled shouting. Joel’s head snapped up at the intrusion, his thrusts becoming angrier each time he pulled out of you, only to shove back in harder. 

The banging came again but this time Joel didn’t take his eyes off of you, didn’t want to miss how you reacted when he came down your throat. 

“Want you to swallow it, darlin’. Don’t want you wasting a single drop”. 

You hummed again, a hand reaching for his balls, massaging them in time with his thrusts. A loud grunt was all the warning that you got before Joel spilled his load down your throat, his seed hot as it pooled in your mouth, the taste salty and overwhelming to your senses. 

You swallowed as much of him as you could, delighting in how he shuddered above you as he milked himself into your waiting and open mouth. He stepped back from you, tucking himself back into his jeans, running a hand through his sweat-slick curls. 

A drop of his cum ran down your chin and you didn’t waste a second before you thumbed it, sticking the finger into your mouth and sucking it clean, a lewd pop emitting in the echoing bathroom when you were finished. 

With a hand on the porcelain sink, you got to your feet, adjusting your dress and fixing your hair and makeup in the dirty mirror. You shrugged, not caring how you really looked, the club was dark enough that no one would be the wiser to what had just occurred. You hoped. 

You turned to Joel who still had that look in his eye as he stared at you. 

“What?”, you asked. 

He shook his head, “Nothin’”. Another bang on the door, Joel’s head turned to the noise, his features darkening, “I’m going to knock their fuckin’ head off if they knock one more time”. 

You walked to the door, patting Joel’s chest as you passed him, pulling it open. You stopped before you were all the way through, looking back at Joel. 

You cleared your throat, your voice coming out raspier than usual, “See you around, Mr. Miller”. 

You could have sworn that you saw a touch of a smile ghost his face, but you couldn’t be sure. You left the way you came, traversing the dark hallway and meeting up with your friend who was more than a little drunk. 

You joined the group of them, dancing and grinding for hours. Maybe your night out wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought. You unconsciously scanned the dance floor— the club for the brooding neighbour you had a quickie with in the bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found. 

You shrugged, only mildly disappointed that you were dancing with horny boys rather than the man who had made you see stars over and over again. But you smiled to yourself because you’d see him again, that was a guarantee, and maybe, just maybe he would need to help your Dad fix your car. 

taglist: @morallyinept @reddedmiller @hellishjoel @jenispunk @cavillscurls @kiwisbell @joelslegalwhre

let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist!

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel fanfic #daddy joel #joel miller fanfic #the last of us hbo #joel miller tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character fics #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x original character #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x oc #my fic #fic rec

[lucysarah-c]

Not in season? Pt. 2

Summary: Winter had settled in, and the scouts were busy training and preparing for the prospects of spring, still far away, to retake Wall Maria. Despite the snow accumulating outside, the building was freezing cold, and the world had secluded itself until the temperature rose. So, why was Captain Levi boiling in his own body? Something felt off, but his mind was quickly slipping into insanity as he tried to find a rational explanation.

Part 1!! Author note:: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. I'm self-conscious about my smut, so… practice makes perfect. That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me. Pairing: Levi x fem! reader. Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Levi Ackerman, Top Levi Ackerman, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Possessive Levi Ackerman, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Knotting, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, Breeding, Forced breeding, Biting, Breeding Kink, dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Forced Pregnancy, Unsafe Sex, Nurse reader, Alpha Levi x Omega reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Captain Levi x Nurse Reader, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Alpha Hange Zoë, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Erwin Smith, Alpha Eren Yeager, Alpha Jean Kirstein, Alpha Mikasa Ackerman. Omegaverse. Word count: 10.8k You had been warned lmao

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Time—time was needed, whether it be a refreshing shower or a bucket of snow from outside the building thrown at him. Anything that could pull any part of his consciousness back to work. As her lips moved and the sounds of her mouth echoed softly, his mind wondered if she was truly awake or if it was unconscious spasms. He sat on the mattress, eyes fixed on her features, waiting, expecting anything. 

Carefully and delicately, he crawled out of bed, like a mother leaving a baby in a room without waking it up. When his feet touched the floor, he almost tripped on something. His eyes surveyed the mess, and he fought every inch of his body not to go on a cleaning rampage. The only reason stopping him? She moved, flexing one leg up for more comfort, and he swore he didn’t mean to stare. His attention moving on its own over her body, focusing on the mating mark—his mating mark—most impressively, his own release between her legs. 

Pulsations in his head, frowning as the pain appeared. That was the reason stopping him from tidying up the room, each breath triggering demands like “one more” and “just one more... to be sure.” He needed to scratch every skin cell with bleach if necessary, with the coldest water and the sharpest brush. Her scent, the aphrodisiac almost cloying aroma her body expelled, clouded his judgment. He picked up the crumpled sheets at the edge of the bed to gently cover her frame. 

So that was exactly what he did—locked the door, turned on the rushing water without waiting for it to warm up, and jumped straight in. Regrets filled his mind; he had never behaved this way before. Alphas unable to control themselves, using heats or ruts as excuses, were something he despised. Perhaps even more than he hated MPs. The consequences were obvious; he had claimed her. Between Alphas and Omegas, a claiming mark was more powerful than any wedding ring. 

‘What if...’ his consciousness brought up once again as he quickly tidied up his appearance. Dark locks swayed as he shook his head forcefully, erasing the thought. ‘We will cross that bridge when we get there.’ Once rational thoughts replaced the arousal haze, anxiety kicked in. It felt loud inside his head, too many worries in such a small period.  He wasn’t sure what was worse at this rate. 

Blessing any existing god out there, his bathroom and the drawers with clothes were tidied up enough to find objects quickly. The dips of his hair dripped water almost everywhere. On other occasions, he would have waited until it dried a bit before anything else, but his mind was clouded with one priority—being in the room when she woke up. The idea of her waking up alone in his twisted sheets and undone bed, feeling used or discarded, was like a stab to his own morality. 

Heavy with water, hair fell into his face. He pushed it backward as his hand ran through his locks while searching for a shirt to wear. A pair of sweatpants was on, and this time, he was wearing underwear—the first garment he put on as the idea of his nudity made him uneasy. The Captain tried to put the uniform on, perhaps to finally go back to work after so many days, but he felt sensitive in places that would probably make him ashamed to confess. Tight white jeans were the last thing he desired right now. 

Gripping the edges of a simple white shirt to push it over his head, turning around and resting on the chest of drawers as he did. Pushing down the fabric, only to find two half-lidded eyes looking at him. Frozen in place, as if he waited for the bullet to pierce through his forehead. Slow blinks as he noticed her trying to gulp, her eyes focusing on him. On other occasions, he might consider how endearing and sexually appealing she looked while sleepily laying on her side, with the sheet sticking to the curve of her waist.  Suddenly, the edge of the sheet was pushed upwards, clinging to her body as she sat down erratically. 

‘Here we go,’ mentally preparing himself. 

“Levi?!” The confusion in her tone, the desperation in her eyes judging him across the room. “What- What happened? What is this?!” 

His lips parted softly as if he gathered what he could possibly answer. Her feet became exposed as she kept tugging on the sheet to cover her body. “Where are my clothes?” 

“I—” Levi murmured, his voice sounding rough and raspy as he hadn’t spoken for a good couple of hours while his eyes searched on the floor for any piece of garment that didn’t belong to him. “I don’t know.” 

“What time is it? What day is it? How—” 

“Look,” one of his hands raised as the other gripped the edge of the furniture behind him, grounding him to reality. “I’ve as much information as you.” 

A hiss of pain pierced through the room as she frowned deeply. Her hands instinctively reaching backward to her nape as the other tightly gripped the sheet against her chest. Confusion palpable in her face as, with drawn-together eyebrows and parted lips, she admired leftover blood in her hand from a wound that was probably repeated over the past few days. 

“You... you marked me?” her voice sounded distant. “But... I’m a beta.” 

Quick was him to add, “Yes, about that,” as if this was the only question on an exam’s sheet that he knew and was eager to answer. “No.” 

Her accusing eyes were back on him, not looking very pleased. “What do you mean? I’m 24 years old, I can’t present now. I’m a beta.” 

“Yeah,” he repeated this time less sure, “No…” 

She scoffed, offended that he doubted her word. “You’re saying you know more than me about myself? Than doctors? Than my own enlistment sheet?” 

Levi clicked his tongue and softly shook his head, “I ain’t no doctor, I’m just stating the shitty facts I got, and those are that alphas can’t claim betas,” his words seemed heavy with the weight of his own thoughts. “And betas don’t trigger a fucking rut of days into me. You got both.” 

His lips pursed together, head tilted downwards, and looking to his right. Being subtle and diplomatic with his words wasn’t what he was known for, and therefore he was trying his best to control his sharp tongue. She seemed obviously confused and scared. Society had certain implicit rules and expectations learned after presentation that Alphas and Omegas learned across the way as they grew. Himself had taught Eren when he presented that the brat couldn’t go around baring teeth and sniffing around if there was an Omega, to get a hold of their instincts. Couldn’t even imagine how it felt to find out about it so late in life. 

“Are you implying this was my fault?” Her eyes appeared reflective, and he hated that. 

“No, that ain’t what I said,” He quickly restored, involuntarily getting defensive. “Look, let’s—” his right hand raised once again trying to get his point across. Now presented, he could perceive her uneasiness in the air. 

“Don’t you dare to tell me to calm down,” the way she spat each word and the anger in her tone caught him off guard. 

His unwillingness to add to the issue made the hand that was reaching out softly switch to the right, pointing to the door as he spoke. “Let’s take a shower,” he rearranged his statement, “I bet the water warmed up already. Why don’t you take a shower while I clean this pigsty?” 

While the uneasiness in the room lingered as the stale air, the hostile undertones seemed to withdraw slowly as her attention focused on the bedroom’s floor, allowing Levi a moment of freedom from her demanding glance. “I— I’ve nothing to wear when I come out.” 

As the soldier he was, ready to break from the shock and jump into the battlefield, it snapped him. Turning around to quickly gather the first pieces of garments he could find and handing them back to her. “There are towels in the bathroom.” 

Y/N grabbed the pile of clothes and carefully put her feet back on the floor as she descended the bed, taking the sheet with her as if it could provide any sort of protection. Once the door was shut close, Levi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It hadn’t been easier than he anticipated. In reality, he had anticipated nothing, so her not snapping him across the face was already a win. 

Though he dedicated himself to picking up the remaining food and belongings scattered on the floor, the bitten loaves of bread, now growing mold, made him grimace uneasily and blush slightly in shame. Images of him hastily consuming the food until crawling back to bed played in his mind. Being reduced to such an animalistic state brewed a self-absorbed shame that was hard to explain. Perhaps it felt akin to the last time he had experienced a rut, despite not being with an omega—back in his early to mid-twenties, nearly a decade ago. The closest feeling that mirrored his shame was as if he had regressed to bedwetting or, more accurately, having to wash sheets after a wet dream. While it was natural for alphas to suffer ruts twice a year upon reaching adulthood, the years without them left him feeling wrong. 

Opening the window, he noticed the early morning glow in the sky. Inhaling fresh breaths, he felt a chill like sinking into frozen water. Both the office and bedroom windows were open, creating an airflow. Finally, out of his bedroom, he surveyed his suspiciously tidy office. Despite his hazy state, he seemed to have confined himself to lurking in his bedroom. A thin layer of dust, perceptible only to him, hinted that more days had passed than he anticipated. "There you are," he murmured, his eyes fixed on two pieces of clothing strewn on the floor—a nightgown and a cardigan. Picking them up, he folded them together. 

The sound of the bathroom door's knob opening caught his attention. Instead of leading to the bedroom, she emerged from the entrance that connected to the office. Uncertain, he stood still as her presence appeared again, holding folded bedsheets in her arms. The grey trousers and black turtleneck sweater she wore belonged to him. Their eyes met again; she seemed not to expect this encounter. 

"Uhm... I'm going to my room," she muttered, avoiding eye contact. "Your sheets." 

Levi extended his hand to accept her offer and handed her the folded clothes. He tried to engage the part of his brain responsible for social interaction to come up with an appropriate response. She took her clothes, mumbled a "Thank you," and left. Standing there, looking at the closed door, he felt confused, ashamed, and doubtful. Should he have said something? Done something? Well, in his mind, he had done enough—more than enough. 

‘Perhaps she needs time,’ he tried to rationalize the situation, but the painful short stabs in his body were something he wasn’t used to. His body wasn’t happy that he had let go of his mate, his perhaps pregnant mate. Instincts demanded once again; she may be carrying his offspring, and he just let her go—undefended, unprotected, to God knows where! ‘I know where, to her shitty room,’ he muttered under his breath as he argued against himself. 

Slender fingers scratched the back of his head, searching for mental peace. The growl of his stomach gave him an answer to the roaming question in his mind—what to do now? Search for food, apparently. The coldness of the air coming through the open windows made him shiver; feeling something other than scorching heat was refreshing. The walk of shame down the halls to the higher-ups' kitchen was reduced slightly by the early hours and its lack of people around. Continually sighing while thinking that anything inside the kitchen would be devoured. If it was from anyone else, he would apologize later; right now, he felt as if he had gone out and gotten pissed drunk the night before—overwhelmingly starving. 

“Well well well, look who finally came out from his bunker,” 

Levi did a quick side-eye contact as he bit on a piece of bread with cheese on top while he cooked himself breakfast, unable to wait until the actual meal was finished. Groaning an acknowledging reply to Hange as he had his mouth full. 

“If it wasn’t for the very loud awkward noises that came from your room, I would have declared you dead already,” the mischievous smile was even perceptible in their tone as they wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders. 

“I’m not in the mood, four eyes,” the captain muttered once he had swallowed the food. 

“Unbelievable, you are the lucky bastard who had been getting laid for almost twelve days straight, and you’re in a bad mood?! Nothing can make you stop being grumpy, isn’t it?” Hange said clearly entertained, but their words made Levi’s eyes sparkle. 

“Twelve days? What day is it?” 

Hange began to chuckle before replying, “18th of November. You owe me one; I had been training your squad and doing your paperwork for two weeks.” 

Uneasy groans of complaint echoed in the small kitchen as he stirred around the eggs with the bacon. His deadly eyes met the other squad leader, “Owe you? You should have kept everyone out of my room! You realize what I’ve just done?” 

Hange raised both of their hands in the air, “Wow wow, slow down! How is this my fault?” Their loud complaints were quick to arrive as Levi muttered bitter replies under his breath, “How was I supposed to know she was an omega? And even if I found out, you would have ripped my arms off just for the sake of mating with her.” 

“Yeah... you’re fucking right, goddamned it,” Levi accepted it resigned. 

“Where's your baby girl?” Hange’s cheeky personality was quick to return. “Making breakfast for your wifey?” 

“Don’t call her that,” Levi spit out, “In her room, she left.” 

It was the squad leader’s time to groan uneasily, “You let your newly presented and bonded mate leave? And you call yourself a high breed Alpha?” 

If it was even possible, Levi frowned more deeply. “What was I supposed to do?” he dragged the words as he muttered them under his breath, putting his breakfast out of the pan. “Kidnap her in my room?” 

Hange, who grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate to eat, owned a tired dead gaze from Levi, only to see him roll his eyes as the squad leader complained about it burning their fingers and being hot while they tried to eat it anyway. “Well,” they chuckled with their mouth full, “You kidnapped her there for twelve days, one more one less wasn’t going to make a difference.” 

The captain tiredly sighed echoed as he grabbed his plate and tugged it away from the other alpha before they devoured it all. Carefully putting the dishes in a tray with a tea set for the rest of the morning, ready to find solitude in his chambers again. 

“By the way,” Hange added again, “When do you think the due date is? Erwin and I have a bet on who is going to be cool uncle.” 

Levi stopped midway as he was about to leave the kitchen, raising an eyebrow as he turned to face the brunette. “Why the hell were you and Eyebrows talking about that shit?” 

The other alpha simply shrugged and then commented, entertained, “It was hard not to talk about it. You two weren’t particularly hush about it, you know? We’re entitled to talk about it after enduring almost two weeks of hearing you two mate like wild animals.” 

Uneasy groans mixed with his ashamed grimace at the mere thought. It didn’t help that the titan lover kept going, “You know, we both concluded that we can’t believe we thought of her as a beta.” Their comment, made with the same unbothered attitude as Hange was known for rambling about topics, didn’t match with Levi's shift in attitude. First, the confusion surpassed his previous shame, only to then demand an explanation with his fierce, sharp eyes. Hange began to chuckle nervously as they thought that, perhaps, they shouldn’t have said that. “Well... you know...” they muttered, feeling the short man’s anger, “… it’s impossible that was a beta’s ass.” 

Two alphas, closed in a room talking about his omega’s ass. It’s the best ass in the walls, don’t get him wrong, but he’s the only one allowed to make that observation... at least publicly. 

“Ugh,” Hange complained loudly as they walked down a hall. 

Erwin looked at the squad leader confused and highlighted, “I saw Levi’s window open; he’s finally out?” then added, “Are you alright?” 

“Levi kicked me,” they replied as they caressed their butt. 

Shaking his head slightly and sighing as if he were dealing with children, “I told you not to tell him anything weird while he still had a cocktail of hormones inside him,” the commander simply reproached them. 

The thud of the forehead impacting with the harsh oak wood of the desk, the deep breath that came out as a scoff, fogging up the surface, the subtle sleet hitting the windows’ glass behind before turning into snow once again, dark locks tangling as they fell forward graciously, and the clock in the office announcing it was almost midnight. ‘I survived.’ Those felt like accurate words despite his line of work; his body felt as if he had been grabbed by a titan and snapped against those big trees. His body felt in better shape when he came back from an expedition, and he wasn’t lying. Not even the best intentions and the hardest mental strength could force him to go to training with his squad; the kids had been annoyingly supportive of hearing him feel better from his “cold.” 

The muscles of his legs twitched involuntarily, and the muscles of his body felt like jelly; his brain fogged with tiredness. Blaming it completely on the drop in hormones that forced him to be on top of his game, now he felt as if he was suffering withdrawal. Any mix of substances that his body produced in excess during his rut to secure the stamina to endure the mating, the strength and sharpness to be ready to fight for his breeding right, and also to protect him and his mate during the period the pheromones could have driven someone into their nest had fulfilled its role. Now, without them and the tiredness of the aftermath of forcing his body into them, it had left him feeling as if someone had smashed all his bones. Adding to that, his instincts didn’t cease to remind him to stay close to his mate, whom he hadn’t seen all day. In normal situations, newly mated couples would have nested until both felt back to their usual selves and, more importantly, until the claiming mark settled and marked forever their bond. 

If he had three surviving brain cells after everything, two were completely dedicated to reminding him that whatever they should be doing as mates, he simply wasn’t doing it. Gritting his teeth as his instincts having power over him was starting to drive him nuts. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to her, but he also wished to respect her space. Tired eyes, half-lidded, looked through his dark and dense eyelashes as he checked the clock after it began to announce midnight. The only few times he had left his chambers to pick up and deliver paperwork and during meals to check on his squad, he hadn’t seen her. And from what he subtly asked, nobody else had either. 

This anxiety and uncertainty in him weren’t normal; he was usually decisive. The tip of the fountain pen hit against the paper, leaving little dots as he pondered the idea of checking on her, trying to decipher if it was his instincts talking or actual rational thoughts. 

“Fuck it,” 

White rice with butter and cheese in a bowl, carried on a tray, sliced apples, chamomile tea. Were the rumors true that omegas felt nauseous during post-mating syndrome? He wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to take risks. Had he overdone it? His anxiety replied positively. His lack of security wasn't something he enjoyed, and his knuckles hesitated to knock on the infirmary's door that led to her personal chambers inside. Forcing himself, one, two, three knocks resounded too much for his liking in the middle of the night. 

Time seemed to move slowly, and he seriously considered leaving the food there. Then the door creaked, and her tired eyes observed him from the gap. 

"I-Uh... I brought you some supper," Levi mentioned, slightly raising the tray as if the metal piece with food on top wasn't enough indication. 

The heavy dark circles under her eyes, the reflection in them, and her uneven look. She had seen better days; they had seen better days. Her silence gnawed at his sanity, and he seriously considered that interacting was easier when they were both intoxicated with their own hormones. Plus, his awkwardness and lack of social skills made him conclude that, perhaps, his body was right, and the only way he could engage in producing offspring was clouding his judgment completely. 

"Everything smells very strong, makes me nauseous," her voice, subtle as the flight of a moth in the middle of the night, murmured as her hands gripped the edge of the door, resting her face and weight on it. "It's very overwhelming." 

Levi readjusted his weight to the other leg and gave it a thought. "It's natural; you'll get used to it," he replied shortly, "and learn to kinda switch off your brain to not pay attention to every piece of nonsense." 

He, for example, could perceive it all. She was like an open book, her distress, confusion, and now subtle tints of happiness that he tried to attribute to her body reacting positively to the proximity of him as her mate. It was, in a sense, a bit endearing how she wasn't able to control her pheromones yet. 

Y/N's soft chuckles caught his attention as the air turned sweet, and she smiled softly. "You know a lot," she replied. Unconsciously, it boosted his pride; her body reacted positively and relaxed in his presence. 

"I presented when I was 11, an early bloomer. I remember wanting to rip off my shitty nose from my face," his comment made her chuckle again, and it made him wish he had something else to say to earn another smile. 

She let the door adorned with a small brass plaque that simply read "Infirmary" slide open and stepped to a side as a subtle indication he was welcome in. Levi had been there too many times, none of them for himself but usually because Jean and Eren fought again. As one entered, the scent of antiseptic greeted them, mingling with the faint aroma of old wood and polished linoleum floors and hers that it took all his willpower to fight against. If his body was trying to return to its normal working system, her uncontrolled liberation of pheromones was like a punch in the gut that he tried to hide. 

The walls were painted in a soothing, muted colour to create an illusion of calmness, while the tall, narrow windows allowed slivers of nightlight to filter through dusty curtains. Rows of narrow iron beds lined the room, each neatly made with crisp white sheets and thin, worn blankets. A wooden cabinet filled with basic medical supplies, from bandages to cough syrup, occupied one corner, its glass doors revealing caramel bottles with remedies. 

A small desk in the corner held a register where ailments and treatments were meticulously recorded with pen and ink. A single, dim lamp illuminated the desk, casting a pool of light in an otherwise subdued room. One small door that mimetite with the walls, led to her personal chambers. They were very similar to his, slightly smaller and with a small round table probably to fill up the lack of an office. And, of course, a bathroom with two doors, one leading to the infirmary and another to her room. He left the tray on the table, and his eyes did a quick check on her room, mostly out of curiosity. 

It was tidy, not to his standards but nice. The bed was made, and the sort of femininity that the place radiated made him giggle or nervous from inside. Perhaps it was the crochet table runner, the bed's scarf, the small pots with plants on the window frame, the body lotions next to the bed. The attention to details that he, despite living in his own space for longer, hadn't thought of buying, and she had insisted on making the place her own despite the lugged bags still being around as she hadn't been done unpacking yet. It all made him wonder when the last time had been he had been at a woman's place; the life in the scouts really makes nights lonely. 

Not wanting to overstay his visit, he was ready to leave. But as she sat down on her small table, her hand reached out to grip his forearm and look up to him. "Stay; it makes my mind so calm and quiet when you're around," she said without any restrictions. 

"It's the bond," Levi murmured, but he sat down anyway. Trying to disguise how mentally peaceful himself was now that they were close, his possessiveness of "what if there's another alpha around when I'm not there? What if she lets another alpha claim her to change the mark when it's still too fresh?" quickly subsided. 

She took quiet and slow spoon feed portions of the rice, and he tried to glue his eyes on anything else to not make her feel observed while eating. Her loud tired sighs filled the extremely uncomfortable silence, "you know... my life was way easier when I was a beta." 

Levi hummed in appreciation, "I bet," he added without much to say. 

"It's a very weird feeling, bittersweet perhaps," Y/N murmured while she slowly ate. She chuckled softly, as if she remembered something funny. "I had this very silly crush on you since I joined, and you helped me clean the infirmary. I accepted that we would only be friends because," she stopped, and he looked at her, shocked. "Well, because you're a high-breed alpha-" 

"I've never actually cared about those shits, not like I'm some banker's brat that needs to secure an heir," Levi quickly added, interrupting her. 

"Huh?" Her face turned to the left to look at him as his statement made no sense, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

Words weren't his strength, so he decided to spit out anything in his brain. "That I didn't care you were a beta." 

"Are you implying you had been flirting with me before this?" 

He scratched the back of his head and murmured slightly offended, "Yeah, for the past two months. Thank you for finally noticing." 

Despite his soft words, she remained confused “That was you flirting?” 

Levi scoffed, offended. "Fucking excuse me, usually, we flirt with scents and mark territory — both things you didn't notice until now." 

Perhaps then, pieces fell into place, the sense of calmness she experienced each time they had tea at his place. The subtle citrus, lavender-scented with a musky undertone had always been him, trying to convey his intentions in the only way he knew how. Or, maybe, all the opposites—his body reacting on its own, even at the prospect of her being a beta, trying to provide a sense of protection and calmness to the place, showing his willingness to a potential mate. 

The only reply he got was a few shallows, quiet chuckles before she continued eating a little longer, a soft smile on her features. "And the bittersweet part?" Levi insisted, picking up where she had left off. 

"Oh," her memory recalled her comment, and she blushed heavily. "Well... apparently mating with an alpha is harder than being stepped on by a horde of Titans," she explained, grimacing uneasily. "I've bruises everywhere, and I can barely move." 

"I usually behave more... I'm not particularly vanilla, but I'm a bit more civilized." As the air lightened slightly, and it felt as if both were finally addressing the elephant in the room, Levi tried to force himself to be a bit more talkative. "If it makes you feel better, I feel like shit too." 

"You? What could you possibly be hurting from?" 

"I would like to see you topping for twelve days straight," Levi snorted back, his pride hurt that she wasn't taking his part of the job seriously. 

"Fair, fair." Giving in just for the sake of it, she picked up a slice of the red apple and ate it casually. "You know..." she thought of commenting but then, "nevermind." 

"What? Just spit it out," Levi's harsh nature stepped in, especially insisting as he observed her face turn red. 

"I was just thinking that... Maybe this explains why," her voice grew hushed and embarrassed, "I always felt like something was lacking with my beta ex." 

An entertained scoff left his lips, mixed with a cocky side smirk. He felt as if his inner alpha was kicking out of happiness. Alphas are competitive, possessive, and jealous creatures by nature; they may even feel jealous of the pillow their omega hugs while asleep. Being delighted with the idea that there’s no other that could provide the strength they show while mating is like a big pat on their back. 

Levi didn’t want to press the matter too much, letting her come and talk things out at her own pace. Her brows drew together as she felt the pain pulsing again, her hand reaching backward to softly caress the mark on her neck. “This hurts horrendously,” she admitted through clenched teeth, “I put numbing cream and-” 

“Don’t put anything on it,” Levi quickly interrupted. “Your body may react more because it feels that you may be trying to reject it.” 

Her eyes opened, locked into his, the frown still present. “Was biting me this hard so absolutely necessary?” 

“If I had any power over my actions during a rut, do you think we would be in this situation? Where there is a high chance, I got you knocked up?” 

Levi’s words pierced the night like a cannonball does from the top of the walls to a titan’s neck; she looked at him uneasy and confused. Nobody dared to even whisper; not even the sound of a mouse was perceived. Her expression of anger softly switched, as she averted his gaze looking in another direction. Maybe she preferred not to think about it, but Levi has always been a man that faced reality as it was given to him. 

“Maybe...” she started to suggest, breathing deeply. “Maybe it didn’t take,” 

Levi slightly contorted uneasily, taking a subtle deep breath to steady himself. “What?” her ignorance in certain dynamics was something he had to constantly remind himself. He knew she didn’t do it with harm, “I just came out of a two-week rut, my body has more hormones at the moment than a fifteen-year-old brat... try not to say straight in my face that I didn’t breed you properly because you’re only triggering another round on me.” 

“I’m just saying that I know that some low-breed omegas can’t get pregnant by high-breeds that easily. “ She insisted, giving it a rational thought “Maybe the reason I didn’t present is that I’m closer to a beta than an omega by being low breed.” 

While her explanation seemed logical in her mind, Levi heard her with a deadpan expression. “Didn’t you hear me? Two shitty weeks, no fuckin’ way you’re low-breed.” 

Perhaps that had been the consolation she had been running with the entire day, and the weight of the matter began to hang on her heavier than before, which didn’t help Levi to feel less concerned and uneasy. Her attention lost somewhere, and for once, Levi wished he could be subtle and charismatic, perhaps to have something to say. The confession she had made a few minutes ago held in Levi’s mind longer than he liked to admit, and he tried to wrap himself around it to initiate his response, waiting first for a bit for her to add anything else. 

