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#i don't know what tags to use to make more people read these beautiful words
kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months
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Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…
I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !
You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Wildflowers Grow in Ruins
(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)
Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.
Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.
A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.
Wars are exhausting. 
You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.
But waging a war against yourself… 
Now that is pure hell. 
It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.
But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.
He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.
But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.
Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.
The day has finally come to let him go.
You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.
But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.
Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 
You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.
But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.
So why is it so hard to let go?
The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 
And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.
You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.
Good. 
Good.
Great.
You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.
The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 
It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.
Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?
The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.
"I need to talk to you." 
Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.
He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.
"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 
This should be easy…
It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.
"I think we should go separate ways."
The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.
"Ok."
It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 
"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.
He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.
"Is it because of my work?" 
"No."
"What is it then?"
Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.
Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.
"Hey. Hey."
He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 
"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"
His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?
His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.
And he must hate weakness.
"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 
It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.
"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?
"What do you mean?"
He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.
"Have you found someone else?"
What the…
"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"
He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 
"I'm just…" 
Jesus, this is just humiliating. 
"I'm just not your type."
"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 
He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 
Losing you.
"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."
"It's not that. You don't understand–" 
"Try me."
"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"
"Stop right there."
The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.
"Bloody fucking hell…" 
He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 
And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"This is the reason you wanna break up?"
Ugh.
"Yes?"
His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 
But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.
"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"
"I don't know." 
"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"
"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 
"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."
He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.
"Can I touch you?"
You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.
"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.
"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…
"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"
Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.
"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.
"Then why do you think you're not my type?"
"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.
"That for sure ain't true."
"But it is."
He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.
"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 
"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"
It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.
"No…?"
"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"
"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.
"No, I don't think I will."
He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.
"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"
You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 
It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.
"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."
"Simon–"
"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"
He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 
"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."
For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?
"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.
"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."
You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.
"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."
You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.
"Then let me help you."
The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.
"You don't even let me touch you anymore."
It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.
"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."
Oh my God…
Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 
That would explain why he has avoided you too…
He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 
Jesus fucking Christ.
"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."
"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 
He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 
Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.
"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."
Oh God–
"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."
"Hmh…"
"Don't wanna live without that smile."
You don't have to. 
God, you don't have to…
"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.
"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"
"...Ok." 
He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.
"Come on. Make me believe it."
"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.
"That's my girl."
Oh fuck…
He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 
And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?
The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.
"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."
He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.
He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.
He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 
No one can fake such fervor.
You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.
"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."
You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.
"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"
"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."
He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.
"Yeah…?"
"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."
His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.
"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."
"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.
"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."
If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.
"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.
"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 
"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."
Wow… He is a bit pissed.
Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 
It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 
"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 
Whoa. 
Ok…
First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.
You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.
Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…
There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.
"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"
"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 
Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.
He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.
Oh f–
"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 
"Uh–...."
Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 
"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."
"Oh god…"
There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.
"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 
You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.
"Simon–"
His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.
"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."
You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 
You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.
"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."
He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.
"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."
The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.
"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"
"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 
"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."
Shit…
"I, I'm gonna…"
Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.
He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.
Fucking bastard…
Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 
You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.
His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 
Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.
"Jesus Christ…" 
He sounds dazed. 
Relieved. 
"Should've done this weeks ago."
You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.
"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 
"Yeah. You should have."
"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.
"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."
He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 
The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…
And love.
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melannen · 10 months
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How To Make Your Own Fanfiction Archive, In Just Ten Easy Steps
As the go-to "person who knows about AO3" for quite a few people who read fanfic but aren't really linked-in to wider fandom culture, I've fielded a lot of questions about how to do certain things on AO3 to which my best answer is "you should really start your own archive!" I think, in general, more fans starting their own small archives would be a net good for fandom. AO3 was never meant to be the only archive for all fandom, or even the main archive, and the more spread out and backed up we are the more resilient we are.
But of course I have to be reminded that a lot of fans these days don't really have any idea how little "you should start your own archive!" really involves. (Also, that I should practice what I preach.) So I am now making my own fanfiction archive, and writing up this post as I do it to tell people how to make theirs!
Go to https://neocities.org/ and sign up for an account. It only needs a username (which will also be your website address), password, and email. Pick a username that will be related to your archive's title!
Choose the free account option (if you ever need more than what the free account offers for a text-only archive, you should probably look into graduating from neocities.) This should take you to a menu of "how to make a website" tutorials. You should do them! They're useful skills. But let's get your archive running first.
Hit the big red Edit Site button, or open the menu under your username and select "Edit Site".
Select the "Index.html" file to edit. You're now in an HTML Editor. Congrats, you're a web developer c. 1999!
Find where it has text between the < title> tags. Delete the filler text, and put in the title of your new archive. This text will be what shows on the tab when people go to your archive.
Find where it has text between the < h1 > tags. This will be big header text at the top of your page. Put the title of your archive here again. If you have no experience with HTML, you should read over the other sample text. It covers the basic basics very well! Once you've done that, you can delete everything else between the < /h1> tag and the < /body> tag. Save your index.html file.
Get an HTML file for a fanfic you would like to add to your archive. If it's on AO3, you can use the html download option built into AO3. If you have it as a word processor/google docs file, you should have the option to save as an html file. Save that html file to your computer.
Go back to Edit Site on Neocities and go to "upload". Find the html file you saved and upload it. (You can also drag and drop files to upload.)
The file you uploaded should now be showing with your other neocities files. Right-click on the title and select "copy link".
Go in to edit index.html again. Under where you put your header text, type < br> < a href=" . Then paste in the link you copied. Then type "> Then put in the title of the fic. Then type < /a> . Then save the index page again when you're done. You can do this for every fanfic you have.
Congratulations! You now have your very own personal private fanfiction archive that you are 100% in charge of and make all the rules for. It's at least as good as half the ones I was reading on when I started reading fanfiction and will serve its function well as a way to let people read your fic. You can link to it from anywhere you want! (Including your AO3 profile.)
Blogpost version, with FAQs and discussion
Anyway, here's my beautiful new fanfiction archive made using this tutorial:
Melannen's Fanfiction Archive
(I am honestly way more disproportionately proud of finally making that than I expected to be. It's nice to have your own archive.)
If you make one, share it here ! I want to see!
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auggieblogs · 5 months
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Love grows | Lando Norris Instagram au
Lando Norris x fem! reader
* ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which Lando and his girlfriend are disgustingly in love (and they are making it everyone's problem)
Author's note: Hello, beautiful people. Hope you all are having a good day/night!!! If you can't tell already I am hopelessly, completely and irretrievably in love with Lando and yes everyone has to hear about it (forgive me for I am insuffreable). Anyways, happy reading<3
―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist
yn.jpg
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liked by landonorris, pierregasly, and 136,801 others
yn.jpg muse.
tagged landonorris and arlo.dawg
comments:
username wow haha I am so normal about them (not)
username bf lando, my beloved
username the way he's looking at her in the second pic???
username I need to lay down username I need to be put down (in a grave) username DEAR GOD I SEE THE THINGS YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS
username I just know Lando is currently giggling and kicking his feet in the air, twirling his hair even
oscarpiastri can confirm
username "muse" GOOD FUCKING BYE
landonorris what do you have to say for yourself, now that I'm crying
I love you I love you I love you *liked by yourusername* I will do anything you for, you're the best thing ever yourusername will you eat sushi with me? landonorris anything for my baby!!!! carlossainz55 damn.
username I want what they have
username love how both arlo and lando can sleep anywhere
username I am sick to my stomach, they are too cute
charles_leclerc Arlo💓💓💓
*liked by landonorris and yourusername*
mclaren we can't have our driver giggling and blushing like a teen girl in the middle of a practice session, y/n🙄
landonorris OH SHUT UP
username bwahhah not the admin exposing Lando😭
yourusername sorry admin, can't help it. He's too pretty😞
username sleepover on the highway it is then
username y/n is better than me because if someone looked at me the way lando looks at her I would physically combust
lando.jpg
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liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 789,235 others
lando.jpg love grows, where my y/n goes:))
tagged yourusername and yndoesart
comments:
username word.
username never beating the y/n lovebot allegations
username she. is. so. pretty.
username GOD REALLY HAS FAVOURITES HUH
yourusername "my y/n" blushing so hard rn
just fell to my knees in a wallmart parking lot
I will kiss your face. I LOVE YOU
landonorris right back at you, baby (I love you more)
*liked by yourusername*
maxverstappen1 what are you doing in a wallmart parking lot?
username sunshine in human form!!!🌞
username no bc she looks huggable
arlo.dawg mum💞🤭
username man is IN LOVE SHGSSKKSKD
username just stalked her art account, so she's beautiful and incredibly talented????
f1 Great artwork in the first picture👏💯
*liked by landonorris and yourusername*
yourusername awh thank you!!!
landonorris one of my favs actually;)
username crying, screaming, shaking, throwing up, pulling out my hair, bashing my head into the wall & going apeshit
username love how they both are equally whipped for each other
danilericciardo whipped is an understatement
landonorris don't hate us for being in love🙏🏻
username mhmmmm who's joining me for Russian roulette?
username MY Y/N? MY Y/N??? I AM ACTUALLY SOBBING
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Text
So I've seen some people say we don't need a six of crows spinoff because shadow and bone season 2 basically covered all the book material like WHAT? No. We need a spinoff. We still haven't gotten:
- Matthias joining the crows and calling Kaz a demjin
- Mathias's ghost not associating with everyone else's ghost.
- Nina casually raising the dead.
- Nina calling Kaz an idiot for calling Inej an investment.
- "You're better than waffles, Matthias Helvar."
"Let's not say things we don't mean."
- Nina and Jesper flirting the entirety of Ketterdam into submission.
- That scene where Inej is sitting on Kaz's windowsill and he gets lost for words because of how beautiful she is.
- Jesper's apology to Inej
- Colm Fahey!
- Alys Van Eck annoying the heck out of everyone with her singing
- The reveal that Wylan is Jan Van Eck's son and the angst that will come with this new timeline of events on the show
- Both Kaz and Inej kind of adopting Wylan
- Jesper saying "I can read to him."
- "Wylan Van Sunshine."
- "What do you think my forgiveness looks like, Jordie?"
- THE BATHROOM SCENE. Chapter 26, Crooked Kingdom. The actual version this time. You know the one.
- Kaz meeting Inej's parents and "is my tie straight?"
- "I would come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were we'd fight our way out together- knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting."
- The entire Ice Court Heist
- That scene where Kaz faints and Inej helps him.
- Kaz and Inej holding hands.
- "She was Inej Ghafa, and her future was waiting above.
- Somehow, the line where Kaz calls Inej "lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved" has to be incorporated.
- When Inej and Kaz first met
I mean, I like these books a normal amount...
Sorry this turned into a lot of Kanej moments.
Anyway, there's probably a lot more, but I'm getting a little anxious about how long Netflix is choosing to make us wait... I just really hope they don't cancel it.
Edit: These were of the top of my head, I missed a lot. Here are some more because I can.
Cont...
- Nina and Inej singing together
- Kaz and Wylan falling through a roof together
- "How about I throw you in the canal, and we see if you know how to swim?" Wylan Van Eck
-I'm not big on killing unconscious men."
'We could wake them up."
- Jesper saying he believes in true love (obviously referencing Wylan akdjfjsk)
- That scene were Inej scares the living daylights out of Pekka.
- "Maybe I liked your stupid face."
- "I will take you home.
"Nina, I already am home."
- Wylan spitting in Van Eck's face.
-Someone in the tags mentioned Matthias calling Nina 'little red bird' like YES I need it.
- And imagine Kaz calling Inej "my girl" OUT LOUD I would die on the spot my heart couldn't take it.
- Matthias saying "You're all horrible," about the other crows but then eventually coming around with "They all seem like practical choices."
- Kaz ripping Oomen's eye out and throwing him over board after he injures Inej
- Jesper's "He deserves a better father than you."
-"I-Should-Let-You-Die,"Matthias grumbling as he is resuscitating Kaz
- "I can hear the change in Kaz's breathing when he looks at you. It catches every time, like he's never seen you before."
- When Inej tricks Kaz into coming up the stairs with her to scout the area, vanishes and leaves him up there to walk back down the stairs and he smiles instead of being angry
- Still kinda disappointed they didn't have the 'not just girls," line, I know wesper is different in the show, but I'd still love to have it. (At least we have it in the interview.)
- The same for when Jesper reaches out and starts adjusting Wylan's satchel with his 'But that's not all I want."
And I could go on. But I don't want to make this post ridiculously long.
In conclusion, there is PLENTY of book material still to cover.
GREENLIGHT THE SPINOFF NETFLIX!
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svndaysaweek · 7 days
Text
Overture (Prequel to Enlightenment) — {Feat. Karina}
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A/N: You don’t know how old this draft is… I still remember that anon who sent a few asks about this series, and I really hope that they read this! This one is the longest I’ve ever written. Might not be the best piece, but I’m so proud of myself that I did my best. Thank you @dnd-writes for editing and giving me awesome advices. Enjoy!
*Prequel to “Enlightenment”
******
“Doesn’t matter how the two met. It’s about how they’re together ‘til now.”
******
It’s the first day in your new high school. It’s already March but the breeze is yet to blow winter away, strongly acclaiming its presence with the icy wind you face as soon as you come out of the main building of your school to go to the cafeteria. You haven’t made any friends to have lunch with yet, so you change your mind to just head to the smoking spot–behind the auditorium which is already an alien building itself–and kill some time smoking. You turn your way to the smoking spot inside the huge tide of students heading to the cafeteria. Freezing air makes you pace up to the spot.
After passing a few corners where even the wind has been disturbed to travel through, you find a drum can with fire in it making a peaceful crackling sound.
And a girl standing right by it as if wanting to get burnt. “Are you the new one?” Her voice is sharp enough to make it sound wary, yet quite chirpy to end up hitting you as rather coquettish.
“I don’t… I don't really know you,” Your steps towards her contradict your words. “Me neither.” At the fire you light your own cigarette. Your eyes scan her body from the ground to meet hers doing the same to you. The yellow name tag catches your eyes. Her name is Yu Jimin, third grade. And where the name tag is what makes your attention gather up too–perfect size, matches her wavy figure and sassy face, calmly heaves when she’s inhaling in the smoke.
“My name’s not that hard to read,” That’s when you realize that Yu Jimin, this unusual girl, will be an attraction with challenges. It’s all in her grin, in her turbid eyes that never leave yours–to be honest, it’s yours that never leaves hers; they won’t let the leash on your eyes loosen, until she wants to.
You suck it in, and breathe out a mouthful of smoke in the cold air. You look at her again and she's been watching you thoroughly, from head to toe, examining your body, shape, façade and all things she finds nice to look at, regardless of you mirroring her like once isn’t really enough.
She’s got such a nice, sculpted body, hidden under the school uniform but even more premo like that; concave and convex, it just hugs her curves impeccably. Narrow waist and wide, tight hips causing the skirt to struggle not to be torn apart. What’s more is her face, at the height of your chest, looking almost unrealistic, inhumanly beautiful, especially with a shallow grin like right now.
You are automatically making steps toward Jimin and she’s not backing up. You turn your head right to let out the smoke and then return to the ongoing gaze between you two.
“Don’t I look cold?” Jimin steps backwards, from the fire and from you. It makes you just automatically look at her legs, so slick and teem with femininity. You keep following what she tells you to do, what the hormones tell you to do.
“What do you want me to say?” It should be delivered as a counterattack to the dominance Jimin has shown you, but it, unfortunately, ends up sounding as if you were really confused. And Jimin almost bursts into laughter which she manages to hold in.
“So, third grade? What class are you in?”
“Two. You?” You drop the used cigarette and step on it to put it out. “Four. I’ll drop by sometime, handsome.”
Then she leaves the spot just like that. You are so interested in the girl Yoo Jimin. Given that she’s pretty like that, smokes around, she’s nothing like the normal students, obviously. And you can tell Jimin also found you special. Yeah, you know people don’t get to see a man like you quite often. You also know you don’t get to see a girl so appetizing like her often. It’s third year in highschool. You’re no amateur to let a girl play you around, rather, you’ve learned to control those feisty, hungry girls, but ugh, to be honest you don’t know what’s going on. 
******
She never comes to see you until the end of school. Nor do you, because you thought you could wait–precisely, you thought you had to wait. You definitely want to take the upper hand in this new relationship so you just head home, yet with a bit of disappointment. But you don’t let anyone know. Maybe she’s just playing you out. That’s unacceptable for you. You calmly wait for the bus deep in thought. Maybe find someone else tomorrow. I don’t know.
“Hey, going somewhere?”
Fuck. It’s her. Jimin.
You think of complaining, but swallow it back and answer. “Home. You?” Jimin shrugs with nonchalance. “I don’t know. Your place, maybe? Do you live alone?” She lunges in suddenly, and you could just let her be as spunky as she can be. “I do. Why do you want to know that?” You throw a question, feigning calmness, and Jimin just smirks back.
“Don’t ask me.”
You’re on the bus. You let Jimin take the window side and sit next to her. You stuff your ears with some random songs and lock your eyes to the screen in your palm to leave the absorbing girl next to you out of your world even for a second.
“What made you move to my school?” Suddenly one of your earphones is between her fingers, your arm in hers to squish her breast slightly which feels so intentional. This bold little chick keeps surprising you in unforeseeable ways. Besides, you can read that she’s definitely testing you. Seems a little bit like an upside-down situation, for you to be the object, and oh, don’t you say you don’t find this rather fun.
“Well, there was an accident. You don’t need to know any further.” Her questions don’t seem to end, however. An eye roll might silence her—
“You can tell me. It’s alri-“
“You’d better shut the fuck up, Jimin.” Your fingers hold her chin up, facing you, merely a breath away as your noses tickle each other. And what gets you a moment later is her eyes, round and glowy, that could easily see through your brain, trying to suffocate you in the vivid yet gooey gaze. And there she plants her words straight into your brain; I’m a little impressed, but try harder. 
A sudden squeak of the brake informs you to get off. You step out of the bus and Jimin quietly follows. Then you start walking at a rather slow pace. The sound of another pair of footsteps is the only clue of her existence for you.
“You made me wait.” You break the silence as you near your house. You don’t bother turning back to be an audience for her commanding attitude, but her cockiness nonetheless makes it to your ears.
“Well, I might have just forgotten. My bad.” You unlock the door, let Jimin in and close it. Right after the thud you pin her arms over her head with one hand, eliciting a sharp yelp from her.
“You made me fucking wait, Jimin. You’ll have to pay for it.” Your face is just a few inches from hers again. Your straining voice is mixed with her breath, hot, and your burning gaze never leaves hers, to return the blow that she had on your mind; you don’t know me yet.
“You should feel lucky.”
“Why?”
“I’m interested in you.” Jimin’s words, however, don’t sound tense or weak despite your visible dominance. Rather, it’s an impudent confidence that defies the dynamic knotted between your eyes. Jimin herself visualizes it with an even wider smile, dense with deliberate harm to your ego.
“Mmm…!” You dive into Jimin’s lips while your other hand suddenly wraps around her neck hard. Keeping the chokehold still, your hand once holding her wrists tears her school shirt open, letting the buttons randomly fly to the floor. With her hands free, they dangle on your arms. Her demure hand tries to push you back from her neck, but her tongue is flapping inside your mouth, already allured by the intenseness. Your other hand hesitates about before swiftly undoing her bra and Jimin drops it on the floor. You squeeze the godly pair of flesh and soon pull back from the kiss.
“Shit, you like it rough, huh?” Jimin giggles, with a killing lip bite, and discards her buttonless shirt. There you feel something kick your heart, to see a girl enjoying your selfishness and harshness for the first time. A thought that this girl might be the one for you passes through your mind like a hit-and-run truck.
You turn yourselves around and make Jimin walk backwards to your bedroom with your guide. Jimin doesn't wait to unbutton your shirt on your way, and the corners of her lips soon get pulled down by the lust exponentially charging up. You try to look calm but you’re no different–can’t help it in front of this amazing figure of Jimin, skin-to-skin just for you.
Entering the bedroom you push Jimin onto the bed. Her under lip experiences another intense bite as you lay her down and climb over her body, face to face just like a few minutes ago. With one hand supporting your weight, you take the other to her irresistible breasts and fondle them. Jimin hooks her arms and magnetizes your lips to hers for a delirious lip lock once again. Your hand slides down her torso to the button of her uniform skirt and undoes it then takes it off of her fatal legs and throws it to the floor.
“Next time you won’t wear these, okay?” It’s a demand but also a command, with your fingers on the wet spot on her panties. Her hands find themselves wandering on your toned chest, much in admiration. She nods quickly and unbuckles your pants.
“Needy,” Her hastiness makes you grin, and your words only make Jimin’s excitement grow.
“Yes. I am.” This is what makes you wanna accept the challenge; she’s talking things like that all too fresh, like you have to feel thankful for it. You take your pants off with your underwear to be fully naked. You help Jimin get rid of the annoying cloth being dampened by her pussy off her legs and throw it to the pile of clothes on the floor. With the anticipation for the next step Jimin’s breath paces up, running thin like her patience.
“You’re fucking big…” Jimin marvels at the way your cock tickles her belly button and her tummy. You slap her bare stomach a few times with your cock, spit on it and spread the slickness across with slow strokes.
“I said you’ll have to pay for it, Jimin,” You rub your cock on her wetness, gaining more lubrication, and slap your cock on her folds to see her reaction.
“Ah, please make me…Make me-OH FUCK…!” You push into the hilt with a swift thrust. The tightness draws a groan straight from your throat, and your right hand rises to her neck and chokes her hard again.
“You tell me who’s lucky. You think it’s still me?” Straight to the point that has been bothering you ever since it was spoken. You love to make things clear—dirty—who’s the one to stand and who’s the one to kneel. And if she ever intended to get under your skin, well, she pushed the wrong button.
Jimin’s eyes slam shut, unlike her agape mouth through which you can see her tongue has lost its way, dragged here and there by the hand of her senses, overthrown by what you’re doing. You keep thrusting in and out at such a pace, every time making sure your balls hit her ass, filling her tight hole up ecstatically with no vacancy.
“Hah, god…! It’s me, I’m the lucky one! I’m so fucking lucky to have your big cock inside me!”
“Good. See, your act doesn’t last a day.”
Her lips tremble, as if about to cry, as if all the fucking around was just a pretense and she actually has to be under you. She bites the lower one but can’t hold the shiver down. 
You move your hand from Jimin’s neck to her face, grabbing her cheeks in one grip. You bring her face close to yours, both shaking to the orgasmic rhythm but never losing eye contact. Then you slap her cheeks, out of nowhere, just enough for the sound to be pleasurable but not too painful. Jimin starts to drool when you do that several times more, with loud, long moans gradually turning into screams.
“Oh, fuck, yes…! FUCK YES…!” Done with the hitting, you push in your fingers to Jimin’s unsilent mouth to get a better hold of her body. A teardrop leaves her glossy eyes and rolls down to where her ear is. A perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, both of which makes you two forget about tomorrow.
“I’m cumming, Jesus! I-I… Fucking cummi-“ Jimin’s back viciously arches so upward that you almost slip out. Her arms don’t seem to settle for a while before they dig into your back to work as anchors, her body vulnerable in the midst of a destructive swirl of pleasure. But that’s none of your concern as you make the haze in her head threaten her consciousness.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” You wait for Jimin to come down but that’s so silly of you to do so; your ravageous ramming cock never lets her. All of a sudden you pull out, causing Jimin to shake immensely, and flip her on all fours. Her sex is glistening and the other hole is too, both of them slick with her juices and constricting irregularly.
When Jimin feels your cock rub on her pussy she collapses onto the mattress, only her ass up and her face down, exhausted on the bed, faced to the right. But whenever your cock teases her other hole Jimin shudders, toes curl and her fists try to tear your sheets at the sensation of her asshole getting stimulated.
“Agh, fuck…” You don’t warn Jimin when you insert the head of your cock inside her tight ass. This time even you can’t handle the pleasure of its tremendous tightness as you shut your eyes and groan loudly.
“Holy fuck, Jimin, this is so tight,” You tell her when you’re halfway in. Her body stays still, but her hands ball up and her toes curl until they all become pale. Every inch deeper inside her ass is the moment for you to admire the transcendental tightness you’ve never experienced from those other girls you have been through. Maybe you’re lucky too, to have found this perfect body with nothing to lament on.
“Oh, please, that’s deep! Fuck my ass deep just like-oh my fucking god!” Your reaction is quick—it’s more of a reflection though—doing more than what Jimin asked even before she finishes her words, beginning the mindless assfuck with such a carefree pace. You bring her powerless head up with your hand wrapped around her neck, tight, choking her again. The tighter you grip, the tighter her ass gets. You catch a glimpse of the crooked corner of her lips, which only fuels your inner engines to work even harder.
It’s just your thing; when you see a smile, you have to break it. You destroy it, and you sincerely cherish it when it’s gone.
As you reach your maximum speed Jimin’s distorted smile subsides and an even more euphoric look spreads. Mouth open wide, drooling down her chin and onto your hand on her throat, eyes open but white. As if she muted herself, Jimin doesn’t even breathe—not only because of your grip, but also the orgasm building up as fast as how you ram her ass. You grin at the sight of Jimin drowning in the sensations her own nerves convey; you create. It kills you how small her body is, when you can witness a simple—yet ruthless—piston to her crotch can dye her whole skin red, travel electrically to everywhere in no time, shrinking every minimal muscle. You release her, she falls down limp on the bed and screams at the anal orgasm hitting her, threatening her consciousness.
“Ahh! Fuck, fuck…!” You’re nowhere far from your own end, either. Your breath shallows down at the crazy tightness of Jimin’s orgasming ass. 
“Jimin, I’m cumming…!” You do. You reach as deep inside her anal cavern as you can and unload your cum, mind blowing pleasure coursing through every corner of your body. You shoot, and shoot, and shoot. Jimin clenches her hole for your cum to be deposited inside her with a lazy hum, in harmony with your groan seeping out of your gritted teeth.
It takes a few minutes for your breaths to find the normal speed. “No one’s fucked my ass this amazing,”
It surely was enough to bring amazement, undoubtedly the best you’ve had so far. You sit up and rearrange her hair for her.
“Did I pay for it?“ Jimin’s already got that bright smile back, and after such an extreme sex your barriers collapse in front of her, as you smile back at her.
“Very much.”
“Can you get my phone? It’s in my skirt.” You head to the pile of discarded clothes and do it for Jimin, who’s sitting on the bed with her head resting on the headboard. You toss it on the bed.
Jimin looks into her phone right away, scrolls down mindlessly and looks at you, who’s naked and standing next to the bed.
“Take a shower first, baby.”
Baby, she said.
Your eyes dart to hers immediately. Your face stays placid but you know Jimin knows you’re not at all used to it. You never really allow any strings attached with the ones you fuck; it’s a rather body-to-body entanglement than something emotional. But you’re surprised at how that word fits comfortably between you two. There’s something different. You look back at Jimin but her attention is taken by her phone already, again like a hit-and-run truck, but not completely as you can see her smirk the way you love. So you just enter the bathroom. 
In the shower you review the past 30 minutes—you had sex with the girl Yoo Jimin: nothing special. But not just that; Jimin has by far the best body of all the other girls you’ve experienced. You can tell you really enjoyed it today. You can tell she’s worthy of continuing the relationship. You like the way Jimin turns from a bubbly, sassy girl in school to a begging, screaming mess in bed under you. And the way she calls you baby—it dulls all your edges like a cup of boiling water would do to an ice cube. Just like the hot water pouring on your head.
You come out of the shower and see Jimin smoking on your bed, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed, elbow on her thigh, still aesthetically naked. She looks gorgeous like that. You walk to her, take the cigarette from her hand to your mouth. Then push her down on the bed, breathe the smoke in deep and throw the shortened cigarette away to the bin next to bed, breathe out, and share a smoky kiss.
A few moments later your rod pokes at her belly and Jimin parts away with a giggle.
