#*whispers* am i the baddies? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizzyiii · 5 months ago

Note

just read “his lady love” and i’m completely obsessed with your writing, i definitely need a part 2 for that please 😭😭😭

His Lady Love (2)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.8k words

summary | you return to westeros, to find that the young prince has become a man and his burning infatuation with you has not died out and you reconnect with helaena

tags | no warnings? usual mention of targaryen incest (but let's be real, everyone who reads hotd fanfic has now normalised targcest), and child marriage (my poor bby Helaena), filler

note | oh my god, y'all 😭. idk what I was thinking with that dramatic ass mikaelson reveal. as we all know the reader is never described, but as we all also know the mikaelsons are white af. so I'm making it clear that the reader is NOT mikael's daughter, leaving the reader's description and race unknown, esther was busy getting her freak on and her real father will never be disclosed. because in my mind the reader or y/n is and will always be a curly-haired, brown-skinned baddie....so each to their own. AND I'm pretty sure this is going to be a series cause for the life of me I am unable to make a oneshot without further exploring a story.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Five long years had stretched into nearly two thousand sunrises since Aemond Targaryen last laid eyes upon you. Each passing day weighed heavily on his soul, a slow burn of a thousand bitter memories. Some days, the tempest of his emotions roiled within him, bidding him to hate you—for your departure, for the way you had vanished from court like a wisp of smoke, leaving only echoes and shadows in your wake.

But the flames of that hate flickered and faded, giving rise to a deeper yearning, a gaping void where love had once flourished. Even now, after all this time, your spirit held his heart captive, stolen under the very nose of fate when you chose to forsake the realm.

In the wake of your absence, thirteen year old Aemond had become a specter haunting the hallowed halls of the library, pouring over tomes and scrolls in a frantic quest for knowledge of House Mikaelson—a house that seemed to dissolve into the mists of myth with each turn of the page. The histories were silent, and when he turned to his elders, the lords and ladies of the court, their ignorance stung deeper than any sword. Your name was but a whisper lost amongst the louder clamor of dragons and destinies.

Desperation guided his steps toward the Queen’s solar, where his mother resided. He pressed forth, demanding answers of her, yet it was peculiar; though he sought her wisdom and guidance, she seemed to have forgotten the very reason of why she had made you one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her brows knitted with confusion as he spoke your name, her big brown eyes clouded with a nostalgia she could not place.

Yet Aemond could see it in the gentle curve of her lips, in the way her gaze drifted past him, as if searching for a phantom. She missed you, that was clear. Her heart held a chamber of memories crafted from your offered comfort amidst the whispers of court intrigue, from the grace of your presence that had brightened the darker days.

The weight of five relentless years bore heavily upon Aemond Targaryen. Through trials of fire and blood, he had forged himself anew, emerging both mentally and physically formidable. He was now the most skilled swordsman within the keep’s sturdy walls, a warrior of such caliber that even the esteemed Ser Criston Cole would struggle to match his prowess. Secluded in the dim light of solitary training grounds, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes of philosophy and the illustrious history of House Targaryen, dedicated to honing his mind as keenly as his sword.

Yet in this relentless pursuit of strength and mastery, the warmth of his heart had withered, leaving behind only the chill of calculated ambition. His facade, meticulously crafted, rendered him cold and unyielding — a visage so fierce that even the bravest souls flinched at the thought of meeting his gaze directly.

Thus, it was with a jarring dissonance that Aemond entered his sister, Helaena's solar that day. It was a ritual he had come to cherish against the backdrop of his darkening spirit, visiting her and the twins for a fleeting moment of respite. However, as he stepped across the threshold, the air thickened and his breath caught in his throat.

Helaena sat with delicate artistry upon a chaise, embroidering threads of vibrant colors while keeping a watchful eye on her children. But it was not the familiar sight of his sister that seized him. No, there, in the heart of the chamber, stood his mother, Queen Alicent, holding the hands of a woman whose features were obscured from his view. However, even with your back turned, he recognized you and your unmistakable figure.

Alicent’s large, expressive eyes caught his, shimmering with an emotion he had not anticipated. “Aemond,” she uttered softly, the sound piercing through the tension-laden silence.

With the calling of his name, you turned, and the breath in his lungs faltered. The years stretched out like an endless tapestry between the two of you, but as he beheld you standing there after all this time, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

Five long years had passed, and in that span, Aemond had transformed. His once-boyish frame had hardened, each line of muscle now finely chiseled, his stature soaring to a height that eclipsed yours. He had shed the skin of youth and emerged a man forged by the fires of ambition and vengeance, yet he could feel a familiar tug at his heart as he stared at you.

But you… you had remained untouched by time’s relentless march. Your face, flawless and luminous, bore no marks of age; not a wrinkle nor blemish dared mar your smooth skin. Your form he remembered was preserved in perfection, your hair framing your figure in the same glorious waves that had enchanted him years ago.

You were the embodiment of memories he cherished, the same as ever.

For a fleeting heartbeat, Aemond dared to believe you were but a haunting mirage conjured by his yearning heart. If not for the watchful eyes of his mother and sister resting upon you, he would have thought himself lost to despair, ensnared by the fantasies of his own making.

An eternity seemed to stretch in the daunting silence that enveloped the two of you, the world around forgotten as each of you engaged in a quiet, yet profound examination. Your eyes sparkled like the night sky in the light of the day, and when you smiled—the same saccharine smile that had once filled his heart with joy during the innocence of his childhood—it left him breathless. “My prince,” you spoke softly, your voice dancing in the air, “how you’ve grown.”

In that moment, something within him shifted—a profound balm against the bitterness he had nurtured like a dark plant within his chest. All the resentment, the stinging remembrance of your abandonment, and the shadows of sadness that once clouded his thoughts dissipated at the mere sight of your smile. His throat was dry as a winter's night, thoughts scattered like ash on the wind, and yet, the corners of his mouth began to lift involuntarily, mirroring the warmth radiating from you.

Mikaelson.

A name that struck terror into the hearts of countless souls. Yet, here, in this strange realm of Westeros, where dragons soared and the icy dread of White Walkers loomed behind the walls, such fear was but a whisper lost to the winds. No, this land, though foreign and fierce, offered you sanctuary—not the kind woven from solace and warmth, but the kind fortified by distance and the absence of your cursed siblings.

Here, there were no vampires lurking in the cloaks of night, nor were there werewolves howling beneath the pale moonlight. Instead, there were dragons, fierce and resplendent, and direwolves, proud and wild. Most crucially, there was no Mikael—a freedom that tasted of hope amidst you heart's turmoil.

True, you thought often on whether you should have brought your siblings along, for Mikael would never find this place. Yet, a heavy foreboding gripped you; you understood all too well that the Mikaelsons (Niklaus) very presence would shatter the fragile peace you sought. Westeros was far from a land of plenty, riddled with poverty and further burdened by the cruel fate of women, yet in its chaos lay distance.

So, you fled, slipping away into the shrouded embrace of night, abandoning the only family you had known—or, more accurately, what was left of it. It was the sixteenth century, a time when hope flickered dimly in the eyes of men and women alike. You had not laid eyes upon Finn since Niklaus, in his relentless wrath, had condemned him to a tormented existence, and staked a dagger in his heart. Kol fared no better; his defiance had earned him Niklaus' ire, leaving him to face the very same fate that had befallen their eldest brother.

Months had slipped by as you braved the tempestuous seas, each wave an echo of your desperation, each gust of wind whispering promises of a new beginning. You had set sail toward the edge of the earth, guided by an insatiable yearning for freedom—until at last, you had discovered Westeros.

You had arrived in Westeros with an unyielding ambition, your ethereal beauty concealing a fierce determination that allowed you to easily compel your way into the court of Queen Alicent Hightower as one of her ladies-in-waiting. The smell of dragonfire and the whispers of civil war clung to the air, a distinct reminder of the foreign heritage of the Targaryens.

The first time you had seen one of the great beasts aloft, its shadow sweeping across the land, leaving you breathless and in awe. Dragons were an embodiment of the Targaryen power, but alongside that power lurked a shocking underbelly of normalized incestuous unions and the festering decay of traditional familial bonds. For a girl raised among the Mikaelsons, who had danced among the vices of immortality, this was both familiar and grotesque.

Your new world was laced with intrigue—rumors skittered through the halls like restless spirits. The whispers spoke of Princess Rhaenyra and the seed of doubt surrounding her claim to the Iron Throne, the barbs of scandal raised even higher by her many alleged bastards. These complexities intrigued you, compelling you to observe from the outside, where the machinations of power were far more amusing than any political play you had encountered in your old life.

Queen Alicent, though esteemed and regal, bore the weight of her flaws almost indiscernibly, like a cloak of gold marred by rust. From what you could tell, the Queen wielded herself like a pawn—her father being Otto Hightower, an unseen puppeteer, tugging at the strings of her choices. Maternal instinct flickered in Alicent like the candle flames that lit the chamber at night; she faltered and stumbled but made an earnest effort to nurture her children as best she could, though in your opinion she had failed miserably with Aegon. And yet, her fund of effort, a raw and poignant endeavor, resonated with you. The Queen was imperfect, yet within that human frailty lay a semblance of motherhood that Esther Mikaelson had failed to give you.

Thus, in your role as one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, you discovered a sanctuary of sorts. The court became a twisted labyrinth of alliances and betrayals, yet amidst the swirling intrigue, you found comfort in Alicent’s earnest attempts at kindness towards you.

In the two years you had spent in Westeros, you had found solace in the delicate friendship you created with Princess Helaena—a rare gem among the Targaryens, whose sweet and gentle spirit seemed devoid of the cunning that defined her kin. Helaena's quiet understanding struck a chord deep within you, reminiscent of a time before death had twisted your mind. Once, you too had lived in a world that felt like a dream, until Niklaus tore down the veil of your innocence with his ruthless reality check. He had carved fear into your heart, reminding you of the darkness that lurked within the world.

But as you observed Helaena, an overwhelming sorrow enveloped you. The Queen's decree to betroth the princess to Prince Aegon sank like a stone in her gut. Aegon—a broken soul, defined by indulgence and ambition—was a force of chaos that echoed the wickedness of their own familial bond. In many ways, he reminded you of Kol, with his infectious charm and volatile spirit, yet where Kol harbored a flicker of love beneath layers of darkness, Aegon radiated a depravity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart ached at the thought of Helaena being shackled to a boy so unworthy of her light. The specter of Aegon’s reckless nature loomed large, and you feared for the princess's fate. You could see it clearly: with every passing day of their union, Helaena’s spirit would wither under the weight of neglect and cruelty, her gentle soul extinguished in the fires of a loveless bond.

And then there was Prince Aemond, the second youngest son of Alicent's brood—a striking boy marked by a fierce determination to embrace his responsibilities as a prince. You often felt a pang of sympathy when you witnessed the relentless taunts from Aegon and the scornful jeers of his nephews, sorrow swelling in your chest at the knowledge that he was the only Targaryen without a dragon to call his own. And it was hard to ignore the tender glances he cast your way, his violet eyes lingering on you whenever you graced a room.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Aemond standing at your door during the elusive hour of the wolf, his ethereal silver hair, tousled and framing a face streaked with tears, the light of hope dimmed in his now singular violet eye. Fury ignited in your core when he confided the harrowing tale of how Aegon had dragged him to the Street of Silk, that dark sanctuary of vice—your heart shattered for the innocence that had been ripped from him, for the heavy shame that now clung to him, marked by his brother who should have looked out and protected him. By now, Aegon was six-and-ten, he should have gleaned wisdom from his years, yet he chose the path of cruelty instead.

In an effort to soothe the wounded prince, you opened your heart and your arms to him. You conceded to his requests, bathing him with tender care, allowing him the sanctuary of your presence as he lay beside you. Your intentions were pure, untainted by anything but the desire to comfort a boy you had come to deeply care for.

And yet, with a heavy heart, you turned your back on Westeros, your mind haunted by the echoes of family. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, you found yourself yearning for the bonds that had once defined you. The Targaryens, ensnared in their web of resentment and betrayal, made it clear that true loyalty and love were rare treasures. Their familial discord stood in stark contrast to the fierce devotion of your own bloodline. For all the chaos wrought by the Mikaelsons, love remained their unyielding anchor.

Niklaus, with his volatile nature, was both feared and revered by you; yet, beneath that fierce exterior lay a soul tormented by the shadows of his past, perpetually haunted by the specter of abandonment. Finn and Kol, locked in eternal slumber by Niklaus’s cruel whim, lay undisputed in their coffins, yet your brother stood sentinel over them, unwavering and steadfast. The thought of returning to him was chilling; the mere sight of you would surely earn a dagger in your own heart.

You resolved to escape, to steal away before Queen Alicent could impose a husband upon you like a gilded cage. It was meant to be a brief respite, a momentary retreat from your burdens. You had once believed that seamlessly integrating into the intricate tapestry of Westerosi society would be a simple endeavor. Yet, the relentless weight of expectations proved stifling. Each encounter demanded a dance of delicate grace, a façade meticulously curated to meet the desires of those around you, and in turn, it drained your very spirit.

Thus, you sought solace in the sun-drenched lands of Essos, a realm that defied the rigid conventions you had grown weary of. Essos was a land of vibrant colors and broken norms, where the sun shone unabated and the very air seemed to sing of possibility. Gone were the burdens of being gracious and demure, replacing those restraints with the intoxicating freedom to explore the wild tapestry of cultures sprawled before you. In a realm filled with mercenaries and traders, where the scent of spice mingled with the salty sea air, you couldn’t help but feel invigorated.

Shame washed over you like a cold wave, a sharp pang of regret settling in your chest as you sat in Princess Helaena's solar, surrounded by the laughter of her twins, Jahaerys and Jahaera. The children, mere five summers old, served as a vivid reminder of your absence; Helaena had brought them into the world at the tender age of fourteen, while you had been lost in the allure of Essos. Your own selfish pursuits had drawn you away from Westeros, leaving your dear friend to navigate the tides of motherhood without your companionship.

But now, fate had drawn you back to Westeros, though the reason for your return eluded you—perhaps it was mere curiosity, or a desire to witness the Targaryens as they embarked on a path toward their own ruin. Perhaps it was simply the lingering comfort of a maternal embrace that Queen Alicent had once offered you. One thing remained certain: you were back, unchanged yet bound by the curse that clung to the Mikaelsons. You still appeared as you had, forever encased at the tender age of six and ten, the same age at which you had died nearly six centuries ago.

The twins were a study in contrast. Jaehaerys, the young prince, was somber and introspective, casting shy glances your way from beneath the curtain of his silver hair. In contrast, Jaehaera exuded a lively spirit, her laughter as bright as the morning sun. She was a sweet girl, eager for your attention, her small hands clutching her beloved dolls as she beckoned you to join her in playful realms of castles and grand adventures. Every so often, Jaehaerys would join in, indulging his sister’s imagination by taking on the role of a fierce dragon, albeit with a reluctance that made his quiet demeanor all the more endearing.

“I have missed you,” Helaena said softly from her place on the chaise, delicate fingers working through the intricate patterns of her embroidery, her gaze never leaving the fabric.

You met her gaze, a frown momentarily shadowing your features, your heart tightening at the sight of her. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you replied, "As I have missed you, princess. I offer my sincerest apologies for my prolonged absence."

“But you have returned, and that is what matters,” she replied with a tranquil certainty, her expression unwavering.

With a nod, you maintained your tight-lipped smile, the corners of your mouth struggling to lift fully. “Indeed, I have, and I hope to stay here for as long as fate allows.”

As you resumed your playful moments with the twins — Helaena’s voice broke through the lighthearted chaos as she called your name. “Pray tell, how old were you when you came to court?”

Your lips pursed gently as you recounted, your tone tense but soft, “I was but six and ten years, my dear princess.”

An oblivious smile spread across Helaena's face, illuminating her features. “And yet you appear unchanged, as if untouched by time’s passage. Like a Lepidoptera,” she remarked, her imagination weaving images as vivid as the embroidered fabrics around her.

Your brows knitted in puzzlement. "A what, my princess?"

"A Lepidoptera," she patiently repeated, her eyes shimmering with youthful curiosity. "It is a classification that encompasses butterflies, which remain breathtakingly lovely until the end of their days."

A bittersweet pang echoed within you at her words, for you were destined for a far different fate, cursed to wander the shadows as a creature of the night. Yet, you offered a slight nod, managing a soft, "Thank you, my princess," as you absorbed the weight of her innocent compliment.