“Ehm-” he cleared his throat as he drew attention back to him, sat down around her small round table in the corner of her room, “maybe we jumped a bunch of shitty steps in the dating process or whatever, but I don’t mind trying to make it work if you want.” 

His right hand dubiously reached out thinking of creating physical contact for comfort. First reaching for her left thigh but reconsidering deeply, while pressing his lips together, he moved it upwards to her forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “And I’ll back you up in any decision you take about it if it turns out you’re knocked up.” 

Her drained voice, perhaps due to tiredness or fear, whispered, “Really?” 

“Huh?” Levi seemed slightly confused, “well, we are already bonded, so at least we could give it a try...” 

“No, I mean the other. You really don’t mind anything?�� her voice was barely above a whisper. 

The washed-out memory of his own mother popped into his mind for a brief second before replying seriously and with no doubt on his face, "Well... I won’t be the one pregnant for nine months and neither the one who is going to be giving birth, so what I prefer doesn’t really matter," Levi said unfazed. "And I know I’m not a fucking sunshine, but I’m not that shitty to get you knocked up and leave you to face it alone." 

While nothing was written in stone, and the consequences of it were still too soon to be sure, there was a soft sense of tranquillity that washed over her. A soft smile cracked on her face. "Thank you," she murmured. 

At the beginning, it felt conflicting going back as if nothing had happened. Drinking tea at his office while both worked on their respective paperwork, nobody wanted to press the matter further. Though Levi would hear whispering gossip between his own squad, the Captain tried his best to let her process what had happened and allow himself to do it. 

Keeping the scouts under strict rules of not letting it escalate was easy; a death glance from Humanity’s strongest soldier was enough to make all the curious cadet and squad leaders keep themselves in line. Humanity’s strongest soldier, that’s who Levi was. "Worth an entire army," whispers as the scouts pass by, the only one that people recognized enough for those "Wanted" posters while they were fighting the uprising a few months ago. The person people put their dreams and hopes in now that they were planning the retake of Wall Maria. 

"MH..." hummed sounds echoed in her throat as her delighted eyes admired the pastries in the showcase. Levi has taken his squad to pick up groceries downtown, and she had insisted on going, breathing some fresh air and sending medical reports. "I’m really craving something sweet," it was more of an inner monologue than something meant to be answered. 

Though her eyes full of desire caught Levi's attention as he was waiting for the provisions given to him, analyzing it with second thoughts. But he wasn’t the only one with curious eyes; the baker admired the scene behind the counter. The madam was an omega, and, while her years of fertility may have already passed, she had been involved in too many dynamics and had enough kids behind her to spot a freshly mated couple from a mile. 

"Ah! The hazelnuts one, please!" Y/N had finally made up her mind on her little treat, pointing with her finger across the glass at the small cake. The old woman nodded in agreement. Another coworker was putting the big flour white bags on the rustic cart they had brought to take the provisions as Levi supervised both. When the baker was handling the smaller purchase, Y/N was about to handle her payment, but Levi was quick to offer the money first with the military coupons for the food provisions. 

"Hey," she looked at him complaining but not completely mad. "It’s mine; I’m paying." 

Levi clicked his tongue, "Don’t be stupid," he insisted and grabbed the paper bag to hand to her. While he didn’t reciprocate the soft pouting, she did at him, the shop owner simply took his food coupons and smiled as she regretted the money. 

"It’s on the house," she quickly added, and Y/N checked the inside of the bag, and there were also extra treats and cookies. Levi didn’t seem convinced about it, but the old woman, with her white apron covering most of her dress and her hair out of the way, smiled interestedly and asked, "When is the due date?" 

Older women and their audacity; colours quickly dropped from both, only to raise back harder as blood rushed to their cheeks. 

"Ehm, it’s too soon yet," Levi quickly added, trying to smooth out the situation, shortly spitting out the answer. 

The surprised gasp, and then "Oh, I thought... well, it’s hard to tell with all the layers during winter," she insisted. Y/N smiled awkwardly, as, after receiving the gift, she didn’t want to just leave. "So, is it recent?" 

Levi’s eyes did quick checks on the cart, praying it would get all the provisions faster so he could slip himself from this social situation, "Yeah," he groaned out. 

"Weird... it’s not mating season," she commented, pointing out something that Levi had probably seen coming; he had to hold back a sigh. 

"Yes, well, thank you very much," he replied faster as he noticed the cart was loaded, and he was more than ready to leave. Y/N thanked back too, gathering any left in her to give a sort of friendly grimace before walking away with him. 

The uncomfortable silence as they walked across the rest of the shops, Levi’s squad taking care of different tasks, and some of them even shopping for themselves. "How?" she began to question unsure while adjusting her scarf that covered the mating mark. 

"The scent," Levi quickly replied, already knowing where the conversation was going. "I come here very often; she probably noticed the change, and you smelling as a mated omega put two and two together." 

Humming a mix between an understanding but confused reply, she wrapped herself better in her coat as the weather was still very harsh. "I still get confused about the aromas thing," the nurse confessed. "Sometimes it feels like teenagers get it better than me." There was a sort of defeat with shame in her tone. 

"When you’re mated, you can say that you stink less. After all, there’s no point in dragging attention any further," Levi explained. "Think of it as getting a cheap, shitty perfume; you still smell like you, but less intense." 

Her attention was drawn to her left as he explained it out for her, both resting on the edge of the cart as they waited. Blaming the cold on her cheeks, softly blushing as she smiled at his understanding. After this, she was thankful that her trips to the downtown were very scarce because the rumor spread faster than any winter flu. Levi could barely walk down without getting congratulations, presents, cheerful words from older women and young mothers. Some gifted him wood for the baby, treats for his mate, the proud pats of older alphas telling him that "good for him, it was time already for getting a proper mate." 

Even the Reeves sent him meat under the excuse that "pregnant women need more iron." His face always tried to hide the unpleasant social moments that came with this, but Hange insisted that he was not nailing at faking being happy about the public celebrations. 'It’s too soon,' he would insist, but 'you’re a high breed and so is she, both young, everybody is sure it will take.' 

"Perhaps it’s bad timing," Erwin commented, trying to hold back a mischievous smirk. "But Nile and Zackary send their congratulations." Levi dedicated his beast dead glance across the office as they were in a meeting. Hange didn’t even try to hold back a loud laugh while Erwin tried his best not to chuckle in the captain’s face. "Don’t look at me like that; I didn’t tell them... they found out on their own." 

Fingers doing pressure on the bridge of his wrinkled nose, "Fuck me," he cursed under his breath. It’s not that he wasn’t "sure"; it had been almost two months, and she hadn’t come to him with any "news," which meant that any passing day was more of a confirmation than a negative. She seemed reluctant even to mention the topic, and since both seemed to be improving the quality time together, Levi didn’t want to risk asking too much. But the uncertainty was starting to grow on him. It didn’t help that her pheromones sometimes gave him clues when they were alone that she was interested in perhaps moving a bit further than just sharing teatime together. His scent quickly matched, giving away that he was more than willing to get tangled in bed once again, this time both consciously. 

But... she never noticed, never made a move, and after what happened, he wanted her to take the lead. 'It’s her body reacting,' he reminded himself, which was both arousing to know her deeper instincts wanted him, cute that she couldn’t control it yet, and frustrating to know that it wasn’t voluntary. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had never been mated before, obviously, and being around his mate triggered it more. If he had gone so many years without it that after getting laid again, he started to crave it more. But he felt the necessity. 

So, there she was, sat down on his desk, legs swinging as she ranted about how her day visiting her friends had been. Until the unsure clearing of her throat caught his attention again from paperwork. "I was... wondering if perhaps you could spare me a couple of clothes?" 

That had definitely caught him off guard. "My friends from my nurse’s hostel, most of them are omegas, so they almost threw me a welcome party," Levi hummed understanding, wanting to know where this was going. "They mentioned that perhaps my insomnia may be due to... nesting? That my body feels uneasy, and perhaps having my mate’s scent would help? Sounds very stupid, I know-" 

"Sure," he quickly agreed and blessed his well-known stoic face to hide his disappointment. His own mate preferred a bunch of scented clothes over being with him; his inner instincts were kicking in anger, almost throwing a tantrum in the floor of his mind like a spoiled brat. Being rejected by your bond is not something alphas took easily, and he had to clench his teeth holding back the imperious necessity to mark territory again. He was better than behaving like a wild animal, he knew but yet. 

"Give me a minute to finish this report," he replied between clenched teeth. 

"Expedition Wall Maria?" She asked, somehow trying to keep the conversation alive. He hummed positively. "How are the preparations going?" she insisted, pushing the topic further. 

"Good." 

Her lips pressed together; her eyes never left the back of his head as he curved over his desk to write endless reports. Then, "You’re going to come back, right?" pierced the room, followed by "...you’re not leaving me to deal with this alone, right?" 

The pen stopped moving as his fingers left it to rest after it had run out of ink, his back straightened up to look over to her as she remained seated on the edge of the desk, the desk where he had undressed her. Coral light filtering through the window’s glass landing on her. The training was over only an hour ago, and he tried to advance paperwork before dinner. It was still early, and the bustling of the building hadn’t ceased yet. Despite it all, Levi felt as if the silence was overwhelmingly loud. 

The doubt in her eyes was almost tangible; therefore, he said the only thing that crossed his mind. "I’ll come back walking if I have to." 

Fast short scoff as her cheeks raised in a tender smile, Levi was tempted to push the idea further. He took it as a confirmation somehow and wanted to know it all, at least what she knew so far. But before he knew it, she was descending from his desk, and the intentions of leaving the place were written all over her face. 

"Let me finish this, and I’ll give you the shirts," Levi insisted, the disappointment on his face was hard to disguise until her hand grabbed his armrest for support, one leg then the other. It was so simple, but his legs tilted sideways, and he could feel how his blood dropped to pump downwards as she sat down on his lap. Instinctively tilting his leg outward, making space, parting legs. 

The scent passing thought his nostrils, soaking in his brain, making him be aware of his fangs before he could notice. It wasn’t like a heat, of course, not but inviting enough. Receiprocating almost immediately, on full will and not so much too, seeing how with each breath her cheeks blushed more and her eyes turned transparent. Ass on his knees, making him wish she had moved forward directly over his bulge, to feel the sweet pressure of her body over his dick.  

"I don’t think I want the shirts..." She murmured, somehow quickly breathless, as her right hand reached forward to cup his face, “I’ve one and it doesn’t smell like you,” her eyes turning transparent as the pheromones sank in, remembering the clothes he had borrowed her the morning after “You smell divine,” 

His hands moved instinctively, quickly rubbing her sides lightly, cupping her hips before gripping and try to push her closer, “How is this fucking fair?” he said hoarsely, trying to keep his voice level despite the fire raging through his veins “You had my clothes and I was here, like a teenager trying to recall how your slippery cunt milked me dry,” 

The shock ways shivering down both of them, forcing a soft gasp out of her parted lips as Levi buried his face on the crook of her neck, feeling his mating mark. Recalling with pleasure it had been him who had claimed her, she was all his and nobody else. Shameless tongue running through the mark with closed eyes and scoff of aphrodisiac reassurance, he could feel the pheromones in her skin. Both bodies reacting to each other as if they were made for this. Her hand gripping his dark locks as her neck suffered the attack. 

Softly rocking between his parted legs, she could feel the outline of his hardening cock almost painfully twitching against the white trousers of the uniform. Crumping upwards the skirt but a strong push of her hand against his chest got him resting on the desk’s chair. Dusted cheeks, sassy smirk, her neck glistering under the tangerine light of the afternoon, “I want to suck you, Captain,” 

He couldn’t make his mind in which he liked more, the memory of her in-drunk state of pure heat’s submission, becoming a pliant hole for him to fuck rough or her assertive cock drunk self. But he couldn’t mind it less as her hand palmed the front of his trousers before grasping his length to start to pump it through the fabric. She straddled Levi, hand on his shoulders before kissing him desperately, Levi kissed her back forcefully.  

The early afternoon had turned excided as one of his hands gripped the back of her neck to kiss her deeply, hips gridding against each other. His hand kneeling her ass through the uniform dress with content. Head switching to the sides as he pried her mouth open, saliva dripping to the sides. The sound her lips parting echoed in the office, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the view of her reddish pumped lips. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he imagined her on her knees, those full lips wrapped around him. 

His hands tightened around her ass cheeks, before giving it a good smack that made her jump slightly in his lap. Loud gasp as he pulls her closer and he leaned towards her ear again “Eager for it, huh?” 

“Mhh-” Nodding enthusiastic while humming positively. 

“Good girl,” Levi smirked, caressing her ass once more, squeezing it tightly before slapping it again. Burning sensation crossing though her body only to feel it tingling with the afterglow heating sensation of the hit, “On your knees. Suck me dry, baby girl,”  

Straighten up slightly on his seat as she pulled away to get on her knees to unbuckle his belt. Raising slightly to rip his trousers and boxes as down as they could go with the harness on. Uncomfortably staying on the middle of his thighs and Levi quickly concluded that whoever designed the military uniform didn’t get laid frequently or, at least, they weren’t thinking in getting fuck on their desk’s chair. Exposing his hardened cock fully, it stood erect and throbbing as the tip glistered with pre cum. On top of his balls, the base was slightly engorged as it prepared for the knotting at the correct time. 

Half lidded eyes admiring as she hovered with her forearms on each side of his legs to softly, almost ghostly, run the tip of her tongue through his thick, pale shalf. The action alone, the teasing, made him want to thrust forward and leak precum thought the tip. Big eyes looking up to him through her eyelashes. Smirking playfully as she collected the dropping with her tongue, only to then roll down the foreskin, revealing the tip to wrap her lips around the darkened head and suck directly from the exposed slit. 

His hands gripped the chenille of the chair tightly, his knuckles turning white as he tried to keep himself from thrusting into her mouth. Clenching his teeth as she kept teasing him, giving subtle little kitty licks to the sides, sucking directly from the tip without going down. Barely toughing him. 

“Fuck,” Levi cursed as he could feel the smirk on her lips, moving up again to the head. His hands gripped her head firmly, guiding her towards his aching member. "Suck me," he growled hoarsely, his voice filled with hunger and desire. Forcefully pushing her downwards this time, feeling the vibrations of her complain around his cock. 

“There you go,” Levi groaned. Her lips wrapped around his cock, sucking hungrily on it as she continued to stroke him firmly. Slender fingers ran up and down around her hair before make shifting a ponytail to keep the hairs out of her face, admiring the view better. Her reddish lips, struggling around his cock, watery eyes as she tried to take a bit more each time she went down, the hollowing of her cheeks, the velvety sensation of her tongue against the pulsating vein of his cock each time she bobbed upwards. Delicate hands gripping the side of his thighs for support as she began to bob her head with favour. Her hand continued to stroke him rhythmically, matching the pace of her mouth movements. 

“Fuck,” Levi's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she took him deep, her warm, wet mouth engulfing his entire length. His hand tightened in her hair, holding her head firmly as he began to thrust into her throat, fucking her face roughly.  

"That's it, girly," he praised, his voice hoarse with desire. His mind kept reminding him he should have got his sooner, remind her who was his alpha and get it. Fucking her throat roughly, his hips bucked wildly, each powerful thrust pushing deeper into her throat. Her hands dropped to his legs, fingers digging into his thighs for balance, hearing her struggle to take him all in. 

“MHH!” Her chocking sounds mixed with the whines as he kept forcing her head all the way down, the saliva dripping through her mouth corners. As she deep throated him, gagging, Levi's grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head down harder against his member. His mind kept reminding him he should have gotten a mate sooner, priving himself from this was unhuman. To have an omega, to fuck her silly, to enjoy the tightest warmest cock-drunk cunt each time he wanted. Submissive pretty little thing, to mount and breed at least once per year. 

“What’s the matter? Not used to the thick fat cock of an alpha?” the smirk on his face could almost be heard through the pants that left his lips, “Don’t worry,” he mocked with faked condescending, “I’ll teach you how to be a proper omega,” 

Half lidded eyes looking back at him as she sobbed while letting Levi use her mouth, droll dripping down her chin. 

The feeling of her throat contracting around his length was unlike anything else he had ever experienced, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. His hips bucked wildly, thrusting harder and faster, his balls slapping against her chin as she continued to suckle hungrily. 

"That's it," he growled, his voice low and husky. Her moans turned into high-pitched whimpers, mixed with the wet sounds of her mouth working over his cock. “That’s my good girl,” he praised before finally pulling her head off with a loud pop. Quickly she crawled into his lap, straddling him. 

His fingers unbuttoned the front of her uniform, yanked down the sleeves to a side so he could have direct access to her chest. His fingers traced the delicate curves of her breasts through the fabric, feeling her nipples harden under his touch. He leaned forward, capturing one of them between his lips, sucking greedily as his hand cupped her other breast, kneading it roughly. 

“Ahh- Levi!” her soft moans echoing in the room mixing with the tale-tell of his lips licking her bud. His tongue circled her nipple, teasing it before finally taking it into his mouth, suckling on it hungrily through the fabric. The inner part of her breast turning a dark shade as he sucked the valley of her chest. Meanwhile, Levi’s freehand moved to gather her skirt to her waist.  

Levi's hands grabbed her ass, squeezing and kneading it roughly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her skirt. He couldn't resist the urge to taste her again, suckling greedily on her nipple as he thrust his hips upwards, grinding their bodies together. His tongue continued to tease and suck on her nipple, alternating between gentle flicks of his tongue against the sensitive bud and deep, forceful sucks that left marks on her skin. His hips rocked rhythmically beneath her, grinding their crotches together, seeking more contact. But it wasn't enough. He needed to feel her wetness, to know for certain how much she wanted him. 

As soon as his fingers brushed against her entrance, she let out a soft cry, arching her back into his touch. Her hips bucked subtly against his hand, inviting him deeper inside her. And so, without any further hesitation and incapable of waiting any more, Levi pushed her underwear to a side and slid two fingers into her core, moaning softly at the slick warmth enveloping him. 

"So fucking tight," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. His thumb rubbed against her clit, circling it in a slow, deliberate motion. "You were made for this," then he insisted, “You got it all fucking wrong, you’ve always been made for this. To cramp down my fat knot,” 

Levi couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he heard Y/N’s soft mewls, her body responding eagerly to his touch clinging to his fingers like a vice. "You like that?" he murmured; his voice thick with desire. "You want more? You want me to breed you again?"  

"Mh," she moaned, arching her back further as his fingers delved deeper. Her hands gripped his shoulders, holding herself steady as waves of pleasure washed over her. "Fuck yes..." 

Hair falling backwards as she arched over him, continuing to fuck herself on his fingers, Levi could feel the tension building within him. He wanted more—needed to be inside her, feeling her tight heat surround him completely. But there was something else driving him, too—something primal and possessive that made him crave the act of mark her as his own, to make sure everyone knew she belonged to him. 

“Yes! Ah- Yes, Levi!” Y/N mewled pleasantly, milking the digits. 

It was a strange feeling for him, this possessiveness over another person—but at the same time, it felt right. Like something he had been missing all these years without even realizing it. 

"Wanna get my knot again? Mh?" He chuckled darkly, almost coaxing a confession out of her. "I'll fucking remind you how I got you knocked up," he promised. Her body clenched around his fingers, a silent plea for more, and Levi didn't disappoint. 

"Tell me," He growled, his voice low and husky. "Admit it, you want my knot inside you." 

As if she had been waiting for this moment, Y/N’s eyes locked with his, filled with a mix of lust and submission. "Yes... I need it... give it to me..." 

"That's my girl," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. "Take every inch of me, just like your tight little cunt was made for this." 

He pulled his fingers out of her, savouring the sound of her whimpering protest. His hand reached down between their bodies, grasping his own painfully hard cock, which was now leaking copious amounts of precum onto his stomach. With one swift motion, he positioned himself at her entrance, lining up his head with her tight hole. Her hand gripped his shoulder and slowly sunk on it. 

As Levi felt himself sliding into her tight heat, he groaned in pure bliss. Her walls squeezed around him, milking every inch of his length as she slowly lowered herself onto him. His fangs ached with the need to claim her again, but he resisted the urge for now. 

“N-Ngh,” she mewled, “Ah, so big,”. He had just put it in, and she could feel the head of his cock already prodding her cervix. The fullness and tug of her own body trying to fit him all in was aphrodisiacal, if it wasn’t that they were already bonded, she would have promised to never fuck a beta again. Levi’s dick was so impossible thick, it didn’t help that he pressed a hand on her belly to feel himself there. To feel himself filling her up to the brim as she wiggled her way down to be fully seated.  

His hands gripped her hips tightly, helping her to ease up and down his cock as he fucked her roughly, their bodies slapping together noisily. The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, making his fangs ache with the need to mark her again. She was riding him as her life depended on it, mouth hanging open, drooling as her eyes rolled backwards each time his cock plugged all the way in, hitting all the good spots. 

"Fuck," Levi hissed, gasping softly as he admired with delight her well-fucked face. He could hear the wet sounds of their bodies coming together, see the glistening sweat on her skin as she moved against him. 

"Fucking— Shit," he growled breathless, thrusting harder into her depths. "You like that? You love swallowing my cock?” 

“YES! Ah- yes!” shamelessly moaning as she sat down completely, gyrating her hips before going back to bounce. 

Momentarily closing his eyes, pushing his head against the back of the seat as he felt his cock squeezed, sucking him in the best cunt he had ever had. “God- Yes, keep going,” he urged. Levi could feel it all the base of his cock inflate, her slick dripping down his balls. He gripped her hips tighter, pulling her ass cheeks apart for better access to her hole. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his voice interrupted for heavy inhales and satisfied groans. 

“Fu-fuck, enjoying that dick?” Levi growled satisfied; his voice weakened with desperation. 

Positive mewls vibrated on her throat as he thrusted upwards hard enough to make her wince each time. 

"You're mine," Levi growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "Mine to claim and fuck whenever I want." His hips bucked harder, driving deeper into her tight channel, hitting all her good spots mercilessly. 

The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, creating a rhythmic beat that matched their shared heartbeats. Sweat dripped down both of them, mixing on their skin in a sticky mess. He could feel himself nearing climax, his balls tightening up as he prepared to release inside her. 

"Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "Let go and let me fill you up again." 

She let out everything shamelessly; mewls, whims, load moans of his name as she sank down one last time. Using his shoulder to leverage, gripping his uniform jacket with her fist, tugging him closer. Crying in pleasure as she came all over him. Levi gripped her hips harder, pounding upwards with everything he had, chasing his own release. 

“Nng- Ah-” she complained slightly as his swallowed base teased to finally pop inside. Levi gritted his teeth painfully as he kept gridding upwards, trying to finally put his knot. 

Levi couldn't hold back any longer, reaching forward and biting her harshly over his claiming mark once more. Painful gasp left her lips as she twitched over him. With one final powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her tight channel, groaning in pure ecstasy as his climax crashed over him once his knot pressed against her entrance and managed to slip in. His cock twitched violently, spurting hot seed deep within her womb, filling her up completely. 

"Ah- yesss!" he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good." He kept jerking himself against her, pumping in in vain, unable to pull out, as he kept coming. He held onto her hips tightly, thrusting weakly against her even after he had finished, savouring the feel of being buried inside her. His heart pounded against his chest, and he could feel his breath hitching in his throat as the aftermath washed over him. 

Body slacked against the chair, collapsing on it. Hair sticking to each other's face as both panted heavily trying to catch their breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her head buried on the crook of his neck. Then she tilted lightly to the right as his hands softly caressed her face, pushing the sticky locks out of her features. She smiled softly with blushed cheeks and half lidded eyes in satisfaction. Leading forward, sharing a couple of sloppy kisses as they came down the peak.  

The once warm light that came through the window had turned coldly as the night slightly slipped in.  He felt exhausted yet satisfied, but an uncomfortable whine followed by a hiss left his lips as he felt her move. “Don’t” he warned her, his hand gripping her hips to hold her in place. His knot still locking them together and his cock twitched in overstimulation. 

Y/N groaned uncomfortable, “How long does this take?” 

“The more you move, the longer it will take,” He said, “Half an hour at least,” 

“I’m hungry,” she complained. 

“Well... that make two of us,” Levi replied. 

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[navybrat817]

Lay Me Down

Pairing: Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!Female Reader Summary: You look to the past and future on your last night as a human. Word Count: Over 3.6k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, swearing, possessive behavior, slight fluff, slight angst, mentions of violence, blood, and death, some world building (is that a warning?), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: @buckysdollforlife suggested vampire mob!Bucky to me after sharing a photo. With the encouragement of @jobean12-blog and @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky , I ran with it and created THIS! Thanks to @dreamlessinparis and @sgt-seabass for listening and spitballing, along with @sweeterthanthis who also provided me with a delicious prompt near the end (we'll see it in the next part). Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Staring out the window at the city lights, you wondered how many were blissfully unaware of those who roamed in the shadows. They should consider themselves lucky. Peace existed between humans and supernatural creatures, but for a price. Clans and packs around the world required payment to keep the peace. Tomorrow, the Barnes clan will come to collect. 

The leader, James, affectionately nicknamed Bucky, didn’t ask for money or power. He had more than enough to survive long after most would leave this world. There was only one thing he demanded to continue protecting the eastern territory: you.

While clans and packs flourished, there had to be balance. Humanity and light needed to exist. Your father came from a powerful line with their own set of gifts and he often acted as a mediator between the families. 

He expected that someone would eventually lay claim to you, as much as he tried to shield you from his associates.

Special in your own way thanks to your blood.

"Be thankful it's the Barnes family."

You did consider yourself somewhat lucky. Your mom explained becoming a vampire was an honor and you would still be you at your core after the ceremony. While the marriage appeared to be transactional with Bucky gaining the use of your gifts, your husband-to-be did love you. 

You would know if he didn't.

"Your family will still thrive while you're in my care."

"And I'll be bound to you forever, James."

"Since we're in love and have an eternity awaiting us, I think it's time you call me Bucky."

A girl could do worse than Bucky Barnes.

You closed the curtain after a minute. Between the guards outside of your door and across the street keeping an eye on the building, you knew that you were safe for the night. Your phone got your attention as you crossed the room, recognizing the ringtone. "Hey, Bucky."

"You should be asleep, darling."

His face shimmered in your mind as the rich timbre of his voice filled your ears. Glacier-blue eyes framed by long lashes. Sharp cheekbones and a jaw peppered with stubble to match his lush, dark brown hair. He trimmed it recently, but it was still long enough to sweep back. 

Masculine. Attractive. Beautiful. 

Everything most would expect from a vampire. 

"Then why did you call me?" you asked, sitting on the bed. 

He chuckled. "Because I hoped you'd be awake. You rushed off after the rehearsal and I wanted to check on you. I think everyone was a bit worried."

You sighed, letting your mental walls down long enough for your family to sense that you were okay. You hadn't meant to leave so abruptly, but you couldn't stay. The rehearsal reminded you that you'd no longer be human after tonight. Instead, your body would no longer age while your loved ones would grow old and pass on. 

Your parents. Your little brother. In a way, your wedding would be the beginning of letting them go.

Peace always comes with a price. 

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry any of you. I'll apologize to my family tomorrow."

Your dad insisted, no matter what, that you ate breakfast as a family. It would be your last meal with them. You would have to appreciate every bite and flavor of your favorite foods.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Bucky asked.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't do that to him or your family. "Just wondering if you'll get sick of me after a century or if it'll only take a decade."

"I won't get sick of you. Ever."

He spoke the truth. 

"Forever is a long time," you said, wiping an unexpected tear from the corner of your eye. 

"It is. Is it selfish that I don't want to spend it alone?"

"No. I think it's only natural that you want someone to share it with after everything," you said. 

Bucky had been through enough horrors to last a lifetime. Being the last of his bloodline after the slaughter of his family, he managed to rebuild his clan from dust and rise up in the ranks. It wasn't enough, as those in power often found. He craved companionship to chase the demons away. 

A mate. 

"Are you having second thoughts?" you asked. "You could have chosen Dolores as your bride or someone from another clan."

Some vampires had multiple partners, but Bucky wasn't one of them. His love didn't waver or wander. He devoted himself to you and would continue to do so in marriage.

"I don't want Dolores or another bride," he told you, not hiding the slight anger in his voice that you dared suggest that he would want anyone besides you. 

"I just know some aren't happy that you chose a human as your mate."

You weren't naive. Just because Bucky planned to turn you didn't mean all of the pure blood clans liked the idea of a human becoming one of them. Or that the Rogers clan offered to protect your dad's territory, too. In their eyes, you were weak. Even with your gifts. 

No one would dare make an attempt on your life on your wedding day at the risk of starting a war, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't try later. That was only the vampires. The wolves were a different story. 

Loving Bucky is easy, but that didn't mean the road ahead would always be smooth. 

"You and I are happy. That's what matters. I will keep you safe," he said, leaving no room to argue.

"I know you will. Turning me will make me stronger, too, so we'll keep each other safe. Remember that," you reminded him.