“Fuck, I really have to clean my body.” You bring her off the bed with you. “Shut up and get down here,” With a smirk she does, and as soon as she adjusts her legs and position you shove your cock in her mouth. A gag earned.
But after that Jimin takes your big cock pretty well, without gagging or looking uncomfortable, even when her nose crashes on your crotch; you’ve found yourself a perfect girl, indeed.
“Nice.” Her teary eyes never leave yours throughout the session as you pace up for a brief finish. Adjusting to the speed of your cock moving entirely in and out, Jimin’s hands go up to the back of your thighs for firmer grip.
Jimin’s drool tickles down your balls and forms a small puddle on the floor. With the filthiest slurping sound Jimin bobs her head at the beat of your cock sliding through. Whenever her delicate tongue presses onto the underside of your cock you throb inside her mouth, making her head slightly move simultaneously.
Jimin’s tears meet the drool on her chin, and with a sound of her voice from her throat Jimin taps your thighs for you to pull out. You take your cock out of her mouth and slap it on her fucked face a few times, painting her face with her own saliva, to her liking.
“Finish it.”
Put the shower aside, and you shower Jimin with your lust deep into her throat. You feel your legs not far from giving in, but thankfully your cock is just the same, due to what Jimin is doing under you.
“Jimin, I’m-I’m close.”
Jimin starts to fondle your balls and that certainly helps you cross the line. In no time you fill her throat up white, and the room with your satisfied groan.
You look straight into Jimin’s eyes when you cum, and it’s astonishingly reciprocated when she gulps down your load quickly, professionally. As soon as you are done pouring into Jimin she stands up, showing you her clean tongue with a tilt of her head, and heads to the bathroom. You, left alone, giggle quietly and sprawl on the bed after putting on underwear. 
******
“Text me at lunch break. You know where to meet me.” You just nod at Jimin, who’s in one of your T-shirts that is just a little bit big for her; loss of all the buttons on her uniform comes at a cost. An inner beam blooms under your face when you find her just too perfect in that outfit of school skirt with your T-shirt tucked under it. Those unhidden bra lines count as one of many reasons for you to stare at her, take her in your arms right now and-
“Not now, perv.” Her smirk lets yours surface up to reciprocate hers. You stand up from the bed, approach her and walk her backwards to the wall. Jimin has been playful and relaxed with you and you like it. But when you—just like right now—detect submission in her eyes: you love it. You don’t stop your hand from rising up for her neck and have a good grip around it. You don’t stop the other from being pulled away to her gracious tits and squeezing them.
“Not now?” And there are those big eyes begging for you to go further, that bitten lower lip asking for any contact, as if the one who just quipped ‘not now’ choked out. Always hits you differently when she just switches from a brat to a subby mess out of control.
Contradiction is the most normal of things when you have a tight grip over Jimin. Her reddening face gradually forms a thin smirk when your lips close in to hers. Her eyes close, lips part for a mind-numbing kiss—
“Not now.” You make a sudden pull back and release Jimin from your grip. She stumbles and almost collapses on the floor so you hold her in your arms. For the same purpose and then some, her arms rest on your shoulders and pull you in, only to be denied by your hand pushing her chest off of you, leaving Jimin just keeping a hungry gaze at your lips and whimpering “Please.”
You finish tying the necktie, bring your thumb up to her lips. As it sweeps over them Jimin lets her tongue coat your thumb with her saliva which could’ve blended perfectly with yours.
“To the spot at lunch break, Jimin. And ah,” You stand down and pull her panties down in one sway and she helps herself out of them by lifting her legs respectively. You toss it on the bed and rise up again, for your collarbone to match her height, for her to look up at you again.
“You don’t wear the same panties for two days straight, do you?” Jimin just nods quickly and tries to crush her lips on yours yet again. Seems like she wouldn’t care even if you made her go to school all nude, if she could just mix her tongue with yours right now. Her efforts to make you kiss her is visible to you; eyes so seductive yet not able to take themselves off of their foremost target, lips slightly open for her tongue to peek outside. Seeing that you just step back and prepare to leave for school with an unseen smirk.
“Let’s go.”
******
As anticipated, needy and untidy Yoo Jimin sends you a dozen pictures of her bare crotch under her skirt, saying ‘Want your fingers inside’, ‘Can’t wait for the lunch break.’ Those are to be left on read.
Morning classes fly by as the bell rings to announce the lunch break. The class rushes out for lunch, has a race among them with some of them even running like they have something to win. And amongst that crowd you head to the spot, to Yoo Jimin.
She’s there already waiting for you when you turn the last corner. Legs crossed, back on the brick wall and a half-spent cigarette between her lips, looking so delinquent there with that insanely short skirt and in the shirt you gave. She notices you, has a reet smile on her and throws the cigarette on the ground, and watches you approach her standing still. No immaterial words or acts are needed when you can just kiss those lips like they’re yours. The remnant of the cigarette a fume that makes you dive deeper into this trance her tongue and yours are building, you spontaneously get rid of her skirt and are met with the wet skin under it.
Your fingers taste her crotch, slowly rubbing around and poised for any further indulgence. Her hands are, on the other hand, hectic with your buttons and when they’re done they swiftly go down to your belt. Your pants drop to your ankles in no time with your underwear, and with your erect cock emancipated, Jimin detaches from the kiss and spits on your cock and spreads it.
It all happens so fast that you are still enraptured by the kiss and her tits in your palms, leaving so many treats unfelt to your body. The next second you are inside her, making it even headier for you to follow up.
“Fuck, I needed this.” Jimin grits. With no clue of downshifting she takes the shirt off, her bra to follow suit, and hooks her arms around your neck to stand the frantic sex she wants from you. And that happens right away, as your instinct drops the hammer for you to automatically thrust into her even before you find yourself moaning at the sensation of her inside.
You keep your eyes closed while wrecking her pussy despite the eye candy that is Yoo Jimin during sex, and suddenly you notice her teeth on your shoulder. It’s a pain that can make you grin, that can make you savor the feeling, even it gets even stronger, because now you know that when she bites, she cums. Her legs give in, and you know it by the weight of her arms around your neck. Her walls clench harshly and there’s a stream of her juice down your legs when she cums. Yoo Jimin is so tactile, and when she cums her whole body does, for yours to recognize, you don’t even have to hearken to know it. The auditory input hits your brain the last, the pearly, shaky yelp of the orgasming needy girl adds up to all the stimuli you are taking.
When she comes down you slow down, lazily reaching her cervix as she hums at it every time.
“Kiss me, baby.” You do. It’s saccharine to your tongue. Her tongue distraughtly moves around inside your mouth, some of the drool leaking onto her tits to make it even more impeccable. The gustation mesmerizes you into a rabid sex, this time for yourself to get off. No subduing, only upshifts lead the way as you turn her around, put it back in and lavish thrusts into her sex.
“Shit. Jimin, you’re so fucking perfect.” You’re not saying this again because she might not have heard it; you are repeating it like a low-functioning machine because you’re afraid you haven’t said it enough. And she can condone it—of course she can, it’s a compliment anyway—because she knows it already, because the feeling’s mutual. You say it several more times on the back of her neck, almost making it a tattoo, carving it in intaglio. Still deranged, Jimin is just screaming with her back arching to the sky and carotically facing the brick wall with her left cheek. The right side of her face is rosed up, and her eye has a glimpse of you, your wry face and the sweat-coated torso and shuts and she cums just like that. 
Her breaths are shallow, irregular, a gusty fluid squelches out of her pussy and the scene of her orgasm is intimidating your endurance, easily sending you to an orgasmic stupor and making you spurt out inside her with a gritted groan. 
“Jimin, I… God, fuck…!” To your overstimulated cock Jimin has her shrewd tongue on it, sealed with her lips. Makes your legs wobble, unmercifully agitating your mind with frenzy, but just until she clears your shaft up clean from the tabloid juices all over it.
“I loved it. Maybe we should make it daily.” Jimin rises up, with her skirt and your shirt in her hands and still breathing somewhat heavily. And the desecrated smile on her face is the coercion for you to wear one too, a copacetic one. Shirt on, a smoking cigarette between your fingers, you insinuate to her.
“Your panties are still on my bed, you know.” And she’s shrewd with it—has been from the very beginning—and purrs. “Mhmm, I’m going to go fetch it after school with you.”
Of course, is what your nods that follows says, and there’s my girl, says your zest-filled grin, looking at her back that walks out of the corner. It’s always that intrinsic sass you could simply, so simply kill for. Maybe a challenge for you, maybe a finesse for you to be benumbly trapped into. It’s your choice, and from some point on the latter looks dazzling to you; maybe you’re a person who just dyes so well, to a derogated girl who seemed to have taken everything you’ve given but turns out she just put you in the phantasma of her own stardust without you realizing it—you’ve lost it in her, somehow. And that’s bizarre: and you love it.
******
You’re standing at the bus stop, hands in your pocket and looking around to find your girl. When you do, you’re so surprised at how Jimin so stands out among all the crowd while doing nothing but just walk. Even from miles out you’re sure you’ll spot her in a second. The belle of the crowd, wherever she is. She’s not the tallest but still piques herself on her to-die-for aura like she blurs everyone out. As if she sensed the scrutiny, Jimin looks up from her phone, looks around and soon finds you looking at her. You hate to be seen so infatuated like this but you can’t help it, as your eyes meet hers and your face brightens up, half from seeing her and half at yourself caught like that.
“That happy to see me?” You don’t answer, just bring your hands to her crotch and check there’s no underwear blocking your way. A flick over her uncovered pussy earns you a shocked look.
“This is not your bedroom!” Jimin shouts in whisper, but not with caution, but an intrigued grin with eyes darting around the crowd waiting for the bus.
“Are you telling me to stop?” You take your fingers to her mouth, her tongue welcoming the taste of horniness coated all over your fingers. “I’m telling you not to stop.”
So your hand returns to her pussy. You’re rubbing, tapping on and hooking your fingers in, Jimin bites on her own fingers not to relinquish her scream. You hold her trembling body as steady as possible but you know that it’ll be absolutely normal if the people around you realize that you two are having a little fun explicitly in public. Everyone’s looking at you and Jimin in front of you, facing the same way as you and receiving that dirty fingering amongst so many audiences.
In a few minutes the bus is here, to show you only one vacant seat left. You take the seat and Jimin sits on your lap, facing backwards and hugging your neck. You resume the unholy yet entertaining fingering to the pretty moaning girl on your lap.
And you return to who you really are: you’re a gentleman yourself, with etiquette, with common decency, to pull Jimin’s head down on your shoulder to muffle her nasty sound on it. You know even the driver is looking at you through the mirror, but that’s because of her, not you; again, you’re making no noise, and Jimin in your embrace is the culprit of all the squeaky, watery, moaning noise, not you. 
“Quiet, Jimin.” Now her teeth dig into your skin, synchronizing with your fingers indulging into her wet, tight hole. You know what you’re doing won’t shut her up. You’re just saying it, a formality. Inside your mind you want her to moan loudly, at the same time want to see her struggle keeping it quiet. So you yank her hair back to watch her distorted face, observe every tiny wriggle of her expression.
“Ah…!” Look into her eyes as if wanting to pierce through them. Jimin looks at you too, flooding with lust, drowning in her own sensations of sex and embarrassment of being exposed in such a public situation. “I’m almost there.” It’s a plain text but she’s begging there. She says she’s almost there but she’s already there, as it seems.
“Yeah, we’re almost there.” A bump on the road makes your fingers hit her spot, makes her back arc, makes her almost, almost lose it right there. You pull out your fingers from her hot cavern to the relatively cool air of the bus. Her liquid feels fresh out in the air but that feeling is soon lost, by her tongue wrapping them up and sucking it clean—suckling it dirty.
The bus stops right then for only you and Jimin to get off. It’s much quieter than inside the bus, partially due to you not fingerfucking her anymore. In no time you’re at the door of your house, unlock it, swing open and it slams shut. Simultaneously Jimin hops on you and dive into your mouth with hers. You stumble through to your bedroom, toss her on the bed, swiftly undo your belt and pants with your boxers, let your already hard dick spring out but don't let it feel the air as it vanishes into Jimin’s waiting pussy right away.
No one speaks a word. No one can, to be fair. You two are merely inches away from dying, too impatient to wait another second. And there you let Jimin approach death a bit closer by holding her neck around, a perfect necklace for her, and straining your hand. Jimin’s mouth is open, difficulty in breathing so visible, face reddening but there’s still her hunger in it; she grins. Her smile is so cruel, violent, so evil yet joyful, as if she’s the victimizer and you’re the victim.
“Please, baby… Kill me. Fucking choke me to death, please, choke me and kill me-fuck!” You make her scream when you slap her tits, as if you were angry at her, but you’re the opposite—you love her so much that you just want to abuse her, to her liking, just like right now. All her sensations seem to evaporate as her eyes roll back and her hands drop to her sides spiritlessly: or, airlessly. You let her go, not wanting to actually kill her.
With a giant inhale Jimin returns from the border of unconsciousness. Her hands travel from her own tits, your hands, and soon back to the sheets, still wandering in need for anything to release the tension. So you pin down her wrists and pace up your thrusts.
“Fuck, Jimin. Don’t tempt me. You make me really want to fuck you dead.” You’re saying it right on her face, which enables her to feel that you mean it. There she tries to kiss your lips, but you pull back with agility, instead covering her mouth and nose with your palm, again suffocating her to your liking, to your loving, to your abnormal, psychopathic obsession.
“I want to see you struggle for life. I want to see you beg for life. You’ll look so perfect like that.” Jimin screams into your hand, covers it with her saliva and tears. You close in with your other hand groping her tit and your cock hitting everywhere inside her squeezing cunt. Jimin’s eyes widen as her orgasm fades in, muffling “I’m cumming!” Several times on your palm before peaking like never before. Her orgasm never gives her the time to even shut her eyes as they roll into her head. Her scream penetrates your hand over her mouth as it departs on your ears so deliciously.
That’s what psychopaths do, isn’t it? To experience the catharsis washing over your spine and get off with how a person screams, all helpless, with tears, shallow breaths as if soon going to die, or at least pass out. Maybe it’s that she’s making it clear about who you are. Would be a pleasure to embrace it.
And it’s your turn now. You pull out, escaping Jimin’s spent pussy with quite an amount of her squirt, leaving her all trembling and arching. There’s a layer of sweat all over her body and it makes it look like a scene from any pornography. Jimin doesn’t move a bit-only her chest is heavily healing up and down, even after you flip her upside down.
You tease her asshole with your middle finger and when she senses it enter she helps you by spreading her cheeks for deeper insertion. No resistance in and out of her ass. Every curl inside her ass makes Jimin squeeze her own cheeks as a response with a powerless moan. “Mmm, fuck me please… I’m not done yet.” Of course. You grin and prepare your cock for the second entrance as you pull Jimin up on all fours. Her arms give up when you rub your glistening cock on her pussy lips. And her reason gives up when you penetrate her rear hole.
“Ahh-fuck yes!”
“Holy fuck. This is so tight.” Her tightness erases your patience to savor it slowly. You start ruining her ass with the intention of actually destroying it. Jimin frowns, loud moan seeping through the bitten lip, hands curling into fists but arms all powerless on her sides.
“It’s so good, it’s so fucking good…! Don’t stop it baby. Make me cum like a fucking whore…!” Her voice can’t even get louder when her words just melt on the mattress just like her. Her words turn to nothings, eyes squeeze shut, concentrating all her senses to where she’s getting fucked. You feel your eyelids become heavier every single thrust, but the visual pleasure is just too good to give up watching it-her ass up for you to fuck it senseless, narrow waist contrasting her wide hips so aesthetically. The cherry on top is the expressions on her gorgeous face which you can’t quite read. Just like when all colors mixed makes pitch-black, her facial wrinkles and twitches are the perfect mixture of all pleasure, ecstasy that you can’t tell what she’s feeling at this moment.
“Nngh!” Actually, you can. Jimin is orgasming so hard, clear—dirty—liquid pumping out of her empty pussy to flood the mattress. Her ass squeezes your cock too hard for you to move in and out as fast as before without blasting every drop in her climaxing ass hole.
So you park it deep in her contracting hole, stay there, and shut Jimin’s moaning mouth with yours. She doesn’t care—or she doesn't acknowledge—and keeps screaming for her life even after her peak has washed over. A few dozen seconds pass, she calms down to at least breathe regularly when you stand your torso up to resume the session.
“You… You have to cum…” As if she even cares for you instead of her own pleasure. You know she just wants more overwhelming orgasm only you can deliver, and you are no different. There’s something about this body, these tits, the voice, this face, this pussy, this ass; there really is something about Yoo Jimin. Without your knowledge you are humping her like a villain, mad, but with a grin that’s so dangerous that Jimin mirrors. Your hand already made itself home around her neck, a red mark of it pressing hard inevitable, tears rolling down along her side face.
“I’m going to fill you up, Jimin.” And with a sharp inhale you begin wrecking her inside. A gut-rearranging pounding is what her perfect ass deserves and she can’t even open her eyes properly-either one stays closed against her will, rolling up to see that there’s nothing inside her head.
“Fuck! Please, please, please, please… Gah, I’m- Again…!” How impatient. There’s not even a point for you to call a flaw. Immoral, impatient, vulgar, dirty… She’s all too perfect. And you’re sure that’s why you cum so hard, like never before.
A nasty pair of voices fill each other’s brain as you two cum. You lower your body, forehead on hers and eyes on hers, looking through those teary orbs as you feel yourself bursting out gregariously. No words but loud pants bridge your sensations to each other, and until the last spurt you don’t even blink in order to see Jimin go through her own orgasm.
That’s it; it’s been your undesirable sadistic desire that kept you on fire, and when you have saturated it it flips out of your head, making it empty—there hasn’t been anything other than that. When you’re done completely you let Jimin go from your glare, sit on the edge next to her gasping body. Your urge is swept off so cleanly, and you can see how dirty it was by the mess on your bed.
“Are you alright?” You ask, but looking up at the ceiling, not Jimin. You don’t turn your head but can already sense her looking at you. “You’re just so perfect.” Selfishly she doesn’t answer. And you hear the smirk in her words. You make one on your face too, hearing that, stand up, face her and find Jimin overloading your vision with how she gorgeously lies down there, making even all the nasty things complement her perfection.
“I’ll shower. Just don’t fall asleep on the bed. It’s dirty.” You tell Jimin, all helpless and powerless on the bed and panting like she just had the best sex in her life. The lustful girl who was begging for you to kill her is nowhere to be found; instead there’s a weak, short of breath, vulnerable and lithe angelic devil with your cum gushing out of her ass. As if a few more touches and she’d actually evaporate.
In the shower you barely feel the water on your body, so distracted by your own thoughts—your own thoughts but in the grabs of Yu Jimin. The exact same as yesterday, you are showering yourself with your shocked, strange feelings in the shower after sex that simply blew your mind.
It's just that she's too good. Too good to call it a hook-up, too good to make it only an occasional sex. The way she craves your cock, the way she begs for your violence, the way she’s so desperate for extreme orgasms under your hold. It’s the first time for you to smile just by thinking of a girl, especially when you’re such a harsh and rough type of a person even you’d admit. She’d let you hit her. She’d let you choke her, let you fuck her, destroy her—let you love her.
Then the door opens, a small, pale figure of female comes in, walks slowly through the mist of the hot water. Jimin stops in front of you, legs barely holding there, face buried on your chest and her arms locked around your neck to support her lithe body but they barely do. You move a little backward to let her more of the hot water.
As if all the water got into your veins, you feel your heart burn. Just look at her—legs all wobbly, barely standing, too exhausted to even look up at you, her hands at the back of your neck irregularly stroking the back of your head as if signaling she’s at least perceiving things properly. You put a hand on her back and spread the water on it, and that’s when she lifts her head and meets your eyes. 
Weak and lethargic like a candlelight in front of a tsunami, Jimin is barely standing there with low moans whenever her legs wobble and give up. Her arms tighten around your neck as one of yours hug her back so that she doesn’t collapse. Her face is right beneath yours, tilted up to face yours. Those eyes can’t avoid looking at your lips, which is just what you’re doing to her unashamedly.
Your hand climbs up to the back of her head. Regardless of that you and Jimin are exchanging such a strong yet soft, intense yet loving eyelock. It is an atypically genial moment and if you look back at this moment you might throttle yourself. She should know it by now, from the visible, audible changes on you. 
(Maybe you were afraid. Or beyond that. Love was what your fears were afraid of. Doesn’t quite make sense to say that you have fears, but anyways, you didn’t want, nor expect a couple nights to escalate to an actual romance.)
Minutes pass, and pass, and—and pause, when you pull her a bit into your arms and make a soundless, yet seismic kiss. Lips lock. Two pairs of lips open and a pair of tongues make contact, hug each other just like you two. Her hands snake into your hair, your head in her hands and deeper into the kiss. You two have even forgotten to breathe as the liplock continues for what feels like a lifetime, to complete the kiss of your life. When you try to pull back Jimin lunges a bit forward not to break the kiss, and you let your system suffocate a few dozen seconds more. 
“You’re so beautiful, Yu Jimin.” You finally tell her this. Not the literal confession of love but she gets it with the bewitching smile she always wears like nothing. Never been in love, you feel like you’re sent back to childhood, pure and intact, but that feeling is shattered into pieces when her hand finds your hardened cock poking at her belly.“Is that why you’re so hard, baby?” This time, the word ‘baby’ sounds so right with a lip bite of your lover and with a lust-filled grin on you. Her thumb slides on the underside of the tip, almost making you stumble back.
“Yes. Just like you’re always horny because of me.”  With a smirk you turn her around, bend her over so that her hands are on the wall, and put your cock in in one stroke. Jimin helplessly loses all the strength in her legs and falls but you're prudential enough not to let her. It's to the point where she's just hanging from your arms when you kindle the movement. Her skin looks even more satin with the water so you collar her and go on. You can't stop when the biggest impetus is jonesing for it. No choice but to harden the grip on her throat.
Jimin is flaccid on the wall, fingers fumbling on and desperately digging themselves on it with her head facing down. You are never going to unbind her until she falls into a stupor. “Baby I… I fucking love it so deep…! Use me just like that…” She can't let it out loud and soon loses all voice, raises her head, brings yours right beside hers and kisses you. And a feeling that this is the requital for your disclosure makes it compulsory to reciprocate it poignantly. Her hand guides one of yours to her tits, pushes it hard on it to make you squeeze them and soon the convulsions agitate through her body. Her orgasmic screams reverberate through your throat, which is also moaning out of the pleasure congesting your mind. 
When the kiss breaks her yelps stifle the smacking and squelching. You have no idea if it’s your heartiness or just overstimulation from before the shower, but her voice sounds so giddy she might just hit the floor all limp. The burgeoning pleasure conglomerates into a derogated vertigo, the unbearable sensations stack up in your spines and Jimin’s wringing walls really doesn’t help you push it down. Her eyes tell you—because her mouth can’t right now—she’s only a couple thrusts away from coming undone, tantamount to what’s threatening to blow your mind, break down your nerves.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming…!” A tautology that is so understandable. You help her, add to the pleasure by choking her. Her moans permeate to your hand through her throat and the foul secretion of her orgasm flows down her legs with the water pelting down on your bodies. Jimin fumbles on the wall with her fingers, too herring-gutted to digest the deray.
“Jimin. Yu Jimin. I’m coming too-fuck…!” When Jimin hears her name she hums, and when she feels the warmth coat her walls she buckles, arches her back to beckon your lips and jockeys her tongue between them. In less than a minute however she pulls back, due to lack of air, because of your chokehold, and pants in your face, with a pejorative smile, but no sign of mannerism—you all know, that smile that follows after an exquisite sex—her sheer feelings carved in it, and you willingly mirror it as a beck of mutuality.
******
A rather huge thing is settled. Sitting on the edge of the bed together, with a cigarette between your fingers for each, you recount your history: the reason you moved, your personality, your sex life being like this. All of them, however, converge to her, Yu Jimin, weirdly enough for you who just can’t concede any feelings involved, which sounds like a monolithic psychopath which actually might be who you are.
Well, a little bit of romance couldn’t kill, could it? You think, lying next to Jimin and slowly closing your eyes to fall-
“You haven’t said it yet.”
“Say what?”
“You only said I’m beautiful.”
“And?”
“I know there’s something more. You know there’s something more.”
There you fail to hold out the chuckle.
“I don’t know what you’re-“
“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be shy about it,”
Jimin mischievously giggles. You know you can’t just laugh it off, and you won’t. That intricate feeling that tickles, but is not transient.
With a somnolent voice, you placidly say, like a tagline of a tragedy—or a comedy.
“Love you, Jimin.”
Her grin infiltrates her words hearing it.
“That’s it, my boy. Love you too.”
******
761 notes · View notes
love-belle · 9 months
Text
i loved you so hard for a time !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which everyone thinks that they're done for good but it's quite the opposite.
or
for when your love is just out of this world. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
social media au // daniel ricciardo x fem!reader
prequel - used to love you ⋆·˚ ༘ *
warnings - language
author's note - tagging everyone that asked for part ii @lorarri @mirrorball-6 @willowpains @fluffyspaceprincess @twobluejeans @urmooniee @electrobutterfly @dakotali @ushygushybaby @sinofwriting hope you like this!!! thank you so much for reading, i love you <3
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yourusername here's another song lol
18,626 comments
username MOTHER WHAT
username GOODBYE I CAN'T DO THIS
username U CAN'T JUST DROP THAT OUT OF NOWHERE
username HELP THE BREAK UP ALLEGATIONS JUST KEEP GROWING
carmenmmundt such a heartbreaking song but beautiful nonetheless!!! loved this so much 🤍🤍🤍
-> yourusername stop thank you so much ilyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭
username DON'T THINK WE'RE ABOVE MIGHT HAPPEN TO US
username did she.........indirectly..........confirm it?????????
username ahahahahahah!!!!! im fine!!!!!!! toTAllY fiNE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
landonorris slayed the house down 😝
-> yourusername ur spending too much time on tiktok
username help haha im crying so hard haha
username was this necessary lol
username AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
username goodnight.
carlossainz55 on repeat 🔁
*liked by yourusername*
username IM CRYING WHATCGENNCUCJ
username i need daniel to comment like my life depends on it bc it DOES
username im a child of divorce 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
username tears are rolling down my cheeks
francisca.cgomes ❤️❤️❤️
*liked by yourusername*
username IT'S 7AM I CANNOT DO THIS
username mother i am not strong enough for this
username daniel and her 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
selenagomez heartbreakingly beautiful 🤍
*liked by yourusername*
username this is my 13th reason ahahahah!!!!!
username alr.
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danielricciardo we're just two people.
9,628 comments
username GOODNIGHT.
username im so lost rn
username bitches wouldn't be in this situation if they just communicated instead of talking to each other through captions (daniel and y/n are bitches)
username daniel in his grovelling era ???????
landonorris 👍
-> danielricciardo 🙂
-> username LANDO WHAT DO U KNOW
-> username king spill the tea
username im honestly out of words rn
username from "i think we'll work bc she's just the better half of me like all of my best parts are of her and she just balances me out and we'll make it till forever, i'm sure of it" to "don't think we're above might happen to us"
-> username shaking in my boots rn
username AHSBDBDNHDBEJSJAJSNDKSN
maxverstappen1 right
*liked by danielricciardo*
username the grid knows something i SWEAR
username i was doing just FINE but then i saw an edit of daniel and y/n with mr loverman and im now RUINED
username dad please talk to mom she's in her sad songs era again 🙏🙏🙏
username god keep testing me and you'll be seeing me soon 🥰
username y/n and daniel are just being silly! don't worry guys 😂😂😂
-> username riiiiiight it's just a big prank 🤣🤣🤣
username no more daniel saying "my girl" 💔💔💔
-> username NO MORE Y/N SAYING "MY BITCH MY LOVE MY BF MY LOVE"
username shut up everybody they're not allowed to break up ahahahahahaha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
username "this award is for daniel, my forever kinda person, sorry i called u a dumb asshole when we first met. i didn't lie but still, just kidding — not really but thank u for being my muse for the past few years, it's been incredible, an amazing journey, full of love and life, loving u, being loved BY u, so thank u. here's to our forever"
-> username "this win is for y/n, the mean girl i pulled by being even meaner to her. nah, not really she's very sweet, she will call u a dumb bitch though. i love her"
username here's me logging off and going to that river in egypt. take care y'all
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paddock.club break-up confirmed for ricciardo and y/l/n? fans believe that daniel and y/n are over for good as the formula one driver was seen leaving the singer's hometown — without her. rumours have been flying ever seen y/n released two songs and fans reckon they're about daniel and their break-up. the couple dated for more than five years and their supporters are devasted by their potential split. numerous sources have also claimed that the couple "decided that it was for the best" and "they were just at different points of their lives". for more details about the pair, head to our bio and click on the link.
