#i don’t know WHAT exactly is clicking so hard with this book but I really really like it

[beauzos]

bro Project Hail Mary is so fucking good. I’m a little under halfway through it and I love it. I couldn’t put it down once I got to Rocky. I fucking love him

I never read sci fi so it’s been really refreshing. What a great book so far

[mostly-imagines]

Still Wanna Play?

jason todd x afab!reader

aka jason puts you back in your place

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), soft!dom jason, (attempted) soft!dom reader

When Jason returned from patrol last night you were in a mood. The second he walked in your bedroom you’d given him those eyes, those sweet, wide eyes. The ones that let him know you want him to do whatever he wants to you, as long as he does something.

He’d settled on pinning your wrists to your stomach and holding them there as he ate you out, only breaking away to tease you about how desperate you were for him to take care of you.

And you were, to be fair.

But now, as you lay in bed next to him hours later, your mind starts to drift into what-if territory. But not your usual, worst-case scenarios. Something new. Something…interesting.

What if he was that desperate for you to take care of him? Would he even let you push him that far?

You’d never really tried to reverse your roles—you’ve been on top plenty, but always with his hands around you, controlling your pace or his words of direction.

But you really wanted to know.

You turn your body to fully face him, making quick work of removing his book from his hands and setting it open on the bedside table.

Your proximity returns quickly, nustling up against his side, placing scattered kisses along his bicep.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?”

“Nothin’, Jay. Just wanna be close to you.”

He hums, skeptical. You’re not usually so forward with initiating, especially after you’ve already had your fun that night.

You shift up onto your knees, climbing across him to sit on his lap.

He grabs your waist and you break away from your stream of kisses. You place your hands on his wrists, though barely able to wrap them halfway around, moving his hands off of you.

He looks at you funny, unsure of what exactly you’re going for here. You guide his hands down to the bed, pressing down on them lightly before returning your touch to the sides of his face.

You lean further into the kiss, forcing him to lay back on the bed.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and moves a hand up to find your body again. You move it back down by his side again, not halting your kiss this time.

He pulls back from the kiss and looks up at you, studying you.

“What are you playing at?”

You smile, shaking your head lightly, “Just wanna play.”

You start to roll your hips on him, making him groan. He starts to shift under you again and you nip a light bite on his neck that makes him still.

“Ah.” He clicks his tongue, “You wanna be in charge? Is that it?”

You pull back to meet his eyes and nod, your lack of vocalization not helping your mission. Still though, he’s not making any moves to take over.

“Think you can do it? It’s a big job, baby.”

You nod your head quickly. “I can, Jay.” You assert. “I will.”

He tilts his head at you, smiling. “Alright then, sweetheart. Go ahead.”

This feels like a trap. Maybe it is, but you’ll be damned if you’re not going to jump at the opportunity.

In any case, you lay your body fully on top of his and trail kisses across his collar, starting to leave bruises in your wake.

You take his wrists in your hands once again, this time moving them up to pin them beside his head. Now you know he’s just letting you play your game, if not just to see where it goes. Frankly, you’re surprised he’s let you go this far.

It’s a bit silly though, you have to imagine. You, holding down this massive man by his wrists, as if anything you did could do anything to stop him from moving if he wanted to.

You continue to nip at his neck, making sure to pay extra attention where you know he’s sensitive.

He makes a low sound in his throat, something that sounds close to a warning.

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t gotta be so tough all the time.”

The look he gives you lets you know he’s biting his tongue, giving you your chance to play man-in-charge. And you are just playing, really. You don’t know it yet, but he sure as hell does.

“I know it’s hard, but you can let me take care of you for a change, can’t you?”

You start to grind down on him, earning you a low exhale from him. But you want more.

You relax your grip on his wrists and rub soothing circles on his palm, nuzzling your face further into his neck.

It’s enough to make him relax under you, which for him, is a clear sign in him placing his trust in you here. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.

“That’s my boy.” You whisper, kissing his forehead. It’s half condescending, half true to what you know he likes. He loves it when you call him yours, it makes him shut right up and go all heart eyes on you.

You’re basically making out with the sweet spot under his jaw as you move your hips back and forth over his growing hard-on.

With the way his wrists keep flinching under your hand, you can tell that he’s having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Usually when you ride him, he’s all over you, hands caressing your body everywhere he can reach.

If you weren’t testing the limits so much here, you’d reward him for listening to you so well, but you’re not about to bide your time under these circumstances.

You lift up your hips and pull down on his boxers, freeing his length. You don’t do anything yet though, simply ghosting your lips across his cheek.

“Baby…” he groans, but this one’s less of a warning, closer to a plea. Okay, we’re making progress.

You sink down onto him slowly, adjusting to his size proving to be no easy feat from this angle.

He closes his eyes and bites the inside of his cheek as you lower yourself, inch by inch.

Admittedly, this is a lot easier when he’s kissing you and touching you and exactly where you need him, whispering in your ear how good you’re doing for him, what a good girl you’re—no. No. You can do this on your own. You can do this for both of you.

He finally bottoms out and you’re able to begin moving your hips up and down, up and down.

And you try. You really do try, but he’s just so big and even when he’s helping you (which he pointedly is not), riding him is a difficult task.

On a good day it’ll take you out of commission for walking for at least the next few days. Now, you’re not even five minutes in and you can already tell it’s going to be at least a week. Maybe you should’ve waited to do this on a night when he hadn’t already made you come three times with his tongue.

You put your weight into holding his wrists down, hoping it’ll help you gain some traction. It doesn’t do much.

It’s a big job, he said. At the time, you may have been a little idealistic about how this was going to play out. Though, were you even the one who decided to ride him, or did he put you on top? You struggle to pull back the memory now, your body giving the choice of movement or thinking—you can’t have both. Movement it is.

It’s not long before your thighs start to burn and you have to battle just to hold yourself upright. The movement you are able to make just isn’t enough. You can’t go fast enough or take as much of him as you want on each bounce. Though at this point, ‘bounce’ is generous.

Jason’s smile just grows the whole time he watches you struggle, eyes roaming shamelessly up and down your body.

“Aw, poor thing. Can’t do it?” He asks, hand coming up to stroke small circles on your hip with his thumb. This time you don’t stop him—you can’t.

“Jay…” You whine, not ready to endure his teasing. Too bad.

“What, hm? What d’you want? You’re the one in charge sweetheart, do it yourself.”

How the hell did he manage to flip this around? Actually, if you were thinking more clearly right now you’d realize that you never really managed to reverse your original roles at all.

You move your hands to lay flat on top of his chest, a position that isn’t doing you any more favors than the last one.

You throw your head back in frustration, movements halting.

“Not so easy, huh?”

You pout down at him, brows furrowed. He smiles wider and sits up all the way, giving you a sweet kiss. Okay good, he’s going to be nice about this. You hope.

His hand comes up to comb the hair out of your face, forehead resting against yours.

“Tell me what I want to hear.” He whispers.

Oh. You don’t want to. Not after all that game you talked.

You shut your eyes. “Mm…”

“Can’t hear you, baby. Speak up.” He pinches your waist for emphasis.

What are the odds he ever lets you live this down if you give in? What are the odds of him letting you finish if you don’t say it?

Cost. Benefit. Cost. Benefit. Cost…benefit…

Fine.

“You’re in charge.” You mumble defeated, but still making sure to be clear enough that he won’t make you repeat it. Though that’s never a guarantee.

“Oh yeah?”

You open your eyes and meet his teasing gaze through a lowered brow, willing him to go easy on you.

“That’s alright, baby. I can take things over for you.” He says sweetly, kissing the side of your head before pulling out of you.

You gawk at the sudden emptiness in you and move to complain before he flips you on your back, head hitting the pillow with a light thud.

He takes hold of your wrists this time, raising them above your head, pinning them together with one hand.

He uses his other hand to caress up your side, up to the underside of your breast, brushing his thumb back and forth.

“Thought you were my good girl, hm? What happened?”

You stare up at him, not quite able to formulate an answer and not quite sure if he wants an answer.

“Don’t wanna be my good girl anymore? That it?” He asks, brow furrowed with a light pout on his lips.

You shake your head fervently, you do, you really do. You are.

“No, I just—”

“Just wanted to play? Yeah, I remember.”

He lets his hand drift back down your side, dipping past your waist. His knuckles ghost over your clit, not kind enough to grant you any pressure. The teasing brush makes you whine and squirm.

“How ‘bout now, baby? You still wanna play games?”

His hand brushes past again, slower.

“Answer me.”

“No, I’m done. I’m done. Please, Jay…”

“Please, Jay…” he mimics, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

He positions himself at your core, sliding back into you tantalizingly slowly. With you as wet as you are, you know he’s not doing it to help you adjust so much as to torture you.

Once he sinks all the way in, he lets out a small groan and squeezes his eyes shut. He begins to move, the return of the sensation feeling like a saving grace.

He starts to pick up his pace, entering a rhythm that you couldn’t have dreamed of achieving when you were on top.

As he continues on, it doesn’t take him long to find that spot, meeting it with accuracy on every stroke.

You let out a broken moan, his hand once again grazing your clit back and forth in reward.

“That it? Right there, baby?” He knows damn well he’s hitting the right spot, he could draw a fucking map at this point.

“Y—yes, Jay. Please, please. Just let me—”

“I know I don’t hear you trying to give orders.” He says, hand snapping away from where you need it.

“No, I—I’m just…please.” You sound honest to God desperate and it’s enough to push his already light resolve to its end.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

His fingers finally touch your clit with intention and that alone is enough to leave you gasping.

He draws circles over your clit just exceptionally, making your breathing speed up and your legs shake in anticipation.

You look up at him, eyes pleading. “Please?” You whisper, breathless.

He squeezes your wrists, gaze still focused on where your bodies meet. “Yeah, baby. Yeah. Go ahead.”

And it sure is a good thing he said it when he did because you were over the edge like that.

His eyes snap back up to your face the second you start to tighten around him. “There she is.” He mumbles, eyes scanning your features carefully. “That’s my girl.”

His head drops into your neck, releasing your wrists above your head in favor of holding your hand. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, grip tightening as he comes right after you.

Your free hand comes down to caress the back of his head as he finishes, short hair fluttering between your fingers.

You lay beneath him, chests heaving, bodies both lax.

“Was—was I…” you trail off, still thoroughly out of breath.

He kisses your neck once and nuzzles his face in further. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were such a good girl for me. So good.”

You close your eyes and smile, because fuck does that feel good.