"Like you'd let me forget," he said fondly. "I saw your protective streak the moment we met and I knew I wanted to share forever with you. Do you remember that day?"

"I do. You planned to kill my dad."

You remembered that day well. 

You stood outside your father’s office door once you pushed past the guards, ignoring their warnings that he was in an important meeting. They knew better than to argue with you and didn’t sense the danger lurking feet away. They should have. If your dad wasn’t careful, this conversation would be his last. You couldn’t let that happen.

"It's out of respect for you that I came here alone today, but you're trying my patience," a deep voice spoke to your father. 

You shook your head, telling yourself not to let the hypnotic tone distract you. 

"I have no information for you, James. I'm sorry."

You gasped. There wasn't a soul who didn't know who James Barnes was. Though he was a close associate of your father, he never laid eyes on you. Your dad didn't let any of his associates see you. 

"Alexander Pierce was killed after meeting with you and you received a large portion of his shares. And then you don't show when we call an emergency council session. The same session where an assassin tried to take Steve and I out with wooden bullets."

Steve Rogers, best friend to James. Another powerful vampire and name most feared. He was kind to your father from what you heard and a man of honor. 

"Alexander wasn't a good man and I didn't want to do business with him, but I didn't kill him or have him killed. His money means nothing to me. And I had nothing to do with the attack on you or Steve. Why would I do such a thing?” 

“My men haven't found evidence against anyone else. And in all the time I've known you, you haven't missed a meeting. Ever."

It was your fault he missed the meeting. 

"Your clan has been generous to my businesses for years," your dad reminded him. "Believe me when I say I’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose by going against you and Steve."

“I want to believe you, I do, but I have to take action. You understand."

You stiffened before you yanked the door open and rushed inside. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“Where the hell are the guards?" your dad asked, his eyes wide as he stood up from his desk chair. "You shouldn't be here. Get out. Now!"

He was never afraid.

The man across from him slowly rose to his feet. With his tall, broad build, he could’ve been mistaken for a wolf. Even with his back toward you, you sensed his power. You shivered when he turned his head toward you, his eyes the coldest you had ever seen. 

How could someone carry death in a stare?

“You must be the daughter.”

The dark, melodic voice threatened to bring you to your knees. You had spoken to vampires before, but none had ever affected you like this. “I am. And you must be James Barnes. Your reputation precedes you."

His gaze swept over you as you did the same to him. His elegant black suit looked tailored to perfection. Not a single hair was out of place. You had to admit he was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Vampires had no right to be so pretty. 

And this vampire wanted you.

“I am. And I can see why your father refused to bring you to meetings or let us meet. The photos I've seen of you are beautiful, but they don't do you any justice.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. Men said whatever they could to get in your pants, but this man believed you were a vision of beauty. You couldn’t let that distract you.

“I’m the reason he missed the meeting.”

"What are you doing?" your dad asked in your mind. "We agreed not to say anything."

"It's the only way."

You didn’t see James move as you blinked, refusing to let him intimidate you when he stood in front of you and gripped your chin with a cold hand. “You smell good.”

“James, please," your dad begged, holding his hand out as the cabinet across the room flew open. He kept a range of weapons to use against various creatures if necessary. "Don't hurt my daughter."

“It’s okay, dad. He won't,” you said, which was enough to make your dad lower his hand before he could summon a weapon.

"You sure about that?" James asked.

"If you wanted to hurt me, you would've done that already," you said as your eyes locked with his. "And if you do, you won't get the answers you're looking for."

"I'm listening," he said, brushing a finger over your neck. 

“My dad didn't put a hit out on anyone. I had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen the day of the meeting. Really bad. I begged him to stay home," you explained. 

"You're psychic?” he guessed as he loosened his grip. “I’m told your entire family has gifts.”

It was no secret that your father and mother possessed psychic abilities, like their ancestors had for many generations. Vampires had a tough time compelling you unlike regular humans. It made your bloodline special. A blessing or a curse depending on who you spoke to. 

"Not exactly. More like claircognizant. I can't see the future, but I just know things without any tangible evidence."

"That's convenient," James said.

"I can also sense feelings, like if someone is lying or has bad intentions. My instincts aren't wrong. They never have been,” you explained, nodding to your dad. “You had every intention of killing him before I walked in because you thought he betrayed you and your friend. He didn’t. Listen to my heart beat if you think I’m lying.”

The steady rhythm told him you were telling the truth.

"If you can sense my intentions, what do you think I want to do to you?"

"Everything," you whispered. "And you know my dad didn't do anything. You're just looking for someone to take your rage out on."

James raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “I’m sorry I suspected your father. He's a good man, but I've been burned in the past by people I thought were allies. You’ll have to understand that trust isn’t easy for me," he explained as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, not caring that your dad was watching. You almost sucked the digit into your mouth. "So you just knew he shouldn't go to the meeting."

"I did."

James hummed, sparing your dad a glance. "If these abilities of hers are that good, why have I not heard anything about them until now?"

"Because she's my daughter," he said, stepping around the desk when the vampire turned his attention back to you. "She isn't yours to use."

"We'll see about that." The flash of fangs when James smiled didn't frighten you. "What else can you do?"

"Have you heard of personal illusion?"

"Tell me more, darling."

"I was only going to kill your father if he set me up. I happen to like him," Bucky reminded you, making you blink the memory away. He wouldn't have been able to let a hit on him go unpunished. Your dad would've done the same. "Did you realize the danger you put yourself in by revealing to me what you could do?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I got a lecture about it later," you said, picturing Bucky smiling and shaking his head on the other end of the line. "But, thankfully, my dad didn't hold a grudge against you and I trusted you."

"Even when I suggested you sit in on my next deal to sniff out the rat? You still weren't suspicious of me?"

"Even then," you smiled. "I knew you needed answers, but you also wanted me around because I intrigued you."

"You still do."

Your dad didn't like the idea at first. As a telekinetic with limited telepathic ability, he admitted his gifts likely wouldn't find the culprit for Bucky. Not if he wanted it done quickly. You had a much better chance.

"Keep my daughter safe."

"You have my word."

Bucky instructed you to stay close to him, which meant he had you on his lap the moment he took a seat. A portion of the men wanted to fuck you, assuming you were a whore when Bucky didn't introduce you by name, and their intentions slightly overwhelmed you as they leered. Not that it took much of a push. They saw what you wanted them to see.

Steve Rogers was the only other one there who knew who you really were. 

"Stroke their egos, darling. They like that."

You stayed strong and played dumb, the way you were told to. Laughed at a joke here and stroked Bucky's hair there. You wondered if you played the part too well when you wiggled your hips in the vampire's lap, but you couldn't help your attraction to him.

Especially since he was a heartbeat away from taking you on the table. 

"Don't start what you can't finish," he warned you against your neck. "Business first."

You knew the moment Bucky brought up Alexander's death and the unsuccessful assassination of him and Steve that the leader of the Rumlow clan, Brock, was to blame. It would be discovered later that he double crossed Pierce and set up the hit in order to claim more territories. He was furious that the attempt failed, but cleaned up his tracks enough to go undetected by the others. Even Bucky hadn't known.

Brock would have taken you for the night and drained you dry if he had the chance. 

When you excused yourself, unable to hold the illusion of yourself you created for much longer, you winked and smiled playfully at the men. As you passed Brock's chair, you bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Bucky locked eyes with you as you pulled the door shut behind you. 

He dubbed it the "Kiss of Death". 

Because anyone who fucked with him wasn't going to leave in one piece. 

"That was the first night we made love," Bucky said, his voice moving along your skin as if he were there. 

You pressed your thighs together, but it didn't give you any relief. His voice alone puts you on the edge of bliss. "Would you call it 'making love'?"

"I fucked you and I made love to you."

You waited in Bucky's suite for hours after the meeting, which gave you a chance to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. It was devoid of anything personal, a strange mix of luxury and comfort. The only thing that gave away who the place belonged to was the family crest above the fireplace.

A beautiful, lonely room. 

You passed the time reading on the chaise lounge before the double doors flew open. Bucky's eyes glowed an unnatural blue as he walked in, his hair disarrayed and clothes covered in blood. Brock's blood. You felt the battle within him to claim you as his own or let you go on your way. You owed him no loyalty, yet you helped him. 

And you asked for nothing in return.

"Leave or I won't stop myself."

You stood up and faced him, wordlessly baring your neck. He wouldn't claim you without speaking to your parents, but the beast inside him raged. You were willing to satisfy him for the night.

It was only the beginning. 

"Never tasted anything as delicious as you. I nearly lost control."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, knowing full well he dismissed any blood mistresses he had after he met you. 

"Only to the girl I love," he whispered. 

You touched your neck, knowing by heart where he bit you the first time. Buried deep inside your wet walls, he sank his fangs into your neck and took enough blood to satisfy his craving. Every cell in your body hummed with pleasure as he drank and left you dizzy and aching when he finished. 

"Can you feel how much I love you?" 

"I can," you whispered. 

You felt it in every glance, touch, kiss. Each whispered word against your ears, lips, and skin. He showered affection upon every inch of you until no place was left untouched. 

His love for you only grew when he asked for your hand in marriage after a few months. 

Once he spoke with your father and assured the protection of your family and territory, he agreed. Your little brother actually hugged Bucky when he heard the news and asked him to always be good to you. You may be his big sister, but he still felt the need to protect you. Bucky promised he would always take care of you. 

"You love me and my blood was so good, you put a ring on it," you teased. 

Bucky burst out laughing, the sound bringing a smile to your face. Hardly anyone made him laugh. "Yes, darling, you're just that good."

You held your hand up to look at the ring on your finger. The large, teardrop ruby flashed in the faint light. He chose it because it reminded him of blood and the promise you made to him.

The tiniest shackle to bind people together, but it wasn't heavy or a burden.

"And if I'm that good, I'll have you knocked up during our honeymoon."

"Bucky!" you smiled in spite of yourself, knowing your parents secretly wanted grandchildren. 

"What? With our bloodlines, our child might be stronger than both of us."

"Not might. Our child will be stronger than us if we have one," you said. 

Another reason why someone would want you dead or taken away from Bucky. 

"You said we'd keep each other safe. We'll protect our child, too."

"Why don't we concentrate on finding Steve a mate first and then kids?" you suggested.

"We can do both."

"I thought I needed to sleep," you smiled at his stubbornness.

"I'm giving you something to think about so you have good dreams. A beautiful wedding, blissful honeymoon, and bright future," he said. 

You knew you'd dream of him tonight. 

"Thank you, Bucky. I think I can sleep now."

"Good. Rest, my love. You need it."

You shivered at the underlying promise as you hung up. He was right. You needed to rest. If you let your thoughts consume you, you wouldn't get any sleep. Bucky didn't need a grouchy bride. 

Your phone dinged before you could set it down, seeing a message from the devil himself. 

"If you're reading this, you aren't sleeping. Bad girl."

You laughed as you typed back to him. "You did that on purpose."

"I may have. Since I have your attention…"

Oh, the three dots. This'll be good. 

"Tomorrow, on our wedding day, I'm going to recite my vows twice."

Your brows furrowed as you saw him typing more. Why would he recite them twice? To make the words sink in?

"Once at the altar. Once again in the bedroom."

Oh.

"With my tongue."

OH. 

"On your pussy."

Fuck.

"One letter at a time."

Fuck. Oh, fuck. No. I need to sleep. I don't need that image in my mind.

"You'll know in your soul that you're truly mine."

You tried to think of a coherent or witty response, but only one thing came to mind. 

"I love you, Bucky Barnes."

You set your phone down before you could see if he typed a response back. If he could make your knees weak, you'd do the same to him. Nothing made him weaker than your love. 

It also made him stronger.

Touching the empty spot beside you, you wished Bucky was there. Maybe he would surprise you and sneak in. If only to kiss your forehead and remind you that you were in this together. Because after tomorrow, there was no going back. You would belong to James Buchanan Barnes.

Forever.

We'll see our new couple again in future fic Down to Sleep. We may also get an alpha for another reader. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky barnes x reader #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #vampire mob!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #vampire!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #vampire mob!bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐙𝐄 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is my submission for @bastardblvd's Wet Hot Slimeball Summer Collab. My prompt was ☀️lifeguard☀️. Special thanks to the love of my life, @strawberrystepmom, for beta reading this. [ SYNOPSIS ] LOCAL LIFEGUARD LETS CUTE GIRL DROWN SO HE CAN PLAY THE HERO AND GET PUSSY [ WORD COUNT ] 1.8k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, mostly written from Zeke's POV, no plot; no problem (jk there are problems), manipulation, dubcon, predator/prey vibes, lowkey somnophilia (y/n is barely conscious), oral sex (f receiving), public-ish sex, jerking off.

Zeke didn’t consider himself a bad guy. He was well-mannered, his politeness instilled in him by his late mother, and pretty nice if he put his mind to it. He was a hard worker and the first to jump into the water to save someone. His experience was unmatched, having been stationed at the same beach since he was a teenager, and his knowledge was unparalleled. His boss had even dubbed him the boy wonder…

No, Zeke wasn’t a bad guy…

He just did bad things…

Like letting pretty girls get themselves into trouble so he could rescue them from the big, bad ocean.

But who could blame him? Temptation was lurking around every corner. It was like a siren’s song, leading him astray and drowning him in inebriating waters. He simply couldn’t control himself sometimes. It’s not his fault he was bogged down by his carnal desires.

And it’s certainly not his fault that you came to the beach on a quiet Monday morning. He spotted you from the lifeguard tower, his eyes glued to you. You looked like an angel making your way across the sand, your white billowy cover up trailing behind you, caught in the gentle sea breeze. His cheeks grew warm as you unbuttoned it, revealing a matching white bikini underneath. It looked heavenly against your sun kissed skin.

Zeke knew he should tell you about the three rip currents plaguing the beach, but where was the fun in that? He opened the door to the tower and stepped down, watching you as you waded in the turbulent water. You looked so unaware of the danger surrounding you. All it would take would be one big wave to knock you down and then you’d be swept out to sea.

“Be careful,” he shouted through his megaphone. He needed to at least seem diligent.

You turned, your back facing the ocean, a rookie mistake.

“I will,” you hollered back.

He could barely hear you over the waves licking the shore. Thankfully he didn’t care. He was too caught up in the sneaker wave heading towards you. By the time you noticed it was too late, and the wave knocked you off your feet. You fell forward on your hands and knees, and tried to anchor yourself, but the water kept rushing in, gradually submerging you. As it began to recede the waves pulled you away from the shore and into the untamed ocean.

Zeke smirked. You didn’t seem too phased as you casually treaded water. He assumed you would have panicked and flailed around, wasting your precious energy. He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Your inconceivable skills decimated his plan. He exhaled deeply and debated pursuing you in a more socially acceptable manner. At this point it was the only way.

Contemplating such a thing made his mouth fill with saliva. He couldn’t bear the thought of attempting small talk or suggesting you two grab a drink. It was wholly against his nature.

And lucky for him he wouldn’t have to.

Another sneaker wave consumed you, leaving no trace of your existence. Grabbing his rescue board he made his way down the beach and into the water. When he pulled your limp body onto the board, you were sedated and calm. He always loved an easy rescue.

“So stupid,” you murmured.

He looked down at you, his eyes trained on your exposed breast. The chilled ocean water left your nipple erect. It practically demanded his attention.

“You’re fine,” he cooed. “The water’s deceptive today. Don’t beat yourself up.”

His tone was saccharine, terminal in its sweetness. He was amazed he was able to mask his hunger. Seeing you so defenseless made his cock throb. You weakly smiled and muttered a muted “thank you” before drifting away as Zeke took you back to shore.

“Let me take a look at you in the tower. I want to make sure you’re okay,” he said, lifting you up.

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, not that you would’ve been able to. You were hardly in a position to exercise your agency. All you could do was gaze up at him sleepily, worn out from your battle against the waves.

The inside of the lifeguard tower was cramped. Sand littered the floor. The hot air was thick with the smell of sunscreen and salt water. He sat you down in the lone chair and stared down at your exhausted body. He lifted your chin. Your dazed look made his heart race. He got down on his knees and extended one of your bent legs. His weathered hands were rough against the tender flesh of your thighs.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked even though he honestly didn’t care.

You shook your head.

“I’m going to check you for injuries anyway. Better to be safe than sorry,” he recited.

He caressed your limbs, taking in every inch of you. His hands wandered your body, his eyes consuming it. It was hard to believe such a stupendously lifeless angel was gracing his presence.

“How do you feel?”

“Like… I need to… sit down for… a while,” you mumbled.

Your eyelids were so heavy; you could barely keep them open. But overall you seemed in good enough shape. Zeke couldn’t have had better luck.

“I think I can manage that,” he said warmly as his cock continued to throb. “I need to keep an eye on you for a bit anyway.”

“No. Go and…. do—do your job. I’ll be okay here by”—you yawned—”myself.”

Zeke placed his hands on your hips, his grip tight and commanding.

“I’d be a pretty shitty lifeguard if I left you in here on your own,” he said. 

His grey eyes were dark with ache. You let out a weak laugh and wiped away the sand that had dusted your cheek. You mumbled an apology. He shushed you and hooked his fingers under your bikini bottoms. You exhaled sharply and he paused.

“What?” he asked playfully. “C’mon.”

Your face was adorned with a pathetic, little frown. It hardly deterred him, but he decided to play nice. He cupped your face with a calloused hand. His cock was chafing against his board shorts.

“Don’t you want to properly thank me for my efforts?” he asked, running his finger along your bottom lip.

You hesitated.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he purred, sounding more inelegant than he would’ve preferred. He slipped two of his fingers into your mouth. “If anything I’m doing you a favor on top of saving your life.”

Your mouth was soft and warm. He wanted to fuck it.

“You deserve some comfort after everything you’ve been through,” he said, pressing down on your tongue.  His tone was slightly more urgent, more insistent. “Don’t deprive yourself.”

You did nothing in protest, entrusting him with your life once more. Seeing you surrender yourself did wonders for his ego and made his balls feel tight. Your steadfast silence was heavenly. He always preferred the quiet type.

He took his fingers out of your mouth, staring at your lips. He thought about kissing you, but that was too intimate. You were prey, nothing built to last. His eyes trailed down your body, lingering on your breasts. He untied your bikini top and watched as it fell unceremoniously to the floor.

He took your erect nipple between his lips and sucked. He wondered if you could feel his beard against your skin, and if you noticed how he kept his well-oiled and trim. You hummed as he swirled his tongue around your nipple. 

You sighed heavily and made a feeble attempt at curling your toes. It was so cute. He couldn’t help but whimper a little.

Your skin was salty, still dappled with water. The ocean’s cruel touch left your skin clammy. But it did little to deter him. He didn’t care if you were warm, he just cared if you had a heartbeat or not.

He pulled away from your breast and peeled off the rest of your bikini. He positioned himself between your thighs and buried his face in your cunt, his nose brushing up against your clit. Your scent was ambrosial and dizzying. He spread apart your folds with his tongue, savoring the taste of your arousal.

Zeke looked up at you, meeting your sleepy gaze. He swept his tongue along your cunt before slipping the tip inside. A small whimper fell from your lips. He did it again, relishing the sound of your voice.

“Yes…” you mumbled as he lapped at your folds.

He felt like his cock was going to burst. He pulled his cock out of his board shorts and palmed its aching tip. It was dewy with precum. He gripped the length of it and stroked. Euphoria enveloped him.

He sucked on your clit as your soft moans filled the lifeguard tower. He felt insatiable and couldn’t stand the thought of this moment ending. In a perfect world you would be his little pet, one he could consume at any time. The sweet taste of your arousal would always be within reach.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his gruff voice muffled by your cunt.

More precum dribbled from his tip and he began to rut against his fist. He showed neither himself nor you any mercy. He was relentless as he feasted on your cunt. You writhed in your seat, your body falling victim to the debauchery Zeke unleashed.

He made eye contact with you, his lustful gaze unwavering.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come all over my tongue?” he asked as he furiously jerked himself off.

“Uh-huh,” you said, placing your hand on the back of his head.

Your touch sent him over the edge. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together, but he refused to come before you. He grabbed onto your hips and rolled his tongue against your clit, trying to ignore his swollen cock. He continued to hold your gaze.

“Oh my god,” you murmured, pushing his head deeper into your cunt.

Zeke struggled to ignore how sweet you sounded as your orgasm washed over you. The relief he felt once you finally stopped was immense. He stood up and tried in vain to wipe away some of your arousal that had soaked his beard.

His cock was heavy in his hand as he pulled on its length. He was so close, he could taste it. He felt like he was going to burst at any second. He watched as you shut your eyes and seemed to doze off. He couldn’t help but be a little heartbroken. You were supposed to be marveling at him and his beautiful cock. He snapped his fingers by your ear while he fucked his fist. 

“Look at me,” he growled.

Your eyes fluttered open and stared at him. His entire body was flooded with warmth as long, thick ropes of cum splattered against you. He couldn’t control his hearty moans as he watched it drip down your skin. You looked so confused, so lost, and it was exactly what he wanted.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke jaeger smut #.fics #.aot #.zeke #x reader #reader insert

[scekrex]

CRACK FIC, I CHOOSE YOU

So, Adam and reader being at a talking stage where they just meet up to hang out for a bit, somehow got shit face drunk, maybe someone snuck in alcohol for them since they had "debt" to pay off for Adam (Like he did them a favour or smth and he just kept it for the right moment). Lute just finds them giggling and shit, before reader goes quiet as he thought about all the times Adam did something so questionable that he wondered if God was actually in any way active in Heaven. He looked quite distressed at Lute and pointed at Adam before saying: Please... Look at him and tell me if there's a God, right here in Heaven or is he on vacay?

Lute just looking at him like: The fuck? 🫥 And Adam in the back just giggling even more, swaying to the side and leaning on reader's shoulder to proudly, with the biggest grin ever, say: He made me in his own image 😁

Mwah, don't speed with this, take your time writing your masterpieces AND HYDRATE YOURSELF DAMN IT. Love you ❤️

Me stressing out over finishing requests? I'd never (that's a fucking lie) but HERE YA GO CUTIEPIE I hope ya like it, missed ya crack fic requests babes <3 I love you too dear

If God's watching then we're both sinners

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, sexual tension, sexual implied content (near the end), non-responsible use of alcohol

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Sup bitch,” you yelled as you kicked open the door to Adam’s apartment while you also did your best to not drop any alcohol bottles. Adam had some fucking nerves, that was for sure. That dude had called you in the middle of the night and asked you to come over with alcohol. Alcohol, which was considered a drug and strictly forbidden in heaven. But you owed him, so you haven’t had much of a choice.

“Living room,” the first man yelled back at you and you sighed as you kicked the door shut behind you, of fucking course Adam wouldn’t help you carrying the shit. Fucking bastard. So it was up to you. “Some help would be fucking nice,” Adam looked up from his phone, a smirk appeared on his lips the second he laid eyes on you, completely ignoring your demand he commented, “Someone got dolled up for me, huh babes?” You huffed as you put down the bottles one by one, careful not to break the glass. “In your fucking dreams,” you shot back, a mix betweeen annoyance and joy puddled up inside of you as you watched Adam getting up from the couch. Of course that fucking bastard was just wearing a shitty band shirt and fucking boxershorts. Teasing fuckhead. “Oh nah shawty, in my dreams I’m fucking ya,” you were torn between punching him in the face and telling him to pin you down and fuck the living shit out of you. You put the drinks down onto the table as Adam rounded the table to walk up to you. His wing tilted your chin upward, forcing you to look at him, his hair was messy, not the kind of messy they were when he took off his mask but rather a bedhead kind of messy, it suited him. His eyes held kindness in them, kindness for you. Ever since you guys had mentioned upcoming feelings for each other Adam had turned into a fucking tease and you didn’t know if it was because he simply liked how you reacted or if he wanted you to finally ask him out. You had been on a date with him twice, it had always been fun. On the first date he had taken you out to see your favorite band - that cocky bastard had managed to get his sneaky fingers on some pretty rare VIP tickets. On the second date it had been a bit more simple, you had taken him out to get ice cream and then have dinner together. This was apparently your third date - well was it a date? Maybe so.

The softness of his feathers felt smooth against your skin, you liked the feeling of those golden feathers of his, they felt cool yet they kept you warm and cozy. And they came hand in hand with Adam providing physical touch, so it was a win-win thing.

“You brought the good stuff, I see where this is going,” the cocky smile on his lips was met by an amused one of yours, a quiet snort escaped you at his comment, “What? Ya wanna fill me up ‘n’ fuck me?” Adam tapped his chin as if he was actually considering it for a moment - the offer sounded tempting, that the first man had to admit. But he shook his head, “Nah, I’d rather fuck you while you’re sober. That way you’ll remember the handsome face behind that fire feeling dick.” You playfully punched his chest before you turned around to head into the kitchen in order to get shot glasses. Your wings hit him lightly as you did so and you heard him grumble something inaudible, it made you chuckle. Because while you enjoyed flirting with Adam, you also enjoyed having the upper hand from time to time, to let him struggle a little. Playing hard to get was kinda funny, that you had to admit.

-

You had stopped refilling the tiny little glasses a while ago, you watched as Adam took a swig from the bottle he held firmly in his hand, watched in fascination as his adams apple worked when he swallowed the burning liquor. “Fuck you look hot, “ you mumbled as you watched the brunette, he cracked one of his eyes open to look back at you and grinned against the bottle that was pressed against his lips. He gulped the liquor down, lifted the bottle from his mouth and grinned, “Hot enough to fuck your cute ass?” And for the love of God, you couldn’t take this man seriously when you were sober, given that you were wasted, trashed even, you simply started giggling like a maniac, your sitting position shifted into one that would be described as curled up into a ball. You held your tummy as you giggled and giggled, not able to stop. “What’s so funny?” the first man asked, slowly the giggling started to influence him as well even though he had no idea why you were reacting the way you reacted. “Just imagine-” you had to interrupt yourself, the laughter that bubbled from your throat was too strong to hold back.

The door unlocked which caught your attention, the fact that Lute was entering Adam’s apartment only made the situation funnier for you - why you once again didn’t understand. But you weren’t the only one, Adam was also curled up on the floor, giggling like crazy. “Are you two-” she didn't even finish to ask if you guys were okay once she spotted the empty alcohol bottles that were scattered all across Adam’s living room. “We’re fucking fineeee, Lute,” Adam whined between giggles and laughters. Were they, though? She doubted that.

The exorcist noticed how quiet you were all of a sudden and she raised an eyebrow at you when you got up from the floor - it took you three tries to stand up but you made it - and walked over to her. Your hands came to rest on her shoulders and she tilted her head backwards to bring as much space between you and her as physically possible, you strongly smelled like alcohol - the strong kind. “Lute,” you whispered, or well, that’s what you thought, in reality you were speaking quite loud, loud enough for Adam to hear, “Look at him,” you slightly turned away from the lieutenant to point at Adam, in your head you were really subtle about it. Reality was something different, a whole different world. You acted so obviously that even drunk Adam noticed what was going on. He watched you with curious eyes, now that he was the main topic of the conversation between you and Lute. “Look at this bastard and tell me there’s a God, right here,” you pointed to the floor, “In heaven. With us,” you looked back at Adam, who was desperately trying to get up but kept falling onto his ass until he finally managed to stand up, he was swaying from side to side as he walked over to you and Lute, “Or is the big G on vacay?”

Lute just looked at you in confusion, your question was so stupid yet so justified, even she wasn’t able to answer it, because while she would never say it with Adam in the room, the first man sure knew how to make questionable decisions.

Adam wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you flush against his side as he looked down at you with a proud smirk on his face and spoke, “He made me in his own image.” Your eyes locked onto his and a cocky little smirk found its way on your lips as you responded, “Well, God’s image is fucking hot, then.” Lute simply decided it was best to ignore you two - you had been flirting with each other for so long, way before you had reached the ‘talking stage’ - as you called it. And she was getting tired of it. She picked up the empty bottles and carried them into the kitchen to throw them away, she didn’t need one - or even both of you - getting hurt because of some broken glass.

When she exited the kitchen to continue to clean up after your drunk asses and send you to bed afterwards, she was quite surprised to find you two kissing - well if you could call it that, to her it looked more like Adam was trying to shove his tongue down your throat as deeply as physically possible, yet you seemed to enjoy it. She pulled out her phone, took a quick picture and then separated the both of you just to guide you both into Adam’s bedroom, “And do me a favor, if you fuck, do it quietly.” Then she left the room and locked the door behind her.

It only took you a couple seconds before you pushed Adam down onto his bed and climbed into his lap to continue the interrupted makeout session.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 4

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 8.1k

Content: none! there is no content lmaooo nah there is just none that needs to be warned for, I don't think, so enjoy freely!!!!!

A/N: I know, I know, it's taken an age but here we are!! And I'm honestly kind of nervous to see how people react!!!! huge thank you to my betas @blog-name-idk @amethystwritesbts and @here2bbtstrash

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

Chapter Four – Someone Old, Someone New 

The message came in shortly after lunch. 