4,527 comments
username hahahahahahaha say sike rn
username oh!
username idk man how can u just "decide that it was for the best" after being together with someone for HALF A DECADE
username im so 💔💔💔💔💔
username they were so good together
username no bc them being at "different points in their lives" is straight up bullshit bc HAVE U SEEN THEM TOGETHER??????
-> username RIGHT????
-> username they would marry eachother every week if it was possible i can just tell
username y/n did not say "he makes my mind go like 'forever would be pretty cool with u' so obviously, im very lucky to have that kinda love in my life" for y'all to write this
username source???? trust me bro
username just wanna know who the sources are
-> username we'll be nice i swear
username i miss my parents 🫤🫤🫤
username so ur telling me that we may never get daniel at one of y/n's concerts ever again or see her smile at him standing in crowd and point to him while singing the songs she wrote for him???????? alr.
username im RUINED bc of this wtf
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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by yourusername, landonorris, lilymhe and 2,528,926 other
danielricciardo she's not my girlfriend anymore
tagged yourusername
16,528 comments
username FUCK U BOTH I HATE U WHATCTRB CYCJ
username OH
username OH MY GOD
username i am not ok
carlossainz55 finally!!! i was scared lando would end up spoiling it
-> landonorris fuck you
-> danielricciardo had to keep him out of the country
username OH MY GOD
username IM SO?????? THIS IS??????? NO WORDS.
username oh they played us BAD
username us rn 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡
lewishamilton the happiest for you both 🤍🤍🤍
*liked by danielricciardo*
username THEM ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username all the y/n critics so quiet rn cuz girl really had us believing they broke up bc she wrote a sad song
-> username no bc she gagged the haters good
username THE CAPTION THE PHOTOS THE EVERYTHING
username this is my villian origin story
username the sigh of relief that just left my soul
username this was NOT cute do NOT do it again i was FIGHTING for my life (i love them sm they're my parents im gonna cry in a corner now)
username daniel saw twitter dragging him and decided to break the internet
-> username bro said let me show u something real quick and i respect him sm for that
-> username i know who my 🐐 is
landonorris happiest for you, mate!!! i better be the best man
-> maxverstappen1 what
-> danielricciardo battle it out idk
username THEIR WEDDING IS GONNA SO W I CAN ALREADY TELL
username this is historical
yourusername this is a terrible way of telling people we're engaged
-> danielricciardo you wanted to wait till we were married and then post a selfie with the caption "we're married bitches"
-> yourusername still think we should take this down and do that
-> danielricciardo y/n no
yourusername ahahahaha fiancé i love you ❤️
-> danielricciardo i love you so much mrs. ricciardo ❤️
username they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username WE SURVIVED THE GREAT WAR
username this is everything to me
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liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, carmenmmundt and 3,917,528 others
yourusername i swear i couldn't love you more than i do right now and yet i know i will tomorrow. this love is everything to me, you are everything to me and i know i've said it a hundred times before, but thank you. thank you so much for making me feel like daylight and thank you for being my biggest supporter through everything. i cannot wait to slow dance with you in our kitchen at 4am and do the dishes with you while music plays in the background, i cannot wait to introduce you to people as 'my husband' and i cannot wait to come home to you everyday for the rest of my life. and most of all, i cannot wait to begin this life with you, full of love, happiness, old and new memories, songs and blessings. i love you, forever and then a day after that.
tagged danielricciardo
19,738 comments
username WHAT THR FYCK EHATCTHR FUCK WHATCTHR FUCK EHATCTHR FUCK
username IM GONNA THROW UP WJAT TBE FYCK
username GOODBYE.
username the caption.
carmenmmundt love you both so much 🤍 wishing you a lifetime of happiness!!!
-> yourusername carmennnn ❤️❤️❤️ we love you so much
username "i cannot wait to introduce you to people as 'my husband' and i cannot wait to come home to you everyday for the rest of my life" NO ONE'S DOING IT LIKE THEM
username hahahahaha im SO normal about this hahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
username they're so precious to me ❤️❤️❤️
username her songwriting is really THAT good that we believed they broke up huh
username MOTHER AND FATHER
landonorris daniel is crying btw x
-> yourusername OH MY GOD
-> danielricciardo I'M NOT IT'S ALLERGIES
username no bc i would SCREAM if someone wrote that for me
username the difference in their captions is SENDING me
username no bc u cannot believe they're engaged like 😭😭😭😭😭
-> username nah fr i feel like we watched them grow up
charles_leclerc happy this news is out, not happy about you both stealing my car. please give it back.
-> yourusername about that...
-> charles_leclerc WHAT
-> yourusername i am a motherfucker
-> danielricciardo she forgot your car at the hotel in a whole another city
-> username HOW DO U FORGET A WHOLE ANOTHER CAR
-> yourusername SHIT HAPPENS
username THE CAPTION BRO THE CAPTION
danielricciardo wait now i feel kinda stupid about my caption
-> yourusername it's okay baby i can be poetic enough for both of us
danielricciardo i love you so much
-> yourusername i love you so much more
danielricciardo also i am stuck outside on the balcony let me in please
-> yourusername how the fuck
-> danielricciardo lily threatened to cut off my balls one by one if i hurt you so i had to run and hide
-> lilymhe and i will do it again
-> yourusername i love you lilymhe
-> danielricciardo and right in front of me.....
username "i swear i couldn't love you more than i do right now and yet i know i will tomorrow" can u hear me crying,
username can't believe i ever thought that these bitches broke up 💔💔💔💔💔💔
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frail-and-freakish · 1 year
Text
today, april 11th, is the anniversary of Mel Baggs' death. Mel Baggs was one of the early founders of the neurodiversity movement and believed that no one was too disabled for human rights, something that modern nd movements fail to understand to this day. sie was so instrumental to my understanding of literally everything. sie died from medical ableism and neglect during the beginning of the pandemic. we would be nowhere fucking near where we are now without hir. i've decided to make a masterlist of some of my favorite posts of hirs, organized into different categories.
(some of these are listed in more than one category because they overlap so much)
here are some of the "essentials" (what you might have already read by hir/should read first):
hir memorial site hosted by ASAN:
In My Language
the oak manifesto
There is ableism at the heart of your oppression, no matter what your oppression might be
Getting The Truth Out (many pages, parody of bad autism awareness campaign called "getting the word out")
the meaning of self-advocacy
what makes institutions bad
aspie supremacy can kill
here are some of hir beautiful writings on perceiving/communicating with hir environment as an autistic person, and on communication in general:
up in the clouds and down in the valley: my richness and yours
distance underthought
the naked mechanisms of echolalia
empty mirrors and redwoods
the fireworks are interesting
hir tumblr tag #sensing (@withasmoothroundstone)
on personhood and who has the authority to take it away:
being an unperson
what it means to be real
empty mirrors and redwoods
on institutions and the I/DD service system:
caregiver abuse takes many forms
"i don't know that person's program"
what my home means to me
dd service system tag
god help the critic of the dawn: glamour and its fallout
what makes institutions bad
post on the JRC
outposts in our heads
on online social justice communities/their inaccessibility:
Your politics have a problem when they contradict the real-life experiences of the people they're supposed to be about.
politics, ethics and mental widgets
hir tumblr tags #outside the wall and #little packages (@withasmoothroundstone)
misc:
The Bones My Family Gave Me
Please violate only one stereotype at a time
My sort of people, just as real as theirs.
Reviving the concept of cousins
gender tag
this is hir poems and creative works:
this is hir writing on autistics.org:
may hir memory be a blessing/revolution.
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talaok · 6 months
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I love your writing! And because of that, I thought of something that I would like you to create for us, the reader and Pedro are dating. they have been separated for a few months due to recording some of Pedro's projects, in the middle of these recordings he gave some interviews and in one of them the interviewer flirted with him, and he kindly(?) and habitually flirted back, the reader is now leaving the airport and arriving at the hotel where they would meet and her cell phone keeps beeping with fans (and nasty people) who are tagging her in the flirty part of the interview... she arrives at the hotel and confronts him, this is a little anguish? I leave the ending in your hands, thank you for your incredible stories!
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader
a/n: thank you for reading them, babe!💗💗
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"hi sweetheart" he smiled, as soon as you opened the door, wrapping his arms around you "I've missed you so much"
You had to take a deep breath to not tell him to fuck off right there and then.
Look at him, acting so sweet and kind while your phone was blowing up with clips of him flirting with another woman.
The perfect fucking boyfriend no?
"Hi daddy" and although the word would have usually sounded hot and sexy, you made sure it was traced with as much annoyance as possible.
"Uhm... ok?" he frowned, leaning away.
"What? You seemed to like it so much when Lidia said it" You shrugged, walking in and dropping your baggage at the door "You don't like it as much when it's your girlfriend saying it?"
He closed the door and leaned his back on it as he tried to understand what was going on.
Everything was fine when he talked to you this morning, what could have changed in only a few hours?
"I'm- I'm sorry, who's Lidia?"
You shot him a look, looking just as done as you were feeling.
"Don't play dumb Pedro, you know very well who she is"
He looked around the room as if a clue on what to say would just appear any minute.
"sugar, what are you talking about?"
"oh my god," you sighed "the interviewer, Pedro!"
"the interviewer? What interviewer?"
"You gotta be kidding me" you exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose "The one you spent a full ten minutes flirting with yesterday!"
And at that, his eyes widened in realization and puzzlement combined.
"Flirting? I wasn't flirting" he said, walking toward you 
"No? So you go around calling mama every woman you see?" you asked, "You tell every woman they're beautiful and that their dress looks really good on them? Is that it?"
"No baby, but-"
"but what?" you cut him off "How would you feel if I did that? If I flirted with the men who interview me huh?"
"That's different I-"
"Oh fuck off" you muttered, turning away from him. You couldn't stand the sight of him anymore.
"Baby, it's part of the job!" he burst 
Your hands curled into fists at your sides as you turned back around.
"Flirting is part of the job!?"
"No- you know what I mean, I have this whole persona online, and I..." he sighed not really knowing what to say
"That's not a good enough excuse" you spoke "Just 'cause people expect certain things from you doesn't mean you should do them. I told you I was fine with the whole daddy thing, but now you go around calling people mama? that's a bit much, don't you think?" you said "And I don't know... I didn't like how you were talking and looking at her, it didn't make me feel good ok?"
He swallowed, taking in your words "Ok, I-I'm sorry, really, but I was just being polite, it didn't mean anything"
You only needed to shoot him a look to make him rethink his choice of words.
"No, you're right." he cleared his throat "I went too far, I-I won't do it again, I promise" he spoke more softly now, as one of his hands reached your cheek to stroke it "I'm sorry baby, please forgive me"
You looked up at him, biting the inside of your cheek as you decided what to do.
"It didn't mean anything?" you asked
"No, of course not baby, I love you, I only have eyes for you, you know that"
"I know..." you bit your bottom lip "It's just that she... well she was really pretty"
A soft smile pulled at his lips 
"And you're the most beautiful woman in the universe" he promised, "so what?"
A shy blush crept up your cheeks as your lips involuntarily twitched into a smile.
"Ok" you nodded, as his other hand settled onto your waist
"Ok?" he smiled, hopeful "You're not mad anymore?"
"nope" you shook your head
A smile from ear to ear spread on his lips
"oh thank god" he breathed "'cause I've missed kissing you so fucking much, sweetheart"
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urfavoritegirlkisser · 3 months
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ooh for hazel maybe a fic where hazel is fully oblivious to the fact that reader likes her and misses their very obvious flirting until someone makes a joke about the two of them
idk i feel like that’s something she would do lmao
Oh for sure, she is definitely very oblivious when it comes to someone flirting with her
Tags: Fem!Reader, Hazel is so oblivious, swearing, a smidge of angst and insecure!reader, use of y/n, slightly suggestive at the end but it's no big deal honestly, lightly proof read, girls kissing (giggling and kicking my feet)
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"Friends Don't Look At Friends That Way" - Hazel Callahan x Reader
“Maybe we could go hang out at your place? You could help me study for Mr.G’s final” You say, lightly grazing your fingertips on Hazel’s arm while batting your eyelashes up at her.
“Didn’t he literally give us the test answers as a study guide?” Hazel says, oblivious to your flirtation as always.
This was the billionth time it feels like that Hazel has shut you down, and honestly, you’re sick of it.
You decide to try a different tactic, gently grabbing her hand and admiring her rings, “I just love your rings” you rub your thumb across them and let your other hand rest on her thigh.
“Thanks! Most of them were gifts from friends, and this one was from a cool thrift shop downtown” Hazel rambles on while you sigh as she continues to ignore your obvious attempts at flirting with her.
You genuinely thought all hope was lost…until you heard PJ shout from across the gym.
“Jesus! Get a room you two, have some decency for the rest of us and go fuck in the janitor’s closet!” the girl shouts and your face heats up as a deep blush settles over your cheeks
Hazel scoffs, “What? We’re just friends PJ, don’t be a loser” she says while laughing nervously.
It took all of your willpower not to crumble right then and there.
You’ve had enough of this, you weren’t going to put in all this effort for someone who just sees you as a friend. Sniffling as tears start to form in your eyes from embarrassment, you quickly excuse yourself and practically run out of the gymnasium.
Your feet carry you to an abandoned classroom, where you let yourself finally let out the sobs you were holding in. Of course Hazel didn’t feel the same, why would she? She was amazing in every way and you were just some loser.
You’re so consumed in your thoughts that you don’t hear the door crack open and Hazel slowly walk inside.
“Y/n? Are you alright?” she says in a near whisper, but it still makes you jump and quickly look up at Hazel while wiping your tears.
“Hazel, what are you doing here? The club meeting is about to start, you know how PJ is with people being late” you try to speak in a confident voice, but it comes out shaky and thick from the lump of emotions in your throat and you look away from her so she can’t see your tears.
Hazel shakes her head and sits down beside you, “You’re more important than a stupid meeting” she says softly, “Josie told me about your feelings for me”
You groan at her words and put your head on your knees, looking back at her with a sniffle, “I’m so sorry Hazel, I get it if you don’t feel the same way and I won’t blame you-” your words are cut off by Hazel grabbing your face and hurriedly pressing her lips to yours in a bruising kiss.
You shriek in surprise at first, but quickly kiss back, shuddering as you feel her tongue enter your mouth.
Hazel pulls you onto her lap, your fingers threading into her soft hair as her hands rest on your hips. You both pull away after a moment, pupils blown, breaths heavy as the both of you just stare at each other for a moment.
Hazel is the first to speak up, “I’ve actually wanted to do that since the first time I saw you” she says breathlessly while moving a hand up to cradle your jaw and gently stroke your face with her thumb, “You are so beautiful y/n, I would be lucky to be able to call you mine” she says with a smile that makes your heart melt
“And I’m sorry for being such an idiot” she quickly adds which makes you laugh
You kiss her softly, pulling away just enough so your foreheads touch and you can just live in this tiny moment the both of you have created.
“As long as I can call you my idiot, then that’s all that matters” you say before the both of you dissolve into giggles.
an - meant to post more today, but got hit with a wicked migraine, so I hoped you enjoyed. Go drink water you girl kissers.
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smolvenger · 11 months
Text
The King of Asgard (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)
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Synopsis: As the wife of Prince Loki of Asgard, you suddenly discover that Odin and Thor are gone. You are made queen and your dear husband is king. But a king needs an heir...
Word Count: 5K
Warnings: SMUT Y'ALL!!! 18+ Breeding Kink and Vanilla P in V sex and dirty talk. Some angst in the beginning but lots of hurt/comfort regarding his discovery about being a Frost Giant. Some married fluff. I use the canon events in Thor 1 but stretch out the timeline because it's my fic and I can do what I want. References to fairy tales because I'm a slut for literary references.
A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad
A/N: Since seeing Thor 1 in its completion this has been in my head. I don't usually write for the big man Loki himself too often- but it's a treat to do so! Maybe I will do more of this stuff if I get more ideas! REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED! Also, I don't know if Frigga is also Freya the goddess of love and sex in this universe when I wrote this but her character is clearly more FRIGGA than Freya...so yeah...mea culpa
Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @littlespaceyelf @superficialdomina (since all the way back you asked to be tagged! Ta da! Here it is!!)
You had many regrets in your life. But marrying Prince Loki was not one of them.  When he asked you, you threw your arms around him and kissed him repeating one word- “Yes!”
You never regretted the day you wore a jeweled veil and walked down that aisle. You never regretted vowing before all the gods that you were his and he was yours. You never regretted becoming Princess of Asgard. Not if it meant the love of your life could become your husband.
Some whispered that your choice was unusual. That it was the wrong prince. That you should have married Thor. After all, it seemed obvious he was going to be the heir. But things did not happen in your heart the way they did. Thor was jovial and friendly to you. But before your betrothal, he liked you as a sister. No more, no less. Even if Odin commanded it, Thor would object to the match. If Thor learned to reign in his arrogance someday, you thought, he would make a fine lover to some lucky person!
Other than being the most beautiful man you had ever beheld, Loki was intelligent. Full of elegance as well as guile. Well-read, polite, patient, and charming, but could hold his own in any battle. It seemed you were one of the few people who recognized that. That was one of many reasons why he loved you.
You both attended feasts side by side. He would flirt with you even though you were still about a year into marriage.
“Why, it is too bad that such loveliness is sitting by herself tonight! May I have the seat next to her?” Loki would croon as he sat in the chair next to you.
 You danced every dance together at balls. You especially loved spending free hours exploring the Asgardian library together. Reading works from all Nine Realms. Sometimes until you both fell asleep by the fireplace. Not to mention his finesse in the bedroom.
Loki confessed of his wedding day nerves to you in private. He feared…displeasing you on your wedding night. But your mutual passion and reverence for each other won over all else. Every time you coupled, you brought each other to Valhalla and back again. You learned about each other’s bodies like studying maps. Each minute of lovemaking was both exploration and worship of each other.
Lately, the two of you were careful. You had your own special tea to drink before or after it happened. At most, he would spill his seed somewhere that wasn’t between your legs. You knew so much was happening. Becoming a parent would put more stress on both of you. Especially considering Odin was about to name his heir.
 Though you both did hope someday to have a child. You knew Loki would be a wonderful father and you wanted to be a mother. You wanted a family. You wanted to have a sweet baby (or two) of your own to cuddle and kiss. To hear it laugh when you tickled it. To welcome their first steps with open arms. To watch it grow. To leave your own mark- a person who was both Loki and you.
Now wasn’t the right time, both of you knew it. When you would sigh about it, he would hug you.
“We will wait, my love…time is our friend…” he’d assure you.
 There were worse things in life. And you might as well enjoy what you had now before it was too late. You were lucky to have him. Many couples lived happy, long lives together without children. You were fortunate to have a man who you could confide anything to. And he in turn confided all his worries to you.
The ceremony arrived. And it was not Loki who was named heir as he hoped. It was Thor.
As you stood next to Loki, you felt him stiffen. Thor smiled and held up Mjonir as the kingdom cheered for him. Looking at your husband, you took his hand. You heard him take in a deep sigh through his nose.
“I know you wanted it…I’m so sorry…” you whispered to him, rubbing a thumb over his palm.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
 One evening when you walked about the garden. The sun was setting and while there was some light, you wanted to admire the roses Frigga grew. Dressed in your golden dress, you knelt to sniff a few red ones. Admiring her work and the peace of the place. You jumped when a guard ran over to you.
“The Prince Loki requests your presence immediately in the castle vaults,” he reported.
Picking up your skirts, you hurried there.
“Loki, where are you? Are you hurt?” you asked as you entered.
He was standing on the steps before the Tesseract’s section. He looked up at the sound of your voice. There were tears in his eyes.
“I…I just spoke with father…” he said.
“What did he say this time?” you asked.
He took a step towards you. More tears fell down his cheeks.
“Y/N…I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have married you, shouldn’t have made you my prisoner…” he said.
Pain curled up in your chest at the words. Their grip tightened your throat and your eyes watered as well as his.
“Prisoner!?! What are you talking about, Loki? You cannot believe every word Odin says! I will talk to him myself right away! How dare he say such cruel things to you! You do deserve me! You do!” you cried.
You reached over to grab his hands and he jerked them back.
“No Asgardian maiden deserves to be sold and made wife to a Frost Giant!” He blurted.
You paused.
“Frost Giant?” you repeated.
All your life you heard whispers of the land of the Frost Giants, or Jotenheim. And they were always violent tales of terror. The large, ice creatures were longtime enemies of your kingdom. It was typical for Thor to boast about how much he would slay if given the chance.
“Stay here…and watch…” Loki instructed.
He put his hand on the Tesseract. Upon contact, his skin turned blue and his eyes red. A frost giant if you ever saw one.
Your eyes widened and you gasped in response, a hand flew over your mouth. Shock made your body lock in place. But you did not turn your eyes from him.
“Oh, Loki!” you cried.
You did not flee. No, you would not. Instead, you ran up and embraced him. He felt cold to the touch. As his hands released the Tesseract you felt him warm up in your arms as his skin turned back to ivory. They curled around your back, and he buried himself in your touch. You felt him shaking. Despite your own surprise, you would not abandon him. Never.
“It’s alright…it’s alright, I’m right here…this is a lot, I know…” you consoled as he cried.
He explained to you that years ago, Odin found an abandoned Frost Giant baby in Jotenheim. He took in the infant to be raised as one of his own. But never telling that young prince the truth about his parentage. Not until an accidental discovery. In a recent battle a Frost Gant touched your husband’s arm, changing your prince’s skin to blue beneath his grip. And blue skin could not lie.
“Do you know what I am, Y/N? I am a monster! That’s who you are married to! A monster!” Loki mourned.
You glanced at the door, then back to him. An idea from a recent library read growing in your head.
“Are you familiar with Midgard Fairy Tales? The ones for children?” you asked.
“No,” he answered.
“You don’t?” you asked.
“Midgard never interested me before…”
Taking him by the hand, you led him back to the library. You found a collection of Midgard Fairy Tales left on your favorite chair. You brought it to him and opened it up, flipping the pages. You then pointed to one story. The first page was illustrated with a ship on the ocean, then a rose, and a grand castle.
“You should read this one right here. It was written years ago by a lady. It is a Midgard Fairy Story called La Belle et La Bete or Beauty and The Beast…” you explained.
Loki took the book. He then flipped the page to see a picture of the eponymous beast.
“I know enough of fairy tales. They’re all the same. There’s some giant or creature who’s always the villain. Kidnapping unwilling maidens and hoarding gold. That is until a prince skewers them. Then there’s great celebration over the killing,” he dismissed.
You placed a hand on the page before he could close it.
“You’re right about one thing. There is a beast in this one…” you continued.
“Oh, and he’s there to do those things so babes will grow up learning to hate me,” Loki complained.
“No! Not in this one he’s not!” you objected.
You turned the page. It showed the Beast smiling with a lady in a rose garden.
“Yes, he is a beast. But do you know what he also is? He is the prince in the story! He might look frightening to some, but beneath it, he is kind and generous! He falls in love and marries a woman who sees that in the end! She doesn’t focus on what makes him monstrous and different- she accepts who he is!”
You set the book down and cupped his face.
 “Because she loves him!”
His jaw dropped, speaking nothing. He leaned into your hand.
“A Frost Giant? Yes. I will learn to adjust to the blue skin…but you are my husband. I could not ask for a better one. And I love you. No matter what…” you said.
He embraced you again and you both cried. Tears of happiness and of sorrow. Blue skin or white. Yellow eyes or blue ones. He was Loki. He was your husband, and you would always stay with him. Besides, it’s what he would have done for you.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
When you went to bed that night, you expected tomorrow to be a day like any other. But instead, you were shaken out of sleep.
“Loki, what is it? It’s too early…” you murmured, half-awake.
You felt your bedside but did not feel the lump of his body.
Wakefulness creeping on you, you saw the guards and a few servants in your bedchambers. You jumped to sit up. You held onto the blankets, your knuckles popping in your grip.
“Where is my husband? Is he alright? What’s going on?” you questioned.
Their eyes were all wide. One servant stepped forward and spoke with gravity.
“The prince Thor is banished. And Odin has fallen into his Odinsleep. Loki is now King of Asgard. And you are it’s Queen.”
It was only four sentences. But it felt like something from a dream. You jolted out of bed to stand. You barely opened your mouth to respond when the servant knelt before you. He took your hand and kissed it in reverence.
“Your highness! Queen of Asgard!” he announced.
All bowed before you in your room.
 You expected many things when you married the god of mischief. Just not this! It felt like one of those Midgard Fairytales happening to you.
When you dressed and hurried to your husband in the throne room. You forgot your new role and froze your steps. He sat on a throne, legs deliciously apart. He took up space now. The throne was entirely his and he was going to use every inch of it. He was decked in the robe of a ruler, not a prince destined to wait in the wings all his life. He had power in him, and you had to confess the aura of it was…. doing something for you. Your legs were buckling beneath your dress. There was that infamous, mischievous smile on him. It made you shiver. Already morning and desire swirled inside you. When his head turned to see you, he lit up. He got up from his throne and walked down. Per habit, you curtsied low. Then, placing a finger beneath your chin, he led you to standing. Your sex beneath your legs clenched at the gesture.
He then grabbed you and lifted you up in a hug where your feet didn’t touch the ground.
“Y/N…darling!” he greeted.
He put you down and placed a kiss on your lips.
“But…are you ready to rule? It won’t be easy…” you worried.
“It will not. But at last, think of everything I could do…lead armies…unite kingdoms…”
Even Jotenheim and Asgard if he decreed it so, you noted. You then smiled at him. He was glowing from pride and joy. He took your hand and kissed it.
“If we’re together through this…we can handle it…” he said.
They placed you to stand by his side on the throne.
 Frigga entered. She bowed to you. Your own knees bucked a little out of habit. Usually you were the one bowing to her! You walked down to her, taking her shoulders.
“Queen mother…I…I’m speechless! …I don’t know how I could ever be a queen as well as you!” you confessed to her.
She kissed your cheek and gave you a patient smile.
“Don’t worry, I will help you. Day by day, step by step, you will learn how.”
“Thank you…what do I do now?”
“You will be crowned this afternoon. The kingdom will be watching. Look at them, your people. And show them you care…” she advised.
The hour arrived for them all. Swarms of people broke in like a flood to the throne room. You felt every eye as a golden crown was placed on your head and as his familiar helmet was placed on Loki.
Remembering Frigga’s advice, you looked down on them. You allowed a smile to grow on you. You smiled as you heard your name being chanted along with your husband's name.
They cheered and bowed to you. Flags were waved and confetti fell like snow across the palace.  Loki got took your hand and lifted it up before them. They began to cry out.
“Hail the King Loki! Hail the Queen Y/N!”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
When the sun began to set, a familiar servant ran up to you.
“The King sends his regrets that duties require his immediate attention. He asked for the cooks to go ahead and serve you dinner in his absence,” she announced.
“Thank you,” you replied. An attempt at a regal tone of voice new to you.
The servant bowed and left. She didn’t do that as reverently when you were a mere princess. You ate your dinner alone and then took a rosewater bath right after. You noticed several stray petals floating around in the tub.