[thestrangepoet]

The Ninth Life | The Magnus Archives One Shot

Based on @ultramarinaa's Cat!Martin AU, and not upon @coworkerjonathan's soul-destroying tragic version of it. If you want that version, it's here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Buttocks-clenchingly sweet fluff. 

DISCLAIMER: I, once again, wrote this in an hour and haven't proofread it. Forgive the typos and any “first draft” vibes. 

──── •✧• ────

[CLICK] 

Oop, yup, it’s on! Right, erm…This is Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute. I thought it would be a good idea to—

[A VERY LOUD, VERY RASPY HISSING CUTS MARTIN OFF]

[A LONG, WEIGHTY PAUSE FOLLOWS; SOMEONE IS BEING GLARED AT]

What? I-I mean, given the absolute palaver we just went through, shouldn’t we record what happened and how we fixed it? 

[SILENCE FOLLOWS. BUT MARTIN EVIDENTLY GETS HIS ANSWER]

Exactly! Right, so…ah-hem. This is Martin Bla—

[ONCE AGAIN, A LOUD HISS]

What? What is wrong with—No, Jon, you’re going to hit the—!

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[MARTIN RUFFLES SOME PAPERS, THEN EXHALES LOUDLY THROUGH HIS NOSE. WHEN HE SPEAKS THIS TIME, IT’S SOMEWHAT TAUT]

Statement of Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding an encounter with a feline-based Leitner book called The Ninth Life. Recorded by subject, October 17th, 2017.

Happy now? 

[LOUD PURRING NEAR THE TAPE RECORDER SIGNIFIES THAT MARTIN HAS INDEED DONE A PASSABLE JOB]

Good, good. Right, oop! Yeah, okay, you can…sit on my lap while I record this. That’s not…that’s not weird at all. Knowing you’re…you’re Jon. 

…You could at least sit like a cat, Jon. No, no, no, don’t get the claws out, it’s fine! Sit how you want! Heh…K-keeping an eye on me, hmm? While I record? Oh, r-right, yeah, ‘Get on with it, Martin’, noted!

So…about ten weeks ago, I came across a book while tidying through some of the old statement boxes. I’m not sure why it wasn’t in the library or in Artefact Storage, but I suppose that’s a mystery for another time. A-anyway, I had a flick through to try to figure out what it was. Could have just been a normal book, you know? E-especially since it wasn’t put away properly, I mean, really, that’s a health and safety risk that wasn’t my fault, and—Ow! Claws! 

R-right, ‘Stay on the subject, Martin’, loud and clear…

Where was I? O-oh, right. So I took it through to the break room, sat down with it, flicked through, read a few…err, well, ten pages to be precise, and basically, it was written like an old fairy tale. Something about a man who turned into a cat to get away from everyone and…W-well, what I’m trying to say is that it didn’t seem like a Leitner! 

I’d probably have finished reading the whole thing, but the microwave dinging made me jump and look up. No one usually uses the microwave outside of lunch hours, but Jon actually makes cups of tea by microwaving mugs of water and then—Ah-ah-ow! N-no, I’m not getting claw-bullied into not telling people the heinous way you make tea, Jon! 

Right, right, fine! Yes, so, microwave dings, I look up from the book, and…I drop the book. And I drop to the floor, a-and the book’s suddenly huge, and there’s Jon, and he’s looking at me, and…

…and I was a cat. I-I-I guess Jon hadn’t noticed me in the break room before putting his mug in the microwave, because he didn’t realise I was me. Next thing I know, I’m being picked up, held over his shoulder, petted and cooed at and—Owwww, claws, claws! Right, okay, no, no one can know Jonathan Sims has a heart, right you are! 

E-erm, so…Yeah. Panicked a bit. I-I tried to make it obvious to the others that it was me, but they just didn’t cotton on. And I couldn’t read the book to figure out if the ending would tell me how to turn back. O-or if I even would turn back. Honestly, in any other situation, I-I might have been really terrified, but it’s hard to keep worrying when people are suddenly stroking you and giving you all this affection. Heh, Jon even named me Champion. 

But, right, I-I really needed to turn back into a human. You know, as lovely as it was to be liked by everyone, I figured, well, it’s deeply unprofessional to turn into a cat at work, isn’t it? And I really didn’t want to be written up for unauthorised absences when I was technically in the room? 

It took a while – I don’t know who moved it, but the book had gone when I managed to slink back into the break room, had to wait for someone to open the door for me, you see – but I eventually found The Ninth Life again. 

It took ages to drag it over to Jon’s desk. And even longer for him to stop laughing and telling me what dedicated little chap I was. He picked up the book though, and I got so excited that someone would finally realise a Leitner was in play that I jumped up onto his desk and…

…and I…erm…I knocked his cup of tea over the book. 

I could feel my heart sinking. What if I’d ruined it? What if the answer was all smudged up? Jon could tell I was upset, and he started trying to pet me and calm me down, mopping up the tea and everything. Took a while before he got back to the book, and, well…the bookplate had been smeared by the spilt tea, I guess, because he didn’t see any mention of Leitner at the front. He started reading the book, and I tried to nudge him to read the back pages first, to get to the answer before the book could turn him into a cat, but he, erm…well, he read it. Five pages, we think. 

And there he was. 

One minute, Jon’s at his desk, the next, there’s a little black cat with too many scars sitting in his chair. 

Well, after he’d stopped hissing, running around the room – Tim thought he had zoomies, ha ha! – and bapping me on the head every time I got close, he realised who I was. 

And then, he bapped me on the head again. 

So. We were both cats! And it’s so funny, because in the office, Tim and Sasha and me, we all say how Jon gives off major black-cat energy? He’s like this poor wet cat in human form, and now that he was a cat, and it turned out, he is…w-well, he’s not very good at being a cat? 

[A LOUD HISS – EVIDENTLY, MARTIN HAS FORGOTTEN JON IS SITTING THERE]

Don’t hiss at me! You know it’s true. I mean, look, you’re literally sitting in my lap now like a human. Cats don’t do that, Jon! It looks weird! 

R-right, okay, let’s, erm, get on with the story – ah, statement, statement! – before I get scratched again. 

S-so, right, Jon wasn’t really getting the hang of being a cat. He kept clambering up onto desks to type on keyboards, trying to tell Tim what was happening. He wouldn’t even jump up onto the desks, he would literally shimmy up the leg like he was climbing a tree. And, yeah, he doesn’t sit in your lap like a cat, all curled up, no no, he sits…like a person sits. So I figured actually, this was pretty good, someone had to realise something was up with this cat that just wasn’t catting. 

But no. No, no, Tim just laughed and named Jon Skrunkly and got on with his day. 

[A LONG, LOW MIAOW OF CONTEMPT IN THE BACKGROUND]

Nooo! You’re not skrunkly at all, Jon! You’re a very handsome little kitty!

[A HISS]

Right, right! Back to work! Erm, yeah, so, there I am, trying to teach Skr–err, Jon how to act more like a cat. Not because it would help get us back to normal, but because I was worried? He kept falling off stuff, not landing on his feet…jumping and missing things…He was having a really hard time, and I figured if we were stuck like this indefinitely, it might help to, you know…teach him a bit? 

And then, one day, he just…vanished. I wandered in one morning from the canteen, ‘cause Sasha had snuck me a plate of milk, and I couldn’t find Jon anywhere. Tim realised pretty quickly that something was up, that I wouldn’t settle down, and then he noticed Skrun–err, Jon, was missing. 

It took days for me to sniff him out. Which is…a really weird thing to say out loud. On record. Erm. I sniffed my boss out. But it’s insane, as a cat, the difference in senses, a-and to be honest, my eyesight was dreadful because I obviously couldn’t wear my glasses. A-anyway, sniffed him out, and realised he had somehow fallen into the tunnels through the trapdoor? Which is weird as well, ‘cause the trapdoor is always closed. No one would have opened it? 

[ANOTHER LOW MIAOW, BUT THIS ONE SOUNDS STRANGELY LIKE SKRUNKLY IS TRYING TO SPEAK – IT ALMOST SOUNDS LIKE HE’S SAYING ‘SASHA!’]

I know, Jon, you’ll tell us when you, erm, get back. 

So, now I knew where he was, I went into full hyperkitty mode. I was zooming around, miaowing, pawing, jumping on Tim, jumping at Tim, launching myself off bookshelves, you name it! Somehow, I managed to get the message across, and Tim went to open the trapdoor. 

I…I hate going into the tunnels. I really, really hate it. But Jon was down there, and as far as we knew, he’d been down there with no food and water for days! So, down I jumped, with Tim clambering after me telling me to slow down. I kept sniffing, and it was actually pretty easy to find him after that! 

There he was, curled up and shaking near a wall, and I ran towards him, miaowing my head off so he knew we were coming to the rescue, and…

And I…changed back. Right there. Just pop! There I was. 

Tim, erm…Tim screamed. Jon hissed and nearly ran away. It was chaos, and…I’m actually surprised all three of us made it out. Especially with Jon going wild on Tim and clawing him every time he tried to pick him up. What was that about, anyway, we were helping you!

[ANOTHER GRUMBLING MIAOW – DID SKRUNKLY SEE SOMETHING IN THE TUNNELS? OR SOMEONE? WAS HE TRYING TO TELL THEM?]

We got back up to the office, Jon in tow, and now that I could speak, Tim, Sasha and I managed to hash out a theory. 

Basically, we figure that there are a lot of Leitner books that kind of do different things depending on how much you read of them. S-so we have one on record, A Disappearance, if you read one line, you disappear for a bit. But, if you read the whole book, you disappear from the world for good. 

I read ten pages of The Ninth Life, and I was a cat for ten weeks. Checks out! So we reckon Jon read about five pages, and it’s been three weeks, so…two weeks of Skrunkly to go!

Right, think that’s it. Yeah! So, erm, if you’re looking for a cure for The Ninth Life, just enjoy your time as a kitty and wait it out! U-unless you read the whole book, in which case, erm…I-I really hope you enjoy your life as a cat. 

End recor–Ow! What did I miss off this time? 

[SEVERAL LIGHT THUDS SOUND]

Why are you pawing the book, Jon? I…oh. Right. 

Erm…I think Jon wants it on record that, erm…the book is eleven pages long. And…and I read ten pages. 

[THUD-THUD-THUD!]

Yes, yes, all right, you microwaving your tea saved me from an eternity as a cat! That does not mean I am going to let you continue to ruin perfectly good cups of tea like that!