Mei.97: hey girl! Long time no see!!! I’m going to be in Seoul this week, pleeeeaaasse tell me you’re free for dinner tomorrow?!!? It’s been too long!!! Xxx 

You had to read the message twice to be sure you were reading it right. You hadn’t heard from Mei—an old university friend—since your first ‘breakdown’. You wondered what on earth she could want. But you weren’t in any position to be turning down an outreached hand. 

You: sure! It would be great to see you! 

A few months ago, that would have been a huge lie. Now, it was only a little one. You weren’t looking forward to having to smooth over the details of your breakdown, or your break-up, but you had been close as students and it would be easier with her—she moved back to Busan after graduating, so you could put a little bit of the blame for your losing contact on that, too. You knew you weren’t quite there yet, but you felt like you were healing, you were making progress; you sometimes even felt, on occasion, pretty good about life. And you wanted to share that.  

The first thing you heard upon walking into the bar you had suggested was the loud screech of your name. Then Mei was running over. You had barely even noticed her before she was wrapping her long arms around you in a huge hug. Her hair was as long and silky as it had ever been; she was still wearing the same perfume she always used to wear, and too much of it, as she always had; she looked almost exactly the same, except a little richer, a little chicer, like someone who had truly settled into themselves. She outshone the whole restaurant and looked as if she didn’t notice, as she always used to. The real world didn’t seem to have dimmed any of her at all. You were pleased with yourself that this didn’t make you completely sick with envy. 

“Girl, oh my god, it is so good to see you! You look amazing! I can’t believe it; you’ve barely changed! Love the hair, though,” she announced to basically the whole bar. 

You’d forgotten that she was possibly the only person in the world who was louder and talked more than you did. You’d forgotten how much you liked her. You had no need to be nervous, you realised, because it would never occur to her to judge someone; she just wasn’t that sort of person because she wouldn’t even have the time for it. She was more than just a rolling stone: this rolling stone had an engine and jet fuel. 

“I ordered a bottle of wine because I wasn’t sure if you were still into the same drinks and I figured, wine is a safe option, right? You want some?” she asked but she was already pouring into your glass. “Tell me everything, babe. It has been so long. What is up?” 

You took a deep breath. Where to start? 

* 

You marvelled at how painless the night had been. It was fun. Somehow, despite all the discussion you’d had about your life since university, your life now, it wasn’t painful. Not really. Mei was single, too, and courting every man in Busan before her parents tightened the screws on her to settle down. She was enjoying working for the family business (if a corporation can be called merely a ‘business’). She was earning a salary that made you wince and made her promise dinner was on her. You were doing reasonably well in your career, too, actually. You were earning enough to live in Seoul on your own. Things weren’t perfect, but Mei was such a positive and enthusiastic steam-roller that she made you feel like you were thriving, not wilting. She was exactly what you needed.  

You were just wishing that she didn’t have to leave Seoul, that she could move and stay forever when she took her ice-cream spoon from her mouth and looked sheepishly at her empty bowl. 

“I have a confession to make,” she began. “I had a teeny ulterior motive for asking you to dinner.” 

Your stomach lurched. 

“Oh?” 

“You remember my cousin Sungbin? He came to visit that time at uni?” 

“The one we had to carry back to your room?” 

“You mean the one we had to find someone else to carry back to my room?” 

“Yes!” You laughed. “Yes, I remember! How could I forget?” 

He was a sweet, tall drink of water who accepted every shot and drink foisted on him by his cousin and her friends until he passed out in the bar. You and Mei had dragged him through the streets of Hongdae asking every passerby if they could help you get him home. You didn’t remember who actually helped or much of the rest of the night, but that arduous 100-meter drag was almost as painful as your hangover had been the following day. 

“What about him?” 

“Ok, so my uncle is retiring, right? He’s still going to be on the board but he’s retiring from his actual position so, of course, Sungbin, oldest son, he’s got to step up. He's moving to the big city, girl! Taking up a position at the HQ here. My ulterior motive is me asking you a huge favour.” 

“What’s the favour?” 

“He doesn’t know anyone here, right? Never lived here before. Would you maybe like, take him out for drinks or lunch or something – super casual, no big deal! – just so he’s got a friendly face? Give him some recommendations for stuff, I don’t know, just so he doesn’t feel overwhelmed and on his own?” 

You didn’t really know how to feel about it. Of course, you would. Of course, you would be happy to take Sungbin out, show him around, help him if he needed. You felt flattered that Mei would even ask you, that she thought you would be up to the job. That she thought of you at all, to be honest. Had you not just been thinking that you needed new friends? And now one was landing straight in your lap.  

It all felt a little too good to be true. It was too easy. Things had been too easy recently; this was just too much good, surely? You weren’t used to this. It felt wrong. Made you anxious. And, usually, that anxiety made you make things worse all on your own. But your therapist had told you to stop looking for the bad, to trust the good, appreciate its presence. You could do that. Right? You could do that. 

“Yeah, sure! Of course, I can take him out.” 

Mei dramatically fell to the table in relief and held tight to both your arms. 

“You are an angel! Thank you! Here’s the bad part, though: any chance you can do it tomorrow? I’m leaving in the morning and he’s going to be on his own for the first time since moving-” 

“Oh, he’s already here?” 

“Yeah! That’s why I’m here, girly! I helped him move! Any chance you’re free tomorrow?” 

You didn’t know how to say yes without letting her know that you were the sort of person who had no plans at the weekend but you didn’t want to say no because you were the sort of person who had no plans, and it would be nice to get out of the apartment. You did not look into the fact that she was asking you this last-minute, assuming you would have no plans already. You shrugged. 

“Yeah, I can do drinks or something tomorrow night?” 

“Babe, you are my favourite person in this whole world. I’m going to give you his number; just text him. He doesn’t know anyone here so he literally has nothing better to do and I’ve already told him I’d put you guys in touch.” 

From anyone else, that might have prickled a little; the assumptions might have rubbed you the wrong way, but Mei was relentlessly optimistic, having never had any real hardship in her life (she would admit to this, too), so she had never had any reason to believe that things wouldn’t go the way she expected. Far from wanting to burst her bubble, you wanted to protect her naivety. Because you wished you could have it, too.  

As you walked and subwayed and walked home, you thought about Mei and her life, and your life, and how different things could be. You wondered who you would be if you weren’t so broken, if your head could just have got its shit together—rather, if your head had never gone to shit in the first place. Would you have been like Mei? Would life have found another way to break you? Were things destined or was everyone, including the universe, just making things up as they went along?  

Could you ever be like Mei? Was anyone like her? Did she have secret pain?  

It wasn’t lost on you, the possibility that she wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as she seemed. The shock and surprise of everyone you knew when you ended up in hospital was almost the worst part. If you never heard someone say ‘I had no idea!’ again, it would be too soon. You thought about it a lot, how normal you were (or weren’t). You couldn’t believe that everyone else went through life not thinking the things you thought, that everyone else was somehow just able to get on with things without the sometimes-debilitating urge to sink into the floor forever. 

You shook your head, because you knew you weren’t supposed to be thinking like this. You’d had a really fun time with an old friend and you were going to have a really fun time tomorrow with a new friend. That was all. There was no need to ruin it by overthinking and second-guessing.  

You tapped a finger nervously on the bar as you sat on your stool. You used to come here a lot, or at least semi-frequently, but you hadn’t ventured into this part of the city since you moved out of the apartment you had shared with your ex. He got the apartment, so he got the neighbourhood, too.  

You couldn’t really miss it, not on its own, because your life had changed dramatically after the break-up: you moved somewhere else, lost most of your friends, and stopped going out. This was really the only ‘out’ that you knew. And, crucially, it was close enough to Sungbin to become his neighbourhood, too. So here you were, tapping at the bar, staring at the door, trying not to gulp your drink and be drunk before he even arrived.  

It was bright and hot and humid. It had rained solidly for three days and the water still hung in the air, clung to your skin, even as the sun tried its best to burn it away. You pressed your palm against your cold glass and tried to will yourself cooler without success. You already felt sticky with sweat and you didn’t know if that was entirely down to the weather, or if your nerves were also to blame.  

You knew you didn’t have to be so nervous. What was the worst that could happen? Taehyung had, very patiently, talked you through it: all possible outcomes, all likely scenarios, best- and worst-case situations; he had reminded you that you were an adult human being who knew how to speak to other people. You did. You did know. But it had been a very long time since you had been in this situation. It wasn’t a date. Obviously, it wasn’t a date, but it was the closest you had got to one for many years; you were meeting a man, in a bar, alone. You didn’t know each other; you were hoping he would like you.  

You took another gulp of your drink and repeated Taehyung’s words back to yourself. You reminded yourself of how good things were, ran through your gratitude list, tried to persuade yourself not to psych yourself out before the date (it was not a date! NOT. A. DATE.) had even begun. 

You had turned from the door, realising how awkward it might be for you to have to stare at each other as he walked towards you and were now just glancing over your shoulder every single time you heard the door open. To stop it being awkward. You had done well to pace yourself and it was as you lifted your glass to your lips for another sip that you heard someone call your name. You turned and came face to face with a man you knew could not be Sungbin. 

“Hi,” he said somewhat awkwardly as you continued to drink. “I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Mei’s cousin, Sungbin.” 

You gasped as you drank and it all came out in a choke and a splutter and you were blushing and fumbling to put your glass down, find a napkin, rewind time by ten seconds. The napkin came from his hand and you took your time drying your face and hands to try to will your blushes away. You were so embarrassed you could barely look at him.  

And there was so much of him to look at. This was not tiny, tall drink of water Sungbin from your university days. He was huge. He must have grown at least six inches taller, not to mention wider. His biceps were the size of thighs and his thighs were almost bursting out of his skinny jeans. You didn’t know where to look. 

“You can’t be Sungbin!” you cried. “You’ve got to be the guy that ate him!” 

He laughed and tugged at his hair a little self-consciously. 

“Yeah, I guess I’ve grown a bit.” 

“A bit!  You’re... You’re a hulk!”  

You were off your stool and gripping his bicep before he’d even finished the sentence—your fingertips didn’t even come close to touching. You were gawking, gaping, ogling this poor man without an attempt to hide it. You gestured broadly to his entire body with your other hand and only when you looked back up did you notice the blush on his face, the awkward way he averted his gaze. You stood back and gasped again, this time without choking. 

“I’m so sorry,” you told him. “Oh my god, that was so rude of me. I’m so sorry! What a dickhead! This is a terrible first impression for me to be making!” 

“Technically, not a first impression; we have met before.” He chuckled awkwardly. “And I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory then; I was, uh, a little worse for wear, I think.” 

“A little?! We were worse for wear; you were... the worst for wear! I’m amazed you survived.” 

“The joys of youth. Not sure I’d survive doing it now, just in case you had any ideas.” 

“Mei and I could barely get you home then, there is no way on God’s green earth I’d be able to carry you home by myself now! I wouldn’t risk it.” 

“So, we’re agreed then: both getting home in one piece?” 

You lifted your glass. 

“I’ll drink to that!”  

*  

You moved from one bar to the next, almost retracing steps you used to take in what felt like your former life. Sungbin paid great attention to where you were going and what else was around, cataloguing his new area, making notes for his new life. Your nerves were long gone, as were his, and you were enjoying a night out with a relative stranger as if you were a real person who did things like this: a real person who made new friends, who went out at the weekend, who had a proper life again. You had to pinch yourself to make sure this was all really happening, that this was all really going well. Your problems felt miles away, lightyears. You wondered if this is what it felt like to be normal. Whole. Fixed. You made a mental note to tell your therapist. 

You were on a roof terrace, carpeted with fake grass, decorated with fake flowers. Everything was clean and bright and the sun was still high in the summer sky. It was still a little too warm and a little too sticky, your glasses sweating as well as your bodies, but the lightest of breezes lifted the ends of your hair every now and then, and you couldn’t have imagined a more comfortable feeling than the soft rush of wind across your hot skin. You took seats under a white, wooden pergola where the sunlight was dappled through the fronds twisted along the frame.  

This heat usually enervated you, made you lethargic and sloth-like. That night, though, sitting under fake foliage, you felt solar-powered. There was a summer spring in your step. You felt, dare you believe it, like you were glowing. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. A brand new thing. A better thing. Being here, an old place, with Sungbin, a new friend, could have felt awkward, uncomfortable, like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole—you had expected it to—but no. You felt bigger and brighter, not smaller and duller. You were conscious of the possibility of your old life encroaching on your new one, the possibility of running into someone you used to know, but you decided to push those thoughts away. Compartmentalise them. Ignore them. You didn’t need them.  

Sungbin was talking about his ex. It was an awkward break-up; they’d not been together long enough for her to move to Seoul with him, or for him to even ask her to, but it had been long enough that it felt significant, felt like throwing something away when they ended things. But he was young and he wasn’t worried. You didn’t say it out loud but you thought to yourself that a man like him surely would never have to worry: looking like he did, having the position he had, being a sweet, polite kind of guy; women would be queueing up for even a chance with him.  

“I don’t really miss her that much, because there’s so much going on here that I haven’t really even had the time to. That, if nothing else, tells me it was the right decision for us.” 

The words reached your ears but didn’t go in. You could feel your heart pounding hard in your chest and sweat begin to prick in your palms. Your eyes had flicked over the crowd in front of you, people walking in and out, to and from the bar, looking for tables, looking for friends. They had skimmed over the faces of strangers until they hit upon someone familiar. The face had immediately disappeared back into the crowd, but you were sure it was him. It had to be. Why else would your whole body have gone into panic mode? Why else would your legs be like jelly? Why else would your fingers feel numb? A quiet ringing grew louder in your ears and you kept looking for him again, waiting for that dark head above a white shirt to break through the crowd again. You had to be sure it was him. 

“Are you ok?” 

You wanted to stand. You had to stand and get a better view. You wished it weren’t so busy. Why did it have to be a Saturday night? Why were all these people out?  

“Are you ok?” 

A touch on your arm drew you back and your head span to Sungbin. He looked confused, concerned. 

“I think I saw my ex,” you told him, your voice hoarse.  

“Ah. A bad break-up?” 

Your eyes had already gone back to the crowd, scanning and searching.  

FUCK. 

It was him. It really was him. It had to be. It couldn’t be.  

“Yeah, no, I don’t know,” you answered vaguely. 

You were still staring at him and then his eyes flicked to yours and you flinched so hard you almost knocked over your glass. You turned away, turned back; he looked as surprised as you were. He looked unsure. He looked like he was walking over to you. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you said under your breath, looking at the table, trying to work out how on earth you were going to handle this. You wondered, if you thought hard enough, if you would be able to make yourself disappear. You wondered if you could just run: leg it out of the bar as fast as you could and not look back. You felt dizzy. You felt sick. You felt... drunk. Too drunk. Of all the places and all the times you might have imagined seeing him again, this wasn’t one. This would probably be the very last place you’d have chosen to run into him.  

Sungbin’s hand was back on your arm, less tentative now. He scooted his chair closer to yours. His hand slid down your wrist and he tangled his fingers in yours. You could only look at him; you didn’t have the mental capacity to even form the question in your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” came his reply. “I got you.”  

Then he winked.  

“Hi.” 

You looked up and there he was. San. Just as he always had been. Maybe his hair was a little shorter, you could kid yourself there was an extra line or two on his face. But it was him, no denying. 

“Hi,” you squeaked back. 

You were trying to think of all the things you wanted to say to him, trying to think of all the things you could say to him, that would be appropriate to say to him here, in this bar, whilst holding the hand of another man. 

“Hi, I’m Sungbin.”  

He was confident. He stuck out his free hand and gave San a generous smile. 

“Oh, uh, San.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” San turned his face back to you. “How have you been?” 

You looked at Sungbin for help: this relative stranger, this potential new friend pretending to be your new boyfriend in front of your old boyfriend, this man who seemed to have much better control of this situation than you did. You could barely think at all. It was a desperate ringing, alarm bells, sirens wailing, a maelstrom of panic. Sungbin smiled at you. You had no idea how long you looked at him before answering, had no sense of time anymore. 

“Yeah, fine,” you said, eventually tearing your gaze from Sungbin to stare into San and the sun behind him. Sungbin gave your hand a squeeze. “Good, actually. You?” 

“Yeah, same old same old, you know how things are. Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Oh, that’s my fault.” Sungbin stepping in to save you again. “I live in the area so I’m always dragging her over this way.”  

You stammered for a second, trying to take in San’s surprise and Sungbin’s sweet, encouraging smile. 

“Y-yeah, he does,” you confirmed. “I don’t- I don’t mind, though, really.” 

“Mm, you always liked this bar. I remember.”  

“Yeah.” 

You noticed the way San’s eyes flicked to your hands, clasped together on the table, not just once but again and again. You wished you could peer inside his head, know what he was thinking.  

You were hardly thinking at all. Your brain was trying so hard to be quick that it had overloaded itself, stalled, got stuck. You couldn’t get over the fact of him, there, in front of you. It had been months. Seasons had changed since you saw him last. You had changed. Could he see that? Did you want him to? Did you want him to miss you? Did you want him to be bothered by Sungbin—gentle giant, Sungbin, holding your hand so casually, talking about you as if you really were together? You tried not to imagine what San was doing there, who he was with. You didn’t know if you would care. You wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was dating. He was a catch, you knew that.  

There were too many things happening at once, too many things to process. You felt like you were spinning out of control. What if San knew Sungbin wasn’t your boyfriend? What if he knew this was all pretend? What if he asked more about it? What if everything unravelled before your very eyes and the ground didn’t show mercy and swallow you whole? 

“Are you still living around here?” San asked you. “I would’ve expected to see you around more.” 

“Oh, uh, no. I’m over the river. I just-…"  

You couldn’t commit yourself to the lie, had to let yourself trail off just looking at Sungbin, desperate for a sign you were doing ok, you were playing this the right way. He grinned at you. 

“Like I said, my fault.”  

He shrugged with a light chuckle and San faintly followed suit, mouth moving but no sound actually coming out. 

“Right, well,” he began in the tell-tale way that said he was backing out of this conversation. “I’d better get back to my table. It was uh, nice meeting you, Sungbin. Good to see you, too-” his eyes rested on you, needled into you like he was searching for something specific in your face. “I’m glad you’re doing well.” 

“Yeah, me too. I mean, me for you, you know what I mean.” 

A genuine smile. And a nod. Then he was retreating back into the sea of people, disappearing and leaving no trace. No trace but the hammering of your heart. No trace but the sweat pooling in your palms and sticking your dress to your back. No trace but the sudden exhaustion of the relief you felt being out of his presence. Sungbin squeezed your hand again. 

“Bad break-up?” 

You rested your forehead on the fingers of your free hand and shook your head. 

“It was for me. It was the right decision but yeah, it was bad for me. I haven’t... I haven’t seen him since I moved the last of my shit out from our apartment – what used to be our apartment.” 

Sungbin nodded knowingly and placed his hand on top of yours just for a second. Then he let you go completely. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I realise I didn’t really give you a chance to disagree; I’m sorry about that. I-” 

You shook your head and waved your hand.  

“It’s absolutely fine,” you reassured him. “It was good, actually.”  

You were deeply grateful for his quick-thinking, presumptuous though it may have been. You wanted to splash your face with cold water, give yourself a shock, try to bring yourself back into the room. You didn’t want to look like you were still completely hung up on your ex; you didn’t want to look like a mess; you just needed a second to take a breath. 

“That was... not expected,” you went on, more for your benefit than for his. “I have thought so many times about what I would say and what I would do if I saw him again but I guess I never really believed it would happen and then suddenly, he was fucking right in front of me and I just felt like dying!” 

Sungbin laughed, as you knew he would, because it was a joke. It was a joke. But you didn’t not feel like dying for at least a second there.  

“When did you break up?” 

“Oh, months ago now. Kind of feels like I should be over it, I guess. I mean, I am, really. I just-...” 

“You were caught off-guard. I get it; it’s rough seeing them again.”  

It was rough. And you believed that he did get it. And he smiled at you so sincerely that you could have cried. It surprised you, that people could be nice to you; that people could like you, even; that people could see you and still smile at you. You looked at each other a little longer, Sungbin’s quiet calm radiating through you, your heartrate slowing and your spinning head coming to a stop. 

“Thank you,” you said as you picked up your glass to take a sip to cover awkwardness that only you felt. “That was quick thinking and um, yeah, I think it helped. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Sungbin shrugged.  

“You’re doing me a big favour tonight; it was the least I could do. Happy to be your fake boyfriend whenever you need!”  

He laughed and then you laughed and it felt good. You drained the last of your drink and Sungbin suggested you go somewhere else for your next one. You agreed. You didn’t look for San on your way out, just kept your eyes on Sungbin’s back as he led you, your hand in his (just in case), back through the bar and out onto the street. 

* 

“You don’t have to literally walk me to my door,” Sungbin said as you stepped into the lift with him. “I maintain that it should be me walking you home.” 

You shrugged. 

“That argument might hold water if you had even half a clue of how to get to my apartment. But you don’t. Besides, I was taking you out tonight; it only follows that I walk you back, too. Why break tradition?” 

Sungbin bit back a grin. 

“How long before I live that down?” 

“Oh, at least five more years.” 

“Well, if you’re going to make me suffer that, don’t you think we should do this correctly? Now, how did it go again?” 

He moved behind you and draped himself over your shoulders, slowly leaning his weight onto you. You cried out and could do nothing but collapse underneath him. 

“NO! I couldn’t carry you then; now you’re just trying to kill me!” 

You knelt on the floor of the lift with your hands outstretched above you, as if they would in any way hold him off. He straightened and pulled you up by them. 

“Fine,” he conceded as he stepped out at his floor. “But next time, you’re going to have to let me walk you home. Deal?” 

You shrugged. You nodded. You didn’t take that as a promise.  

“About your ex,” Sungbin started, standing in front of his door. 

“Yeah?” 

“Where exactly are you at with that?” 

That had you on the backfoot. You didn’t know how to answer the question for yourself, let alone for him. Your first thought was that you probably would have to ask your therapist; did she think you were over it? Would she think you had closure? You blinked and opened your mouth as if somehow an answer would fall out of it without your having to compile it first.  

“I just mean,” he continued, “are you dating? Would it be alright if I asked you out?” 

“Oh, uh, I-”  

Would it be alright? Wouldn’t it be? You had told yourself you were off dating. You weren’t ready for it; you had been emphatic when you’d said as much to Yoongi only a few weeks ago. Was that still true? You had spent so much time that day reminding yourself that this wasn’t a date, but... what if it had been? San aside, it had gone well, hadn’t it? You had had fun; Sungbin seemed like he had, too. He was the one who pretended to be your boyfriend first. Maybe... Maybe it would be ok? Maybe you were ready? There was only one way to really find out.  

“Yeah, I guess that would be fine.” 

He smiled. 

“Good. I’ll do that then.”  

He took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles; everything inside you fluttered. Then he winked and dropped your hand to enter his door code. 

“Text me when you get home safe, yeah?”  

You nodded, mute. He smiled at you again. 

“It was really nice to see you again.” And when he said your name, it sounded new.  

You didn’t leave immediately. Couldn’t. You stood outside his apartment, in shock, processing, looking at his closed front door, to the left, to the right, looking for an answer to what just happened. Sungbin did not just ask you out. But he did say he would. He was going to ask you out.  

And you had already kind of said yes.  

To a date. 

You fumbled in your bag for your phone and had it to your ear before you realised you absolutely had to leave, lest Sungbin hear you speaking. You scuttled back down the hallway and into the lift while Taehyung’s phone rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. You hung up and tried again. And then again. And then you sent him a text. 

You: TEDDY!!! PICK UPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

You tried calling for a fourth time and for a fourth time, you heard the automated voice of his voicemail service.  

You threw your phone back into your bag, defeated, but jittery with nerves and adrenaline. You could barely remember how this felt. In fact, with San you had seen it coming. You had engineered it. You had been flirting for weeks; you practically demanded he ask you out. Then he did. This had come out of the blue. Blindsided you. For the second time that evening. You were so shocked by Sungbin’s question that you had, momentarily, forgotten about running into San.  

What a fucking night. One that you had almost no idea how or where to start processing. Everything was-… you threw your hands in the air, by yourself, in the lift, shaking your head, completely bewildered. Taehyung was your go-to person for this. He was your sounding board. You picked up your phone to call him just one more time.  

* 

Your phone rang as you were changing into your pyjamas and you picked it up with your vest only half pulled down over your chest. 

“Teddy! Finally!” 

“Are you dying?” 

“No.” 

“Are you hurt or injured or maimed in any way?” 

“No.” 

“Then stop calling!” 

“Hey! I need to talk to you!” 

“Well, it’s going to have to wait, princess; I’m busy.” 

“Not even for five minutes?” 

“No.” 

“But I saw San!” 

There was a pause as Taehyung digested the information. 

“Are you ok?” he asked simply. 

“Yeah.” 

“Then it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow.” 

You heard a rustling in the background, another voice. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, turning your voice down to a loud stage whisper. “Are you with someone?” 

“... Yes.” 

“OH MY GOD! Oh my god, please tell me it’s the barista. Is it the barista? It is, right?!” 

“... Yes.” 

You squealed and fell onto your sofa to kick your feet in the air. 

“WE HAVE SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT!” you screamed down the phone. 

“Yes, but tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, fine, tomorrow. Oh my god. I am SO excited, Teddybear.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll talk to you later. I’m going now.” 

“Bye, Teddy!” 

“Good night, babe; love you.” 

“Love you!” 

It was entirely possible that you weren’t going to be able to sleep at all now.  

You squealed as you opened your door and let Taehyung into your apartment. He handed over an ice-cold, sweating cup of coffee and flopped onto your sofa.  

“Tell me literally everything,” you demanded. 

He merely shrugged. 

“Don’t be fucking coy, you piece of shit! I want to know everything! It’s THE BARISTA.” 

The barista worked at a coffee shop not far from Taehyung’s apartment. The barista was a fine, delicate-boned, ethereal beauty, probably the prettiest person you had ever seen in real life. Even Taehyung—unflappable, cool, calm and collected Taehyung—had been flustered the first time the barista had flashed him his pearly whites. And, last night, something had finally happened between them.  

“There’s really not that much to tell,” Taehyung countered. “I asked him out and he said yes.” 

You hit him hard with a cushion. 

“I said I want to know everything! And you can’t just say it like it was that simple; you’ve been daydreaming about that guy for months!” 

“Firstly, I was sussing out his situation. I understand tact and diplomacy and how to not say every stupid thing that’s in my head at any given moment-” 

“Uncalled for, but go on.” 

“-So I had to bide my time.-” 

“Also, you’re a massive chicken and he made you go knock-kneed and goo-goo-eyed.” 

“-Do you want me to tell you what happened? Or would you prefer to just make up your own version?” 

You cackled. 

“You know I’d love to make up my own story, but no, sorry, I’ll stop interrup-” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, babygir-” 

“Ok, now who’s interrupting?!” 

“I’m the one trying to tell you a story!” 

“Ok! Ok! Fine, spin your yarn and give me the entire confection, please.” 

* 

“I’m seeing him again tonight. Truth be told, I’d be with him right now if someone hadn’t already laid claim to my time.” 

“Teddy!”  

You felt bad for tearing him away from his One True Love, you did. But he’d already seen his success with the barista (Hyunjin to those in the know) and could go running right back to him as soon as he was done here. All you had was a too-warm apartment to stew in until whatever hour or day Sungbin would choose to actually, officially do the asking.  

“Come on, then,” Taehyung said, with a shrug, and nudged you with his foot. “How the fuck did you see San again?” 

Shit, that too.  

“Right, well, you know I was out with Sungbin last night—and, by the way, do NOT let me forget to show you his instagram. Oh my god. There are no words. And there’s also something else I need to tell you about him after this. But, yes, San, ok.” 

It felt like trying to describe a blur. You still didn’t know how you felt about it. The whole night felt surreal to you now, like a dream. It was frustrating to have met him but not really met him, to have seen him and not been able to talk. Everything that you had been working through—trying to work through—felt bundled up inside you and you wanted him to know. You didn’t need him to think you were dating again, you didn’t need to ‘win’; you needed him to know that you understood. That maybe there would always be some kind of thing between you—history, old intimacies like ink stains in your skin—but it didn’t mean that that past would hold you back forever. You wanted him to see that you understood that. 

But you came to those conclusions this morning, after a deep sleep, after another man had made implicit promises to ask you out. And, once he’d actually asked you, would anything you had to say to San matter anymore? Did it really matter now?  

“I don’t know how I feel about it because... I had this blind panic, y’know? But I don’t know why I panicked because San is a good person and I understand why he broke up with me and I don’t blame him for that and there really shouldn’t have been any reason for it to be awkward, right?” 

“I mean, another man pretending to be your boyfriend might make it a little awkward.” 