Once you finished, you returned to your chambers. It seemed they would stay the same for now. The King’s room was for the Odinsleep. Drying yourself you picked a nightgown. Tonight, it was a white one with a silvery tone to it. It had long sleeves that draped down and had beautiful beading around the bodice. The neckline dipped down to the clasp that secured it. Some might consider it immodest, but it was too beautiful for your resistance. It gave you some very sensual cleavage that you loved (and so would your husband). The skirt then dipped down to the floor, making it feel like a robe, but the material was not so thick that it felt too hot.
If you dressed more like a queen, even at night, you would feel more apt to the role.
What a day it had been. Part of your body ached after such excitement. You sat by your vanity on a cushion. Flowers (including the roses you liked) from the gardens in vases bedecked it. By the candlelight you checked your hair. Sighing in, you relaxed on the seat, admiring the glimpse of the kingdom at night from your curtains. Enjoying a moment of peace.
You then heard his voice outside the door.
“I am now going to bed. Do not disturb us unless there is an emergency,” Loki ordered the servants and guards. Already he was speaking more like a king.
The doors creaked as he opened it and walked inside. Though he was in his own green bedrobes, there was a bounce and urgency to his step. Then he approached you as you sat on the cushion before the vanity. Though his blue eyes did wander hungrily to your low neckline. They then returned up to your face in the mirror’s reflection.
“How is my pretty queen tonight?” he asked.
“I’m good…” you answered.
“Are you tired?” he asked with a tone of concern.
He placed a hand on your shoulder, fingers drumming in anticipation. Was there some old prank he was going to pull that he wanted you to see? What was he going to say?
“Only a little…I’m still taking it in…” you replied.
He embraced you from behind, nuzzling into your neck. You smiled at the contact of feeling his nose against your skin. He smiled as he looked at you in the mirror.
“You always were a queen to me, my dear….” He said.
He kissed your cheek and then lowered his lips to your neck. You smiled, enjoying the increasingly amorous gesture. You felt the tickle of his breath. His soft lips made another kiss in between your neck and clavicle. You melted into it.
“My, Freya has gotten someone enchanted…” you teased.
“It’s not Freya who enchants me…” he husked.
He then turned you around and led you to stand. And laid a desperate kiss on your lips. You wrapped your arms around him. He slid in his tongue. A hand of his crept to hold your back to him. You groaned into it. Already, arousal began its long, sinful climb with its wet signal between your legs. You released lips with a satisfying smack.
“If you continue this, I’ll ring for that tea…” you said.
“No…” he voiced.
“Hmm?”
He held your hands down.
“You won’t need that tea tonight. Or for a while…” he said.
You blinked.
“How come?”
He gave you a smile, looking in your eyes.
“I must tell you…the council has given me much advice. To secure myself as king, there are a few things I can do. Enact laws. Silence any rebellions or refusals. And, since I’m already married...”
He paused.
“Sire an heir.”
You felt your breath stop in your throat. Your eyes widened. His smile went down to a smirk. A glint in his eye as he went to you. His eyes roaming down your exposed chest. His hands wandered down, staring to hike a little of your skirt.
“So, you’re saying…” you stuttered.
“Y/N, I…I need you tonight…tonight…I’ll give you a child, an heir, someone to carry on my reign, and keep me as king…Would you like that?” he asked.
He leaned closer. Wanting to kiss you, then pausing. You could feel his breath just on your lips, making you dizzy. He placed his hips against yours. You felt a moan shudder out of you. Your answer was an easy one.
“Yes, yes I would.”
He swept you up in his arms, strong despite his lean frame.  Your heart raced so hard you felt it would burst out of you. He laid you on the bed then crawled over you. You felt yourself trembling like it was the first time. He cupped your cheek and leaned over to kiss you.
“My queen, my darling…”
You wrapped your arms around him.
“And my Prince made King,” you said back.
Intuitively, he ground his hips on yours. A small shudder went through you, coming out as a sigh. You reached a hand to run it through his hair as he kissed you again. Combing through those dark curls you loved so much. Because they were a part of him. His crown that never left him. You gave him another, harder kiss. He then looked down at your robe. He slid a hand over the beading, over your chest.
“A lady beautiful as you could doesn’t need such …embellishments…” he growled.
He removed his hand to lift it in the air. He flicked it and a green light began at the tips of your toes and then worked its way up your legs and through your body. Your evening robes for sleeping vanished and instead was your skin. He wetted his lips at the sight of your nakedness.
“I’ve longed to see this, to touch you for hours…”
He went up to your bare breasts. You gulped as he began to kiss it. Your back arched on impulse, tensing already. As he worked his way to the center, you felt yourself tensing already. Smiling at the pleasure as he used his tongue, swirling your nipple. Chills ran over you. He released his mouth to whisper.
“I’ve missed your breasts. The shape. The softness. Feeling you…”
He replaced it with his large hand. He gently squeezed and groped both around. You exhaled out another sound coming out of you. Not a polite one.
“Perfection-perfect for my hands. And perfect to nurse my heir…”
He then lowered himself down, kissing your stomach. Tracing your hips. He then kissed your bellybutton, dipping his tongue into the hole of it. Only a symbol of what was next. A delicious forewarning. Preparation. You grew wetter with the feeling of something soft and wet inside a hole of yours.
“Loki…Loki, my dear…husband…” you whimpered.
He held your hips down, tracing it and feeling them again. How they curved up to where they made your waist. His fingers sprawled possessively over your flesh. Then back down to your hips. Looking down, there was a bulge getting bigger against his green robe.
“And these…perfect. Perfect for what I put between them. For my mouth, my fingers, my cock, and my child…”
He pulled his head up, then you put your finger to his lips. Giggling lightly, as did he.
“You talk so much. But you’ve yet to bare yourself too, my love,” you teased.
With a cocky half-smile, all he did was tilt his head. The seidr ran down from the forehead to the toes, and the smooth robe was replaced with his warm skin. He was so beautiful. Every time he took off his clothes, it was everything in you not to stare. He had a broad, ivory chest so large and enveloping. It was like a blanket when you rested your head on them or when he thrust on top of you. You put a hand to explore the crevices, going through the patch of hairs on him. His muscular shoulders, perfect for digging your nails in. His abdominals-both soft and strong. For he was both at the center of his heart as well. Thighs made thick from running, jumping, and everything a warrior did.
He ground against you. His cock, already hard, teased your stomach. He leaned up to kiss your neck in its small soft spot. A hand returning to your breast.
“You will look wonderful engorged with a babe…a child…a part of you that will always be there, a trace of us together.”
“Loki…my dear husband…I love you…” you voiced.
He smiled, inching close.
“And I love you when you’re screaming beneath me…”
With one long, beautiful hand, he took the outside of your legs. He traced his fingers down from thigh to knee. Ghosting against the upper flesh of your skin. As tenderly as if you were the brightest, most precious jewel kept in his treasury. In seas of coins, rubies, and diamonds…it was you, you out of everything else, that mattered to him.
He took his large, beautiful hands and then moved them to the inside of your knees. You bit back a moan, leaning your head into the pillow as you felt it.
Using both his hands, he then spread you apart, wide open. He looked down at you and grinned. He had seen, felt, penetrated, and tasted your pussy like an addict. Always hungry for more. Even if you were poison, he would consider it the sweetest way to die. He placed himself back up. The tip just teasing your entrance. Every nerve inside you screamed. It brushed against you, never plunging in.
“You’re a banquet all for me, my dear…now…are you ready?” he whispered.
“Oh, please…. stop tormenting me… I want a child…and I want you…give me…give me one, Loki…” you begged.
“Let me…let me feel your sweet warmth and take your king’s shaft…” Loki husked.
He plunged into you slowly. Part of you panted through your nose. You felt him climb inside, inch by agonizing inch. This was a ceremony, sacred as any other rite in a royal bedroom. As if everything had to be right. Yet there was beauty-there was divinity. An ecstasy of reaching something otherworldly in between each other’s legs. You let out a loud gasp when he placed all of you inside him. You grabbed onto him.
He then retracted his hips, and he began to thrust into you. Grinding you right into the bed. Writhing as you accepted his largeness like it was new. Each gasp from his breath, each pant from each thrust. You could feel one muscular arm of your husbands touched the headboard, keeping him steady against you. You felt your back and ass slide against the silk sheets. He was slow, but eager.
“Yes…I promised you… when we married…I’d give you-nrgh-I’d give-give you everything-fuck-everything you’d ever want-gods…yes, gods, yes!” he whimpered as he thrusted.
You let out a moan with each thrust, your own breasts bouncing slowly with the movement. He looked down, releasing the hand on the headboard to slap them.
You let out a gasp- “L-Loki-you-you-you beast!”
“I thought you figured that out already, darling…” he whispered with a chuckle.
You felt his other hand wander to touch your back. You writhed under him.  He then slid his hand under his hips guide you up. His strength held you steady. He hit a different angle and you let out a cry-it was deeper, and his cock had found it’s way to your bud. Already sensitive and shaking.
“L-Loki! There! Please! There!”  you begged as he kept thrusting.
“As my queen commands…”
You saw the veins in his neck tightening as he kept on. His black curls messed around him- wild and free. A creature claiming his prize for the night. How beautiful he looked. You returned a hand back up and pulled him down. You kissed him with such fervor as he thrust that he stayed for only a second inside you, pausing, catching a breath. What breath there was, anyway.
Then he picked up the pace slightly. You were starting to see stars. That sweet angle where he got your clit. You felt pleasure rise  in you. Yes, it was arriving. You moved your hands down from his shoulders, down his triangular back. Once you found his soft, perfect ass you pushed him in again.
“Loki I’m…I’m…I’m close…oh norns- I’m…I’m going to cum!” you pleaded.
“So…am I-nrg-Call me king, call me king again and…and…I’ll-I’ll drive you there with me …”
He lowered his voice. Guttural and demanding.
“Call- me- your- king.”
He even got his free hand inside, speeding you up as he too sped up. You felt it-the breaking point.
“Yes-please-my- my king! My king!” you cried.
He let out a shout and you felt his hot seed spurt inside you. Your own climax then broke upon you. Thw words repeated out of you in a whisper.
“My king…my…my…”
It was the climax where it spun inside you. You felt your whole-body lock. Your quim felt as if it was spinning, sputtering with the pleasure. As well as his seed.  You groaned as it washed you down and you felt it. Your eyes teared up. His stayed inside, spurting like mad. Free and plentiful after starvation. A broken dam. He stayed inside. Not wasting one drip of him. You accepted it, every bit of it. Not one drop would go to waste. You felt your body buzz. Vibrating on the inside though you were still. Still except for your own breasts heaving with the breath you caught. You felt him catch his breath on top of you too.
He then cupped your cheek. His curls fell before his face. But his smile and blue eyes glowing from them.
“I couldn’t have asked for better. A better broodmare. A better wife. A better queen by my side…” he said.
Playfully, you went up and kissed the tip of his nose. He grinned at it and then embraced you. Arms flinging around each other. His own sweaty, earthy scent mixed with the rosewater bath you had earlier.
His cock still twitched inside you. Then you felt a final hot release of him and there was no more. He pulled out. Once it left you, you felt a cold space in your quim. Like it was an empty niche, something that needed filling. So much was he a part of you. You reached up your hand to brush his curls back. Seeing his face. Seeing him.
He then went down to your stomach, kissing it.
“I think if it’s a boy…we should call him Tuck…and if it’s a girl...Idona…” you then told him.
He rolled over to lay his head on the pillow. Then he turned over. You hummed at the sight of him- oh Hela, his beautiful profile was art itself!
“And what if we have twins?” he asked.
“I’ll figure it out, later!” you replied with a small laugh.
You placed your head on his chest and looked up and he down.
“I hope you’ve forgiven me for missing dinner…we’ll eat together tomorrow night; I’ll make it up to you…” he said.
“Of course, I forgive you. You had duties of your own…” you whispered.
He then gave a smile with the familiar, delicious darkness in his eyes.
“It might take more than once. We will try for an heir no matter how many times it takes. I’d like to have you on that very table like a meal of my own to devour. And I’ll have you on the library walls. On each rug. On each column. So, rest well…you have several duties of your own tomorrow.”
544 notes · View notes
justmeinadaze · 1 year
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Good Neighbors Part 1 (Steddie X Reader)
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A/N: I did it :). Ok as previously stated I have never written this dynamic before so I open to all critiques and suggestions! I also set this in todays timeframe. I hope y'all enjoy.
Warnings: Reader is a soon to be divorcee and a single mom. Cute Steddie going on here with her kiddo. Definitely smut of the threesome variety and all that that implies (I regret nothing!) Steve is slightly rougher during sex but I decided to go against the Daddy Steve/Master Eddie dynamic. I don't think I'm there yet! Lol.
Word Count: 4583
“Wow!” Your son’s eyes light up as he takes a look at the outside of the apartment complex you’re moving into. “It’s so big.” 
“Yeah, it is.” To a six-year-old child you image it would seem that way but for you, coming from an actual home, this would be a substantial downgrade. As long as he was happy though, you were happy. 
“Here, weirdo. Take this.” You hand him his little suitcase so he feels useful. While you were packing his things, he would throw a tantrum if you wouldn’t let him help. 
“Mooooom! I’m strong. I can help!”
You slung a few bags over your shoulder and you both headed up the stairs to your new place. The apartment across the way was blaring loud heavy metal music causing you to huff under your breath. Your son marched in front of you and banged on your new neighbor’s door.
“Dylan! No! You know better than to knock on a stranger’s door.”
The door flung open and a tall young man about your age stood in the doorframe. He was extremely good looking with even better-looking hair. He was either about to head to work or just got back. He had on some jeans and a polo shirt with a green vest covering it. You squinted as you read the name tag; “Family Video- Steve”. 
“Excuse me, Mister. Can you turn your music down? It’s a little loud.” Dylan shook his small index finger at the man. 
He stared at him for a few seconds before a beautiful smile stretched across his face. “You know what, little man? You are absolutely right. It is loud. I tell my friend that all the time but he never listens.”
“Who the hell are you…oh.” Another boy comes into the doorway about the same age if not a little older. He had a guitar slung across his bare chest and torn up jeans that were sagging around his waist so you could slightly see the blue boxers underneath. “Who’s this?”
Dylan looks at you for approval and you nod your head, smiling down at him. “I’m Dylan and this is my mommy. We live here now.” He points at the apartment and you give them a tiny wave. 
“Well, Dylan, I’m Steve.” He points to his name tag. “And this is my friend Eddie.”
Your son grabs your hand and pulls you forward. “You have to say hi.”, he whispers. 
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot.” You whisper back to him, giving him a little wink. “Hi. I’m Y/N. I’m really sorry. Normally he doesn’t initiate conversations with people he doesn’t know but…”
“It’s not a problem at all. Sorry about the music. It’s his day off so when he relaxes--“
“Is the music too loud? Shit. I’m sorry.” Eddie interrupts Steve and runs back into the apartment. Steve rolls his eyes after him as Dylan covers his mouth, giggling at the curse word. 
“Can we help you guys move?”
“Oh, no it’s ok. The movers are on their way but I appreciate you asking.”
“Hey anything to help a beautiful woman and her little gentleman.” Steve flashes you a confident smile that makes you blush. “Well, if you change your mind or if you need anything, we’re here.” 
“Bye Steve!” Dylan waves at him as you pick him up, enter the apartment, and close the door. 
After the movers dropped everything off, the unpacking was under way. You wanted things to feel as homey as possible so Dylan would be comfortable. After his father left, you didn’t want more things to change for him. Something like that is already traumatic enough for a child. It only got worse when your soon to be ex-husband decided he no longer wanted to help you make payments on the house you guys had shared. 
“Where are we going to go, Charlie? He needs a roof. He needs normalcy.”
“Maybe he should come live with me then.”
“Why? So he can sit at home alone? You barely saw him when we were married but at least he had me there.”
“Oh, get off your high horse, Y/N. You better find something or I’ll be seeing you in court to take him. I’m not going to spend any extra money I do have for you to live in my house!”
###############
The sound of the bass thumping against the walls made your eyes roll as you scrunched your nose in annoyance. Your son giggled and you responded by sticking out your tongue. 
“What are you laughing at?” Dylan mimics your face causing him to erupt in a fit of laughter again. Your phone on the counter vibrates. “Go grab that for me, you little butthead.”
Without telling you who it is he immediately puts the phone to his ear. “Hi daddy!”
“Hey, buddy! How are you doing?”
You watch him cautiously as they talk. “I’m good. I like it here.”
“You do? You’ve been there a couple of weeks now.  Met any kids your age yet?”
“Not yet but Mommy and I met Steve and Eddie. They like music really loud!”
“Oh? Well, that’s interesting. Listen, Dil, can you give the phone to mommy?”
“Ok. I love you, Daddy!” Dylan passes the phone and you stand up to take it outside. 
“Hey, Butthead. Why don’t you go get ready for bed and after I talk with your dad, I’ll read you book?” He claps his hands excited as he runs into his room. You reluctantly put the phone to your ear as you exit the front door. “How can I help you, Charlie?”
“Who’s Steve and Eddie?” He asks sternly.
“Neighbors—”
“Jesus, Y/N. I can hear the music through the phone!”
You walk halfway down the stairs and sit on the middle step, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. “Again, something you NEED, Charles?”
“Look, I may not be able to take him this weekend.”
The smell of cigarette smoke fills the air and you wish you had one between your fingers right now. “Why didn’t you tell him that?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt him. I know how much he was looking forward to—”
“Oh? But it’s ok for me to break his heart?”
“I didn’t say that. You’re twisting my words again.” He responds to your accusation through gritted teeth. 
“So, what is it this time, huh? Work? A date? Flying to the moon to save the planet?”
“See, this why I left. Why do you have to be a bitch all the time? I’m just trying to have a conversation!”
“No, you left because of the whore I found you fucking in our bed. Good night, Charlie.” You press End and slam your phone on the step next to you. 
“He seems like an asshole.” The sound of a male voice behind you makes you jump. Turning around, you see Eddie sitting a couple of stair steps above you, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingers. “Sorry, Sweetheart! I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come out.”
You slide up the couple of steps to sit closer to him. His long wavy hair is nestled behind a black bandana. He’s wearing his usual jeans with a black hole riddled Metallica shirt. Eddie’s fingers reach in your direction offering you a puff from his cigarette which you eagerly accept. You can taste him on the end of it causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.
“How much of that did you hear?” You ask passing it back to him. 
He makes an adorable thinking face. “Um, I came out around ‘Why didn’t you tell him?’ but stayed for the sarcasm after.” 
You smile up at him as you let out a soft sigh. “I just hate seeing that look on Dylan’s face when I have to tell him his dad can’t see him.”
Eddie nods to himself as he squishes out the cigarette on the concrete and leans back on his elbows. “Yeah, Steve and I know that feeling. From the kid’s perspective I mean. I don’t think either of our mother’s really cared about us like you do with your son.”
You reach out placing your hand gently on his knee. “I’m sorry you guys had to go through that.” His substantially bigger, calloused palm comes down to cover yours as his thumb rubs against your skin. You bring your legs up to your chest trying to hide the movement of you rubbing your thighs together. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched you let alone in a tender manner like this and the fact that the man doing the touching was incredibly good looking didn’t hurt either. 
“Eddie, oh my god, again with the music?” Steve’s voice radiated exhaustion as he climbed the stairs and leaned against the railing across from you. 
“Yeah, sorry Stevie. That was my bad. I have a couple of people from work over tonight.” He leans toward the outside wall of their apartment and bangs his fist loudly against it. His chest is inches from your face and you close your eyes and inhale the scent of him. He smells like cigarettes, of course, but there’s also touches of gasoline and an undertone of cologne he most likely sprayed on himself before work that morning. 
The door to their apartment opened and the sound of girl made your eyes fly open. Your look was met with Steve’s watchful one. Eddie swiveled his neck to face his friend. “Hey, can you turn the music down? There’s a little one trying to sleep.” He gestures towards your door.
She nods her head and closes the door again. Suddenly, you feel extremely stupid. Of course, there were girls in their apartment. Why wouldn’t there be? They were two single, attractive men. You had no reason to be jealous of the beautiful young lady who poked her head out. 
It takes you a while to notice that they are both staring at you intently. 
“Um, I should go back inside.” You quickly rise, avoiding their gaze, and climb the stairs. “Thank you for the cigarette and turning down the sound.” 
After you close the front door, you lean against it, peaking out of the peephole. Steve stomps up the stairs. 
“Really, Eddie? Good job, man.”
“What did I do? Some friends wanted to buy and they stayed over for a bit.”
Steve gives him an annoyed look. “Oh yeah, because girls in tight skirts and loud blaring metal just scream ‘Hey beautiful girl, we like you. Come spend time with us.’”
You jump and let out a little shriek as your son pulls on the back of your shirt. “Dylan! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
He giggles, shaking a book at you. “You said you would read to me.”
“I did, didn’t I? Ok, get back in bed. I’ll be right there.”
Before you turn to follow him, you take one last look out into the entrance way. Steve and Eddie were smiling at your apartment door. Eddie made an “I told you so” face at his roommate as they both entered their domain and closed the door.
####################
Saturday night you and Dylan are lying on the couch watching a movie when there’s a subtle knock at your door. You open it to see your two handsome neighbors standing there with enormous grins plastered on their face. 
“Why, hello ma’am.” Eddie says in comical announcer style voice. Steve follows his lead. 
“We heard there might be a little boy who got stood up so we brought pizza and video games.” They each hold up the items in their hands. Eddie had the more adult beverages and some ice cream. You smile at them as you turn your head towards the inside of your apartment.
“Dylan! It’s for you.” You feel small hands hug your leg as he cautiously looks around you.
“Hey, little man.” Steve beams down at him and Dylan gasps with excitement. 
You reach over and take the pizza from his hands. “Now this here. This is for mommy.”
“No! That’s not fair!” You son chases after you into the kitchen as the boys come in and close the door.  Eddie heads for the tv and starts hooking up his gaming system. Dylan sits next to him, asking him questions. Steve joins you and helps pull plates from cabinets, serving food. He turns to look at you as you reach out and gently touch his arm. 
“Thank you, guys. For this.”, you whisper. “He was really upset when I told him his dad couldn’t see him.”
“Well, I know what it feels like to have your dad bail on you.” He leans against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. 
“Yeah, Eddie told me you guys didn’t have…great parents.” You try and tread the topic carefully not wanting to make him uncomfortable. 
Steve shrugs. “It is what it is, right?” He scoots over till his side grazes your stomach, his arms dropping to hold the structure behind him. “How are you doing?”
You look up and meet his eyes, your breath catching in your throat. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” His index finger rises from its place and lifts the lower part of your tank top, tracing the pad of his digit against your skin. You exhale shakily as his eyes never leave yours. 
“My pleasure.”
“Mom!” Dylan shouts as he rounds the corner. You jump back from Steve quickly and face your child. “Eddie and I hungry!”
“Starving.” You glance over the banister into the living room, catching Eddies smirk. There was something knowing behind it. You clear your throat, regaining your composure. 
“I’m sorry! Blame Steve, here. He moves too slow.”
“Oh, I can move as fast as you want, you just have to let me know.” He winks in your direction as Eddie lets out a chuckle. 
You grab a beer from the table where Eddie left them and handed a plate to your son. He thanks you as he runs back towards the floor. Steve hands you a plate and you playfully punch his chest. On your way to the couch, you make sure to kick Eddie lightly in the back. 
“Ow. Aggressive!” He shouts before stuffing a whole slice into his mouth making Dylan laugh. 
################
After many rounds of battling and button mashing on Tekken, Dylan passes out on the floor. You gently pick him up and carry him to his room, tucking him into bed. 
“That kid is so much fun.” Eddie says as you close the door and head back into the living room. 
“Thank you. Yeah, he’s a good kid. Good heart.”, you smile. 
Steve rises to his feet, extending his hand out to Eddie to help him off the ground. “So, we were thinking… would you like to come across to our place and relax for a bit? We could smoke some weed, listen to music, not at full volume of course.”
“Uh…” You take a cursory glance towards Dylan’s room.
“He’ll be ok. I mean you’re right there.” Eddie points in the direction of their apartment. 
You finally nod your head as you follow behind them through their front door. It was definitely a man’s place. It smelled musky with a mixture of their own separate scents. There were posters for bands and action movies all over the wall. The living room was a mess with a combination of take-out containers, clothes, and a couple of overflowing ashtrays spread about. 
“Sorry for the way it looks. We’ve been kind of busy.” Steve runs around grabbing trash and throwing it in a nearby bin as Eddie disappears and reappears with a little black tin box. 
“Don’t even worry about it. I have a six-year-old, remember?” Eddie chuckles as he starts rolling a joint on the coffee table in front of him. “What have you guys been busy with?”
“Work mostly.” Steve answers as comes back from the kitchen with a beer in his hand. “I’m at Family Video and Eddie works at a mechanic shop a few blocks down the way.”
You throw your body down next to Eddie’s on the couch. “Ah. That explains the gasoline smell.”
He looks at you, smirking. “You sniffing me, Princess?” You giggle as you rub your hand on his back. 
“It’s kind of hard not to. It’s strong.” He gives you an apologetic glance. “No, it’s ok. I like it. Reminds me of my dad. He used to fix up cars when I was growing up.” 
Steve takes a seat next to you. “Does he not anymore?”
“No. He passed away before Dylan was born.”
Eddie lights the joint, taking a hit before passing it to you. “I’m sorry. That must have been rough.”
The three of you sit there, casually making conversation, while you smoked. They told you about work, certain relationships, and how they came to live where they are now. You told them about your ex-husband and how he basically kicked you guys out of the house. You were extremely comfortable just sitting there talking with them. Something about them made you feel safe which is something you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Their dynamic was also something that completely fascinated you. They talked to and about each other like they weren’t just friends but like they were an old married couple. Sometimes they would exchange glances like they both had a secret you weren’t allowed to be privy to. Not yet anyway. 
“So, what do you do again?” Eddie offers you the joint but this time you decline. 
“I’m a guidance counselor at Hawkins High school. I help kids apply for college, figure out what they want to do, things like that.”
Steve chokes as he inhales. “Are you serious? That’s where we went to school!”
“For real. It took me like 30 years to graduate. Probably could have used some guidance from someone like you.” Eddie laughs as he pats your bare thigh. You notice his hand lingers before it slides up finding a home just below your shorts. Steve lifts his arm, resting it behind your head on the back of the couch. 
“Ok, what’s up with you guys?” You’re not sure if it’s the drugs or the alcohol that makes you ask the question but you feel suddenly desperate to get an answer. 
Eddie and Steve exchange a look. “You’ll have to be more specific.” Eddie leans in tossing the burned out joint in the nearest ashtray. He adjusts his body so it’s facing more toward you.
Your eyes narrow in on his before you let out a frustrated sigh. “Whatever. Nevermind.” As you start to lean forward, Steve’s fingers grab your shoulder pulling you back. 
“Let me rephrase. We WANT you to be more specific.” Steve’s tone was gentle but commanding. With his other hand, he reaches out caress your cheek. 
“Steve, she did just get out of a shitty relationship. Maybe we should go a little easy on her.” 
Your breathing stutters when you feel Eddie’s palm rub the inside of your thigh, just barely hovering near your core. Your eyes have yet to break from Steve’s slightly intimidating stare.
“Yeah? Do you think we should go easier on you?”
Your head tilts up, aggressively pressing your lips to his. You hummed at the taste of him as he slid his tongue in to meet yours. His arm came off the couch to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you tighter to him. On instinct, your hips pivot towards him but Eddie’s strong hand held them in place. 
You turn to look in his direction as Steve continues to kiss your jawline down to your neck. You watch with lust filled eyes as Eddie reaches for the waistband of your shorts and slides them down your legs. As you lift your hips off the couch to help, Steve’s hand comes to rest behind your back trying to pull you closer.
“Steve!” Eddie laughs in amusement. “Come on, man.” Instantly his hands drop from your body and without hesitation you flip over towards the other man planting your mouth on his. Eddie tasted different but still delicious. His lips moved differently than Steves as well. Steve’s kisses felt more determined whereas Eddie’s felt more passionate. It was almost euphoric to feel the contrast at once. 