[A LOUD MIAOW OF PROTEST. MARTIN SIGHS]

Recording ends. 

[CLICK]

[86espresso]

I love you.”

with jack? maybe they have been dating for awhile and she is not good at saying her feelings at all and jack understood that and has say i love you too but maybe after a hard day he just wants to know if she even likes him

wait bye my heart already hurts 😕 I went SO overboard with this. thank you for requesting ! 🩷

☯︎ “I love you.”

IT was safe to say that Jack was your first real relationship.

You’ve done numerous casual things with people, but you instantly knew it was different when Jack came in the picture. He was so patient with you. He never raised his voice at you. He always told you exactly what you needed to hear.

But you were still new to relationships and the whole being a girlfriend thing, so you had problems in expressing how you feel.

You went nonverbal on Jack for a day because you wanted a hug and didn’t know how to ask.

Still, he was gentle and caring, telling you that you’re doing great and that you don’t need to ask for hugs and kisses, or reasons to say ‘I love you’.

You curled up on your couch, watching Jack’s game on the tv while studying. Your first final was the following day, so you stayed home. You glance at the score and wince as the devils were losing 0-5. By that, you already knew that Jack was going to be closed off and tired. The game ended 1-5 with New Jersey’s goal coming from Jesper.

You’d involuntarily distanced yourself from your surroundings the last few days because of your hectic finals schedule and you had no idea how much it hurt Jack. He was asleep before you got to bed and you were awake before he woke up. You barely gave him the time of day without ever realizing it.

Jack rested his forehead against the door of your apartment for a moment, distraught by the loss but also knowing that you wouldn’t be there for him because you were busy and wouldn’t know what to say anyway. He really wanted comfort in your arms tonight but he didn’t think you’d care to even watch his game.

He turned the key in the lock, hearing a soft click and entered, closing the door behind him. You were sat in the couch, as expected, surrounded by books, unfazed at the door opening. Jack’s heart clenched as he saw you there; he missed you so much. The you that would’ve noticed him at the door and would’ve gotten up to kiss him.

Him dropping his hockey bag is what alerted you of his presence. You jump, knocking one of your books to the floor as you whipped around, your body relaxing when you saw that it was only Jack.

“Jack. You scared me.” You clutch your heart but notice the inevitable distress on his face. “Are you okay?”

Jack didn’t have the energy to bother you with his problems, so he just nodded and went to the kitchen for a glass water. He was surprised to see a full glass waiting for him on the counter and heard the soft padding of your footsteps behind him.

“I-uh kept that for you.” You cross your arms and look anywhere but at Jack. He felt himself soften slightly; one of the things he craved was you showing that you cared but being nonchalant about it. He thought it was adorable.

“Thanks, baby.”

He took the glasses and downed it, immediately refilling it to drink again.

“I’m really sorry about the loss.” You say softly, hopping on the counter next to where Jack was standing. You watch him freeze, as if he was surprised.

“You watched? I thought you were busy.”

“I was but I always watch your games, you know that.” You furrow your brows.

Jack nodded. “Right, yeah.”

“Jack? Why are you upset? Like, actually.”

Jack sighed, you may be not be the brightest in reading people but you knew him like the back of your hand.

“[ ], I need to know-” he stops in front of yiu, putting his hands in either side of you, “if you still- uh.”

“If I still?”

Jack felt sick even implying it, so he gave you a pleading look so that you’d complete it for him.

You take a shot at it, “You know I love you, right? More than anything.” You reach up to hold his face. You feel your heart shatter when he looks at you hopefully, as if he forgot that you loved him.

It was then when you realized how negligent you’ve been. Jack loved your attention on him and said too much of it wasn’t a thing.

He just wanted to know if you still loved him.

You hugged him tight and he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter to feel as close as possible.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks off at the end.

“I know you’ve been stressed, baby. But that’s why I’m here, to share it with you. You need to talk to me more. Will you?” He pulls away to look intently into your eyes.

You nod and hold your pinkie out so he links it in yours. He giggles, does the promise and leans forward to kiss you softly.

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

*

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

*

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

[calypsocolada]

how they kissed you for the first time... ft. soshiro, gen, & kafka

authors note: kaiju no. 8 is addictive. i bought the first manga then proceeded to buy the next nine. i'm obsessed with these three <3

cw: light violence

wc: 2.8k

click here for my masterlist

“Burning the midnight oil?” A familiar voice asked. You practically jumped out of your skin as you spun around in your wooden chair. Vice Captain Hoshina was comfortably leaning against the door to the library, eyes amusedly taking you in. 

“Vice Captain!” You gasped, holding a hand over your heart as you quickly gathered up your things. “I-- I apologize, sir.” Hoshina chuckled playfully, pushing off the door as he approached your table.

“No need to apologize, cadet. But you do know sleeping is a part of the job too.”

“I know. I’m just… not tired. Thought I would study a bit.” You responded as Hoshina snickered slightly. He ruffled your hair.

“This late? You’re a real overachiever aren’t you?” He teases as you fix your hair, blushing slightly.

“I just like to be prepared, that's all.” You huffed slightly as Hoshina leaned against the desk beside you, he looked down at you.

“You say you’re not tired but look moments away from falling asleep.” He points out.

“Well… maybe it is getting a little late.” 

Hoshina chuckled again, that same smug look on his face. He nodded, a small hint of concern in his expression. “Yeah, it is. And you should be in bed like everyone else. Besides-”

He stood up straight and pushed himself off the desk, crossing his arms and towering over you for a moment. He returned to his playful smirk and spoke. “-We have drills tomorrow and I can’t have you falling asleep during it, can I?”

No, sir.” You responded, turning and hiding the blush on your face. He chuckled softly and gave you a smug smirk, he was an observant person so of course he saw your blush before you could hide it. 

“Don’t act so embarrassed, I’m just looking out for you.” He chuckled again and that damn smirk grew slightly.

“I’m going, sir.” You answered quickly, loading yourself with books. Hoshina watched you amused until you dropped one. He caught it with ease, cocking his head.

“Do you really need all of these?” He asked as you pouted slightly. 

“I only have the hold on these books for two more days.” You said as he sighed softly, reaching and grabbing over half of what you were holding. 

“Lead the way.” He said as you nodded your head, walking out of the library and down the dark halls of the agency. Your room was a short walk and when you arrived you quickly unlocked the door and Hoshina followed you in, placing your books on your desk.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s just us, you can call me Soshiro.” Hoshina said over his shoulder. You froze, staring at his back as he straightened, his eyes taking in your private quarters. You jumped when your door fell shut behind you and when you turned back Hoshina was looking at you. A smug and satisfied look on his devilishly handsome features. “Go on, I give you permission.” Your mouth goes dry, your lips parting but no sound comes out. He laughs then. He knew the effect he had on you, knew exactly the kind of attack he just dolled out on your nervous system. Hoshina, up to this point, had been nothing but mostly professional around you. The only thing unprofessional before was his constant joking but other than that he had been an angel. Kind of. But you on the other hand fell fast and hard. It was embarrassing and something you would try very hard to take to your grave. “Did I make you nervous?”

“What-- n-no. It’s just-- I’m tired, that's all.” You covered, albeit sloppily. Hoshina raised his head slightly, a brow quirking up.

“Well… I wouldn’t want to keep you from sleeping.” He says, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes as he walked towards you, you moved out of the way of the door and gave him a terse smile. He looked down at you. “You’re actually going to sleep, right? You won’t read those books once I leave?” He jests as you nod your head. 

“I’m going to sleep.” You affirm shakily. He was standing so close. You could move your hand a few inches and you’d be touching him. You could take one step and meet his lips with ease. You looked away quickly at that thought. Ashamed of where your mind could take you. 

“Good night.” He says softly, hand reaching for the door. You’re not entirely sure what came over you but he was so close. Just right there. And walked you back to your room, carrying your things, talked to you like that and you were so weak already for him. You kissed him. It was probably the quickest kiss known to man. You had just gently pressed your lips against his in a quick peck and pulled back faster than you’d ever pulled back. Your face was beat red.

“M-my apologies, sir.” You said, turning and moving away but he caught your wrist. 

“You call that a kiss, Cadet?” He asked and when your wide eyes met his he pulled you back to him and lowered his lips to yours.

-

Your breath caught in your throat as you stopped mid walk into the doorway of your boss’s office. To call it a disaster would be an understatement. For the past week you’d been on a much needed vacation. 

“Y/n?” A voice exclaimed, surprised to your right. You almost dropped your tray of tea. 

“Mr. Narumi, you startled me!” You gasped, turning.

“You’re back a day early?”

“Mr. Hasegawa asked me to.” You said, walking carefully over the discarded boxes of yamazon orders to place the tea on his desk. Gen’s jaw tightened.

“He did, did he?” He asks as you nod your head.

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to clean up your office a bit-”

“No. No, I will take care of it. You should be home, enjoying your last day of vacation.”

“It’s alright, sir,” You reach and grab a trash bag but Gen reaches out, hand gracing yours to grab it away from you. 

“I wanted,” He sighs. “I wanted to clean this place before you got back.” He mumbled, cheeks red in embarrassment. 

“I really don’t mind, Mr. Narumi, it’s my job to help you out.” You say and Gen shakes his head. 

“This is my mess, you can go home early.”

“I just got here, sir.”

“And I’m giving you the rest of the day off, as well as tomorrow. Both paid of course.” He says, crossing his arms. You stare at him for a moment, parting your lips but Gen just shakes his head. “Go on, enjoy it.” He says, turning to start cleaning up his own mess. 

“Alright, thank you sir.” You say, leaving the tray behind as you make your way towards the door, glancing back to see Gen dutifully shoving things into a trash bag. 

An hour later you knock on his door and when he opens the door you hold up take out from his favorite restaurant.

“Before you try and send me home I thought we could have lunch together.” You say and his eyes sharpen before he inevitably steps to the side and lets you in. His office is much cleaner and this time you walk with ease to his desk, he follows behind and grabs two drinks out of a fridge as you pull out the food. “It looks nice in here.”

“Can you pretend you didn’t see the mess this morning?” He asks as you smile.

“What mess?” You ask and watch his face relax as he grabs and drags his chair to sit beside you. 

“I… wanted you to come back unstressed from your vacation but Eiji just had to ruin that.” He says, taking a drink before popping open the container of his food.

“I’m not stressed.” You say, popping open your own container as you feel Gen’s eyes on you.

“Would you like the rest of the week off too? Paid of course.”