“Maybe... But that’s not Sungbin’s fault; he was trying to help. I thought I’d be cool seeing him again, because I’ve thought so much about things I want to say to him or would say if I could, but when he was actually in front of me, it was like I couldn’t think at all. I don’t know what that means.” 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. You were surprised.” 

“Yeah, but shouldn’t I be over him? Should he have that effect on me even now?” 

“I don’t think ‘should’ is a helpful word here, sugarplum. There is no should or shouldn’t about feelings; isn’t that therapy 101?” 

“I just don’t know... I guess I thought that seeing him again would make everything crystal clear, written in stone. Sure. But... Well—ok, the other thing is that Sungbin kind of asked me out.” 

“On a date?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What did you say?” 

“Well, he asked me if it would be alright if he asked me out. And I said yes. So he said he would. But he hasn’t actually asked me yet.” 

“And you want to know if you should go out with him or not?” 

“I guess?”  

You shrugged. You wanted to go out with Sungbin. You knew you wanted to because you could picture his smiling face and bulging biceps and you saw clearly, outside of the moment, how quickly and easily he stepped in to support you, no questions asked and no favours owed. He wanted to date you. You knew you wanted to date him. But- 

“I don’t want it to be a mistake,” you said.  

“That’s natural. No one likes making mistakes.” 

“No, I mean, I don’t want it to be a mistake for Sungbin.” 

“Why would it be?” 

You looked at him, trying to say, without saying, what you meant. Because it had been for San—you had been. He was better off without you and maybe Sungbin would be, too. He was young and rich and free; he had just moved to the biggest city in the country; he had the world at his feet. Were you really going to let him limit himself, stop himself at your door?  

Taehyung looked cross for a moment, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn, then he took a sip of his coffee (mostly iced water at this point) and, when he turned back to you, his gaze was softer.  

“Baby,” he cooed and he held his arms out to you. Despite the heat in your poorly air-conditioned apartment, you climbed into his lap and let him stroke your hair. “There’s only one way to know for sure if something’s a mistake and that’s to do it. Sungbin clearly wants to. If you also want to, then you’re just going to have to dive in. The water’s great.” 

You nodded and let him hold you, so grateful to him and all his tact and diplomacy and gentleness. He wasn’t always—or often—gentle with you, because usually that’s not what you needed and he knew it. Just like he knew that today, that was what you needed. 

“I do have one question, though,” he said and his hesitance made your stomach drop. 

“Ok.” 

“Where does Yoongi fit in with all of this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I don’t know; I thought you guys were-” 

“-Friends! Just friends! Have I not said it a million times?! We’re just friends! We’ve always just been friends!” 

“But you did have sex-” 

“ONE TIME!” 

You pushed away from him to better display your indignation and displeasure. Taehyung had a bee in his bonnet about Yoongi—had done since you’d first mentioned him—even though he didn’t know the guy, didn’t know anything. 

“Ok, ok!” He held his hands up in defeat. “I just sort of figured you guys were heading in that direction.” 

“Why?” 

“You seem to like him a lot.” 

“I do. Because we’re friends. I like you a lot, too, and we’re not going to shack up.” 

“Yes, love, but I’m gay and you are not a man.” 

You pushed him. 

“You know what I mean!” 

“I take your point. If you want to date Sungbin and feel good about it, then you have my blessing-” 

“I don’t need your blessing, Teddy; I can do what I like!” 

He fixed his eyes on you and simply waited you out. 

“Ok, fine!” you cried, exasperated, after probably not more than five seconds. “Thank you, yes, I did want your approval.” 

“And you have it, my sweet. As long as you’re happy and not being a complete idiot, I’m on board.” 

“I mean... Thanks, I guess?” 

"Don’t mention it.” 

“Babe!” you cried as soon as Yoongi step foot inside the classroom the following Thursday. You beckoned him closer, telling him to hurry, and grabbed him by the arm as soon as he was within reach. “I have so much to tell you.” 

He looked surprised, blinked, and then shrugged with a slight nod of his head. You didn’t pause for thought as you unloaded both your bags and your gossip onto the counter. You were sieving flour as you told him about your dinner with Mei; beating eggs into the mixture when you told him about drinks with Sungbin; and watching Yoongi almost drop the entire thing as he placed it in the oven when you mentioned San. 

“What was that like?” he asked with genuine, but guarded, curiosity.  

“A blur. Kind of a panicked mess but also fine. I sort of want a do-over but mostly for my pride, y’know? It was bumping into an ex, not actually meeting up with them so I think that made it better. But also worse because I had no time to prepare but there was also no opportunity to get into the difficult stuff which meant we didn’t have to get into it.” 

“Do you still want to do that? Talk to him?” 

“There’s a lot I want to say to him, but they are things I want to say more than things I think he would need or want to hear. If we met, it would be for my benefit and I don’t know if he deserves to be pulled in for that. Do you know what I mean?” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded.  

“And that was before Sungbin asked me out, too, so maybe I would be saying something different if that hadn’t happened.” 

“He asked you out?” 

Yoongi was turning towards his counter, looking at his sugar in his pan, turning on the hob, his head inclined just slightly towards you to indicate that he was listening. He needlessly pushed a hand through his hair which, far from tucking it behind his ear, made it fall in front of his face. You were, likewise, distracted by your sugar syrup and altogether too excited to take note of much else. 

“Yes!” you cried in answer. “So, on the Saturday he asked if he could and, obviously, I said yes. Then it took him until Wednesday to actually do the damn thing, but yes, he asked me out and I said yes and we’re going out tomorrow for our first actual date.” 

“Wow.” 

“I know, right? I had no idea it was coming—the bit where he asked if he could ask me out, I mean. We ran into my ex at drinks! And he asked me out?! And I was... I was discombobulated, you might say; I stood at his door for five minutes just in shock at what had happened. I was in disbelief. Especially because I wasn’t expecting it! At all. I mean, I was just doing Mei a favour! I didn’t think anything of it and now I can’t stop thinking about it! Or, well, him. I had forgotten how exciting this part is? It’s terrifying, yeah, completely horrifying, really, but I also just feel like I’m alive, y’know?” 

You paused briefly, glancing at the oven timer and stirring your syrup.  

“I just...” you started and then stopped, staring off into space to let the thought coalesce in your brain. “It’s so crazy that you can think one thing and then someone comes into your life and, suddenly, everything is so different. All it takes is one person to—ok, this is dramatic but you know me now so you’re going to have to let me be—change your whole life. A chance encounter? And suddenly I’m not the world’s loneliest, bitterest, most miserable single person alive? Suddenly, I have something to be excited about? To look forward to? I’m getting ahead of myself, I know I am, but I’m allowing it. I’m allowed to indulge in this because it’s been so long. I’ve been miserable for ages now. And I’m finally not. Don’t get me wrong when I say this, because therapy works, or at least it helps, it really does, but man, having a crush on someone is fucking electric, right? Years of counselling and it turns out nothing makes you feel the joy of being alive like when you really fucking like someone.” 

Yoongi hummed. 

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi angst #bts angst #suga x reader

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Legs - Jesse Cash x Reader

Pairing: Jesse Cash x Reader

Content Warning/Tags: 18+ MDNI! vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mild possessiveness, car sex, mentions of mental illness and self-destructive behavior, hurt/comfort, and some fluff at the end.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @cncohshit @foliosriot @sacredthefran

If you would like to be added to my tag list for Jesse or my other fics, please sign up here.

Author's Note: Not too long ago, @cncohshit and I were discussing how few fics there are about sweet Jesse. So, I decided I'd write up a little something. This is loosely based on Ghost Atlas' song Legs. Thank you as always to @deathblacksmoke for being my wonderful beta reader <3

dividers by @cafekitsune

The rain pours outside as you sit in your car. Heavy droplets pelt the roof of the vehicle. Even with your headlights on you couldn’t see more than two feet in front of you. The sound of the rain was so loud you could barely make out the song playing on the radio.

The World At Large - Modest Mouse, the screen read. Fitting, you think. 

You check your phone for the fourth, maybe fifth time in as many minutes. The text message you sent had been read but went unanswered. There were still no lights on in the house except for the glow of the red LED’s in his room. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d finally had enough.

It’s not like you could blame him.

Almost as if he read your mind, he appears in the headlights dashing towards your car. Quickly unlocking the door you let him in. He runs a hand through his damp mess of curls trying to catch his breath. He looks over at you and you forget how to breathe for a moment, his wide brown eyes staring into yours. 

“Hi, Jesse.” You say meekly. 

“You could have come inside, Y/N.” He states, giving you a quick once over. 

You shake your head, gently pushing his hand away when it comes up to examine your face. 

“It’s not a good idea, Jesse.”

Your legs twitch with need and you run your hands on top of your thighs to relax them. You can feel his gaze burning into your skin. It’s not a good idea to go inside. All of your self-restraint will go out of the window the second you step inside his home and you’re not here for that. 

You need him, but not in the way you normally do. Jesse is the only person you feel safe with. He’s the only person who can make you feel anything outside of sex. You’re a broken person. Full of spite and hatred for the world and you take it out on others. You use people to your benefit and abandon them without explanation. 

Unfortunately, Jesse has been a victim of your lies and self-destructive behavior more times than you care to admit. Every time he starts to get attached you panic and leave. For some reason, he always gives you another chance when you come crawling back to him.

Over the time you’ve known each other, you’ve come to realize that Jesse is in love with you. He has to be. No sane person would put up with your bullshit the way he does. But still, you can see the light in his eyes fading every time you leave. Even when you come back there’s an air of tension between the two of you, almost as if he’s dying to ask the question of “How long will you stay this time?”

“What have they done now, darling?” Jesse asks quietly, taking your hand in his. You lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes, knowing that if you looked at him the floodgates would open. 

He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb and squeezes it gently. It’s not a demand but a reminder that he’s there, ready and willing to listen. The gesture is so remarkably kind but you know you don’t deserve it. You feel your chest tighten and your eyes well up with tears.

“Nothing I didn't have coming to me.” You decide to leave it at that. 

You watch as Jesse studies you for a minute. It’s obvious there are a million things he wants to say but he chooses not to due to the fragility of the situation.  

“Why don’t you come inside? We’ll get you warm and dry. I can fix you something to eat.” He pauses. “Have you eaten today?” 

You shake your head. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren’t sure the last time you had a decent meal. Your brain and body have been running at 90 mph and food has been the last thing on your mind.

Jesse hums a sound of disapproval and pats your thigh. The entirety of your body tenses at his touch and he pulls his hand away immediately afraid he has crossed a line. The two of you stare at each other for a long time unsure of what to say before you abandon what restraint you have left and grab his hand. 

You place it on your inner thigh, much higher than it was previously. Jesse audibly gulps and squeezes the flesh experimentally. It’s endearing to you how he always gets nervous like it’s your first time together. Leaning forward, you grab his face to kiss him, parting his lips with your tongue. 

He sighs into your mouth, gathering the courage to push his hand under your dress. His index finger dips into the top of your thigh high stockings, running along the lace edge. He groans and shoves his tongue in your mouth, his free hand gripping the back of your head. 

“You know how much I love these, darling.” Jesse murmurs, kissing along your jaw. He snaps the band of the tights against your skin and goosebumps pop up, making you shiver. You feel him smile against your neck before grazing his teeth against the skin.

Jesse places his hand on your pussy, massaging you through your already damp panties. You arch into his touch and he wraps his arm around your waist. An unspoken request is made when he presses his arm into your back, guiding you towards him. 

Taking the hint, you crawl over the center console and he pulls you into his lap. His grip is bruising as he drags your hips against his hardened erection. The coarse denim of his jeans provides a satisfying friction that sends electricity through your body.

Jesse reaches down to lower the car seat a little so he can lean back. You follow him, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He pushes his hands up your dress, his calloused hands softly scratching your back. You hum at his soothing touch. He moves to unhook your bra but you feel his hands shake a little. 

“Are you okay?” You speak, carding your fingers through his hair. He nods but doesn’t make eye contact; the nervousness from earlier returning twice over. After you brush your fingers across his forehead he finally looks at you. 

“You’re breathtaking, Y/N.” Jesse speaks so softly the rain pounding on the roof of the car nearly drowns him out. All you can focus on are his lips as they part; the way his tongue dances behind them. When he asks you to remove your dress, you’re achingly willing. 

Jesse watches you undress before him, completely entranced by your body. Regardless of how often he’s seen your form, he pores over you as if you were the finest sculpture he has ever laid eyes on. He skims his hands across the expanse of your thighs and upwards, twisting the fabric of your panties around his fingers. 

He places gentle kisses to your collarbones, your neck, the junction between your breasts. Jesse Cash is not a man that can be rushed, and you wouldn’t dare try to anyway. Each press of his soft lips against your skin heals a part of you that has been burning alive inside of you for ages. 

He leans you back against the dash, one hand supporting your back and the other coming to your chest. Running his hand down the length of your torso, he slips his fingers through the waistband of your panties. A shuddered breath escapes him and he curses when he dips a finger inside of you, feeling how soaked you are. 

“Tell me, honey.” He coos, not wasting any time finding the sweet spongy spot inside of you. “Do the others make you this wet or is it just me?” 

The sudden flash of possessiveness in Jesse’s eyes catches you off guard. You squirm under his gaze, not because you’re uncomfortable, but because you’re wildly turned on by it.

“Only you.” You moan, grabbing onto his thigh for support. Jesse grins and adds another finger. You dig your nails into the denim of his jeans as he picks up the pace, your vision already beginning to go white. The filthy wet sounds made as he pleasures you can be heard even over the rain. 

Just as you feel yourself reaching your peak, he halts his movements, eliciting a pitiful whimper from you. He removes his fingers completely, dragging it up your slit collecting more of your juices. 

“Open up.”

Your mouth falls open so quickly it makes Jesse chuckle. He places his fingers on your tongue and you close your lips around it sucking and savoring the flavor of your own arousal. 

Jesse watches you intently; his mouth slack-jawed and eyes trained on your mouth. When you moan around his fingers, he moans back bucking his hips slightly. You feel his cock pressing into your bare pussy and you’re scrambling for his belt, desperate for him.

He helps you shove his pants down, hissing when you take his leaking cock into your hand. As hurried as you were, you sigh in relief the moment he’s inside of you. You set a slow pace, dragging your pussy up his length until you feel just the tip and sinking back down again. Jesse lays back against the car seat, his nails digging crescent shapes into your thighs.

You move like I want to. 

To see, like your eyes do.

The whispered vocals on the hauntingly beautiful track make the moment even more intimate. You pick up the pace a little to match the tempo of the song, your movements causing Jesse to arch his back, moaning loudly. He observes as you move on top of him, chest heaving from breathing so hard. Somehow, his brown eyes grow even darker 

Jesse wraps his hand around the back of your neck, gently but firmly pulling your mouth to his. He snakes his other arm around your waist, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. In this moment, you’re thankful for the deluge outside otherwise your cries of pleasure and pleas not to stop would get the two of you caught in an instant. 

You rake your fingernails through his scalp, tugging at the damp curls. Jesse grunts into your neck, grasping your waist tighter and thrusting into you harder. You slam your hand against the car window for extra support, a distorted hand print forming in the condensation. 

“Jesse, please don’t stop.” You whimper. He shakes his head fervently, refusing to leave the spot between your neck and shoulder that he’s claimed. 

“Never.”

Grasping onto his shirt and pulling it off of him, you reattach yourself to him immediately. Your skin is on fire but you’re desperate to be closer to him, to feel all of him. 

Tonight I feel like more. 

Chino’s voice bellows through the speakers. While the lyrics are nefarious in nature, the line resonates with you in a different way. 

It’s never been a question that you care deeply for the man underneath you. It’s not his fault you have a fear of abandonment. You’ve told yourself that’s all it was, but the truth is you have never felt good enough for him. His integrity and pure heart intimidates you. His ability to see through your lies and still love you anyway scares you to death.

Your orgasm builds with the swell of the music. You allow the pleasure to consume your entire body, the toe curling, stomach tightening, finger gripping sensation overwhelming you. 

The music becomes muffled in your ears when Jesse calls out your name. Opening your eyes, all you can see is him. Tunnel vision has never been more blissful than this. The moonlight illuminates his face and he stares at you with the same entranced look from earlier. It’s evident that you’re all he can see too.

The coil in your stomach snaps, sending shockwaves through your entire body. You grasp onto his knees tighter to keep yourself up right, bucking your hips on his cock chasing your high. He lets out a low groan, his stomach muscles growing taut and cock twitching inside of you. 

I feel like more. 

And you do. 

You feel more alive than you ever have. The numbness in your soul has vanished and there’s nothing but him and you want more. 

The euphoria that creeps up inside of you when you both orgasm at the same time is all-consuming and you hope he feels it too. One wave of pleasure after the other radiates through every muscle in your body, making you quiver relentlessly. You feel Jesse’s legs shaking underneath you, strangled groans erupting from him as he spills inside of you. 

Jesse opens your car door and grabs your hand, the two of you sprinting towards his house. By the time you make it to his front door, you’re both soaked and laughing uncontrollably. Once inside, he leads you to his room to find dry clothes. You peel off your soaked ones and hang them in the bathroom to dry. When Jesse comes in with new clothes, you take them graciously, shivering from the rain.

You sit on the counter towel drying your hair as you watch him change. He turns around, catching you staring and he smiles at you. You curl your finger at him, motioning for him to come to you. He stands between your legs, his hands resting on top of your thighs. 

Placing the towel on top of his head, you rub it vigorously against his hair to get the excess water out. When you pull the towel down and around his neck you can’t help but giggle at how frizzy his hair looks. He leans to the side to see what’s so funny, laughing when he sees himself. You plant a kiss on his cheek and he looks over at you, a soft smile on his lips. He kisses you, holding your chin softly between his fingers. There’s no urgency behind it. He’s simply savoring every second he has with you. 

“Stay tonight?” He mumbles against your lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jesse.” 

He sighs contentedly, enveloping your face in his hands.  

“Tell me you mean that, Y/N.” 

This time, more than anything, you hope you do.

#jesse cash #jesse cash x reader #jesse cash fanfiction #jesse cash fanfic #jesse cash fic #fic: legs #i lied i’m posting it a little early #ghost atlas #erra

[goodgirlofglory]

By the herald of thunder /One-shot

Pairing: Thor x reader

Word count: 2,8k

Warnings: sweet and passionate love-making, SMUT, some rough Thor, oral (f receiving), brief hand job (blink and you’ll miss it), p in v, fluff, no I mean FLUFF! Sloppy, sticky fluff. 

Summary: Thunder signals the arrival of your secret lover - the norse God of Thunder himself. He's a freequent visitor, but this time he leaves with something special.

Note: There've been a lot of exciting thunder storms in Norway this summer, and it made me think of what a secret affair with the crown prince of Asgard might feel like. This is pre the first Thor movie, when the Æsir were still only a myth amon the humans on Earth. 

EDIT: WOOP WOOP there is now a sort of, sort of not sequel to this, Like lightning in a bottle. Check it out ;)

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to engage if the content of the warnings upsets you. Minors DNI. Not beta-read, I live on the edge. 

My work is not to be distributed outside this blog. 

Likes, reblogs and replies are amaaaazing<333333

The classic, mythical herald of his appearing is thunder, but you usually feel it days before. Feel it as the warm summer air slowly becomes hot and heavy, laden with electricity and anticipation. It envelopes you as you go to work, read in your home, take in the groceries. Like a premonition of his embrace - heady and demanding. 

When the first bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, your heart leaps into your throat. 

He’s coming. Finally. 

You know the nearest neighbors, about a mile away, gather in their windows to film the storm as it rages on, gaping in astonishment as the flashes of electric blue light come in more and more rapid succession, the following rumble shaking the roofs on every house in the parish. 

Meanwhile, you pace your home restlessly, almost giddy, almost nervous, excitement bubbling in your blood. Every strike of lightning feels like his hand on your skin, the rumbling like his groans as he moves in you. Your knees turn shaky when the crack of thunder follows directly after the bolt that slashes across the sky just beyond the treeline across the field.

He’ll be here any minute. 

Yes please, I need you. 

When the rain unleashes like the drop of an anchor, you moan quietly, already feeling yourself slick up at the anticipation. 

And then he’s standing on your lawn. Always appearing as if out of thin air. You wonder if he actually has the goat drawn carriage. 

He’s so imposing just standing there, and your yearning reaches a breaking point. You shudder at the sight of his broad frame, dirt blond hair, wild and unbraided, his blue eyes shining brighter and more dangerously than any lightning bolt. 

He crosses the lawn in bold strides, like he’s going into combat, and it almost feels like it too. It’s a battle you’re more than willing to meet him in.

You have no idea why he chose you, how he found you and why he keeps returning. It’s still hard to believe the Æsir even actually exist - and that you’re the only one who knows, the only one Thor, or any other norse god, have revealed themselves to in well over 900 years. 

It all happened a year prior, after a particularly hard hitting thunderstorm saw him at your doorstep for the first time. He didn’t say a word that time, only looked his menacing and powerful self, but you instantly understood who he was. 

You’d grown up with the stories. The myths and sagas. Your mother would always joke that “Thor was out and about with his goats” whenever thunderstorms raged, and you always laughed along with her. Never ever anticipating that the actual norse god of thunder would one day stand in your living room, silent and observing, as you stood before him in nothing but your night slip. What was even more absurd was how your body instantly roused at his intent stare, welcoming him with open arms and an overwhelming enthusiasm as he reached for you, wrapped his big, warm hand around your neck and pulled you into a bruising kiss. 

You leave the door open for him now, intent on drawing him into your bedroom. You need him in your sheets, on the soft mattress where you can feel every bit of his juxtaposing hard, sculpted body. 

Your nerves flare when he slowly and silently follows you up. You hear his footsteps behind you on the stairs, around the corner, and when you reach your bed, you turn to find him directly behind you, looming a good seven inches taller than you. 

You’re riled up, your breath short and rapid, but you take a long inhale followed by a deep sigh as his scent fills your nose - musk and smoke and something foreign, a transcending sweetness - the very essence of his overnatural being, the Asgardian, the God. 

You watch in enrapture as his hand slowly reaches up to graze a knuckle down your cheekbone. He holds the hammer in his other hand, and it seems to have a gravitational pull all of its own, fascinating and powerful as you feel its magnanimous weight even if you don’t look at it. One day you will gather the courage to ask to touch it, study it closer. 

But not now. Now he lowers the hammer to thud against the floor.

“Have you missed me, little mortal one?” he asks in a voice as deep as the ocean. You stifle a whimper and nod. 

It’s all a blur from there. Outside, the twilight air is cool and calm, the skies clear again. The storm continues in your bedroom. He’s on his knees between your legs on the bed, expertly feasting on you like a man starved, wringing out wave after wave of pleasure in you, hands bruising on your hips as he pins your wriggling form to his mouth. 

You come with a cry, hands gripping his luscious hair, just clinging on to consciousness as he keeps your aching clit in his mouth long enough for a cramp to sieze your leg. 

He let’s go, rubbing the cramp from your spasming leg as he coos gently, his lips quirking up into a fond smirk as he looks upon you. 

“There, there, pet,” he teases, “I’ve barely started.”

He mounts you, sliding his thick thighs, golden tanned with soft, blond hair, between your legs as he lays you on your back on the bed, and you almost blush at the normality of it all, how much you secretly fantasize about a domestic life with him, knowing it’s impossible. You reach for his cock, bold in your dazed condition, still riding the high of your orgasm. He lets you fondle him for a moment, grunting lowly as he watches you wrap your fingers around his girth and slide the soft foreskin up and down the veiny shaft. 

He’s endowed like a god too, the size of his cock dwarfing your fingers, the head purple, shining with a generous leakage at the top. You salivate at the feel of him. 

“Please,” you sigh. 

He hums. 

“Yes, kærasta,” he responds, and you flush all anew at the norse term of endearment, rolling off his tongue with smooth, foreign sounding vocals and crisp, rolling consonants. 

He gently swats your hand away, and you can feel the air grow thicker as he slides further in between your legs, his burly form pushing you to fold almost in half, your knees almost to your chest, exposing you to his rapidly darkening gaze while pinning you under his mercy. You’d die to stay here. The atmosphere in the room crackles, and you swear you smell fresh summer rain as he aligns himself. You can see his tenderness and control slipping from him, his muscles rippling, his brows furrowing as he pushes inside you. 

You want it so badly, everything he will give you. His wrath, his force, his passion - everything. 

And then, in an otherworldly image that always steals your breath, sparks of white and blue sizzle to life on his skin, licking up his arms, over his chest, running along his knuckles and swooping over his golden head. 

He slams inside you, invading your quivering walls with as much force as you can take - and then some. He sets a brutal pace from the get go, and it’s all you can do to hold on. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head as he brutalizes your body, but you want to watch him. Want to watch his mouth open on a pleasured groan, his nostrils flare as the heady smell of sex fills the air, watch his brows furrow as he stares at where you’re joined. 

Your next orgasm explodes out of you in no time, and you would be embarrassed if Thor didn’t encourage it with muttered praises in old norse. 

“That’s it, sæti.”

“Yes, let me hear you, elskan mín.”

“Take it, ástin.”

He flips you over, making you straddle his hips in an obscene spread, and pounds you from underneath, holding you close to his chest, his fist in your hair, his groans in your ear. 

It’s overwhelming, obliterating.

His warm hands seem to send zaps of electricity wherever he touches you, and for all you know, he might literally be. 

You whine as his pace slows, turning into a filthy grind as he reaches deeper, pulling you down by the hips to meet his as he spears you on his rock hard cock. He licks his thumb, gives you a wicked grin when you whimper, knowing exactly what he is doing, and then his thumb is circling your clit harshly, pulling another, earth shattering orgasm out of you. He groans as you shake on top of him, tears of pleasure springing in your eyes. His teeth latch onto your throat and your eyes roll back into your head now. 

Moments, minutes, hours. 

Pleasure, pressure, overstimulation, pain. 

You float through it all as Thor picks you apart, the crack of a new thunderstorm sounding outside your home as he continues as virile as before, growing more and more feral. Your wetness gushes out of you at one point, coating his stomach and thighs, and he groans triumphantly, hands squeezing your hips appreciatively as you convulse on him.

It's all part of being the god of thunders lover. He isn't satisfied until your a fucked-out puddle beneath him, and his libido is quite literally of a different world. You pride yourself on being able to keep up with him, let him unleash it all and taking everything he gives (if only barely), and he often praises you for it, swearing you are the only one of his human lovers to ever take all his might.

In the early morning sun he mounts you from above, as you lay in a heap of shivering limbs on your stomach, and you half-moan, half-whine as his cock again spears into your weeping, puffy and overstimulated pussy. The marks from his mouth and teeth litter your body, your nipples as spit slick and swollen, the skin on the inside of your thighs rubbed raw from his beard, bruises the shape and size of his fingertips along your shoulders, arms, hips, thighs and legs. You're covered in his saliva, his sweat, your own sweat and your slick. His balls, abnormally massive like the rest of him, slap wet and full on your clit as he goes, sending jolts of sensation deep into your body and out to your limbs.

You lay pliant for him as he nears his peak, the position of him plowing you into the mattress so devastatingly and deliciously primal, his pace feral, his sounds animalistic, and craning your neck, you see his entire eyes alight with the cold, blue color of lightning. It’s all possibly barbaric.

This is it. This is the god of thunder, revealing himself for you in these tiny moments, no doubt controlled for so long in order to not risk serious injury to you. You relish in it, the sheer magnitude of the moment, feeling like you’re in the presence of a miracle as he fucks you raw, teethering on the edge of the most glorious peril. 

You keen as he rams your already pounded flesh, a pulsing orgasm wrecking you as your whole body struggles between the overwhelming need to get away and simultaneously, to get more. 

When he comes, it’s like the whole earth shifts, the room shaking on its foundation. He downright growls. It’s absurd, but you imagine you’re actually floating up from the mattress, weightless even as he pins you down by one hand on your neck and the other on your hip. The air leaves your lungs, instead filled by that same, addictive feel of electricity, sizzling along every nerve ending in your body as his cock pulses again and again inside you, filling you to the brim with his hot spend. He pushes impossibly deeper with another severe grunt, and you hear the squelching sound as his cum leaks out around his girth, cheeks blazing at the thought of him marking you so severely inside and out, claiming you, ruining you for any human man. 

The god of thunder turns tender after his love-making, gathering you gently into his warm embrace, his fingertips grazing tenderly where they earlier gripped hard enough to hurt. He kisses your fluttering shut eyelids softly, licking the stray tears on your cheek in a bizarre, intimate manner, his hand big enough to engulf the entire side of your face. 

You sleep, blissfully sore and tingling in his arms. 

It varies how long he stays on his visits, but it’s always woefully too short in your mind. He always sleeps with you, lulling you with his deep snore and steadily rising and sinking chest to your back. 