Steve reached down and lifted your legs so you were laying horizontally on the sofa. You disconnected from Eddie’s mouth long enough to turn your body so your back was against his chest; his hand immediately grabbing your face to turn your lips back to his. 
You whimpered against him when you felt Steve move the piece of cotton blocking your center as his nose grazed your clit. He slowly ran his tongue along the inside of your folds, a moan vibrating from his throat. 
“Fuck, Munson. She tastes so good.” He dives his head further into your cunt, his tongue flicking in and out of your entrance. As you turn away from Eddie to watch him, the boy behind you whispers devilishly in your ear. 
“Yeah? You like watching him eat your pussy. He says you taste fucking amazing.” Eddie’s arm reaches over you as his long fingers slide across your swollen nub. You head falls back on his shoulders as you listen to the sound of Eddie lick and suck them clean before placing them back between your legs. “He’s right. Fucking hell. Your ex-husband was a fucking moron for letting you go.”
You grind your hips against them, turning to suck on Eddie’s neck. Your left-hand clings to Steve’s hair while you right loops around Eddie’s forearm. You feel that feeling in your belly as your pussy starts to clench around his tongue. He pumps into you fast as Eddie matches his pace. You cry out a moan as the rubber band snaps and you cum against them. Both boys help ride you through it as your body twitches with pleasure. 
Eddie feels your tiny hand reaching behind you fumbling his belt. He helps you and when he lifts his hips to slide his pants below his knees you feel his hard cock slid against the outside of your puffy lips. “Fuck.”, youmoan as your glide yourself against him, your leaking juices wetting him.
He pumps himself a few times before slowly sliding into your entrance. You continue grinding your hips as you ride him. “Fuck, Eddie. So big…so deep.”, groan out as he grunts behind you. A hand softly touches your face and you open your eyes to Steve on his knees in front you, pants pushed to his ankles, pumping his own cock with his hand. 
“Does he feel good, baby?” You nod but Steve’s other hand grips your chin making you face him. “Tell me how good he feels.”
The overwhelming feeling of Eddie stretching you out makes it hard to form words and it doesn’t help when he grips your waist, thrusting up into you roughly. You lean your forehead on Steves. “He feels…so good. I’m…fuuuck…” Steve nods his head encouraging you to continue. “I’m going to cum.”
“Did you hear that, Eds?”
Eddie swallows a moan. “Yeah, I heard her. Fucking Christ, I can feel her to. Harrington, she’s so fucking tight. Y/N, can I cum inside you?” Steve’s pupils dilate as he to waits for your answer. 
Your eyes don’t leave his. “Yes. Yes, I’m on the pill.” Steve licks his lips hungrily as he pulls you by the back of the neck to kiss him. You hand grips his wrists as you breathe out silent moans. You cum around Eddie’s cock as he thrusts into you sharply before you feel his arms wrap around your front and his sweaty forehead lean down on your back as releases deep inside on you. 
You three sit there silently as you and Eddie try to catch your breath. Eddie’s soft lips run along your spine and Steve delicately pushes some hair out of your face. “You did so well, baby. Taking Eddie’s dick like that. Such an amazing, beautiful woman.” He grabs your hand and wraps your fingers around his now seemingly aching hard cock. “Do you think you can take me to?”
Eddie groans behind you as your pussy flutters at Steve’s request. You lift yourself off of him and cry at the empty feeling as you straddle Steve’s waist. He lifts you up with him as makes himself more comfortable sitting back against the couch with his feet on the floor. Steve watches you with blown out eyes as a line of spit drips from your mouth onto the tip of length. He growls as you spread it around him with your hand before guiding his cock to your center.
Both yours and Steve’s head lean back in ecstasy. You clung to his shoulders as you bounce on his dick feeling him hit that spongey spot deep inside of you making you whine. 
“Just like that, Steve. Please.” His large hands grab your neck pulling you towards him. 
“Please what? I want to hear you.”
“Please. Don’t stop. Fuck.”
He pushes your head roughly to his shoulder as he locks his arms behind your back pounding into you at a rapid pace. Another hand comes up to pet your hair and you open your eyes to see Eddie sitting back on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Steve. 
“You look so beautiful like this, Sweetheart.” He places a soft kiss on your lips, sliding his finger between you and Steve as he reaches for your sensitive clit, trying to match the other boy’s rhythm.
Steve releases his hold to bring you to his face. His hands firmly grip the sides of your face holding you in place. “Cum again, Y/N. I can feel it. Your close. Cum for me. I want to feel your pussy fuckin’ gripping me, babe.” As he whispered his filthy words, you panted against his lips. 
As the coil snaps for the third time, Steve brings your head back to his shoulder, holding you to him as thrusts his warm seed into your quivering body. They both murmur praises to you that you can barely hear. Eddie lifts your hair and touches your face, asking if you’re alright. 
With hooded eyes you nod, curling up closer into Steve’s neck. He picks you up slightly, sliding himself out of your entrance and turns you so both your legs are over his. Eddie gets up, grabbing your shorts from the floor, and Steve lifts you so he can get them up your waist.
The feeling of you being moved around brings you back to reality for a moment. “Hey, it’s ok. We’re just taking you home.” Eddie slings your arm around his neck as he carries you across to your apartment. Once he enters your room, he gently places you down on the bed, pulling the covers over your frame. “Good night, Sweetheart.” Eddie kisses your forehead before moving out of the way for Steve.
“Hey, I know you’re half asleep but I just wanted you to know that I checked on Dylan and he’s completely knocked out.”
You lazily smile as you fully closed your eyes again. You felt him kiss your cheek and shuffle out of the room, following Eddie back to their apartment. 
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bluebeary-jay · 7 months
Text
Playing pretend
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Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!Reader
Summary: a simple mission turns out to be quite a challenge when you find out that you're partnered with Jack Daniels. oh, and that you have to pretend to be in love with each other. easy? not at all.
Tags: fake dating lets gooo!! idiots in love, fluff, some steamier scenes later on, reader is a tease and Jack is a disaster. equals mutual dumbassery
Warnings: jealousy, not smut but some steam for sure, a few ridiculous southern sayings i had way too much fun coming up with
Word count: 5.5K
A/N: i don't really know why i chose jack for this prompt but i think it fits nicely. @pedrostories i know i'm late but i wanted to do this for you ❤️ congrats again!! and for all the other lovely people who stick around, i hope you like this and happy reading!! 💕 comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and i love you all so much for the constant support 💗
This was supposed to be a delicate type of operation, which is why you were the first choice for the mission. It wasn’t a dig of any kind – everyone just knew you were good at handling tense situations and skilled at staying out of sight, not to mention your gift for making people trust you easily. Everything that was needed for this particular task.
Who wasn’t good at blending in, however, was Agent Whiskey. Which is why you were more than a little surprised when it turned out he’ll be your partner for the mission.
“I know he’s not exactly a subtle sort,” said Champ when you brought it up. “But we do need to get the target’s attention and… well, we can count on him when it comes to that. Besides, who knows,” he sent you a half-smile, though he seemed unsure of his own words, somehow, “maybe you two will balance yourself out. Maybe it’ll be good for you.”
So that’s how it happened. That’s how you got stuck with Jack Daniels.
It wasn’t that you disliked Jack. He was a handful, yes, an arrogant asshole and a show-off, but he also could make you laugh. He was very skilled at fighting and you knew you could count on him if things went south. And, though you would never admit it, he wasn’t the worst to look at.
The main problem was the combination of his stupid cockiness on this particular mission.
Because you had to pretend to be in love.
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“C’mon, sunshine, it won’t be that bad.”
“Maybe for your dumb ass,” you murmured in response while walking to the table, squeezing Jack’s arm tightly and subtly looking around the hall. “I swear, Whiskey, if you try something…”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The man you were supposed to pretend to be dating leaned in, and your whole body tensed. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman, sweet pea.”
“I doubt it.”
“...For the remainder of the mission.”
“There you go.”
In his usual ‘Jack Daniels’ fashion, he started pushing your buttons to the extreme even before your jet plane landed, and you had to close your eyes and count from ten to zero several times already, ordering yourself to calm down. Sometimes, you had to admit, his confidence and cheekiness were quite endearing, making you think about that frustratingly beautiful face of his late at night, but this time he was treading on very thin ice and you didn’t feel like being understanding.
You used to pride yourself in knowing exactly how to handle him. Jack was the biggest tease and a diva, and as long as you balanced the thin line between not encouraging his antics and giving him just enough attention, he became as gentle as a lamb in your presence. But this… this stupid, stupid mission…
“Would you like a cupcake, my lovely tater tot?” Whiskey’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, and you had to stop the grimace on your face at the over-the-top nickname and his smug smirk. Instead, you just smiled sweetly.
“Only if you have some, my little meatball,” you answered through gritted teeth, but his infuriating smile only grew. Great.
The problem wasn’t even Jack. It was you, and that was what was driving you crazy.
You used to have a small, tiny crush on the older agent, but you liked to think it was long gone, water under the bridge and all that crap. He was Jack Daniels, for heaven’s sake – he’d never be interested in someone as guarded and shy as you, and though it took you a few months to realize that his ‘flirting’ was actually how he talked with every woman, you made your peace with it.
But being here with him, watching him acting as if he loves you, as if you hung the moon and stars in the sky… Touching you as if you’re the most precious thing in the entire world, trying to be as close to you as possible (though still respecting your boundaries, just like he promised)... It was tearing you apart.
And you hated feeling so out of control of your own emotions.
“You okay?” Jack murmured after a couple more minutes of silence, doffing his hat to someone walking by. “You’re unusually quiet.”
You were sitting on his lap all stiff, trying to remember how to breathe, but it wasn’t easy with his hand on your thigh. His touch was soothing, as if he suspected how uncomfortable all of it was for you and wanted to help you relax, but for all you knew, he could be just looking for an excuse to feel you up.
“M’fine,” you answered, trying to ignore your closeness. “I can just sit next to you, y’know.”
“Never hurts to act a bit over-the-top,” he said, and then eyed you warily. “You’d better not be sayin’ that ‘cause of these women’s talks about ‘bein’ too heavy’. I’ll have you know, cutie pie, that these thighs are meant for a wilder rodeo than holdin’ a pretty little thing like you perched on ‘em.”
You ignored his frivolous remark. Jack waited a couple of seconds before he sighed and slowly leaned in, probably wanting it to seem like he was kissing your neck. But instead of his lips, you felt his hot breath on your skin, making you shiver.
“You look like a gazelle in a lion den, sugar,” he whispered worriedly, taking his eyes off of you to look around inconspicuously. “If anyone’s to believe that we’re a couple of lovebirds, you gotta stop acting like I’m holdin’ you hostage.”
“Easy for you to say.” You had to stop yourself from smacking his hand away from your leg. “You’re probably upset the mission doesn’t let you flirt with any of those women,” you said to draw the attention from your own emotions, but Whiskey just laughed quietly.
“Who said I’d want to? I have the most beautiful gal right here on my lap.” He sent you a wink. “Though she could be more handsy for ol’ Jack’s standards.”
You shook your head disapprovingly, but that didn’t discourage him, especially when he noticed a small smile on your face.
“I’m serious. Or as serious as you’re comfortable with me to be.” He smirked, the bastard, and glanced at you with his eyes half-lidded. “So what will it be, sugar? You have to do your part, too, no?”
As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. Ever since you got here, you were wary, avoiding his touch and teasing more often than not, while he didn’t have any problem with acting as if he was interested in you. You presumed it was nothing for him – he’d do a good job with any woman on his arm, but for you it was almost too painful to attempt.
But if you didn’t want to blow your cover, you had to get over yourself and your stupid heart.
“My part?” you repeated in a whisper, steeling yourself and lifting your hand to his face. Jack froze in place, his eyes wide when you hummed and stroked his cheek with your thumb. “How’s this for acting all lovesick, cowboy?”
“Uhm…” he cleared his throat. There was a hint of surprise and enjoyment in his eyes, but though he tried to hide it behind his usual mask of arrogance, you could also see that he was almost… nervous. “S’better, sunshine. You’d have m– anyone fooled.” You squinted, and then, as if the spell was broken, all the awkwardness disappeared from Jack’s face, and he took your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you an inch closer. “Though you could still learn a thin’ or two from your dashin’ lover.”
“Watch what you’re doing, Jack.”
“Oh, c’mon, I don’t mean anythin’ bad.” His hand squeezed your thigh just a little, making you tense. “Just a bit of harmless fun. Our target isn’t even here yet.”
“Talk quieter,” you hissed, but he just chuckled.
“Wanna shut me up, sugar?”
His smile was positively shit-eating, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. Jack always knew how much to push and prod at your usually composed self, all to rile you up just the right amount. Ginger told you several times that he hopes for your reaction and that’s why he’s doing it, but it didn’t change the fact that sometimes he was pissing you off so much that letting him win would be considered a dishonor.
You squared your shoulders and just as you predicted, Whiskey’s eyes strayed to your collarbone before snapping right back. You raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer, closer, closer… until you heard him inhale sharply.
Your chests were brushing against each other with every deep breath you took, but you didn’t pull back.
Harmless fun, he said?
Your fingers traveled up to the collar of his shirt, fixing it a little, and then slid down his chest. His heart was pounding under your palm, and finding this out brought you a lot of satisfaction, so you took it to the next level and whispered sweetly:
“Please shut up, or I’ll act out a messy breakup and you will have to explain yourself to Champ.”
Before you fully grasped what you were doing, your teeth grazed his earlobe gently, eliciting a low groan out of the agent. His arm around your waist tightened, and that’s what finally brought you back to reality.
In an instant you pulled away from each other. Your neck was hot with embarrassment at your sudden boldness, but at least you achieved your goal – Jack looked completely stunned and, for once, speechless.
Both of you stared at each other for a few moments before Jack mustered a tight smile and nodded.
“Gotta say, uh…” Your eyes met briefly again, and he swallowed heavily, all his bravado leaving him. “Actually, ‘scuse me for a sec.”
Not paying attention to your bewildered expression, he stood up, almost causing you to fall to the floor. His name died on your lips when he fixed his tie and turned around, heading to the restrooms.
It was so unlike him to act this way, that you started to worry you crossed some boundary even someone like agent Whiskey didn’t dare to approach.
You behaved unexpectedly, yes, but was it a reason enough for him to leave like that?
“Looks like my date isn’t the only one who bailed.”
With the strange voice came a man you didn’t recognize, but who sat down right next to you with way too much confidence for your liking. It took you a second to realize he was talking about Jack, and you summoned a small smile.
“Oh, no, no. He just went to the restroom.” You waved your hand in the general direction. “He didn’t leave leave.”
“Then perhaps you won’t mind me keeping you company?” The man – tall, blonde and in a damn expensive suit – offered his hand for you to shake. “My name’s Jacob.”
Jacob? Was it the same Jacob that supposedly planned to seal some dark deal during the reception tomorrow?
You opened your mouth, but before you could ask about his last name – or offer him yours, for that matter – he continued. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, sweetheart. Are you a friend of someone here?”
“Lillian’s old friend, actually.” That was the name of the maid of honor, the same one who had some connections with Champ and notified him about this whole business. “But I came a day before to see the city with my boyfriend.”
“Your boyfriend…” He nodded to the side with his eyebrows raised. “The Southern Sam?”
“That’s funny, cause his name actually is Sam,” you attempted to make a joke for Jacob to lower his guard, which seemed to have worked.
“And how long have you been together?”
Was that an interview? “Almost two years, why?”
“I’m asking ‘cause I saw the cowboy chatting with some ladies at the bar before.” He gave you a fake sympathetic look. “And you were nowhere to be seen.”
You knew about it, of course – Jack tried to get some information out of the singles gossiping at the minibar, but other than an offer for a ‘time of his life’, he couldn’t drag anything useful out of them. But still, Jacob was clearly looking for a reason to make you doubt your boyfriend’s intentions, so you went with it.
“What?” You changed your voice to be softer, and looked over your shoulder. “Oh… well, I’m sure it was nothing.”
“Sorry to say, babydoll, but it didn’t seem like it.”
Jacob shifted closer, now making you really uncomfortable, but you were careful not to let it show. He placed his hand on your thigh and draped the other arm over the back of your chair, sending you a flirtatious smile.
“But just to let you know, if, let’s say… things don’t work out with your cowboy, I have a beautiful mansion not far from here that I’d love to show you. There’s some things I have to take care of tomorrow, but after that…”
He trailed off, and his eyes suddenly strayed above your shoulder. You felt another, stronger arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer, and when you lifted your gaze, you were met with Jack’s brown eyes, full of well-hidden anger.
“Hi there, buttercup. Who’s your new friend?”
Though his tone sounded friendly, you knew it was anything but. You smiled tightly and turned to him.
“Sam, this is Jacob,” you said, giving the former a pointed look to let him know you’re in the middle of handling the latter. But the older agent seemingly didn’t take the hint and narrowed his eyes at their target. “We were just getting to know each other.”
“Well, hate to interrupt your chat, but I’ve got somethin’ I wanted to show ya, darlin’.”
Your eyes popped when you heard him, not believing that Jack was really sabotaging your work like that. But he didn’t back down, keeping his stare cold and hard.
“I think I’ll stay here,” you answered dryly. “We can talk later.”
“We’re talkin’ now,” he doubled down, tightening his hold on your waist. You glared at him angrily but before you could say something you’d regret, Jacob butted in.
“Maybe I should take my leave for now,” he said with a charming smile and winked in your direction. “I’ll see you later, doll.”
You watched in frustration as he walked away, and then faced Jack with barely concealed anger, but he didn’t even look your way.
“Found the conference hall,”he just murmured before standing up. “Follow me.”
An irritated huff was the only answer he received. You did as he asked, however, deciding to give him a piece of your mind in a more secluded location.
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“So I think this is the place,” Jack said, stepping slowly around the table. He guided you through a closed off section of the building where you definitely shouldn’t be, stopping in a big, though quite narrow, room. “Had to break down the lock at the door, a pretty sturdy one. I reckon we plant the bug under one of the chairs and maybe somewhere on the other side, but I wanted to get a second opinion–”
“Aren’t we gonna talk about what happened there?” you interrupted him, crossing your arms over your chest. Whiskey paused and looked at you with his brow raised.
“What happened where?”
“With Jacob. What the fuck was that about, Jack?”
“You really wanna talk about this now?” he asked in response, but your unwavering stare spoke for itself, and he threw his arms in the air. ”Fine. Damn me for lookin’ out for ya.”
“He was eating out of my hand, and you blew it!” you accused him, which made him clench his jaw.
“If you didn’t notice, he was gettin’ way too close an’ personal–”
“He’s our target, Jack! The mission is to get close to him.”
Whiskey huffed and turned around, shaking his head. He adjusted his hat, angling it in a way so you couldn’t see his eyes anymore. “Look, sugar, I know the mission’s important and all that jackal’s shit, but we– you don’t need to let the bastard feel ya up to get the information outta him.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?” you cocked your eyebrow, not believing him. “It’s my job, Whiskey.”
“Still–”
“And besides, it’s none of your business! What if I don’t mind it?”
He did look at you in that moment, with a gaze so cool and dark that it caused your confidence and resolve to waver. His face, so harsh in its beauty, looked like it was carved out of a block of marble as he slowly strode forward, walking around the long table. Not for one second he took his brown eyes off of you, and you had to resist the urge to hold your breath.
Jack was rarely someone who could be considered ‘intimidating’. Goofy, arrogant, smartmouth – sure. But not intimidating.
But agent Whiskey… Agent Whiskey was a different story altogether.
“S’that so?” he murmured lowly, making your insides tighten at the timbre of his voice. “I didn’t realize my girlfriend is the sort to throw herself into the arms of the first man she meets.”
“Don’t forget yourself,” you scoffed, done with his theatrics. “We’re not together.”
“Jacob thinks so,” he shot back, stepping into your personal space and – to your irritation – forcing you to take a step back. “And now he’ll think I’m neglectin’ a gem like you.”
“So that’s what it’s about!” A short, dry laugh fell from your lips, and you rolled your eyes. “It’s all about Jack Daniels’ precious, fragile pride that some stranger will think you’re not the sex god and womanizer you think you are.”
“I’ve no clue what you’re blabberin’ ‘bout, pumpkin.” That bastard dared to smirk, his chest colliding with yours when you refused to move away from him again. “Sam Brooks is a very faithful and attentive boyfriend.”
“Oh, screw you.”
“And…” he continued, ignoring you. “He doesn’t wanna see any chowderhead’s hands on his girl. Mission or no mission.”
“You’re forgetting yourself,” you shot back with a pang of both irritation and electricity from the way he said ‘his girl’. “This is an act and… and besides, who do you think you are to be telling me that?!” His expression didn’t change and it made the flames of your rage burst higher. “It’s you who has a reputation of jumping at every chance to fuck any female target–!”
The man in front of you moved abruptly, quickly as a whip he was so proficient with, and though your training prepared you for such situations, you still didn’t manage to block his palm from covering your mouth. His head was turned to the side, but returned to its previous position when you smacked his hand away with an angry huff and pushed him strongly.
“What is wrong with you?!”
“Shh!”
“Don’t shush me, asshole! You started it, so now–”
“For cryin’ out loud, shut it!” he hissed, lifting his hand to signal you to be quiet. He tilted his head again and held his breath, waiting. And then you heard it.
Someone was in the corridor, from the sound of it opening and closing the doors to every room one at the time.
You and Jack looked at each other.
“We need to get outta here, sunshine.”
You had to save your argument for later, but the quick search soon showed that the door you came through was the only exit route. There were no windows in the room – a sought-after thing when you don’t want anyone to spy on your shady deals, you supposed – or even any nooks and crannies one could hide in. You were screwed.
“Fuck!” Jack hissed, quietly going back to you from searching around the conference room. “We’re trapped like a pair of mice under the cat’s tail!”
The echo of footsteps was getting louder, more frantic, and you raked your brain about what to do to appear the least suspicious if someone were to nail you in the area you absolutely should not be.
Beside you, Jack sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a moment, before quickly shrugging his jacket off. Then he unbuttoned two of his shirt’s buttons and walked up to you, forcing you to draw back until your back hit the wall behind you.
“What the hell are you–”
“You’re gonna hate me even more, and m’really sorry,” he cut you off hurriedly and apologetically. You shot him a furious, questioning look, which turned to total confusion when he took off his hat and placed it on your head, ruffling his own hair. “Just go with it, sugar.”
The door on the other side of the room creaked, but you didn’t have a chance to turn your head because right in that moment Jack crashed his lips to yours, kissing you with such passion that it stole the breath away from your lungs. It took you a few seconds to get over your surprise, but you quickly understood what his plan was.
It was wrong and you could still come up with another way to distract whoever was at the door, but if you were honest… you didn't want to.
With the first fiery caress of Jack Daniel’s lips, it became clear to you that his touch was extremely addicting, and as improper as it was, you were already starving for more. It briefly crossed your mind to push him away, because that is not how you imagined this evening to go, but… you had to admit, this was a good idea for a distraction.
And probably your only chance to kiss this handsome, maddening cowboy.
So you reciprocated, your hands grabbing him by his clothes roughly, and poured into the kiss all the longing and feelings you had for your fellow agent, and which you tried to contain all evening. You let it all out.
Jack didn’t waste any time, and the second you returned the kiss, he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up, pressing you harder against the wall and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The moan you let out was swallowed by his mouth, and he continued to kiss and caress you like a man starved, like he planned to devour you whole.
And maybe it was the alcohol you consumed, or maybe just that infatuation you never fully suppressed, but you didn’t fight your own desire to be as close to him as possible. You used to fantasize about wiping that stupid smirk off Jack’s face by stealing the breath out of him, but you never imagined how wonderful it’d feel.
God, the noises he was making when you tugged on his hair… the feeling of his hands on your bare thighs… and his mouth. On your lips, on your neck and collarbone, kissing every inch of your skin like there’s no tomorrow… Nothing could ever prepare you for how much you wanted him to keep going, to–
You pretty much forgot the reason this make-out session even started, and your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you heard someone clearing their throat pointedly.
Jack’s lips left yours in an instant and you had to stop yourself from pulling him back by the material of his shirt, your head still dizzy from what just happened. Instead you turned to the door, your nerves dying down when you saw a young and clearly uncomfortable man.
“Uhm, apologies,” he spoke up with a nervous smile. “Have any of you seen two little girls running around?”
He sounded sincere, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t calm down your pounding heart. Jack was still holding you up and for a second you worried that he’s going to drop you, but he supported your weight without breaking a sweat.
“No, buddy. Sorry,” your partner answered, and the man nodded.
“Alright… It’s just, they’re wrapping up the party for today, but my daughters ran off somewhere.” His eyes shifted to you and your bare thighs, the material of your dress rolled up where Jack had his hands on you. Before you could become embarrassed, the lost dad coughed again. “Uhm, the staff asked everyone to leave in the next half an hour, so… just so you know. Bye.”
The door quickly shut behind him, slamming a little too loudly in the sudden silence. The shame at being caught – and at your own eagerness to what Jack did  – only now came crashing down on you. You didn’t want to face him, but knew it was inevitable.
Jack’s eyes were already on you, with his pupils blown wide. His expression showed the same desire as the one scorching your insides, the same unwillingness to pull away from you, but the special moment you shared was long gone. After ten seconds of silence, he cleared his throat and gently set you down. Your arms and chest felt cold without his body pressed against yours.
Whiskey sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. You slowly took his hat off your head, holding it in front of you awkwardly, and waited for him to speak.
And finally, Jack hung his head low and cursed under his breath. You watched in confusion as he turned to you, stuck his cheek forward and closed his eyes.
“Smack me.”
That was not what you expected him to say. “...what?”
“Smack me,” he repeated with confident readiness, not moving an inch. “I deserve it.”
“No,” you said, totally confused. “I’m not gonna hit you. You did it… only so we wouldn’t get caught…” Jack’s shoulders slumped, making you hesitate. “...right?”
“It’s not just that,” he spoke up quietly, opening his eyes but not looking at you. “If you knew, sugar… the things I did to–”
He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head at the words coming out of his mouth, but the sound wasn’t joyous at all. He ran his hand down his face, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the motion of his thumb wiping the edge of his bottom lip.
“You were s’pposed to be paired with Tequila.”
This one sentence, which seemingly came out of nowhere, just made you even more confused. “Jack, I don’t underst–”
“I asked to go on this mission with you,” he repeated louder, looking almost irritated that he had to explain it to you. “Practically begged, like a damn fool. Tequila was s’pposed to be your partner, but I couldn’t… That is, didn’t want to…”
Whiskey let out another breathless chuckle, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I’m gonna sound like the most selfish asshole, though that’s probably not far from whatcha actually think of me…”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.” You went around him to look him solemnly in the eyes, but he avoided your gaze. “Just tell me, what do you mean by all that?”
“Look, darlin’, I’ve no clue what I wanted to achieve,” he spat with annoyance, as if it was your fault he wasn’t making any sense. “I just fuckin’ knew I didn’t want to see Tequila or any other agent act all lovey-dovey with ya, hold your hand and maybe…” he choked up suddenly, his gaze softening, “...maybe kiss you.”
Your eyes were wide and your mind struggled to comprehend what all of it meant, but Jack didn’t even give you a second to gather your thoughts.
“To be clear, I didn’t plan on that.” He gestured towards the wall against which you were pressed just a few minutes ago, and you understood he’s talking about the unexpected kiss. “I might be a dickhead, but it wasn’t all some grand scheme to suck faces with ya. I wasn’t thinkin’ in that moment.”
Oh.
Why did his last words hurt you more than anything else he said? Your thoughts kept circling back to the passionate kiss you two shared, and it didn’t seem to you like Jack was acting at that moment. Or just achieving a goal he pursued. It felt like he lost control. Just like you did.
But you knew now that you didn’t hate it. What about him, though?
“It wasn’t?” you asked after a few seconds of silence. Jack furrowed his brows, to which you clarified: “A grand scheme to get into my pants. It… wasn’t?”
