#my appetite is SO diminished right now

[leossmoonn]

This Love

masterlist

pairing - matt murdock x fem!reader

type - smut, fluff, 16+

note / request - "academic rival!matt and you being each other's firsts <3333" Hope you guys enjoy!!

summary - after years of being enemies, you and matt finally get together

warnings / includes - language, fingering, hand job, oral (f receiving), p in v sex

————

*gif isn’t mine*

"What's up friends!" You grin. You sit down at the table, glancing over to your right. "Murdock."

"That's my name. Don't wear it out," he states. You roll your eyes and set your eyes on Foggy. "How's it going?"

"Better now that you're here," Foggy smiles. You chuckle. "Oh, I know. I'm the only reason why you're surviving Columbia."

"Ah, yes, because you are the center of the world," Matt remarks. "Jealous?" You smirk.

"The opposite, actually," he hums.

"You guys can just have sex already," Foggy states. You and Matt both groan.

"In her dreams."

"In his dreams."

You glare at Matt while he makes a face while reading braille.

“The day I dream about having sex with you is the day I die,” you snort.

Matt smirks, “how come you’re still alive then?” You raise your brows. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“I wish I didn’t.” You push your tray of food away. “And just like that, my appetite has diminished.”

“Don’t mind if I do, then,” Matt says and reaches out to grab your food.

“Hey!” You slap his hand away. A thrill runs up your spine as your skin meets his, but you ignore the feeling bubbling up inside of you, pushing it deep down. “I never said you could have it!”

“You basically did,” he scoffs. “And if you’re not going to eat it, then you’re basically wasting food. And who would I be to waste —”

“God, you’re insufferable,” you groan. “Fine, you can have my chips. But I’m saving my sandwich and soup for later when I’m not in your presence.”

“Good to know I have some effect on you,” Matt smirks.

You stare at the quirked corner of his lips, your mind wandering. You imagine how his lips would feel on yours, how soft they would glide across your body. How they’ll nip at your skin, his teeth creating love bites on the most secret parts of yourself.

“You good, Y/n?” Foggy asks. You snap out of your daze, seeing that Matt’s smirk is wider. You look down at your lap, your face burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry. I’m really tired.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep then,” Matt states, plucking the bag of chips from your tray and opening them.

“Did I ask?” You snap. “Not verbally,” he says.

“Why are you so annoying today? Did Elektra leave you again for the like, what? Hundredth time?” You accuse.

Matt’s eyebrows knit and he frowns. “One, I left Elektra. Two, you’re the one being so annoying.”

“Oh, yeah? And how so?” You prompt, resting your elbow on the table and leaning close to him. You cross your legs and you see his nostrils flare.

“You’re just you,” he mutters, lowering his head and continuing to eat his chips.

“Some people would consider that a gift,” you remark.

Matt mutters something incoherent. You’re curious, but don’t push. From his expression, you two are done teasing each other until your next encounter.

“Are you ready for that test?” Foggy changes the subject, noticing the shift in the air. You flash a thankful smile, straightening up in your seat and conversing with him.

————

“Are you going to the mixer tonight?” Your roommate, Lara, asks.

“I’m not sure. Are you?” You ask. “Yep. Foggy is taking me,” she grins.

You smile, “oh, really. When did this happen?” “An hour ago. He accidentally spilled tea all over me, and as an apology, I told him he can take me to the mixer. He gladly obliged,” she explains.

“Hm, not surprising. He’s had his eye on you for a while,” you say.

“I know. It was about time I relieve him,” she says. “I bet he’s on top of the world,” you agree.

“So am I,” she sighs dreamily. She continues tweezing her brows, leaning forward on the vanity. You resume studying, turning the page, and getting a whiff of a familiar, musky scent.

Matt’s charming smile pops into your face. The familiar scent is his. You lean forward and smell your book. It smells nothing out of the ordinary. You frown as you realize his scent just came to you. You try to push it out of your mind, re-reading the words from your textbook, but you can’t focus. Suddenly, your mind is clouded with thoughts of Matt. You let out of frustrated huff, slamming your book close. You figure you can clear your mind with a short walk around campus. You’ve been cooped up in your room for a couple of hours now. Maybe the lack of fresh air was making you crazy.

“I’m going out for a walk. Have fun at the mixer. Tell me how it goes when you get back,” you say.

“I might not be back tonight,” Lara smirks. “But I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. I won’t leave out any details.”

You chuckle, “I think you should spare some details.” You step out of your dorm room, turning left and making your way outside of your building. You walk down to the library, looking through the windows to see all the students studying. Matt catches your eye.

You stop in your track, stuffing your hands in your sweatshirt pocket as you observe him. He has his earbuds in that’s attached to a laptop. His hands are splayed out in from of him, his fingers moving across the paper to read braille. You were amazed at how fast he could read braille. You could barely read that fast.

His senses seem to pick up on you as he turns his head in your direction. Your hairs on the back of your neck raise. You didn’t know how he did it. It was like he had super senses. It both intrigued you and scared you.

You know he can definitely tell you’re there as he gives you a smile. You smile back, forgetting he can’t see you. You mentally face-palm, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. He doesn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

He waves you forward, gesturing to the seat across from him. You debate on going in or not. The whole purpose of your walk was to get away from the thought of him. But now you were about to spend time with him.

Before you could make a decision, your feet began to walk you to the doors. You didn’t fight with your body, opening the library doors and walking over to Matt.

“Hello,” you say, your voice tight. “You know, stalking people is considered creepy,” he remarks. He takes one earbud out and resumes reading braille.

“Oh, how you flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes. “I wasn’t stalking you. I was taking a walk and happened to see you.”

“I see. And how was your walk? I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

“It was fine. I needed the fresh air. And no, you didn’t.”

“Good,” he nods.

You both sit in awkward silence. When you two were being civil to each other, it felt weird. Both of you were so used to insulting each other and feeling the thick, hot tension. Now that it wasn’t there, you weren’t sure what to do next.

“So, um, did you enjoy the chips?” You ask. He chuckles, “you’re asking me about chips?”

“I don’t know! You’re obviously busy. I don’t know why you invited me here,” you say.

“The company is nice,” he shrugs. Your lips upturn into a smile. “You like my company.”

“Hey, don’t let it get to your head. It’s already as big as it is.”

“Rude!” You scoff. “I could say the same thing about you. You are the most egotistical man I know.”

“I gotta make up for being blind somehow.”

Your smile becomes bigger. You lean forward, scooting your chair in. You lift your foot up, dragging it softly against his pant leg, putting pressure on his calf. “Not that you need to make it up, but I’m sure you have other ways of doing so.”

His breath hitches and his hands move slower on the page. “And what do you think do things are?”

You shrug, sliding across the table. “You tell me, Matty.” His name on your lips becomes breathy and rough. Matt’s heart is pounding in his chest. His skin is on fire. He can feel the heat radiating off of you. It takes everything in him not to move closer to you. He can smell your body wash from across the table, but it’s not enough. He wants to be drowned in your scent. He wants to bask in your touch and feel your kiss all over him.

“I got you, didn’t I?” You grin.

It takes him a few moments to recalibrate. “I-I have no idea what you’re doing about.”

You giggle, “alright, I’ll let you stay in denial.”

“Are you going to the mixer?” He asks, resuming reading braille. “I am not, sadly. You?” You ask.

He shakes his head.

You frown, “why not? You love those things. Free food and booze.”

“I do love those things,” he chuckles, “but I’m too busy tonight.”

“Oh, with what?” You’re intrigued. Usually Matt never is busy unless he has a date. Who was the lucky girl this time?

“I just have to study,” he explains. You scoff, “yeah, right. With which girl?”

He frowns, “with nobody.” “You’re skipping a social event to study? Doesn’t seem very Matt Murdock to me,” you state.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think then,” he shrugs. You narrow your eyes at him. “Why don’t I study with you, then? I’m not going either.”

You were planning to go. You decided last minute during your walk, but now you had an opening to spend time with Matt. You were going to have the whole night to annoy him. And you were never going to admit this, but you enjoyed his company. Each day you considered him more a friend than a rival. Each day your feelings for him grew.

“Why aren’t you going? I thought you loved those things?” He smirks.

“I’m busy tonight,” you echo his words. He grins, “alright. We can study together. But I’m studying for my ethics class. If you’re up for that.”

“Oh, please. I can pass ethics in my sleep,” you say. “You failed it last semester, right?” He says.

You kick his ankle under the table. “Do not speak of my failures! It’s very rude.”

He laughs, throwing his head back in joy. You can’t help but smile. His laugh was a sound you thoroughly enjoyed to hear. He began to pack up his textbooks and wrapped up his earbuds. He turns to you before getting up.

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

————

You’re quite nervous as you walk to Matt’s dorm. You feel like fainting. Your throat is dry and your heart continues to skip. Before you knock on his door, it opens. The sight of him makes your knees weak.

He’s not dressed in his usual jeans and button-up. He’s wearing grey sweatpants that are low on his hips, showing the waistline of his boxers. On his top, he’s wearing a wife-beater, showing off his muscles. You can’t stop staring.

“Come in,” he says, acting clueless. In reality, he can feel your stare. Your eyes burn his skin like a laser beam. He has to force himself to keep his cool.

“Thanks.” Your voice is small as you step in. You look around the room. It was as messy as the last time you’ve been there.

“Foggy’s at the mixer. I think he and Lara went together,” Matt says.

You nod, “they did. Lara couldn’t shut up about it.”

“Neither could Foggy,” Matt laughs.

You watch as he saunters over to his desk, sitting back down and reading the braille on the page. “Join me,” he suggests.

You do so, walking over slowly. You sit down in the chair next to him, placing your hands into your lap. “So, what am I helping you study with?” You ask.

“You can quiz me, I suppose,” he suggests. “Sure,” you nod.

He hands you Foggy’s copy of the textbook, which is not in braille.

“Open to chapter four,” Matt directs. You do so, eyes widening at the page. “This is a lot.”

“That’s why you failed, huh?” Matt grins. You roll your eyes. “Are you going to remind me of that all the time?”

“With every chance I get,” Matt confirms. “You’re so annoying,” you mutter.

“It’s part of my charm,” he remarks. “Is that how you get all the ladies? Or should I say, that’s how you drive them away?” You hum, flipping through the pages nonchalantly.

“Well, if that were true, you wouldn’t be here, yes?”

“I am not one of your ladies.”

He puts his hand on your knee, making you look up at him. He can feel your pulse race near your popliteal. Slick grows between your thighs as his fingers crawl up your skin, wrapping around your thigh and making their way up to your shorts. You suck in a breath, goosebumps forming on your skin as his warm hands smooth across your body.

He leans forward and you can feel his breath on your lips. The hot air fans your face, making you warm all over. His lips are millimeters from yours. Your eyes are studying them, watching with anticipation. He moves to your ear, darting his tongue out to lick the shell of your ear.

“You can become one,” he says huskily.

You gulp in reply. You can’t think straight. He’s never gotten this close to you. You’re infatuated by his scent. It fills your nostrils. All you can think about is him. Matt. Matt. Matt. You want to kiss him, taste him, feel him. Images of him towering over you in bed, his hands on your thighs, swinging your legs over his shoulders cloud your mind. You feel your panties dampen, your belly filling with need.

You want to give in. The whole year you two have been academic rivals, and your feelings for each other have grown. Romantic and sexual. First, it started with you imagining cuddling with him, and going on dates. But now you just want to rip his clothes off and have your way with him.

“You mean that?” You ask, staring at his lips.

His throat goes dry. He talks a big talk, but he’s never actually gone all the way. He’s had many girls in his room in the past, but usually, they’re the ones receiving most of the pleasure. And not that he minds. He loves pleasing and giving. But he’s been waiting for that special person, and honestly, he thinks that person is you.

“I-I —” his mind goes blank. He was teasing at first, and he knew his effect on you. He didn’t know if you were playing along or you meant it. The sincerity in your voice, and the pattern of your heart, all point to signs of you meaning it. But he doesn’t want to mistake wishful thinking with the truth.

“I want you, Matt,” you say. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I-I need you at this point. Please, tell me you’re not playing around this time.” Your hand moves up to his shirt and you clutch the collar, bringing his forehead on top of yours. You brush your lips across his, both of your hearts jumping out of your chests. His grip on your thigh firms and he reaches out with his other hand, placing it onto the curve of your hip.

“You’re serious?” He asks. “Yes,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench your thighs together, the thoughts of him not being enough. You fist his shirt tighter. “Are you?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer you verbally. Instead, he plants his lips on yours. His kisses are fervent but passionate. You melt against him immediately, both of your hands flying up to his neck. You bury your fingers into his hair, ruffling through the soft strands. You move from your seat to his, placing yourself on his lap and pressing your body close to his.

His hands slide under your thighs, lifting you and carrying you to the bed. He gently places you on his mattress, continuing to kiss you. His lips were soft and fit with yours. Kissing him feels like a wild fantasy. The way your teeth clashed, his saliva mixing with yours, how his touch filled you with sweet warmth. It’s all you could ever wish for.

He trails sweet kisses down your face, burying his face into your neck and sucking hickeys. His hands move from the back of your thighs to the top of your shorts. You can feel him hesitate as he feathers over the drawstring. 

“Undo it. Take it off.” You sound desperate and needy. Matt catches on the the tone of your voice, smiling against your skin. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 

His words make your heart flutter and his smile grows wider. He quickly undoes the strings, slowly taking your shorts off and dropping them to the floor. You watch with anticipation as his hands roam your lower body. His fingertips slowly feel over your panties, trying to figure out what material you’re wearing. 

“Cotton?” He guesses. “Bingo,” you breathe out as he brushes up against your clit. 

“What color?” He asks. “Red,” you answer. “My favorite,” he grins.

His hands skim under your shirt, making you shiver. You lower your head, not taking your eyes off of his curious touch as he touches your clothed tits. His thumbs lay flat across your bra cup, feeling your hardened nipples. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. Your body feels hot all over. “You think so?”

He nods eagerly. “I know so. I’ve always thought that about you.”

“Oh, really?” You hum. “Yep. Your charm, your scent, the way you walk, your voice, the clothes you wear. You’re gorgeous inside and out,” he explains. 

Your heart swells at his words. Your hands cup his face and you bring it up to yours, pressing his forehead to yours. “So are you, Matt. You have no idea how handsome you are. The first time I saw you, I just had to get to know you. And although you can be so irritating sometimes —” your voice breaks into a giggle. He mirrors your facial expressions, laughing with you. You caress his cheek lovingly, pecking his lips. “Your personality is what I like the most. The way you think, your confidence, your laugh, your intelligence. It’s all so sexy. I… I love it.”

He’s grinning like a madman now, and his face is the color of a firetruck. “I love everything about you, too. I’m so glad we became enemies.”

“Enemies might not be the right words now,” you say. “What do you want to call us now?” He asks. 

You loosen your grip on his face and allow him to go back to your neck. His tongue darts out and licks your flaming skin, his teeth nipping and causing you to moan. 

“Lovers?” You suggest. Your voice is heavy with lust. He smiles while he kisses your body. He licks a trail down your collar bone, tugging your shirt down to expose more skin. “I love the sound of that,” he remarks. 

You take the initiative and slip your shirt off, leaving you half-naked. Although you know he can’t see, the anxiety of being in your underwear for the first time in front of someone bubbles in your chest. He can feel your body and then decide if he truly likes it. That seems more daunting than him being able to see it. You knew how much Matt paid attention to detail, how he could pick a single scent out of a hundred, how he could somehow hear from miles away. You wonder if he’s going to be able to pick out your insecurities with one single move. 