In the beginning, he didn’t say much between awakening and leaving, and you were always left wondering if you’d ever see him again. Now, he talks. After waking up in his arms well into the afternoon, he tells you tales of his home, of his ludacris adventures. Whenever you guess a detail right, scrambling to remember the myths your mother told you as a child, he looks at you with a sort of puzzled pride that has you breathing funny. And he enquires about your life, listening intently, asking questions about mundane, human things like toasters, public transit and platform boots. You realize he has a certain fondness for earth and humanity not exactly shared by the rest of his people, and it melts your heart to hear him talk with such a protective tone. 

You laze around in bed, caressing and studying each other's bodies, Thor making it his mission to find every point on your body that either makes you squirm, giggle og sigh. 

And you always braid his hair before he leaves. It started out rather coincidentally. You’d been absentmindedly playing with some of his golden locks at one of his visits, listening to him tell the tale of a stolen hammer and a wedding dress. He’d abruptly stopped speaking, and looking up you’d caught his neutral, but intense stare at your hands, where you’d made a small braid in his hair. 

“Oh, um, sorry, I guess I…” you’d trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed. This was a god in your bed, after all, who were you to take liberties?

“Would you do it to the rest?” he asked when you trailed off, and you recognised the amused interest in his shining eyes. 

Whenever he reappeared at your doorstep for another night of sheer, explosive bliss, his hair was usually loose. At first, you thought maybe he used it as a type of timeframe, coming back to visit you when the last braid was finally untangled. You stopped securing them after that, hoping he would come back more frequently as the braids lasted for a shorter time. But then he sometimes reappeared even before the braids were completely undone, prompting a surge of possessive pride in your chest. 

You sit up in bed now, braiding away, relishing the feel of his velvety, thick and shining blond hair in your hands - the color like spun gold, soft as you imagine a cloud would feel like in the palm of your hand. His head is in your lap, your leg draped over his shoulder. He idly strokes up and down the ridge of your foot, squeezing a toe now and then to see you jolt and smile despite yourself, responding with a dashing flash of his white, straight teeth, blinding you with his beauty. 

“I was wondering, sweet one,” he starts, and you relinquish the braiding to give him your full attention, detecting to your astonishment some hesitation in his voice. “Would you bestow me a lock of your own hair, and braid it in with mine? And secure it fast, for I’d be loath to lose it,” he continues after a beat, meeting your eyes steadily even as he speaks slowly and a bit haltingly. 

It is your turn to halt now, stuttering, flashing hot, feeling your face heat rapidly, your heart in your throat suddenly. He probably sees right through you, but you doubt he would ever understand how much the request means to you. You nod, letting your face split open on your sudden happiness.

Your hair, in his, for everyone to see, for the whole of Asgard to see. God, you would give anything for this man. 

“I’d love that,” you manage to whisper, needing to give him a just answer. 

He smiles again, reaching up and pulling your head down to kiss you tenderly on the lips, sementing the moment, sementing the emotions in your heart. 

You get a pair of scissors, let Thor choose the lock he wants (he chooses one from the nape of your neck, one he says he’d noticed before because of its particular curl) and then braid it into a small braid at his front, where he can easily pull it out to see it. He easily picks you up and arranges you across his lap as he sits with his back to the headboard, watching you as you braid. You feel his eyes flit across your face, but you steel your focus. This is quite suddenly, intensely important, the most important task of your life. 

His cock, however, growing hard against your belly as you work away, is entirely too difficult to ignore. Both naked, flush together, you wiggle subtly as your body stirrs to attention, and his face becomes shrewd as he watches you, not moving an inch, his hands resting firmly on your hips as you distractedly squirm against him. 

You stubbornly finish the braid even as your heartbeat picks up. Securing it tightly with a rubber band (he’ll love shoving that off to his friends) you rest your own hands above his on your hips with a triumphant smile, and he chuckles amused at you. 

He fondles the braid with a soft smile on his features, bringing it to his lips to kiss it softly. 

“I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for this,” he says with an undercurrent in his voice. There’s that zap of energy again, and suddenly, there’s the smell of fresh rain in the air.

§

Note: When I tell you I was OBSESSED with this man ten years ago?? And his brother the frost bite?? Insane

EDIT: here is the sequel

#thor fanfiction #thor x reader #thor x y/n #thor fanfic #thor smut #thor fluff #thor mcu #thor norse mythology

[reidsaurora]

"Kisses Make Everything Better" ~ S. Reid

Summary: Spencer and Y/N get taken hostage, he goes into sensory overload and they have to help him through it.

Pairing: Autistic!Spencer Reid x GN!Reader (i'm p sure no pronouns are used)

Word Count: 1,195

Content Warning: Y/N and Spencer do be kidnapped, mentions of guns, minor character death, mentions of hospitals, sensory overload/overstimulation, very mild swearing, lmk if i missed anything!

Genre: Angst to Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Extra Notes: another crappy summary but i promise the imagine is written much better

Based On the Prompt: "Hair's Breadth from Death" - gun to temple (from 2022 Whumptober Prompts)

Originally Written: 10/07/2022

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold and @theghouligan

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Whumptober masterlist/schedule can be found here!

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"Where did you take him?" she growled, grip tight around the gun in her hand.

"For the last time, Ruby, we don't know where your son is," I huffed. "Oliver was placed in foster care after your arrest. We don't know where he went or if he even has the same name."

My eyes darted over to Spencer. His chest heaved, tears brimmed his eyes, and his leg bounced as best it could through the restraints around his ankles.

I could tell Spencer was headed toward sensory overload, most likely caused by both the flex cuffs around his wrists and ankles and the volume of her shouting. One of Spencer's many sensory triggers was plastic, the texture he hated most. He had a couple sensory overload tells, but his most dominant tell was his fidgeting leg.

My face softened as I looked over him. I craved Spencer's touch constantly, but when I saw him in situations like this, I wanted to wrap him up tight and prove to him that things would be OK.

Ruby must've noticed my look of sympathy, prompting her to shout, "Hey, don't look at him! Look at me!"

My eyes flickered over to her, watching as she paced. Her face contorted from a look of anger to a look of curiosity as she paced over to Spencer.

"If you won't tell me where Ollie is," she said, sliding a singular bullet into the chamber, "then I'll just have to make you tell me."

Click!

"Ruby, don't do this," I pleaded. "What will Oliver think of his mother when he finds out she killed a federal agent?"

Spencer's chest heaved five times harder than it already was. "Please," he managed weakly, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Tell me where he is."

I couldn’t take it anymore. "Ruby, I already told you a hundred times-"

Click!

"Y/N, please make her stop!" Spencer begged.

My mind raced as I attempted to find some way to calm them both. I thought through my options, trying to find something to give me leverage over her.

I knew I shouldn't, it was the one thing Spencer hated telling people about himself, but I knew it might work. I knew it might make Ruby take a step back and consider her son. "Ruby, he has autism."

She pressed the barrel to his skin, surely hard enough to cause an imprint. "No, he doesn't. You're lying."

"I'm not lying. He has autism, just like Oliver," I told her. "He’s going into sensory overload. You wouldn't do that to Oliver, would you? So please don’t do it to Spencer either."

She scoffed, her eyes rolling sarcastically. "You're just saying that so I'll feel bad."

"It's true," Spencer whimpered, "I got diagnosed last year, not long after you lost Oliver."

Click!

"Tell me where Ollie is," she demanded once more, still holding the gun close to Spencer's forehead.

"I already told you a million times, Ruby. We don't-"

"'Know where he is.' Yeah, I know. We've been over that song and dance before," she antagonized. "I'll put the gun down when you tell me where my son is."

I rolled my eyes at her, throwing my head back in frustration. "You wanna know where he is, Ruby?"

Her eyes lit up, her expression filled with sarcasm. "I was wondering when you'd get the message."

My eyes narrowed as she walked closer to me. I leaned up close to her face once she was close enough. "He's living with a nice family who could take way better care of him than your sorry ass ever could," I spat. "He's living with a nice family where the mom isn't a hit woman and the dad is actually in the picture."

BOOM!!!

My ears rang as a gunshot sounded off throughout the room. My eyes screwed shut as tears slid down my face.

"Are you two OK?" I heard a familiar voice ask from across the room.

I slowly opened my eyes, spotting Rossi and Morgan as they walked over to untie us. My mouth fell agape as I registered the fact that Spencer was still alive and breathing. "You're OK," I managed through shallow breaths.

"I'm OK," he confirmed. "What about you?"

Once Rossi had successfully untied me and Morgan had untied Spencer, we rushed over to each other, falling into each other's arms. "I'm OK now," I answered.

Spencer kept his distance during the ambulance ride to the hospital. Luckily, I was able to plead with the driver to keep the siren turned off for Spencer's sake, though I could tell the flashing of the light did nothing to ease his overstimulation.

Once we reached the hospital, I stayed close enough to Spencer to let him know I wasn't leaving his side. The nurse allowed me to share an exam room with him too after I explained our situation.

The room stayed mostly silent, save for us answering the doctors' questions. Spencer's heart rate was still extremely high, probably the result of him having difficulties with calming down after such high stakes situations.

Slowly, I stood from my seat, sitting down beside him on the exam table. "Are you OK?" I whispered.

He nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact with me. "Hey, do you think Rossi and Morgan heard what you said? A-about my diagnosis, I mean."

I exhaled, attempting to figure out how to answer his question. "I'm not sure."

"You don't think they'll make fun of me, do you?" he asked, his volume matching that of mine. "I don't want them to think I'm less capable in the field now that everyone's suspicions have been confirmed."

I held my hand close to his face, not touching him quite yet. "May I?"

He swallowed hard, but nodded nonetheless.

I pressed my hand to his cheek, wiping the remnants of his tears. "No one is going to think you're less capable. And if they did, I'd beat their ass for being ableist."

He cracked a small smile, his eyes finally fluttering up to meet mine. "Thank you."

"I love you, Spencer. I would've never said that if I hadn't thought it would help the situation. I thought telling her about your diagnosis might make her take a step back and think about her actions," I explained. "I'm sorry it didn't work as well as I'd hoped."

"I love you too," he whispered, leaning into my touch.

The room stayed silent for a moment, a comfortable silence I'd craved ever since we'd been taken hostage in the first place. I listened to his breathing, feeling a sense of serenity wash over me as I heard shallow breaths turn into deeper, calmer breaths.

"Y/N?" he spoke again after a couple minutes.

"Hmm?" I hummed, still running my thumb across the soft skin of his cheek.

"Can you kiss me?" he asked, his eyes immediately darting away. "I think it might help distract me."

I gave him a soft smile before leaning in, placing my lips on his. His lips were slightly cracked and dry, but I didn't care.

"Thank you," he whispered as he broke away.

"Of course," I smiled. "Kisses make everything better."

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i don't wanna talk about how much i hate the title of this aldjslshsksgajs

you know what i do wanna talk about tho? how much i love georgia and gracie 🫶🏻

bc they both saw the potential in this fic and gave me so many pointers on making this better for you guys. i just wanna give them both a lil shoutout. love u guys 🥰

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[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: “what if we ran off and got married.”

For Tolya x Reader please!!

hehehehehehehehe. Okay. Short and fluffy.

Place Your Bets - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Mentions of Gambling. No Beta/Proof Reading.

The waiting in Ketterdam was what had you most on edge, when you were faced with a plan or something to do it was always easy to focus on the next step and the one after, but right now, it was just a waiting game. You had to let The Crows get themselves together and you had no particular time frame for how long that would take.

They understood how imminent things needed to be, but that didn't mean anything for how quickly they could get themselves ready to leave.

Jesper seemed to be the first to be ready, eager to be doing something as well, but eager in a different way to you. He fidgets with the edge of his waistcoat and pulls a single coin from a pocket, he looks surprised as he folds the coin over his fingers and back again, a pretty little trick but it made him less fidgety.

"How long is this going to take?" Zoya asks impatiently. Zoya was as direct and often singular minded in her directness as they come. She had a job to do and she wanted it done. She taps her fingers on the table and looks to Jesper as to demand an answer.

"I don't know," Jesper says, "but I can bet that Nina will be the last to be here," his grin is wicked as he holds up the coin. A gambler's smile through and through.

"Only an idiot would take that bet," Zoya states bringing her tea to her lips.

Tolya leans in closer next to you, both of your backs to the wall, watching the doors closely. "I wonder what bets are friends have placed on us," he says.

"Tamar will have bet you will not be bringing her back what she asked for, and will win that bet," you state. Tolya gives you a playful frown.

"You cannot know that," he insists.

"Oh, Tolya, yes I can," your tone is filled with laughter as you talk to him. "I know you well enough."

"Okay, well Nikolai has surely bet that you will come back insisting you get sent on more missions that require trips to Ketterdam," Tolya says. You smile.

"I like the atmosphere, and I would like to enjoy it, which I cannot do while the weight of Ravka and perhaps everything is relying on us here, so maybe I do wish to return under less... dire circumstances," you say.

"They will have bet that Zoya has threatened violence over my poetry," Tolya admits.

"That I get into heads with Zoya," you say. "Which admittedly has already happened."

"They probably even bet that we are having this conversation while waiting for the others," Tolya muses.

You sigh. "We are simply far too predictable, we should work on that, do something that really surprises them," you chuckle glancing up at Tolya. His golden eyes are focused on the conversations at the table, even if his concentration is here with you.

"What if we ran off and got married?" Tolya asks. You freeze up and then attempt to shake your head slightly from side to side as if to dislodge the idea from your brain, because you must've misheard him.

"What?" you ask, hoping this time you might hear him correctly.

"What if we ran off and got married?" He repeats. "No one would be expecting us to do that."

"That is very true," you say, voice wavering as you reply. You cannot understand how he would suggest such a thing so nonchalantly. Even though you know he is joking.

"Can you imagine, the look on Tamar's face if we returned with Neshyener and married," Tolya continues.

"I do not know which she would find harder to believe," you admit.

"The marriage," Tolya says confidently.

"Nikolai would take it very personally that we hadn't invited him," you add.

"Tamar would never let me hear the end of it," Tolya agrees. "But they would never see it coming."

You laugh gently now, the joke settling. "All bets would truly be off."

You are glad that you are able to have these moments, with Tolya, these moments when you are not two people sent somewhere for a reason. You are just two friends, side by side in a Ketterdam establishment, exchanging words like the world may not be ending.

Even if part of you might long for more, these moments were your favourite, and they made you feel calmer in the waiting.

"So, shall we?" Tolya asks after a moment of prolonged silence.

"Hm?" you respond, thinking you missed something he has said.

"Get married," he asks. You laugh, but he just smiles down at you.

"You're joking?" you ask. He shrugs, smile still on his lips as he turns back to looking at the others, almost fully gathered now.

"I think we have time before they're ready," Tolya says.

You pull away from the wall to look at him properly and he looks back at you in return and he looks just the same, no change in demeanour, no mocking, just Tolya.

"I cannot tell if you're serious," you state. He shrugs again. "Tolya?"

"I had never really considered getting married at all," he admits, "I had no need, but something Tamar said before we left, it had me thinking, that is all."

"Dangerous," you joke, still trying to find where your breath has run off too, with Tolya and all this talk of marriage, and how you're not even sure if he is kidding or proposing.

"Maybe," he smiles. "Have you thought about it?"

"Marrying you?" you ask. Yes, a lot, more than you would like to admit.

He laughs. "No, marrying at all," he says. You feel like a flower has started to grow in your chest and it's pushing it's way up your throat.

"Not too much, but a little I suppose," you admit. He nods.

"If I were to marry anyone," he says, "I would marry you."

Zoya snaps her fingers at the two of you. "We are supposed to be leaving," she states, irritation boundless.

Tolya nods at her and throws you a sideways glance as he moves to join them, assuming you will follow in suit.

You try but every movement is slow, your brain is working with your body at less than half it's normal speed, while it tries to process what just happened.

"If I were to marry anyone,"

"I would marry you."

He had said it so gently, so easily, like it wasn't the most earthshattering thing he could have said to you. Like it didn't make your head spin, make your heart race and make you lose your balance. He said it like it was something you should have known. Something to not make a big deal of. Something that a person just says to another.

"You coming?" Zoya demands looking at you. Tolya smiles at you from the doorway.

"Yes Zoya," you say trying to pull yourself back together, "I am." You had things that needed to be dealt with now, everything else just had to wait.

#shadow and bone #tolya #tolya x reader #tolya yul bataar #grishaverse #tolya and tamar #nikolai lantsov #six of crows #tamar kir bataar #fanfiction #fanfic

[searchingforserendipity25]

Music, Too That Sweet Madness. on ao3.

for @maedhrosmaglorweek. many thanks to @thelordofgifs for the beta.

-

"There art thou, dear heart."

"Nelyo, Maitimo, my lord Russandol! Have you fled likewise? I have fled to wander the shade a while, singing something less full of verve and cheer - I fear I shall go a little mad otherwise. Do I look mad?"

"Less wild about the eyes than Father, if that be any consolation."

"Some! Glad he is, and furious I think also; his laughter stung the eyes. His best beloved child, come into his own -"

"How happily wed is our brother! It does him good to have his eyes full of another face, that looks less like his own. And his wife has a fierce enough heart to dispute him for herself, which is better than might be expected."

"I would pity her more, if she looked less pleased with the contention for possession over the prize! They are gone now to their own joining, and only the revelers remain. I trust the spirits are high still. Didst enjoy the leaping and the dancing, and the dizzy stirring of the Mingling's own air?"

"The arias I liked well, for the power in them was fairly wielded; and the effect and impressions was most convincing."

"That is all! Meager praise thou givest me. Convincing - thou hast such a suspicious eye for artifice, not at all like our parents' child."

"Aye, indeed, what a dreadful lack of artistry is my heart - so suspicious it seems to me perhaps thou hast sung too convincingly. Wilt thou be unwell?"

"O, assuredly! Calling so much delight shades the spirit to weariness. 'Tis a rare skill, unfettering all the joy that might be found in a gathering, in fair and measured fashion. Skill has a price, and great singing demands its sacrifice. Tonight I keep my voice still, though tomorrow it may be ground to silence."

"Yet I note silence is not in your repertoire tonight!"

"Am I being too unpleasant? Be sure not to leave my side, even if I am."

"Was thy walk such a lonesome time as that?"

"Not so very much, I thought; till I saw thy height and breadth in the shadows coming towards me through the grass, up the path I left barely trodden upon the ground. Then my heart was glad. Perhaps I am not kind; but I would not like to be without thee, tonight."

"Thou shall be without me, as long as thou likest."

"That is false, but sweet falsity. I was unjust. Thou hast thine own artificiality, brother. I wonder at times -"

"Aye?"

"We are a people made for delight, are we not? In habits. It would not be such an effort to singers, if it were the true disposition of the Quendi."

"The rituals of wedding covenants are not those of our regular days. Though indeed 'twould be most convenient to have thy voice employed in willing the thoughts of all those who hear it - still it is not done, as a manner of domineering, for all the tiresome slow work of our courts might tempt it."

"Maitimo, for shame! Thou ought not make me laugh at tyranny. In truth I ought not speak inauspicious things, on such a day! My voice is very mighty."

"So it is!"

"Though not enough for a compliment, I gather."

"Thy singing rings still, and echoes in every graceful embrace, and all the twirling gestures and generous words. If that is the flattery thou wish’st, I can offer it, and know myself accurate. And thou were most helpful besides, in keeping together our parents and all the company guided in the most useful configuration of conversation, in the hosting and the leading of the dancing meters. My work was made easier for it, and our brother's wedding more joyful. Is this better?"

"Very! Fine tithe, for all my efforts. It went quite well, did it not? Perhaps I ought to be wed myself, now the order of efforts is charted terrain, and not so daunting."

"Thou dost surprise me. Shalt thou be wed, Káno?"

"Oh, I expect I shall. I have many friends, thou know'st; I am very beloved."

"So thou art! None love thee better than I, as none came to thee, here in the dark, when singing laid a shadow upon thy heart; but I suppose that is a high standard I mark."

"None!"

"I have made a good study of our company tonight, as thou know'st; and none, I say."

"Prove it! Say thou shalt not wed, not without my word of approval."

"That is not a just preposition, for I would not wed any thou didst not love also - while thou, Káno, wouldst not think to wait for my approval."

"That is true enough, I cannot be cross - but only because I know thou wouldst never give thy approval, even were I very happy. Thou seest, Maitimo, for all thy deliberation, and scorn of jealousy - I know how thou hast been made in our father's image."

"Makalaurë, thou hast made thyself drunk with thine own words."

"I do not know how Therindë did it. If I died, I would not wish thee to be happy, and glad, and wed whom thou likest and had many children. I would wish everyone who loved me to wear ugly clothes always, and be very unpleasant. Like Father."

"Thou art drunk. Dearest, say not such things. I am not to die."

"All the same. Thou must promise. Not to give thyself away - without my regard. For I too am very covetous, thou know'st, and I would have a say of such things, in death and love alike."

"So I swear - if thou shall come with me, and rejoin the revel. This dark wandering does ill to thee, I see, when thy spirit is spent and drunk with singing."

"So sworn?"

"So sworn, on thy own heart! Which, as we have so cleverly decided, must be shared, and mine likewise. I mind it less than I thought I would. But then thou hast ever been mine own minstrel, and with song I must share thee as well as I might."

"That is true; that I shall not be sorry for.” 

"Only do not be wed so soon! Nor can our household take the changing of the tides so soon, without a good arranging of affairs. I have arranged one such occasion already, and would have a time before taking up this hosting of joy once more, lest I turn mad myself, for far longer than it takes the effects of a Song of Power to fade in the air."

"I shall not. I do not at present have the heart for love. O, Nelyo! Is it possible to sing too well and too long of joy? I fear - and this is not singer's weariness alone - at times it does seem a store that may be spent."

"Come near, dear one. Rest here against my breast - thou art dizzy on thy feet! A long walk that was, for one so spent, and so heavy at heart; yet this spell shall soon pass."

"That is no consolation, and thy kindness I judge not very convincing, for my part. It always does come back."

"I know. So it is with the line of Therindë, each in our time. Think'st thyself alone in this malaise?"

"Never! I know thee, better than thou at times.”

“A lofty claim!”

“And true. What business, I might ask, has our father's eldest-born son evading the crowds, and the pride of a good task, and all the pleasure of company, to hunt a mislaid thing of his when it goes walking by itself? At least a hound thou couldst leash decently, and a wife might be commanded as decree the Laws - so too a servant likewise."

"Káno, thou dost speak worse than unkindness, and more than madness."

"Still thou art the one who speak as master of the household! Ai, here my lord Russandol is eager to lift a noble finger, and order my silence. He shall not have it - tonight I cannot silence myself, even when I wish it, and know it to be best."

"And so I must not have my anger roused, then? I love thee best - still thou dost make that a trial."

"Leave it - I know. Dost thou think I do not? In the morrow I shall be good, and come sit with my head upon your knees, and apologize. Thou know'st I shall. Does that satisfy?"

"It shall satisfy, when thou dost obey as I called."

"Very well! I shall follow, if thou likest. Let us return to the gathering, and hope the Mingling wanes fast. The light wounds my eyes, tonight; I fear I shall weep, and it is a vain singer than cries with his own song as the cause.”

#maglor #maedhros #years of the trees #maedhrosmaglorweek #silm fic #tolkien fanfiction

[navybrat817]

Still Get Jealous

Pairing: Rocker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't get jealous. Or does he? Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, possessive behavior, slight jealousy, swearing, talk of exhibitionism, Rocker!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fifth day of my Naughty & Nice Nonsense belongs to White Wolf and Luna! Finally wrote something for them. Inspired by this ask here by the wonderful @beach-daydreaming . ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Bucky edit by the amazing Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky isn’t a jealous man. He has no reason to be. Playing sold out shows, rocking out with his friends, and getting paid to have a good time? He's on top of the world.

Best of all, he has you.

If only the pricks around you would take a hint.

It made sense that other guys wanted you. The way you carried yourself with confidence and dressed like you were made for sin, you got attention everywhere you went. Just because he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you to his side when some guy hit on you didn’t mean he was possessive. If he dug his fingers in a little or pressed a kiss to your neck, it was a subtle way to make the asshole back off.

It was not because he was jealous.

“Marking your territory?” you always asked once they took a hint.

"If I wanted to do that, I'd put you on your knees and fuck you right here."

He never had to touch you to know that got you wet. The whole crew caught you two going at it more than once and you got off on it every time. His beautiful Luna had an exhibition streak as long as his. You loved showing everyone who you belonged to.

So was he possessive or jealous if he knew you were his?

"Will you ever make good on that promise?” you teased.

Bucky considered it after the latest show.

Downing a shot, he glared at Graham across the bar. He had no issues with the Nonsense Nation guitarist most days. The guy was quiet and usually kept to himself. He hardly ever cracked a smile.

So why was he huddled close to you and laughing?

And why were you laughing with him?

Since when is Graham a fucking comedian?

“Stop glaring,” Steve asked, trying to get Bucky’s attention.

“Why is she shoving her tits in his face?” he demanded to know.

You trying to get my attention, Luna? You fucking got it.

Steve handed another shot over, which he quickly downed. “She’s not putting her tits anywhere. You know she doesn’t want him.”

Bucky knew you weren’t into Graham, but he still questioned why you were leaning in closer. The bar wasn’t that loud. There was no reason to press up against him like that. You were practically in his lap at that point.

“Fuck this,” he muttered as he licked his lips and slammed the glass down on the counter.

“Fuck it,” Steve agreed, nodding over to you. “Go get your girl.”

My girl.

His best friend gave him shit about the two of you in the beginning because he refused to put a label on things. You were a good fuck. The best pussy he ever had. There was no reason to mess that up by calling you his girlfriend.

Somewhere along the way, it became more. You didn’t fuck any other guys and he didn’t pick up any other groupies. He liked talking to you when he wasn’t balls deep inside you. He loved making you laugh.

Which is probably why he wanted to punch Graham’s fucking face in.

You didn’t turn around as he came up behind you, but he heard your gasp when he pulled you back against his chest.

“What’s so funny, baby?” he whispered against your ear.

“Hey, Buck,” you said sweetly, pushing your hips back in a gentle grind. “Oh, nothing. Graham and I were talking about you, believe it or not.”

“Is that right?” Bucky asked, keeping his eyes on Graham as he tilted your head and moved his lips down to your jaw.

“We were,” the guitarist confirmed, taking a sip of his drink and seemingly not bothered at all by the display as he checked his phone. “I owe Jefferson a drink.”

“The fuck does that have to do with me?” he asked, grinding against you in return so you could feel him getting hard.

Wonder if I could get away with fucking you on the bar.

“Luns wondered how long it would take for you to come over and say something if I flirted with her. I thought it would take five minutes,” Graham said as he slid off his barstool. “Jefferson said two minutes.”

Should’ve fucking known you were playing games.

You let out a hum of pleasure when he slid his hand under the front of your top. “Then find the fucking Mad Hatter and get him a drink. Now,” he grumbled.

“Maybe I want him to stay,” you said in a sing-song voice before Bucky cupped your breast and squeezed. “Fine. Thanks for the laugh, Graham.”

“You two behave,” he smirked a little before he walked off.

“No promises,” you said even though the two of you were alone. Well, as alone as you could be in a bar. “Two minutes. I’m impressed, White Wolf.”

“You trying to make me jealous, Luna? Bad fucking girl,” he said, his thumb brushing along your nipple. "Should punish you for that."

"Is it a punishment if we both enjoy it?" you moaned, the globes of your ass pushing even harder against him. “You don’t need to be jealous, but I like it."

“Not jealous,” he mumbled as he buried his face in your neck. "Is he funnier than me?"

If he sounded vulnerable, you didn't call him out on it.

"No, he isn't," you answered, making him breathe a little easier. "And don't you dare ask if I think he'd fuck me better."

"No one can fuck you better than I can," he said, his confidence back in full swing. "But I think you need a reminder that you’re mine.”

You gasped when he pinched your nipple. “As much as I want you to fuck me on the bar, and you will do that one day, I think the bathroom stall will do just fine.”

He may have given Jefferson and Graham the finger when you dragged him away. He also may have admitted later while you slept that he was jealous. Only because you were the best fucking thing to ever happen to him and you could have anyone you wanted.

But you chose him.

And who would the White Wolf be without his Luna?