“And yet, I cannot claim to have missed you as intensely as Aemond has,” Helaena mused, her gaze distant as you idly threaded your fingers through Jaehaera's shimmering locks of silver.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp what you mean,” you replied softly, masking your understanding with a facade of innocence.

“I believe you are quite aware,” Helaena said softly, a melodic note in her voice, her smile lingering with a teasing warmth, “Aemond has loved you since he was a mere boy.”

You cast her a sidelong glance before adopting an air of nonchalance. “Love is a weighty term for one so young, Princess. Surely, it was nothing more than a fleeting fancy.”

Helaena shook her head, her needlework a steady rhythm in her hands. “No, I do not believe so.”

Deep down, you didn't believe so either. Ever since your return to the depressive halls of King's Landing, a sensation had accompanied your every step—a watchful gaze lingering upon you. Aemond had worked to keep it hidden, but your heightened senses revealed the quiet intensity of his interest, as vivid as the summer sun.

There had been numerous revelations awaiting you upon your return to the Red Keep—the prideful births of young Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, the scandal of Rhaenyra and her uncle Daemon's elopement, and the grim decline of King Viserys's health, shadows stained upon the Iron Throne. Yet, the most haunting transformation was that of Prince Aemond.

Aegon had blossomed into the drunken sleaze you had always anticipated, a replica of the whims that dictated his every choice, but Aemond—oh, how he was the exact opposite of what you had envisioned. The youthful boy, once soft and unassuming, had unfurled into a striking figure, sharpened like the blade of a Targaryen sword, each line of his form etched with the harshness of time and expectation. His stature now towered over you, his presence immense, a tempest contained within the boundaries of a man’s body.

He seemed to carry within him a quiet fury, a storm beneath the surface, and it stirred something deep within you, a memory of that boy who had once been desperate for approval and had hope for a dragon. His boyish softness had been replaced by the resolute presence of a true dragon, a stark reminder of the power and peril that resided within his bloodline.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #ewan mitchell #the originals #mikaelson #vampire!reader

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kurokawaia · 6 months ago

Text

❛ He's Unexperienced ❜

Postwar!Virgin!Uchiha Sasuke X fem!Reader

WC; 2.6k+ | ! MDNI ! | TW/CW; afab reader, she/her pronouns, oral -> male receiving, blowjob, experienced reader, reader is the dom here, reader is playful and flirty, PIV, PWP, riding, grinding, fem!dom x male!sub

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Hello :) l have a new request for Sasuke again , can you please write first time with Sasuke , like he is a virgin ( sorry I have a virgin kink :,) and reader has some experience. Like they liked each other in the academy days and were together in team 7 but after he left the village reader tried forgetting him by going out with other boys . Could you please make reader soft Dom and flirty / playful , you can make them in his baddie arc or postwar (whatever you want) , sorry I am demanding too much details but this is what came to my mind :)) - @enouche

honey's a/note :: I have made sure to add your two other requests into this, the morning after and the bj :) -> req2 req3, THIS WAS LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO BE LMAOOO

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

It had been several years since Sasuke left the village, pursuing his own path of vengeance. For {Y/n}, his departure had left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

She hadn't bothered to help in bringing him back, she didn't want to, it was his choice, right?

Before Sasuke came back she was filled with an empty feeling, a need to forget. She would walk through Konoha, her mind drifting back to the days she spent with Sasuke. The memories were bittersweet; She had loved him deeply, but that love had turned into a painful reminder of what could never be.

{Y/n} began to seek sex in the company of others. She dated different men, hoping to find a connection that could help her forget Sasuke. With each relationship, she gained more experience in all aspects, love, what to give, sex, learning about herself and what she wanted from a partner. However, none of them could truly replace the space Sasuke had left in her heart.

Her first relationship after Sasuke departed was with Kenta.

Next was Hirosh.

Then there was Daichi.

One evening, as {Y/n} strolled through the village, she felt a familiar presence. Her heart skipped a beat, and she turned to see Sasuke standing there. He had returned.

"Sasuke," she whispered.

He approached her slowly, his expression unreadable. "{Y/n}," he replied softly. "It's been a long time."

They stood in silence, the weight of their shared past hanging heavily between them. Finally, Y/N found the courage to speak. "Why are you here?"

"I've finished what I needed to do," Sasuke said, his gaze never leaving hers. "I've come back to make amends. Naruto brought me back."

{Y/n}'s heart ached at his words. She had spent so long trying to move on, yet seeing him again brought all her feelings rushing back. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Sasuke replied, taking a step closer. "I know I've hurt you. And I understand if you can't forgive me."

Tears welled up in {Y/n}'s eyes. "Sasuke, you left a hole in my heart that no one else could fill. I've tried to move on, but..."

Sasuke gently wiped away her tears, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "I never stopped thinking about you, {Y/n}. I realized too late what I had lost."

{Y/n} looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. She could see the sincerity, the regret, and the hope. "Sasuke," she began, her voice trembling, "I don't know if we can go back to what we were. But maybe we can start anew."

A small, rare smile appeared on Sasuke's face. "I'd like that."

The weeks passed in a blur of shared moments and tentative steps toward rebuilding your relationship. You and Sasuke spent your days training together, reminiscing about the past, and forging new memories. With each passing day, your bond grew stronger, the wounds of the past slowly healing.

One evening, as you sat on the rooftop of your apartment, watching the stars, an unspoken tension filled the air. The closeness you shared had become undeniable, the unaddressed feelings bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Sasuke," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "do you ever think about... us?"

Sasuke turned to you, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Every day," he admitted. "I think about what we could have been, and what we could still be."

Heart pounding, you took a deep breath. "I've been trying to forget you, to move on. But no matter how hard I try, you're always there, in my heart."

Sasuke reached out, gently cupping your face in his hand. "I've made mistakes, {Y/n}. But if you'll have me, I want to make things right. I want us to have a future."

Tears filled your eyes, but this time, they were tears of hope. "I want that too, Sasuke."

Without another word, Sasuke closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a kiss that spoke of years of longing and unspoken feelings, a kiss that promised a new beginning.

As your lips parted, you gazed at each other, breathless and full of emotion. Sasuke's hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded in kind, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your kisses grew more intense, fueled by the pent-up desire and the deep connection you shared. Sasuke's hand roamed your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer still.

Time seemed to stand still as you made out under the starry sky, the world around you fading away. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only the love you had rediscovered and the promise of a future together.

As you finally pulled away, both breathless and flushed, you rested your forehead against Sasuke's. "I'm glad you're back," you whispered.

Sasuke smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face. "So am I, {Y/n}. So am I."

"Sasuke..." you asked slowly, "I..."

"What is it?" he asked, confused.

You press your lips against his once more, your tongue slipping into his mouth causing a surprised groan to leave his mouth into your own. The arm wrapped around your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him.

Pulling away from his mouth, your hands place themselves onto his chest, nails lightly scratching his covered skin, skin that you so desperately wanted to see. "Can we fuck, please," you ask, a flirty undertone in your voice.

Sasuke's eyes widen, not knowing what to say. "If you don't want to-"

"I haven't done anything like this before," Sasuke replied, a soft pink hue coating his pale cheeks and you let a soft smirk spread onto your plump lips.

"Well," you say, whispering into his ear. "Good thing you have me here to help you out with that."

"Have you..." he trailed off slowly, unsure what to ask you, not wanting you to feel offended.

"I have had sex before, Sasuke," you reply swiftly and you could see Sasuke's jaw clench. "Only because I wanted to forget you," you reassured. "But you have me all to yourself now."

Sasuke let out a hum before he forwardly gripped your hair and smashed his lips against yours, wanting to hear the soft mewls that escaped your mouth previously when you two kissed.

A gasp left your mouth. Not only from the sensation of Sasuke kissing you with a new fervour but his bulge was prominent in his slacks, pressing against your soaked cunt. "Sasuke," you breathed out against his lips. "I-Inside," you smirk.

And then, you two messily made your way to the bed. You discarded Sasuke's shirt and slacks while you were left in a softly laced bra and plain panties. You pushed Sasuke to the bed and sat onto his lap, tongue entangling with his once more while Sasuke didn't know what to do.

You were experienced, he thought, and he wasn't. He had no choice but to let you and your forward, flirty demeanour to take over every single inch of his body, a dull sense of pleasure coursing through his veins. But, the more you continued to make Sasuke groan against your lips the more the pleasure was growing stronger in his body.

"Can I touch you?" you asked, breathing heavily.

Sasuke's head lolls back against the bed head, a lump being swallowed evidently in his throat, and the sight make you swell while your nipples perked underneath the lacy fabric. "Yeah," he replied, a his hand running through his hair.

My eyes lit up and I slipped his boxers down, his thick and long length hitting his abs. A hiss leaves his mouth at the contact. You held the base of his cock with one hand while your other hand went for his throbbing tip, Sasuke jerked at the sensation, a shaky hand covering his mouth.

Your fingers continued the play with the pre-cum spilling from his slit before the flat of your tongue slide slowly up the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins that rippled up to the head of his cock.

Sasukes head was thrown back but his eyes remained on yours, your eyes looking up at him, innocent and doe, although, Sasuke now knows what you truly are capable of. Sasuke continued to cover his mouth with his hand which made you pout.

"Sasuke," you called, letting your tongue leave his swollen length which caused a deep sigh to leave his mouth. You pull his hand away from his mouth and guided it to your hair, making him wrap his fingers around the tousles of your hair. "You being quite quiet, but I wanna hear all the sounds lave your mouth, 'kay?" you continued in a gentle tone, a smirk interlaced with your voice in the process.

But all that Sasuke could do was finally let out a groan when the hand that was gripping his base slid up and down slowly, sliding effortlessly due to his slick that beaded at his tip. You felt his grip loosen around your hair. "Ah ah," you hum to him caused him to let out an annoyed sigh, clearly he wasn't aware that he could make any sort of those lewd noises.

Mellos head was thrown back while a deep groan emitted from his lips while his grip tightened in my hair. My fingers played with the slit of his shaft, spreading the precum that spilled from his swollen tip causing a hiss to leave his mouth.

Finally taking his throbbing length into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his pink tip before you made your way down his cock. Trying to take him as deep as you could without gagging. You used one of your hands to jerk the rest you couldn't possibly take down. Your other hand slayed on his lower abdomen.

Groans left Sasuke pretty lips, and they get more frequent when you take him further into your hot and slick mouth. "Such pretty sounds," you say as you lift yourself from his length before going down again, wanting to feel his come spill in your mouth, wanting to feel how his body will jerk and tremble under your touch.

Sasuke began to move your head through the tuffs of your hair, and you hummed in content, feeling so happy that he was finally having some dominance over you. You loved how you were almost gagging on his length, but you still wanted more of him.

Tears began to well in you eyes at the pace and gagging at every hit. HIs eyes widen at the sight of your doe eyes spilling with tears as you took him in your sloppy mouth. Sasuke sped up the pace of his movements, causing more tears to spill from your eyes. He lets out a chocked moan as you hollowed your cheeks which caused him to falter in his advances. His load spills into your mouth as he pulls away from you.

You instinctively let the sticky load spill from your mouth, letting the white liquid fall onto the bed beside you. Wiping your mouth you straddle Sasukes lap. His eyes were closed and was breathing heavily before his eyes snapped open at his dick being clenched by something again, but walls that were softer and tighter.

“Fuck, Sasuke... So big,” you moan, feeling the thick, lengthy cock split you open. A moan rasped from Sasukes mouth as you sunk yourself down onto his cock, still hard and throbbing. Your eyes lit up at the sound, the noise going straight to your gummy walls. A pleasured sigh leaves your mouth while Sasuke's hand went straight to your hip, gripping your plump flesh.

Your hands splayed themselves on his abs as you were now flush against his abdomen. A moan leaves your lips as his cock was perfectly hitting that soft, gummy spot inside your cunt. No words left Sasukes mouth but he absolutely loved the feeling of your hot walls tightly squeeze his dick, the words replaced by the groans and moans that he found out, you loved to hear.

"Sasuke," you breath out, beginning to move your hips, moving up and down the full length of his cock. Your clit grinds down against his abdomen, adding extra tingles to shoot through your body.

"{Y/n} please," Sasuke groans, his hand gripping your hip tighter.

"Huh?" you smirk with a humoured tone, struggling to keep up with the pleasure and converse with him at the same time. "Do you want to come?"

"Yeah," he replies breathlessly.

"Where, love? Inside? I'm not opposed," you giggle.

Sasuke's hips jerk up into your own, causing your body to fall forward and his arm wraps around you back as he fucks into your body, moans spilling from your mouth. Sasuke and you pound int each others, moans and chant of each others names spilling from the two of your mouths.

Sasuke squishes himself deeply inside you, a loud groan slipping from his mouth as his come spills thickly inside your now full womb. You came at the same time and there was a creamy ring of your mixed comes around his softening lenght.

You slide yourself off and you let out a soft whine before pressing your lips against his, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

"I love you, Sasuke," you say against his lips.

"I love you," he replied, love coaxed in his pupil blown eyes.

The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of freshly prepared food, mingling with the lingering warmth of their recent closeness. Sasuke stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist as you both leaned against the counter. His breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want you again," Sasuke murmured, his voice low and husky. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You chuckled softly, turning your head to meet his gaze. "We need to eat, Sasuke. The food's getting cold."

His dark eyes bore into yours, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't mind if it gets a little colder."

You playfully swatted his arm. "Come on, we can continue later. Besides, you need to keep up your strength," you teased, reaching for a plate of food.

Sasuke sighed, his grip loosening slightly. "You're right. But don't think I'm letting you off the hook that easily."

You smiled, handing him a plate. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

#sasuke x fem!reader #sasuke x reader #sasuke x you #sasuke smut #sasuke x reader smut #naruto smut #naruto x reader #afab reader #sasuke x fem!reader smut

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v3nusstardust · 10 months ago

Text

My Love, Mine All Mine

Genre : Comfort, fluff 🙈

Summary : You had a terrible day at work/school. Everyone treated you like shit and as soon as you got home, you began to cry and vent to your boyfriend.

Warnings : none honey this is good Fr 🐺 #baddie

a/n : bois I saw Niki listening to this fkn song on Weverse and freaked the fuck out so here I am🐺.. my ass is also not gonna edit so v sorry for mistakes🧑🏻‍🦲..

Niki held you in his arms, rocking you gently. You were crying, venting to him about your shitty day. Snot, drool, and tears cascaded down your face, smudging your mascara and leaving you feeling terrified of how you must look to your boyfriend. His gentle touch caressed your face. “Look at me.” He whispered. “No.. my makeup is… it’s messed up and I look scary.” You said through sniffles. “Please Angel?” He pleaded softly. His voice was so soft snd smooth, how could you resist? You slowly looked up at him. Your eyes met with his and he gave you a warm smile. “Hi pretty girl..” he cooed. His thumbs tenderly wiped away your warm tears. “I look scary don’t I? Like a raccoon.. or something..” you said. “A cute raccoon.” Niki gently laughed. He continued to caress your face with admiration and love in his eyes.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "Go sit in front of your vanity. I'll be back, okay? I’m gonna go to the kitchen really quick.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your wet cheeks before you reluctantly nodded, your pout and teary eyes melted his heart. "Okay," you murmured softly.

When he returned, his hands were filled with your favorite snacks.🩷

"Alright, here. Eat some snacks," he said, placing them on your wide vanity. You eagerly grabbed a bag of your favorite chips and some candies, feeling a bit more comfortable. You grabbed some makeup wipes and wipes away all of your smudged makeup.

"Where are your hair ties?" he asked, rummaging through your drawer. "They're here on my vanity... why?" you inquired. "Gimme," he replied with a smile, and you handed them to him. He then took out a couple and put them around his wrists.

"Can I connect to your speaker?" he questioned. "Yeah, sure," you replied.

The familiar melody of your favorite song, "My Love, Mine All Mine" by Mitski, filled the room, making you smile. “How’d you know I like this song?” You asked. "I've heard you sing this in the shower a couple of times... you have a beautiful voice, Y/N," he said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing your forehead. You blushed at the compliment, feeling a rush of warmth.

"Okay... let me know if I'm hurting you... I'm not the best with this stuff," he said, picking up your hairbrush.

Niki began to brush through your hair slowly and gently, his touch soothing and comforting. The tension began to melt away as the gentle strokes of the brush untangled knots and smoothed out your hair. The music played softly in the background, creating a comforting atmosphere in the room.

“Close your eyes. I wanna surprise you.” He smiled. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment.