“Fuck. No, f’course not.” The sigh that escaped him was so heavy with guilt and suffering, you could almost feel it in the air between you both. “It must be obvious t’ya that I find you attractive, sugar, and… I love talkin’ with ya. You’re sharp, funny, pretty as a peach, and I really… really wanted to do it right this time. Show myself from a better side, but…” He took a deep breath, then exhaled unevenly. “I blew it.”
He locked eyes with you, and smiled lopsidedly, but there were no emotions in the gesture.
“So I reckon y’know now why I deserve this smack. Probably not just one, but…” He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. “C’mon, sweetheart. Bet it’ll feel better for both of us.”
You realized that, yes, Jack was really ready for you to slap him – because that, according to himself, was what he deserved. And maybe on another day, you’d even considered it. But after what you’ve been through tonight and after accepting that the feelings you harbored for the older agent never truly disappeared, you didn’t want to do that. You just needed to kiss him again.
So that’s what you did.
It wasn’t a confident display of affection. More like a shy, light brush of your lips against his, which almost immediately came to a halt when Jack pulled away, looking at you with wide, shocked eyes.
It must’ve been evident on your face, though, that you were equally – if not even more – terrified than him. You gulped and took a step back, but he caught your wrist before that could happen. His eyes were still unsure, but so bright and hopeful, it gave you a boost of confidence you desperately needed.
Jack liked you, you reminded yourself as you went in for a second kiss, which this time he eagerly reciprocated and melted into. He was jealous, you thought as your tongues naturally met and entwined.
He wanted you.
When you parted, breathless from adrenaline, and your lips swollen from the intensity of his kisses, his eyes stayed closed. You waited for any sign of regret on his face, but saw none, only raw wonder.
“I think you smacked me too hard,” he murmured, his eyes darting behind his closed eyelids in a weirdly adorable way. “M’pretty sure I’m hallucinatin’.”
“You’re such a dumbass,” you chuckled while shaking your head, and Jack snorted. “Now open your eyes and look at me.”
He obeyed, and a big grin spread on his face the second he laid his eyes on you. He drank in your bright smile and happy expression, and you let him – that is, for only a moment before you jabbed him in the ribs with your finger, causing him to grunt in pain.
“I like you, too, cowboy. Against all common sense.”
“Thank god for the bats in your belfry, then.” You scowled and scrunched your nose in a fake offense, but he just laughed. Then, very tenderly, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes warm and soft like never before. “You’re cute as a speckled pup, you know that?”
“I think you’re the lovesick puppy here.”
“Technicalities,” Jack murmured before leaning down to claim your mouth in a gentle kiss. You’ve never thought he could be so tender, and immediately longed for more of this side of him – but too soon, he pulled away, gracing you with that smirk of his you always found so irresistible. “I was thinkin’...”
“That would be the first.” Jack shot you a warning glance at that, and you yelped when he smacked your butt lightly. “You’re so fucking lucky I like you.”
“And I can’t fuckin’ wait to shut you up,” he whispered, making you giggle at the clear fondness in his tone. “As I was sayin’, I think we have a king-size bed waiting for us in our shared room.” Your face split into a wide smile, and Jack shrugged nonchalantly. “All to keep up appearances, of course.”
You tugged forcefully on his shirt and claimed his lips again, but in a deeper, more heated kiss this time. A sound similar to a growl escaped Jack’s chest, and one of his hands found its place in your hair while the other one squeezed your butt lightly. You couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth, which caused a similar smile to spread across his face.
“We wouldn’t want anyone to suspect we’re just playing pretend, right?”
His response was immediate.
“Of course not, sugar.”
353 notes · View notes
megamindsecretlair · 1 month
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Good day, good day! I've been thinking about this for a while, and now I'm just like, yes, we need it! 😏 Can you pretty please write a follow up to my favorite Franklin Saint fic you wrote recently? A Hold On You. I feel like we need something where either the reader is heavily preggo or already had the baby and like the reader predicted, doesn't like the new body. But our boy Frank comes through with that reassurance he promised. 🙌🏾😌
A/N: Le sigh, I am so, so, so sorry this took forever! I know there's no rush to these things but this has been staring me in the face for sooo long LOL. I hope this was worth the wait!
A Hold On You, Pt. 2
Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, Angst, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), spanking, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink and breeding kink. Fluffy smut. Established relationship.
Summary: Taking place between season 4 and season 5, Franklin toys with the idea of legacy and keeping the people he loves in his life. Months into your pregnancy, your previous worries get the better of you. Luckily, Franklin is there to kiss it all away.
Word Count: 3,424k
Part 1
A/N: I keep feeling like Franklin gets pushed by the wayside. It's not intentional, season 6 just really still affects me LOL. But I will get over that! Also trying to clean up some of these requests ya'll got for me. I love ya'll so much! Please, consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I don't tag empty blogs.
Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @nerdieforpedro @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @iv0rysoap
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You stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom. Steam from the shower receded slowly from the mirror, revealing your visage inch by inch. You stared at your body. Well, more importantly, you stared at your tummy. 
It was beginning to protrude. Leave it to Franklin to get you pregnant that same night. No sooner had you realized that your period was late than did your sensitive stomach turn on you. Already it was trying to purge the invasion. 
Okay, that wasn’t fair. You were truly happy that you were pregnant. You knew no matter what, that Franklin would be a good father. Nothing like his own that he refused to talk about most days. They were at a tentative truce. But it seemed like they were on thin ice and the slightest thing could break it.
You rubbed your belly, planting your hand over your stomach. You could not picture your child. Did that make you a bad mother? 
You pursed your lips as you turned from side to side, looking at your naked body from all kinds of different angles. Shouldn’t you have an inkling? An idea? You and Franklin hadn’t decided on names yet. Wasn’t that something you should have by now? Was there a rulebook to this sort of thing?
Tears stung your eyes as you thought over everything that could go wrong. How dangerous Franklin’s life was. His enemies were yours now. Franklin had to look over both of your shoulders to ensure that you were safe enough to walk across the street.
How could you bring someone into this type of life? How could you possibly agree to gamble with your child’s life? 
Horrible, ugly shame filled you as the tears flowed more freely. Being pregnant sucked! Your fucking nipples ached all the damn time. You were gassy now, that was fun. And whoever was in there would likely run circles around you because you were starting to get sleepy all the damn time. 
You sank to the edge of the bathtub and let the tears fall. That was another fun side effect. You cried at the drop of a hat. You cried because you looked funny, cute, beautiful, or fat. You cried because you wanted cookies n’ cream ice cream but Franklin got you rocky road. You cried because you felt guilty for making him go back to the store to get you what you actually wanted. 
These hormonal changes were driving you nuts. What was worse was that Franklin was gone more often than he stayed at home. All you had were nameless bodyguards that stayed outside your place twenty-four seven. 
You felt alone. 
The tears began in earnest. Big, fat crocodile tears that spilled down your freshly washed cheeks. Droplets landed on your thighs and you rubbed your belly. What did you do?
“Babe?” Franklin called out. 
You sniffled and wiped your tears, getting up to close the bathroom door. You ran some water to try and hide your tears. On top of everything that Franklin was dealing with, he did not need to deal with his hormonal, pregnant girlfriend. 
Franklin knocked on the door. “Babe? You okay in there?” He asked.
“Fine! Just got out the shower!” You called back. Did your voice wobble? Did you sound like you had been crying? 
Franklin twisted the knob and opened the door. You sighed, looking away from him in the mirror. Franklin was immediately by your side, lifting your chin and pulling you close.
“What’s wrong?” He asked. He turned off the water in the sink and rubbed your arms. 
You hadn’t realized how cold you were sitting in the bathroom. Tears had a way of warming your face and drowning everything else out. Pressure and snot was not a good look on you and it hurt even worse. 
“Nothing, I’m fine,” you said. You accepted Franklin’s embrace even though you couldn’t get your mouth to move. To tell him what was bothering you. You could have his baby, but you couldn’t tell him what was bothering you? 
Franklin pulled back and looked at your face. “Got another craving? I’ll get it, just tell me what it is,” he said. 
“I’m so ugly,” you whined. You sounded like such a baby, but it was true. You didn’t recognize your own body. It was a chamber now for your baby. You were doing everything right but it was hard to feel sexy knowing that there was precious life growing inside of you.
It’d likely be even worse after the baby was born. While it ripped everything from you on the way out. And then you’d have to breastfeed it and watch it and worry over it for the rest of your natural born days. 
“What? Why would you say that?” He tried to pull you closer but you were fighting him. You needed space, time to think. The damage had already been done but you still had months to get used to this new life. This new adjustment to your routine. 
You didn’t regret having his baby. You only regretted that you hadn’t thought it through more fully. Really understood the consequences of opening your legs and letting Franklin have his wicked way with you. 
Franklin let you fight him but he was an immovable rock. He planted his feet and stood his ground trying to catch your eyes. You looked everywhere but at him. 
“Hey, hey, talk to me. Please? Why would you say that?” 
“Because I am. I’m fat and gross,” you pouted. 
Franklin sighed. “Naw, baby. You’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he said. He kissed your cheeks. You fought him on that too. You felt so horrible. Like a caged animal needing a release. A break. An escape from the torment of your thoughts. 
You shook your head and wiped your tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just got the mumps,” you said.
Franklin pressed kisses to your forehead, both of your eyelids, and your lips. He kept kissing your face until you relaxed in his arms. That, at least, hadn’t changed. You felt safe in his arms. Warm. 
When your shoulders finally dropped from your ears, Franklin turned you so that you faced the mirror. He wrapped his arms around your tummy, hands flexing over your stomach and linking his fingers together. He was already protecting his baby. The thought brought fresh tears to your eyes. You could fill a pool with how many tears you’ve shed over the past few weeks. 
Franklin’s chin dropped to your shoulder and he looked at you in the mirror. He smiled softly. “I wish you could see you as I do. You are nothing but beautiful to me. Strong. Look at this sexy ass body,” he said.
He swayed you from side to side as if dancing to a slow song in his head. You tilted your head. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you said. You sniffled and tried to lean away to reach for a tissue, but Franklin wasn’t letting you go.
His fingers lightly rubbed your tummy. His rocking was strangely soothing. Melodic even though there was no music to guide you. His eyes never left yours in the mirror. 
“So? Don’t make it not true. Didn’t I say that this belly would look sexy getting bigger? And these titties? Shit, you lucky I am suckin’ on them thangs all day long,” he said.
You giggled despite your commitment to stubbornness. Your mouth twitched as you tried to suppress more giggles. He did not need encouragement for his corny ass lines. 
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you told him.
“I ain’t doin’ shit but making sure my two babies are okay. I ain’t gon’ lie and pretend I know what’s going on. But you gotta talk to me when you feel like this,” he said. “I can’t help you if you shut me out.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” you told him. He shouldn’t. You always had a handle on your emotions. A way of feeling them but not letting them control you. Not by much. It took a long time for you to get here and you’d be damned if you let Mother Nature control you.
“I just get down sometimes, Franklin,” you said. 
Franklin nodded and smiled. “ I know. And you shouldn’t have to be down alone. I know this is big. This is big for the both of us. I didn’t think we’d get it on the first try,” he said with a smile. 
You rolled your eyes. He was pretty damn proud of that fact. Told anyone who would listen that he was successful the first time. His parents were naturally excited. None more so than Cissy. She was too giddy at the prospect of having a grandchild. 
“You are a mess,” you told him. 
Franklin’s smile grew bigger, giving you a glimpse of the Franklin you knew before. The one who smiled quicker and didn’t hide behind walls in his mind. Trying to keep everything so close to the vest. 
Franklin kissed your shoulder, lips lingering a second too long. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You’re only sexier carrying my baby. These hips? Hmm. Just wanna squeeze the fuck outta them,” he said.
You rolled your eyes and sighed. Your tears dried up as you looked at Franklin. At the raw hunger in his eyes. You may feel ugly, but you were far from it in his eyes. 
Franklin moved his hands from your tummy to cup your ass. He jiggled the globes in his hands, grabbing as much of it as he could. “This ass! If you only knew how bricked up I am all day thinking of this ass ridin’ me,” he said.
“Franklin!” You turned around to look him in the eye. His hands stayed on your body as you turned and they landed around your waist. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your belly. 
“You have made me the happiest man alive. There is no one else I’d rather share this with,” he said. He leaned down and kissed you, taking his time to explore your mouth. The kiss was slow and lazy. You had all the time in the world to kiss him and he took every last second of it. He’d retreat and return just as quickly as if he were starving for your kisses. 
You wrapped your hands around his shoulder and pulled him closer. He rubbed against your belly and you drew back, staring at the damn thing like a traitor. Already getting in the way of your life. Already taking up space.
You sighed. There was just no way to get around this. No way to pull you out of this funk. 
Franklin only lifted your chin. He stared into your eyes for a second, a minute, possibly an hour and your bottom lip started to quiver. He only smiled patiently and returned to kissing you. 
You sighed into his mouth. Where the hell did you find someone like him? Someone that didn’t balk at your panic attacks? Or these new hormones? He’d seen you during Hell week. This was that but amplified. Your body was foreign to you now. You grew up with this body. You suffered through puberty with this body. You and this body had been down a rocky, twisted, and convoluted path to self-love. And now you were sharing it.
Franklin’s hands kneaded your doughy flesh around your hips, getting softer over time. He kissed a hot trail down your jaw, neck, and towards your chest. His lips teased around your sensitive nipple and you hissed, jerking away from him.
“They’re really fuckin’ sensitive right now,” you said.
“Oh really?” He asked. He smiled, holding your gaze as he moved his head once more to lick and suckle around your nipples. Your legs instantly went weak. Your nipples were still fuckin’ sensitive, made worse by his playful teasing, but it also felt too good. His warm mouth felt deliciously painful on your titties and you were sighing and whimpering in the bathroom before long.
Your moans echoed off of the tile in the bathroom. Your soft sighs filled in the empty areas and his suckling grew louder, reaching a crescendo that you matched with cries of pleasure. 
“Franklin!” You half-yelled and half-moaned. 
Franklin went to your other nipple, giving it as much attention. You hissed. So much for your shower. You were growing wetter by the second from his teasing alone. As if sensing that, like the mu’fucka had a nose for it, his hand glided down your side until his fingers teased your clit.
You jerked in his arms and he hummed in appreciation. “Hmm, so fuckin’ wet already,” he whispered against your chest. 
“How can you stand here like a goddess and not expect me to worship at your feet? To appreciate this precious gift you’re giving me? I know I been away, I’ll work on that the deeper we get into this. I want to be here for everything.”
“And I want you to know that I found you sexy when I first met you. I found you sexy when you agreed to be mine. I found you sexy when we found out you were pregnant with my baby. And I find you sexy now. Every day I find more and more things to love about you.” 
“Franklin, please,” you sighed. You could not handle him being this damn cute while sucking on your nipples and his fingers playing with your clit. 
“Do you believe me?” He asked.
“Huh?” You asked. If he moved his fingers just a little to the side, you could cum. You felt an approaching orgasm. Your knees were turning to jelly. You were so, so close.
“Do you believe that I find you sexy? That I fall more in love with you every day?” He asked. 
You nodded. “I know you do, Franklin,” you said. “I just forget sometimes.”
“Well, then, I’ll have to keep reminding you. And keep reminding you. And…” Franklin lifted his head from your nipples as he moved his fingers to flick over your clit. You gripped his arms and shook, the bathroom turning hazy as your eyes rolled. 
“Fr-F-” You were trying to warn him. To let him know that you were close, but he already knew. He kissed you, tongue licking your lips before you allowed him inside. Allowed your tongues to mesh and play with each other.
He smiled against your lips as you finally cried out, crying out your release. You slumped against him as you finished and he gently continued to play with your clit. 
Franklin grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bedroom. You giggled trailing after him. He held your hands while you sat on the bed. You were pleasantly wet, feeling the squishy essence in between your legs.
Franklin wasted no time getting naked. You watched him with a smile dancing on your lips at how beautiful he was. Did he have a clue? Did he come close to understanding what you felt for him?
“You make me so happy, Franklin,” you told him. 
Franklin shed the last of his clothes and stepped closer with a big grin. His grin was infectious, causing one to split your face in two. Cheeks aching from the strength of love pouring from your veins. 
“You make me happy too, babe. I don’t ever want you to doubt how beautiful you are. If you do, let me know. I’ll sort that shit out,” he said.
You giggled as his lips returned to yours, joining you on the bed. He settled onto his back and then pulled you to straddle his hardening length. You bit your lip, a bit of shyness creeping in. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before. That he hadn’t seen everything about you and kept coming back for seconds. 
Things were different now. Everything changed. But Franklin didn’t let you wallow. He encouraged you to sit in his lap. 
It took some wiggling and a lot of guidance on his part since you couldn’t see his length past your belly. Once the tip of him grazed your wet entrance, the shyness left your body.
You moaned as you sank onto his dick, gliding down until he was fully seated inside of you. Your hands braced yourself on his chest as you acclimated to his size. He wasn’t huge, but he stretched you plenty. 
Your eyes were closed, reorienting yourself with the feel of him inside you. God, you missed this. You had sex in the beginning but your morning sickness was awful. You couldn’t keep shit down. Everything smelled and crackers tasted like cardboard. 
You sighed as Franklin rubbed your hips and your back. “Feel good, baby?” Franklin asked. 
“Yes, baby,” you moaned.
“You look good, baby,” he said. You looked down in time to see his gorgeous smile. Franklin was playing with the idea of a beard. It was coming in nicely. Framing his face and making him look older and wiser. Sexier. Like a dad already. A dad you’d like to fuck. 
You smiled at your own little joke. “Thank you, Daddy,” you said.
“Go on and get yours then,” he said. He smacked your ass with his hand, leaving a ghost-hot sting behind that made you hiss and look at him with mischief. If he wanted to play…
You slowly grinded on his dick, rolling your hips back and forth. Franklin licked his lips and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked down to where you were joined. 
You continued the slow roll, getting him used to that before you started bouncing in earnest. “OH shit,” he moaned. 
You grinned and kept bouncing, up and down on the entire length of his dick. He hissed and rolled his hips in tune with yours until you were matching each other perfectly. In sync as only you two could be. 
His hands gripped your hips. You didn’t know if you were bouncing on him now or if he was pulling you down on his dick. Either way, you were both speed-running towards that beautiful peak. Hand in hand, racing forward faster and further until you were both screaming out an orgasm. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chanted.
“Shit, oh fuck,” Franklin roared. 
Sweat rolled down your back. You leaned forward so you could kiss Franklin. Your kisses were sloppy, jerky, as you rode out your orgasm. Some unknown force took over, unable to help yourself from continuing even though you were too over the moon. Too far gone. 
Maybe this was what he felt like when he kept going even after you came. That driving need to stay connected, stay buried in each other. Your hips kept rolling until you were too weak and spent to keep going. Your legs finally giving out as you collapsed on top of him. 
Franklin groaned and rolled you over until you were beneath him now. He slipped out and you licked your dry lips, turning your head to the side. You did not want to stop, but you were out of breath. In danger of passing out altogether.
You never experienced a mutual orgasm before. It was usually one after the other. Like a gentleman, Franklin always made sure you came first. Sometimes multiple times before he allowed himself to climax. 
Franklin gave your tummy multiple kisses. Every inch of skin was covered with his lips. He laid prayer after prayer into your skin. 
For the first time all day, you felt beautiful. You felt loved. You felt like the most gorgeous woman on the planet. 
“I love you, Noodle,” he said, calling your baby by the nickname you agreed on. You didn’t know why, it just felt like a Noodle, nestled in there. 
Your heart swelled, seeing his face as he continued to kiss your stomach. You rubbed his head as he continued talking to Noodle telling it how he was going to protect it, love it, cherish it, and that it had the best mom on the planet. 
Tears prickled your eyes for entirely different reasons and you tried to blink them away but couldn’t. Franklin kissed up your stomach and couldn’t resist a final lick and tug on your overly sensitive nipples. 
When he reached your mouth, he smiled and kissed you. He sighed into your mouth. “I love you, baby,” he said.
“I love you even more, Franklin.”
THE END
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The Secret Franklin Saint Files | Part 1
100 notes · View notes
i4bellingham · 1 year
Text
MORE THAN JUST AN INTERLUDE: pedri x reader
SYNOPSIS: in which a relationship thought to be a fleeting moment lasted for more than they'll ever know.
CONTENT: incorporated with a slight social media au! + obsessive hateful fan speaking shit. conversations are in (google translated) spanish and english + gavi being an adorable child + innuendos by pedri :’p / also NOT PROOFREAD please don’t sue me. read part two here
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pedri
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❤️ 💭 ↗️       • •
Liked by gavi, alejandrobalde and 1,768,923 others
pedri el más feliz contigo. feliz aniversario mi amor. the happiest with you. happy anniversary my love.
tagged: yourusername
View all 13,901 comments
user1 wait what- one year ???? 😧
user2 y'all been together for one year i-
user3 remembering the days where your fans thought this was just a fling 😭 you guys are celebrating one year with each other now congrats 😭❤️
gavi happy anniversary!
fcbarcelona sending love to you and yourusername ❤️
user4 another month now and you'll break up anyways 😐
user5 shut yo stanky ass
user4 let's bffr here besties they're not gonna last ☺️
user6 user4 and this is why your father left you, your mom hates you, you failed school and you're single meanwhile yourusername is here living the absolute best of life 🤷🏻‍♀️
   
yourusername
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❤️ 💭 ↗️       • •
Liked by jamalmusiala10, neymar, pedri and 195,986 others
yourusername here's to many more small midnight talks about life with you. happy anniversary bebe ❤️
tagged: pedri
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_rl9 never let the haters ruin such a beautiful relationship!
pedri never
gavi the second picture is when you text him and his focus is not with us anymore :/
yourusername i always tell him to stop texting me when he's out with you guys though ☹️
gavi i know, pedri just doesn't listen because he's annoying like that
yourusername say sorry pedri :/
yourfriend1 happiest anniversary to you both! ❤️❤️
pedri i love you
yourusername i love you more
pedri i love you the most
yourusername i love you more than most
pedri i love you so much that no words could ever describe to which extent
alejandrobalde pedri we get it man 😃 (anyways happy anniversary yourusername)
gavi pedri simp (i don't know if i used that word correct)
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Pedri was still high on adrenaline when he was whisked away for an interview just after their game.
His football jersey clung onto his skin in an uncomfortable but familiar hug with grimes and sweat all over his body. If people looked closely, they'd find small specks of dirt on his cheeks from the amount of time he tried intercepting a ball pass from the opposing team. He still looked good nonetheless, not that he needed someone to remind him that as he stood carefree in front of the multiple camera shooting his every angle as he waits for the first question to pop up.
“So... what a game huh?” The reporter chucklesㅡ for what reason, Pedri doesn't know but he simply chuckles alongside him. “How do you think of your performance today Pedri? And how do you think that contributed to the win tonight?”
Pedri scratches his nose bridge, then placing both hands over his waist as he takes a lean back to keep the mic near from his lips.
“I think this is one of the best games that I’ve played entering this season. I think that defensively I’ve gotten a lot of progress and it showed in this game tonightㅡ but I believe there is still room for improvement. I think that I had made a few bad calls during the game as well so I’ll definitely look into that as to not make the same mistakes again but overall, I’m pretty satisfied and happy with how my performance played out tonight and contributed to our team’s win.”
The reporter nods his head behind the camera, seemingly impressed at the response he got from one of Barcelona’s golden boys.
“Any celebrations happening tonight for this big win? For another 3 points on the board?”
Pedri smiles but he shakes his head. “No, the guys will get into that but I will be celebrating something else tonight, this is a special day for me and for my girlfriend after all so I just want to spend this night with her.”
“Speaking of girlfriend...” The reporter trails off, flicking through his card with a teasing glint and smile on his face as he follows through with his statement. “It’s your guys’ anniversary today yes? Made quite a lasting impression on Twitter, this one.”
Pedri nods his head, eyes steering away from the media crew momentarily when his eyes catches a familiar figure walking towards them alongside Gavi.
“Yes, it's our anniversary today so not only do I get to celebrate the win tonight but I also get to celebrate an entire year of love and happiness with my girlfriend.”
Pedri shoots you a smile when you catch his eyes, mouthing ‘wait for me’ as he tends to his media tasks by finishing off the interview with a few more remarks for the game, team improvements and whatnot before he walks over to you and Gavi in brisk steps when he's finally done.
He's a few mere foot away when you immediately open your arms for a hug, not minding that he's still dirtied up from his previous game, all with the sweat and gunk clinging onto him. Pedri immediately falls down into your embrace, and Gavi takes that chance to slip away when he sees the cameras pointing to you both while still airing live.
You plant a kiss each to his cheeks and nose, leaving more than a swift peck to his lips that he returns gratefully and with glee.
“I’m so proud of you, do you know that?” You tell him as he leans his forehead against yours. “You did so well today baby, I’m very very proud of you.”
Pedri wraps both of his arms around your waist, locking you snug against him as you snake your hands around his shoulders.
“You always tell me that, no?” He leans down to whisper in your ear. “But you can always show how proud you are of me yeah?”
You don’t say anything but you do slap his chest when Gavi comes in barreling through your hug, jumping behind your boyfriend while he's got both hands over Pedri’s shoulders.
“Happy Anniversary to the two of you!”
Pedri shakes the younger one off before moving to walk away, pulling you behind him. “Too loud Gavi.”
“But we won! And it's in your anniversary and you guys should all be loud!”
Pedri smiles tight-lipped, another whisper going through your ears before he's leaning back up as if he never just said something to rouse you up.
“Oh you'll definitely be loud tonight, that's for sure.”
Not only did the media capture you lip-locking live with your boyfriend after his post-game interview, the interaction with Gavi and Pedri’s whispered suggestive comments that left you stunned and bothered definitely made it to the trending topics on Twitter for the next days to come.
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beechbloom · 10 months
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Dazai's love languages
Word count: 0,8k
Cw: mention of loved ones being lost, some angst
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1. Quality time
Dazai knows that time is short. At any moment, the people in his life can be taken from him. Because of this, he truly takes the time to cherish the moments he shares with those he cares for. Going for a walk, visiting a bar or cafe, or just simply relaxing at home together. If it's time spent with a loved one, it's time well spent.
He'd practically be attached at the hip to a romantic partner. No matter what they're doing, where they're going, there's barely anything that would prevent Dazai from attempting to tag along. He has to be with them, of course. Because if he wasn't, he might miss their smile, their laugh, or some endearing little thing they'd do. They might need his protection too! Of course, Dazai has to come along. It's only logical.
2. Physical touch
He'd be all over a romantic partner — clinging to them at all times. Hugging them, tapping his lap to make them sit, sprawling across their lap on the couch, demanding kisses, holding their hand and swinging it back and forth as they walk. PDA galore.
If his s/o doesn't allow him the physical affection he craves, he'll sulk. "Come onnn. Just a little kiss, I promise!" He'd still try to respect it if his partner was truly uncomfortable with it. Buutt,, he'd be a little bit of a nuisance regardless. Announcing when he wants touch and being like "Oh, who will satisfy my thirst for physical affection? If you don't embrace me soon I might just get so desperate I'll hug Kunikida!"
Though, these actions don't necessarily hold the most weight. The moments that are more genuinely meant to convey his love to someone are typically less energetic. Sitting alone outside, sharing a comforting silence before he suddenly pulls them into him to lean on his shoulder. Or quietly reaching out to hold his s/o as they lay beside each other in the night. Them doing the same sort of things to him will also make him feel loved.
3. Acts of service
He isn't one to do this much himself. Though if he happens to hear his s/o mention they need something, and he finds himself at the store later that day, he could definitely pick it up for them.
If someone does an act of service for him however, it actually means quite a lot; more than he thought it would. Someone doing something for him, something he didn't even ask them to do — it feels as if they're acknowledging his humanity. That he too is a person that might need help every now and then. It's not something he expects from another person, so when it happens it can catch him off guard, bringing a warmth to his chest.