“Bra is the same color?” He asks. “No. It’s black,” you answer. “I bet you look divine,” he says. “You feel like it.”

He runs down your body, his hands molding with your curves as he settles at your hips. His right hand stays while his left explores more. He goes up to your collar bone and neck, running across your soft skin. He finds your pulse, pressing up against the point, finding satisfaction in how it was racing. 

“Did I do this?” He asks. “What do you think?” You smirk. 

He chuckles, “I think I did. I like it. I like finally being able to indulge in my effects on you.”

“There’s more than just my heartbeat.” You take his right hand, dragging it down between your thighs. “If you’re interested,” you add, your grip on his hand faltering. 

He places his hand on your inner thigh. “Trust me, I am.” He scoots down the bed, spreading your legs and diving between them. He inhales deeply, your tangy arousal filling up his senses. He became hungry with lust, needing to taste you, needing to feel your warmth and wetness on his tongue. 

“Can I —?”

“Yes, Matt. Yes,” you nod eagerly. 

His pants tighten at your desperation. He slides your underwear to the side, dipping his finger in slowly. You let out a low hum, wiggling your hips closer to his hand. Matt is entranced by how you feel around his finger. How wet you’ve become for him.

“You’re like a slip ‘n slide, and I’ve barely done anything,” he remarks. “You better do something before I turn into a desert,” you say.

He chuckles darkly, lowering his lips to your pussy. Your eyes flutter as he places feather-light kisses on your mound, getting closer and closer to your clit.

“We both know just the sight of me makes you wet.” With his words, he enters his finger. You let out a gasp, eyes widening at the sudden feeling.

“Matt,” you moan as his tongue begins to flick your throbbing clit. You buck your face up to his mouth, enclosing your thighs around his face.

“Love it when you say my name like that,” he groans against your pussy. His lips enclose your clit and he slips another finger in, curling his fingertips to hit your g-spot.

A string of whimpers and curses fall from your lips. You’re gripping the bed and the hair at the top of his head, your back arching with each suck and lick.

“M-Matt. Fuck,” you groan as he adds another finger. Your toes are curling at the end of the bed, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back. The tip of his tongue flicks your clit, his teeth gently tugging on the sensitive bud. He lays his tongue flat against you, licking a long stripe up to your clit, sucking on it. The sounds his mouth makes are filthy. The sounds of him fingering you fill the room, along with your moans. The way your juices slide with the motions of his fingers fills his ears. He is right where he wants to be: engulfed in you.

Your walls clench his fingers and he knows you’re about to cum. Your muscles contract and the pitch of your moans become higher and higher. You chant his name like a prayer, your back arching one last time before you completely relax into the bed.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them dry. “Taste even better than I would have thought.”

You smile at his words, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him close. You crash his lips onto yours, slipping your tongue into his mouth. You taste yourself on his lips, moaning softly at the tangy taste.

“Was that okay?” Matt pulls away.

You cup his face on both sides, taking in his flushed featured and messy hair. “It was perfect. Thank you.”

He nods and smiles. “I’m glad you think so. I-Is there anything you want me to do differently next time?”

“Oh, next time?” You giggle. His cheeks turn red and he lowers his head. “I-I mean, I was thinking —”

“Nothing that I can think of, Matt,” you shake your head. You peck his lips a few times, running your hands through his hair before you fully kiss him.

Matt settles himself between your legs. As he does so, you feel his boner poke the inside of your thigh. The feeling sparks need and nervousness inside of you. If you two were to go all the way, then it would be your first time. You are positive that it would not be Matt’s next time, which is what makes you nervous. But the thought of him being your first fills you with need. Slick grows between your thighs and you reach one of your hands down to palm him.

He chokes a little while you kiss him. You squeeze his erection, beginning to move up and down.

“Y-You don’t have to do anything in return. I like giving,” Matt breathes out.

“And I like giving as well,” you grin.

He lets out a breathy laugh, his hands clutching the pillow above you as you reach into his sweatpants and underwear.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans. “Your touch is heavenly.”

Your face flushes at his words. Your thumb swipes over his tip, collecting the accumulated pre-cum. You sit up on your elbow, placing your lips up to his ear. You lick the shell of his ear, nibbling on the sweet spot behind his ear lob. Breathy moans from him fill your ears. Your heart flutters with each one. The pace of your arm gets faster as you speak.

“I want you inside of me, Matt. I need you inside of me,” you breathe out.

You expect him to agree, get a condom, and get to work, but instead he stops all movement and pull away.

“W-What?” He sputters. He sits in shock. Your words echo in his head, causing his pants to tighten further. He becomes caught up in imagining what it would feel like. He knows how wet you can be. He knows how your body reacts to him. His heart thumps in his chest as he imagines fucking you.

How you feel embarrassed and ashamed. You begin to question yourself. You thought he would want it, that he would want you. You curse yourself in your head, tears of humiliation filling your eyes. How could you be so stupid? You should have asked him if he even wanted to have sex tonight.

Matt shakes himself from day dreaming as he hears you sniffle. He places his hand onto your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “I-I’m sorry,” you say. “I should have asked and no assumed. Of course you don’t want to have sex with me. I’m a virgin and guys get weird about girls being —”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Matt rushes out. He takes your hand and sits you up, placing you on his lap. “Who said I didn’t want to have sex with you?”

“Just the way you reacted.”

His face falls. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to react in a bad way. I was actually imagining what it would be like with you. I like the idea very much. I love it.”

“Really?” Your brows raise. He nods. “Yes. But there’s something you need to know, too.”

“What, you have a small dick?” You smirk. “Ha-ha, very funny. You already know I don’t,” he states.

“Oh, Mr. Confident, I see,” you hum.

“Okay, seriously,” Matt says. “I… I’m also a virgin.”

Your eyes pop out of their sockets. “What?”

He frowns. “What do you mean “what”? Is it that obvious?”

“No! I mean, it’s obvious that you aren’t. You’re really telling me you never slept with Elektra?” You ask.

“We did things, but not full on intercourse,” he shakes his head. His cheeks turn to a dark red as he continues. “I’ve been saving myself for the right person. And… I believe that person is you.”

Your heart bursts at his words. Your face lights up with a smile and you crash your lips onto his, kissing him slowly and passionately. “You have no idea how great it is to hear that. It’s the same for me, too.” 

“Really?” He can’t hide the smile growing on his face. You rest your forehead on his, giving him an Eskimo kiss. “Yes, really.”

His hand snakes to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “In that case, can I— can I have sex you?”

You giggle, “yes. Yes you can.”

“Lay down that gorgeous body of yours. I’ll get a condom,” he says.

You do so, taking off your remaining clothing. You watch with a pounding heart as he undresses, rolling the condom onto his length. He climbs back into the bed, taking your hips in his hands.

“Are you ready?” He asks. “Yes. Well, wait,” you say. Your hands reach up to his face and you take ahold of his glasses. “Can we take these off?” You ask.

He turns shy. “U-Um, you sure? A lot of people become uncomfortable when they see my eyes. Since I don’t really know what to look at I just stare into space. I don’t want to weird you out.”

“You won’t,” you shake your head. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. I just realized that I’ve never seen your eyes before. I would like to see them if it’s okay.”

“A-Alright. Sure,” he stammers.

You slowly slide his glasses off, smiling once you see his eyes. He has beautiful hazel eyes, specks of green and golden brown shining in the light’s reflection.

“I-Is it okay? You haven’t said anything,” he says.

You cup his face, bringing it close to his. “You’re perfect, Matt. All of you. Your eyes are so pretty. I can’t believe I’ve never seen them.”

He blushes red. You can feel the warmth under your hands.

“Thank you,” he says bashfully.

“Of course, Matty.” You lean up and peck his lips, your hands feeling over every inch of his body. You settle at his waist, pulling him in. “I’m ready when you are.”

He nods, “okay. Just let me know if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable. We can stop anytime.”

“I will,” you smile.

You spread your legs open, your knees resting next to his thighs as he slips inside of you. He moves in so slow, you can’t feel anything. But as two inches fills you, you begin to feel a searing pain.

Your nails dig into the flesh on his shoulders. You whimper in pain. “Stop, stop, stop.”

He does so immediately, beginning to pull out, but you stop him.

“No, no. Just stay there. Let me get used to you,” you say.

“Are you sure? It might hurt —”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You wiggle under him, spreading your legs more to accommodate him. He was big, that was for sure. An inch or two above average, but it was his girth that made it hurt. Being a virgin, all you’ve had were fingers and a couple of sex toys inside of you. Nothing felt like this, though.

“Alright. It feels better now. You can start moving again,” you direct.

He nods, his eyes fixating on your collarbone as he moves inside of you. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he moves further. He’s already addicted to the way you feel. How your walls hug him, how easily he slips in. It feels like heaven.

“Okay, okay. Stop again,” you pant.

He’s only halfway in, but you don’t think you can take anymore. Not tonight, anyways. “I-I’m sorry. This is all I can —”

Matt shuts you up with a kiss. “Please, don’t be sorry. There is nothing to be sorry for. If you’d like to continue, I will stay this deep. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” You ask. “No,” he shakes his head. “Honestly, this is perfect. I mean, any inch of me being inside of you feels perfect. But this - this is amazing.”

You reach up to kiss him, furrowing your brows as you put all your feelings into it. “You’re so sweet, Matt. Who knew?”

“Ah, now, c’mon. I thought we were past that,” he smirks.

You giggle, “never.”

“Mm, good. You’re the only one I like being passive aggressive with.” He nuzzled his nose with yours.

“Me, too, baby,” you hum. “You can start moving now, by the way. Just go slow, please.”

“Your wish is my command,” he says.

He pulls back slightly, moving forward and reaching the same point he did. He does this a few times, feeling you become more comfortable with him each time. He stops suddenly, feeling embarrassed as he didn’t know what to do. It’s not like he could watch sex to know what to do. And usually the girls took the initiative and went on top.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. “I-I… I don’t really know what to do,” he says.

“Me neither,” you let out a breathy laugh.

You fall silent for a moment, racking your brain for the next step. You wrap your arms around his neck, putting your feet up on the bed.

“Move out of me and then slowly slip in again,” you suggest.

“Okay,” he nods. He does so, slipping out to where only the head of his cock is still inside of you. He slowly moves forward. The action draws a long and low moan out of you. Your fingers tighten around his neck, your hips bucking up, causing him to slip in further. To your surprise, it didn’t hurt.

Your heart palpitates as he hits your pleasure point. You rest your hips back down into the mattress, your mind a little hazy at the feeling.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He takes your silence as pain.

“Yes, yes,” you nod. “Move, um, move further, please.”

“Okay,” he nods. He slides into you more. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

“Matt,” you moan at the stretch. “Mm, keep going.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He begins to move in and out of you, the sounds of your juices moving around his dick filling his ears. He buries his face in your neck, gently sucking your skin as he makes love to you. You moan his name with each thrust, soon becoming immersed in how he feels inside of you. You knew it would feel good, but you didn’t know it would feel this good.

You love how he just fits right inside of you. It’s like he was made for you. How his cock stretched you out perfectly, to where you can feel it but it wasn’t destroying you. How gentle but firm he was being. How loving his hands on your body felt. How his hot breath fanned your neck and gave you goosebumps.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he groans. He thrusts become slightly faster as the seconds pass. He still moves gently, though, keeping in mind not to hurt you.

His breathy moans make your lower stomach tighten. He can feel your walls squeeze him, causing his cock to twitch inside of you. You can feel it. You want more.

“So do you,” you moan. You push yourself up on your elbows, crashing your lips onto his in a bruising kiss. You struggle to kiss him back, moaning and whimpering every second. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as they close, the head of his dick hitting that sweet spot perfectly. Just the right speed and force to make your toes curl.

One of his hands reaches up and grasps your hand. He intertwines his fingers and brings your arm up to rest above your head. Your heart flutters in response, and you can’t help but smile at the sweet gesture.

“You’re so perfect,” Matt moans. He trails kisses down your neck, sucking and biting along the way.

You run your free hand down his chest, taking in his beautiful physique. “So are you,” you hum, your hand grabs his lower back, pulling him into you further.

“Fuck,” you pant as he slides further into you.

“My God,” Matt pants, squeezing his eyes shut. “Shit, Y/n. I-I’m close.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, me, too. Matt, fuck. Can you go a little faster?”

“Of course,” he nods. He picks up the pace, deciding to add more than just speed. He takes his free hand and wets his thumb, reaching between your sweaty bodies and finding your clit.

Your pussy pulsates around his cock as he begins to rub the throbbing bud. You squeeze his hand that you’re still holding, panting your heels into the mattress and bucking your hips up to meet his.

“Oh, Matt.” Your moans become high-pitched and breathy, your chest heaving up and town. Your lower stomach tightens and a familiar feeling dwells up.

“Fuck, Y/n. I love you,” Matt mumbles as he cums. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, his movements faltering to a complete stop.

Your back arches and your muscles tighten before you completely relax. You let out a satisfied hum, letting yourself bask in your daze.

Matt’s sweaty body collapses next to you. He slowly pulls out of you, taking off his condom and throwing it in the trashcan next to the bed.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks. “Yes,” you breathe out. “Are you?”

“I am more than okay. That was… was just…”

You giggle tiredly, “I agree. That was indescribable.”

“In a good way?” He worries.

“Yes.” You put your hand on his face, kissing him sweetly. “I have to use the bathroom quickly.”

“Go ahead. Do you need anything when you come back? Water, a snack? Do you need help with anything?” He questions.

“Some water would be nice,” you say. “Okay. I’ll get you some,” he hurried out of the bed.

“Hey,” you call out. “Yeah?” He asks as he’s putting back on his clothes.

“Get yourself some, too. And a snack. You worked really hard tonight.”

He smiles, “will do.”

You use the bathroom and clean yourself up, returning to his room and finding Matt cleaning up the bed.

“Here are your clothes. I noticed you chose to wear mine.” He points to your folded clothes on his desk.

You smile, “thank you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I definitely don’t,” he grins. You sit back on the bed, thanking him as he hands you a glass of water.

“Did you enjoy it?” You ask. “You have no idea,” he says.

“Good. I… I’m glad I’m good at sex. Although I didn’t do anything,” you snort. “Trust me, you don’t need to do anything. Did I do well?” He asks shyly.

“Oh, for sure.” You scoot towards him and put your hand on his chest. “Maybe we can do this again, yeah?”

“Really?” He raises his brows. “Yep. Maybe after you take me out to dinner?” You suggest.

“Oh, definitely. I’d love to. As long as you’re okay with cafeteria food for dinner,” he chuckles.

You hum in contentment, leaning forward and pecking his lips. “As long as you’re there, I’m okay with anything.”

————

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[just-a-creep-babe]

Congrats on 4K! Remember that one ask sent in about habit trying everything he can to get someone else to love him and getting frustrated when they don't? If you can, could you write something based around that? Doesn't have to be long or anything, please don't feel pressured to do it!