You gotta love him. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

#navybrat writes #navy's naughty & nice nonsense #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #rocker!bucky barnes x reader #white wolf and luna #bucky barnes #rocker!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

[thesmutsideblog]

When Your Heart Feel Heavy You Drink (Eddie Munson, Ft Steve Harrington)

Content Warnings: Accidental Pregnancy, Implied Plans For Abortion, Explicit Language, Alcohol Use, Drunken Behaviour, Smutty-ish Content But Not Extensive There Would Be More Heavy Smut If I End Up Doing A Second Part. Implications Of Reputation/Bullying. Use Of Nickname "Bunny" Both Derogatorily And Affectionately. Not Beta/Proof Read. AFAB Reader Word Count: 8k+A/N: So, a few things. One, I started writing this at 1am on a random Wednesday because I had a half asleep thought and then could not let it go. Two, I have said, time and time again, there are few tropes I hate more than accidental pregnancy. Now take that as a personal preference issue, take that as an embodiment of my fear of pregnancy, the fact I do not want children and my raging asexuality. Three, I had no idea this was going to be as much as it was when I started writing it. And I had no idea where it was going to go either. I knew I wanted it to be Eddie based, but I also knew it might end up being Harrington in the end, maybe even some Steddie content, I really didn’t have a clue, so I just let it write itself. And I might continue to write it, fuck knows. Do I think this is my best work? No. Not remotely. But I wrote it, and I wrote a lot of it, and tbh I’ve written a lot worse and thought fuck it, it exists, might aswell put it out there, so both you’re welcome and I am sorry. But also I am not sorry.

Now

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

No string of curse words was going to change the two red lines on the stick you held between your hands. No amount of praying, of cursing, of wishing. No amount of screwing your eyes closed and counting to ten and opening them again was going to change the result.

The tiny little rest glares up at you, illuminated by the shitty white lighting of the convenience stores public bathroom, and it feels like the biggest taunt you’ve ever experienced. You wonder to yourself if you could drown yourself in the dripping water of the sink you are resting your head against. You doubt it and with a deep inhale you pull yourself up off the floor.

“Right,” you tell yourself. “Not ideal, but we can fix this, we can fix this and we can forget about it, and we can focus on college applications.”

You tell yourself over and over you can do that, you can focus on tomorrow like you’re not spinning. You can think about school and college and work like your heart isn’t threatening to stop in your chest.

Like you’re not pregnant.

Your watch beeps and your hairs stand on end. Four o’clock. It’s Saturday, and it’s four o’clock. Shit, you’re about to be late for your shift at Family Video. Your whole body feels cold. You cannot go to work today. You can’t. Not with everything going on. Not there. Not if there is even the smallest chance you’ll see him.

“Keith is going to kill me,” you whisper to yourself, as you make a beeline for the payphone. You twist the metal chord around and around as it rings out, praying to the wide open that anyone else picks up the phone.

“Family Video,” comes Robin’s voice and you’ve never been so glad to hear it, “what can I do for you?”

“Buckley,” you say but your voice barely makes it out.

“Bunny?” is her reply. You groan, that nickname has followed you like the plague and Robin had never used it, until now. “Shit,” she whispers, realising her slip up, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you tell her, it’s not, but you’d forgive her a whole manner of sins if she doesn’t make you feel even worse for what you’re about to tell her. “Robin I cannot make my shift.”

“It’s Saturday,” Robin whines.

“I know,” you tell her, “I know, and I am sorry, and you know I wouldn’t leave you hanging if I didn’t have a really good reason.”

“What is it?” she asks. Notoriously nosy and yet it never stops surprising you how shamelessly Robin will demand answers for anything. It is as if the girl has never had to keep a secret in her life, as if she has never had a single thing she wanted to keep to herself.

“I’ve been throwing up for the last three hours and I hoped it was going to pass, I thought, hey maybe if I get it all out my system I can get to work, but between heaving up my insides and trying to force water down my throat I didn’t realise how much time passed, and I know that’s a shit excuse for giving you so little warning, but as it turns out, this might be a little more than a bad reaction to my mothers quiche,” you lean into it now, knowing how Robin feels about germs, “and unless you want to share whatever it is making me want to tear my intestines from my body-,”

“You’re good, stay home,” Robin says, “can you at least call Harrington and have him cover?”

“He is your best friend, you call him,” you say, a little too harshly, so with a wince you add, “it took all the energy I have making this call.”

“Sure, sure,” she says, and you don’t have to see her to know she is waving a hand in the air to usher your words away from her. “Whatever, just… stop being sick or something.”

“I’ll try,” you say before hanging up. Every muscle in your body hurts, you want nothing more than to sink onto the floor of this dirty payphone box and let the ground swallow you. But you can’t, because that gets you nowhere, and you’ve got places to be.

You give the door of the box a small kick before pushing it open, and staring down the road, it’ll take you about twenty minutes from here to walk to where you need to go next. Your brain is screaming at you, desperate for you to think of another option, a better option, any other option. Because there is only once place you’d not rather be than where you’re headed. One person you’d not prefer to see right now, in this moment, than who you’re walking to. But you’ve got no other choice and for every reason you want to stay the fuck away from him until you figure everything out, until everything is fixed, you can think of sixteen other reasons to go to him instead. So you do, one slow, dragging step at a time, knowing that at this pace it might take more like forty minutes to get there, but before you’ve managed to talk yourself out of the idea entirely, and before you can think of any other option you can see the benches where Gareth is stood, telling a story with his arms spread wide, and Wheeler is looking at him so intently you wonder if his eyes might pop from their sockets. Dustin is pacing, trying to figure something out, and Lucas watches sat between Gavin and Jeff, no doubt wondering why he agreed to be here on this slightly too warm June Saturday. In the middle of them all, with his legs crossed, centre of the picnic table, lazy smile on his face with a cigarette stuck between his lips, still unlit, the person you really don’t want to face right now, the person you want to run from as fast as your legs might carry you. Eddie Munson, you looks up, and in seeing you, jumps to his feet, smile turning into a wicked grin as he thrusts his arms open wide and does a theatrical bow at your approach. Eddie Munson, your best friend and favourite person in the whole wide world.

“Malady,” he calls to you, “I did not believe you would be gracing us with your presence today, thought you had to earn that money, what was it you said, the honest way.”

His jovial tone, his welcoming smile, the way he lights up when he sees you is enough to make you break. You hold yourself close, arms wrapped around your torso, as if you could stop yourself bursting at the seams if you just kept holding on tight enough. You cannot cry, you tell yourself, you will not cry.

“Princess?” Eddie asks, seeing your face, searching for a smile that he cannot find. “You okay?”

“Can I borrow your van?” you ask. This gets everyone’s attention and Eddie knows without asking by the way you look at the ground, focused intently on a rock you’re pushing between your feet, that attention is the last thing you need right now.

“Scram rugrats,” Eddie says.

“But,” Dustin starts.

Eddie just holds up a hand to silence any disagreements. “Scram.” He approaches you, slower than normal as the others start to disperse. He reaches you and he moves to place a hand on your arm, and you let him, his rings cold against your skin but you barely even register the touch. You feel so unreal, the gravity of everything suspended above you, threatening to crush you at any moment. He waits until everyone is gone, and waits a little longer before trying again. “Hey, what happened?” he asks.

“Can I borrow your van?” you ask again. Not to avoid the question, but in an eagerness to get everything moving, keep everything moving, God you need everything to keep moving because if you stop, you will fall and you doubt you have the strength to get back up again.

“Sweetheart, you cannot drive my van,” he reminds you. You nod, realising you really haven’t thought any of this through.

“Okay, can I borrow you and your van?” you ask, your voice cracking now, every other syllable seeming jaded and stifled as it comes out. Eddie’s concerned look only grows.

“I am going to need you to tell me what has happened,” he says slowly.

“Eddie,” you try, “please, can you just…” you inhale, a deep shaky breath. “I need to get to Pennsylvania.”

Eddie laughs, part of him knows he shouldn’t but the ridiculousness of you stood in front of him, in the afternoon of a Saturday in blue jeans and a tee-shirt he knows you well enough to know is a pyjama top, asking him if he can take you to Pennsylvania is just too much for him not to laugh. “Got a sudden killer urge to see the Liberty Bell?” he jokes.

“Eddie I… I really can’t have you asking questions right now,” you admit, “can you take me, or am I looking at buses?”

“Wait, you’re really serious,” he says, looking you up and down, trying to decipher why in the name of all things, would you be so serious about this.

“As a heart attack,” you say. Or an accidental pregnancy, you think to yourself.

“That’s like… an eight hour drive,” he says.

“Is that a no?” you ask, and there it is again, the pain in your voice, the threat of bursting into tears right here and not knowing if you can stop. Eddie cannot bear it, the sight of you so empty, so broken.

“No,” he says, “I’ll take you-,”

“Great,” you don’t let him finish, “where did you park?”

“Right now?” he asks. You nod and gesture around as if to enforce your question. “I parked by Family Video.”

“Oh,” you say, “well I can’t go there.”

“Because you’re skipping your shift,” Eddie says, his studying you feels so invasive all of a sudden, like he can see right through you. He can’t, and he has never wanted more to be able to. Everything about you right now seems so far from normal. He wants more than anything to know what has happened, what is happening right now, why you’re suddenly a million miles from your body and you are asking the strangest things of him. He would’ve been less surprised if you had walked up to him and told him between him dropping you home last night and now, you’d gotten hitched to a member of New Kids On The Block. He just wants to know, so he knows how to fix it, how to help.

You can see that on his face. “I told Robin I was sick, and that’s not a lie,” you say, “I spent enough hours today chucking up yesterdays diner food that I don’t think I could look at a burger right now without wanting to hurl, so no, I cannot be around Family Video,” you say, but that’s not all of it. But you don’t have the energy or the ability right now to explain that to him. “So if you want to help Eddie, please go get the van and come get me.”

“So we can drive to Pennsylvania for a reason you haven’t told me?” he asks. You nod. “And we need to leave, right now?” You nod again. He nods slowly, pulling his keys from his pocket and swinging them between his fingers by the keychain. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.”

Waiting for Eddie could have been forever but it could have been a blink of your eyes, you're not sure because you're reeling. To find this out, to consider what this means and then try and get out of state the same day is what some might call impulsive choice making. But it doesn't really feel like you've got options. Not like this. Not now. There are so many conversations you'd have to have that your head starts to ache so much at the thought of it all that your vision blurs. You're not even sure what you're going to tell Eddie, and Eddie knows you better than anyone, Eddie has always known all your secrets, all except one.

You’re sat on the curb when Eddie pulls up, the van making all kinds of noises you’d usually be worried about, the type of sounds you’d start hammering into Eddie he needs to have checked out. But you don’t have it in you to be worried about that right now. That doesn’t matter right now. Just getting the fuck out of Indiana is a start.

You open the passenger side and slip in, you hadn’t noticed how long Eddie had been gone, but he must’ve been gone longer than fifteen minutes, because from the bag you can see peeping out from behind Eddie’s driving seat, he had a chance to swing home and grab a few things. You recognise your backpack you left at his for the nights you both drink far too much and cannot get home. The backpack with all the supplies you need to look like a functioning human the next day, anything emergency you might need. You give him the softest look you can muster, and he nods, the silent thank you acknowledged and immediately put aside. There were some things in your friendship with Eddie that never needed to be said, and this was one of them.

He lets you start the drive in relative silence, you reach to turn on the cassette player and before you can fill the quiet with heavy metal, Eddie’s hand rests on top of yours, pausing you, a gentle quiet gesture, trying not to push too far. But he needs something, he isn’t asking for all the answers right now, he doesn’t need them right now, a lot of it can wait, he can tell you need it to wait. But he needs something. “One thing, one answer and then you can blare Judas Priest all you want,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road, but you feel his gaze as if it were on you. “Just… why Pennsylvania, that’s all I am asking right now.”

It's a fair question, you know it is. You’re getting him to drive you eight hours across States and you’ve not given him the smallest inkling as to why. You shuffle in your seat, feeling the belt across you like a noose tightening. You wanted to run from Eddie because you’ve never been able to keep things from him, he knew all your secrets, except one. He recognises every single tell, he knows you, he has always known you and he can smell a lie from your lips before it makes it there, and you knew this would be no different. But you just need a few more hours where this is yours, and you can put things into order, find the right way to explain yourself, to explain it… to explain everything. Because you know you cannot just tell him you’re pregnant, you have to tell him… everything, and you know he will have questions and you’re not sure how to answer them yet. So you rake in a breath and bite the inside of your cheek. “Pennsylvania feels far enough away that no one will know who I am, and no one will care to remember,” you say, eyes on the road.  

You know he was looking for more, but he doesn’t ask for it. You know he will, but not yet. He let’s your hand go and presses the play on the cassette tape. Breaking The Law starts up, part way through the first verse and you sink back further into your seat, hoping you might just let it swallow you, but you know it won’t. You’re stuck in the long haul now.

The Night Of The Party

You weren’t sure of the dress. You stared at it for what felt like hours in the mirror. This was a party you were going to, and you had an idea about what that means you should wear. But the dress felt too different, it was something your mother had bought you, thinking you were someone else, she had a habit of doing that.

You wanted to slip into black jeans, you wanted to back out, but you'd convinced Eddie, you'd finally, really convinced Eddie and you weren't going to ruin that for yourself. Eddie leant around the doorframe, dressed in usual attire, a band tee shirt with a few holes in it, he'd claim aesthetic choice if asked but you know he has more often than not caught that fabric jumping fences. But he looked good, he always does. He smiled at you.

"You look..."

"Different?" You offered.

"You look like her," he said. You frowned, not sure what he meant until he raised two fingers behind his head to mock up bunny ears.

"Shut up Munson," you said, flipping him off. He meant no harm by it, and you took no offence from it, because it's him.

"Nah, see, there, just like that, you're back to being my girl again," he said, opening the door for you, "no floppy ears in sight."

"And you as always look like my misfit, I am glad you're not wearing the hellfire shirt."

"Are you? I can change."

"Don't you dare."

In moments like this Eddie felt like some wonderful dream, this figment of your imagination you’d conjured up to keep you from being lonely, but you doubted your mind could ever contrive something quite as wonderful as Munson. He stuck his tongue out at you and you flipped him off in return. At times like these Eddie felt like something you could keep, something that was truly yours, and yours alone. You had to share Eddie with school and work and life and the boys, but you never felt lost to those things. Like above anything else he was your Eddie. Your best friend. Your partner in crime.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” he said, ruffling out some of his curls with a shake of his head. You giggled.

“You’re like a poodle,” you had teased him.

“Calling me a dog sweetheart?” he’d asked, and leant over you, tongue lolling out. You’d laughed and shoved him back, palm to his face.

“Down boy,” you’d mocked. His laughter had carried you both out to the van and all the way to the house party.

The porch felt like the final and biggest hurdle, neither of you were exactly popular at school and this was akin to walking into a shark tank. Eddie asked you again why it was you wanted to even go. You shrugged. "Feels like a necessary experience," you stated.

"I think making out under the bleachers might be a necessary experience too," he teased, "need my help with that one?"

"If I need any help making out, I will let you know," you retorted before pushing open the unlocked door.

The party was the type of loud where you had no room for thinking, the music turned up so you can barely make conversation, the real sounds that compete with the speakers are the cheers and chants of those observing and partaking in the drinking games. The occasional less than sober giggle of those heading up to empty bedrooms.

"We can head home right now," Eddie whispered, offering you the out, sensing just how overwhelmed you could become. You shook your head. "We can have some drinks at the trailer, watch a movie, we do not have to put up with this, just say the word."

"I'd like to stay," you told him, and you'd regret those words before the hour was even up.

You'd gotten lost in the people at some point, a few drinks in, talking to Robin and Eddie had disappeared into the mass. You'd gotten a reassuring squeeze on the arm as you tried to wade through the crowds to find him. You didn't like the party. It wasn't for you, you knew it, he knew it, and he had been right. Eddie often was. You were ready to find him, take his hand and pull him out of his unimaginable hell and start a sobering walk home.

But when your eyes had finally landed on Eddie, he didn't look at all like he was suffering. He was smiling, leant one hand against the wall as he talked to some girl in a tennis skirt and even over the music and the crowd and the mess of it all, you could hear her laugh from a room away. All flirty and wanting.

And just like that, your stomach was being ripped out and you forgot how to breathe. Eddie wasn’t just yours, he wasn’t this magical creature that only you could see, he wasn’t something you get to keep to yourself forever, and you knew that. You were around Hellfire enough to know that, but it was different then, with the guys, you never felt like this. Something about some pretty girl with her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt as Eddie talked made you want to drown yourself in the punch.

So you had.

You had a drink, and then another, and then another, and somewhere between your empty bottle of vodka and the pile of red cups you lost count of just how much you were drinking.

Each drink made you more drunk, and the more drunk you became the less the feeling in your stomach of seeing Eddie with that girl was noticeable, so you got drunk. You got so very drunk.

Now

You hadn’t been asleep exactly, but you’d been clocked out and you weren’t sure for how long. The sky was darker now, the sun setting and the road lights starting to turn on. Eddie had changed the cassette over and is tapping his fingers on the wheel, not impatient or anxious, just absent of mind. You sit up straighter and he throws you a glance. “Back with me sweetheart?” he asks.

“Somewhat,” you say. Your voice is grouchy, and Eddie would think you’d woken from a slumber if he hadn’t spent every passing minute with you. “I guess.”

“You ready to talk about it?” he asks.

“No,” you admit, not holding back your discomfort as you try to roll the ache from your shoulders, but it’s not the drive and long time seated that is making your body ache, it’s the gnawing dread. “But I will.”

“I don’t mean to push,” Eddie says, and you don’t recognise the tone in his voice, it’s laced with something you don’t remember ever hearing from his mouth. Which is an admittedly strange experience given how long you’ve known Eddie, all of your life that mattered. But that thought brings clarity, this is probably exactly how he feels about your behaviour, how strange and alien it is to look at someone you know better than yourself and not recognise a thing they’re doing.

You sigh. “I couldn’t be in Indiana anymore,” you say.

“I got that part,” Eddie admits, and the chuckle is almost sad.

“I… I am sorry,” you say. You are. You’re sorry you’ve had to drag him into this. You had wanted another option, you’d wanted nearly any other option. But it was always going to be Eddie. Because Eddie is who you go to when you’re stuck, when you need help, when you need someone to bail you out or offer you a hand, when you need somewhere to crash or someone to cover for you, it’s Eddie. It’s always Eddie. It was always going to be Eddie.

“Don’t apologise,” he says, trying to shrug it off, “you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I think.”

You pull your knees up onto the seat with you, wrapping your arms around them, and resting your chin. “Remember the party?” you ask. Eddie scoffs.

“You mean Hagan’s party?” he asks. You rolls your eyes as you look at him.

“No I mean the beach party at the White House,” you mumble. He smiles, glad to recognise you again.

“There she is,” he whispers. “But yeah, I remember the party.”

“Yeah well, it starts with the party,” you explain. But memories come bubbling back.

You were leaning against a wall for support and you were looking for Eddie, even if you didn't want to see him, not if you might see him with that girl, with his hands on her waist, his tongue down his throat. The thoughts were swimming through your mind and you wanted to drink until they drowned. But you couldn't stop thinking about Eddie, the same way you can't stop thinking about him in the quiet moments, the late at night moments, the moments when thoughts of his tongue and his hands creep all too eagerly into your mind. You shook the thoughts out because now instead of hearing your name on his lips, hands tracing up the inside of your thigh, quietly whispering requests against your skin, looking for permission to have you. It was her you were picturing with him. Her skirt hiked up, her bra unfastened. His mouth leaving marks on her hips and you wanted to scream. So you downed your drink.

You shake them away, trying to start at the beginning, trying to keep it relevant, trying to not out your feelings. “I was two drinks in and we got separated, I saw Robin and she asked me if I had seen Vicky, and I thought I had by the beer pong so I tried to direct her and maybe the drinks were stronger than Craig let on, but I felt like I was spinning out,” you explain. Eddie nods.

“They were strong,” he agrees. His tapping on the wheel has gotten lighter as you start to talk, you know that means he is concentrating on what you have to say, but you know what Eddie is like, his mind runs faster than the conversation and he is jumping hurdles way ahead of the journey. You try not to let it distract you.

“I found Vicky and she was with her boyfriend and Robin said something about getting drinks, and she walked away and I was trying to find my way back to you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere and I didn’t really know anyone else and I didn’t like those I recognised and I needed air,” you pause, letting your eyes fall on the road, watching the little white dots marking the lanes disappear in flashes as the van moves forward, if you watch them long enough they become this blur of reflective light. You’re watching them, trying to find the words to explain what happened next. “And then I saw something, and I felt like I was…” you stop yourself. You can’t explain how seeing Eddie with another girl made you feel like you were dying, not now, you have too much to explain already. “I felt awful, I felt really, really awful and I wanted that feeling to go away.”

“What did you see?” Eddie asks, letting his eyes flicker over to you for a moment.

“That doesn’t really matter,” you say, trying to brush the question away.

“If it made you upset it matters,” he says.

“It’s not relevant to the story,” you say, “you just need to know I got upset, over something, something really stupid and I should’ve have gotten upset about it. I had no right to get upset about it, but I did. I got really upset. And I didn’t like feeling that way, so I made the third bad choice of the evening.”

“The third?” he asks, trying to keep a light tone despite the heaviness of the air around you both, the threat of this topic burying you alive ever prevalent.

“Well the second was leaving your side at all, and the first was convincing us to go,” you breathe out. “But anyway, I made the third mistake of the evening, I went back to the punch. And I drank.” You push your shoes against your palms, trying to ball yourself up as small as you can be, trying to hide from yourself. “I drank a lot.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything to that, and you half expect him to, but he keeps his eyes on the road, hands now on the wheel fully, no tapping, no lightness, and he waits for you to continue.

“And I kept drinking, and kept drinking, and at some point, someone, I think Tommy handed me a bottle of… cherry tequila I think, and I don’t remember how much of that I drank, but I remember a lot of chanting and encouragement and the bottle feeling much less heavy in my hands. I got dizzy after that, and I went to find some air, but I kept walking into door frames, and the ground kept getting dangerously close to me.”

“You were really drunk,” Eddie says. Had he seen you? You wondered. You had thought that after you saw him with the girl, you’d lost track of him for the rest of the night, and maybe you had, but just because you hadn’t seen him, didn’t mean he hadn’t see you. But you thought it unlikely, because if he had seen you the way you were he would’ve made you both leave there and then.

“I made it to the door, and then I nearly fell off the front step,” you say, “but luckily, he caught me.”

“Who?” Eddie asks.

“Just this guy,” you say, really not wanting him to push the matter. “And I was so glad to see him, I know him, we know him, I wouldn’t say I know him well, but it was nice to see a familiar face that didn’t make me want to crawl into a hole. And he was careful with me, and he helped me sit on the porch and get some cold air, and I thought I sobered up a little more, and maybe I did, but not enough because I went back inside and I found another drink. But I got halfway through it, and he stopped me. He seemed concerned for me, he could see how drunk I was and I couldn’t, I just wanted to keep drinking and stop feeling so bad, and jealous and petty because I had no right. But he took the drink off me and put it down, asking if maybe I wanted some water. So I let him get me water, and he was gone maybe a few minutes before some jock was hitting on me, and I wasn’t paying much attention because I was looking for someone, Robin I think, but you can only ignore someone for so long, and he tried to kiss me so I was suddenly very aware of how close he was and then the guy got back with the water and told him to stay the fuck away, and he did. I drank the water and I felt, giddy and I felt rescued.” The way you say the word makes Eddie’s fist clench around the steering wheel for a moment. You try to ignore it. “I felt rescued and I was drunk,” you say, “I was so drunk.” You suck your teeth for a moment, gathering up more of that courage to get yourself through the story. “So, I threw myself at him, repeatedly, insistently, relentlessly, it was pathetic and I wish the alcohol would’ve taken those memories away because the things I said to him, the things I suggested, it was… embarrassing. It is embarrassing,” you groan and return your face to being buried in your knees. “I hate knowing all those… filthy things I said, things you couldn’t pay me to say sober, things I never even thought would come out of my mouth, things I haven’t even thought about, but again… I was drunk. I was… so fucking drunk.” You inhale. “So I asked him to take me from the party, I hadn’t seen you in hours and I figured you’d gone home.” You can’t ignore the flicker of hurt that crossed over Eddie’s face as you say that. That you thought he would’ve left without you, without finding you. But you’d hashed that conversation out weeks ago. And you wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. So neither of you comment any more on it. “So he took me back to his place. He hadn’t drank so he could drive.”

“He what?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie I was so drunk I couldn’t remember my own address, I couldn’t tell him where to go because I didn’t know,” you say. He turns the steering wheel in a quick action, and the van jerks at the change as he pulls off to a layby. You hadn’t noticed how tightly he had started to grip the wheel the more you talked, but his knuckles are nearly white.

“I don’t… I don’t like where this is going,” he says. You see that look in his eyes, that anger, and you’ve seen it before, it’s the kind of anger that makes him slash tires and break windows.

“Eddie, no,” you say, trying to steady yourself, “it’s not. He wasn’t like that.”

“He wasn’t?” the words feel venomous as they drop from his mouth but you know the anger isn’t at you, it’s for you.

“I don’t have enough gaps in my memory for you to doubt me on this, okay,” you tell him. “He took me back to his place, and I tried to throw myself at him more, but he wouldn’t have it, he kept telling me that I was drunk and he was glad it was him that I fell into but no. He set me up in his guest room, and I threw up, a lot, and he held my hair back and made me drink ice water. I woke up in the morning and I had a bad headache, but it could’ve been so much worse. All the things I said, all the ways I acted, it could have been so much worse. I had a shower in the ensuite and when I got out, he had made me breakfast. And a hangover smoothie and I felt a lot better. And then I felt something else.” With the van in park Eddie is watching you very closely now, turned to you, eyes studying every small movement, waiting to catch you in a lie or react to whatever you might throw at him, what feelings you might have that bubble up, he needed to be ready. Because above all, he wanted to be here for you, he wanted to fix this, and he has long lost the thread on where this is going. “I felt grateful.”

Eddie wishes he could hide his response to that, and he manages to not sneer but the irritation is clear in the way he draws his breath in tight. “Grateful,” he says. You know why that bothers him, he has spent years showing you the difference between good behaviour and common decency, and you know better than to thank someone for not being the worst.

“He is a good guy,” you try but regret the words.

“Because he didn’t take advantage of someone so drunk they literally couldn’t remember the address of the house they’ve lived at their entire life?” Eddie asks. He looks sad, really sad and you want to break apart. He sees it in your face and he winces at himself. “Shit, sorry, I am not trying to make you feel bad, I just… I wish things were better for you.”

“I know,” you tell him honestly. “But I’m not done.” He had figured as much, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear where this was going now, but he knew he had to. “I felt grateful, and I felt stupid, I felt really stupid because I could remember all those things I said and I apologised over and over, and he told me not to worry about it. That people say dumb shit when they’re drunk, and I thanked him for being there, and he said he really didn’t mind. And I apologised again for putting him out and for hitting on him like we were dying tomorrow and he shrugged it off, and he said ‘I wouldn’t have minded if you were sober.’” You bite your tongue as Eddie does the same letting his hand squeeze the wheel again. “Eddie, he wasn’t… it was on me, okay. He was good and sweet and I felt safe because of him, and I got caught up in myself and… I kissed him.”

“You kissed him?” he asks. You can feel the memory of his lips on your collarbone, his hands all needy and giving. The ways he touched you, the ways he held you, the ways your back arched and your words become nothing more than whispers. But you do not want to think about that right now. Because if you think about that you'll remember how much you thought about Eddie, and then you might just sink far enough into the car seat that you don't return. Maybe that would be better.

“And then I more than kissed him,” you say. He nods, really not wanting more detail, and you not wanting to give it. “And that would’ve been fine, it would’ve been a dumb, embarrassing memory, and a decent hook up, and it would’ve all been fine.”

“But?” he asks. He is waiting for it, the penny to drop. This nice guy of yours, did he have a girlfriend he neglected to tell you about while he was kissing you? Eddie wants to say so many things, but he doesn’t he just waits.

“But, we got caught up in it, and I didn’t think, and I don’t know if he just didn’t think either, or if while I was drunk I said something that wasn’t entirely true that made him think he didn’t have to think,” your words are becoming riddled again and Eddie’s brow furrows, trying to follow.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I think I said something about the pill,” you say, “which wasn’t untrue, but I may have run out and not thought much about how long I’d not taken it, I started taking it again a few days later, and I didn’t think anything of it. Until yesterday,” you say. You watch it process behind Eddie’s eyes.

“You didn’t use…” he doesn’t finish the sentence. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “oh.”

“Oh shit,” he says, leaning back into the seat.

“Yeah, oh shit,” you echo. “The party was like five weeks ago.”

“Shit,” Eddie says again, “your pregnant.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” you whisper. You’re not sure when you started crying but you can feel the tears spilling out from your eyes now, dripping down onto your arms and exposed skin. “Not exactly a test I wanted to pass.”

“Shit,” he pulls you in, giving you a hug and resting his head on top of yours. He brings no attention to your sobs as you finally let all the feelings you tried to bury flow out of you. He doesn’t know what to say any more than you do. But being close to him, hearing his breathing, his heartbeat as he tries to keep himself calm, it reminds you of home, not your home, but true home, the place where you feel safe and understood and always welcome. That has always been Eddie for you. Now is no different.

“So Pennsylvania,” he says after a long silence.