You felt Niki's movements around you, a sense of anticipation building in your chest. His touch remained gentle as he worked, his hands moving with practiced ease through your hair. You could faintly hear him singing the song, your favorite🩷 his voice was so pretty , it made you feel so warm inside.

Slowly, you blinked your eyes open, greeted by the sight of yourself in the mirror. Your hair was styled in a cute single braid.

“You look so pretty..” he whispered as he bent down to place a kiss to your cheek. “Say it..” he said. “Huh..? Say what?” You asked. “Say you’re pretty.. look at yourself my love..” he tucked a couple strands of hair behind your ear. “I’m pretty..” you softly smiled at yourself in the mirror. Niki let out a little chuckle. “You should take a picture and post your hair style on your insta.. show it off though that I did it.. I wanna make your exes and secret admirers jealous lowkey..” he laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Is that why you did my hair.. and played my favorite song?…” you questioned with a hint of sass. “No.. I just wanna show my girl how much I love her..you’re mine.. mine all mine..” he said caressing your bottom lip with his thumb before bringing your soft lips to his.

A/n : Ight bois srry for the mistakes if there are any u guys💀 ima disappear for another 3 months.. unless this shi blows up I think😭 🩷x enjoy

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goldfades · 11 months ago

Note

👒🌱 Hey! I was trying to decide what to request and i was thinking of a mixture of angst and fluff and couldn’t decide. I picked the prompts below. I am thinking of a scenario where you run into trouble… something scary or sad happens and they have to come to your rescue (even though we are all baddies who don’t need men lmao) and they protect you/make things better. With jack please and thank you! 💕

33. "don't worry. i'll keep you safe no matter what."

7. "can i stay with you tonight? i don't want to go home."

𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 1.1k

♡ ─ warnings | creepy drunk men, protective!jack, alcohol, mention of anxiety, nothing else!

♡ ─ ev's notes | i didn't use the last prompt, it didn't cross my mind i'm sorry!

You looked down at your drink as you listened to Jack and his friends talk about something sports. You were zoned out, in your own world as the music played through the speakers of the bar. As you gazed into your drink, the ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glass, creating a soothing sound that seemed to echo.

You felt Jack's hands moved to your shoulders and squeeze unexpectedly making you jump slightly, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. You looked up at your boyfriend, a smile playing on your lips. The warmth in his gaze was comforting, grounding you in the present moment.

"Hey there," Jack said, his voice soft amid the background noise of the bar. "Everything alright?"

You nodded, the warmth of his touch seeping into you. "Just lost in thought, I guess. But I'm here now."

His smile widened, and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Well, welcome back," he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin. Feeling the tension melt away, you leaned into his embrace, savoring the comfort of his presence amidst the loud bar.

"Jack!" You both turned your heads at the sound. "Let's play some pool, whoever loses buys all of us a round."

Jack grinned at the challenge, exchanging a quick glance with you before nodding in agreement. "Okay, buddy. Are we gonna have a replay of last Saturday night," he called back to his friend, a playful spark in his eyes. "You comin', sweetheart?"

You nodded, "I'll be right there, I'm gonna go get a refill."

As Jack headed towards the pool table, you made your way to the bar to get a refill. The bartender greeted you with a nod as you approached.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked over the loud music of the bar.

"Another one of these," you replied, holding up your nearly empty glass. The bartender swiftly took it, and with a knowing smile, began preparing your drink.

As you waited, you glanced around, taking in the eclectic mix of people and the décor that adorned the walls. You kept looking back to see if Jack was still at the pool table, nervousness settling in the pit of your stomach. You suddenly felt someone come up behind you and sit next to you, you expected it to be Jack or one of your friends, you weren't expecting a man you didn't recognize.

Your anxiety spiked as you felt the presence of the unfamiliar man beside you, his sudden appearance sending a jolt of unease through your body.

"Hey there," he greeted, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the bar. Mind if I join you?"

You managed a polite but cautious smile, "Uh, thanks, but I'm actually here with my boyfriend."

He let out a bitter laugh as he shook his head. "Who said anything about boyfriends, just bein' friendly. Can I get you a drink?"

"Thanks, but I'm good," you replied, trying to maintain a firm but polite boundary. The uneasy tension lingered in the air as you kept stealing glances towards the pool table, hoping Jack or one of your friends would notice the situation.

The man leaned in a little closer, his demeanor becoming more assertive. You could smell the alcohol all over him, your stomach twisting in anxiety. "Come on, just one drink. We can chat a bit, no harm in that."

A subtle sense of alarm crept over you, "I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not. Excuse me," you said, attempting to get up, forgetting about the drink you had bought. He immediately got up as well, blocking you from getting up.

"I insist," he said, his voice edged with a persistence that sent chills down your spine. "Just one drink, it won't hurt. What's the harm in a little conversation?"

Panic simmered beneath the surface as you glanced around, hoping someone from your group or the bar staff would notice the situation. "I really need to get back to my boyfriend," you asserted, your voice firm but tinged with urgency. You tried to sidestep him, but he moved in sync with your every move, maintaining the blockade.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't be so uptight," he pressed, his demeanor taking on a more aggressive tone.

"I said no." You finally shouted, looking up at the man and trying to finally walk away. As soon you thought you had gotten away, you felt his hand grab your arm and pull you backwards, falling back on the bar.

A surge of fear and anger fueled you as you planted your feet on the ground, summoning every ounce of strength to resist. "Let go of me!" you demanded, your voice trembling with fear.

Before the man could do anything else, he was pushed to the ground by a force. You blinked up at Jack, relief running through your veins. Jack then grabbed him up by the collar, "Why do you have your fucking hands on her?"

"Relax, man-"

"Relax? You just pinned my girlfriend on the bar when she told you no, what the fuck do you mean relax?" Jack's voice boomed with anger, his grip tightening on the man's collar.

"I-I didn't mean anything by it. Just trying to talk, you know?" he stammered, his voice faltering under Jack's unwavering gaze.

"You're fucking lucky I haven't beat your ass by now, buddy." Jack's jaw clenched, his protective instincts in full force. He pushed the man to the floor, "Fuckin' pussy."

As Jack walked back towards you, his anger began to subside, replaced by a concern that softened his features. The intensity in his eyes gave way to a warmer expression as he reached out to you. "I'm sorry, baby I should've come with you."

"No, no it's not your fault. I just should've waited until you were done, I forgot how weird men could be."

Jack's arms tightened around you, offering silent reassurance and support. "I know, baby. It's not your fault either. You shouldn't have to worry about stuff like this," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "I'll keep you safe no matter what, okay?"

You gently touched his cheek, the warmth of your touch encouraging him to meet your gaze. "It's okay, really. I handled it, and you came to my rescue. That's all that matters."

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the lingering tension from the encounter began to dissipate. Jack pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead

"I love you," he whispered, his words warm as he spoke.

"I love you too," you replied, the simple affirmation carrying with it a promise of shared strength and enduring support.

"Let's go home, alright?" Jack suggested, his voice a gentle invitation laced with concern.

You nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Hand in hand, you both made your way towards the exit, leaving the bar and its unsettling memories behind. The night air outside felt crisp and cool, a welcome contrast to the intensity of the enclosed space you had just left.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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deesseshesca · 10 days ago

Text

PAC : How do I unblock myself ?

I am the baddie and the CEO !

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1

SONG : DENIAL IS RIVER - Doechii

You’ve been carrying the weight of your own potential like a secret, whispering your brilliance instead of shouting it to the world. But here’s the truth: you are radiant, and your beauty—inside and out—is a currency that opens doors others can’t even see. Stop pretending it’s not. Stop shrinking to make others comfortable.

The path forward is in embracing what you already know but are hesitant to accept: your uniqueness is not just a gift; it’s your power. You don’t need to downplay it to seem more “relatable” or “deserving.” That humility you think keeps you grounded is only a chain, not an anchor. Let it go.

You’ve already built a foundation with so much love and intention, but it’s time to celebrate it. Celebrate yourself. Success isn’t meant to be a struggle at every turn, and the easiest path to it is the one that feels natural—effortless even. Trust the parts of you that others admire, the parts you sometimes brush aside.

This isn’t about arrogance; it’s about truth. Lean into your talents, your charm, and your allure without apology. Once you do, you’ll find the rhythm of your life moving in harmony with your dreams. That’s when the celebration begins—not just for you, but for everything you’ll inspire in those lucky enough to witness your journey.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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PILE 2

SONG : WAHALA - CKay ft Olamide

You’ve been circling the same path, trying to figure out why you can’t break free. The answer? You’ve been holding the key this entire time, but you’re afraid to use it. You keep telling yourself it’s safer to stay where you are—working hard, waiting for the moment when things finally make sense. But deep down, you know that moment won’t come until you let go of what no longer serves you.

You’re stuck in a cycle because you’re clinging to an old way of being, one that feels familiar but drains you. You’ve been trying to build something solid without fully trusting your vision, collaborating without trusting yourself. That hesitation is keeping your world small.

The truth is, the only way forward is through. You have to let yourself feel the disappointment of what didn’t work out and stop looking for clarity in the same old places. You already know what needs to change, even if it feels uncomfortable or risky. Stop waiting for permission to want more, to ask for more, to be more.

Your breakthrough is on the other side of surrender. Not to the cycle, but to yourself. Let go of what’s blocking you—fear, overthinking, or even relationships that don’t inspire you. Start creating from a place of passion instead of perfection, and watch how quickly the walls around you crumble. This is your chance to rewrite the story and step into the life you’ve been dreaming of. It’s waiting for you, but you have to decide you’re ready.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 3

SONG : OZEBA - Rema

You’ve been standing at a crossroads, torn between the safe path and the one that whispers promises of power you’ve been too afraid to claim. That hesitation, that fear of stepping into the unknown, has left you feeling disconnected—not just from others, but from yourself. It’s time to face the truth: you can’t keep running from the shadows when they’re the very place your light is meant to shine.

You’ve been rejecting parts of yourself that are raw, intense, and undeniably magnetic, all in an effort to stay within the lines someone else drew for you. But those lines? They were never meant for you. The parts of yourself you’ve been hiding—the hunger, the ambition, the fire—aren’t flaws. They’re your power, waiting to be unleashed.

Embracing your dark side doesn’t mean losing control; it means reclaiming it. The things you’ve been taught to fear—your desires, your intuition, even the mysteries of the occult—are tools, not traps. They’re there to guide you, to help you break free from the chains of self-doubt and scarcity.

You don’t need permission to step into this version of yourself. You don’t need anyone else’s approval to explore the magic that lives within you. This is your moment to shed the fear, to rewrite the rules, and to rise—unapologetically. Let your curiosity lead you into the unknown, and trust that even in the darkest corners, you’ll find exactly what you need to create the life you’ve been craving.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

#tarot #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #divination #pac #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #divine timing #divine guidance #intuitive messages #intuitive guidance #intuition

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bbunisre · 1 month ago

Text

EPISODE 1

PAIRING ☆ jean kirschtein x fem!oc! ( you can just imagine it as yourself!!! i tried to describe physical features for this purpose x )

WARNINGS ☆ no smut in this one, dirty, slowburn, lots of teasing, a little niccolo x oc, voyeurism (???), vulgar and dirty jokes lol, baddie main character

SUMMARY ☆ In which Mirabelle enters Paradis Island years before the Liberio Attack and finds herself instantly interested in Jean Kirschtein, an innocent man who is soon tied mercilessly to her womanly wiles. Jean attempts to escape her but can only run so far before he starts running back to her.

WORD COUNT ☆ 12k

TAGLIST ☆ @lakeiskewl @greenie-c @alt--er--love @kcch-ns @nobodybutnnoorr @biggityboppingboob @sssmokesignalsss lmk if u want to be added <3

MASTERLIST

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Living in the storage section of a Marleyan warship for several days comes with having my limbs squished between a box of deactivated bombs and ration packs. It’s one of the several cons of being stuck here, besides the seasickness, having to freeze up when soldiers come in to look for things and multiple hours of being bored, plotting my arrival.

Voices atop tell me there’s a disturbance up ahead the boat. Well, they aren’t telling me. The Marleyan soldiers don’t actually know I’m here at all. It should be kept that way until it’s time is what Yelena strictly instructed.

It’s been forever-and-a-half since we left Marley! We certainly must've arrived on the coast of Paradis by now. I’ve been sharpening the blade all this while like a good girl. Can something happen already?

I stretch my body after eight hours of sitting in a cramped position. The commotion above doesn’t surprise me as I feel the familiar pull in my limbs and torso. An assassin’s flexibility is unmatched, a small breeze in the air, seductive and chilling as we kill our victims.

An explosion and a loud horn cause yells on the warship but a smile on my face.

Thank you, Yelena.

I flip the dagger into my belt as I make my way up the stairs I snuck down merely a few days ago.

I have to be quick but soft.

They can’t know I’m here.

Not yet, at least.

The cool air makes contact with my skin, clearing my lungs and any mustiness that has accumulated instantly. But there wasn’t any time to relish in this moment. I’m here to get the job done—the Beast is counting on me.

The soldiers are stunned at what’s in front of them. I try to get a look at the situation from where I am, right behind, in the corner of the door where no moonlight can reveal me.

Outside is dark, but lighter than inside the storage bunker where I couldn’t figure out who was coming unless I really tried to listen through the water. The first thing I notice about Paradis Island is that the stars here are explicit, little trinkets hung on the blanket they sit on. That, and the many lights by the tents that illuminate where they must be living. Yelena did tell me when she snuck into Marley in between to pick up a couple of the supplies that the stars here shine way brighter.

It’s beautiful.

I shake my head. I can look at the stars later. I have to assess the situation we’re in first.

Beyond the vessel is rocky land and what looks like many rifles being pointed towards the warfare ship. I attempt to look for Yelena through the hunter green capes but the lanky woman is nowhere to be seen.

I roll my eyes.

Looks like I’ll have to get to work.

Cracking my neck, I slide behind the soldier closest to me.

I slink my arms around him, one coming up to cover his mouth and one around his torso and arms. I whisper in his ear, “Make this easy for me.”

He whimpers against the palm of my hand, making me smile.

That’s cute. He’s scared of me.

The power thrills me, sending goosebumps through my skin. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in action.

I snake up his chest, up his neck. before he can move or do anything, I twist his neck. He falls onto my lifted foot like I wanted, noiseless and efficient.

The rest of the soldiers are paying attention to the rifles pointed at them and a Paradis person screaming through a megaphone at how excited they are to see Marleyans on their grounds and how they want to invite all of us onto their island.

Is that supposed to be welcoming?

I snatch the pistol off of the soldier I just injured, popping a few bullets into the barrel. The soldier opens his mouth, heaving in to scream but I smash my foot onto his face, glaring right down at him.

That was a close one.

They’re all blindly focused on the Paradis soldiers so I make the decision to move.

Now or never, baby.

I cock back the pistol, gaining the attention of the Marleyans.

Their eyes widen.

I clear my throat, “Hi!”

“Who are you?!” the captain of the ship hollers at me.

I kick back the face of the soldier underneath me and walk towards the Captain. The soldiers pull out their guns rapidly, only to cause me to laugh.

“Don’t shoot, men.” he orders them in his husky tone.

“Doesn’t matter if they only got dummy bullets in them.”

The Captain hesitates, puzzled by my response, “Excuse me—”

“You’re too slow, Captain.”

I launch the dagger into his neck. Blood splatters out of his throat and mouth as he lands with a thud. He’ll be dead soon. I stabbed the artery after all!

Slipping my dagger right back out, five men charge towards me, hostility swimming through them.

I kick the first one on the side of the face, sending him towards the side. The next two with simple dagger slices in their necks like their damned Captain. The next one is a dodge—I let that one fall over the boat and into the water.

The last soldier grabs me by the shoulders while I’m cackling at the soldier who fell overboard. He shoves me against the boat’s railing. My head hits the metal, a weird vibration making the world spin in a way seasickness could never.

Said soldier grabs his pistol and shoves it into my mouth.

I cry aloud. He yanks my hair back so I can properly taste the coarseness of the instrument almost hitting the back of my throat.

I’m going to pass out from suffocation or a dummy bullet.

It’s going to be the end of me.

“I’m going to choke you out, whore.” he says.

It’s then that a lightbulb goes off in my head.

He gets off on the fact that he’s in power right now, that at any moment now he can push me off the boat, shoot a bullet down my throat and touch me however he pleases. The sinisterness in his eyes illustrates his devotion to his job, the real grotesque that comes with it.

I’m dealing with someone much like me—a sadistic fuck.

With all my strength, I discreetly pull out my own pistol that I stole earlier, tears slipping out of my eyes.