“No!” You laugh, shaking your head. “Seriously, sir, I feel fine. It was a good vacation, I feel rested and relaxed. Ready to work.” You say, taking a bite of your food. 

“Are you sure?” He asks as you finally meet his eyes, he looks so worried for you. You furrowed your brow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, he looks back at his food. 

“You deserve better than to be my assistant.” He says and you pout slightly, tilting your head.

“What? I like being your assistant, sir.” You say as Gen sort of sighs, it was clear something heavy was weighing on him. You should’ve known he was acting strange from the first moment you talked with him.

“I don’t want you to be.” He finally says. You stare at him, shocked and slightly hurt. 

“Oh.” You say, the bite of food you were about to eat paused. “I… I apologize. Did I do something to upset you?” Gen’s eyes fly up to yours.

“What! N-no of course not, Y/n.” 

���I can speak with Mr. Hasegawa and have him transfer me to-”

“That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” Gen says, rubbing his forehead in a stressed sort of way.

“What way did you mean it, sir?” You ask. Gen looks down at his food, he then inhales deeply and turns towards you. You hadn’t noticed how close you two were sitting until right now. He was so close, his eyes soft on yours until they dipped low to your lips then snapped back up. Your stomach flipped at that little action. 

“I want… more.” He says and your lips part in surprise. 

“More?”

“More.” He affirms. “May I… kiss you?”

“Kiss?” You echo, eyes sort of wide. He reaches over and tucks your hair out of your face. 

“Yes. May I?” You can’t wipe the shocked expression off your face. Your lips barely form the word yes and he’s leaning in, hand sliding across your cheek to pull you to meet his lips impatiently. He wanted it and needed it.

-

You breathed heavily, staggering to the side, hand placed on debris to keep yourself standing. You were sure you were dead. The jaws of a kaiju opened up to swallow you whole but suddenly you were on the ground, dizzy and unaware of how you got there. But then you saw it. The infamous Kaiju no. 8. You watched as it killed the kaiju that had you in its clutches moments ago. You staggered back when the kaiju turned to face you, fear jolting through you as you fumbled over debris to get away. 

“Y/n! Be careful, you're injured!” The kaiju said as it ran over to you. You screamed, you didn’t know those things could talk! You scrambled to your feet, rushing and dizzily falling as you tried to get to the gun you’d dropped in your fight with the last kaiju. Strong hands gently grabbed you and when you turned you were face to face with kaiju no. 8. You screamed and threw a punch, connecting with its jaw but the creature just stared at you, seemingly hurt until its eyes connected with something behind you. “Oh… shit.” The creature grunted as you stared at it, shell shocked. It’s voice… somehow familiar. Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, the kaiju still had a tight hold on you as you glanced back. The creature was looking at its reflection? There was only so much strangeness you could take as your body practically shut down, the adrenaline that was fueling you moments ago drained out as your legs gave out and you fell backwards into the Kaiju’s arms. “Y/n! S-shit… we have to get you to the infirmary!” The kaiju expressed and in that moment, seconds before you lost consciousness one name left your lips.

“Kafka?” You breathed out completely dumbfounded.

When you woke up it was light, almost a blinding white. You blinked a few times, groggily yawning as you carefully sat up, your entire body ached as you gently stretched out your muscles.

“You’re awake!” A voice to your right exclaimed in a breathy whisper. You turned and there was Kafka, he dropped his coffee and dive bombed towards you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight bear hug. You grunted in surprise as he held you tightly, as if he was keeping you grounded from floating away and never being seen again. Your mind was still a bit foggy on things as you gently pushed Kafka back.

“How long was I out?”

“Days… at least two or three.” He answers, his face clearly worried. It was also clear he hadn’t slept, dark circles had formed beneath his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine… a bit sore.” You answered as he sat on the side of your hospital bed and sighed out in relief. 

“I was worried.” He said, forcing a small smile on his face. He was still worried as you winced slightly, pushing down your blanket and inspecting the bandage across your midsection. His eyes followed your movements and when you looked up at him he had this intensely worried look on his face. 

“I’m fine, Kafka.” You implored as his eyes snapped up to yours. He nodded his head and swallowed. 

“Do you… remember anything? Anything at all?” He asks. You blink a few times, pursing your lips.

“I remember you… being there? Did you save me?” You ask, trying hard to recall what exactly had happened. You retraced your steps as Kafka fumbled through his words.

“I--- yes-- I was… there… technically.” You remembered a kaiju swiping at you, you lost your gun in the scuffle. You recalled it grabbing you up and tossing you towards its open mouth but you never landed in there but rather on your feet on the concrete. You blinked a few times as things started to piece together. 

“I saw… kaiju no. 8.” You said and watched Kafka’s face go pale white. “It…” you trailed off when you remembered its voice, remembering it grab you as you passed out. Remember saying a name. “You…” Your eyes snapped to Kafka’s. He looked stricken, scared and caught all at once. “Kafka… you… you’re-”

“Yes.” Kafka breathes out quickly. Like he’d been dying to tell you. “Yes… that was me.. I’m-”

“A kaiju.” You finished his sentence unblinking. You swallowed as Kafka’s lip trembled and he gave you a curt nod of the head. He looked embarrassed and guilty. 

“I’m a monster… I wanted-- I wanted to wait until you woke up to- to turn myself in because I wanted… no I needed to know you were going to be okay. I needed to tell you that I-”

“Kafka,” You interrupted, shocked by this revelation. He looked at you with a pained expression. 

“I promise I’ll turn myself in I just need to tell you that-”

“No!” You jerked up, wincing in pain.

“C-careful!” Kafka admonished, you reached for him, barely grabbing his shirt.

“Don’t turn yourself in. I-- I don’t want you to.” You stuttered painfully. Kafka’s lips parted wordlessly. 

“What? I was sure you would want me to…”

“That’s the last thing I want.” You said, trying to wrap your head around this all. You tighten the hold on his shirt and look at him. “They would… kill you and turn you into a weapon, Kafka.” You say as Kafka looks down, nodding his head.

“I know that.”

“And you think I would want that for you?” You hissed as his eyes snap back up to yours, a shocked expression on his face.

“You… hate kaiju.”

“I don’t hate you. No matter what you are.” You said, yanking his shirt towards you as you wrapped him in a tight hug. “Don’t you dare turn yourself in.” You warned, he was stiff in your arms for only a few seconds before he completely melted, the fear and anxiety of you possibly hating him kept him up for days. He wrapped you in a hug and you felt him breathe out and relax, hands sliding across your back, gently gripping your shirt as he held onto you. You could tell then that he’d really expected a different outcome. He’d expected you to tell him to turn himself in. When you pulled back to say something his mouth pressed against yours, stopping your words and your thoughts. His arms were still around you as he kissed you tentatively.

[storiesoflilies]

based on this request for @ichore <3

satoru gojo was acutely attuned to the air of melancholy.

more specifically, when it was hers.

although he exuded flashiness and a sort of fashionable confidence, made from all shades of purples and reds, there was an underlying natural blue to tie it all together. above all, satoru understood that particular color and all of its woes. it haunted his eyes, slowly seeped through the fabric of all his clothes, and stained his nails with a cold bite of loneliness when everything became too much for him to bear.

and because he knew exactly how it weaved its toxic web of sadness, satoru knew exactly what he needed to do to stop it from getting any worse.

unfortunately, his love wasn’t so good at it.

it would start with a long, aching sort of sigh and a slow stretching of her limbs still heavy from sleep. she wouldn’t say a word, sitting at the edge of the bed like she’d lived through a thousand years and more. satoru quirked an eyebrow at her, reading glasses balanced on the tip of his nose, and winced as her bones snapped and crackled like the bent spine of his book.

“you alright there?” he broached, although he knew already that she wasn’t really.

of course he knew.

you see, there was that red ribbon tying them together in a pretty bow. satoru would always know.

she only hummed once, blinked twice, then sighed again before pulling herself out of bed and clicking the bathroom door shut on him and the whole world. satoru pinched the side of his glasses to take them off, tiredly rubbed some life back into his dry eyes, before purposely getting up with a single-minded mission on his mind.

make his love smile again.

to polish the sole ardor of his heart into a sparkling diamond, brighter than the sun, brighter than everything in the whole world.

but the sight of her all crumpled up on the cold tiles made his heart split and crack.

satoru cooed, “oh, my pretty girl. what’s happened to you?”

his knees creaked as he squatted down to her, and she sniffled, “i think i’m not doing so well.”

“no? my poor baby, but you need to tell me why.”

she stifled a sob, wiping a tear with the back of her hand. satoru instinctively sat down and curved his body over her like a gentle weeping willow. he hushed her softly, hoping it would be a soothing wind easing through the leaves of her mind.

and she did tell him, in a sopping mess of salt and crisscrossed lines of blue doubt. she told him how she felt lost, floating around in a giant hot air balloon that wasn’t going anywhere. how she didn’t understand why someone like him was with a silly girl like her. how it was so hard for her to just say how she was felt, because the words were just so heavy and difficult to even push past her lips.

“it’s not your fault, toru,” she said quietly, a shameful whisper. “but i just don’t understand how to tell you sometimes.”

“well… i think you did perfectly there, baby,” satoru smiled, his hand brushing featherlight touches on her forearm.

she perked up a little at that. “you think so?”

“i know so.”

the ghost of a puppy smile made her lip quirk upwards, and satoru affectionately tapped her nose. “let me run you a bath.”

she nodded wordlessly and let him guide her as always, allowing him to delicately peel her clothes from her skin. she melted into his hands as he lowered her into the gentle embrace of the pearly bubbles floating atop the warm water, letting him carefully wash away the blue melancholy of her soul.

the sheer amount of trust she had in satoru made him seriously swoon sometimes.

and while he may not always be able to scrub away all the stains of his own blues.

hers?

satoru would always wash out it all out.