Pftbftvshgbt I don’t remember exactly what it was, but I think I remember the gist of it. I hope this is alright and you enjoy! ^^

Masterlist: x

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

You wake up in an empty room

Sunlight streams through the curtains, bathing everything in a gentle golden glow

You groan, wanting nothing more than to stuff your face back into the pillow and forget you exist

You roll over, and you’re suddenly caught off-guard by a rabbit plushie staring you down, holding a felt heart in its fluffy paws

“Ugh”

You grimace and turn it the other way so that its beady little eyes can’t watch you sleep

To your (unwelcome) surprise, flipping it over reveals a small piece of paper with delicate cursive writing

If you had to guess, you’d say the hearts dotting the “i's” meant it was a love note

Another groan, and you crumple the note and throw it across the room

For the next few minutes, with your face buried in the pillow, you can nearly forget where you are and why you’re here

It’s almost blissful; pretending everything’s normal and you aren’t, in fact, some demon’s miserable prisoner

But alas, your peace is ever fleeting

You know you’ll have to get up eventually

So with a sigh and a grunt, you leave the warmth of the bed to fix yourself some breakfast

The house has, unfortunately, become somewhat of a comforting familiarity

You’ve memorized all the crooked frames lining the walls, all the spots that make the floorboards creak when you walk over them, all the dust mites and spider webs clinging to the floors and ceilings

Really, you can almost trick yourself into believing this place isn’t so bad

If it weren’t for the monster that lurks these halls, you’d probably enjoy it here

As you step through the open kitchen door, the smell of pancakes and bacon fills the air, giving the room a welcoming smell

It’d almost be appetizing—if you didn’t know who was responsible

And as soon as you see the overzealous display he’s left for you on the table, you scoff

There’s a plate loaded with food, a cup of fresh coffee with some juice and water next to it, and your napkin’s been folded into a dove next to the plate

The usual single red rose sits in a vase at the center of the table, almost as if beckoning you to the meal

Despite the enjoyable smell and appearance, your appetite’s diminished at the presentation

You walk over to the fridge, toast a single piece of bread, and miserably scrape some butter onto it

Right as you’re about to take your first bite, Habit walks in

The atmosphere immediately changes as he looks at you, looks at the table he prepared for you, then looks at the sad piece of toast in your hands

You try to ignore the tension as you munch down on your breakfast

Despite his obvious frustration, he seems to chipper up relatively quickly

“Morning, bunny!” he greets, making his way to the fridge, “sleep well?”

You answer with a noncommittal hum while chewing your bland toast

“Read my note?”

You swallow, the lump of food feeling dry down your throat

“No,” you pause, “No, I didn’t, actually”

“...Why not?”

His voice splits, his demonic presence showing through, and you know he’s not happy with you

You’d almost be scared if it weren’t for the fact that you know he wouldn’t hurt you—not if he’s trying to make you his mate, anyways

Which he most definitely is

You shrug

“I don’t know. I just didn’t”

Hoping he won’t push it any further, you squeeze past him in an attempt to escape the conversation

But with blinding speed, he grabs you by the arm, whips you around, and pins you to the now closed fridge door

His body’s warm and firm as he presses himself into you, his muscles effectively pinning you down and trapping you

“Rabbit.”

His voice splits again, though this time it resonates from somewhere deeper in his chest

A chill run up your spine at the threatening lilt of your pet name

Maybe you shouldn’t be so certain he wouldn’t hurt you

He raises a hand, stroking your cheek with his knuckle

“Why?” he growls

The gentle motion of affection combined with the menacing implications of his voice are nearly enough to give you whiplash

You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to react, so you try to play dumb in the hopes that he’ll let you off more easily 

“Why what?”

You hate the way your voice trembles

“Why,” he pushes his body closer into yours, like he’s trying to intimidate you with his stronger form

And fuck if it isn’t working

“Why do you insist on being so difficult?” he all but snarls the question out

“What do you mean?”

You’re almost grateful for the way he’s pushing into you—at least your legs don’t feel as shaky as they otherwise would

“Don’t play stupid,” he hisses, “Accept your fate, rabbit. Before I stop giving you a choice”

You know you should quit being so hard-headed and defiant

Maybe it’s your pride, or your unshakeable stubbornness, or maybe it’s some stupid hope that resisting him might grant your freedom faster

Whatever it is, it has you setting your jaw and balling your fists

As if it could give you courage

“...No”

You don’t know how you expected him to react

You certainly didn't expect him to push away from you, chuckling

He sounds amused, and somehow, it’s even more terrifying than if he was angry 

“By all means,” he stretches his arms out in a grand gesture, “If that’s what you want—then so be it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you”

You watch as he turns around and leaves

You’re left alone in the kitchen, and the silence is suddenly deafening

You chew your lip, only now realizing you’d dropped your toast sometime along the way

Your eyes dart to the table, where steam still rises from the fresh coffee

A second passes as you consider your options

And then you open the fridge, pull out another bland piece of bread, and set it into the toaster

#creepypasta #habit #slenderverse #habit x reader #emh

[insomniac-jay]

Spotlights, Dark Knights

Fancy events weren't Terry's thing so it took Marietta a lot of convincing to get him to come with her.

"How do guys wear these things?" Terry grunted, tugging at the collar of the dress shirt. Even his Batman costume was more comfortable than this. It was his first, and likely last, time ever wearing a suit.

Marietta unbuttoned the shirt a bit as well as fanning him just in case he was hot. "You've never worn a suit before? What do you think you'll have to wear at a job interview? Or any formal event?"

"I can manage. Besides, I'm only going for you."

Marietta smiled. Even though he wasn't particularly fond of high society and celebrities, Terry still went out of his way to support her whenever he could. Of course she wanted it to be within his boundaries, but appreciated when he stepped out of them just a little bit.

Hooking her arm into his, the pair walked into the building. Every eye in the room went on them.

Terry gulped. He wasn't used to being in large groups or the center of attention out of costume. Feeling Marietta gently squeeze his hand gave him a small boost of confidence.

"Feeling nervous?" Marietta whispered.

"Not a fan of big crowds." Terry followed her through the sea of guests holding her hand the entire time. She made small talk with some of them, Terry just waving in the back.

Her hand is so warm and soft, he thought to himself once they got to a good spot. Most times he touched it was when it was gloved. Maybe he'd need to find excuses to hold Marietta's hand more.

Marietta smiled at him as she motioned to a tray of complementary burgers. "Hungry?"

"Yeah. Talking to rich people works up an appetite." Terry took a few and stuffed them in his mouth. "How do you do this?"

"Well, I-"

"Mari!"

The teens turned to see Poppy, Marietta's mother, making her way to them. Her presence commanded attention, even being dressed from head to toe in designer. "There you are! Oh, you even brought a friend!"

"Mom, this is Terry. Terry, this is my mom," Marietta introduced them.

"It's nice to meet you, Terry. Welcome to my party." Poppy gave him her signature gap tooth smile that made her look ageless. "I hope you have a good time."

"Me too, ma'am." Terry nodded.

Once alone, Marietta and Terry began to talk. Mostly about her investigations into the shady business of her label. Terry often worried for her since she was just one person going up against a powerful company; the night she almost fell to her death being further evidence.

"I can help you if you want." Terry said.

"Terry, I'm fine. I learned my lesson from the night we met." Marietta reassured him. Much as she loved him, she needed Terry to stay out of this. She could afford to lose what she had now despite not wanting to, he couldn't.

"Marietta-"

"You gotta trust me, Terry. Same way I trust you."

Terry frowned though Marietta was right. This was her mission and her mission alone. It'd be rude to diminish her skills or how far she'd come. All he could do was come to her aid and be her peace in the darkest hour.

"Alright, but just know I will come save you when you fall again."

She smiled again. I bet you will, Terrbear.

After raising a small toast and indulging in the food, the couple headed to the dancefloor. Terry was thankful for the lessons Marietta gave him on slow dancing since he was more used to clubs. The warmth of her body consumed him along with her perfume.

Having her close to him especially when they were dancing was enjoyable.

No matter how many times she practiced with him, her body always turned to water when he held her this close. Marietta was no stranger to slow dancing in the slightest; but when her partner was Terry, it was different.

They looked into each other's eyes, gliding towards a window as their dance prolonged. Everything around them ceased, only they existed.

The slowing time and loss of reality brought both back to the moment they almost kissed. Terry brushing his hand along her waist, Marietta keeping even tighter hold of his hand, foreheads pressed together--the mood was perfect. Neither wanted nothing more than to have that again, hoping it would result in an actual kiss.

Beep! Beep!

Unfortunately that would have to wait.

Terry cursed himself and the crime alert. Being a hero really was a full time job. He was gonna get that kiss eventually.

"I gotta go, Mari."

"Go. I won't hold nothing against you. Though I doubt you'll get a welcome from the feds," Marietta joked while leading him to a back door. "What is it they call you?"

"A peacock," Terry answered while changing into his costume. "Least I'm about my shit."

"That you are." Marietta planted a kiss on his cheek. "Be brave, Terrbear."

Terry gave her a kiss on the cheek of his own before heading off. Not exactly the one he wanted, but he was satisfied for now.

@punkeropercyjackson @mayameanderings

#jay's writings #ship: terrietta

[grandmagbignaturals]

re: i guess the next post you'll see from me.

I feel constantly on edge about whether or not i should be talking more about Palestine tbh. Main reasons I haven't been sharing much have been a) inability to vet information right now due to diminished mental capacity and b) the feeling of suicidal hopelessness around my own incapability that i end up spiraling into when I think about it for too long the second thing is not even about Palestine. Not really. It's the way i'm struggling with everything right now. the fact that point 1 even exists, that I'm struggling so much to read and parse information at the moment, and barely have the energy for basic self care like showering and eating and leaving the house makes, while I want to be Organizing and Community Building and Protesting and Staying Informed has been absolutely defeating me.

And this is so deeply personal, which is why i didnt want to put it on that post. bc i'm not trying to 'whataboutme' i just want to express my feelings because it's shit i have only said to my therapist and i need to talk about more because i need to keep acknowledging the place im in!

right now, waiting to find out if there's something in my gut thats literally stealing my nutrients, if my fatigue is post-viral or inflammatory or somehow caused by internal bleeding or cancer or who the fuck knows. While i'm too fatigued to emotionally cope with my dog misbehaving. While I literally have no appetite and even though i schedule food, i sometimes forget to eat. NOW

I'm beating myself up for not doing more. constantly. About everything. Climate change, local politics, making friends with the guy across the way, not having a job.

And I feel like if I don't document it, i'll either die and nobody will know how frustrated i am/was for the last while, or everything will fade into nothingness, the memories of this period of my life erased by my disintegrating brain, or the trauma of All Of This.

I wish i could do more. If I could, I would. I gotta keep telling myself that. That im not just being a coward, or lazy. but damn. I wish I could do more.

#personal

[living-with-cml]

Things People Say

This is mostly just me venting, but I have had a lot of really STUPID and unhelpful things said to me in the last five years. For the most part, I am able to let it roll off of me and chalk it up to good intentions, or at worst, ignorance. But there are two that have really gotten to me - one just yesterday.

The first one (and I’m paraphrasing) was that if I was just more optimistic my cancer and treatment and subsequent side effects would improve and I’d get better. Excuse me! What?! There are several problems with this. 1) I cannot Pollyanna my way out of having cancer 2) I’ve always been a realist. This is not to be confused with pessimism. With everything in my life, I face it head on and all the possibilities - good and bad. This is a basic part of who I am, and I am not changing it b/c you don’t think it’s how I should approach my (read MY, not your) cancer 3) No one (and I mean NO ONE) has the right to tell another person how to feel - about anything, but especially about their own illness.

Yesterday, an individual that has barely seen me in the last 5 years said that they were talking to another CML patient and that I should know that I can have a normal life, and some don’t even require treatment. Whew! What a relief! ONE stranger said it to another nonexpert, so it must be true (*heavy sarcasm*). Let’s not even talk about how wildly inaccurate this is. As in, treatment is an immediate necessity unless you want to die, and it is still recommended for a lifetime. However, they are trialing letting people off for treatment-free periods as long as the numbers stay down. I had so many health issues and complications from the cancer and treatment (some of which were life-threatening and some that affected my vision), that for me it was the best choice at the time. It was not a decision myself or my doctor made lightly, and I have very little wiggle room before resuming treatment, whenever that may be. But rest assured, this random person says I can have a normal life (eye roll). Yeah, if by “normal” you mean still being in pain every day and fatigue worsening to the point I had to start PT for cancer fatigue - even with 6 mos. off the chemo. If by “normal” you mean that the number of pills I need to take every day just to function keeps increasing because of conditions that were caused by the treatment or the cancer itself - anemia that keeps worsening, a swallowing disorder, loss of appetite, altered taste, getting sick at the drop of a hat and staying sick for weeks or months, balance issues, the aforementioned pain, walking, the handicap sticker that has switched from temporary to more long-term last month, and the list goes on. I used to have perfect eyes and teeth, too which is no longer true. Can I live for a long time with this cancer? Yes. Is it what I would call “normal”? No! Not even close! I am very lucky to here, but I cannot stand when someone diminishes everything I have been through because their own experience has been (thankfully) different. And when someone that knows me, takes that more to heart than what I’ve gone through. EVERY CANCER PATIENT IS DIFFERENT AND HAS A UNIQUE PERSPECTIVE ON IT! THERE ARE NO TWO EXPERIENCES THAT ARE ALIKE! So, stop trying to fit me into the box you think I should be in or someone else tells you I should be in. Every day has been a struggle, but I still get up and fight. Saying anything less about my journey is condescending and reductive and takes away just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am. 

I am still here. But it took a lot to get me to the place I’m in now. And I didn’t do it alone. I know that. But, comments like this are so not helpful. There’s a difference between being positive and supportive, and just being dismissive. Do your family and friends with cancer a favor, and don’t say things like this. And for goodness sakes, just listening to their story goes a long way, too. I think we all want to be seen and heard <3 <3 <3

#CML #Cancer #Venting #Support #thingsnottosay #listen #notnormal #and that's okay #i'm not okay #Still snuck an MCR reference in

[doodleslice]

Skyscraper I remember when I was One thousand feet tall A Parisian kaiju Tragically misunderstood I knocked over the Eiffel Tower And got my foot caught Under the Pont Neuf Fly boats crashed my ankle It never made the papers The Parisian press may be crass But never gauche And the tower was set right Now I tear crumbs From a stale baguette Diminished, ordinary Wishing I could say Say, “Ooh la la” Without sounding so provincial Without relying On borrowed memories The fire in my belly No longer radioactive Just ordinary ambition Masquerading as an appetite Feed me power lines And unfinished chapters And I will tower again Misunderstood A glowing thorn In history’s embrace ___ By Doodleslice 2023-03-29 (at Doodleslice Dojo) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqZJVyuuFQD/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[xtrablak674]

Still Processing...

But my red pants arrived today.

And life must go on so I tried them on and of course documented this.

Then I realized after tearing the cuff near the hem that Houston we have a problem.

This is my third pair of leather pants, and the previous two both had a liner from the waist to to the hem and finished hems.

Of course I contacted the boutique that had them made in Turkey and expressed my concern about the unfinished hem and the lack of liner below the knee.

Also realizing that in addition to the repair of the tear I would need to have a liner built also, so my four hundred dollar pants may end up being one hundred dollars more...

Regarding the passing of my first sibling, I am still processing and I am still in the middle of it, a friend suggested journaling and I said I can't write about it until I have finished processing it and am not smack dab in the middle of it.

I spent the day DM's or texting any and everyone in my apps who knew of my brother to tell him of his passing and I learned both of Aunt Mary's sons passed and of course no one had told me.

The shit that really fucks me up is, how do I continue to follow the social norm of familial obligations but everyone around me seems to fail.