Just one push, just one push—

I heave my knee into his manhood and shoot him in his abdomen.

He flies back, along with his pistol.

Coughing, I grab my dagger and kick his chest to send the man flying down onto the wooden board. He yells in pain, a cry that is my favourite sound a human’s ever made. It’s washed out and terrible, sending a chill down my spine.

I swear I hear cheers from the island but it could just be my near passing out from the pistol down my throat.

I straddle the crying soldier and raise the dagger above my head.

“Please,” he blurts out, “Please spare me, ma’am.”

I throw my head back, laughing, “Oh God…no!”

The dagger sinks into his face. Right in between his eyes, at the beginning of the slope of his nose.

One stab renders him deceased.

However, one stab doesn’t satisfy the assassin in me.

Two, three, four, five, six—blood splatters onto my face and clothes, a forced strength coming out of my arms and the target’s face absolutely unrecognisable.

Finally, when I’m about to take the seventh, someone pulls me away from the body forcefully. I launch the dagger backwards but it’s caught for the first time by a hand right above their head.

Instead of trying to pull it out, I yelp in surprise.

“Yelena!” I huff out.

“About to kill me too?” she jokes, nothing in her eyes. As usual.

“Yelena~!” I repeat and wrap my arms around her torso.

“Gross.” she sighs at all the blood of two Marleyans rubbing onto her ironed, white shirt.

Yelena kindly puts a towel around my shoulders.

That’s right. I didn’t even think to check on myself.

I’m breathing so hard, there’s blood all over my hands and clothes and I’m super excited that I completed my mission to perfection again.

“Oops.” I chuckle, pulling out, “I can’t believe you guys left me!”

“Not my fault someone slept through their alarm on the day we left.”

I punch her playfully, glad I finally see someone I’m familiar with after so long.

“Let’s go.” she says.

“Oh, the sailor! I haven’t killed him yet!” I tell her, pointing at the back of the ship,

Yelena shakes her head, pulling my bloody arm towards the dock, “That’s enough killing for you today. We’ll handle it from here. Let’s go get cleaned up first.”

As I walk down the wooden dock, impressed, blank faces stare back at me. My breathing slows down to a steadier pace as I stare right back, unsure on how to react to this weird attention. What I just did is equivalent to a murderous performance.

I don’t think they’ve seen a massacre happen so quickly in front of them. I don’t blame them. I set a record in Marley. Especially working for the Tybur clan, I was trained to be the assassin I am today. However, I’m not particularly used to doing it in front of people.

That’s the thing about assassins, we’re supposed to take one’s life in private.

“Get to work!” one of the Paradis soldiers yell, “Stop staring, brats!”

A few soldiers walk down the dock, presumably to get the sailor’s head. One of them stands out—extremely tall, brown hair and a sparkle of innocence as he watches me intently. There’s curiosity within that innocence I discern easily, a little mouse coming out of its hole, respectfully.

A smile forms on my lips.

He blinks at me, blank, yet he knows I’m looking exactly at him.

He walks right past me, avoiding eye contact once he’s close.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

The image of gooey blood splattered on her face paired with a bewitching smile from the newcomer has Jean Kirstein confused on one side and intrigued on another. Confused because when the Marleyans said that one of their people was delayed back at Marley, he was expecting another male soldier who’s higher ranked, which is why they wanted him here to help out. Intrigued, because now that he knows it’s a woman, he wonders what kind of situation she was put in to create a flawless combat style.

As the moonlight flashes on her face, reflecting the glossy blood and the glimmer of her teeth. She looks incredibly insane and proud of herself for what she’s done.

Taking down six men in five minutes? Jean has never seen that happen before. The most impressive stunt he’s seen pulled off was Captain Levi taking down five Titans in under a minute—a whole other thing if he was to compare the two. It’s not comparable. By far, Captain Levi is the best he’s seen before.

But, still.

The woman lingers in Jean’s mind.

As he walked back to the tent him and Conny were sleeping in, he couldn’t help but wonder about her. The way she made eye contact with him as if she could read his thoughts then and there was sufficient to know that she’s seductively dangerous. Almost as if her sole purpose was to lure Jean in—

“Sorry,” he mumbles incoherently as he bumps into someone.

“Are you okay?” Mikasa asks him.

Jean blinks up at her, escaping his trance. He’s never been the distracted type before.

It’s rare for Mikasa to ask her comrades, it’s often she presses that question towards Eren Yeager. Deep down, Jean wishes Mikasa would be concerned with him the way she was with Eren. He really likes her and wanted to sought out for her ever since he came to know her. Eren took all her time, energy and love, now, Jean remains in the immovable comrade-zone.

He forgets the mesmerising aura Mikasa has that made him fall for her in the first place, “Fine.”

She walks off without another word. All she needed was that little ‘fine’ to let her keep going about her day.

After all, she had to go tend to Eren like she was some servant.

Jean sighs as he enters the tent, lamenting about Mikasa and knowing there’s nothing he can do about her or her so-called duty to Eren. He can’t help his attachment.

He gets ready for bed and the moment him and Conny turn off the lanterns to sleep and darkness fills his sight, the Marleyan soldier comes to mind again. It’s like she cast a spell on him the moment they locked eyes on the dock.

Her smile, he thinks.

It was beautiful amongst the slaughter on her face.

How can one make the wretched so beautiful?

☆

Conny and Jean are in charge of putting away the deliveries the camp receives from the Walls. The cart is full of food, weaponry and other things that would make living here easier.

They’d discussed that the Marleyans should be doing the labour here but Hange countered, arguing that it wouldn’t be right for the cause they were fighting for. Jean agreed—they had a point. They were trying to do good for the world. What would be the point of making Marleyans do all the work when they were fighting for equality?

As time goes on, Conny and Jean become exhausted and settle into the carts themselves.

“I need a drink.” Conny groans, leaning his head back on the cart.

Jean hums in response. The sun was burning their backs as they slaved the day away, barely breaking in between to keep this damn camp going.

“Conny! Jean!”

They lift their heads to see who’s calling their name.

It’s none other than Onyankopon, walking towards them with a great, big smile on him, a wave and a guest in tow. Jean wishes he was as positive as Onyankopon looked right now. He’d be getting through these deliveries in no time.

He looks over at the guest Onyankopon brought along.

Right then and there, chills run down his spine.

There’s no way.

He straightens up effective immediately.

“Wanted to introduce you to someone new!” Onyankopon says as he arrives at their cart, “She arrived last night.”

Jean’s eyes are plastered at the Marleyan soldier, eyes wide, consuming her presence. She’s piercing with caramel tones and charcoal hair, illustrating her humanity. Nonetheless, her eyes tell him something else. There’s a certain depth in them, a void that can suck you in if you look too long.

She steps up.

“Mirabelle.” she states, ample confidence, “Mirabelle Windrider.”

Sultry voice that coats strawberries with chocolate. The woman stares straight into him, taking words right out of his mouth and stomping them on the ground before her. The corners of her lips quirk upwards into a minute smile as if she knows exactly what she just did to him.

“Conny Springer.” Conny responds, “Weren’t you the chick that killed all those soldiers last night?!”

She laughs, “May have been.”

“You were so cool!” Conny continues and Jean would’ve looked at him but he’s currently too occupied with the newcomer, “The way you knocked them all down. Jean and I were talking about you last night! Everyone was.”

“Were you?” Mirabelle’s eyes easily wander to Jean. “Who’s this?”

He has nothing to say. He can’t say anything.

“Cat got your tongue, Jeanie-boy?” Conny calls. “You know staring at a lady is rude!”

Jean will deal with Conny later. Right now, her slightest provocation forces Jean to give her his name. “Jean Kirstein, ma’am.”

“Jean…” she utters and his eyes widen with fear? Anxiety?...desire?

Onyakopon comes into frame and she leans against his arm which she somehow can despite the man’s height. “Ma’am? She look that old to you, boy?”

“N-No! Of course not, just didn’t wanna disrespect her.” Jean blurts out as Mirabelle laughs.

There she goes again with that smile like she likes watching him twitch under her glance.

Onyakopon sighs, looking down at Mirabelle, “At it again?”

“What’s wrong with a little fun, Onya~”

Before he could think about what she meant by that, Onyankopon says to them, “We’ve got to attend some meetings. Hope you gentlemen do well.”

“Bye!” Mirabelle waves at them.

“Bye!” Conny replies.

“...bye.”

When they leave, a sigh leaves Jean. A couple seconds of silence passes them until Conny finally speaks up, “Hot stuff, huh?”

“What?”

“Ma’am.” he mocks.

Jean furrow my brows, “Shut up, Conny.”

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

Paradis Island is a blast.

Besides sleeping inside a tent, I’ve had fun the last couple of days, getting to know the nation’s people and growing the bonds I already have. What Marleyans say about Paradis Island is nowhere near true but honestly, you’d have to have a brain to know that. They’re anything but devils, they’re humans trapped in walls and know nothing of the outside world.

Hange Zoe, Commander of the Scouts, has created a timetable for me this week so it’d make it easier for me to settle in.

How kind of them. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten close to this treatment back in Marley, even as a respected assassin.

The next thing on my schedule is a team building session with none other than Hange Zoe leading it. I’ve done a couple the past few days and it’s my favourite so far—something lighthearted amongst all the tedious soldier work.

As someone who’s not a soldier, the training style is different from what I’m used to. I mean, it is still combat training but it’s coarse, explosive training rather than the elusive, cunning style I’m used to.

When I pull up to the grassy patch a hundred feet from the camp, Hange is waiting with a group of Marleyans and Eldians, animatedly chatting with the group.

That’s one thing I love about Hange so far. They see no difference in our races unlike other members in the camp.

“There she is!” they exclaim as I join the circle, “Our final member.”

“Hello.” I greet everyone, looking around the circle.

I stop almost immediately. Two people over is none other than the starer.

Jean Kirstein’s eyes widens at seeing me join the circle.

There he goes again.

“Now that everyone’s present, today we’ll be playing a fun, little game I’ve conjured up when working with Cadets! Heard you Marleyan soldiers had no fun when in military, so this will be a little refresher.” Hange explains, “Now, sit down, sit down.”

We all do as they say, plopping onto the grassy land.

“This game,” they start, “Is called, ‘two truths, one lie’. It’s just as stated. We will go around the circle, telling two truths and one lie. The point of this game is to decipher the lie through the three statements told. It’s going to help us understand tidbit information about each other and hopefully, bring us closer as a team. Sounds easy enough?”

The group agrees. We take some time to think about our statements before Hange goes first, telling us that they are the example round, “Okay, so I’m the Fourteenth Commander of the Survey Corps, Captain Levi Ackerman is my best friend and I hate Titans.”

“I am not your best friend.” Levi responds indifferently, “That’s the lie.”

Hange chuckles, “Yes, you are, silly.”

Aw.

Levi rolls his eyes, “You’re so obsessed.”

They hit his shoulder, “You’re mean and short, so you’re just as bad.”

He glares right back at them.

“You’re the Fourteenth Commander, that’s the lie!” a Marleyan speaks up.

“No,” I interrupt before they can give away the answer, “It’s that they hate Titans.”

All eyes are on me.

Over the last couple of days, I’ve stayed quiet during team building sessions, only participating when absolutely necessary. No matter how lively I am around the Marleyans, being thrown into a completely new circumstance can make anyone nervous. So, staying quiet and observing is the best way to be until I’m comfortable enough.

Now I’m comfortable enough.

“Yes!” Hange answers, “How did you know, Mirabelle? I don’t remember telling you.”

I purse my lips and look down on my lap, a little embarrassed, “Not directly, but I overheard you telling other Marleyans that you had two Titans called Sawney and Bean. You said you adored them like they were your children. Plus, you don’t seem the type to hate Titans.”

Hange’s eyes light up.

“Sawney and Bean!” they gasp, “Bless them. Can we have a moment of silence for Sawney and Bean—”

“Those asswipe Titans? No.” Levi interrupts, raising an eyebrow, “Get on with the stupid game. I don’t know why you insist on these timewasters.”

“Ugh,” they groan, “This is not a waste of time! Having team building sessions helps people get along and build bonds. Like you care about any of that stuff, grumps!”

“Exactly. I don’t.”

“Okay, so shut your mouth. Don’t listen to this party pooper, guys.” Hange sighs, causing us to laugh, “It’s your turn, Mirabelle. Give us your statements.”

I nod, having my statements ready to go, “I’m left-handed, I’m an assassin back in Marley and—”

“You’re not left-handed.”

It seems as if Jean is confused as to why he spoke so quickly before I finished my statements. I’m confused, too. How did he know that was the lie?

“I’m not?” I ask, trying to throw him off.

He shakes his head, right on the money, “You’re right-handed. I remember the way you held the gun at the Captain on the boat that night. You were in a right-handed stance.”

It takes me a second to digest that.

It was dark that night, how could he have seen my stance?

“Did I get it?” he asks.

I smile at him, genuinely, “Yeah…you did.”

He must’ve really focussed on me on that boat. My heart races a little. To have someone enraptured by me is a feeling I haven’t had in a while.

“Well done, Jean!” Hange compliments, clapping, “Great attention to detail! See, guys. This is the point of the game. It’s to understand each other better, so we can have trusting bonds when in combat.”

Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“You better get your lies ready, Levi,” Hange warns, “You’re after Jean.”

For some reason, Levi looks scared. He is slipped into a trance, probably trying to think of his three statements to tell everyone.

“Go on, Jean,” Hange prompts

I watch Jean think about his statements, scanning the grass below him until he lifts his head, “Alright.”

He looks right at me.

He blocks the eight others around us, part of the game and shoots his statements at me.

It’s a challenge.

“I was forced to become a part of the Survey Corps, my mom makes the best omelettes and my friends call me ‘Horseface’.”

“The first one.” I tell him before anyone can say anything. I don’t think anyone was going to anyways. It was aimed at me. He wants me to get it right, there’s a desperation screaming at me to do so.

He blinks at me, “What? How?”

“I don’t think you’re the type of guy to be forced into the Survey Corps. You probably joined it because it matched your ideals and were willing to go far enough to obtain a goal. In that sense, I think most Scouts are like that anyways…did I get it?”

Jean nods, ever so slowly.

“Yay!” I reply.

An invisible line threads between the two of us, connecting us in the moment. Jean seems lost in thought as if it was the first time he was acknowledged for his decisions.

I’m glad I was able to give him that.

The Scouts in this island deserve that more than anything. The recognition and the pride that comes with it. It’s not an easy job, after all.

We’re looking at each other until Levi speaks up at last, “Get a room, the two of you.”

☆

“Mirabelle, Mirabelle! Wait up!”

I turn around, a running bald boy coming my way.

“Hi. Conny, was it?”

He slams his hands on his knees, catching his breath, “Y-Yes.”

“How can I help you?”

“Are you busy?’ Conny asks.

“Huh?”

“Are you busy at the moment?” he repeats.

What is this about?

“Not particularly, no. Sorry, what’s this about?”

Conny straightens up and grins at me. I try to return it with a boxy grin of my own but all this seems a little suspicious to me.

“Would you like to eat with us?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you like to have lunch with me and a few other Scouts?” Conny invites.

Oh.

“Oh my God. Yes!. I would love to.” I nod enthusiastically,

“Right this way, ma’am.”

“Stop that.” I chuckle.

“I’ve never seen Kirstein act like that in front of a woman,” he says, as I follow him.

So we’re having this conversation?

“Uh-huh.” I reply, trying to stay uninterested.

Giving Conny the wrong impression is the last thing I want to do. Yes, it may be true that Jean caused my heart flutter earlier but that was for a mere moment. I’m not interested in anything except keeping things cool and casual. Imagine if he thinks I’m interested romantically.

That would send the wrong message.

“He’s really a good guy,” Conny continues, “Don’t tell him I said that but he’d take good care of his missus, if he had one.”

“I see.”

“What do you think of him, Mirabelle?”

Did Jean set him up to this?

No, it can’t be. Jean seems like he barely knows that he’s interested in me. Conny, on other hand, as someone who’s on the outside of this situation probably read in between the lines and got a grip on the situation.

“He’s nice.” I reply.

“Nice~” Conny sings, “Anyways, we’re here!”

He’s brought me to behind a tent where a bunch of Scouts are sitting on upside down crates and eating from paper plates.

“Hi!” all of them greet me.

There’s four of them, including Jean, who is just as shocked to see me there as I am him. Oh, what did I expect coming with Conny?

I look at Conny, raising an eyebrow. He just shrugs, nonchalantly. Is he playing wingman right now? There’s nothing to play wingman for!

This is ridiculous.