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[junislqve]

⟡ stay in my memories

when you had finally started to accept your past, it comes back to haunt you

pairs ex!jake + reader content angst kissing jake being toxic wordcount 1404 — find my other works

note ending is highkey rushed and was supposed to be happy, but this is self indulgent, so! i also listened to memories an ungodly amount while writing this

YOU HUFFED AS YOUR DOORBELL RANG FOR THE SECOND TIME. it was 11pm. a few minutes ago, your friend had just left after picking up her cat from the week-long vacation she had with her boyfriend. you had sensed she’d forgotten something.

when it rang once more, you begrudgingly stood up dragging your legs to the front door. the lights to your small living room was already off save for one that was only enough to illuminate the front door.

you sigh as the door click open, “you really need to stop forget-” 

“hi, babyy” 

your heart dropped. not because of how the man in front of you accidentally stumbled and now practically has his boy weight supported by you, and also somehow not because of how his hands circle your body and rest on your waist like how it used to.

it was his voice that did. 

his voice that you swore on everything you would never want to hear again. hating how it sounded so much you’d bail on any man that sounded similar to him or had his accent.

how could you not when only a few simple words uttered with that voice had your mind reeling? repeating the same heart wrenching sentence in your head over and over again, it engraved itself.

it was pouring outside. you’ve been very stuffed with schoolwork and your finals coming up. papers spread out everywhere on your table and books scattered on your bedsides and floor. 

you felt a tickle on your ankle and watched as your dog rubbed its side on your body, begging for attention. you chuckle, dropping your pen and bending down to pick her up. sitting her on your lap as you rubbed its back. 

“i’m sorry, i just need to finish this paper and i’ll promise i’ll give you some attention, okay?” you coo at her, it hung her head low but complied, laying her head on your lap. 

a moment later, your phone lit up. you stared at the caller and with no hesitation immediately picked it up, a smile growing on your face, “hi, babe-”

“let’s break up”

you stopped. the pouring rain seemed to have hushed in a matter of seconds, the air around you felt constricted. your dog stayed silent, looking up at you in confusion.

“what?” 

“it’s just going to be hard keeping up our relationship in the long run. i’m graduating and you still have two years” 

“so?”

“so i don’t want to hold each other back” he sounded frustrated. 

“so that’s it?” you ask, voice heavy. “you’re going to leave me because you don’t want to wait two years for me?”

“you’re twisting my words”

“that’s exactly what you said, jake” 

“i’m sorry”

no he’s not. 

“no, you’re not” you say, you wait for a second too long before hanging up. you damn well know he’s not, because if he was you wouldn’t be crying as hard as you are right now. your chest wouldn’t have felt as painful as it does.

there was nothing but confusion that clouded your mind the following days. you were trying to reason with yourself why he’d ever break up with you. 

your boyfriend is the sweetest yet most comforting guy you’ve ever known. or at least, was. you thought there must be something wrong with you.

everything reminded you of him. back then, you thought you hit the lottery when he landed as your first love as well as your first boyfriend. you never doubted your relationship, he was always there for you whenever you needed him and you never turned him down if he needed a shoulder. 

every waking moment after the breakup felt plain to you. habits and hobbies turned more of a chore, some of the things you did were picked up from his habits.

you were quiet about your breakup. it took a total of 13 days until anyone found out. your friends having to fish it out of you when they felt how quiet and more zoned out you’ve become.

for three months, jake’s name was not allowed to be uttered. it was a rule your friend made. she knew anything correlated to him could tip you off, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

she didn’t know that you’d still visit his old album from time to time just to feel something. to remember all the ways he loved you and all the ways he wasn’t there to, anymore.

you can’t let go the feeling of how he would hug you, all the times he would kiss you giggles filling out every corner of the room. the moments he’d lay on the bed with you, whispering sweet nothings lulling you to sleep.

you still can feel all of that, a ghost of the past you were never willing to let go.

you wished time could heal all of you completely. because now when you swore you have finally started to move on, he has his body slumped on yours, breath fanning your neck.

“jake?” you curse yourself from how quiet it came out. your voice wavering, your breath shallow before you slowly walk in, his body still slumped on yours.

he hummed, “i missed you” he dug his head deeper into your neck, making you physically sick.

you tug him off, stabling him by his shoulders and you wished you didn’t. you could see his state now. his hair was all messed up, face tinted red from drinking and he had that pout. his eyes attempting to blink itself awake as he looks at you through sleepy eyes.

“jake” you say again, finding your voice. that pout of his grew at your tone.

“don’t you miss me?” he asks, voice so soft you almost gave in. his hands still hover on your waist and you’d lie if you said you weren’t fully aware of it. 

“i’ll grab you some water” you say, walking out of his reach. the heat from his body slowly seeping away as you walk to grab a glass of water.

you turn back to see him sat on the couch, his head laying on the arm rest, legs sprawled sideways. tapping him on the shoulder, his eyes crease open along with that smile of his. your heart clenched.

he grabs the cup and downs it in one gulp, “thank you” he says quietly.

when you were about to grab it and walk back to the kitchen, jake had tugged your shirt causing you to topple on top of him on the couch. 

“you haven’t said you missed me back” he said, head buried in your hair, breathing you in. 

you gathered all of you to push against him and stand up, “jake, stop”

“i know you’re sober”

it barely showed, but you could see the slight waver of his smile.

“i miss you” he says for the third time tonight, eyes open but still slightly glazed.

“you’re being selfish” tears start to well up. it’s overwhelming to say the least. how could he just show up at your doorstep months later giving you false hope? after everything he’s made you go through.

“i know” he starts, sitting up slightly, “and i know i have no right to come back here begging for you to come back. but i miss you”

“you should leave” you look away.

“please”

“jake”

“i’m sorry” he says, “but i’ll do better this time”

maybe it was those eyes that convinced you, or the sliver of sincerity you pretended to see in his eyes or maybe once again it was that voice that allured you. but you gave in. 

he brought you in for a kiss. one that you’ve undoubtedly miss all these months of being apart. jake just knew how to bring you back into his arms. he held you all night long and between the kiss and the cuddling, you dozed into a sleep you haven’t felt for months.

you shifted, you peek at the light hitting your eyes from the slip of the curtains. 

you rolled over, the space beside you, cold. 

you sat up, the blanket falling off your body as you looked around the living room. trying to grasp at the hazy memory of last night.

the table in front of the couch is neat. when your eyes focused there was a scrap of paper placed on it.

‘i don’t deserve you, i’m sorry

-love, j’

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

ㅤㅤmike schmidt x nanny!f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.5k

summary: juggling your role as abby's nanny, tensions rise as mike's fixation on the past leads to a heated argument between the two of you. unspoken emotions linger, pushing both you and mike to the breaking point.

warnings: some arguing, tension, piv, oral (reader receiving)

**dividers made by @saradika xx

A soft knock is enough for Mike to stir in his sleep but not enough to wake him. Abby is drawing happily in her room, content for now after you bribed her with chicken nuggets and a lengthy story time to come after. She’s been missing Mike. And she’s been wanting to go to work with him. You’re not sure how much longer you can tempt her to stay at home instead of going to the pizzeria. 

You close the door, a soft click following suit. He’s still sound asleep, completely unaware of your nearing presence. He asked you to wake him up. But it’s hard when he looks so peaceful. The sounds of birds and crickets reach your ear. You sigh. How long was he going to chase the past?

“Mike,” you say gently. “Time to go.” 

His brows furrow, a murmur falling from his lips. With a smile you shake your head, the bed creaks as you take a seat. “Come on dummy,” you pinch his cheek and his eyelids flutter. “You’re going to be late.”

“So close,” he mutters, his head moving to rest on your lap. Your heart jumps. All you want to do is thread your fingers through his hair and keep him exactly where he is but you know it’s not likely. As soon as he’s fully awake he’ll pull up his walls. “Can you help me take off my poster from the ceiling?”

As he talks his lips move above your thigh, the soft fabric of your sweats leaving little to the imagination. “Why?”

“Gonna take it to work,” his voice is hoarse with sleep. 

A sudden annoyance prickles over your skin, heat building in your stomach— Again with the dreams. Again with wanting to change the past. You’ve been working for him for months now (though can you really say you’ve been working for him when he hasn’t been paying you?) and he’s always been the same. You understand. You really do. But Garett isn’t here anymore, Abby is—you are. 

“No, Mike,” you say, your eyes following his sharp jawline dusted with a bit of stubble. He stirs a bit, legs moving underneath the covers one leg pops out. You swallow. It’s unbelievable the things he doesn’t notice about the people around him. His eyes finally open and you lean back, you’re not a fan of the angle. “Look, the poster is on the damn ceiling. What do you want me to do? Carry you on my shoulders?” 

“I was thinking the opposite.”

“Whatever you have in mind my answer is still no,” you eye the book on the bedside table. “You shouldn’t be sleeping on the job, you know that.”

“It’s called decorating,” he answers with a hint of annoyance laced into his voice. Well, he’s not the only one. He peels himself away from your lap and leans against the wall, you miss the heat of him already. “Besides what do you care about what I do during the job?”

“That place gives me the creeps. I’d prefer it if you’re fully awake.”

Mike sighs and stretches, the soft fabric of his shirt sliding up, a sliver of skin shows. Your knees brush against one another. It almost feels like you’re kids just hanging out with the parents still sleeping. It’s reminiscent, in a way. He runs a band over his face. 

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Too late for that.” 

“I’ll pay you with my next paycheck promise.”

You turn to him, eyes narrowing, “Don’t change the subject. You know I don’t care about any of that at this point. It’s been months, Mike. I would be gone if that was what I only cared about.”

He seems distraught by your answer, even more so than normal. “I... I know that. But you're always here, looking after Abby, taking care of the house. . . I want you to have a life and not be stuck here for Abby’s sake.” 

Ouch. Have a life? You don’t think Mike realizes that he basically shoved a knife in your chest. 

You slide off of the bed, your heart beats quick, a bit too quick for comfort. “Sorry that me helping out is a sign that I have nothing better to do,” you snap. You hear the start of an apology escaping his lips, both feet touching the ground as he contemplates if he should get up or not. “And if you’re so guilty about me being here maybe you should be here yourself.”

The regret settles even before you leave the room. You know he’s going to be thinking about what you said and twist it into the worst possible meaning his brain can fathom—which can be quite dark knowing Mike. 

You’re halfway down the hall, heading to the kitchen when Mike catches up to you. He takes hold of your wrist, slightly tugging you back until he’s got your full attention. You give it to him. Eyes fluttering as you find it hard to look into his eyes. He’s too expressive. You hate being able to see every emotion flickering in them, and likeways you’re scared he can read you just as clearly. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Oh, you’ve never heard him this mad before. Your eyes drop to where he’s holding you, his fingers an iron vice around your wrist. Your pulse races, the tips of your ears warm. His gaze follows where you’re staring, you expect him to let go but he doesn’t, instead, he squeezes harder, his thumb following the vein on the inside of your wrist. “Is this why you’re here? To play hero to my life?” 