4. Words of affirmation
He's very good at giving compliments and smoothly making someone feel special. These compliments, however, rarely feel genuine on his part. He either does it to get something out of the person or to entertain himself or others. Of course, it can be to get a smile out of his loved one, but he doesn't really think much about the words spilling out of his lips in those moments. "You are the light of my life! My one and only! Beauty that compares to the gods!"
The jokey, energetic flare can also be dropped in favor of something that sounds more serious. "You can do it. I've seen you do it many times before, and you can do it again. You won't fail." But he will still feel detached from it, as if he's reading from a script. He wants to be real, to share true words of love, but it all feels so fake to him no matter what he says. It's much easier for him to pull his partner close, to hold them, and hope they understand.
Him receiving affirmation is also conflicting, unfortunately. Dazai isn’t used to it, and a lot of it really doesn’t reach him on an emotional level. It just feels like empty words being thrown at the walls he’s built up around him.
However, when those words do reach him, he feels it very strongly. It’s soft, fluttery, and makes him feel an unfamiliar warmth… and that almost scares him. He’s not sure how to handle it. The phoniness of his words becomes so blaringly obvious and ugly in comparison to theirs. He’s not sure he could give them anything real in return, not sure he deserves it.
5. Gift giving
Whilst he would appreciate getting gifts, it wouldn't instinctually register in his mind as something being done out of love for him. He received a gift, cool! Now he has a thing someone gave him! ...What should he do with it?
He also isn't a big gift giver himself. Sure, he might give a little something for a birthday or something, but he's not one to constaltly shower people in gifts. It's just not a love language that comes naturally to him at all.
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sailoryooons · 5 months
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Carmen | pjm x kth (m)
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☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Human!Taehyung
☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous. 
☾ Word Count: 10,277
☾ Genre: Supernatural, Smut, PWP
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 
☾ Warnings: Hypnotized/compelled decisions and thoughts, implied manipulation, Taehyung is influenced a lot by the natural power/allure of vampires and it scatters his thoughts/makes him do things he normally wouldn’t, depictions of blood, intimidation, The Vibes Are Off, light depictions of anxiety, vampires showing off humans like pets sort of, biting/marking/bruising, explicit language, explicit sexual content, not using lube, spit play/using spit as lube, light degradation, blood play/drinking, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving), hand jobs, ass play, a lot of feelings and sensations, mentions of fear during sex, references to subspace, feeling overwhelmed during sex, crying, power dynamics but not explicitly dom/sub, blood lust, feeding frenzy, feelings of terror, Jimin calls Taehyung ‘Carmen’ sometimes - it makes sense in context, Taehyung is lured to the vampire den, implied obsessive themes (no stalking or anything), hair pulling, voyeurism, scenes of carnage and like a feed frenzy, terror at the end of fucking, idk its a vampire coven and Taehyung realizes whats happening at the very end so. 
☾ Published: October 27, 2023
☾ A/N: Happy Halloween to my baby bat @gimmethatagustd. I love you eternally, and I hope that we live a long and immortal life together. Please accept this as my love for you and I hope I am actually with you when this drops so that you can start screaming at me for hiding the fact that this fic was for you the entire time sofidjfogidjf. Also, Happy Early Birthday. I love you so much it’s actually disgusting and I need to be institutionalized. LARGELY UNEDITED SORRY. 
☾ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | Tag List | Song Inspiration | BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween Collab
The boys, the girls They all like Carmen -Carmen, Lana Del Ray
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Taehyung knows the woman at the back of the lounge wants to take him home before his first song is over. He’s become better at picking them out early. Of course, most of the men and women want to take Taehyung home, especially when starts singing the slower, romantic ballads. He can see the way they sigh, melting in their seats a little, eyes wide and mouth open. 
It’s hard to pinpoint what makes his eyes keep straying back to her. She is beautiful, to be sure, but something is pressing in Taehyung’s mind as he starts his set, drawing his eyes back to her. Like an invisible hand guiding him each time, reminding him that she is there and watching. 
She stares at him with a pinpoint focus, her dark eyes tracking Taehyung on the stage as he walks slowly, mic in hand and singing the notes softly. His eyes keep drifting back to her, trying to make out her features. All he can garner is that her eyes are alluring and even from a distance, she emanates something. Huger. Power.
It makes his stomach flip. Taehyung likes those who want him, but he loves those who crave him. Usually, it’s the men who are hungry enough for Taehyung to chase him. To go after what they want. To whisper pretty compliments until Taehyung is so lavished in attention that he goes home with them. 
The woman at the back of the room looks like she can charm him - will charm him. It makes his lips turn upward as he croons softly into the mic, feeling the music of the band behind him swell, jazzy notes drifting. 
He loves this. His mother told him that he was born to sing. Her little songbird. His mother is dead now, but he lives on through each velvet note, warm voice pouring over the patrons who watch him with dazed expressions. 
Taehyung feels powerful this way. He could lead them all around the room, he’s sure of it. He could get them up, one by one, and lead them straight into destruction. He’s sure of it. 
Except for that woman at the back of the room, whose presence scrambles Taehyung’s thoughts. He finds it hard to perform, her presence like a weighted stone on his thoughts at all times. He nearly messes up the words to a few songs he is so enchanted. 
Still, he does well. La Vie is one of Taehyung’s favorite places to perform. The clientele is high-end, the staff likes to give him free food and drink along with a decent amount of cash for his performances, and he’s growing a steady income here. 
The only problem with La Vie is that its clientele are often repeat customers, and Taehyung has grown weary of seeing the same faces he’s taken to bed already. The faces who think they own him now, who think that just because they’ve had a taste, they can have a fit whenever his eyes stray in another direction.
And his eyes do stray. 
In the middle of his set, Taehyung takes a cool sip of water while the band plays a fast tune. He nods his head, feeling the rhythm and snapping his fingers. The stage lights are low but he feels the heat through his long-sleeved shirt and slacks, sweat dripping down the back of his neck slowly like a phantom finger. 
From the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Constantine staring. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he feels the sudden flash of irritation, the urge to curl his lip in annoyance. Constantine is the exact problem that Taheyung has with La Vie, except that he’s the one who got Taehyung the gig - and the manager. 
Taehyung’s throat tightens as he walks back to the stage to finish the last half of the set. The last of the songs are slower, dreamy romantic songs meant to soften the crowd before they dismiss from the lounge for the evening. The sooner he ends the show, the sooner he’ll have to field Constantine’s seeking questions and fawning. 
It presents a problem if Taehyung wants to talk to the woman at the back of the room. 
He decides not to think about it too much. Instead, he closes his eyes and sings his way through the rest of the song, voice carrying old jazz classics and his own written music. Some people would call his smooth voice haunting. Others call it hypnotizing. Taehyung doesn’t know where he stands on the subject, and he doesn’t care so much. He just likes to sing and he likes people who watch him sing. Who listen. 
There are those who come to his performances at high-end restaurants and lounges to watch him, and those who come to hear him. He prefers those who like to hear him, but any will do at the end of the night when he wants to roll around satin sheets and drink rich wine that he doesn’t have the pallet for. 
When he sings the final note of the night, it hangs in the air. This is one of Taehyung’s favorite moments of each night. It’s the last breath before his spell is broken, a moment frozen in time where all eyes are on him, the crowd so entranced that it takes a long pause for them to realize he’s finished.
The brief silence is chased with thunderous applause and people standing. He grins, feeling his chest swell with pride, blood sizzling in his veins as he bows low at the waist. He’s one of the few artists who can get this stiff, rich crowd to stand and cheer, and he knows it. 
He steps to the side and gestures to his band, the applause continuing as they each stand and bow. Though most people might feel tired after a performance, Taehyung is buzzing. He feels the adrenaline pumping through him, and after he steps down from the stage and polishes off ice-cold water, he immediately wants something harder to keep the buzz going. 
Drinks wait for him on the bar top. It’s crowded at La Vie but people make room for him at the bar. An original speakeasy from the prohibition era, it’s low-ceiling and dimly lit, offering a romantic and mysterious air hanging in the room. Taehyung places a folded wad of bills into a glass tip jar, saluting Yoongi behind the bar. The bartender nods, gracious for the tip and a confirmation that the glasses of neat are on the house. 
Taehyung knocks back the first glass. The whiskey burns down his throat. He hisses as it goes, feeling the sting in his nasal passage. He blows out a slow breath and grins to himself, pausing before he sips the next drink to shake hands with a string of patrons complimenting him. 
None of them catch his eye the way the woman at the back of the room has, though. Taehyung sees lingering looks from husbands and wives and smirks at a group of giggling women who are shy and blushing and biting their lips as they compliment him, and he feels a slight spike of irritation when Constantine takes the stool next to him.
Instead of speaking to him, Taehyung focuses on sipping the drink. It’s smooth and perfect, with a hint of orange rind that Yoongi probably burned and waved around the glass. Taehyung looks up to see the bartender cast Constantine a pitying glance before making another drink. 
“You sang well tonight,” Constantine prods. “You have such a way with the crowd.”
“Well, I supposed that’s my job.” Taehyung’s comment comes out flat. He glances at Constantine from the corner of his eye to see that he’s frowning. 
Taehyung is full of mistakes, but letting the manager of La Vie fuck him is by far one of his biggest. He usually has a rule that he doesn’t fuck the people who can interfere with his work, but he made an exception. 
Constantine is beautiful, but a bit of a fool. He inherited La Vie from a long line of family members who have kept it running, and it’s through long-term patronage and reputation alone that it’s lasted this long. Well, that and his two only successful ventures in hiring Yoongi as his main bartender who doubles as his piano player on weeknights, and Taehyung as the late-night performances most evenings. 
People don’t come to La Vie because it’s well-kept or because of Constantine’s good business acumen. They come because they want to hear Yoongi play and then watch him behind a bar all night, sweat running down his neck, dark eyes always filled with a potential promise of more. They don’t get it, of course. Yoongi doesn’t sleep around as Taehyung does, but still, the bartender and pianist is loved and lusted after by most of the patrons. 
Then there’s Taehyung. The warm opposite of Yoongi’s distant, unattainable beauty. Taehyung is full of life, accepting praise greedily, willing to flirt his way through free drinks and extra tips, especially if it lands him in the bed of someone he has been eyeing all night.
Until he broke his rule for Constantine. Pretty Constantine, who said that he was on the same page and that sleeping with Taehyung would be a casual thing. Perhaps it’s Taehyung’s fault for not seeing how mystified the lounge manager was after that first night tangled in sweaty sheets followed by a hot shower the next morning. 
Now, he’s between a rock in a hard place. Offend Constantine and risk being ousted. Keep letting him take Taehyung to bed, and he’ll never escape. 
“Your eyes are beautiful tonight,” Constantine murmurs, dipping his head to catch Taehyung’s attention. “I’d bet they’d look even better rolling in-”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a dark, feminine voice cuts in. “But I couldn’t resist introducing myself.”
The hair stands up on the back of Taehyung’s neck. He knows it’s the woman who watched him from the back of the room before he even turns around. When he does, he is mystified. Her eyes are lined heavily in kohl and her eyes are dark as a storm sea, pinning him to his place with their intensity. Her skin is umber and smooth, her face so flawless it leaves Taehyung reeling.
There is something uncanny about her. Taehyung can’t put his finger on it. Her eyes are narrow and sharp, her lips plump and breaking into a slow, knowing smile. She looks like the cat who ate the canary, tilting her head to the side as she continues to examine Taehyung with a feline-like gaze. 
“My name is Evangeline.” She reaches out a small, smooth hand. Her nails are filed into a point and painted a wine red. For a moment, Taehyung has the silliest thought that they look like the color of blood as he shakes her hand. He’s surprised at how cold they are, his palms tingling when she lets go. “I have not heard someone sing Ella Fitzgerald like that since… well, perhaps Ella Fitzgerald.”
Taehyung cocks his head to the side, a little confused. “Do you have Ella hidden somewhere that you can listen to her sing whenever you desire?”
“Would that I could. But that’s what… oh what is that spot app, again?”
“Spotify?”
Evangeline grins, revealing wicked, blindingly white teeth. “Spotify, yes. That little intricacy does quite a good job at catching the sound of old artists, but there is nothing like it live.”
Evangeline’s voice is like velvet. Even Constantine goes silent next to Taehyung, staring up at the woman as she slides next to Taehyung. She leans against the bar close enough that he gets the barest hint of scent like jasmine and amber. 
A shiver slides through him as she sips a glass of the darkest wine Taehyung’s ever seen. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth when he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I know most of the patrons by heart.”
“You wouldn’t have. I have not been to La Vie in a long time.” 
Taehyung realizes that she speaks with a specific articulation that hints at an accent. He can’t place it, but it’s like the sweetest music to his ears. “You’ll have to come more often, perhaps.”
“That eager to see me again?”
“I like to pride myself on repeat customers coming to hear me. It would be a shame to know you didn’t find my performance compelling enough to see another.”
“Hmm. Pride isn’t very becoming.”
Taehyung bites his lower lip, trying to hide the smile. “Spoken like a woman who can relate.” 
Evangeline is quick-witted. The rest of the world seems to fade as Taehyung talks to her. It’s strange - he cannot remember what the conversation is about, and he can’t remember Constantine leaving. He doesn’t even recall the patrons leaving the bar until it’s just Yoongi wiping down the counters, eyeing Taehyung wearily as he says goodbye, following the woman out of the door.
Blood rushes through Taehyung’s veins. It’s cold outside, winter fogging his breath. His skin tingles with the sudden temperature change, muted by the soft glow of alcohol in his system. He looks up at the sky, hot breath fogging as he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with that sharp air. 
Something about being drunk in the middle of the night during winter is magical. He can’t explain it, feeling himself smile as he drops his gaze back down to the woman next to him. For a second, he swears her face is sharper than he remembers, a look so hungry in his eyes that it makes his pulse skip.
When he blinks, she’s smirking at him, tilting her head. Taehyung realizes he is drunk, but he craves Evangeline. Wants to hear the way that dark voice of her pants against him, wants to feel her sharp nails on his skin, raking down-
“Have you ever been to the opera house on ninth?”
Taehyung pauses at her question. He feels his brows furrow as his drunk thoughts turn from thoughts of kissing Evangeline to puzzling out her question. “That exclusive club that was made out of the old opera house? What’s it called again…”
“Sanguine.”
He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Sanguine. No, I haven’t. It’s by invitation only and it’s the most exclusive club in the city. I hear it’s open all hours, though.”
“It is.”
“Wait, are you a member?” 
Evangeline sticks her hand out. Taehyung meets her gaze and it feels like he falls forward into it. All thoughts fade from his mind. There is no sound, save that of a high-pitched ringing. Everything but the glowing, otherworldly woman has faded to the back. He only sees her. 
Taehyung lifts his hand, but he doesn’t remember thinking about doing it. He places it in hers, and she laces their fingers. Her hands are bitterly cold, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t either, skin tingling, gaze heavy on her as she tugs him along.
“Want to see it?”
He can’t form words. Suddenly feels like he can’t remember how. He nods his head instead, following her. His first few steps feel heavy and he stumbles like he has had far more to drink than he remembers. Normally, it might be cause for alarm, but Taehyung is unbothered as they walk, Evangeline’s eyes pulling him along as she walks backward. 
The world passes by but Taehyung doesn’t remember it. He is somewhat aware that his cheeks and nose are sticking with cold and that his eyes are watering from the temperature. He tilts his head upward, a little dazed and confused about where he is until he sees the golden glow of the opera house.
Sanguine. It is a massive building of white stone and ornate pillars. The architecture confuses him, a blend of Greco-Roman pillars and gargoyles he’d expect to find in a gothic church. The building is a wonderous feat of dark windows, ornate carvings in the stonework, and height. 
“The gargoyles are a bit terrifying,” Taehyung announces, staring at them fixated on top of the portico over the entryway. “Why the gargoyles?” 
“Some lessons are hard to learn.” 
Suddenly, Taehyung can’t take his eyes off of them. The two snarling beasts seem to be a bad omen and he finds himself frozen to the spot, forgetting all about the woman next to him or the invitation to see the exclusive inside of the most prestigious clubs in the city. All he knows is that suddenly, a feeling like doom has tiptoed up his back to rest on his shoulder. 
Taehyung takes a step back. The gargoyles look so much more like people when he stares at them. Twisted humanoids, crouched while screaming at the sky, showing fangs. His heart beats so hard that he feels his pulse in his throat, panic welling up inside of him, ready to spill out and overflow.
“I’m drunk,” he blurts. “I should go home. I-”
Evangeline’s cold hands grab Taehyung’s face and pull him down to her. Her lips are pressed against his and he doesn’t remember what he was worried about. His heart speeds up for different reasons now, eyes fluttering shut as he melts into her kiss, his hands going to her hips to pull her in closer. 
She tastes like dark wine and something else - a bit like iron and salt. The kiss is slow and dizzying and when she pulls away, Taehyung is eager to follow her into the dark halls of the opera house.
The lobby is dark inside. No light comes through the windows, leaving Taehyung in a complete abyss as Evangeline shuts and bolts the door behind him. A tingle slithers up Taehyung’s spine when she bolts the door and he suddenly feels like he’s never going to leave the opera house again. 
A soft din of voices and music trails to him from the doors leading to the main theater. Evangeline takes his hand and leads up toward the door. He still feels dizzy from the kiss, willing to follow her wherever she goes. 
For now, that’s the main seating area of the theater. She pulls open the heavy door, the rush of gentle voices and piano hitting him. Leading him through the door, Taehyung blinks as his eyes adjust from complete darkness to low light. It’s so dim that it takes him a moment to make out anything at all, eyes drifting up toward a massive chandelier with flickering, gold bulbs. 
The inside of the theater is like nothing Taehyung has ever seen. It has been transformed into a massive lounge with a wooden bar on the far right, manned by two bartenders. Velvet couches, chaise lounges and chairs are placed around the main floor, groups of people dressed in formal wear and dripping with jewels draping themselves over the furniture. 
Everything screams opulence. The interior still has the same baroque, elegant beauty that seems like the original design, mixed with the new additions like the bar and furniture. On the stage is a piano, a young woman playing with her eyes closed, and a cluster of people around her, gazing at her with what Taehyung can only describe as hunger. 
Evangeline leads him into the room. He feels the eyes on them as they go, glancing around nervously to realize that there is an odd mix of people in the room. There are those dressed formally in draping gowns and tuxedos, all of whom are unnaturally beautiful. Taehyung finds that his brain buzzes when he looks at them, each individual otherworldly and… cold. 
The other groups of people look like Taehyung. Starry-eyed and dressed in varying degrees of plain clothes. He wonders if they are guests as well, people brought into the fold by elegant patrons like Evangeline. 
Trepidation settles deep in Taehyung’s gut as Evangeline takes him to the bar and orders him a drink. He is tired, eyes heavy and worn at the edges. The momentary surge of adrenaline after she kissed him is wearing off, and Taehyung feels the layer of dizziness slipping off, replaced by anxiety. 
In an attempt to take the edge off, he sips his drink. Evangeline begins introducing him to groups of people, linking her arms with his and pulling him around the room. Taehyung gives her friends a dazzling smile, though he is overwhelmed by the dark eyes that meet his. The cold handshakes. The almost predatory way that the others smile at him. 
He cannot pinpoint what about the crowd is making him nervous, but as Evangeline tells someone about his singing ability, Taehyung realizes that she’s bragging. Showing him off. Pulling him around the room and gesturing to him with words like look what I found and isn’t he just darling? 
Normally, Taehyung preens with pride under the compliments and the pretty words. He loves it when people are enthralled by him, swept away by his talents. Now, something about it feels off. They don’t look at him with wonder on their faces and awe in their eyes- they coo at him. Look at him like they want to eat him whole. Like he is something they can possess. 
Only one person introduces himself and looks at Taehyung curiously instead of with lecherous intent. “Hoseok,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand. It’s firm and cold. “What do you like to sing?”
It’s the only time he’s been asked a question tonight. Hoseok is hauntingly beautiful, with dark eyes, a slim nose, and cheekbones that seem carved by Strazza. He is dazzling to look at, and Taehyung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he says, “Jazz, mostly. Sometimes classical, but that was mostly in my younger days in school.” 
“Divine.” Hoseok’s gaze slides to Evangeline. “You know he’s… his type.”
“Well, he didn’t find him.” 
Taehyung doesn’t know who he is and he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The pianist on stage stops playing and Evangeline takes Taehyung’s hand, pulling him toward the stage. “Come on,” she gushes. “Let them hear you.”
He lets himself be pulled. Taehyung feels a coil of nerves in his stomach as she yanks him on stage and pushes him to the middle. The room quiets when they see them and Evangeline claps her hands, drawing the full attention of the lounge.
There’s no spotlight, but Taehyung feels hot under the weighted gaze. Again, his instinct tingles, trying to make him aware of something. He just doesn’t know what. He shoves down the feeling and tucks his hands into his pockets, giving a shy grin as Evangeline talks about his voice. 
The crowd of patrons lean in a little when she steps off the stage. Their gazes are sharp as razors and he can’t help but feel like a shy lamb among a pack of wolves. 
Licking his dry lips, he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Evangeline stands near the side of the stage, not a great point of attention as he sweeps his gaze out into the room. He fixes his eyes on the glowing red exit sign above the door and opens his mouth, taking in a deep breath before he starts a slow Sinatra number. 
His voice carries over the hushed silence, deep and swelling. He smiles a little as he sings, watching the face go from hungry to mystified. The whole room seems to lean in, people from the back moving toward the stage, drawn in by him. 
Taehyung goes right into the next song, feeling his anxiety melt away. His audience is wrapped around his finger, their eyes following him as he trails around the stage, more engaged. He makes eye contact with some of them, still flinching internally at the sheer darkness of their eyes, but still singing nonetheless. 
When Taehyung finishes, the room erupts into gentle clapping and whispered praise. He feels pride well up inside of him, flushing with pleasure as he bows at the waist, grinning under the sweet applause. He stands up and starts walking toward Evangeline, who looks at him with a smile like the sun. His heart beats a little faster, grinning widely as she claps for him excitedly and-
“Sing another.”
Taehyung realizes the room is silent. The hairs on his arms stand on end and it feels like the air gets sucked out of the room suddenly. Evangeline’s eyes flash silver for a moment, but when Taehyung recoils and blinks, they’re back to normal, though she looks put out as she steps back from Taehyung. 
Slowly, Taehyung turns to look at the edge of the stage at the owner of the soft voice and his world stops. Whoever this man puts the rest of the beauty in the room to shame. Taehyung feels his pulse race, meeting the dark, sultry gaze of the man who spoke to him. 
Something calls to Taehyung. He steps toward the man, dazed and confused, staring, staring, staring. The man has the most beautiful face Taehyung has ever seen. Round cheekbones with a chiseled jaw, plush lips tinted rose, and siren eyes that glitter as he drinks Taehyung in. This is the son of a god or a god himself, Taehyung thinks. A creature of myth and legend.
“What do you want me to sing?” Taehyung asks, barely recognizing his own voice. His ears are ringing and his thoughts are syrup-slow. 
The man smiles and Taehyung feels his stomach flutter. The man is not dressed in formal attire like the rest of the patrons. He’s dressed simply in black jeans with tears in the knee, a black turtleneck tucked into the waistband to show off his tapered waist, and a necklace that looks to be made of thorns. 
Even dressed casually, he outshines every person in the room. 
“What’s your favorite?” he asks, cocking his head to the side and regarding Taehyung. 
A flush works up Taehyung’s neck. He feels a tingle slide down his spine and a lick of pleasure curl in his stomach at the man’s gaze. His fingers twitch and his mouth feels dry. He licks his lips, trying to think of the man’s question and what his answer should be. 
“Can’t Help Falling In Love, I think.” 
The man grins and Taehyung sees stars. “You think? Or you know?”
“I know?”
“Are you asking me?” 
Taehyung shifts back and forth, shame coloring his cheeks as he looks at the floor. Effortlessly, the man jumps up on the stage. He lands silent and lithe as a cat. Taehyung’s eyes widen as he approaches, his gait smooth, footfalls unheard. “I’m only teasing, sweetling. What’s your name?”
“Taehyung.” 
The man stops right in front of Taehyung. He’s shorter, but somehow Taehyung feels small and delicate in his presence, wavering as the smell of orange blossom and something darker washes over him. Taehyung’s eyelids flutter and he fights the urge to lean in closer to the man, to brush his fingers across his skin. 
“I’m Jimin.” Jimin reaches out and brushes his fingers across Taehyung’s cheekbone. His touch leaves a trail of tingling cold. Taehyung closes his eyes, breath catching. Whatever this spell he’s under, he can’t shake it, gone with just a touch. “I want you to sing for me, Taehyung.” 
“Okay.” 
Jimin steps away and Taehyung makes a sound, protesting. His mind is warring between confusion at his reaction and the need to be near Jimin. The duller part of his thoughts is careening, telling him to pull it together, to stop and leave. But the desire shaken awake by Jimin is so much louder, commanding Taehyung’s thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” Jimin murmurs, gesturing to where Evangeline is standing. “I’ll be right there.” 
Taehyung watches as Jimin glides over to the edge of the stage. He whispers something to Evangeline that Taehyung cannot hear but he watches the change in the woman. She ripples with anger, her lip curling up in a snarl. Jimin says something else to her and in the blink of an eye, her head is bowed, her shoulders coming up as she steps back, cowering. 
When Jimin turns around, he gives Taehyung an encouraging smile. The effect is instantaneous. Taehyung feels giddy inside, joy bubbling up as he returns the smile shyly. Gone is the anxiety, gone is the strange feeling of being paraded around. Now, all he can think about is Jimin’s dark eyes, the way they track him as he moves to the middle of the stage again. 
As Taehyung starts the song, he wonders if this is what Elvis was singing about. If wise men were right and that only fools fall in love. Can love at first sight be a thing? As Taehyung sings the song softly, looking at Jimin every so often, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet, he thinks perhaps this song was written about Jimin. 
It isn’t rational. Taehyung knows this and yet barely acknowledges it, watching Jimin’s eyes shine with something as Taehyung finishes the song. For a moment, no one claps. Taehyung looks nervously around the theater, watching as the eyes of the crowd look at Jimin. Once he applauds, the rest follow. 
Taehyung lets out a relieved breath, smiling and bowing shallowly. Jimin approaches him again. It occurs to Taehyung that Jimin walks like a jungle cat, smooth and somehow lethal. 
“You have the most exquisite voice,” Jimin says gently, shaking his head. “You are a rare treasure, Taehyung.” He holds out a hand. “Join me?” 
Taehyung starts to reach for Jimin before he hesitates, eyes glancing up over Jimin’s head at Evangeline, who looks murderous. “You are far too precious for her,” Jimin growls. “It is insulting that she thinks she could ever have you.”
Instead of answering, Taehyung just nods. His eyelids feel heavy, his heady swimming like he’s buzzing off a fresh glass of liquor. Jimin links their hands together and tugs Taehyung along. As they pass Evangeline, she doesn’t dare look at them, her eyes fixed on the floor. 
At the foot of the stairs, Hoseok is standing, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. He shakes his head when he sees Jimin, falling into step with him. “I told her.” 
“Thank you for alerting me,” Jimin tells Hoseok. Jimin turns over his shoulder where Taehyung is trailing a footstep behind. “I would have missed out on him.” 
Hoseok breaks off from them, walking toward the bar. Someone takes up the piano again as Jimin leads Taehyung out of the main theater and to a stairwell. He says nothing, following Jimin’s lead in silence, steps heavy. It feels like he’s underwater, everything dull around him. 
Except Jimin, who is sharp and bright and alive in his mind. 
Jimin leads Taehyung down a hall and through a door. It opens up into a balcony suite. What was once a private box for watching the opera has been turned into a luxurious room of sorts, making Taehyung raise his eyebrows. 
A lounge area is in the middle of the suite, and there is a single bed tucked into the corner. A wet bar is placed at the back, along with a doorway that leads into a refurbished bathroom. Taehyung pauses as Jimin drops his hand, looking around to appreciate the velvet drapery on the wall and the ornate decor in the room. 