“Hello.” I wave at them.

“The food’s over there, by the way.” a girl with a high ponytail and a stuffed face says, “You can help yourself!”

“Alright, thanks.”

I grab my lunch at the stand and come back. Jean quickly stands from his crate and gestures for me to sit down.

“Oh, you didn’t have to, I—”

“I already finished eating.” he interrupts, clearing his throat.

It’d be rude to decline so I take the crate, muttering a small word of gratitude.

The crates are assembled in a circle so I can see the new people I’m sitting with. Conny and Jean stand nearby, joining the conversation.

“I’m Mirabelle, by the way—”

“You’re the girl that knocked down those Marleyans a couple days ago, right?” the girl with the ponytails says, “Sasha, nice to meet you.”

“You’re right! It is her.” a blonde boy exclaims.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Sasha answers, “This is Armin and Mikasa. You’ve met Conny and Jean?”

I look up at Jean and smile a little, “I have…it’s nice to meet you all.”

And the questions come instantly.

“How did you kill them all?”

“Are you a soldier? You’re not wearing a uniform.”

“How do you get your hair like that?”

“How come you came in later compared to other Marleyans?”

“Hey.” Jean interrupts the eager Scouts, “Let her eat before you talk her ears off.”

“That’s okay, Jean.” I laugh, “Let’s see,” deep breath “I’ve been trained to kill multiple people simultaneously. I’m not a soldier, I’m an assassin. My hair? Well, it’s this product I got from Marley. Totally cannot live without. I can share it with you if you like. I came late because I accidentally slept in when Onyankopon was leaving so I ended up having to find my own way here.”

They stare at me in awe.

“Any more questions?” I ask.

Shaking their heads, they go back to their food.

☆

“That’s the thing, Onyankopon. I don’t want to be trained like a soldier!” I whine behind him, “My combat style is already flawless and the way the soldiers train is so rough and not adequate for a nimble girl like me.”

“That’s a conversation for you to have with Hange, not me.” he replies.

It seems that Onyankopon doesn’t grasp my joke like he usually does. His lightheartedness and otherwise bubbly attitude has gone out of trace and is replaced with someone serious and, well, not so Onyankopon.

I slide off the horse we arrived on together as it stops before the Walls.

“Mhm, right and you know I’ll convince them anyway.” I say, attempting to bring my best friend out.

It’s not about the training anymore, it’s about making Onyankopon smile again. I miss that cheesy grin of his already and it’s been, what? Twenty-hours of this gloominess that has gone by?

“I doubt that but you can try. No one’s stopping you.” he shrugs, “Now that I’ve dropped you here, may I please go attend to my business in Wall Sina?”

“If I say ‘no’—”

“Goodbye.” he says and I think he’s about to go before he make a face and looks back at me, “Also, don’t play too much around the Kirstein boy.”

Ah.

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask him innocently, patting the horse’s mane. She has lovely hair indeed, the embrace of rich earth.

Unfortunately, Onyankopon has turned to ultimately-serious-bossman mode. He sighs, “You know what I mean.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having fun, Onyankopon. You should have some fun these days.”

“It’s not fun to be put in that position, Mirabelle. They actually have a word for that.” he says, whipping the reins on the horse.

It moves forward, forcing me to jump back with a gasp.

I cup my hands over my mouth and yell, “What’s that?!”

“Torture!”

“Who’s got his panties in a twist?” I ask myself, watching Mr Grim Reaper himself head off into the gates of Shiganshina.

My stomach twists with unease. He makes it sound like I’m going to cause pain to Jean when that’s nowhere near what I want to do. It doesn’t hurt anyone to flirt and play around a little without any strings attached. At least that’s what it’s like back in Marley.

I could do it as much as I want, until—

“I-I’m not sure.” a voice comes from behind me.

Jean.

“Oh, hi!” I greet him and point in the direction of the gone man, “Did you hear that conversation by any chance?”

He shakes his head, “Just what you said at the end. Onyankopon seems a little grim.”

“Yeah, I think the meetings are getting to his head.” I answer, admiring Jean from below.

Up close, the guy’s big, tall and broad simultaneously. He has slender eyes paired with long, thin eyebrows which exudes a feminine aura amongst the straight nose and frowned mouth. Additional to that, there are those pretty, long lashes that cave his eyes; every fluttering blink is one alike to a lovely maiden. He’s quite handsome though, a gentlemanly handsome that is difficult to find within this field of work.

“I can imagine.” he says.

It appears he's curious about why I'm staring at him. He doesn’t back down or look away from me, he stares back this time.

So he’s not the nervous wreck I thought he was?

“I thought Hange was training me…” I say, peering behind his shoulder to see no zealous Hange running around, ready to train me.

“About that.” he sighs, “Commander’s gone to a meeting so she told me to train you instead and she sends her regards. I’m gonna be showing you how to use the ODM Gear, hoping that’s okay.”

“Huh…” I respond inquisitively and before I can stop myself, my hands are touching the cool rectangles on his hips. The technology here is definitely a lot more advanced than what I was expecting. It’s so…wait, “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

I can see the alarms going off in his head.

“I don’t know.”

Has a woman never touched him before?

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, “I—”

“Jean.” I utter, holding his shoulders in my hands. He tenses up immediately, answering my question right away, “You’re gonna train me just fine. Don’t be scared. Is this your first time?”

Both of us know the real reason why he’s shaking in his boots; however, neither of us can say the reason aloud.

“My-my first time?”

“First time training someone?” I clarify with a small giggle.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then, let’s go! Where’s the equipment?”

Jean brings me closer to the Walls. A green crate is loaded with ODM Gear equipment, including the gas cylinders, blades and harnesses. After putting on the various different equipment and being safely strapped up, Jean demonstrates how to use it.

“Your turn.” he prompts me.

“Okay.”

“So, you have to—”

I press the triggers, aiming high enough on the Wall and the gear yanks me up forcefully. I gasp, thinking I’m going to smash my face on the wall but I manage to plant my feet on the Wall, keeping my stance light on the surface.

“Like that?” I ask Jean, looking down at him.

He’s about twenty feet away from me, eyes widened to the brim, “T-That’s perfect! Can you get down?”

I do the same thing backwards and climb down the wall to meet him again.

“How?” Jean asks, his eyes glistening with admiration.

I pull back the strings and they snap into the contraption they come from. I laugh, “I don’t know! But that was really fun! Kinda like rock climbing.”

“Rock climbing…?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.

I forget how underdeveloped it is compared to Marley.

“It’s like a…sport, I think? People climb up rocks or walls using their hands and feet and there are these things that stick out that you use to push yourself up and climb up.” I explain, “I used to have to do rock climbing for training. It’s fun!”

He nods slowly, understanding the concept of it, “That does sounds fun.”

“When we go to Marley together, I can show you!” I tell him.

“Together?”

I want to bite my tongue.

“Not just the two of us! With everyone!” I declare, “Sasha, Conny, Armin, Mikasa, damn, even Captain Levi could climb.”

For the first time in my presence, Jean Kirstein slips out a genuine chuckle. Like he means it. There’s no nervousness exuding from him, rather the enjoyment of my presence.

“For sure, but I can’t get over how quick you grasped that. It’s not easy.” Jean replies, raising an eyebrow, “You’re good.”

I lean in slightly, dropping my voice a little, “I’m good at a lot of things, Jean…”

Just like that, the friendly air vanishes into the ether and is replaced with a drop of suggestion.

Jean freezes, dissecting my words before his cheeks turn red.

“Aw, look at you!” I point right in his face, “You’re blushing like crazy!”

“Am not!” he argues, quite defensively, “I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“You are!” I laugh, finding his coyness amusing.

What’s the point of not admitting it when I watched him come to an understanding on what I just said?

“Whatever,” he huffs and points back at the Wall, “Let’s keep training.”

I can’t stop laughing at him.

“It’s not that funny.”

☆

“Wanna go to the Marleyan restaurant in Wall Rose?” Sasha asks the group.

“Of course you wanna go there.” Conny remarks, suggestion glinting in his eyes.

She hits him on the shoulder, red creeping onto the apple of her cheeks.

I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what’s going on with that comment. I don’t question it too much, fatigued from the combat training we just came from.

To no avail, Hange highly suggested that I join combat training on the island, despite me being a combat virtuoso. They said, although my combat is adequate, there’s always room for improvement and practising on different targets would do me more good than worse.

I couldn’t argue with them there.

However, I thought I had it in the bag and could convince them otherwise, that’s what put me down, not the training itself. I always thought of myself as a finesser but I guess Hange is just way too smart to finesse.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Jean appears beside me, peering down with a cautious look on his face.

I nod, “Just a little tired.”

“I see.” he answers, “Combat training can be tiring around here.”

“Mhm.”

“Stop flirting with Mirabelle and tell us what you wanna do, Jean!” Eren exclaims, playfully punching Jean on the shoulder, “Do you wanna go to Wall Rose?”

Jean shoves him out the way, “Get out of my face, asshole…and as for the restaurant, I don’t think we should go. Everyone’s tired. We gotta go all the way to Wall Rose to eat?”

“Yeah!” Sasha exclaims.

“You just wanna see—”

Sasha slaps her hand to Conny’s mouth instantly, “Shut your ass up. Wanna come, Mimi?”

“For sure. I don’t have anything for the rest of the day either.” I tell her.

“Are you sure?” Jean asks me, “I thought you’re tired.”

“She just said she wants to go!” Conny argues, gesturing both his hands at me flamboyantly

“I’m not asking you.” Jean replies and looks back at me, waiting for an answer.

I break into laughter, “I’m fine with it, really, but a Marleyan restaurant? Didn’t know you guys would have those ‘round here.”

“Best food I’ve ever had.” Mikasa speaks up indifferently.

Everyone hums in agreement at her statement.

The last time I’ve seen people react like that towards food was when—

“Let’s catch the carriage before it leaves for the Walls!”

We run towards the carriages stationed at the exit of the camp, climbing into whichever ones were accessible to us first. I end up in the last carriages, not wanting to get in between Conny and Eren fighting to see which one would go into the first carriage. Jean follows me into the third and final carriage, presumably for the same reason.

“Have they all gone in the other carriages?” Jean questions, peeking his head out of the carriage.

“Seems like it.”

After a subtle neigh at the front, the velvety carriage starts moving. It renders me silent for a second as I try to comprehend what’s happening.

No one else is in the carriage with us. I’m going to be going to the Walls with Jean alone. I’ll have forty-five minutes of him to myself.

“I have to say,” Jean begins, five minutes into the ride, “The way you killed those soldiers when you first came…it was amazing.”

I cross my leg over the other, slinking them back to me as I lean back, “You think so?”

Jean nods vigorously, “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

“I could tell.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

I take a trip down memory lane to the night before, re-imagining the look plastered on his face—the innocent intrigue and the shimmer of moonlight that swam in his light eyes. I can’t forget how he couldn’t take his eyes off of me, either. I felt so formidable in the moment.

“You seemed really curious,” I answer mildly. Offering a wry smile, I add, “It was cute.”

“Cute?!”

“Cute.” I repeat.

“Cute is not the word to describe me.” Jean retorts.

“Oh, yeah? Then, what are you?”

He rubs his chin, actually thinking about it.

I don’t know what starts it.

It must be the way his damn hair.

It falls in a way that looks incredible, it looks styled with a vehemence of boyishness. A

A sheen layer of sweat on his face, more visible when he looks to the side and the sun hits his face and rolled up sleeves to the elbow because of how hot it is out there. I've been trying to ignore it during combat but now, it’s making me squirm in my seat.

I think back to how he flung Eren to the ground as if he was just nothing to him, barely a sack of potatoes.

He’s so strong…I wonder if he can read my thoughts or I wonder if he can see how a pool of heat travels down to my womanhood and settles there like it’s its new home.

If he knew, would he let me take him right there?

“More like…handsome?”

Jean’s eyes sparkle again as he looks back at me—the same look in his face.

He has no fucking idea what he does to me.

I lean forward, arousal sticking to my clit as I mouth, “I’ll tell you what you are, Jean…”

“What’s that?” he asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

He must think I’m joking around.

“I think you’re sexy.”

The tension in his jaw slacks, “W-What? I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain it to you.” I reply and reach out to touch a finger to his knee, drawing erratic patterns on it. He tenses up as expected and it goes quiet for a second. All I can hear is the wheels of the carriage pulling us forward and the slight breeze that enters the carriage, sending a chill down my spine.

“There’s a drive in you that I’m attracted to. Your provider mindset, for one, tells me that you bring what is important to the table and you think about others before yourself. But you do it in a way that’s not showy, it’s just who you are. And, when you like someone, you really dedicate yourself to them. The way you think about those you like is only out of love. And, my favourite,” I ease back onto my cushioned seat, the silence from him being the loudest thing in this carriage, “How you lose all power when you look at me.”

The Big Jean makes himself small in his seat.

“I’m sorry.” he almost whispers.

“Sorry? Shouldn’t you be saying ‘thank you’? I just complimented you!”

“Thank you.” he breathes out as if there’s no oxygen in here. He peers at his lap before he looks up, brow furrowed and uncertain, “I think you’re incredible too, by the way. Ever since I saw you defeat those soldiers, I—”

The carriage comes to a halt.

“Huh?”

We exchange a confused glance.

I peer outside the carriage. The carriage in front of us opens their door and out comes Sasha and Connny. They come into our carriage and get settled in here.

“What’s going on?” Jean asks disappointedly.

I nearly chortle at the tone in his voice.

“Sorry, Eren started blabbering about freedom.” Sasha replies, getting comfortable next to me, “I couldn’t stand another second of it.”

“He doesn’t get it. No one wants to listen to the same speech again and again.” Conny sighs, sitting next to Jean. He looks between Jean and me, “Bro, you’re like proper sweating. Maybe we shouldn’t have left you here alone with Mirabelle. What have you done with him?”

I laugh at his accusatory tone, “We were just talking.”

“Talking? Jean’s cooking in his clothes.”

“Shut up!” Jean says, pushing him away from him.

Jean casually throws one leg on top of the other.

It’s only when I look closer I see something peek up at me.

He catches me looking and changes the way he sits so it’s less obvious.

Little did he know, I’ve seen those countless times and it only takes time before one explodes.

☆

“Where’s Jeanie-boy gone?” Conny pipes up when we’re seated in the restaurant.

There are massive fans all around the dining area, cooling us down.

“I think he’s in the bathroom.” I answer casually as I look at the menu in front of me.

The restaurant is by far the most luxurious thing I’ve seen on this island. That’s saying a lot as someone who takes frequent strolls in Sina to attend meetings here and there. It looks somewhat familiar too, in the sense of the vibes.

“He takin’ a shit or something?” Conny remarks, causing the others to laugh.

Conny doesn’t know why he’s in the bathroom. I do. I just keep it quiet.

“What’s the best thing they do here?” I ask Mikasa who happens to be sitting next to me.

“I heard they do the lobsters best—”

It clicks right there and then.

“Hello, everyone. What are you…Mirabelle?!”

I dread it.

I dread it so bad, a morbid anguish blossoming inside me as I blink up.

In front of me is none other than Niccolo.

My ex.

JEAN KIRSTEIN POV

Jean doesn’t like how eloquent Mirabelle is.

Her lips move so languidly yet, manages to say everything it needs to within a short time. The way she talked to him in the carriage somehow undid him and his pants. Being stuck in a restaurant bathroom where the walls are paper thin and trying to release the pent up was more than a mere struggle.

He’s like a putty in her hands, moulded and crafted for her to use.

“You make me feel powerful” she had told him.

He hates how, for once, he cannot control what’s happening in his body. It’s like she’s found his weak spot and is stepping into it. It makes him feel powerless—nothing but prey in her eyes.

After the Marleyan restaurant and the ride home, his friends wondered what was wrong with Jean, why their constant teasing wouldn’t rile him up like it usually would.

Even when Jean slips under his covers at night, he thinks about how Mirabelle spoke to him. Her voice had an effect, she had an effect on him that he couldn’t recover from.

But he couldn’t let himself fall for her.

No way.

That was a death wish.

He would put a lock on his cock before he imagined how her hands would feel tugging on his hair. Or, maybe how she would sound when he pushes into her. How about how she’d feel clenched around him, all wet and tight for him?

“Fuck!” Jean shouts, sitting up in his bed.

“What the hell, man?!” Conny yells back, equally as frustrated. He sits up, flicking on his lantern, “What’s wrong with your ass?”

“Nothing,” Jean grumbles, getting out of bed, “I’m going out.”