Your eyes narrow, “Fuck off, Mike,” you yank your wrist away, a bit of skin catching on his nail. It stings. “Just go to work. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

You had just dropped off Abby to school and promptly doing the dishes before you head out. You didn’t need to wash the dishes perse, but you were hoping Mike would show up before you left. Alas, it was almost noon, and still no signs of him. Not even a phone call. Which he would usually do if he was coming back later than normal. 

You two did end the conversation quite nastily, so you guess you shouldn’t be too surprised that he hasn’t shown up, hoping that you’d leave before he came back. 

A bit too aggressively, you knead the sponge until suds appear. He’s a moron. A complete idiot to think that you were only around just out of pity. His words stung and biting back probably wasn’t the best solution. Shaking your head, you grab a plate and rub it hard enough to potentially peel off the enamel coating. 

“Stupid,” you murmur, finding a bit of relief in letting the words slip. “Stupid, idiot, moron—” 

“You shouldn’t do the dishes if it makes you that angry.” 

Your turn with a jerk, “Mike!” A plate slips, crashing into the sink, without even thinking another cuss drops from your mouth and you dunk your hand into the water to grab it. Just as your fingers graze the sharp pointed ceramic, Mike yanks your hand out of the water. 

“Are you crazy?” he says surprisingly calm, as if he’s to tired to raise his voice or show panic within the words. “Just leave it, I’ll clean it later.” 

Your chest heaves, he holds your wrist vastly differently compared to last night. Eyes wide, you feel the rise and fall of your chest, his gaze momentarily follows the movement before sliding his hand to your elbow. A shudder runs up your spine, your breath coming in short pants, your fingers curl into your palm. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs letting go. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You’re still holding me, Mike.” He looks tired. The skin under his eyes darker than usual, he even looks a bit beat up. Closing his lips, he swallows thickly and lets go. Your hands are still dripping water, you wipe them dry against your shirt. “Rough night?” 

He shakes his head, “No. Just the normal. Dreams were a bit rougher than usual.” 

“You took your poster then?” 

His lips press into a thin line and he takes a seat. Fighting the urge to close your eyes, you bring out a bowl, milk, and stale store-brand froot loops. His lips tentatively twitch into a small smile. 

“It’s Abby you’re taking care of,” he says. “I can look after myself.” 

“Can you?” 

He ignores the subtle bite in your remark and pours himself a bowl of cereal. He doesn’t eat immediately, letting the colorful hoops sit there for a while, he clears his throat. “I got my paycheck.” 

“Congrats.” 

“I can pay you.” 

“I guess you can.” 

His eyes flash, brows furrowing, “Why are you being so difficult?” 

“I’m—” Once again his words hit a nerve. Difficult. Something you often heard right before people left you. Difficult difficult difficult. “I’m not.” 

Mike shifts and stands straighter, your eyes drift to the cereal—must be soggy as hell now. “I know,” he says barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I know you’re not. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” You lie. “And about the other thing, you can pay me later. Get Abby a new set of crayons, she’s going so fast through those things that I’m scared she’s just swallowing them,” you smile weakly as you get up. “I’ll be back before your shift, okay? And I think I should take some time off for a little while.” 

“What?” Mike stands up with you, his shoulders rise, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “Why? Is. . . Is it because of last night? I’m—”

“You’re sorry I know,” you sigh. “It has nothing to do with you. I just. . . I just need to think for a while. I. . just a day, okay, just give me a day.” 

His demeanor changes, his shoulders drop, his eyes grow soft. He nods and you take that as your cue to leave. You grab your back off the couch and he follows you to the hallway. With your hand around the doorknob, you hear him one more time. 

“I care about you, you know,” he calls out and you swear you hear the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I don’t show it but I do.”  

You don’t know how to answer him without bursting like a bubble, exposing every setting emotion that rolls in your gut. Your fingers tighten around the metal and you nod without looking. 

“Red crayon, please.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, a small smile playing on your lips, “Abby, it’s literally right in front of you.” She just shrugs and extends her tiny palm towards you. “Fine you little artist, here you go.” 

You place the crayon in her open palm, she slowly closes her fingers around it and starts coloring vigorously. With a smile, your eyes move back to the TV, you’re not sure what’s happening on the screen. The picture on the screen blurs a little, static growing and growing until a soft creak of the floor catches your attention. You turn to see Mike leaning against the doorframe. You wonder how long he’s been there, watching you and his sister occupy the normalcy of the living room. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

Abby doesn’t bother to look up, too entranced in her drawing. Mike sighs as his gaze lingers on his sister. “Abby can you give us a minute?” 

She blinks before she looks up, suddenly startled, her curious eyes flits between the two of you. “Are you two gonna fight?” 

“No, Abby,” Mike answers, exasperated.”We’re not going to fight. Just. . . talk.” 

Surprisingly Abby leaves without much protest. She gathers her things and heads to her room, while walking past Mike, he softly ruffles her air. She sticks her tongue out and glares at him before disappearing completely. His face falls a bit upon meeting your gaze. You pat the empty seat next to you but he ends up sitting on the coffee table instead, your knees brushing together, he levels you with a soft look. 

“She’s going to ask questions you know.” 

“I don’t care,” he says hastily. “I do think we need to talk.” 

“Fine then. . . talk.” 

He seems unsure of himself now, “I know you’re mad about me because of what I said but I didn’t mean it—” 

“It’s not that,” you cut in. “Sure I was hurt, but that’s not what frustrates me about you, Mike. You have to let go. . . of him. He’s gone, Abby’s here.” 

He suddenly stands up, taking you by surprise, heads towards the kitchen. Your pulse rises as your eyes remain glued to the TV. In the distance, you hear him, “You don’t get to say that to me,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “You don’t know what it’s like.” 

You hear the fridge door opening and closing. You know he’s doing it simply to get away from you, from what you’re saying. You follow him, anger warming your cheeks, you find him leaning back against the kitchen counter, knuckles turned white while holding the edge. 

“So just because I didn’t lose a sibling I don’t get to talk about it?” you scoff. “That’s bullshit.”

“You don’t know what’s it like to lose someone and for it to be out of your control.” He’s shaking slightly, shoulders rounding as he speaks. “I need to know who did it. And I’m close, so fucking close.” 

You shake your head and finally, with a burst of bravery, you hold his face between your hands. His mouth closes shut. Your chest feels as if someone filled it to the brim with rocks. It’s heavy and overwhelming. You can barely breathe as you fix your gaze on him. Without even realizing you begin to stroke the apple of his cheeks, you swear he leans into your touch, your bodies growing closer. 

“Listen to me, Mike,” your voice trembles. “If you don’t stop you’ll end up losing everyone who cares about you.” 

His hand closes over yours, “Does that include you too?” 

“What if it did?” 

“I can’t. . .” he chokes. “I can’t stop.” 

You pull away, body feeling chilled in his absence. You blink away the tears, swallow the persistent knot in your throat. It was an empty threat. You know you won’t leave, no matter how insistently you implied that you might. “Then I think you should go. You’re going to miss your shift.” 

“Fuck my shift.” 

You feel the soft touch of his lips. It grows violent, smothering. You moan eagerly into his mouth, your wrist caught between his fingers, he pulls you closer. Mike slips his tongue between your lips and tastes you eagerly. Arousal pools between your legs, your stomach bottoming out as he whimpers and licks himself deeper into you. You melt against him. Your nipples tight and tingling with every lick. 

His hand curls around the back of your neck, the gentle pressure making you break away, “Mike—” you whisper, eyes teary. He licks the seam of your lips and teases your bottom lip with his teeth. Slack-jawed, you tilt your head back, he eagerly dips down and closes his lips around your neck. “Take me to your room.” 

He’s gentle. So painfully gentle that you fear your heart might stop at any given moment. The back of his fingers trace the contours of your body slowly, gooseflesh rising in his wake, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes deep breaths as he lifts your shirt. Your eyes roll when his hands immediately cup both your breasts, thumbs toying with your pebbled nipples. The pads of his thumbs smooth over them slowly, it’s almost ticklish. A shiver runs up your spine and you gasp, he sucks the air that escapes your lungs, slanting his lips over yours. 

The seam of your panties gather with slick. You desperately rub your thighs together. Heat blossoms over patches of skin, Mike sucks on your bottom lip and toys with the waistband of your sweats. “Can I taste you?” 

“Yes,” you pant, the thought of his tongue parting you making you near delirious. Your breath hitches. 

He gives your cheek a quick peck, “You have to get on the floor. My bed is too loud.” 

“Just how hard are you planning to fuck me?” 

His eyes darken, “Until you’re a mess.”  

You drop to the ground, Mike following you close with kisses down the column of your neck. Your legs spread and he tugs down your sweats, revealing your soaked cunt. His chest heaves. You follow the movement of his tongue as it swipes over his bottom lip, his thumb dips between your folds and moves up to brush over your clit. Your legs twitch, electricity coursing over your burning skin. 

“You have to keep quiet,” he groans, fingers slipping inside. Your head drops back, your back arches. A violent breath of air rips from your lungs and before it can become louder, you cover your mouth with both hands. “Good,” he murmurs, breath tickling your throbbing clit. Mike tentatively closes his lips around it, sucking, he pushes his fingers deeper. 

Your throat constructs in of itself. Waves of pleasure washing over you like warm grains of sand. The sounds coming out of you are downright sinful and with each thrust of his fingers it gets louder. Your insides clench around him and at the same time he curls his fingers, your eyes squeeze shut, your lips moving against the inside of your hand. Too good. It feels too good. 

Without even noticing you had begun to grind your hips, the sensitive bundle of nerves pressing against his mouth harder. Mike moans wantonly into you, the sound coming out muffled. He moves his head side to side and flattens his tongue over your clit. Your fingers delve into the soft locks as you pull him closer.

He delves his tongue back and forth, rougher this time, faster. Your body goes rigid, forcing you to cry out into your hands as your orgasm takes you over. Sudden sparks of pleasure clash throughout your body, intensifying to unbelievable heights as he plays with your swollen nub. His mouth and fingers move endlessly until you’re gasping for air, shattered remnants of your desperate pleas mashed against your palm. 

Mike glances up, eyes wild yet passionate with a cheshire-cat grin. His lips and jaw are soaked, glistening under the dim light. You feel your entire body motionless. He withdraws his fingers, licking them off one by one, he moves up your body and pushes his fingers between your lips. You swirl your tongue around them feverishly. Your cheeks unnaturally warm and heart thrumming fast against your ribcage. 

He pulls his fingers out, gently cupping the underside of your chin, he rolls his hips. Your breath catches at the feel of his cock against your sopping core, you squeeze his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons on his skin. 