It feels like he has stepped back in time, a mix of modern and Victorian meshing in a way that Taehyung finds wonderfully elegant. Jimin goes to the wet bar and retrieves two glasses, pouring them a finger of whiskey each. Taehyung walks toward him, looking out at the lounge beneath. 
“It’s designed like a bedroom?” Taehyung inquires, eyes drifting back to Jimin, who smiles as he brings the glass up to his lips. His sharp eyes pin Taehyung to the spot as he sips. “Do you… live here?”
Jimin shrugs. “Sometimes.” 
“What is that supposed to mean?” 
Instead of answering the question, Jimin gestures for Taehyung to walk with him, leading him to a rich, crushed velvet couch that overlooks the lounge. Taehyung takes a sip of the whiskey but it’s Jimin who makes him feel drunk and cottony.
He sits next to Jimin, limbs stiff. Jimin giggles at Taehyung’s awkwardness, tsking at him as he leans over and pulls Taehyung toward him, pressing their thighs and sides together as they watch the party unfold below. Butterflies flutter in Taehyung’s smile as he looks at Jimin, who is watching Taehyung with rapt attention. 
Being so near Jimin is difficult. This close, he’s even more beautiful than before. Taehyung doesn’t know how it’s possible. Jimin’s lashes are long, framing his beautiful eyes. His dark hair looks silky and soft, tucked behind his ears as he regards Taehyung with a fond expression. 
Heat climbs up Taehyung’s neck and between his legs, a heady feeling sinking deep in his stomach under Jimin’s gaze.
“What?” Taehyung asks, looking down at his lap and chewing the inside of his cheek. He’s never felt so bashful under someone’s gaze before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re beautiful, of course.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t be shy now,” Jimin tuts. “You were quite confident on stage earlier. I believe the entire room fell in love with you.” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders and Jimin laughs loudly. “Now you’re humble? You are a delightful creature, Taehyung. Tell me, have you ever been to the opera?” 
“No, but I’m familiar with some.”
“What about Carmen?” Jimin asks. He reaches forward and drags a finger across Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung holds back a groan as Jimin starts tracing patterns on Taehyung’s thigh. “Have you heard of that one?” 
“I’m familiar with the Habanera.” 
“Ah yes. It’s about a woman named Carmen who everyone is in love with. She entrances men with her vitality and sensuality. A man named José falls madly in love with her at first sight, abandoning the army, his wife, and his children for her.” 
Taehyung finds it hard to listen. Even through the fabric of his pants, Jimin’s touch is tantalizing. Taehyung’s legs widen a fraction, his spine tingling. He leans his head back, feeling breathless as Jimin’s tracing gets higher and higher, teasing Taehyung before his touch moves toward Taehyung’s knee again. 
“José, of course, is not the only one in love with Carmen. She is infectious, tempting everyone she comes into contact with.” Jimin leans toward Taehyung, so close that his breath ghosts across Taehyung’s throat. He feels his heart speed up as Jimin lowers his voice and continues, “You remind me so much of Carmen. Charming everyone around you with a simple look, with the sound of your voice. So addicting without even a taste.” 
“O-oh.” 
Jimin presses his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung nearly drops the glass in his hand, placing it next to him on the couch as his breathing hitches. Jimin runs his nose up Jimin’s too-hot skin, making Taehyung squirm. 
“I fear I have the same weakness as José and you have hypnotized me like Carmen.” 
“Me?”
Jimin nips Taehyung’s ear and Taehyung lets out a throaty, moan. Jimin’s breath across his skin is maddening, colors swimming behind squeezed-shut eyes. His dick hardens in his pants, blood pumping through him, arousal unfolding like the slow-blooming petals of a flower. 
“Don’t sound so surprised. You know the effect you have on people.”
“I do,” Taheyung admits. 
“Look at me.” 
It is a command. Taehyung obeys, turning his face to look up at Jimin. Jimin’s pupils are blown wide, hypnotizing, and alluring as he looks down his nose at Taehyung. Desire stirs so strongly in Taehyung that he parts his lips open, making a small noise as Jimin’s touch on Taehyung’s thigh turns to a solid grip, fingers digging in. 
“Do you want me, my Carmen? Do you desire me?”
“Yes,” Taehyung breathes. “Please.” 
“Ask, then.” 
Jimin’s eyes are so hungry that Taehyung is lost in them. Jimin is on his knees on the couch now, pressed against Taehyung. It feels more intimate than anything Taehyungh has ever felt and they’re barely touching, Jimin gripping Taehyung’s thigh, his mouth hovering inches above Taehyung’s.
“Ask,” Jimin growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere in Taehyung’s chest. Jimin might be smaller than Taehyung but the power that emanates from him is intoxicating and sweeping, making Taehyung shudder.
“Please,” Taehyung says again. “I want you. Will you have me? Please.”
Jimin’s grip is iron. “Of course I will. You’re mine.” 
Taehyung feels like Jimin’s as Jimin steals a searing kiss from him. Taehyung gasps into the kiss, melting into the couch as Jimin licks into the wet heat of Taehyung’s mouth. Jimin is all-consuming, his lips sliding against Taehyung’s hungrily, his tongue brushing against the ridges of Taehyung’s mouth.
It’s just a kiss and yet Taehyung loses himself in it. It’s needy and torrid, their teeth clicking together, lips sliding. Taehyung grabs the front of Jimin’s shirt, uncaring if he wrinkles it as Jimin presses Taehyung into the back of the couch, straddling him. Jimin’s fingers tangle in Taehyung’s hair, pulling harshly. 
The pleasure-pain makes Taehyung moan. Jimin hums, his devilish mouth moving from Taehyung’s lips to his jaw, biting and sucking harshly at the skin. It feels so good. Taehyung just lies there and takes it, hissing as Jimin’s teeth pinch and pull his skin, followed by Jimin’s soothing tongue, rough and wet.
The ache in his dick grows, especially as Jimin puts weight on it, sitting in his lap and leaning and rolling his hips forward, pressing into Taehyung’s cock and driving him wild. He feels out of control, like the room is spinning and Jimin’s kisses are going straight to Taehyung’s veins. 
“Fuck,” he gasps as Jimin licks hungrily at Taehyung’s neck. Jimin drags his blunt nails along Taehyung’s scalp, sending sparks down his neck and spine. “Please.”
“Please what,” Jimin pants, mouthing at Taehyung’s collarbones. “Tell me what you need, my wonderful Carmen.” 
It should be strange to be called by another name and yet, Taehyung shivers at the rasp in Jimin’s voice. Every single part of him is suddenly alive like his nerves are exposed to Jimin’s hands and mouth. Taehyung can’t remember the last time he felt like this with such simple touches. 
Perhaps never. 
“Fuck me,” Taehyung breathes. “I want you to fuck me.” 
Jimin smiles against Taehyung’s mouth. “Oh, I’ll fuck you.” 
A thrill goes through Taehyung as Jimin grabs him and slams him against the couch. His world spins and he’s suddenly facing the ceiling of the suite, panting and delirious as Jimin pins him down, littering his skin with bites and sloppy kisses.
Some of Jimin’s nipping hurts but it adds to the pleasure, Taehyung barreling straight into a slow, pleasured haze as Jimin pulls Taehyung’s shirt off roughly. Cool air kisses his flushed skin. Taehyung claws at the jacket on Jimin’s shoulders, pushing it off of him until he’s free of it, Taehyung’s hands seeking the flexing muscle of Jimin’s arms. 
Jimin’s hand goes to Taehyung’s throat. His hand is small but it squeezes pleasantly as Jimin kisses down Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung grinds up against Jimin, trying to relieve the pressure aching in his cock, a whine leaving his mouth. He feels Jimin’s breath across his skin as he laughs before fixing his mouth on a nipple, making Taehyung keen.
The stimulation is too much and not enough. It feels like Taehyung is ripping at the seams - burst at the seams from the pressure mounting inside of him. What has Jimin done to him to command his body? 
“Everyone can hear you,” Jimin teases, flicking his long, wicked tongue out to tease Taehyung’s already abused nipple. He drags his tongue across Taehyung’s chest, leaving a wet trail of spit as he goes. “Can hear you whining like a little whore. Is that what you want?”
Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Jimin’s teeth scrape against his other nipple. He nods his head, unable to form a verbal answer to Jimin’s question. 
“Hmm,” Jimin hums, tongue lashing. “Good boy. Let them know you’re mine. They’ll wait for us to have our fun before they start.”
Taehyung has no idea what that means. He doesn’t ask. Instead, his hands slip down Jimin’s stomach and under his shirt, touching his skin. Jimin is cool to the touch, his stomach muscles flexing under Taehyung’s inquisitive fingers. He grabs at Jimin’s hips, but his fingers slip away as Jimin sinks lower down Taehyung’s body, nipping and sucking as he goes. 
Opening his eyes, Taehyung watches with heavy lids as Jimin settles between Taehyung’s legs, looking up at him. His hair hangs in his eyes, which glint wickedly as his nimble fingers work the zipper on Taehyung’s pants. He can’t look away from Jimin, hypnotized by the movement, but the way Jimin grins and pulls open Taehyung’s pants, leaning forward to lick at the damp spot on Taehyung’s briefs. 
Taehyung’s head drops back and he moans loudly, feeling the pressure of Jimin’s wet tongue through the thin fabric. Jimin mouths at the crown of Taehuyng’s cock, sending jolts of pleasure straight to him. He grabs the back of the couch with one and presses his first to the mouth with the other, biting as he bucks his hips.
“So sensitive,” Jimin coos. His hands grab the top of Taehyung’s pants and the elastic band of his briefs and pull hard, making Taehyung yelp as Jimin unclothes him in one fell swoop. “Think you can take it?”
Taehyung nods quickly, making himself dizzy with the force. Jimin laughs and reaches out, gripping Taehyung’s shaft and pumping him slowly. Jimin’s touch is electrifying, Taehyung’s hips canting upwards to fuck himself into Jimin’s palm, head lolling to the side. 
Jimin spits loudly, coating Taehyung’s cock with spit, his hand gliding firmly to the base of Taehuyng’s shaft. “Just like that,” Jimin whispers. “Fuck yourself into my hand.” 
Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He does so vigorously, chasing the feel of Jimin’s tight, wet fist and the cool feel of his skin. When Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue kitten lick the tip of his cock, he clenches his teeth, slowly his wild thrusting to allow Jimin’s mouth to explore. 
It’s hard not to bust immediately. He feels his orgasm looming from the barest stimulation. Suddenly it’s like Taehyung is back in high school having his dick sucked for the first time, trembling and trying not to come as Jimin suckles the head of Taehyung’s dick, mouthing at it greedily. 
The room feels like it’s spinning. Taehyung cannot hear beyond the balcony. All he can hear are the wet sounds of Jimin taking Taehyung into his mouth, sucking generously, tongue brushing on the underside of Taehyung’s shaft. 
Jimin pulls off of Taehyung with a wet pop. “You taste so sweet,” he groans, tongue flicking against Taehyung’s frenulum. Taehyung feels wrecked already, sagging and boneless, unable to do anything against the onslaught of Jimin’s mouth. “Sounds so sweet, just like you sing.”
Slowly, Jimin drags his tongue south. He strokes Taehyung lazily with his hand, mouthing at Taehyung’s balls. Taehyung’s fingers feel like they’ll break as he grips the couch, overwhelmed by the stimulation, crying out, muscles squeezing, head spinning, blood roaring. 
“Such pretty sounds,” Jimin murmurs again, dragging his tongue upward. “Sing for me, my Carmen.”
A broken sob sound leaves Taehyung’s mouth as Jimin takes Taehyung to the back of his throat. The wet heat of Jimin’s mouth is an inferno, his throat tight and soft and oh god he’s swallowing. Taehyung lashes against the couch, hands shooting to Jimin’s hair as his throat constricts tightly around Taehyung. 
He feels the spit sliding down his shaft, his stomach so tight and his dick so hard he knows he’s about to come any second, every atom buzzing. 
“I’m gonna-” he can’t finish the sentence, shaking his head back and forth. His heart beats so hard in his chest he thinks he might die before he hits his peak. “Fuck, Jimin. Fuck fuck fuck.” 
Jimin redoubles his efforts. Squeezes Taehyung’s balls with his hand, letting Taehyung shove his hips forward, Jimin’s throat squeezing Taehyung until he’s coming hard. Jimin takes it in stride, swallowing down Taehyung’s cum. 
And he doesn’t stop. 
Taehyung’s hands start to push at Jimin. Tries to pull him off Taehyung’s cock, tries to scoot away. The pleasure morphs into overstimulation. It hurts so good that Taehyung is collapsing into the couch, kicking and bucking and crying as Jimin keeps going, his hand pumping, mouth sucking. 
If there is a god, there must be a devil. And if there is a devil, Taehyung knows that he is between Taehyung’s legs, working him to another orgasm somehow, driving Taehyung to madness as he goes. Jimin pulls off Taehyung’s dick with a sticky sound, moaning sweetly at the mess Taehyung has become. 
“You can take it,” Jimin coos. “I know you can. You said you can.” 
Taehyung nods. Tears sting his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. He blinks his eyes open, watching as the ceiling swims into picture, a little blurry from the tears. He takes deep, shuttering inhales, his lungs rattling as he does. When he looks down at Jimin, he wishes he didn’t open his eyes. 
He almost doesn’t recognize whatever it is that is laving at his weeping cock. Jimin’s face is crueler somehow. More beautiful, but terrifying. Taehyung swears the veins around his eyes are darker and the scrape of his teeth is sharper. 
The orgasm must have made him delirious. It’s the only explanation, especially as Jimin works him hard again, Taehyung aching to explode once more. 
Jimin pulls off of Taehyung and crawls upward. Taehyung thinks Jimin looks like an apex predator for a single, terrifying moment. And then Jimin is kissing him, making Taehuyng’s thoughts turn to white noise as Taehyung presses his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, tasting spit and cum and something like iron and salt.  
Something pricks Taehyung’s mouth. He lets out a surprised sound, his mouth filling with a warm, metallic substance. Jimin’s kiss becomes frenzied. The force of it startles Taehyung, fear wiggling its way into his mind as Jimin presses down on him. 
Jimin becomes overwhelmed. A force that Taehyung cannot escape, completely trapped and helpless, still dizzy and uncoordinated from the overstimulation. It excites him. Taehyung realizes with mild terror that he likes this feeling, likes being overpowered and pushed to the edge. 
He lets Jimin suck greedily on his bleeding lip. He’s too focused on the ache between his legs and the mind-melting way Jimin makes him feel to realize that Jimin is hyper-fixated on his bleeding mouth. He kisses Jimin back as best as he can, though it’s more of a slide of lips and tongue than an intentional kiss. 
“Turn over for me,” Jimin grumbles. He’s already gripping Taehuyng and trying to turn him over. Taehyung struggles to make his limbs work but manages to flip, mostly due to Jimin lifting him and turning him, once again showing how strong he is. “Gonna work you open for my cock.”
A pathetic sound escapes Taehyung’s mouth. His cheek hits the soft velvet. It’s grounding, feeling the gentle scrape of it against his sensitive skin. His cock is pressed tight between his stomach and the cushions, but it’s less invasive than Jimin’s hungry mouth, a brief respite. 
Wet lips trail Taehyung’s spine as Jimin descends. Taehyung’s breathing is ragged and heavy, gulping down cool air as he trembles under Jimin’s rough mouth. He likes that Jimin doesn’t handle him with kid gloves. That Jimin keeps Taehyung to his word, driving him into a manic state. 
Taehyung still feels like he’s on the edge of that mania when he feels Jimin’s fingers slip between his ass, seeking. He flinches when Jimin brushes against his tight rim, the muscles clenching, afraid. Jimin laughs but doesn’t push it, instead peeling Taehyung apart to spit noisily. 
A gentle sigh drips from Taehyung’s mouth. He feels the spit slide, the sensation heightened. Jimin’s finger traces after it, circling Taehyung’s asshole lightly. His toes curl at the light stimulation. It feels good, but it’s hard to control the muscle's instinct to reject and contract. 
Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He leans forward, his fingers pressed firmly in the seam of Taehyung’s ass, his mouth pressing butterfly-soft kisses to Taehyung’s spine. 
Taehyung feels like Jimin’s instrument. Jimin works him open slowly and gently, at ends with how he was driving Taehyung to madness minutes prior. The swing to gentle and soothing has Taehyung confused and reeling, his brain trying to keep up with the sensations tingling through his body. 
When Jimin slowly breaches Taehyung’s tight ring of muscles, he lets out a pathetic keen. Taehyung is too loose-limbed and fuzzy-brained to do anything but take it. The intrusion burns for a second, but levels out to be pleasurable. 
Cold liquid slides down Jimin’s fingers, easing the slide. Taehyung sighs, relief unfurling slowly as the burn goes quiet and all that’s left is the stretch and the pressure of Jimin working Taehyung’s walls open. Toe-curling pleasure sweeps through Taehyung. He bites his bottom lip, lifting his ass in small, half-hearted twitches to meet the push and pull of Jimin’s fingers.
“Mhmm,” Jimin encourages, teeth scraping Taehyung’s shoulder blade. His breath is cool on Taehyung’s warm skin. “Take what you want, sweetling. Open yourself up for me.”
It smells like sweat and orange blossoms, Taehyung’s skin covered in their mixed scents. His sensitive cock drags against the fabric of the couch, sparking pleasure and pain as he fucks himself into the palm of Jimin’s hand. Jimin’s fingers are small but do the job, pressing against the most sensitive parts of Taehyung, making his breath ragged. 
Everything feels like it’s on fire as Jimin pushes in another finger. Taehyung feels the wet schlick of lube or whatever Jimin has used to make the slide easier. He feels fuller, moaning like a whore as he chases the electric feeling under his skin, coming alive under the careful press of Jimin’s fingers. 
“So good for me,” Jimin whispers, biting Taeyung’s ear. His breath is hot against the side of Taehyung’s face. “Gonna take my cock so well, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Fuck,” Jimin swears. “I can’t wait. This is what you do to me.”
Jimin pulls his fingers out. Taehyung complains, feeling the empty gape. Jimin shushes him and presses his clothed cock against Taehyung’s ass, letting him feel how hard Jimin is. Taehyung grinds his ass against Jimin’s crotch, making the other moan. 
A shirt flys past Taehyung. He realizes that it must be Jimin’s turning and angling his head to see the man in question. He is utterly divine, his compact body graceful and deadly, lined with muscle and delicate lines. Jimin undoes the belt of his jeans and pulls them down, palming himself over his briefs as he kicks out of his pants. 
Taehyung can’t help but stare, lips parted. Jimin is a vision, his face still masked in something lethal and terrifying that makes Taehyung excited and afraid all at the same time. The mixture is intoxicating, sending his thoughts somewhere distant and fuzzy where all he can do is watch Jimin pull his briefs down to reveal a thick, leaking cock. 
On instinct, Taehyung scoots toward Jimin. The other laughs, giving Taehyung a quick, harsh smack on the ass. His skin stings where Jimin’s hand connects, earning a whimper. Jimin tuts at Taehyung, fisting his cock leisurely as he does. 
“So needy,” he grumbles. “So hungry for cock. You’re just like Carmen, you know? Addicting, needy, breaking down my will to give you whatever you want. This must be how Jose felt, ready to give her everything. Pliable. So willing.” 
“And you? How do you feel?”
Jimin’s gaze is dark and heavy. Taehyung holds his breath, pinned to the spot. He feels Jimin’s cockhead nudge the tight rim of his ass as Jimin settles behind him, looking at Taehyung so intensely that Taehyung feels as though he will wither away. Ashes to ashes. 
“Like I want to give you the world.” 
“Please.”
“You have to give it back. You have to be mine.” 
Taehyung is nodding before Jimin even finishes his sentence. Taehyung will give him anything he wants, as long as it means Jimin will push forward and relieve the aching weight of Taehyung’s needs. He is filled with so much carnal desire he thinks he would do anything Jimin asks of him. 
“Yours,” Taehyung agrees. He tries to push back and spear himself on Jimin’s cock, but Jimin’s grip is iron, holding him in place. “Yours.” 
That’s all it takes for Jimin to sigh, pleased. He pushes in slowly, Taehyung gasping and grabbing the couch at the intrusion. His walls flutter around Jimin’s cock. It’s a tight fit, a slow, pleasure-filled agony that ripples through him. 
Taehyung is hyper aware of how full he feels. It is perfect, his mind turning to static as he lays his face down on the couch, breathing strained and heart hammering. Jimin praises him gently, coaxing Taehyung to calm down with gentle kisses on the back of his neck, shoulders, and head. Jimin is fully seated, his hips pressed to Taehyung’s ass. It feels good, the pain retreating and leaving nothing but bliss in its wake. 
Jimin pulls out, the rough drag of his cock sending Taehyung into a spiral before Jimin snaps his hips forward again. Taehyung lets out a desperate sound, feeling his eyes roll back into his head as Jimin starts to fuck him slowly. 
It feels hot. Jimin cages Taehyung in, his chest pressed to Taehyung’s back, humid air trapped between their bodies. Jimin’s skin is cool to the touch, such a contrast to the warmth radiating from Taehyung. The mix of hot and cold only heightens the sensations, everything feeling sharp and powerful. 
Jimin’s teeth scrape Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung doesn’t know why, but he leans his head to the side, giving Jimin free access to litter his throat with sloppy kisses. Taehyung feels broken under the weight of Jimin’s thrusts, the wet sound of his cock pushing deeper into Taehyung until it’s pressing against the deepest part of him, making Taehyung kick his feet as the pleasure builds.
It’s so good it hurts. Taehyung is reeling, having never felt like this when being fucked. Jimin chuckles darkly against his ear, tongue licking the shell of Taehyung’s ear before whispering, “You take it so well.” Taehyung whines in response, pushing his ass back to meet Jimin’s hips as best as he can. “Such an eager little slut. Everyone can hear you getting fucked - do you like that?”
Taehyung nods his head. Jimin grabs him by the hair, pulling Taehyung upward so that Jimin’s chin is slotted on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung’s neck cranes painfully and he opens his eyes, looking at Jimin’s side profile. 
“I said do you like that?” 
“Yes!”
“Come here, let’s show them.” 
Everything goes off balance. Jimin picks Taehyung up off of the couch like he’s a ragdoll, spinning him so that his feet hit the ground and he’s pushed up against the balcony railing. He barely has the coordination to plant his feet on the ground and grab the railing before Jimin is pressing back in, splitting him apart for everyone to see. 
Taehyung casts his head back, eyes closed. He doesn’t want to look down, doesn’t want to see the faces of the onlookers as he moans loudly, feeling flushed and breathy as Jimin fucks him hard. Taehyung sees stars behind his eyelid, laying his head back on Jimin’s shoulders, his hands gripping the railing as Jimin hammers into Taehyung’s prostate. 
It feels like Taehyung’s blood is on fire. Something like glee unfurls in him at the thought of everyone below seeing how perfect he is for Jimin. That Jimin chose Taehyung and no one else. That Taehyung is the perfect, pliant partner for Jimin. He doesn’t want to see their faces - he’s too shy for now - but he silently revels in the fact that they’ll know from this moment forward that Taehyung is Jimin’s in some capacity. 
His mind hasn’t caught up to what exactly that capacity is, blinded by the way he teeters on the edge of coming again. 
“This is going to hurt at first,” Jimin whispers against Taehyung’s throat. 
There’s a brief moment of confusion. Taehyung is unable to think beyond the thick, heady haze clouding his mind, but then searing pain rips through his neck. His eyes fly open and he gasps, too shocked to scream properly where he feels blinding pain throbbing from the side of his throat. 
Taehyung’s hand shoots up to Jimin’s face, digging in his hair. Jimin’s mouth is pressed against Taehyung’s throat and it takes a moment for Taehyung to realize Jimin is biting him clean through the skin. 
Panic shoots through him. He clutches at Jimin’s hair, pulling tight at the strands to pull him off. Jimin doesn’t budge, his mouth fixed to the tender flesh of Taehyung’s throat. Then Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue. The subtle pull of his mouth, the drag of his blood. 
The pain fades into something else. His neck tingles, fire replaced with numbness. Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as a high unlike anything else hits him. Jimin is still fucking him, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming savage as he takes deep swallows at Taehyung’s neck.
Taehyung is vaguely aware that Jimin is drinking his blood. He can’t process beyond that acknowledgement, too caught up in the euphoria glittering through his veins, turning his blood to molten lava. His head falls forward, too heavy for him to hold up, eyes closed and sinking into the feeling. 
His orgasm comes swift and hard. Every muscle in Taehyung’s body squeezes tight with a force he’s never felt. It feels like he might collapse in on himself, a star going supernova before it implodes, sucking everything inward. 
Jimin lets go of Taehyung's neck, gasping as he feels Taehyung squeezes his cock. The wet gurgle of a moan from Jimin’s mouth makes Taehyung turn and look at him. Taehyung is bent over the railing now, sweaty chest sliding back and forth as Jimin’s hips jostle him. Jimin is standing straight, his hands gripping Taehyung’s hips to hold him in place as he fucks him viciously, chasing his high. 
But what freezes Taehyung in place isn’t the powerful body driving him into overstimulation. It isn’t the beautiful, lithe lines of Jimin’s chest and arms or the beautiful way his eyes drink Taehyung in. It’s the blood running down Jimin’s neck and chest that startles him. The crimson smear across Jimin’s mouth, which is parted as Jimin tilts his head upward, tongue coming out to run across his bottom lip. 
A glint of white catches Taehyung’s eyes and his heart stops. Two fangs, stark against the wine-red mouth filled with blood - Taehyung’s blood. His heart skyrockets for a whole new reason and he tries to think but his mind is too slow. Sluggish. Still crawling through the high that Jimin’s bite injected him with. 
“Jimin?” it comes out slurred and terrified as Taehyung watches Jimin lower his face, eyes finding Taehyung. He still looks beautiful with the lower half of his face colored in blood, but he is terrifying, and destructive. Taehyung thinks he might die of fright even as his stomach flips with arousal again. “What…?”
“Look at them,” Jimin grins, mouth a red gash. He grabs Taehyung's hair and forces the boy to turn toward the scene below. “Look how they waited so patiently for me to start. To fuck, to feed. They waited for you - to come and bleed. They don’t indulge until you’re done, my sweet Carmen.” 
It takes several moments for Taehyung to piece together the tableau unfolding beneath him. What appears to be a mess of blurry images and sounds morphs into something else, the edges of his clarity sharpening as Taehyung blinks through the fog of pleasure. What he thought was going to be patrons looking up at the balcony as he’s ravaged is not at all the case. 
Below is unleashed carnal energy. He sees bodies writhing. Scarlet ribbons of blood flowing down necks, in between thighs, down shoulders. His eyes sweep the landscape of bodies fucking and thrusting and bending, of screaming of pinning down, of biting. 
Vampires. 
The word suddenly comes to Taehyung in a moment of clarity, the word ringing out so clearly in his mind that he jerks upward underneath Jimin’s grip. The vampires below chase the humans in the room. Taehyung realizes that all of the patrons dressed in finery are slamming people dressed in plain clothes to the ground and onto furniture, fixing their mouths on them, and ripping their shirts open. 
“Oh my god,” Taehyung breathes, finally breaking free of the murky mist of lust. “What are you?” 
Jimin presses against Taehyung, slamming his hips in deep one more time as he comes with a feral growl. His hands are tight in Taehyung’s hair and his mouth is rough against his ear. “I’m yours,” Jimin answers, voice low. “I’m José and you are my Carmen.” 
Dizziness sweeps over Taehyung, feeling like darkness is racing up to greet him. “Yours,” Taehyung agrees, slow blinking as Jimin’s teeth sink into his shoulder again. “Your Carmen.” 
-
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Please note: typically I would reblog with my tag list, but this drop is scheduled while I am traveling and I am unable to reblog and tag, so I’ve just done it as part of the main body. 
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