Everyone assumes everyone is on social media and then offer insincere condolences while they really want to unburden themselves about their own issues and struggles.

I didn't give anyone room for that, I sent my initial message that my brother was dead. And when they responded I sent then a screenshot of my post on FB which gave additional information.

Most everyone who got the second message had nothing more to say, exactly as I had planned it. I wasn't participating in niceties with anyone who couldn't take the time to keep me informed about deaths, births or sicknesses. #fuckemall

I need to be here for the children, all six of them.

Lost the blood in my hands right after I heard, my appetite was diminished the first part of the day and I didn't really go off menu when I resumed eating sometime after noon.

Musically I have been soothing my spirit with Mary J. Blige, Stevie Wonder, Al Greene, Aretha Franklin, Miles Davis and Jose Gonzalez.

Now I am going to bed and considering how it is both my parents have proceeded me as have all of my grandparents and now my youngest brother.

#family #death notices #familial obligations #disappointment #phony condolences #self care #Fuck em all #survivor

[kittiekilla]

Modern Satine

My life is a routine. Although, I wouldn’t exactly call it boring. I’d wake up at an odd time on a Friday, around 10AM, but usually I’d wake up at 2PM. Nocturnality becomes me… as if I had a say in the matter. Then, I’d wash the dishes, fold my clothes, and whip up a quick meal. Getting ready to face the world, minding the time. The hardest part about this is the part that comes next. I’d often think, painting my face is like a game of pretend. Once the rouge is applied, Satine appears. I humbly welcome my role turning into her. My foundation would turn into a protective steel armor, shielding me from the monsters of the night that try to approach closer. You can look, but please be careful not to look too close. Foundation can only cover so much. My fears are bound to be unveiled lest the monsters take one step closer, diminishing the comfortable distance between us. It’s not their rejection I fear, it’s their unwelcome advances that I could only pray my galvanized armor could protect me from. Like I said, foundation can only cover so much.

I lied. I fear their rejections. I still feel like a little kid with her scraped, bleeding knees. Crying and throwing a huge tantrum because I abandoned my bicycle on the sidewalk after I crashed landed on my knees. Begging for forgiveness, begging to be praised “oh, what a good girl”, even though I hurt myself badly and ruined a perfectly new dress. I just wanted to be loved, is that so bad? Twelve years has flown by and I am still an insecure little girl pleading to be chosen. In a room full of beautiful girls, will you choose me?

Alas, I’m standing here, facing my playground. This red light district is my home, it’s a place where hidden desires creep through the cracks. I’d put on a red dress, dance the streets for money, I don’t care if it’s wrong or right. The night would consume me, I’d turn numb yet I’d never felt more alive. It’s the only place where I can feel blood coursing through my veins for the first time, in a long time. A place where eager boys turn into men, and the men, turn into charming brutes. The moment I step on that stage, the feeling I crave becomes more apparent. The sudden surge of adrenaline as if all eyes were on me. I’d turn into a full-blown addict with only one cure to my insatiable appetite- an irresistible impulse to deliver their expectations and beyond. I’m a ringmaster commanding this lawless arena, the seductress who could put these Sultans in a trance. With a playful smile and innocent eyes, I’m a succubus seeking to drain these willing sadists. I am Satine.

Now I’m sitting in this empty room and the clock is not stopping for me, or anyone. I blankly stare into space whilst the leather of this crooked chair sinks into my behind, leaving red indents. It is now tomorrow, the future is not guaranteed, but I know that Satine will be here.

[alwaysfirst]

New Zealand pacer Trent Boult to be released from national contract

Aug 10, 2022 14:42 IST Wellington , August 10 (AF): New Zealand Cricket (NZC) announced on Wednesday that pace spearhead Trent Boult will be released from his central contract so that he can spend more time with his family while also making himself available for domestic leagues. The 33-year-old fast bowler requested the release after several conversations with NZC, which today agreed to the arrangements. The move means Boult, who has taken 317 Test wickets, 169 at the ODI level, and 62 in T20I cricket, will have a significantly reduced role with the Blackcaps during his final years in the game, while still being eligible for selection if and when available. NZC chief executive David White said in a statement that the left-armer had made it clear during discussions that his appetite for touring had diminished, and that he wished to spend more time with his family. "We respect Trent's position," said White. "He has been completely honest and up-front with us about his reasoning and, while we are sad to be losing him as a fully-contracted player, he leaves with our best wishes and our sincere thanks." "Trent has made a massive contribution to the Blackcaps since his Test debut in late 2011 and is now considered one of the best multi-format cricketers in the world. We are very proud of what he's achieved." White said he was confident Boult understood what the decision meant in terms of his international playing future. "We have had several conversations and I know Trent understands that, in terms of selection, NZC will continue to make a priority of those players with either central or domestic contracts." Boult said it had been a difficult call to make. "This has been a really tough decision for me and I would like to thank NZC for their support in getting to this point. Playing cricket for my country was a childhood dream and I am so proud of everything I have been able to achieve with the Blackcaps over the past 12 years." "Ultimately this decision is about my wife Gert and our three young boys. Family has always been the biggest motivator for me and I feel comfortable with putting it first and preparing ourselves for life after cricket," he added. He said he understood the move would diminish his chances of playing for the BLACKCAPS. "I still have a big desire to represent my country and feel I have the skills to deliver at the international level. However, I respect the fact that not having a national contract will affect my chances of selection. Having said that, as a fast bowler I know I have a limited career span, and I feel the time is right to move into this next phase," he concluded. (AF) Read the full article

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish. 

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything. 

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge. 

“Yes, darling?” 

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.” 

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected. 

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself. 

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?” 

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

-

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day. 

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.” 

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them.  “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment. 

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive. 

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands. 

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him. 

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to  let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.”  He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.” 

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting. 

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too. 

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his. 

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. 

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured. 

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin. 

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. 

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste. 

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him. 

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed. 

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?” 

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind. 

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.  

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place. 

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers. 

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully. 

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage. 

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.” 

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him. 

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty. 

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer. 

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.” 

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw. 

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips. 

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach.  Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation. 

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you. 

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep. 

NextChapter

#hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x reader #reader insert #smut #hannibal #Hannibal nbc #Hannibal x reader

[palmtreepalmtree]

I lost a very close online friend this morning. Her death was sudden and unexpected. I say 'online' because that's how we met and much of our friendship was long-distance. But Leslie was very much a present person in my life for the past 15 years. And now she's gone.

There were good long stretches of our friendship where we talked on the phone practically every day. She's kept me company on long drives up and down the California coast and on short trips to the supermarket. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about, Leslie and I.

She supported me through law school and losing my dad. I think it's possible she understood me better than almost anyone else in my life, save a few of my closest friends.

Leslie was a private person. There were things she still kept from me, no matter how close we became. I don't think she wanted me to know how much pain she was in and how much her mobility was diminishing. But I know that over the years that we knew each other, her life had gotten increasingly difficult. I know that our friendship began because we started to write collaboratively together online, but she quit typing and using a computer about seven years ago because it was too painful. And in the most recent months, holding the phone so she could talk was becoming a burden.

She grew up in New Orleans where she went to Catholic school, a difficult environment for someone who was queer. Though she had fond memories of New Orleans and beautiful stories about her life there, including time spent with a loving grandmother, her childhood was not an easy one.

Most of her life she spent in Texas. When she was able, she worked as a veterinary technician, and carried that care for animals throughout her life. She had compassion for all living things. She was passionate about progressive politics and social justice and protecting queer youth.

Leslie was incredibly creative and witty. For every good story idea I had, she had three more. She was full of clever quips. We spent a lot of nights laughing together. In our little writing community, her characters and her stories were always some of the most popular and engaging.

And she was a kind and generous writing partner. When we first started writing together, I was young and perfectly happy to write heart-wrenching stories about terrible things happening to our characters. But as I got older, and the heart-wrenching things started to happen to me and the people I cared about in my real life, my appetite for that sort of writing disappeared. I didn't want to do it anymore. And Leslie never complained or was disappointed. She just supported me and together we found new ways to have fun together and write other types of interesting things.

She was a tremendous friend. She was an incredible listener and an enthusiastic supporter. She was the sort of person who always remembered to tell me the new thing from the supermarket she thought I'd really like, or the new recipe she thought I'd want to try, or the new show she thought I'd love. She was usually right.

Leslie is survived by two sisters and a niece and nephew. She was not particularly close to her family. But she is deeply missed by her housemate who was devoted to her and took such good care of her, and the small San Antonio community that welcomed her as a part of their family and with whom she spent her holidays. Her housemate's dog is still looking for her hoping to keep her company.

I don't think I can fully capture what a wonderful, lovely, loving person this was. I'm heartbroken.

#long post #cw grief #griefblr #griefblr at it again #loving people means losing people #but i am so lucky to love and be loved by so many wonderful people #i am sorry #but i am going to have a lot of thoughts about this i think

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Tell Me A Story

Loki x f(magic reader)

Summary: Stuck in an Asgardian cell for your crimes, you meet an intriguing fellow prisoner who you can’t help but start to feel something for.

Warning: angst, fluff (you’re not leaving sad on my watch)

Masterlist

The ground feels hard. And your head feels incredibly fuzzy, like waking up from a deep slumber by some rude acquaintance who can’t mind their own damn business. Not to mention the throbbing sensation emitting from the left side of your cheek like two annoying disturbances. Were you smacked twice?

What in the bloody shitsticks?

The light in this place is so bright too, you have to squint when opening your irises for the first time to really get a good look at your surroundings. With the light in this awful place too much to bear, you cover your eyes with your fingers to lessen the harshness from above. Soon your gaze trails up witnessed a clean ceiling of pure marble white.

Wait. Are you dead?

Adjusting to the brightness, you slowly bring yourself into a seated position on the equally as shiny clean floor. To your left is a bed and a small nightstand while your right is a see through golden tinged barrier showing the other cells and a single guard walking down the hallway. Cells? Cells!

A prison? You’re in a fucking prison. Shit.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, head in your hands, you suddenly hear a knock on the white section of the confinement hold that turns into loud pounding. Thud! Thud! Thud! And a second later the white disappears, in place shows the same see through golden tinge. A guard on the other side.

“You’re awake.” He says, voice casual as an old friend.

You give him a puzzled look before feeling your face, “I think so.”

He takes a step into your prison where a sword is held in your face, maybe not so much an old friend after all, “As protocol, I must ask you three questions.” Delves the guard, stance never changing.

“Go for it tough guy.”

He remains unfazed, “Do you know your name?” Easy.

“Y/N.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” Uh.

“Well it wasn’t for stealing a child’s favorite toy.” You muse before quickly changing your façade, “But yes.”

He scoffs unamused, “Do you know where you are?”

Now this question you don’t have an answer for so instead do you give him your sweetest most innocent face possible, “uh, maybe you could enlighten me?”

The armored man rolls his dark eyes, “You’re in the royal dungeons of Asgard, placed here by King Odin for crimes against our realm. For that. You will remain until otherwise noted by the King.” Barks the guard, you stare up at him with wide eyes. Shocked and bewildered that you’re stuck in Asgard of all places.

“I didn’t even have a fare trial!” You protest.

“You didn’t deserve one, filth.” He counters before sheathing his sword back into its scabbard and off he goes into the golden tinged door. Out of sight in an instant. Rude.

Leaving yourself very puzzled and irritated at the whole ordeal, you never even got a trial to speak your side of the story. Nothing. Now you’re stuck in this dumb shit of a cell with literally nothing to do and no one around to bother, oh wait who’s that across the room?

Jumping to your feet, you swiftly walk over to the glass; there stands a man in green and black attire, leather bound book in hand as his slender face focuses onto the pages. He’s rather handsome in all honesty, with that dark shoulder length hair of his and the thoughtful expression across his face. You’re now fully intrigued.

Then your mind swirls with a thought, you’re in Asgard. So, this must be prince Loki, the one who failed to conquer Midgard. Soon a devilish smirk crosses your features, “What are you doing down here? I thought princes were the ones to put delinquents behind bars?”

Loki’s face shifts from surprise to amusement as he keeps his eyes onto the pages, “Kings.” Corrects the Asgardian prince.

You smile, “Well this king can eat shit!”

He lets out a breathy snort before finally drawing his gaze up to you, his expression quickly diminishes from amusement into star struck fascination when those beautiful blues land upon your beaming mischievous face. Loki has never seen someone so magnificently enticing in his whole entire life. But here you are, whoever you happen to be.

The raven haired man sets the book onto his nightstand before sauntering over to the glass wall, “And who do I presume you are? My new source of entertainment.”

Waving him off like a blushing maiden, you pretend to get all hot and bothered by his sly comment, “Oh wouldn’t you like to know.”

Loki smirks, “I would indeed.”

You curl a piece of hair around your finger, gifting him a shy smile as you avoid his steely gaze. “Sorry.” You mutter, “I only tell men who can take over whole planets in under three days.”

He immediately loses his humored aurora, replacing it with a slightly taken aback yet somewhat pissed off one. “Ouch. But I can’t image you’re any clever if you happen to be stuck down here with me.”

You point up a finger, “On the contraire, my faults are less hefty then your own. So who really lost here?”

“From the looks of it. Both of us.”

You nod, “That is a truthful observation, but what has gifted us a sentence in exile are two entirely different sides to the relatively same coin.”

“Mine being, failure to conquer and rule Midgard. And yours being?”

“Fine. I’ll satiate your appetite.” He raises a brow as you trail your hand down the buzzing glass, “I may have tried to steal some pretty gems downstairs. Blah blah and I got caught by some lady named Frigga who’s a lot more skilled with magic then I had first realized and now I’m here. Granted I don’t remember getting to said “here” but alas my body remains.”

Loki smirks, “My deer mother got the best of you. How is she up in the real world these days?”

“Oh you know, told me she loves reading, doing the usual witchy stuff, and she hates you so go burn in hell for eternity you shit head little boy.”

Loki could have choked on his own spit, “Pardon me?”

“You heard me, she said she loves you. Is that not what you heard? I really thought I was being pretty clear.”

The Asgardian prince shakes his head, “Forget I asked.” Turning around once again to find his way onto the comfortable looking mattress, new book in hand.

You pout at the lack of attention, what did you say to annoy him? Was it the little shit head boy? Maybe he’s just having a bad day.

——

There he is. That incredibly attractive Asgardian prince of Mischief, just standing there. Reading yet another book in his beautiful greens and blacks and golds as he chooses to ignore you. The insanely gorgeous but deeply irritating woman across the cell from him.

You’ve been in here for about four weeks now and Loki has not cracked once. You’re really trying too! All he’s done is gift you with some telling facial expressions or the wonderful side comment to address your theatrics or harmless shenanigans.

All you want to do is get to know him better. And maybe along the way get the fuck out of here with a little help, and then preferably take the prince along for the ride. If it was only that easy.

Levitating in your cell just because you’re tired of standing all the time, you keep your usual unabashed stare-down with the prince when a random guard marches by. He looks from right to left and forward again before doing a double take over to you.

“Hey! Stop that!” He shouts, lance raised at your smirking face while you continue to float, “You can’t do that here!”

You simply roll your eyes, “Who has made this new rule law?”

The guard pauses for a moment, clearly indicating that he just doesn’t want you floating because he’s a party pooper. He swallows, “By king Odin.”

“By king Odin? Doesn’t his son fly?”