Mike doesn’t bother to remove his clothes, instead, he slides his hand between your bodies and under his pants, pulling out his dripping cock, he aligns himself with your core. He pushes into you inch by inch, the sounds you make getting louder and louder—Mike covers your mouth with his hand. “‘Gotta keep silent,” he breathes into your skin. 

You nod frantically, your gasp bouncing off of his palm when he bottoms out. A loud groan escapes his lips, eyes meeting yours as his lips part. At the sight you clench around him, a fresh gush of wetness coating his cock.

Mike moves slowly inside you, finding a deep, rhythmic, steady rhythm that carries you towards bliss. His hips sway sensually, his thrusts pushing against the deepest parts of you. His hands tangle into your hair, and his eyes meet yours with a softened gaze. His breath is at your neck, and a guttural moan escapes his lips as he moves against you.

“Does—Does it feel good?” you whimper.

“Feels amazing,” he breathes into your open mouth, hips drilling into you, relentless. “You’re so fucking wet—” 

He guides both of your hands up your chest to your breasts, holding them subtly as you both explore each other’s bodies, his lips finding your neck and shoulders. Your fingers begin to move deftly over your hardened nipples. 

Breaking eye contact, he moves his lips down your neck, pressing them against your collarbone. His hips move faster now, and his hands roam over your body. You squeeze your breasts as a wave of pleasure washes over you, spilling out uncontrolled moans and cries that are subdued by his mouth above yours. He swallows the sounds you make. 

He presses himself in deeper, hips slamming into yours, you feel yourself quickly barreling to the edge. Your eyes tear up and his hand slips away from your mouth, down to your waist. You claw at his back, your toes curling. Mike breathes heavily against your skin, and his thrusts grow desperate. You lock eyes with him one last time before you come undone in his arms, your orgasm crashing around him—He quickly pulls out, making your breath hitch painfully at the loss of contact, he comes over your stomach. Cock sliding over the sweat-soaked skin. 

“Shit,” he grunts. “Fuck—That. . . that felt amazing.” 

Before you can answer he kisses you deeply. His tongue dances above yours, his hips still softly rolling as his cock softens. “Don’t go,” he whispers into your mouth, kissing you again. “Please don’t go.” 

You thread your fingers into the damp locks that are scattered over the back of his head, you tug gently, his eyes fluttering for a moment, a puff of air sensually leaving his lips. 

“I won’t,” you answer, nipping the corner of his chin. “Not sure I could even if I tried.” 

[diorctrl]

KISS MY LIPS yang jungwon x reader

𓂂 ˳ mean girl reader x class president jungwon fluff warnings: intentional lower case, reader is lowkey a bimbo

the air from the air conditioning of the class room blew on him, the teachers knowledge filling him as he wrote down his notes, he took a peek at the clock only 48 more minutes of class.

he went back to writing his notes but was distracted by the loud sound of the classroom door shutting, he didn’t have to look to know who it was, it was obvious.

the sound of his teachers voice is what makes him look up. “l/n, how wonderful it is for you to show up.” he looks at the clock. “yep, like always late, care to explain why?”

jungwon finally turns around to take a look at you in all your glory, your hair in a half up half down topping it off with a miumiu head band, your pink glossy lips and light sparkly eye shadow, your white leg warmers with and your mary janes with pink ribbons, he knows exactly why your late, no one puts this much effort into how they look and can show up to school early.

his gaze follows you as you walk up to your teacher at the front of the classroom, your mary janes clicking on the floor, you fan your face before speaking, “sir,I have a completely reasonable reason to be late today.” you stop right in front of jungwons desk, your perfume filling his nose she smells good like always.

your teacher crosses his arms while looking down at you. “right, and what’s that?”

jungwon eyebrows raise as he watches you pat out your outfit like you’re preparing to say the most tragic story ever known to man kind.

“okay, so first I woke up sorta late, not gonna lie but that’s beside the point.” you start waving your hands. “at first I thought my chauffeur was late because that’s what my dad wrote on the bored today since he couldn’t actually tell me when I woke up because he’s never home, you know CEO stuff, but you already know that, BUT, you’re never gonna believe this.” you talk like you’re gossiping. “he actually didn’t show up at all, all because his wife went into labour, can you believe her, how could she?” you ramble.

your teacher nods his head,entertaining you, “oh yeah, how could she.”

you smile. “I knew you would understand, I’ve had a very bad morning as you can see, I couldn’t even get my morning smoothie, so please don’t get mad me.”

a laugh was heard from someone in class, you snap your head towards them and the sweet smile that you had turned into the most bitchy face, that jungwon has seen multiple times.

“what’s so funny?” you ask the laughing girl, your mean gaze scans her, “you should be laughing at the tacky shoes on your feet.”

the girl goes quite, your hard gaze travels to jungwon, softening slightly before hardening quickly after. “that’s what I thought.” you finish before turning to your teacher. “am I free to sit sir?”

he lets out a sigh. “yes, you can go sit.”

you smile before, digging into your bag and pulling out a two 10000 won bills and putting in his shirt pocket. “buy yourself a nice lunch sir.” you pat his shoulder before shuffling to your seat at the back.

the person sitting beside jungwon leans in to him, “she’s never gonna graduate.” they say before leaning back but he doesn’t reply.

the rest of the class is haze and the sound of bells is what snaps jungwon out of it, he picks up his books, the sound of feet scurrying out the class fills his ears.

he makes his way out the class and down the hallway but is stoped by a familiar voice.

“Mr president!” you say teasingly, walking up to the boy, who looks down at you with amusement.

“you were really gonna leave me huh?” you say putting his arm over your shoulder as you guys continue to walk down the hallway.

he doesn’t respond just laughs shaking his head, “did you hear about the morning i had today? i still can’t believe it.”

“i think the whole class heard it yn.” he said leaning against the lockers beside yours.

“oh.” you pause for a minute, before continuing. “oh, and i can’t believe the audacity of that girl in class today to laugh at me? me? i could buy her.”

you take out the books that you need for your next class, “i’d have to ask for dad’s permission first though.” you say turning to your boyfriend rolling your eyes.

“oh how dreadful.” he says sarcastically he says taking your books from your hand and kissing your cheek as you close your locker.

“walk me to class?” you ask.

“always.” he replies.

“kiss me.”

he kisses your cheek.

“my lips dummy.”

taglist: @doublasting

[ham1lton]

47 with FA14 please :)

047. the inside of an elevator that won’t move w/ FA14.

— part of a series of drabbles! <3

you were incredibly annoyed. so annoyed in fact, that you were this close to quitting this job. your very cushy hybrid job which paid incredible and gave you your own office even though you mostly worked from home. toto, your boss, had given you the alonso case which meant that you’d be working through your sister’s wedding. the same wedding you’d booked off months ago.

you get in the elevator, slightly fuming, as an older man also got in the elevator with you. he turns to you.

“floor three please.” he asks politely, as you’re standing next to the buttons. you seethe but press the button for him.

as the two of you stand in silence, the elevator suddenly stops. you give each other a panicked look. the silence between the two of you is heavy, only broken by the occasional faint hum of the elevator’s machinery. you click the help button and after a short conversation with the very unhelpful guy on the other end, you’re told help will arrive in half an hour.

“great! just what i fucking needed.” you mutter. he turns to you. “what? like this is a great situation for you either?”

“no, obviously not.” he says, in very accented english.

“so don’t give me that look.” you roll your eyes.

he raises his hands defensively. "okay, okay. truce?"

you sigh, realizing you're being unfair. it’s not like it’s his fault. "yeah, sorry. it's just been a really bad day."

"tell me about it," he says, leaning against the elevator wall. "what’s got you so worked up?"

"my boss just dumped this huge case on me last minute," you say, frustration bubbling up again. "it’s for this big client, alonso or something. now i have to miss my holiday because of it. i had the time off booked for months."

he raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "alonso? that's tough."

"yeah, and all because some big shot can't finalize a business contract on time," you grumble. “what’s so important about this stupid contract anyways?”

he looks away, as if contemplating something. "sounds like a real pain. what do you do, exactly?"

"i'm a corporate lawyer. and you?"

he hesitates for a moment before answering, "i'm... in business. finance, mostly."

you roll your eyes. "well, mr. finance, at least you’re not stuck working on a weekend for some unreasonable client."

the silence that follows feels heavier than before, and he shifts uncomfortably. "yeah, must be tough," he says quietly.

you frown, feeling slightly guilty for venting so much. "sorry, i didn't mean to unload on you. it's just been a lot."

he nods, offering a small, understanding smile. "i get it. sometimes things don’t go the way we planned."

you both fall silent for a second, the hum of the elevator the only sound, as you wait for help to arrive. then, as if compelled to fill the void, you continue. "it's just... my sister's wedding this weekend. i've been looking forward to it for months. and now, because of this contract, i'm going to miss it. i don't even know why it's so urgent."

he shifts again, looking like he wants to say something but isn't sure if he should. "maybe the client has their reasons," he offers carefully. "not that it makes it any easier for you."

"yeah, well, whoever they are, i hope their business crashes and burns," you mutter darkly. "no contract is worth missing something so important."

there's another pause before he speaks again, his voice softer this time. "sometimes, it's hard to see the bigger picture when you're in the thick of it."

you look at him, a hint of curiosity mixed with your frustration. "you sound like you know a lot about this."

he gives a half-smile as he shrugs, almost rueful. "more than i'd like to admit."

before you can ask more, the elevator jerks and starts moving again. you both breathe a sigh of relief as the doors slide open. he gestures for you to go first. "after you."

as you step out, you glance back at him. "thanks for listening. and sorry for the rant."

"anytime," he says, his smile warm but his eyes holding a hint of something you can't quite place. "good luck with that contract. and i hope you find a way to make it to your sister's wedding."