“Where are you going, baby?” Conny asks, softening his voice, “Come on here now. Don’t leave a damsel like me in bed all alone!”

Conny makes what is a horrible attempt of a woman moaning. However, it didn’t matter if it was horrible. Jean had had it. Anything remotely sexual was going to have a horrible impact on him. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, he just knows it’s going to be bad.

He has to get out.

Outside the tent is a new world. He switches on his flashlight to guide him through the darkness to a place where he can unwind. Hopefully, a serene place where he can collect himself for a second and review what’s happening right now; somewhere with no commotion, just the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Like the rocky pools a few hundred metres from here.

He’d accidentally discovered it on a walk a while back. Whenever Jean needed to run away for a while, he’d go there. It's been his designated spot.

He walks around the tents, strictly divided between the males, females and the leaders of the place.

Some lanterns still shone despite it being past two am.

There were soldiers still planning how to defeat the enemy, coming up with constructive plans and discussing them until dawn. Hange, Levi and Yelena are likely to be awake to be a part of these discussions. They’re saving humanity, meanwhile, Jean had his head wrapped around some woman like a little boy.

Speaking of the devil, Yelena walks right up to him.

“Kirstein, is it?” she asks, getting a good look at his face in the dark, “What are you doing awake?”

Yelena’s comrade has shaken up his mind and he had to go on a fucking walk to clear his head. Obviously, Jean couldn’t tell her that.

“Just walking around.” he grumbles.

“Strange,” she notes with a subtle nod that Jean’s not sure the meaning of. Yelena is a woman of little words and sometimes those words don’t make sense, “Anyways, could you do me a favour?”

“Sure.” he accepts before thinking over it.

Jean would do anything right now to rid his mind off anything from Mirabelle. He could go to the rocky pools after completing the delegated task.

“I have tons of things to do right now and need someone to assist me. Could you fetch Mirabelle from her tent?” she asks, “I doubt she’s asleep at this hour and I could really use a hand…Kirstein?”

He cannot escape her.

She’s everywhere, at all times, consuming his every thought and circumstance and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Jean sighs in defeat.

“Is there a problem?” Yelena probes.

He will die if he’s asked another question.

Shaking his head, he replies, “I’ll go get her. Where’s her tent?”

“It should be the one that’s the top left corner.” she relays, “Tell her to come to the meeting tent.”

“Okay.”

Yelena walks off the other way.

It takes everything in Jean not to explode right there and then.

He takes as much of his frustration out on a nearby pebble, kicking it away, simultaneously being aware that there are people sleeping in the tents surrounding him.

What did he do to deserve this? This is torture, absolutely torture and he wouldn’t wish this on his biggest enemy. As if there weren't already enough problems with planning an attack on Marley, Mirabelle had to make his life miserable.

What should he do?

Oh, but she is so pretty.

Where should he run to and scream?

I want to get to know her more.

He can’t have a full mental breakdown even if he wanted to.

He’s not one for mental breakdown but this…this was a different cause.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

It’s all wrong.

He refuses to back down.

In fact, he refuses to submit to her womanly wiles.

Jean is a strong guy, scratch that!

Jean is a strong man with a strong will and numerous strongly built morals. No woman can control him like he’s her personal toy just like that. He is not easily swooned or influenced by anyone. As it happens, he is guarded.

Who is she to him?

No one.

Exactly.

He will go to Mirabelle right this moment and act as if she had no effect on him!

Yes, there we go.

That’s the Jean he knew. Arrogant, reckless and the daredevil.

Off he goes, towards the ladies side of the camp.

As he makes his way, he can’t lie, his heart is clutched in a fist.

It’s the remaining effects of Mirabelle scouring his tainted mind. It’ll take time for her to be removed from his brain but time was all that was needed.

If not, a lobotomy will do and who better than Hange to perform it? It’s a joke, that’s a joke, right? Jean forces his thoughts to still. He had to do a task first and he needed his full concentration to complete it. He doesn’t have time to waste.

As he inches to the tent Yelena described, he notices that Mirabelle’s lantern is one of the only ones that are turned on this late into the night.

She’s one of the campers that got lucky enough to have a tent to themselves. There could be a specific reason why. He softens a little, wondering what she could be doing up so late.

Maybe she had trauma-induced insomnia and she couldn’t sleep? What if she needed someone to be by her side right now?

No, stop.

He’s going to march in there, deliver a message, leave and assert the dominance that she took from him.

That is until he sees something strange.

Two pairs of shoes scattered outside the tent, thrown as if they’d been discarded in a hurry. The tent entrance itself is slightly open. Warm light peeks through like a tease.

It beckons him to get a look at what he can through the tear of the tent…and halts in place.

“F-Fuck, yes~! Right there, right there…” she breathes out, “Nngh~”

Jean’s mouth runs dry.

“You’re doing so good.” a man says, his voice low and muffled.

Jean is about to pass out.

It could be a mistake.

Maybe he’s seeing something wrong?

Upon closer inspection tells him otherwise.

A man kneels between Mirabelle’s parted legs. He hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer to his mouth, humming against her. Piercing his nails into the fat of her skin, demonstrating for anyone watching (Jean) that she is his.

The soft amber lanterns catch her breasts in the perfect angle, sitting beautifully on her chest. Of course he’s seen the anatomical body of a woman but like this? Never in a million years would Jean think he would see it tonight.

Mirabelle grabs his unruly blonde hair, pursing her lips. Her eyes flutter shut as she tilts her head back, the curve of her body arching, abdomen meeting the man’s forehead as she pushes him in harder. A desperate cry leaves her. It’s so velvety that Jean couldn’t believe it was her making those noises.

He shouldn’t be looking.

This is wrong of him.

Very wrong.

Jean is not a man, he is not moral, not strong-willed, not anything he wanted to be tonight.

As he’s about to turn away from the scene, seconds after accidentally looking in, Mirabelle’s head comes forward and her eyes lock with his.

It’s fueled with intensity. The golden flicker of the light takes a dip in her deliberate gaze. Instead of shock, all he sees is dark, wicked amusement plastered on her face like she’s won an award. She lets him watch, lets him bear witness to her, body moving with slow, languid precision, as though the very act of being observed excites her more. She doesn’t flinch or hesitate, she. Gets. Bolder.

She smirks before tipping her head back and putting on the performance of her life, “Yes, Niccolo! I’m close, I’m so fucking close, baby—I’m gonna, ah~!”

Jean runs.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, he just knows that he has to get the fuck out of here.

Dashing through the dirty paths of the camp, it’s like his lungs want to jump out of his body. He’s in flight mode

“Jean?! Where are you going?!” Yelena shouts at him.

“Don’t go to Mirabelle’s tent!” he warns her

She cackles as he sprints away.

Had she known? If she had, why the hell would she make him go? He should’ve stayed in his room with damsel Conny!

After a couple minutes of running, he arrives at the rocky pools.

Far enough.

Far enough, physically.

Mentally? Never.

He leans against a rock, much taller and sturdier than he is. It’s been a while since he had to break into a full sprint like that. He never imagined catching people fucking would be the cause of it.

He places his head on the rock, sweat dripping down his face and a situation to handle.

A rock hard cock under his pyjama pants.

Jean’s heart is racing like crazy and he grabs his clamouring chest, gulping nothing but dryness down his throat. On the other hand, his cock throbs with unease. He needs to get off. His morals tell him no.

Fact of the matter, he doesn’t really have a choice in this.

Mirabelle’s face floats into his mind, her moans, her breasts…

Jean groans, sliding down the rock and hitting the hard ground with a thump.

He is so verily screwed.

He is screwed in a way that he’s never been screwed before and will probably never be screwed the way he is screwed now.

He has to do what he has to do.

Jean brings out his cock from his pants. Why wouldn’t his mind just match with his dick? What is the pain in that? He wonders, is there some part of him…a truly, screwed up, primal side of him that likes the way he’s being treated?

Does he like her having him in control?

Is he a…cuck for watching them like that?!

No, no, I can’t be. Not that.

It’s her.

It’s her long, black hair cascading in waves down her back. She tucks it behind her ear mid-conversation, focused on what the other person says. She nods, smiles and a little physical contact; usually, it’s a pat on the back or a playful hit on the shoulder.

Her skin is a soft radiance, captured by the core of the sun's embrace and light of the moon’s spirit.

Her laugh is a high-pitched melody and sounds like she’s being possessed by a banshee half the time. Nevertheless, seeing the corners of her lips perk up at something he said makes Jean swelter.

And, her body.

God, her body.

A divine sculpture—the ridges of her collarbone, the angle of her rounded shoulders and the curve of her waist; he thumbs the tip of his cock.

He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t stop himself from wanting her.

He wants to kiss her everywhere, appreciate her for existing as she is. She’s like nothing he’s seen before in a woman and there’s nothing more he’d want than to be a part of her world.

A low moan escapes his lips.

Jean’s hand travels down the shaft of his cock, pumping it slowly. Precum slips through the crack of his palm, lubricating him.

The throbbing takes a second to ease into his hand. As uneasiness turns into pleasure, the breeze waves into his face, washing over him.

Jean needs more.

He imagines her here.

He imagines her warmth.

He imagines her asking him how he got into this mess and asking him if he’d like her to take care of him. She looks up at him, sinister eyes and a grin he cannot fully comprehend. It’s in the middle of adorably charming and shit-eating. He tells her ‘yes’ with a shaky breath.

She takes his cock in her hand.

She spits on his tip, expertly bringing it down. Because Jean knows she knows how to treat his cock.

Her lips meet his in an embrace, traces of the strawberry jam she always buys from the market, a saccharine overload in his mouth. That woman has a knack for sweet things, it’s a bad habit at this point.

So is this.

“Shit—” Jean moans, biting his bottom lip.

He closes his eyes, a black screen providing a blank canvas for painting the horrid things he desires. No one’s going to be roaming here at this time. He’s free to do whatever he wants.

Then, Mirabelle climbs on top of him, her hands holding onto the blades of his shoulder like they did when he was teaching her how to use the ODM Gear. That slight squeeze and stability that she gave him was enough to send shivers down his spine.

She sinks down onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She grabs his hair, tugs it back just enough for Jean to let out another moan. He puts his face into her chest, hugging his arms around her whole body. There would be no sign of letting go anytime soon. He’d keep her to his body. He would want to stay inside her as long as possible, to keep that connection as long as possible. Because if it ended, Jean would have a missing heart and a half.

Mirabelle would ride him. She bucks her hips and mewl in his ear, making it tingle. She tantalises him, softens him and bullies him. She knows how bad he wants her.

Jean would feel so fucking full inside of her and she’d be so tight around him. Her walls surround his cock so tightly, he’s lucky he doesn’t have to breathe from down there.

He pumps his cock harder, his hips coming up to meet his fist’s demand and finally, he releases.

Strings of white fly out as Jean lets go of himself, falling back on the trusty rock that was able to support him through all this.

His sight blurs as he peers at the cloudless sky. A billion stars just watched him pathetically imagine a girl and masturbate to it.

It’s okay if he was pathetic.

He can be fucking pathetic for her.

What mattered more was that he wishes she was actually here doing all that to him.

☆

Jean hasn’t recovered.

When he’s seated at the Marleyan restaurant the next afternoon alone, there’s an air of gloom. He has no idea what to do now.

He hasn’t had much to do today, but his friends were piled with heaps to do. There wasn’t room for distraction.

According to Hange, they like to give soldiers rest days so they could reset and have an actual break. They said that it’s better for them to be different from his friends. The reason being that people need breaks from people too.

Levi full disagreed with the whole concept but Hange said it was especially for Levi since his tolerance for people was at a negative. He couldn’t argue with that.

It just so happens that today is Jean’s break day and he was stuck in the Marleyan restaurant before opening (soldier benefits), eating a meal alone.

Was it bad to come to the place where Niccolo works? Maybe. But he’s sure Mirabelle won’t turn up here. She has a hundred MP meetings to attend to.

She simply has no business here.

He had successfully avoided her the whole day. He will continue to do so as a means to escape thinking about whatever the fuck happened last night.

The Devil herself had slithered into his dreams last night. This was after he caught Mirabelle and went to fist his cock by the pools. He woke up rock hard—no pun intended.

You can imagine how scrambled his mind, heart and dick are right now.

Jean was extremely lucky that Conny sleeps like a log or else he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of that. What if it got to Mirabelle?

Double kill.

Anyways, he had avoided her the whole day and treating himself during the restaurant’s close before dinner openings was the best way to go about his day. If he stayed in his tent the whole day, he would’ve gone crazy.

He may have done something he wasn’t supposed to.

Although there aren’t any chefs running around (they gotta take breaks too!), he’s able to control himself in a public space. There was that to applaud amongst this mess.

“Well, well, well,” someone says from behind him, lightly stroking his back, “If it isn’t Peeping Tom.”

Jean freezes against the touch. Time itself stops.

She swivels around to meet his face, fingers still on his back.

He isn’t imagining her here, this isn’t a dream, she’s really here.

Jean chokes on his lobster. So hard that he doubles over his plate.

“Oh no, you poor thing.” she utters.

Mirabelle grabs the jug of water, pours it into Jean’s empty glass. He reaches out to take it from her. She doesn’t meet him halfway. Instead, she drinks the water.

Jean gulps down the cough and stares at her.

She laughs, “Here. Drink it.”

Mirabelle presses the glass against his lips.

Jean’s on autopilot, he tilts his head back and lets her feed him the drink.

Then, she sets the drink down and stares at him a second too long.

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, how to process this and he can feel himself slowly getting hard again.

She’s done nothing, absolutely nothing and he’s wordlessly done for.

She reaches out and cups one side of his face, wiping a stray water drop from his face.

She punctures into his gaze and every wall he tries to set up for himself. It turns into paper and finds his real self, putting it up for display.

“Such a pretty face.” she mumbles.

And then, before you know it, she drops his face and leaves the restaurant.

MIRABELLE WINDRIDER POV

“That’s absolutely outrageous!” Onyankopon cries, shooting up from his seat. He slams his hands on the table for effect.

I roll my eyes for what must be the hundredth time and yank him from the back of his blazer. He falls flatly on his armchair. The stress lines on his forehead aged him by twenty years.

The meeting room is silent but the faces of the MPs are tumultuous with worry. It’s not every day the Onyankopon breaks out in a frenzy. He’s easygoing for the most part.

I wish I could tell you why he burst out. Unfortunately, I’ve lost track of what the meeting was about. It’s some minute detail in the overarching plan.

When I agreed to go to all these boring meetings, what I’d been doing was dragging his ass back down and mediating the arguments that were happening. I’m only here for his comfort and support of these meetings.

I’m a perfect middleman.

I have to say, Paradis Island makes compelling insights. Yelena and Onyankopon do too. However, being the middleman, I have to take in consideration what is the best and causes the least harm and sometimes, both sides don’t seem to consider this as an option.

I appreciate my comrades for their work ethics. They’re more than comrades, they’re friends and if this makes their lives easier here in the meeting rooms, I’ll do it.

“Let’s take a break and resume later.” Pyxis instructs at last, “We need it.”

There’s no arguing there.

Everyone scours from the room, leaving Onyankopon and I alone.

“Can I bring you some water?” I ask gently.

The man is looking at his lap blankly.

Finally, he sighs, “No thank you. I would like to be left alone though. If that’s okay.”

“Sure.” I reply, standing up, “Collect your thoughts and we can talk again before the meeting. I’ll go take a breather too.”

“Okay.” he responds dryly.

I start heading towards the door.

“Mirabelle.” Onyankopon calls.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, ” he tells me, “I appreciate that.”

I smile, “Love you.”

“...love you too.”

Leaving the room, I head down many flights of stairs of the Mitras’ parliament building. I bid my respects to Queen Historia, who is visiting for a council meeting of her own and step out into the chilly night air.

There’s something about today’s air that makes it so special. The wind flirts with my hair, winding its way through the seams of my clothing.

To think this meeting was going to take my whole day? I was not expecting that.

I do hope Onyankopon is alright though. This is a lot of stress for one person to take. I want to help my friends. The only way I can do that is take on more, study more and morph into a soldier. There’s only so much the Marleyans can do here with our restrictions and such.

At least Paradis has a whole army, we’re on our own out here. I don’t know what’s going on half the time. I’m here because I hate Marley and this was a chance to go against them.

I’ve seen enough to prove that it is not an adequate place to live in. Especially as someone who worked close to politicians. Greed, hatred and sin, committed again and again with no remorse entailing their actions.

That’s not what I want to be a part of.

Assassination used to be a way to make money as someone coming from a low-income family and had to survive. I had to kill to survive—isn’t that ironic?