“Huh?” He glances over to Loki who’s not paying attention to you two in the slightest.

“Not that one.”

The guard makes a frustrated grunt before removing his lance away from your face, no matter the safety of the glass, “You can remain afloat but only under my authority.” And with that does he stomp off down the corridor.

Idiot.

You beam a victorious grin as he leaves your sight when a sudden slow clapping can be heard from across the hallway. Immediately do you snap your attention up to the prince who’s already sharing one of his infamous smirks, “Congratulations. You’ll now have an enemy down here. And it only took you a few weeks.”

You scoff, moving yourself to float casually on your back, “It’s about time too. Things were starting to get unbearably dull around here.”

Loki hums, “Ever try reading?”

You snort, “No, no I haven’t. Hmm, but I’d love it if you could read to me, since I don’t happen to have any books within reach. It’s only fair.”

Loki raises a brow, “Only fair?”

“Yes. I have the guards annoyed with me, so, they won’t care much about you. And. You get to read, but also to me as well.”

“That’s a possibly compelling suggestion.” Says the prince, mulling over your words.

“I thought so.”

You close your eyes as a couple moments pass before he speaks again, “But I must decline.”

“What!” You shout in bewilderment as he lowly chuckles, “I might just about die of boredom, you want me on your conscience when I pass into oblivion from lack of entertainment!”

Loki smiles at your adorable face, “Make your own fun.” He teases, though you don’t realize this.

Moving yourself into a standing position, yet still without touching the ground, you press your hands against the golden tinged glass, “Loki! You are a beautifully great annoyance and if I wasn’t stuck in here I would throw all your books about! And then….then I’d knock down your nightstand!”

He smirks, “Charming.”

You pout while your fists clench in irritation, “Fine! I didn’t want to listen to your loathsome voice anyways!” He gifts you with a proud half grin as you turn from him to magically throw your wooden nightstand across the room.

You land, reaching a hand out to launch the nightstand back across the room once more before repeating this action again and again until the whole flimsy thing combusts when it crashes violently into the closest wall.

Breathing heavily, you slowly turn to face the irritation watching you do all of this, “Feel better Y/N.”

Pursing your lips together, you release your tight fists, “Yes.”

He nods, “What would you like me to read?”

“Something joyful…….please.”

Loki shares a handsome grin before giving you a respectfully small bow, “As the lady wishes.” Loki shares a small glance with your curious face before turning to search for a book. He kneels down and soon picks out a book colored in a deep blue, something foreign written in golden cursive on the front.

You slowly return to the ground, this time seated criss crossed as you lean half of yourself upon the glass as you try and get as close to Loki as physically possible. Which is difficult considering the hallway’s short distance keeping your cells apart, but you try anyways. He opens up the book and quickly looks up to catch your gaze before smiling and looking down at the first page.

Loki reveals the smallest blush before clearing his throat, “The Fox and the Raven.” You smirk at his adorable face, how focused and deep in thoughtful concentration he becomes as the words flow off of his sly tongue like molten gold. You could listen to him all day.

“Once there were two beings, equal in skill and game. Best friends since childhood even, but there was one thing that drove a wedge in their long relationship. Another. This beautiful being was beyond compare to that of any god or goddess alike. And the two friends where undoubtedly in love with them.

It began one windy day by the river, the beauty stood, washing their hair by the waters edge with not a mind to mess with anyone in their head. The two friends saw them and smiled. “I shall win their affections.” Claimed the dark haired admirer, Tala. “Not you silly fox, I shall be the one to draw their heart to mine.” Spoke Essek with great confidence, his bestfriend in the whole entire realm.

They looked to each other with clear frustration sculpted into their faces, so, the friends came to an agreement. Whoever failed to win over the water nymphs heart, that friend must stay in their animal form forever while the victorious one could live on as they always have. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe not at first.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as the two friends would speak with the water nymph as often as they could. Tala in raven form and Essek as a dashing fox. All was going well as they played their little game of love until the water nymph began to grow quit fond of the raven for his talents in the sky and witty personality.

So much so that on the next full moon, the raven revealed himself to his true form before making love to the joyful water nymph on the rivers edge. And so the very next day when the fox arrived to speak with the nymph, he was surprised to find Tala laying underneath a weeping willow with the nymph in his strong arms.

The fox recoiled with jealousy before his heart shattered in two, Tala smiled a triumphant grin as the fox turned away in disappointment before rushing off into the woodland. Never to be seen again.

So that is why you can never trust anyone who is truly dear to you, for love is a fleeting thing and can turn friends into beasts for something as silly and pathetic as a beacon of affection.” Finishes Loki in an almost sour tone as you sit there on the cell floor, feeling a bit off and out of place from that abrupt turn of events.

You frown, “I thought you were going to read me a happy story?”

Loki closes the book, “I did.” Blue eyes on you in an instant.

“No. You really didn’t.”

Loki gives you an almost dumbfounded look, “The raven got to keep his original form and make love to the water nymph what else is there to want?” He questions like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. Not.

“The fox is depressed now. That’s not very happy.”

“It was happy for those two, was it not?”

You roll your eyes, “It was. But a happy story should have a happy ending for everyone involved. That’s the point of a happy tale being told.” You counter as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Not everyone gets what they want in the end, Y/N. That’s just life, some are fine and persist while others turn and run with nothing of any significance still clinging to them.”

You sit there a moment in bewilderment, soon rising to float threateningly by the glass, “That’s ridiculous! A happy story should be fucking happy! Love is supposed to be kind and beautiful, not this wedge that turns people against one another and supports a game that shifts into jealousy and disdain for one.”

Loki hums, “Well it is just a story after all. Love does that because it isn’t truthful ever, it’s a fleeting thing without any weight that only causes pain and disappointment.”

Your brows soon furrow at these dark words, “Oh and what do you understand about love?” You hotly challenge, voice accusatory and fierce.

“That it isn’t real.” Mutters the prince with a casual shrug, though his face flashes with uncertainty.

You scoff, “Is it now? You think love is a simple lie? A trick from the universe to keep races existing until their worlds collapse?”

“Yes.” Nods the Asgardian, “That’s what I believe.”

You take a breath, feet slowly touching the cool tiled floor as you speak, “You have no idea what it feels like then. So how can you claim it to be false?”

Loki crosses his arms, “True love isn’t real because that just cannot be realistic in any sense Y/N. Same thing as feeling happy or when you sneeze….the feeling is a feeling like butterflies in your stomach when you get excited. But like every emotion given, it leaves and the feelings are dulled or just dissipate altogether.”

“You’re wrong.” You bitterly mutter, voice low and filled with a somber hurt.

“And how would I be wrong then?” He wonders, truly curious to see how on earth you are able to counter this. He doesn’t wholeheartedly believe in love, though his growing affections for you seem to have him conflicted. He still wants to know.

“It is like magic, to be in love.” You reply, a faint smile ghosting your lips as you press your hands against the glass, “It is bright and brilliant and beautiful. It does not come and go like a fleeting spark from a dying flame. Love, like magic, forms from within when let into someone’s vessel. It is a power that always remains no matter where the person travels, or how old they become. Love, in the end and always through existence will remain. No matter what.”

Loki could have shed a tear at your beautiful explanation, yet his stubbornness persists, “A fairytale. Nothing more.”

“A fairytale? A fucking fairytale!?” You shout, voice rising in fury, “You don’t know anything but the lies you tell yourself you heartless bastard! All I wanted was a happy story that made me smile before I’m executed! And you couldn’t even give me that you selfish prick of a man!”

Loki’s heart grows cold as a winters morning, he blinks, forgetting how to properly breath at your heated declarations. He steps closer to the thin glass, brows furrowed in puzzled apprehension, “You’re being executed?” He asks, tone low and thoughtful.

Face falling into a deep frown, you lower your head in shame, “I have been condemned to die for my crimes above. Guess they’re not so simple as I had first claimed.”

“What do you mean?”

You let out a telling sigh, “I didn’t try and take the queens jewels, I tried to murder her..”

“You what?!” Whispers the Asgardian prince, eyes wide in shock, “What do you mean?”

Your gaze keeps trained onto the floor, “I am…well, I was….an assassin. Who, ultimately could not force myself to murder your mother Frigga, so I let myself be caught and taken. It’s the least I deserve for the life I’ve led. This is just how it goes, and I’m ready.”

Loki’s mind races, he never even suspected such a thing coming from you. Sure you’re indeed a beautiful mystery of a person who enjoys levitating in her cell for the hell of it. But your appearance and pose never revealed someone capable of homicide as their profession, least of all you.

And now, his father is condemning you to death rightly so, but Loki can’t help but think you don’t truly deserve this fate. Maybe, just possibly, he’d feel like he was losing a close friend. Someone who he never had any intentions of developing these strange new feelings for.

“I won’t let him end your life.” Suddenly speaks the prince, “You didn’t kill her, you actively chose not to, so I believe he could sway his final decision.”

You let out a breathy laugh, “Wishful thinking.” Just as three guards dressed in their true Asgardian golds walk to the front of your cell. Loki swallows, they dissipate the golden tinged force field, leaving you with nothing but air to keep you from their clutches.

“Y/N.” Softly calls the dark haired prince, voice small and desperate, he didn’t think they would take you so soon but what does he truly know anymore? Your sad eyes lock onto his as one guard snaps metal cuffs against your wrists, and another around your throat before he ushers you out.

Loki can’t tear his eyes from yours the whole time, and even after you’ve been dragged down the hallway and out of sight. He thinks, maybe you’ll return and it was all a big misunderstanding, a simple nightmare and he’ll wake any second now. But he knows this is foolish thinking, you’re never coming back. And he’s beside himself.

Loki bows his head in silent anguish, fists clenched tight as his heartbeat begins to race when suddenly he releases his grip and a small blast of green magic emits in the aftermath. Just enough power to knock some books onto the floor in protest. He doesn’t pick them up.

In the following days, Loki would pace around his cell like a nervous lion. Reading book after book to help pass the time though he couldn’t stop his racing mind from thinking about you. Where were you now? What had they done to you? Did it hurt?

He didn’t know and what’s worse is the guards only seemed to mock him about it, claiming your life was worth more dead then anything else. It stung like a heated iron spear left too long in the hot coals, he missed you beyond compare. How did you make him feel this way? When did that happen?

He missed your mischievous smile, your alluring eyes of curiosity and concealed chaos. The way you spoke to him like a person and not just a prisoner, or even a prince who’s disappointed his whole kingdom. You didn’t care, sure you lived to tease and pester him relentlessly, but you didn’t truly care about his current status.

You drew the attention out of him without even needing to try, brought a smile upon his face weather he was aware of it or not, and made him feel genuinely excited about waking up the next day. You became everything to him and more, and Loki hadn’t even realized this until it was too late.

But now you’re gone. And he will never see another Y/N for as long as he is to live.

Loki sits with his back against the wall, hair undoubtedly a wild mess closely matching that of the room about him. Books, clothing, furniture, and other personal belongings lay around his cell like the aftermath of a furious hurricane. He didn’t mean for this to happen, but when he got word that his mother was injured in the attack by the dark elves and freed prisoners. He new it was his fault, he led them to freedom after all.

With his mother healing from her non fatal wounds, and the loss of his dear Y/N to the axe. Loki has been doing less then tremendous these past few weeks, clearly. The prince now closes his weary eyes, breathing steadily as a new presence makes itself known across the golden tinged glass. He doesn’t care to look.

“Well don’t you look sad.” Teases a familiar voice, not condescending but just enough to make him laugh if he felt like it.

He opens his eyes to find your smirking face, body safe and sound wrapped in a cloak of white and intricately laced gold. How absolutely beautiful you are. His brows furrow as he mutters, “You’re just an illusion.” Voice horse and filled with doubt.

You raise a brow, “So is this?” You ask in reference to the clean cut illusion Loki is controlling, “I think not. I can see right through it.”

He forgot about the illusion he’s been creating since his breakdown, of course you’d see right through it, “You died. And my mother is hurt.”

“So you lost control within yourself and chose self deprecation? And apparently…chaos.” The trickster god rolls his tired eyes which causes you to chuckle, “I see my passing onto greater things has weakened your ego.”

He scoffs, “Your ghost form does not amuse me.”

Taking a glance down the vacant hallway, you step right through the golden tinged force field like it’s nothing more then air. “Loki Laufeyson, I am not a phantom or a dreary pigment of your imagination you foolish prick. I am Y/N, Goddess of Chaos and Magic. And someone who has missed you deeply.”

Loki frowns, blue eyes focused up at your truthful face as he sighs, “I….I don’t think I understand what is happening.”

You approach his side before kneeling down to reach his level, you two have never been this close before, “My tale was true as the forming of this realm itself. But your mother saw me for who I am, not what I have been enchanted to do with my life. So she gave me another chance to live, and so I did. To protect her and guard her until she deems otherwise, that’s why I’m still alive and that’s why your mother still has a beating heart.”

Loki reaches out for your hand that you gladly let him take, “Those prisoners..”

“I killed them. Every last one of those fuckers and the damn dark elves who attempted to crash their ship into the great hall. Let’s just say, it didn’t go according to their plans.” You explain, pausing for a moment to share a longing look with the Asgardian prince.

The corners of his lips rise into a soft smile, a deeply relieved one while you look down at your laced fingers, “Loki.” You whisper before drawing your head up to properly look at him.

“Yes.”

“I’m still counting on a better story.” You muse as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Unfortunately none of these books happen to provide a decent tale, my dear.”

You gently squeeze his hand, “In that case I’ll bring you all the books stuffed in that giant library. There’s bound to be a good one, something happy.”

“I’d like that.” Nods the prince.

You smile, “But I have to ask you one thing.”

“Of course.”

“Did you miss me?”

Loki squeezes your hand right back, “More then I’d ever missed anyone.” Reveals the dark haired prince as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, though his fingers linger on your cheek a moment longer before he slowly pulls them away and into his lap.

You can’t help but snicker which causes his face to scrunch up in puzzled embarrassment. Immediately do you reach up to cup his cheek, “I felt the same way. And I think I might feel a bit more too, quit possibly a lot more. No. Yes definitely a lot more then I first led on from a few weeks ago in fact and all I must admit to you now Loki Laufeyson or Odinson..prince of Asgard I think I’d like to kiss you now if that’s okay with you.”

Loki blinks, did he hear you right? “oh.” He mumbles, clearly unsure of himself or whatever wonderful thing you just said.

You immediately remove your hand from his cheek, “Too soon. Sorry I just thought I read you right maybe I was wrong I can just leav….” You don’t even have a moment to finish your sentence when his lips press pleasantly against yours.

His hands hold your face while your own hands gently grip onto his forearms for support in your awkward positioning, with him sitting and you still crouched. But it matters not when his lips move in time with yours, he feels so lovely, like a hundred roses pressing against your skin.

Giving you that soft velvety feel, you could kiss him all day if he’d let you. Though soon enough the two of you must break for some air, and with that do you pull him to his feet while you float just inches off of the messy ground. Loki never once taking his hand away from yours.

“How can you….how can you do that?” Wonders the prince as he glances from the ground to your face.

You shrug, “How can you move things with your mind?”

He smiles, “I guess, I just can. A terribly lackluster explanation I know, but perhaps I’m not truly certain how either.”

“Well let’s not dwell on the unknown for too long, this moment right now is too sacred for anything else. And though I have to leave, I will return to you…..and next time with more books. Then you will have no choice then to read them all to me.”