“Yeah,” you manage, “it felt far enough away that it couldn’t come home with me, the whispers, the judgment.” You feel Eddie’s posture change, his shoulders falling lower, his muscles relaxing, you hadn’t realised how tense he had been. So it’s not surprising when you look up at him and his expression is soft, his lips gently parted in thought.

“Why are we going to Pennsylvania?” he asks.

“To deal with this,” you say, “and then never think about it again.”

He nods, you knew he wouldn’t try and talk you out of it, you knew he wouldn’t do anything but support you in whatever it was you wanted to do. Hell, knowing Eddie he would offer to take the blame, joke about a shotgun wedding if you wanted to keep it. But in his silence you hear the quiet for the first time, and the question you didn’t want creeps in.

“I am going to ask you once, and then I will never ask you again, and you don’t have to tell me,” Eddie says, “but the guy?”

“I haven’t told him,” you say. Eddie frowns for a moment, and then gives your forehead a gentle flick. “Ouch.”

“I wasn’t asking that,” he says, “I would never ask that, it’s not his business frankly, not unless you want it to be.” You give him a small smile. “No, I just… who was he?”

“You really want to know that?” you ask. Eddie tilts his head from side to side.

“I don’t know,” he admits, “curiosity might kill me, but I don’t think I am going to like the answer anyway.”

“You don’t like any guy that’s taken an interest in me,” you point out, rubbing some of the remaining moisture from your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Well, usually they are trash,” he says, “and I don’t think defending the guy you knocked you up is going to go down well,” he jokes, or mostly jokes anyway.

“Promise me you won’t tell him if I tell you,” you say. Eddie mocks offence, it’s nothing like the hurt you saw in him earlier, when you recalled how you thought he left without you, it’s all play.

“I would never,” he says, “you question my honour so?”

“I question your ability to not want to start something with him, because I know what you’re thinking,” you say.

“Has he spoken to you since?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, and he has. Not about it, not that you would have given him the chance to. You were so eager to forget anything happened at all, too embarrassed by the entire series of events and just wanting your life to go back to how it was. Just you and Eddie, with the rest of the world at arms length. But he has talked to you, he kind of has to, it’s hard to give silent treatment to someone you work with.

“About it?” Eddie asks. You look at your tattered converse and Eddie has his answer. “Unbelievable.”

“Did you call the girl you hooked up with at the party?” you respond. Eddie frowns again, all confusion now.

“I didn’t hook up with anyone at the party,” he says. You laugh.

“Not true,” you say. Eddie stares at you, blank. You don’t understand what reason Eddie would have to try and lie about that, especially right now. “Eddie, were you wasted?”

“I had three drinks,” Eddie says, “two of which I had with you.” He looks so clueless and you don’t understand it, the girl had been all over him, and she didn’t seem eager to leave any time soon, it had shocked you sick. It had sent you reeling, it had hurt you in ways you didn’t want to process, and he doesn’t remember it.

“Eddie, the tennis skirt,” you say, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. He still stares at you like you’re talking another language. “Eddie how many people do you have to get hot and heavy with that you don’t remember someone like that?”

“I told you, I didn’t get hot and heavy with anyone, I spent most the night looking for you,” he says.

“Eddie I saw you, with the flirty tank top and tennis skirt, she was like half a sentence away from jumping your bones,” you say.

“That’s got to be an exaggeration,” Eddie states, moving to take the van out of park and get back on the road.

“No wait, we need to finish this first,” you say, pulling the keys out the ignition. “She was drinking something really cheap with a cherry in it.” A look of realisation crosses over Eddie’s face.

“Estelle?” he asks.

“I didn’t stick around to ask her name,” you point out, “I was replacing all the water in my blood with alcohol remember?”

“Estelle, Tommy’s cousin,” he starts to describe her in vague detail and she sounds like she fits the bill so you shrug.

“I guess,” you say, “she was gorgeous, that’s all I really remember about her.”

“Was she?” Eddie asks. You laugh and it’s bitter and Eddie can’t tell why. “What?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice Munson,” you say.

“I guess I didn’t,” he says, “like I didn’t notice she was all over me apparently.”

“Trust me,” you say, “she was.”

“You sound…” he stops. You’re quick to respond to that, fear flooding you. You put the keys back in and try to nudge him to move the car.

“Places to be, problems to deal with,” you tell him. He doesn’t move. He is staring into nothing, like he is playing a reel back through his mind, hitting through the rolodex of memories. You’re scared of what he might find there.

“You said,” he pauses. You can hear his heartbeat, as it starts to hammer like an all too eager drum in his chest. “You said you saw something, and you got upset, and you went to get more drinks.”

“Eddie we should move, not let the night get ahead of us, we have miles to go,” you try.

“You said, you saw something that made you feel awful and you needed to drink to make that feeling go away,” he says, he sounds scared as he speaks and that fills you with a whole other type of fear.

“Eddie, please don’t think about it too hard,” you beg him, but you know it’s too late. He is a dog with a bone, and he has found all the pieces, it’s just a matter of time now.

“You didn’t stick around to ask her name… and that’s… I lost sight of you before that, and I thought I saw you when Estelle was talking and I came to find you but you must’ve already been getting more drunk,” he says.

“Eddie,” you say, not even a whisper, not even a plea, just a need to say it.

“And you almost sounded… jealous,” Eddie says, so hesitant on the word, “and that’s what you said you felt, sad about something childish and jealous when you had no right to be.”

“Well, how can I get mad about someone noticing you Eddie?” you ask. “I notice you all the damn time, hell I don’t know how to stop noticing you. But I can’t make other people not see you because it makes me feel small, unimportant,” you sigh. “I saw Estelle in her little skirt and her chirpy demeanour and I immediately wanted to drown myself.”

“You… you got drunk because of that?” he asks. You understand now with one simple sentence. He blames himself, that is the thing he takes away from this. You got drunk. You got vulnerable and drunk and he sees it as his fault.

“Eddie, no,” you say, but the words don’t bring comfort, because they’re not really true.

“I should’ve found you sooner, I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight,” Eddie stammers.

“I shouldn’t have made you go to the party,” you say, “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.”

“This is my fault,” he says. You punch his arm, hard and he throws you a wounded look. “Fucking, ouch.”

“You do not get to take credit for my accidental pregnancy,” you state, “did you knock me up? No. Did you drink your body weight in punch? No. All you did was let a pretty girl talk to you, you couldn’t know how that would make me feel.”

“I didn’t mean to let a pretty girl talk to me though,” Eddie says, “I only ever really want you talking to me.”

“I don’t know Eds,” you say softly, “I think there are things appealing about talking to someone who isn’t me, like a pretty girl,” you pause, “or guy.” He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, so brown and lost. He let’s the comment pass you both by in favour of something more important.

“You’re the only pretty girl I care about talking to,” he says. “Or pretty, anyone.”

“Eddie,” you say, “you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Eddie says firmly, “I do mean it, and I’ve been meaning it for a while, but I thought… how could you feel like that, that hurt and not tell me?”

“What did you think I was going to say Munson?” you ask. “Hey, I know you’re my best friend in the whole world, but seeing another girl flirt with you makes me feel like I’m dying, that seeing anyone noticing you in all the ways you should be noticed because you’re a fucking rarity, makes me feel like I’ve lost you. Makes me feel like you’ll wake up and find someone and forget about me, because I am in love with you Eddie and I don’t know how to process that properly so instead I got drunk and I hooked up with Steve fucking Harrington.”

Eddie wants to say a lot of things in response to that, to ask about the whole ‘you being in love with him thing,’ to tell you all the things he hasn’t said but always wanted to, to make you see that he sees you just the same. But only one word manages to form on his lips and he can’t keep it to himself try as he might it just falls out.

“Steve?”

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie x you #accidental pregnancy #love triangle #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #i will not be held accountable for this

[writing-by-mimi]

My opinion/thoughts on the Royals reactions to hurting you on accident during sex.

Adult content, read at your own risk. Not beta read.

💋Diavolo💋

     How it happened:

      Diavolo has been trying to pump a baby into you for months. Between his magic and his cock...he's a man with a plan and everything is inorder for it to work. What's in your pants doesn't fucking matter to him. He can make fucking sun's, whole ecosystems... getting a human pregnant is cake walk.

   But as every test you takes comes back negative he holds you gently, kisses your tears away and gently makes love to you. Between the hot devildom nights and quickies in his office twice a day, your getting so down on yourself. You should be able to help Dia sire an heir... but another negative test makes you sigh and hurry off to your scheduled quickie session.

      "You'll get it right this time." Like it's your fault... and it has to be.... what else could be wrong? "You'll be perfect soon"  "You surely can't be so weak as not to accomplish this." "Failure won't be tolerated." He's thrusting wildly and every single ounce of stress leaves him once he cums inside of you, telling you not to move. All you can do is hold yourself still and pray to not be so fucking worthless like he says.

     Aftercare:

      Once his high leves him, he can't help but look back to you. You haven't moved an inch after he told you to be still, as not to spill his seed. You're silently crying and grabbing the bottom of your shirt so hard. It's only then he realizes that all those things...you heard them, and you thought them meant at you.

     He'll scoop you up and explain. Tell you it was his own frustrations with himself. You mean more to him than he ever could have imagined, and the fact he's hurt you with such venomous words you believed you deserved..  he's going to go out of his way to make you feel special. Baby making is put on hold and he does make sure to tell you it isn't your fault in the slightest. Seriously, this demon is desperate for you to not be hurt and whatever he can do, he'll do it. Just say the words Mc. He'll make it a reality.

    

🖤Barbatos🖤

      How it happened:

          This man doesn't have much spare time, which is ironic considering his abilities, but he always finds a way to fit you into his schedule. I feel like Barbatos either has very vanilla taste, which when you don't indulge of sins of the flesh often enough can be peaceful and beautiful in its own right, or he has a very set way on how he expresses his love and devotion. Either way, you've always wondered how he has tea and sweets ready so quickly after he's fucked you into oblivion, but this time you have your answer.

     Barbatos has his cock stretching your hole, and for a moment, you can't help but think your delirious. There's no way you are seeing him set everything out while he is still pumping your body full of cum...but it's him.

     Your questioning, breathless voice catches the attention of the double stocking the tea table and as your eyes connect, you can see a sigh leave him. The eyes of Barbatos above you are still glazed, panting heavily above you and holding you with nothing but love and adoration.

     He understands when your angery, demanding he explain. He had hoped to avoid this, that you wouldn't find out.

     Barbatos has been picking through the time lines, picking his others selves carefully to spend time with you. In this time line he is so absolutely busy, he wishes to show you love and devotion, no matter what it takes. It's him in his bed with you, making you squeal and moan...though he understands how you may not comprehend it.

     There are many timeliness where he never got to experience your love, to hold your body and hear you whisper his name in ecstasy. So many timeliness where something happens to you... So many willing replicas who wish to love you as he does, if even for just a few moments.

     As the one above you pulls his cock from you, his eyes are soft and he cups your face gently before pulling his glove off. "My timeline... we had been wed. While we shared many years together, and I am always thankful for that time, I still miss your touch. Your eyes, your lips. You are not my Mc, but you are so amazingly close. You'll never replace them, and I'll never take you from him, it's a torture I wish not repeat to any version of myself... You may find it sick, twisted," He gazes at his wedding band, "but I just ask you try and understand. You deserve so much devotion, each and every version of you."

      You're still so angry, and you make it known in front of both versions. Barbatos of this time can't make time? Yet he can go and find another him? You're so lost, so fucking angry, but the Barbatos who had filled you just minutes prior just gently smiles and ask for forgiveness on both their parts. "I do wish I could give you more understanding of all of this, but I am afraid it would take longer than the years you have left."

        Aftercare:

      Barbatos, your Barb, does try and make you understand. He explains it all the best he can. He agrees to tell you which version of himself it is when doing anything with you, weather it be just softly holding hands or laying you underneath him. Even insist you meet the other versions who so desperately desire your affections. He assures you that you can't be taken away, he will always be there when you truly need him and his love will never waiver... he will always love you, and that's precisely why he does what he has.

      His apology, no matter how it sets with you will be fucking wild. A room full of hungry Barbatos's who will follow your every whim and command definitely makes you think long and hard about it. You even told him you'd do such naughty things to make him jealous with his different parts, yet he just simply smiles. You're with him now and every version of himself can love you. There will be no jealousy, just unadulterated love for you, Mc.

     (Mc, you're getting a Barbatos gang bang whenever you want. I'm begging you, take the fucking deal! (Also, be on the look out for this fucking fic fuckathon. Idky I never even thought of this before, but this is in my wips now. It's happening.))

#obey me #obey me! #obey me diavolo #obey me! diavolo #obey me! barbatos #obey me barbatos

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 12

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 3.2k

Content: little bit of throwing up (alcohol induced)

A/N: thanks to @quarter-life-crisis2 for beta-ing the first part of this! This is now the second time I'm posting this so i have nothing more to say lmao

Chapter Eleven | Masterlist | Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Twelve – Peaches pt.2 

You stood outside Yoongi’s front door, pie held carefully in your hands, breathing deeply, taking a moment to try to soothe your nerves. It was outrageous, you thought, that you could be this nervous. It was Yoongi. On the other hand, it was Yoongi. It was not every day that you confessed to harbouring romantic feelings for one of your best friends. It was not every day that you ripped yourself open and placed your fluttering heart before them, hoping, praying that they felt the same.  

It was not every day, but it was today.  

You squared your shoulders, shuffled the pie so it rested on the palm of one hand, and used the other to key in the entry code.  

“I’m here!” you called as you strode in and shut the door behind you. 

You could hear and smell cooking from the kitchen, music on low in the background. You kicked off your shoes and took a deep breath. You had run over a hundred different scenarios, a hundred different scenes; sometimes you just kissed him; sometimes you prepared a long, thoughtful speech; sometimes you played it casual; sometimes you told him you loved him; sometimes, even in your thoughts, you chickened out entirely; sometimes he rejected you and sometimes he didn’t. You always cried.  

You were still standing in the hallway, staring up at the invisible obstacle in front of you when Yoongi approached, spatula in hand, frown on his face. You tried hard not to notice how cute he was with his apron on, how domestic. You tried to stop your mind flying forward to a future where he cooked all your dinners, or you cooked them together, in the house you shared. You needed to keep a level head. 

“Oh,” he said when he saw you. “I thought I heard you come in but then you didn’t appear. Why are you just standing there?” 

Good question.  

You chuckled awkwardly and walked into the apartment fully, straight to the kitchen where you set down your pie on the counter. 

“What’s in it?” Yoongi asked. 

“It’s peach and nectarine,” you answered, wondering if he would remember, if he might understand its significance. 

“It’s what?” 

“Peach and nectarine.” 

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, expectant. 

“It’s what?” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes; your heart sang. You gave him a huge, dramatic sigh. 

“It’s peachtarine pie.” 

“Damn fucking straight.” 

He was in a good mood. You liked that. That had to bode well, right? 

“Do you want a drink?”  

Yes, you were offering him his own alcohol in his own house, but you felt like you needed it. You should have had one before you came out but time hadn’t allowed.  

“Sure, there’s wine in the fridge.” 

Not the sort of drink you had in mind. You checked in his fridge for soju and, finding none, walked around to his drinks cabinet where you deliberated between tequila and vodka, eventually plumping for vodka. Tequila gave party vibes which wasn’t exactly what you were going for. You returned to the kitchen and poured two shots.  

“Here.” 

You nudged Yoongi – who had turned back to the stove – and handed him the drink. 

“Wow, really? Are we celebrating or commiserating something?”  

He knocked back the shot anyway and you did the same, cursing Yoongi in your head for not keeping soju – or anything more palatable – in the house.  

“Nope. Just because.” 

“Ok, party girl.” 

He waved the glass out towards you, asking for another, which you gratefully gave, taking one more for yourself, too. That was a little more like it. You felt looser already. A little Dutch courage can go a long way.  

“What are you cooking for me?” 

You moved from the other side of the counter and stood next to him, peering into the two dolsots bubbling away. 

“Haemul sundubu.”  

“Yum, thanks.” 

“It’s almost done; there’s banchan in the fridge. And the wine I said I actually wanted to drink.” 

He grinned down at you and you hip-checked him, moving away to set the table and pour more drinks.  

You hadn’t decided when you were going to tell him. You had told yourself that you would show up and you’d just know when was the right moment; you knew now that that was bullshit and you should have come more prepared. The fear of spoiling everything was rapidly creeping up on you; Yoongi was in a good mood and you were having so much fun. You knew the second you opened your mouth to tell him, everything would change. Even if it was what you wanted, what you were hoping for, even if he said everything you most wanted to hear, it would change things. It was the last night of your friendship, for better or for worse. You felt desperately like you had to make the most of the evening, make the most of everything you had right now: the ease, the comfort, the little sparks of something more when he laughed at your jokes, when he smiled at you, when you got to touch him even a little. There would be no going back. So you delayed your jump into the unknown a little longer and it settled your nerves. It put off the moment and you could relax, at least for an hour or two. 

* 

The addition of a film after dinner had continued; it was supposed to be your night to pick but you couldn’t focus on making a decision so Yoongi picked one for you. You didn’t care. You weren’t even sure what it was, even though it had been on in front of you for the last hour and a half. You couldn’t have explained the plot if you’d been offered a lottery jackpot for it.  

You had your legs thrown over Yoongi, leaning towards him, sitting as you did every time now. He was slouching deep into the corner, his feet on the coffee table, picking idly at the threads of the holes in your jeans as he watched; your heart skipped every time his fingertips brushed the bare skin beneath. 

You could almost hear a clock tick as time went by, you still not having said a thing. It was coming. You knew it was coming. You knew you had to say something; you had steeled yourself for this. You had promised yourself you would do it. You had promised everyone: Taehyung, Nina, San. You had made Taehyung go to your apartment and wait on standby, so he could be there with no delay if it was a ‘no’. You had to do this. You were going to do this. And it had to be now. 

You reached out and put your hands on his, toying with his fingers. His immediately stilled and there was a twitch that told you he was going to pull them back, out of reach, but you held on. You kept his little finger in your hands, mindlessly fidgeting with it, finding yourself unable to look up at him. 

“Yoongi?”  

Your face was already hot, your heart already racing. He grunted inquisitively and you felt his eyes move to you. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You were still looking at his hands, your stomach doing somersaults; you wished you hadn’t indulged in so much stew now that it was threatening to come back up the way it went down.  

“Are you ok?” 

You nodded, your throat feeling choked already.  

“I, um... Do you ever... think about me?” 

You risked a glance up at him; he seemed surprised by your question and then confused. He leant forward, feet on the ground, taking his hand from yours to reach for the control and stop the film. Then he sat back, not slouching this time, and looked down at you again. You focused on your hands. 

“I mean,” you continued, before he could answer, “I mean that-… I- sometimes, just recently, I... I think, I have feelings for you.”  

Your face burnt so hot, it brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t know what to say next; usually your mouth did all the talking for you but it had dried up. And Yoongi wasn’t saying anything. You tried to speak and nothing but a croak came out so you cleared your throat and gave it another shot. This was not how you had imagined it going; it was supposed to be smoother than this, more confident. You hadn’t expected to be this meek; you weren’t meek. But the weight of this exchange was crushing. 

“I just mean that... Recently, I’ve felt... different... and I- I guess I just wondered if maybe you ever felt like... that. About me.” 

It took all you had to look up at him, to try to gauge his reaction, see if you could divine what he was thinking through his face. It was closed, impassive, inscrutable in a way that reminded you of when you first met—his silence in that third class, which you had put down to his ex, but he had never actually explained. You felt the same way as you had back then. You were sticky with nervous sweat, hot and flustered. Embarrassed and self-conscious and burning like you’d been skinned alive. The anxiety was rising in you, a panic that said it was going to go sideways, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. That something had already gone wrong. You tried to talk yourself out of it but the longer he stayed quiet, the harder it became.  

“Yoongi?” you whispered, the sound barely making it out of your throat, when the seconds felt stretched to minutes. 

He wasn’t looking at you; he was staring straight ahead until he gave you a millisecond’s glance and shook his head. You waited, again, for him to say something else, to say anything at all. There was nothing giving him away. You knew him better than this; you could read him; you could sense how he felt. But not now. Not now at a moment when you really needed it.  

“No?” you asked when he still said no more. 

He was looking down now, not at you but somewhere on the floor. There was pink at the tips of his ears; his cheeks just barely rosy. He shook his head again and cleared his throat. 

“No,” he confirmed, just as quiet as you were, his voice just as strained. 

“Oh.”  

Your attempt to mask the gasp you gave when trying to gulp in air was poor but you couldn’t bear the thought of bursting into tears, here and now. They pooled thick in your eyes and blinking them back only sent them scurrying, falling, streaming down your face in a deluge. You opened and closed your mouth, gaping, fish-like, a few times before you found the composure to reply. 

“Ok.” Your voice wavered. “That’s fine. Yeah, ok, friends I guess then.” 

You weren’t looking directly at him—there was no way you could—but you saw him, from the corner of your eye, nod, two almost invisible dips of his head. You removed your legs from over his, curling them under you, trying to keep your breathing in check. You didn’t know what to do now. You didn’t understand. You thought about what Namjoon had said, the way he had seemed so confident. Didn’t Namjoon know Yoongi? Surely he wouldn’t have encouraged you if he had known Yoongi didn’t feel the same.  

There was a tearing in your chest that felt like collapse. It had been quick at least. But it was sharp. You wiped at your wet face, wishing Yoongi would just say something, anything would do. You felt shut out, iced out, pushed out. Rejected. Which was exactly what you were. In an instant, he had moved a thousand miles away as he stayed sitting next to you on the sofa. You had never felt farther from him than you did at that second. It made your stomach sink like a stone in the sea. It made your hands go weak, incapable of holding a hand even if he’d let you. It made your blood burn with shame like the acid rising in your throat.  

Of all your hundreds of scenarios, all the practices you’d run in your head, none of them went like this. You always talked about it, sometimes you even argued, but it was never this. This silence, thick like fog, choking like smog, resting over you. You began to feel smothered, suffocated by it. You couldn’t breathe for fear of falling apart; you had to get out.  

Yoongi stayed still, looking at the floor, his fingers worrying a loose thread on his trousers. Did he want you to leave? Did he want you to stay? You couldn’t know and were not able to wait to find out. 

“I guess,” you said, when you found the ability to speak without sobbing, “I should just go.”  

Yoongi turned to you then, his face for a second wearing a look of panic. He opened his mouth as you stood and you waited for him, gave him a few seconds to tell you to stay, or encourage you to leave. He said nothing. So you walked, with heavy feet and a heavier heart, to the door.  

Yoongi followed you, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his fingers twisting around one another. You stooped to put on your shoes and it was only when you were leaning on the door handle that he said anything. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You looked back at him as you stood in his doorway; you blinked away more tears and you could almost have sworn you saw tears in his eyes, too. You didn’t stop longer to make sure. You turned tail and ran.  

* 

You had managed to hold in your sobs in the taxi ride back to your apartment; you couldn’t stop the constant leak of tears from your eyes, but you just about kept a lid on the worst of it. Then you flung open your door and fell to the floor, gasping and choking and barely able to breathe. 

Taehyung was by your side in a second, scooping you into his arms, stroking your back, pressing kisses into your hair, letting you make his T-shirt wet and snotty, not saying anything, knowing you weren’t listening anyway.  

You couldn’t quite believe it. Not because Yoongi hadn’t wanted you, but because you hadn’t anticipated it going like that. Because you didn’t understand. Because you somehow thought that there would be discussion; you could, now, think of things that you wanted to say, things you wanted to talk about; every thought and idea that had eluded you then flooded back now. You thought of the many ways you had broached the topic in your head and wondered why you did it like that. That wasn’t what you had planned. You hadn’t been clear, had you? Or you hadn’t got your point across? Or maybe you did? You just couldn’t tell. You were, entirely, in disarray. 

You also had to ask yourself, did it matter? If Yoongi didn’t feel that way about you, did it matter how he told you? Did it matter what he said or didn’t? Did it matter how you said it? He had clearly known what you meant because he had given you his answer. You had the answer you were looking for—you had the answer to your question, even if it wasn’t the one you had been looking for. The rest was irrelevant.  

* 

The emergency treatment for your heartbreak was booze and a lot of it. So much, in fact, that you ended the night with your head in the toilet, that seafood stew finally making its burning way back up, Taehyung standing behind you rubbing your back and making sure your hair was out of the way.  

He put you to bed, tucked you up nicely and, at your insistence, curled up next to you, where you clung to him like a koala, desperate to not be alone. 

Yoongi stood, gasping, at his door, unable to catch his breath. He was familiar enough with panic attacks to know that this wasn’t one, but he nevertheless sank to the floor and began walking himself through it. He focused on the inhale and the exhale, the counting that accompanied each usually uncomplicated step of breathing. He needed to focus on that. Anything so that he didn’t have to focus on what had just happened.  

Panic. That was one word for it. Insanity. That might have been another. Stupidity, certainly. He hadn’t expected it, could not have seen it coming even from a mile off. Nothing had seemed different. You were the same as you ever were; things between the two of you were normal. 

And then you asked him that.  

And he’d wanted to say yes. He was trying to. He wanted to open up to you and respond in kind and see if maybe something, anything, could have happened.  

But he couldn’t. The words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t force them out, couldn’t make himself say it. He could see it all crumbling; as if he had been watching from outside his body, he had seen it. He had seen himself fail, let you down, lie to you.  

And he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t understand the gut-wrenching, visceral fear that had gripped him when you spoke, when you looked up at him—timid and shy like he had never seen you before—and asked if he ever thought about you, said that you had feelings for him. Like a pair of icy hands, one on his heart and one around his throat, it took such strong hold of him that he literally felt strangled: couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do a thing that might have led him to happiness. 

And then you left. In tears. Because of Yoongi. He wouldn’t forgive himself for that. He probably wouldn’t forgive himself for any of it, but his own pain, he could handle. He was used to that. Causing you pain? Before tonight he would have said it was unthinkable. He would never.  

But he had. He had lied; he had rejected you; he had let you run out of his apartment with barely a word said.  

He had lost you. That was it. He couldn’t see redemption, couldn’t see a way to walk this back. Not a hurt this big. Not a stupid, pointless, embarrassing lie like this was. It was over.  

He couldn’t forgive himself for that either.  

* 

He stayed on the floor in the hallway until his legs started screaming for him to move, then a little longer. It wasn’t until Cherry came to chase him into bed that he stood up, walking straight through the apartment to his bedroom, not looking anywhere but straight ahead, not daring to glance at the scene of the crime, the scene of his immodest failure, a scene the very thought of which made him feel sick.  

He fell onto his bed and stayed there until Sunday.  

Chapter Eleven | Masterlist | Chapter Thirteen

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804 

#yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic

[cooco-ren]

I have returned once again with more delusional NagiReo content. Behold:

Not So Teacher's Pet (Coming Soon after I get my shit together!)

'Working is a pain- I just want to lay in bed all day and do nothing.'

Nagi wished he could apologize to his younger self for not being able to live up to their expectations. Starvation was a bitch and he needed money for games but even then, he wasn't going to get a job that would demand too much of him.

It's no surprise that after college he found himself as a teacher in some super fancy, rich people boarding school for Alphas and Omegas which only hired Betas.

Nagi wasn't entirely a beta, he had a rare genetic condition that cause him to manifest some Alphan traits as well as an unusual scent. He was still technically a Beta though and he needed the job.

Now he's twenty-five and living at least a smidge of his dream life. The pay was enough to cover more than his needs and wants, the school housed him and the kids more or less ignored or adored him.

Everything was going fine until this one transfer student was unexpectedly walked into his class by the headmaster. Nagi was given a file and a short explanation while the child was pointed to a free seat.

Name: Mikage Reo

Age: 16

Primary: Male

Secondary: Omega

Reason for transfer: Rehabilitation and close monitoring.

He wasn't one to judge based on looks but the child seemed remotely harmless. It wasn't until after class, when a pair of hands slammed down on his desk, forcing him to look up into demanding purple eyes, did he know he'd been wrong.

"You've got a weird scent around you."

"I'm very sure I said class was dismissed," Nagi tried to brush off, nobody had ever paid that much attention and being a Beta meant scent patches weren't a necessity. He wasn't going to start now because of one nosy kid.

But no matter how hard he tried to avoid Reo, the child always found away to get on his nerves or put them in pointlessly ridiculous situations.

Which leads Nagi to wonder how he got here, pinned on the bed of Reo's dorm room while he tried not fall under the spell of the pervasive pheromones of arousal swarming his senses. He knows he has to get out of this to save himself and his job.

The problem is...he isn't sure he wants too.

I shall get to this after my finals but for now let me know if you all want to see something of the sort.

#fanfic #fangirl problems #fanfiction #ao3 author #fanfiction problems #ao3fic #nagireo #bllk #anime #bllk reo #bllk manga #bllk nagi #bllk smut #bllk fanfic #future fic #fic writing #otp ship