It’s time for me to put that behind me and turn a new leaf.

There is real happiness rooted in this island.

Coming here, I’ve realised the difference.

I’ve met it through my new friends, new life and…Jean.

“Mirabelle.”

I swivel around.

It is no one but him.

He’s standing under a streetlight like a full force manifestation of my thoughts. Slightly perplexed, a little untidy from the day’s labour but all in all, Jean.

“I was just thinking about you.”

The way we meet these days is starting to not come off as surprises anymore. It’s almost as if there’s this small part of myself that expects him there.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. What are you doing here?”

“I…” he begins and drops his head, deeming the stoned ground more interesting than me, “I was just finishing up here, I was about to head back, actually.”

“Hm, must be fate,” I say, linking my arm around his. He flinches, “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” he answers, a little more confidently than I know he’s feeling right now.

A simple touch must break his insides indefinitely. So I innocently smile, squeezing his arm closer to my face. His arm is tough and plush at the same time, telling me that there’s a good amount of muscle but soft enough for a lady to lay her cheek on.

“Shall we?” I ask, nodding towards the empty street, “I don’t have much time.”

“Okay.”

We walk down the moonlit street in Wall Sina.

I can feel tension in Jean’s strides. Every step that hits the ground is rough and not fully taken before he takes the other one. He’s not walking fast but there’s an impatience to the way he does this time around.

He doesn’t walk like this—he usually takes confident, full steps. It’s enough to tell me he’s still awkward from that.

It’s been a few days since Jean walked in on me and Niccolo.

Jean’s presence was nothing out of the ordinary. It was right for him to be there, to watch me and wish it was him that was between my legs like that.

I, for one, do wish that.

Since he zeroed in on me like that, I’ve never wanted anything more.

I’d take it so slow, nice and slow, fuck into him until he eases into my body and can take over. There’s nothing hotter than a man who lets me take the lead in the bedroom.

Niccolo doesn’t do that.

He’s controlling, demanding and can barely make me cum.

I have to clear this up with Jean first.

I don’t want this to get in between us.

It could start something new though…

“About that night.” I say as we stop under a streetlight, “Niccolo and I aren’t together. Like, at all. He’s an ex.”

It flickers, a constant struggle to seize the light, only for it to evade at every attempt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to walk into you and him. Yelena wanted me to get you—”

“No.” I interrupt firmly, “I know you like me and you liked what you saw.”

He unwinds his arm from mine, looking anywhere but at my face.

“I—”

He slowly backs up.

“You’ve felt that way from the start.” I continue, walking towards him, “It’s written all over your face. On the first night, in the carriage, when you walked in on me and, look, even now. Why can’t you just admit it?”

He hits the pillar of some desolate luxury motel, broad shoulders taking up the entire distance of it. Despite that, there’s this deniance furrowing in his eyebrows that I’m slowly starting to dislike. It was cute at the start but I need him to own up to it, own up to it like a man.

“...Mirabelle.”

What bullshit.

“Jean.” I state, looking up at him, “I want to fuck you so bad that it hurts.”

Like magic, the streetlight turns on. A gentle buzz maintains as I search his face. Red blossoms on his cheekbones but no words draw from his mouth.

“There you are, Mirabelle!” someone calls me.

Pyxis is in the distance, waving at me, “We oughta get going. The meeting is resuming soon.”

Talk about horrible timing.

“Right behind ya, baldie.” I reciprocate his wave.

Pyxis walks back towards the building and I turn back at Jean one last time.

One last chance…and…nothing.

I give up.

“Coming, Mirabelle:?” Pyxis calls.

“Yes!”

I walk away from what could have been.

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v1ctor1asecretangel · 2 months ago

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Haunted

james patrick march x reader

song i recommend listening to: dead to me by melanie martinez

warnings: isolation, cheating, toxic relationships, emotional distress, murder, violence, intent to kill, obsession, psychological trauma, angst, haunting

word count: 2.1k

notes: oh my god i need james so bad (also writes a fic about killing him) BUT ANYWAY. hes so baddie. everyone seems to be on the james brainrot and so am i so here ya go!

The rain was unrelenting that night, a downpour that blurred the city outside the towering windows of the Hotel Cortez. The air inside the suite was damp and heavy, clinging to your skin as if the walls themselves were aware of what you had learned. In the glow of the low lights, your gaze fell to the delicate silver bracelet around your wrist. The one he’d given you on your wedding night. You remembered his hands fastening it around you, a token of his love, he’d said. A lie. Like so much else.

Now, the image of her haunted you. The Countess. Ger otherworldly beauty, her crimson lips and ice-cold eyes. She had him now, stolen what had once belonged to you, and he had let her.

You turned at the sound of the door creaking open, his figure filling the doorway. James Patrick March, dressed to perfection as always, his tailored suit fitting like a second skin. He stepped in casually, his gaze finding you with slight amusement.

“My dearest,” he drawled, his voice smooth as dark silk. “You look positively… haunted.”

He knew. He knew, and he was reveling in it. Rage twisted within you, but you forced yourself to speak, each word measured. “Tell me, James…how long have you been with her?”

He sighed, stepping into the room with his hands folded behind his back, a picture of unbothered elegance. “My dear, whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t pretend with me,” you said sharply, fists clenching as you felt the weight of his betrayal pressing against your chest. “I found her scarf. I know it was hers, I could still smell her perfume on it. So, tell me…did you ever love me? Or was I just another acquisition, another project for you to mold to your liking?”

James’s smirk remained, though something darker sparked in his eyes. “Love, my dear? Is that what you seek from a man like me? Love is a fickle, fleeting thing. You should know better.”

You took a step toward him, anger drowning out the pain that had been clawing at your heart. “You made promises to me. You said I was yours, that we’d build this empire together. And yet, you lie to my face with that smirk, knowing you’ve betrayed me.”

His eyes narrowed, the smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “Do you think I am without loyalty, then? Is that what you believe?”

You scoffed, unable to hold back the bitterness that had been festering within you. “You are a man without morals, without loyalty to anyone but yourself. I have been loyal to you in every way. Devoted, loving, but it’s never enough for you, is it?”

James’s expression darkened. “Enough, my Darling,” he said, voice laced with a dangerous edge. “You think you know me, but you don’t. You’ve merely seen what I allow you to see. I am a man of…diverse needs, shall we say.”

Your heart shattered as you realized there was no regret in his eyes, no flicker of remorse for what he had done. “So I was nothing but another game to you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Just another thrill.”

James tilted his head, his smirk returning, infuriatingly smug. “Games, thrills, they are all part of life’s delicious banquet, my darling. And you. You are an essential course.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not in front of him. “You are the very definition of a monster, James Patrick March.”

He chuckled, taking another step toward you, his voice a low, mocking murmur. “Perhaps, but that is why you married me, is it not? You, of all people, should appreciate the…darker appetites.”

You couldn’t bear it anymore. Every word, every cold, calculated sentence sent another wave of bitterness flooding through you. He was right. He had twisted you. Had woven his influence into the very fabric of your being until you could no longer imagine a life free from his shadow.

That was when the idea struck you.

It was the only way you’d ever be free from him, the only way to silence his laughter and those whispered promises that meant nothing. If he would haunt you forever, then you’d ensure that he did so from beyond the grave.

It was late, past midnight, when you met him again in the lavish suite, the room bathed in the flickering glow of firelight. The rain outside was still unceasing, a relentless rhythm that matched the pulsing of your heartbeat.

James was pouring himself a glass of bourbon, entirely oblivious to the weight of your gaze upon him. “Care for a drink, my darling?” he asked without looking up, his voice carrying that familiar trace of arrogance.

You approached him slowly, hands shaking as you concealed the small pistol within the folds of your dress. “No, thank you,” you replied, voice tight. “I’ve come for something else.”

He turned, his brow arching in mild interest as he took a sip of his drink. “Oh? And what might that be?”

The moment hung between you, and for a second, you felt the pang of doubt. But then his smirk returned, and you were reminded of all those empty promises, those lies that had bound you to him. You raised the pistol, your hand steady.

James’s eyes flickered with surprise, and he let out a low chuckle. “Is this a game, my darling? Are you playing the femme fatale?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “No, James. I am ending you.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement, perhaps, mixed with disbelief. “You think you can be free of me?” he asked, his tone dripping with contempt. “That killing me would make you rid of my presence?”

But you were done listening, done letting him weave his darkness into your life. You pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, echoing through the room as James’s body jerked, blood staining his crisp white shirt. His hand reached up, touching the wound, his expression shifting from disbelief to something almost…admiring. He staggered, collapsing against the wall before finally crumpling to the floor, his eyes still locked on you.

You watched, heart pounding as he breathed his last, the life draining from his gaze.

The rain was unyielding, its steady beat drumming against the windows as you stood over James’s lifeless body. The stillness of the room pressed in on you, and for the first time, there was a dreadful quiet that settled around you, almost mocking you. You’d finally done it, freed yourself from him. Or so you thought.

You took a trembling breath, your gaze locked on the man you had once loved, the man who had twisted your heart until it bled. His face, even in death, wore that maddening smirk. Cold dread crept over you, but you pushed it down, telling yourself that this was over. With him gone, you’d be free, finally able to move on.

Yet, the moment you left the suite, you could feel an unsettling weight in the air, an almost tangible sense of wrongness that clung to you. You shook it off, convincing yourself that it was merely the residue of a nightmarish decision. After all, how could a man like James be vanquished so easily?

Days passed, and the world outside the Cortez seemed brighter, the air lighter, everything seemed as though it were trying to convince you of your freedom. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lurking, watching, waiting. In the late hours of the night, when the hotel grew silent, you’d catch yourself holding your breath, listening for sounds that weren’t there.

It began subtly, almost as though your own mind were playing tricks on you. First, it was the scent of his cologne, smoky, rich, unmistakably him. You’d smell it faintly in the halls, just a wisp that vanished as quickly as it came, and you’d shake it off as a phantom memory.

But then, his scent began to linger.

It would seep through your room late at night, filling the air, curling around you like a shroud. It was suffocating, stirring memories that you had tried to bury. His hand on your wrist, his laughter echoing in your mind. You’d wake in a cold sweat, the smell clinging to your sheets, fading only in the first light of dawn.

You told yourself it was guilt, remnants of his presence in your mind. But then, you began to hear his voice.

At first, it was nothing but a whisper, almost too faint to catch, so quiet you could dismiss it as the settling of the old hotel walls or a draft sweeping through the corridors. But the whispers grew louder, words twisting and forming from the darkness.

“Darling…”

The first time you heard it clearly, you froze, your breath caught in your chest as the single word echoed in the quiet of your suite. You searched the empty room, but it was only you, alone, your reflection staring back from the darkened window. “James?” you whispered, barely daring to breathe, your voice trembling. But there was no answer. Just the silence pressing down on you, thick and oppressive.

But the whispers didn’t stop. Each night, they grew clearer, his voice brushing against your ear like a cold breeze. “Did you think you could escape me?” it would murmur, soft and venomous, curling around you, poisoning every thought. “You are mine, my love. You always will be.”

The nights stretched on, and sleep became an elusive dream as his whispers seeped into your mind, filling the silence, never stopping. You’d catch yourself looking over your shoulder, waiting for him to appear from the shadows, certain that he was lurking just out of sight, watching with those cold, predatory eyes.

Then came the sightings.

It started with glimpses. Fleeting shadows in the corner of your eye, just a flicker that vanished before you could focus. But they began to linger, and you could see his silhouette in the mirrors, watching you from the shadows. His face would stare back at you in the reflection, his eyes filled with a dark amusement as if mocking your attempts to escape him. The first time you saw him fully, you screamed, spinning around to find the room empty. But every time you looked back at the mirror, there he was, his smirk taunting you.

“Did you truly think I’d leave so easily?” his voice echoed, seeming to seep from the walls themselves, surrounding you in every corner. “You’re a fool, my love. Death means nothing to a man like me.”

One night, the haunting reached a crescendo. You awoke to the sound of footsteps pacing around your bed, slow, deliberate. Your heart thundered as you lay frozen, listening to the familiar rhythm, a sound you’d known for years. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing it to be a nightmare. But the footsteps drew closer, and then you felt it. A cold hand brushing against your cheek, lingering just long enough to send an icy shiver down your spine.

Your eyes snapped open, and there he was, looming over you, his face pale and hollow, eyes glinting with that same cruel delight. His smile widened as he leaned closer, his breath chilling against your skin. “You thought you could kill me,” he whispered, his voice a cruel, mocking lullaby. “But I am a part of you, my darling. I will haunt you until the end of your days.”

You scrambled out of bed, backing away as he advanced, his form dissipating into shadows yet his presence filling every inch of the room. His laughter echoed around you, a dark, sinister melody that seemed to resonate within your very bones.

From that night on, he became your shadow, his voice filling your mind, his image lurking in every mirror, every dark corner. You’d hear him humming as you walked through the halls, feel his gaze prickling the back of your neck whenever you were alone. You could no longer escape him. He was there, always there, haunting you, reminding you of the darkness he’d woven into your soul.

And in the quietest hours of the night, as the hotel lay silent, you would sometimes feel his hand trace down your arm, his cold fingers pressing against your wrist, a cruel mockery of the warmth he had once feigned. You’d hear his voice in your ear, soft and possessive.

“You can’t run from me, my love. We are bound. Forever.”

And with every passing day, you felt yourself slipping further, dragged down into the darkness he had left behind, bound to him in death as you had been in life, his haunting presence being a constant reminder that there truly is no escape.

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #american horror story #james patrick march #james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x y/n #james patrick march angst #evan peters angst #evan peters x y/n #ahs hotel

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frankenkyle19 · 11 months ago

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drabble idea wherein peter and reader have unspoken tension and they're hiding in a supply closet from some baddies ?? 🩷 missed you bby !!!!

“Can you move over?” You hissed to the silver haired speedster, elbowing him in the stomach with a huff. He groaned, trying to scoot away from your touch. The two of you were trapped in a dingy, tiny, and smelly supply closet, trying to wait out the bad guys. You were both outnumbered and while Quicksilver could just speed the two of you away, but there was no room to actually speed away when in a room surrounded by people trying to kill you.

“shut up, squishing you is the least of my worries right now, let’s worry about it when or if we make it out of here alive.” Peter quipped back, sending a jab your way, hitting you in the chest, right into your boob. You cursed under your breath, shooting Peter a death glare. Not that he could see it, considering it was pitch black in the closet.

“…Was that your boob?” Peter asked after several silent seconds.

Another few seconds passed before you responded, holding said boob in your hand as the ache subsided.

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

“I am so kicking you in the balls when we get back to the academy, I swear to God Peter!” You whisper yelled back at him. Motherfucker.

“I can massage it for you if you’d like, princess.” Silence once more.

You knew he’d said it in a teasing way, but god, the idea? Of Peter touching you? It kind of… sounded nice?

“Hey, you still breathing over there?” He asked, nudging you again. Luckily this time not in the boob.

“Yes…” you responded breathlessly. God the effect he had on you was ridiculous. You wanted to kill him. You felt his body brush against yours and instead of pulling away, he stayed right there, pressed up against you. God. The heat radiating off of him was insane.

“Peter…” You could feel his breath hitch against you, chest pausing mid breath.

“yeah?”

“if I knew you could stay quiet, I’d say to kiss me right now. But I think if you don’t stay quiet it could get us killed.”

#evan peters #evan peters icons #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff x reader

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yeahthatsonearthdipshit000 · 2 years ago

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things that I didn't expect in each Lockood & Co. episode

E.1: This Will Be Us:

The intro is fucking sick

THE DOOR ON THE LANDING IS IN THE INTROOOOO

The Locket was changed to a ring?!????

Everything else was insanely accurate

"Lockwood's a dick"

E.2: Let Go Of Me:

Ghost-lock is like...a really big issue??

"Yeah, she can be a bit...quirky,"

Lockwood didn't use his smiley giraffe toy mobile😭

Uh Lucy was literally possessed~

LOCKWOOD'S RED SOCKSSS

"He's a little shit, sir."

The boys freaking out at the end when they find out Lucy had the ring the whole time

E.3: Doubt Thou The Stars:

"You've got a real hard-on for him, haven't you?" "Well, if you want to put it like that."

Combe Carrey Hall is ELEGANT

THE GOGGLES ARE SO GOOFY LOOKING OML

They got "arrested"???

Penelope Fittes just trotting up to them at the Fitte's boy's funeral??

LUCY GETTING HER FOURTH GRADE

LUCY JUST FUCKING PASSING OUT AT THE END???