Loki hums, “I don’t see a problem there.” Before whispering in your ear, “Maybe bring some wine, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

You share a bright grin, “As the spoiled prince asks, but it will cost you.”

Loki raises an intrigued brow, “Cost what?”

“A kiss. Before and after I do your bidding. Can you settle for those terms?”

Loki’s lips pull into an adorable smile, cheeks almost dusting pink at your new flash of boldness. He’s never met anyone quit like you in all his years alive. “I believe those terms are acceptable.”

You give him a wink, “Good. See you then.” And with that do you crash your lips against his for on more heated embrace before leaving one final kiss to his slender cheek and floating out of the cell you go. Stopping behind the glass to give your new lover one last fleeting look, “Miss me you prick.”

Loki smirks, “Always.”

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel #god of mischief #fanfiction #fanfic #tom hiddleston

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | final chapter: is something burning?

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, SMUT WARNINGS APPLY in this chapter sorry i’m yelling stressed!joon, sweaty!joon, sober!joon all make an appearance

rating: 18+

word count: 7.9K

notes: okay, so i stressed a bit about this chapter.  i got really in my head over it, but i hope it ends in a way that’s satisfying to all of you guys.  i’ve heard from some of the most amazing readers about this story -- i appreciate you all so much and i’d love to hear from you about how you feel about the ending.

special love to the best beta hands down periodt amen @hobi-gif​​, the lady who inspired it all with her adorable brand of namjoon thirst @sahmfanficbts​​, and three people who mean the world to me point blank period @ladyartemesia​​ @ppersonna​​ @taetaewonderland​​

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

*************************

There’s this thing that happens when you’re getting over a cold.

Slowly -- as your breathing returns to normal -- you can taste again.  Your head clears and your senses come back to life and you savor everything you eat like it’s the best thing you’ve ever had.  Your appetite returns.  

And all at once, you are starving.

That’s what it’s like after Namjoon touches you.

All he had to do was cup your face in one large, warm hand and it feels like your entire body has been jump-started.  Like parts of you that have been dormant for years are now awake, nerve endings exposed and aching.  Like all the tiny pieces of you that have been scattered and lost for so long are now found and fitting back together.

For the first time in a long time you remember what it feels like to want.

It’s not like you didn’t know you cared for Namjoon.  You knew it deep down in the way you took pride in providing for his needs.  You knew it in the way it made you feel to see appreciation reflected back in his dark eyes.

But you didn’t understand how much you wanted him until that night in his office.  

In those few charged moments, Namjoon made you feel more desired with his gaze than other men have with their hands.  You let down your guard and allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to touch him, to be touched by him. You let yourself embrace the fantasy of being his in every way.

And then it was over.

Whatever spell he was under was broken and whatever existed in the air between you evaporated.  The hunger in his eyes turned into remorse and you’d left his office on trembling legs, reeling from the whiplash of it all.

Today, you stare out at the window across from your desk, unable to suppress the hurt that grips your chest.  You can barely concentrate on the numbers on the sheet in front of you, mind replaying the events in that office.  

Namjoon should never have touched you.  

He should never have roused the parts of you that had been long forgotten between doctors visits and pharmacy runs.  He should never have made you feel things no other man ever has or probably ever will.

And he should have never let you believe, even for one second, that he could care for you the way you do for him.

He should have just left you alone.

*********************

No one ever tells you that when you devote your life to caring for someone else’s needs, yours end up falling by the wayside.  That who you are ends up diminished somehow, buried underneath the weight of responsibility and worry.

Jinjoo finds you sitting in the chair next to your mother’s bed, staring at one lock of hair threaded through your fingers.  You’re frowning at the split ends you’ve not had a chance to tend to, the ones you hide by keeping your hair pulled back.

She sweeps into the room, carrying a bowl of kimchi.

“It’s Saturday. The sun is shining and you should go out.  Maybe to the salon, hmm?”

You glance up just as she’s placing the food on a tray at the foot of your mother’s bed.  She smiles to soften the blow of her observation and you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at her well-meaning meddling.  It’s nice to be fussed over for a change.

“I can’t even remember the last time I went to the salon,” you admit, eyes locking on an unsightly chip in your nail polish.  “I usually end up cutting it myself.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Jinjoo scolds, hands on hips.  “Today I want you to go out and do something just for you.  Go and get the works.  You’re far too young to be stuck in this house all the time.”

You consider her offer for a moment.  Here in the quiet of your mother’s room it’s far too easy to let your mind wander back to the encounter with Namjoon.  Far too easy to dwell on the ache that surfaces every time you remember.

“Go on, Ttal.”

You turn in the direction of your mother’s voice and find her stirring from her nap.  She places one soft hand over yours and squeezes.  “She’s right.  Go take some time away.  I’ll be fine here with Jinjoo.”

“See?” Jinjoo waves a hand to shoo you out of the chair. You stand and she immediately takes your place in the seat.  “Your mother agrees.  Now go.  And buy something pretty to wear while you’re at it.”

You look from her to your mother and see both women wearing matching expressions of encouragement.  

You decide they’re right.

So you spend the rest of your day pampering yourself and shopping and definitely not thinking about Kim Namjoon.  

You don’t think about him when you read the book he recommended to you once at the salon, you don’t think about him when you stop for a bite at his favorite Tteokbokki stand and you definitely don’t think about him when you buy a new sweater that makes you feel beautiful.

You definitely don’t think about him at all.

*****************************

NAMJOON

Kim Namjoon’s father was a pig.

A glutton of the worst kind, he hoarded money and guns and drugs and because no one ever tried to stop him.  He used and abused everything and everyone just because he could.

Namjoon hated to watch the sadistic games his father played with people.  He hated that the man seemed to direct the worst of his cruelty at the women in his life.  

Namjoon’s own sister left everything behind to escape his violence and abuse and somehow his father was even more vicious with the women he bedded and discarded at random.  He dangled things like money and security and love in front of them like bait, only to yank it all away on a whim.

That’s why Namjoon has worked so hard his entire life to prove to others -- to prove to himself -- that he’s better than the piece of shit who raised him.  

That’s why the look on your face in his office that night cut so deep.

That look pierced straight through the lust and the scotch clouding his judgement and forced him to step back and see the situation for what it was. It made him feel sick to think he might have made you feel like his help came with conditions.  That he’d done what he had expecting you to give yourself to him in return.  

He couldn’t allow you to think he’d use his money to try and buy you.  That’s something his father would have done.

And Kim Namjoon is not his fucking father.

So this morning he finds himself walking towards your desk, determined to make it right.  You don’t register his approach as you work quietly and Namjoon has a quick moment to take you in.

There’s something different about you.

Namjoon can’t put his finger on it, but when he gets close enough for you to notice his presence and you glance up at him from under those long lashes, you look changed somehow.

Rested. Radiant.

The second you register that it’s him though, the look on your face changes.  You stand up from your chair, expression shuttered, tone formal.

“Mister Kim,” you murmur.  “How can I help you this morning?”

“Please sit,” Namjoon starts quietly.  “I, uh --” He digs his nails into his palm, annoyed with the hesitation in his delivery.  Spit it out, you moron.

“-- I owe you an apology.”

Your lips part in surprise before you close your mouth, sinking slowly back into your chair.  

Namjoon rubs one hand across the back of his neck, stealing a sideways glance at Seokjin’s office door.  It remains closed and he’s glad for it.  The last thing he’d want is an audience for this embarrassing exchange.

“The other night I was --” he clears his throat awkwardly.  Loaded. Horny. Stupid.  

He eventually lands on a less damning adjective.  “-- not entirely appropriate with you.”

You blink back but keep quiet so Namjoon keeps talking.

“I shouldn’t have acted that way,” he acknowledges weakly.  “That’s not normally how I treat my employees.  And I’m sorry.”

Spots of color appear in your cheeks.

“Well as your employee, I admit it wasn’t appropriate for me to just turn up in your office without notice, either,” you reply quietly.  “I think I was just shocked by your generosity. It’s a lot of money, and I --”

“-- Don’t think anything of it,” Namjoon interjects quickly.  “You’ve saved me that amount and more with your audits.  It only made sense to repay you for your efforts.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and Namjoon knows it immediately.  It’s not the truth -- not by a mile -- and judging by the look that passes over your face, it’s definitely not what you wanted to hear.

“Mister Kim.”

“Yes?” Namjoon replies, only to realize that you are now looking past him and that he’s not the only one answering.

He turns slowly to find Seokjin standing behind him, wearing an expression halfway between curiosity and scrutiny.  Namjoon’s nails dig back into his palms, leaving tiny indents in the skin.

“Good morning,” you continue, turning your attention fully to Seokjin.  Seokjin looks between you and Namjoon before answering.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says slowly.

“If you’re ready to go over the new audits, I have more information to cover with you,” you say, pointing at the papers riddled with notes on your desk.  Namjoon stands there like an idiot, watching the two of you interact like he’s not even there.

“Sure,” Seokjin agrees, eyes darting back to Namjoon.  “Let’s go ahead and get into the numbers.”

“Great,” you say with a smile, standing to organize your papers into a folder.  

You look back at Namjoon like he’s an afterthought and the realization stings.  “If that was all you needed, I’ve got some work to handle now.”

The nails in his palm are this close to drawing blood.  

He cuts his eyes at Seokjin who immediately looks away.

“Certainly,” he says under his breath.  “Let me not keep you.”

You turn your back on him to head into Seokjin’s office.

***********************

Namjoon stares out at the setting sun from his office window.

He’s spent the last few days hiding out in here, avoiding everything and everyone.  Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin -- his phone keeps lighting up with calls he won’t answer.  His already black mood darkens every time his mind replays the seemingly endless string of disastrous exchanges with you.

He still can’t figure out how he’s managed to fuck things up so royally.

He still can’t figure out why he didn’t just tell you the truth about the money and about Jinjoo. He should have just admitted outright that for once he wanted to be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.  He should have just admitted that you mean something to him.

That’s the real reason why things are so screwed up right now.

It would be so simple if this was just about sex.  It would be so simple if Namjoon could just get you into bed and get you out of his system.  But you’re not Mina or Yejin or any of the others.  

You’re not like any woman he’s ever known.

Namjoon leans back into his chair just as his cell phone lights again and he grabs it just long enough to reject the call before tossing it back onto his desk.  He rubs his fingers across his mouth and watches the sun fall behind the nearby skyscrapers.

You deserve so much more than he is capable of giving you.

You deserve happiness and security and certainty.  What you don’t deserve is to be toyed with by a man who doesn’t know what his future looks like.  A man who’s still so damaged by his own upbringing that he worries he’ll never be capable of being a decent husband and father.

Truthfully, Namjoon doesn’t know which scenario scares him more.  

The one where he tries -- and fails -- to give you the things you need, or the one where he drifts through the rest of his life anchored to no one and nothing.

The sound of an incoming text interrupts his maudlin thoughts.

Namjoon reaches for his phone and sighs as he reads the waiting message.

reservations at doore yoo, 8 PM [ 6:32 PM ]

join me [ 6:32 PM ]

it’s been too long [ 6:33 PM ]

***********************

“Mister Kim.”

The Maitre’d at Doore Yoo bows in Namjoon’s direction, flashing a wide smile. “A pleasure to have you back.”

“Thank you Sungho,” Namjoon murmurs, scanning the crowded dining room.  “Is she waiting for me?”

“She is,” Sungho confirms.

Namjoon follows him past the tables packed with patrons to the exclusive dining area hidden away in the back.  This is his regular table, inside his regular private room -- but when Sungho slides the door open, Namjoon stops short and nearly tells the man he’s made a mistake.

The young woman waiting for him inside is unrecognizable.

From the back, Namjoon can see that her dark hair has been swept into a careful updo, shoulders and skin bared in a delicate spaghetti-strap top.  But that can’t be right.

Because she would never --

“Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon’s sister lifts her chin and smiles as he steps around the table.  

He catches himself staring, momentarily thrown by the sight in front of him.  It’s the first time in his life he can recall seeing his sister wearing something that doesn’t cover the jagged scar that crosses her collarbone.  The scar that she’s spent a lifetime hiding, ashamed of the way it made her look and feel.  At once, the realization hits him -- the hundreds of different ways she’s changed, big and small since falling in love with Hoseok.  

Every last one of them for the better.

“Amsaja, you look -- ” Namjoon pauses to brush a kiss across her cheek, “ -- wonderful.”

She flushes.

“Thank you. Now sit,” she orders kindly, reaching for her wine glass.  “For a minute there I thought you might not show.”

Namjoon exhales, sinking into his seat.  

“For a minute there, I almost didn’t,” he admits.  “It’s been a shitty week.”

His sister says nothing, smiling like a sphinx as a server appears to offer Namjoon his own drink.  

“Club soda on ice,” Namjoon orders quietly.  “Thanks.”

Her poker face slips then, one eyebrow lifting in surprise at seeing him forgo his usual scotch.  She sips her wine thoughtfully before speaking.

“Talk to me, Namjoon.”

“There’s little to talk about,” he deflects irritably, staring past her to the art on the walls.  

“Hoseok says you’ve barely left your office.  Won’t take his calls.”

Namjoon grits his teeth, hackles raising immediately.

“Tell Hoseok he should work on his pillow talk,” he says sharply, and the second the words leave his mouth he regrets them.  Namjoon sees the change in his sister’s demeanor, watches her eyes sharpen from across the table.  

“Forgive me,” he apologizes quickly.  “That was uncalled for.  I’m fucking things up left and right these days, it seems.”

His sister stares back at him.  Namjoon knows that face, knows she’s now opted to abandon her charm offensive for a more direct approach.  He knows it’s exactly what he deserves for being an asshole.

“That’s my understanding, yes,” she says tightly.  “As smart as you are, you seem to be doing some very stupid shit lately.”

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, cheeks warming at her rebuke.

“You’re right,” he admits.  “But I’m going to need you to be more specific about which stupid shit you want to talk about tonight.”

“Don’t be dense,” his sister scolds.  “Clearly, you’re tied up in knots over your assistant.  Oh, I’m sorry -- I mean former assistant.”

Namjoon’s defeated sigh hangs in the air for a moment.

“Is that what Hoseok says?”

“That’s what everyone says,” his sister fires back.  “You think you’re such a mystery but I assure you, you’re actually quite transparent.  Sending her away to work for Seokjin? Hiring a private nurse?  Good grief, Namjoon.  Real subtle.”

Shit, he wishes he had a scotch right now.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to explain to me why you’re playing this stupid game of push and pull with this woman.  If you care about her, do something about it instead of lashing out at everyone around you because you’re angry with yourself.”

“She’s not --” Namjoon falters as he searches for a proper explanation, “-- she has a complicated life right now.  I’m just trying to help her the only way I know how.”

His sister leans back in her chair, wine glass tipped in his direction.

“You know what I think?  I think you like her too much and I think that’s freaking you out.  And I think you’re going to miss out on a good thing because you won’t get your head out of your ass.”

Namjoon stares back at his sister.

“I think you might be right,” he concedes, after a heavy silence.  

“Namjoon, I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” his sister says quietly.  “Whatever you’re feeling, she’s feeling it too.”

He knows that’s true. It’s been damned near impossible not to feel the charged air between you, impossible not to share passing looks and fleeting touches while working in such close quarters.  When he looks at you he knows instinctively that you feel the same pull.  It’s only made his precarious position that much harder.

“I just --” he shakes his head as he tries to justify his inaction, “-- I have no idea what I’m offering her.  I don’t know what I’m capable of giving her.  Beyond money, of course.”