E.4: Sweet Dreams:

Lucy wasn't at the wraith cemetery at the beginning of the whispering skull😭

"And you just wanna watch him...die."

JOPLIN IS A WOMANNNNNN💅💅💪💅😭

Kensel Green was owned by the Bickerstaffs and their son - Edmund - was caught digging up corpses uhhhhh

Lucy's mental breakdown in kensel green

Bickerstaffs ghost being so fucking huge and like disintegrating lucy's rapier

The skull's voice being like warped and so fucking creepy oml

"and it proves that I am like-" "clinically insane?" "REALLY FUCKIN POWERFUL"

"I know I look like Anthony Lockwood, but I'm not. I'm actually a fully qualified doctor."

The episode went by insanely quick??? Like?

E.5: Death Is Coming:

The Tendy's badge??

Joplin is giving....pedophile

Also is her actor the same one who plays molly in sherlock????

MRS WINKMAN IS A FUCKIN BADASS

Nahhh cuz winkman's freaking voice-

LOCKWOOD WAS IN AN ELECTRIC CHAIR THE WHOLE TIME LMAO

ALSO WHY IS WINKMAN SO VIOLENT ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO CARESS LOCKY'S HAND AND TELL HIM TO GO AWAY??

Leopold was abused😭😭😭😭😭

E.6: You Never Asked:

The ghosts of bickerstaff's patients like that was so creepy

The Golden Blade's manbun💅

Salt sprinklers instead of water sprinklers??? And they're gorgeous??!???

E.7: Mesmerised

LOCKWOOD HYPERVENTILATING AT THE AUCTION AND HIM AND LUCY HOLDING EACH OTHER AND THE "NOW PLEASE PLEASE GET BACK TO BEING A FLIPPANT DICKGEAD AND GET US OUT OF HERE"😭😭😭

Golden blade snapping Lockwood's rapier and then lucy hoping up behind him and absolutely annihilating his fucking back

Lockwood was wearing blue socks this time

"You me and herons, let's do it" AHSHSVSH I'VE ALWAYS SHIPPED GEORGE AND FLO ITS FINALLY HAPPENINGBKAJDBD

LOCKWOOD HELPING LUCY OF THE GROUND AND THEM LOOKING AT EACH OTHER LIKE THEY'RE GONNA KISS AND THEN LUCY SHOVING LOCKY AND StRuTtInG AWAY

E.8: Not The Eternal:

All of the circles George drew on the thinking cloth

Winkman taking his jacket off like a baddie💅💪

"And I'm Anthony bloody Lockwood"

Kipps having a panic attack and totally crying in the catacombs😭

Kat godwin being so fucking sexy with her rapier

"To save my friends." 🏃‍♂️"And Kipps."🏃‍♂️

Golden Blade shooting Lockwood and yeeting him down into the catacombs

Luce using the skull to look at the bone glass????

Lockwood in his normal clothes at the end and all of them bustling around like a little family😭😭😭😭😭😭

"Lockwood almost died a thousand times, but I think he's decided he's better off alive. Which is really good"

LUCY SHOVING A DONUT IN GEORGE'S MOUTH LMAOOO

AND LOCKY WASN'T WEARING SHOES

IN CONCLUSION I AM READY FOR THE HOLLOW BOY

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yoon-kooks · 2 years ago

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playboys & pancakes | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When your fuckboy model friend Park Jimin returns from Paris, Jungkook can't help but feel a little jealous and protective over you even though the two of you aren't technically dating yet.

⛓️word count: 2.6k

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, oc is a lil brat, boy gets jealous🤭, soft cuddling, jimin is a tattooed fuckboy, no explicit smut in this drabble

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: this was a cute lil drabble request for jealous!jjk!! if you make it all the way to the end, there ✨might✨ be a special teaser... lmk if yall would be interested👀

In the middle of class, Jungkook stares at the seat next time him where you’re busy giggling and texting away for some unknown reason. He’s dying to know the context so he can use it against you later to see that pretty smile once more.

“Hey you,” you whisper, leaning over in his direction. It’s rare for the two of you to talk in the classroom since you both agreed it was best to lay low about whatever the fuck this is between you and him. It must be something urgent. “Do you know any cute girls who are single right now?”

Jungkook just blinks at you in utter disbelief. You’re already sick of him, aren’t you? You’d rather fool around with some cute girl than fuck some loser who makes her finish her homework a week before it’s due. Well shit. It was fun while it lasted.

“Asking for a friend,” you add. Not helping, by the way. Could you make it any more obvious that you’re trying to break off this… arrangement between you and him? “My friend said he’s down bad.”

Wait.

You flash your phone screen in Jungkook’s face for him to read what you were presumably giggling about earlier.

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “A what tattoo?!🥵🍆”

Jimin🍄 [10:46AM] “Btw please tell me you know a cute girl who is as down bad as I am”

Jimin🍄 [10:47AM] “Paris was not as romantic as they make it out to be”

Y/N✨ [10:48AM] “hold on lemme ask the dilf”

The dilf has a lot of questions. The first being, “You have friends?” He’s mostly just teasing you for lacking genuine friendships despite being so popular, but this is the first time he’s heard you talk about a friend that wasn’t him.

“He’s a friend from high school,” you explain. “He’s been studying abroad for the past few years and just got back yesterday. I’m letting him crash at my place this weekend so we can catch up.”

Hmm. Jungkook wasn’t planning on sharing you with anyone this weekend, but this is a much better scenario than you outright abandoning him for someone else. In fact, he might even know just the right person to satisfy your friend’s needs.

“And why are you calling me a dilf—”

He never gets an answer because the professor calls on you to answer a question on the board. You glance up and give the correct answer with no hesitation despite the distractions next to you and on your phone. Your nerdy side is just as attractive as your bubbly personality.

He’s so lucky to have a girl like you.

“Jimin wants to have brunch with you tomorrow, by the way,” you say on Friday night as you snuggle closer to Jungkook on the couch. It’s one of those rare wholesome nights at his place where you aren’t dripping in pleasure, moaning your little heart out with him inside you. “I told him you’d hook him up with a baddie and now he wants to interrogate you to make sure you have good taste.”

“I think I have pretty good taste.” He looks right at your cute naked face with no makeup on. You’re also borrowing one of his oversized tees and using it as a nightshirt. Obviously, he has amazing taste.

“So you’ll come?” Your smile is so bright. How could he ever say no to that? “We can meet up with him there and go to my place after.”

“Sure,” he says. Besides, he’d like to see this Jimin guy for himself. From what you’ve said about him, he seems like a cool dude studying fashion design. But it’s also kind of fucked up that your closest friend abandoned you here without anyone else to rely on for all those years apart. It’s shitty to think how alone you must’ve felt until the two of you started talking barely a month ago.

“Cool, I think you’ll get along with him,” you yawn into his chest while twirling his hair around your finger. Thank god he decided to let his hair grow out so you could play with it as much as you want. “He’s like you but friendlier and fuckboy-ish.”

“If he’s friendly and fuckboy-ish, how is that like me?” Jungkook isn’t picking up what you’re putting down. He doesn’t like the sound of the fuckboy part, either.

“He has a lot of tattoos and a cute face, but he’s kind of mean in a teasing way. Just like you.” The twirling is slowing down. “A lot of people say he’s super attractive too.”

You reach for your phone that somehow ended up on the other side of the boy and pull up Jimin’s Instagram. Jungkook studies the page and clicks on a pic of your friend all suited up in Dior. Damn. Not only is he handsome, but he also knows how to pose and look good in photos. You kind of left out the part about him being an actual model.

Of course you have another attractive guy friend who enjoys teasing you. Of course this guy happens to be staying with you while he’s “down bad.” And of course Jeon Jungkook is not going to let himself feel a certain way about it.

The next morning, Jungkook wakes up to your arms wrapped around his waist as you’re still snoozing away on the couch. Very carefully, he peels your arms away one at a time, hops out of the blanket, and gives you his sleepy kitten to hold onto in place of him. You make this cute little whiny sound as you cuddle the cat.

Successful in leaving you undisturbed, the boy heads to his room and opens his sorry excuse of a closet. The majority of his wardrobe is just basic shit like hoodies, plain tees, ripped jeans, and sweats for the gym. He’s never really put a whole lot of thought into his fashion, but he woke up this morning with an urge to look somewhat good for brunch. It totally has nothing to do with that fashion model friend of yours.

After a good ten minutes of contemplation, he eventually goes with a nice crewneck and one of the few pairs of black jeans that aren’t all torn up. It’s just brunch anyway.

By then, you’ve woken up and thrown on that pretty beige sundress you left behind a few weeks ago. He’d conveniently washed it for you when he was doing a light load. Now you smell like his lavender laundry soap.

When the two of you get to the brunch place, you claim a booth and wait for Jimin to arrive. Your arm brushes against his as you flap through the menu. The booth is pretty spacious, and yet you’re sitting that close to him. He doesn’t mind, of course.

“I’m gonna get the pink strawberry waffles… but the chocolate banana pancakes look really good, too.” You point at the pictures like a child. “What about you?”

“Chocolate banana pancakes.” He didn’t have his mind made up until that very moment. You’re always stealing his food off his plate these days anyway. He might as well pick something you’ll enjoy.

“Ooh, good, now I can try it too,” you sing. Called it.

“Never said I was sharing,” Jungkook shakes his head. You both know he’s bluffing.

“What do I have to do for a taste?” you ask so innocently while leaning your soft tits against his arm. “Do you want me to get down on my hands and knees and suck dad—”

“Hi Y/N, hey Jungkook.” Your handsome model friend slides into the other side of the booth and interrupts your enticing proposal. Your eyes light up in a way Jungkook has never seen before.

“Jimin!” you smile.

“Hey,” Jungkook adds, a lot less enthusiastic than you. Of course Jimin is even better looking in person.

After ordering, you ask Jimin to spill the deets on his Paris adventures. In addition to an internship, he also did in fact spend some time modeling for a few luxury brands. Now that he’s back home, he’s planning on taking it easy for a bit before moving forward with fashion design.

So that’s why he’s asking for a baddie to kill time with. He can have anyone he wants as long as it’s not you.

As the two friends catch up, Jungkook notices the way you lean forward toward the other boy and laugh at nearly everything he says—although to be fair, he is a pretty funny and charming guy. That’s the kind of guy that would complement your playful personality so well.

The food comes shortly after, and you stare intensely at Jimin’s French toast even though you have a pretty pink waffle right in front of you and Jungkook’s pancakes right beside you.

“Really? The guy who just got back from France ordered French toast?” you snicker, turning to Jungkook to get him on your side. He chuckles, but only because you’re cute when you’re being mischievous.

“Would you like some, Y/N?” Jimin waves off your silliness. He must be used to it because it hardly affects him the way it affected Jungkook.

“Yes, please.” You cut off a small piece of French toast and go in for a taste. It gets not one but two thumbs up from you.

“Still a foodie, I see,” Jimin observes. You nod. He must’ve been the one you were dragging around to different food places back in high school. But now that’s Jungkook’s job, and he’d like to keep it that way.

So Jungkook waits. He waits patiently for you to ask for a taste of his food. After all, he ordered the chocolate banana pancakes with you in mind.

But instead, you’re minding your own business and digging into your pink waffle. Weren’t you offering a whole blowjob for a taste of his pancakes a little while ago? Now you suddenly don’t want it because he’d joked about not sharing it? This is stressing him out more than it should.

You turn and catch the boy next to you aggressively sawing through his pile of pancakes with his butter knife. Hopefully you don’t pick up on his distress.

“Are the pancakes goo—” Before you can finish your question, a few freshly cut pancake pieces are plopped onto your plate beside the pink waffle.

“You said you wanted to try it, didn’t you?” Jungkook tries his best to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

Your Surprised Pikachu face quickly turns into a smug look. “Thought you weren’t sharing,” you hum as you indulge in the moist chocolatey delight. At the same time, your free hand casually runs along the boy’s inner thigh and gives it a squeeze under the table. Playing innocent might be part of your personality, but you know exactly what you’re doing to him. “The pancakes are yummy, by the way.”

Still, your touch is as much of a comfort as it is a turn-on.

“So, are you still interested in the hot girl Jungkook knows?” you ask Jimin. Jungkook hasn’t even shown you a pic of the girl, and yet you’re already hyping her up. You also aren’t aware that it’s someone he’s slept with in the past, but he’ll address that another time.

“Listen, when I said I was down bad,” Jimin lowers his voice, “I meant I need to get laid as soon as possible.”

“Damn, what happened in Paris? Who hurt you?” you frown as you take a big sip of coffee.

“I’ll spill the tea later,” he sighs. Looks like it’s still a touchy subject.

To lift the other boy’s spirit a little, Jungkook pulls up an Instagram page filled with a ton of colorful floral tattoos. If you scroll down enough, you might even find a few pics of his tattoos there too.

“She’s a tattoo artist.” He rolls up his sleeve and points out a few floral pieces that match the style from the Instagram page. “She doesn’t really post pics of herself, but she probably has more tattoos and piercings than me.”

“And she’s hot,” you add in even though that’s already been established.

“I’ll ask if she’s free.” Jungkook pulls up her contact info and shoots her a message. She responds right away.

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “Do you have time for a walk-in today?”

Jungkook🐍 [11:39AM] “I know a guy who’s interested in you”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😳”

Jungkook🐍 [11:40AM] “interested in your tattoos**”

???🌼 [11:40AM] “😔”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “todays been slow pls send him my way thx”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “tell him he gets a discount if hes cute”

???🌼 [11:41AM] “IM KIDDING PLS DONT TELL HIM THAT ILL GET CANCELED”

“Yeah she’s free right now,” Jungkook says, trying to keep a straight face. “I’ll give you the address to her studio.”

“Ooh, perfect,” you squeak at Jimin who still doesn’t look completely sold on the whole thing. “You can scout it out as soon as we’re done here.”

“Wait, are you sure it’s okay? I know I said I needed this asap, but I’m mostly here to visit you,” he says.

“Well, now that you’re back from overseas, we can hang out anytime. I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him, downing the rest of your coffee. You’re such a good friend. “And besides, it could be life-changing sex waiting for you at the tattoo shop.”

Jimin nods at your encouragement. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll go.”

“Good.” You slide your ass right over Jungkook’s lap to get out of the booth. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t lean into it a little. “Be right back. I drank too much liquid.”

With you off to the bathroom, Jungkook sits alone across from the other boy. It always gets awkward when the mutual friend disappears. What are they supposed to talk about now that you’re gone?

“So… are you two, like, dating…?” Jimin wastes no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “Y/N always avoids the question whenever I ask.”

“What makes you ask?” The question is mostly to stall time until you get back, but Jungkook is also curious to know what you’ve said about him.

“The way she talks about you makes it seem like you guys are married,” he chuckles. Wow, he has a charming eye smile too. Jungkook would’ve been threatened by that level of charm, but he seems to have already let go of that feeling. “She told me you’re raising a kitten together and that you’re always scolding or spoiling it like a true dilf—her words, not mine. She won’t shut up about how you’ll make a good dad one day.”

At least he knows where the dilf propaganda comes from now. He’ll admit it’s a lot more wholesome than he thought. You really do just gush about him to your best friend. Maybe you feel the same way he does when it comes to this unestablished relationship between you and him.

Maybe you also want something more.

When you return, you finish up your food, split the bill, and send Jimin on his way to the tattoo studio. Hopefully, it goes well for him. Not because Jungkook is worried the other boy might turn around and try something funny on you, but because he wants any friend of yours to experience the same type of feelings he feels when he’s with you. Damn. He wasn’t expecting to get all gushy this weekend, but he’s not going to fight it either.

“What’d you guys talk about while I was in the bathroom?” you ask on the way back to the car.

“Not much,” Jungkook shrugs. “Just about you calling me a dilf.”

“Oh no, I feel so exposed,” you whine in your favorite sarcastic tone. Then you turn to him and bat your lashes. Brat. “Am I wrong, though?”

a/n: okay i dont normally put notes like this at the end of my fics, but im gonna tease a potential jimin spinoff💖 lmk what you guys think!

⛓️pairing: model!jimin x tattooartist!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, fwb2l, possible angst (??)

⛓️summary: After breaking up with your on-and-off boyfriend for hopefully the last time, an old fling sends his handsome model friend to your tattoo studio. And apparently, he’s as done with love as you are.

⛓️warnings: jimin & oc are both heartbroken and starved for sex (as you might have noticed from this drabble lol), oc is an actual baddie with tattoos everywhere and a belly piercing, there will be a lot more warnings if i decide to go through with this!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

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