His sister laughs.  

Namjoon waits for her to collect herself, ears warm with embarrassment.  He resists the childish impulse to kick her under the table.

“Is that funny to you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” she teases.  “You have no idea what you have to offer her?  You’re one of the most powerful men in this city, Namjoon.  There’s nothing you couldn’t offer her.”

The server arrives with dumplings and sets them in the middle of the table, and his sister reaches for one.

“If she’s this important to you, I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for her,” she continues.  “Stop overthinking this. You’re a good man.  Everything else is icing on the cake.”

“I haven’t acted like a good man lately,” he confesses, shaking his head.  “She came to my office a few nights ago and I acted like a drunk, groping asshole.  Like father, like son.”

His sister sets her wine glass down, hard.

“You’re nothing like our father, Namjoon,” she says, eyes flashing with anger.  “Quit telling yourself you don’t deserve happiness out of some misguided, misplaced guilt.  And whatever happened in that office can be fixed.  If you want to fix it.”

Namjoon watches the bubbles in his club soda surface and break.  He does want to fix it.  He wants to figure out a way to stop fucking everything up where you’re concerned.

“I do,” he admits.

“Have you apologized?”

“Awkwardly. Not sure that it helped my case.”

“Then I think you need to offer her the one thing that’s more valuable than your money, Jaegyueo.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow at his sister.

“What’s that?”

She plucks a dumpling off the plate with her chopsticks and points it at him.

“Give her your time.”

****************************

YOU

It’s freezing tonight.

You wrap your arms around yourself and brace against the biting wind as you approach your family home.  You’re dead on your feet, worn after a long day at the office -- and for the thousandth time since her arrival you silently give thanks for Jinjoo.  

Knowing your mother is taken care of while you’re gone and coming back to a clean home and warm meals has eased your burdens immeasurably.  

Of course, it’s all really thanks to Kim Namjoon -- but that’s something you’re not allowing your mind to dwell on right now.  You’ve worked hard over the past few days to push any thought of that man back to the furthest recesses of your mind.  

You’re peeling out of your scarf and coat in the foyer when a laugh echoes down the long hallway.  It’s the sound of your mother’s laugh -- clear in a way you haven’t heard in a very long time -- and it’s definitely not coming from her room.

“Eomma?” you call out as you walk towards the sound.  A peal of Jinjoo’s laughter rings out next and you smile, following it.

You round the corner to the living room and your mouth drops open when you spot your mother, fully dressed for the first time in ages, sitting on the formal couch.  Jinjoo is seated next to her, both women smiling and laughing at --

Oh God.

Namjoon stands from his seat on the opposite couch when your eyes meet his.  His cheeks are pinked from the cold, hair tousled from the wind, and he looks so handsome that for a moment you forget how to think.  

“Welcome home,” he says, dimples emerging from his slow, careful smile.

You stare back at him, rooted to the spot.  Your face warms when you realize that every single eye in the room is trained on you, awaiting your next move.

“Do you -- ” Namjoon clears his throat, “ -- do you think I could have a minute of your time?”

“What are you doing here?” you say, blowing right past his question.

Jinjoo makes a disapproving sound under her breath.

“Ttal,” your mother interjects with a tone that borders very close to warning, “Mister Kim came by to talk to you.  He kept the two of us company until you came home.”

You turn to look at her and -- is she wearing lipstick?

“Yes,” Namjoon adds quickly, turning the warmth of his smile back to your mother and Jinjoo. “And they’ve been wonderful company. Thank you, ladies.”

The two of them titter like schoolgirls enjoying the attention of the most popular boy in school while you just stare.

And stare.

“Ttal?”

Your mother’s voice breaks through your mental fog.  You look back at her and Jinjoo and both women appear to be holding their breath, awaiting your response.  Jinjoo’s eyes are pleading when they meet yours, silently begging you to play nice.

You turn back to Namjoon slowly.

“One minute.”

“Great,” he breathes, shoving a hand through his hair.

“Not here.”

The words come out more sharply than you’d intended and your mother’s eyes go wide. Jinjoo sighs.

“What I mean to say,” you start again, delivery clumsy, “Is that we should probably step outside.”

“Of course,” Namjoon agrees.

You will your leaden legs and feet to cooperate as you turn to leave, grabbing your coat from the foyer closet on the way.  You slip it on and lead Namjoon out to the front porch, immediately wincing at the bitter cold that greets you.  

The door clicks shut and you burrow deep into your coat, turning to face him.  You force yourself to ignore the warmth that blossoms in your chest when his mouth curves into a soft smile.

“Your mother seems to be doing well tonight,” Namjoon notes. “I’m glad to see it.”

It’s not fair.  It’s not fair that he can just show up here on a whim -- looking like that, talking like that.  

Charming everyone in his path.  

“Namjoon, I’m going to ask again.  What are you doing here?”

The smile on his face falls and he looks skyward, exhaling a puff of steam into the cold night air.

”I’m here to come clean,” he confesses quietly.  “Thought I might do this new thing where I try not to act like an idiot around you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, stomach fluttering wildly in response.

A lock of his hair falls over his eye when he looks back down and you smother the urge to brush it back, hands balling into fists in your pockets.

“Thought I might do this new thing where I just tell you the truth.”

You’ve tried so hard these past few days to be angry with him, to use your hurt feelings like a wall around your heart.  But you can’t anymore.  He looks down at you with those huge, dark eyes and your grudge falls apart.

“I care about you,” he admits.  “I’ve been stumbling over my own feet for weeks because I didn’t know how to approach you about it. And then that night in the office,” he trails off, looking pained.  “That is not how I intended to treat you.”

A gust of wind blows through and you curl into yourself, teeth chattering.  Namjoon pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders.  

“Please don’t,” you protest weakly.  “You’ll freeze.”

“I won’t,” he promises, stepping closer.  

You wrap the wool tight around your body, enjoying the way his lingering heat and scent wrap around you at the same time.  Your heart is beating so wildly you can hear your pulse in your ears.

“Namjoon,” you whisper. “You must know I feel the same way.”

He reaches one hand up to stroke his fingers across your cheek.

“I was really hoping you’d say that.”

He’s so close now that all it would take is the slightest tip of your chin, the most incremental change in angle to press your mouth to his. But he doesn’t close the small distance between you.  His gaze shifts to the street and you follow it, only now realizing a black sedan has been idling outside your house this entire time.  

Your cheeks flame hot at the thought of his driver witnessing this exchange.

“I want a chance to do this the right way,” he murmurs.  “Can I have it?”

You nod, waiting for your mouth to catch up to your brain.  “Of course.”

He smiles wide then, the kind of smile you haven’t seen on him in a long time and once again you’re struck by how handsome he is.  He narrows his eyes playfully when he realizes you are staring.

“Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

You nod, pulling off his coat and watching as he shrugs back into it. He grabs for your hand, fingers brushing against yours just as you reach for the door.

“Good night, Namjoon,” you say softly.  

He squeezes your cold fingers with his.

“Good night.”

***************************

Namjoon sends his driver for you.

You shift uncomfortably in the backseat of the sleek car, avoiding Chun’s gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror.  Up until now, you knew him only as the voice on the other end of the line when you’d arranged for Namjoon’s rides.

Now you’re matching a face with a voice -- and so is he.

You try not to dwell on how this must look after the scene outside your home just a few nights ago.  Especially now that he’s been tasked with taking you to Namjoon’s penthouse.

It’s embarrassing, certainly -- but even this pales in comparison to what you’d had to endure before leaving the house.  

When your mother had asked you to come see her and casually inquired about the last time you’d shaved your legs.  When Jinjoo had made a point of letting you know that she was planning on staying all night long just as you were walking out the door.

That was definitely the most embarrassing part.

That’s why you feel a knot in your stomach as the security guard in Namjoon’s building escorts you personally up to the very top floor -- the one accessible only by keycard.  That’s why you find yourself holding your breath right until the very moment Namjoon opens the door.

Then you let go of that breath.

“Thank you, Jaejin,” he greets, bowing in the man’s direction.  He turns his attention to you and the knot in your stomach explodes into butterflies.

“Thanks for coming,” he says with a careful smile.  

As if you had any choice in the matter.  You kick your brain into gear and remind yourself to stop staring and smile back as the door shuts behind you.  

He takes your coat and you take him in.

It’s the most casual you’ve ever seen him look, barefoot in jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows.  He looks fresh from a shower, skin glistening and golden.  The scent of him --- clean and male and intoxicating -- wafts over you.

Followed by a far less enticing one.

“Namjoon,” your nose wrinkles at the acrid smell,  “Is something burning?”

“Something was burning,” he admits sheepishly. “But it’s not anymore.  And you -- “ he pauses to let his gaze rake over you, “ -- you look incredible.”

Heat creeps up your neck and into your face, making you feel just a touch too warm in your brand new sweater.  

“Thank you,” you reply, accepting his compliment with a shy smile. “So do you.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and you clear your throat, feeling uncomfortable with the admiration in his eyes.

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe the words through a nervous laugh. “That sounds great, actually.”  You hope it’s not obvious that you’re jumping at the chance to take the edge off of your jitters.

Namjoon leaves you standing in his grand living room as he heads to the kitchen to pour the wine.  You’ve always known he was a wealthy man -- but knowing that in the abstract and seeing it firsthand are two different things entirely.  You take in the massive wall-to-wall windows and gleaming marble floors and custom-made art pieces with silent awe.

Namjoon interrupts your gawking when he returns with your wine.

“So about dinner,” he starts with a chuckle. “It’s on the way.  I attempted to cook something, but as you already know that didn’t quite work out.  Not surprising, seeing as I’ve never cooked in this kitchen before.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise.  “Never?”

“Never,” he says with a smile.  “I’ve never brought anyone to this apartment, either.”

His smile vanishes then, a more serious look taking its place.  You swallow thickly as you let the implication of that statement wash over you.

“No one?”

“No one,” he confirms quietly.

Your lips part with surprise and Namjoon looks away, like he’s admitted too much -- and you stand there spinning your wheels, searching for something to say.

The sound of the door chime is a well-timed and welcome interruption.

Namjoon heads to the door to accept the food and you realize the same security guard who escorted you up here is making the delivery.  It makes sense, of course, that only a trusted few could get this close to Namjoon’s private space.

“Are you expecting more people?” you tease with a smile when the guard wheels in a cart weighted down with enough food to feed an army.  

Relief washes over you when Namjoon smiles back. The strange moment that passed between you before is forgotten.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got one of everything.”

Pleasant smells emanating from the carefully-packed containers fill the apartment, pushing away the burnt one still lingering from the food that’s been relegated to the trash.

“Just so you know,” you laugh, “I like all of it.”  

****************************

The centerpiece of Namjoon’s outrageously opulent great room is the fireplace.  

Your fingers wrap tight around the stem of your wine glass as you stare into the flames and contemplate how this night will end.

You know how you want it to end.  

You know the dozens of debauched fantasies you’ve entertained about Namjoon -- the myriad ways he’s had you in your mind.  But there’s no way for you to know what his intentions are, how he expects this night to end.

That’s why you’re strung tight as a bow as you hear him clearing plates and cleaning up in the kitchen.  The sounds eventually slow and then stop.  And you wait.

You don’t hear him approach.  

You come out of your thoughts and look away from the flames and he’s just there, standing in front of the couch wearing an expression you can’t read.  The wine starts to wobble inside your glass, set in motion by your unsteady hands.

“Here,” he says quietly, reaching for it. “Let me.”

He takes the glass and places it on the coffee table, sinking into the space next to you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs.  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He leans in and reaches out to thread his hands into your hair.

“Namjoon,” you whisper weakly, pulse leaping in response.  

His eyes seem to darken at the sound of his name. His fingers slip out of your hair and under your jaw, tipping your chin up and compelling you to meet his gaze.  

“I told you I was going to do this the right way,” he murmurs, “And I meant it.  After that night in my office, I promised myself I was never going to put you in that position again.”

Your tongue slips out to wet your lips involuntarily, as if the action could take the place of the words you want so badly to say.  

But Namjoon makes no move, fingers firm under your jaw.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes gently. “If you want this -- if you want me, tell me.”

“Kiss me.”

The words come out in a rush, laced with such desperation they sound like a plea, not an order.  A smile tugs the corner of Namjoon’s mouth and he nods.

Carefully, deliberately, he sinks his mouth onto yours.

You sigh against the press of his lips as the pads of his fingers stroke the side of your face.  For a moment you can’t think; can’t process a thing beyond the spice on his tongue from the Buldak or how impossibly soft his lips feel against yours.  

He kisses you until you can’t breathe -- and just a moment beyond that -- until you are forced to pull away, chest heaving.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admits, panting.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since we were kids,” you confess, emboldened.

He leans close again, eyes half-lidded, lips grazing yours.

“Well, we’re not kids anymore.”

*********************

NAMJOON

Namjoon has to force himself not to totally fucking devour you.

You are finally in his hands and the urge to unleash months of wait and want on you is so strong he has to take a physical step back.

You look up at him from where you sit on his bed -- hair mussed from his fingers, lips swollen from his kisses -- and he hesitates, unsure of his next move.

“If you’re thinking you don’t want to -- “ you start.  

Namjoon cuts you off with a strangled laugh.

“Trust me, that’s not what I’m thinking,” he vows, shoving a hand through his hair.  “It’s like I’ve wanted you so bad for so long I don’t even know where to start.”

Your eyes soften as you gaze at him.

Namjoon holds his breath as he watches you slip out of your sweater and then out of your jeans.  You lie back against his sheets, eyes holding steady contact with his.

“Start anywhere,” you breathe quietly.  “Start everywhere.  Just start.  Please.”

Fuck, you are going to be his undoing.

It takes him an irritatingly long time to work the buttons of his shirt open on account of his thick, clumsy fingers.  He finally manages to get out of it and his jeans follow right behind.

“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” you murmur as he slides into the bed next to you.  His fingers rake over the soft skin of your stomach and you jerk under his fingertips, body reacting immediately to his touch. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Namjoon smiles when you use his own words against him.  

He dips his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply -- savoring the soft, sweet smell of your skin.  He mouths at your pulse point, feeling it race in response when his fingers trail lower to tease the delicate band of your panties.

“I figured out where I want to start,” he murmurs, sucking gently at the hollow of your collarbone.  

He feels your deep intake of breath when he slips one hand into the satin, grazing against your mound.  He shifts lower, allowing one finger to dip into your center, groaning at the wetness he finds waiting for him there.

“So responsive, Jagiya,” he praises softly.  “So beautiful.”

You make a needy sound, hips lifting off the bed as you chase the pressure of his fingers.  He turns to capture your lips again with his own, simultaneously working two fingers into the tight space between your thighs.

“Namjoon,” you sigh brokenly, “F-feels so good.”

“I can do better,” he promises.  “Turn over for me.”

He waits for you to comply, body shifting in the bed.  Once you are face down, he climbs over you, dipping his mouth to the shell of your ear, biting gently on the soft skin.  You shiver underneath him, moaning softly.

Slowly, he kisses a line down the back of your neck, hands stopping just long enough to undo the clasp to your bra.  He slips it off of you, reaching under you to tease at your nipples with his fingertips.  He chuckles low with satisfaction when you twitch under his fingertips.

He continues his descent, dropping kisses along the soft line of your back.  His hands reach your panties and he pulls them off, mouth sucking gently at the base of your spine.

“Namjoon,” you gasp, the sound of your plea is muffled as you press your face into the sheets. “Touch me.”

He sinks one long finger into you then, savoring the tight pull of your heat as his tongue flicks out to taste you.  Your hips jerk off the bed and he uses both strong hands to urge your legs further apart.

“Relax for me,” he soothes, mouth closing over your wet center.  

He pushes a second finger into you and you shudder at the fullness, back arching.  The movement angles your cunt even closer and Namjoon seizes the opportunity, tongue firm as he swipes it against you.

He can tell how badly you want this.  He can feel it in the way your thighs tremble while he’s working you with his fingers and tongue.  He can hear it in the way you whimper when he nips gently at you with his teeth.

“Namjoon,” the tilt to your voice makes it sound like you are on the verge of tears.  “Please -- I c-can’t -- ”  Your thought evaporates into thin air when he groans directly into your center, curling his fingers deep against the spot inside of you that draws a sharp gasp.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs his encouragement as you buck against his grip.  “Come for me, Jagiya.”

He looks up just long enough to see your fingers twisted into the sheets, face buried deep into the pillow as you fall apart in his hands.  You make the prettiest sounds as you succumb.  Somewhere in the midst of your frantic whispering he hears his name and the sound goes straight to his cock, making the ache there almost impossible to ignore.  

He ignores it anyway -- pushing the feeling aside to ride out the tremors with you, relishing the taste of your release on his tongue.  He praises you, savors you, keeps you anchored to his mouth until your hips drop flush to the bed with exhaustion.

Then he kisses his way back up the line of your spine, dropping down at your side.  You look so deliciously sated and flushed when you turn over that Namjoon can’t help the slow smile that comes over him.

You kiss it right off.

You fit your body against his -- slick skin against slick skin -- and kiss Namjoon so hard it takes him by surprise.  Your hands dive into his hair, mouth desperate against his.

Namjoon chuckles under his breath at your newfound boldness, fingers reaching to tease at one pebbled nipple.  Your body jolts in response and you answer with a move of your own, one hand sliding across the hard plane of his stomach and into his boxers.  

Up until this very moment, he’s been able to ignore the insistent throbbing between his own legs.  But the moment your fingers wrap around him -- the moment you start to pump your hand gently over him -- it becomes his only thought.

“Shit,” he groans, breaking the kiss to inhale deeply,  “God, that feels good.”

You pull away to maneuver your body over his.  

Namjoon watches through hooded eyes as you pull his boxers down his legs and then turn your attention to his straining cock.  He takes his bottom lip between his teeth to contain the noise he makes when your mouth descends onto him.

The moments that follow are a test of the last shreds of Namjoon’s self-control.  

The wet warmth of your mouth surrounds him, tongue teasing at the sensitive places that make his hips jerk and his mouth drop open in surrender.  Your grip around his cock stays firm, mouth soft in contrast -- both sensations almost too much to bear at once.

He slips a hand in your hair to push back the strands that have fallen into your face and you release him with a pop, lips wet and swollen, eyes glassy and wide.  

He nearly comes right then and there.

“No more,” he croaks, voice hoarse with arousal.  “That’s all I can take.”

The smile you return is nothing short of victorious.  Namjoon rolls you onto your back in one fluid motion, more than ready to retake his position of control.   Your eyes are sparkling with laughter and he grins back.

“You like seeing me at your mercy, huh?” he teases, dropping kisses into the crook of your neck.  

“I do,” you admit, shuddering when he slips one hand back down to the apex of your thighs.  “It’s nice to be the one in charge for a change.”

Namjoon kisses you slowly then, taking himself in hand to slide the head of his stiff cock against the wetness spilling from your entrance.  He pulls up on his arms and looks down at you just to appreciate the way you look right now, hair splayed across his pillow and skin luminous against his sheets.  

“You’ve always been in charge, Jagiya,” he breathes, enjoying the way your cheeks pink in response.  “Just like you’re in charge right now. So tell me what you want.”

The humor disappears from your eyes then, replaced by something heady and dark.  

Namjoon sucks in a breath when your hand wraps back around his cock, guiding him back to your entrance.  He throbs with need under your fingertips, muscles locked tight with anticipation.

“This -- ” you murmur, tilting your hips up to take him in, “ -- is what I want.”  

Namjoon sinks down carefully then, slowly -- choking back a moan at the unbearably tight grip of your walls.  You gasp, nails digging into his back as he strokes to the hilt.  

“This is what you want?” he goads, feeling powerful now, drunk on the sight of you writhing beneath him. He pulls back and surges forward again, drawing a desperate moan from you.  “Like this?”

You wrap your legs around him, hands sliding down the slick skin of his back until your fingers are gripping his ass, urging him to move faster.

“Yes,” you manage on a shaky breath.  “Like that.  Over and over and over.”

Namjoon buries his smile against your breasts, tonguing at your nipples as his hips piston against you.  He nips at one with his teeth and you whine, back arching off the bed.  

“You’re made for me,” he groans, panting his praise in between deep strokes, “So tight and wet I can’t think.”

You hum your contentment into his mouth when you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close for a kiss.  He slips one hand under your ass, dragging you deeper into his heavy strokes and you cry out.  

He’s always hated the echo in this place.  But hearing the sound of your voice calling his name echoing off the walls is an entirely different story.  It lights a fire inside of him -- making him move faster, harder -- desperate to hear it again.

“Namjoon -- “ your hands claw at his back as you cling to him.  “ -- I think, I think I’m going -- “

“You will,” he rasps, when you lose all hope of finishing that thought.

He sinks his thumb into his mouth before dragging it down to rub slow circles across your aching clit and you clamp down around him in response.  He chokes on his own moan, summoning just enough control to keep himself from exploding inside of you.

But then you start to unravel.

In those final moments, you feel hotter and wetter -- begging brokenly in his ear for some kind of relief.  Namjoon holds off until the tight grip of your cunt starts to pulse around him and then he gives in.  He comes so hard his vision darkens before it comes back.  

Then he collapses on top of you, panting and wrecked.

You press a kiss into his neck and rake your nails gently up and down his back.

**********************

Namjoon wakes up alone.

He should be used to the feeling by now, but after last night -- after you -- he can’t help but feel disappointed.  

He shoves a hand through his hair, slips into a pair of lounge pants and heads to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Then he stops in his tracks.

You are standing in front of the massive window in his living room, wearing nothing but one of his old t-shirts, holding a mug of coffee in one hand.  You sip it thoughtfully and look out over the city, seemingly unaware of his presence.

So Namjoon just stands there for a while, admiring your long legs and soft skin and the dark hair that spills down your back.  Admiring the way you make this place bearable just by existing in it.

“Thought you left me,” he says quietly, and you startle out of your reverie at the sound of his voice.

“I did leave you,” you feign a serious expression, nodding at your mug. “For this. Thought you’d understand.”

“That I do,” he laughs, padding across the room to join you at the window.  

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and you smile up at him.

“What are you thinking about this morning?” Namjoon presses quietly. “What’s on your mind?”

You sip your coffee and look back out the window before answering.

“I was just thinking about the day I came to ask for you a job,” you confess.  “How afraid and alone I felt back then.”

Namjoon can still remember how he felt seeing you walk into his office after all those years.   It certainly wasn’t afraid or alone and his chest squeezes at your admission.

“And now?”

“Now I feel …” you trail off as you turn back to look up at him.  “... like everything’s going to be okay.”

He stares back at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how good this feels.  

By how good it feels to be needed by you.  

By how you in his shirt, in his apartment, in his life, makes total sense.  

By how it feels like you belong here.

With him.

“You’re right, Jagiya.  Everything is going to be okay,” Namjoon vows, pulling you into his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair.   “Because I’m going to make sure of it.”

**************************

GLOSSARY:

Gajog: Family

Eomma: Mother

Ttal: Daughter

Amsaja: Lioness

Jaegyueo: Jaguar

TAG LIST:

@prettyguardiansailormin​​​ @barbikatherine​ @55west81st​ @laabellaavitaa21​ @codeinebelle​ @jalexad​ @trynavibewhileicry​ @poohsaidhi​​ @eltrain80​​ @bluewhale52​​ @sahmfanficbts​​ @midnighttifa​​ @krystle1990​​ @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​​ @hauntedlilies​​ @kjooniesbabygirl​​ @unicorn5090​​ @parkjimin-persona​​ @kosicastairs​​ @julia-pacheco-blog​​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​ @katbonv​​ @sunkissed725​​ @yourdaydreamerfan​​

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts mafia #namjoon mafia #ficswithluv #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #btswriterscollective

[prettywordsyouleft]

Someone Real - Part 4

Summary: You had nurtured a crush on Brian Kang since high school. So, when he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family gathering, you jump at the chance and your fantasies start to come to life. However, instead of how you imagined your feelings to bloom, your new neighbour Jae shows you another path to love.

Pairing: Jae Park / Brian Kang x female reader

Genre: romance / fluff / angst / fake dating + fwb au / neighbours to lovers au

Warnings: friends with benefits mentioning, angsty moments, there’s a bit of a love-triangle.

Word count: 1357

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue

“I’m so glad you could make it today, Y/N,” Samantha, Brian’s cousin, said upon your arrival at the bridal boutique.

Smiling brightly and reaching out for the friendly hug she offered, you nodded. “I’m honoured you’d want me here for your final dress fitting.”

“Of course, we do. You’re basically part of the family now, dear,” Brian’s mother mentioned, her fellow family members all nodding in unison.

It was moments like these that left you conflicted. You were well into the second month of your arrangement with Brian, and things were getting serious. Your feelings towards Brian and his family equally. When all this was said and done, you wouldn’t just be losing Brian.

But his entire family.

Swallowing down the guilt you began to feel, you tried to continue smiling instead. “So how about we see this dress, huh?”

Samantha was going to make a beautiful bride. She shone in her dress, her smile so stunning that it hurt. You were incredibly happy for Brian’s cousin to be getting married for love. Yet, you couldn’t help but wish for the same situation for yourself. You wanted to be surrounded by the same joy and love as Samantha was by her family.

You’re not going to marry Brian, though, now are you.

Sometimes, your brain would remind you of the agreement you held with Brian at the most inopportune moments, your emotions hard to maintain after the fitting. On the outside, you were bubbly and light as the rest of the bridal party, but on the inside, you felt like a complete fraud.

Once seated in an uptown eatery with the ladies, you felt Brian’s mother’s gaze on yours. “You alright, dear?”

“Absolutely!”

“We’ve been talking,” Samantha said a moment later, and you turned your attention to the bride to be. She grinned at you. “Brian’s a part of the ceremony. And whilst it’s not been long since we’ve known you Y/N, I’d like to extend the offer to you as his official date to be a part of it too.”

“I’m sorry?”

Brian’s mother chuckled. “Dear, she’s wanting you to be part of the family on the day instead of sitting back with the other guests.”

“Wow,” you breathed, your heart swelling with acceptance. You smiled genuinely, your head nodding along with your hopeful response. “This is so kind of you.”

“Nonsense. You’ll just be returning the favour when you walk down the aisle towards my cousin, right?”

Speechless, you couldn’t respond. Her grandmother did, however. “Y/N, you’ve made my grandson very happy. I hope he’s doing the same for you.”

“He does,” you replied softly, blinking several times and focusing on the meal that was placed down in front of you.

Your appetite was diminishing, though.

Could you really make Brian happy? Arrangement aside, you were unsure if someone like yourself could fulfil Brian like that. You knew without a doubt that you could happily marry Brian. He was the love of your life thus far. From your side, you were willing to put everything into a future with him.

There was no way you could be sure Brian felt the same.

You were exhausted from the conflicting emotions you felt as you farewelled the family members and headed back across town to your apartment. Stopping off at the local grocery store, you tried to focus on the list you produced from your bag, but your thoughts kept slipping away.

“Strange looking apples you’ve just crossed off.”

Blinking away from your thoughts, you glanced in the direction of the voice. Jae shot you his signature lopsided grin and pointed at the grapefruit you had placed in the trolley. You gasped, reaching to take out the fruit and grabbed the bag of apples next to it. “Sorry, I’m not thinking straight.”

“Maybe I ought to help you with that list in case you get something far worse, like cat litter when you don’t own a cat.”

“That would be handy,” you agreed with a chuckle and then fell into step with your neighbour. “How are you and your boxes doing?”

“I’m sad to announce that the boxes and I have parted ways,” Jae proclaimed solemnly, and you lifted a hand to your chest to play along. Jae nodded glumly. “I left them at the recycling centre two weeks ago.”

“Wow, you’ve been living next door that long already?” you asked with surprise, and Jae smirked.

“Almost a month now. What’s been keeping you so busy to notice the time going by? You should have popped over beforehand and said your farewells.”

“I should have. How inconsiderate of me,” you replied before you both broke into laughter. Your thoughts lightened, and as you made your way around the grocery store together, your expression lifted, your smile permanently etched across your lips as you paid for your things.

“Are you making pasta for dinner?” Jae inquired as he helped you with some of your bags, the pair of you walking back to your apartment complex.

You nodded. “And you’re invited!”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. You helped me avoid any cat litter ending up in these bags.”

“True, that I did.” Jae swung his arms more freely, his grin forming again. “Are you any good in the kitchen?”

“You’ll have to find out.”

“That’s a risk. What if you’re not that great, and I have to, as the neighbourly code states, pretend you’re okay before making up some excuse to go home and find some real food?”

“You mean order in Taco Bell.”

“Hey! I’m deeply offended that you haven’t noticed how often I have pizza too,” Jae retorted, and you snorted.

“Well, I can’t top quesadillas or cheesy thick crusts, but I can cook decently. It’s up to you if you are game enough to find out.”

Jae nodded eagerly as he pushed the button to the front door of your complex. “You’re on.”

Dinner had gone down well, and when Jae found you had a gaming setup in your living room, he praised you to the heavens. “Pasta and video games? Are you trying to fulfil all my desires?”

You quirked an eyebrow at his statement. “What kind of desires are you talking about?”

“The neighbourly ones. No longer will I have to eat dinner and play alone. I can just come over here.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” you commented, folding your arms over your chest as you approached the taller man. “It’s all about what I can offer, huh?”

Jae sat down before nodding. “It’s a fair trade, Y/N. I just did all those dishes for you without complaint.”

“That you did,” you agreed with a laugh, plonking down on the couch. You then grinned at Jae. “And you’ll have to do a whole lot more too.”

“Oh?”

“I have this console here for when I have my nephew over. Unless you want to play The Sims, I’m not well-versed in video games now as an adult.”

Jae gasped noisily. “A crime it is to have such a good gaming setup that you’re not even using to the best of its abilities. Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve got all night to teach you how to play.”

Sharing a grin with your neighbour, you picked up the second remote controller and prepared to play the game with him. Allowing Jae to run through the tutorial with you, you waited until your first match before expertly hitting the buttons.

“Wait!” he cried mid-match, darting his focus between you and the screen. Sliding his glasses quickly up the bridge of his nose, he groaned loudly. “You know how to play!”

“That’ll teach you for doubting my cooking skills,” you responded, and Jae laughed heartily, holding up his fist for you to pump. Knocking your knuckles into his, you both got caught up in gaming for several hours.

You didn’t even realise the time slip by with how much fun you had with Jae. Nor did you notice the messages Brian had sent you to hook up with him.

It was the first time since your agreement that you hadn’t given your full attention to your fake date.

_________________

Part 5

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