"thanks," you say, still feeling a bit unsettled as you walk away, wondering why his understanding smile seemed to hold more weight than a simple stranger's sympathy.

later that evening, as you’re buried in paperwork, your phone buzzes with an email notification. it's from toto. you open it, and your heart skips a beat.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

subject: urgent update on alonso case

dear l/n,

i have some unexpected news regarding the alonso contract. the client personally requested to change the deadline, granting you the weekend off. i know this is a surprise, but please take the weekend to attend your sister's wedding.

best,

toto.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

your mind races as you read the email again. how did the client know about your situation? you stare at the screen, the pieces slowly clicking into place. the man from the elevator—the one who listened so intently, who seemed to know more than he let on—he must be connected to alonso.

the realisation brings a mix of emotions: relief, slight embarrassment, gratitude, and a touch of something warmer. you can't help but smile, remembering his kind eyes and supportive words. your phone beeps again.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

subject: dinner invitation

dear y/n,

i hope this message finds you well. i wanted to extend an invitation for dinner sometime this week. it would be a pleasure to meet in person and discuss matters beyond business.

please let me know if you're interested and i hope you enjoy the wedding.

warm regards,

fernando alonso.

ceo of alonso corp.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

author’s note: i don’t actually write for fernando but this was calling to me so i decided to fulfil the prompt. i hope this isn’t too ooc. my bad. also reader and ceo!alonso go on the date and fall in love and the week before their wedding he pretends to get her on a contract all over again bc he thinks its funny.

[devildomditzy]

Pity Party

In which you pretend to forget Mammon’s birthday and Mammon pretends he’s not upset

no warning or tags, a quick birthday drabble for the birthday boy <3

——————————————————————————

He’s been practically bouncing off the walls all week. Even if he didn’t explicitly say, it was obvious what had him worked up.

It was his birthday tomorrow, something you knew very well in fact. You had planned down to the minute exactly how you and him were going to spend the day (or more so where you were allowing him to drag you throughout the town) already telling his brothers he’s off limits for the upcoming 24 hours.

He’s been dropping hints like mad and, you get it. He’s the Avatar of Greed. He loves presents, he loves parties, he loves attention, especially your attention. But c’mon, did he really believe you’d actually forget his birthday?

Well, you’re kinda hoping he does.

You’ve been planning this surprise for the second born for months now, pulling out all the stops and not sparing any expense. You love that look in his eye he gets when his greed starts up, and you intend to keep that look there all day. But, in order to really make this as special as you planned, it had to be a surprise.

“Yo, MC”, Mammon calls as he sits down next to you in the RAD courtyard during lunch a little too fast, his tray clattering to the table. “Whaddya got planned for us tomorrow?”

You don’t look up for the book you’re pretending to read, instead opting for a look of nonchalance.

“Uh, am I supposed to have something planned for us to do tomorrow?”

He looks taken aback for a moment, but presses onward.

“Aw, c’mon you gotta have somethin’ planned for tomorrow. Tomorrow’s so important, it might as well be a realm-wide holiday!”

You try to hide your smile as your lips upturn as he mutters something about asking Diavolo if it could be added to the calendar.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Wha- What’s tomorrow?? MC, ya gotta be kidding me right now.”

“Is it some kind of weird Devildom holiday? I don’t have all of them memorized yet, you know.”

“You really don’t know?”, his voice breaks a little and you find it so hard to keep composed. But, you have to stay strong! Stick to the plan!

His face falls completely at the shake of your head. He clicks his tongue before mumbling, “Forget it then. Guess it wasn’t that important to begin with.” You watch as he abruptly stands up, trudging away from you in an upset haze.

You sigh heavily looking down at the book Satan loaned you to pretend to read to pretend to look too busy to remember your first man’s birthday. This sucked. The hurt on his features was evident and to know that you caused that? It’s a huge punch to the gut.

But the look on his face tomorrow will be so, so worth it.

You hope.

The next few hours after classes are filled with exactly what you expected: Mammon avoiding you at all costs and making every effort not to talk to you.

You weren’t too surprised to find Beel and Belphie waiting in the spot by RAD’s gate where Mammon usually met you to walk you back to the HOL.

Beel speaks first, “Mammon asked us to walk you home today”. He nods, so resolute.

Belphie, of course, adds the unneeded commentary. “How’s that plan working out? Mammon looked like a sad, wet puppy. More than normal, I mean.”

You groan in annoyance. “I knew he’d take it hard, but I didn’t know he was gonna take it THIS hard. I mean, c’mon, not even walking me home? That’s like his whole thing! That he’s supposed to do! Or Lucifer will kill him!”

“I think I would be upset too, if it were me”, Beel starts as the three of you begin your walk. “Imagine it was your birthday, and you thought no one would get you a cake? That’s so sad,” he sighs, laying his hand over his stomach, looking remorseful.

“No one could forget your birthday Beel, or they’d be forgetting mine too”, Belphie laughs. which seems to brighten Beel’s mood a little bit.

“Right, you always get me a cake, Belphie”, Beel smiles.

“Do you think I should talk to him? Just tell him what I’m planning?”

“And ruin your surprise? You’ve been working hard on that”, frowns Beel.

His twin continues where he left off, “And we’ve been working hard to keep it a secret. Don’t worry, I give it an hour, maybe two before he’s talking to you again. He’s like, physically incapable of not hovering around you like some parasite.”

“But he’s my favorite parasite”, you muse, “and don’t call him that.”

“Well, whatever you do, better make up your mind quick”, Belphie says, opening the gates to the House of Lamentation. “Mammon can be sensitive, but trust me, he’ll survive a couple hours thinking you forgot.”

“Yeah, I guess he can.”

He could not.

Mammon laid on his bed, furious and yet, finding himself unable to be mad at you. Of course you forgot his birthday. Why would you remember?

When you’re getting lunch and shopping in town with Asmo. When you’re having tea and chatting with Lucifer. When your gaming with Levi and reading with Satan. When your napping or stargazing with the twins? When you’re baking with Luke and Simeon and Barbatos and have the future king of the Devildom gunning for your attention as well. Why would you remember him? The selfish prick of the family. Why would you deem him or his birthday important?

And yet, you look at him like he hung the stars and the moon. You touch him like he’s made of fragile glass. You care for him as if he was the most special thing in your life. Did he even have the right to be upset? When someone as important as you forgets someone as insignificant as him?

He can’t fault you. And honestly not talking to you hurts worse than anything you could ever do to him. Forcing himself to not walk you home was easily one of the hardest things he had to do within the last millennia. A birthday without you sounds much worse than just telling you why he’s upset.

But he’s stubborn, dammit. Goddamn Lucifer and the goddamn pride he instilled in him.

So, he does what he does best when he’s upset. He broods. And he does not text you. Oh no, don’t even think that he typed a million messages and erased them, words never coming out right. Cause he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He would never.

He stares at his ceiling, arms crossed, D.D.D tossed aside. He really can’t believe it. It’s already almost midnight. You really forgot his birthday, didn’t you? It’s not that you HAD to get him anything, or you HAD to have something planned, he just… really wished you did.

He thought he was more important to you than that.

As of right on cue, a light rasp comes from the other side of his door. A familiar one. None of his brothers knocked that quietly.

But did he wanna answer you? No. He didn’t want to talk to you and see your beautiful face and spend his day with the most important person in his life, his human. Cause he didn’t. Of course not. He would never.

“Mammon, are you in there?”, your voice rings out and his heart lurches. He wants to be mad at you, dammit he wants to be mad at you. But…

He’s up before he even knows what he’s doing, turning the handle, sighing before he starts, “Look, MC, I didn’t mean to…what’s that?”

He stops mid sentence, pointing down to the box in your hands, wrapped up nicely in gold foil wrapping.

“It’s a present for the birthday boy,” you take out your own D.D.D. looking at the time. And since it’s officially midnight, it’s officially your birthday.”

“W-wha, I-I…Y-you…”

“Happy Birthday Mammon”, you smile sweetly at him, shoving the box in his hands.

He looks down at it and then back at you… then down and it and back at you again, disbelief written on his face.

“Don’t cha ever scare me like that again, got it!?”

“Scare you?”, you question him with a light chuckle.

“Yeah, scare me! I though you forgot all about me!”

“You? How could anyone forget about The Great Mammon! And how could I forget about my first man?”

He watches as a blush rises on your cheeks, a matching one quickly finding its way onto his.

“Well”, you say, shoving the box into his hands, “Open it!”

He pauses for a minute before careful undoing the ribbon tying it together, unraveling the gaudy paper from around the box.

He lets out a soft gasp as he removes the lid. “Is this… MC these cost a fortune, how did you…”

You cut him off, taking the gold chain bracelet out and cuffing it around his wrist.

“Well, you kinda haven’t shut up about it since you saw it, so I saved up as much as I could from my Hell’s Kitchen shifts.”

He stares at it in awe before smiling widely and wrapping his arms around you tightly, rocking you back and forth. “Thank you, Treasure.”

The nickname pulls a giddy laugh from your chest, pulling back from the hug to look him in the eyes. “Anytime, Mammoney. But you gotta get ready”, you reply, poking a finger into his chest to drive the point home.

“Ready? For what?”

“Well, there’s your party at The Fall that starts in about an hour… and then we have to check in at the private suite…then maybe we’ll sleep a little? maybe? Then there’s the breakfast reservations…. and the lunch reservations…and the dinner reservations…and then the Casino downtown is already expecting you…” you list lost in thought, thinking hard to remember everything you had planned out in advance.

Mammon can’t help but look at you with the fondest eyes. Like you had hung the stars and the moon. He puts his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention, touching you like the most fragile glass.

“What, did you really think I forgot?”, you tease him in that tone you know he loves.

And he once again takes you into his arms. He can’t believe he doubted you for a second. Not only are you a bad liar but,

You are the most important thing in his life.

[ihavethedreamies]

Happy Birthday | Seonghwa

Park Seonghwa - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.6k

Pairing: Seonghwa x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Super Cute, Super Sweet

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Handjob, Unprotected Sex (Don't!)

Author's Note: This a story requested by/written for my friend @sadfragilegirl! I don't normally write this level of fluffy romance, but I tried really hard! It’s a little early for her actual birthday, but she didn't mind~

I have the setting as Switzerland as if the reader and Seonghwa live in Korea, so sorry if you already live in Switzerland or something…

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"What's this?" You looked from the envelope to him skeptically. He said it was a surprise, but you were expecting him to place a box or even a bag in your hands when you closed your eyes. When the paper hit your palms instead, your eyes flew open, looking at him with question.

"Just open it, love." Seonghwa huffed with amusement, adjusting his position on the couch so he was facing you more. It wasn't like a card, it was a normal white envelope, like from when you would get a bill in the mail. It was only stuck at the middle of the flap, so you easily tore it open. Staring at him to gage his reaction, you reached in, your fingers feeling two slips of paper inside. Pulling them out, you flipped them over, still watching him. Your eyes left his to read the words on the slips and your mouth fell open.

"Your passport is still valid, right?" He smiled wide at your reaction.

"Switzerland?!" You looked rapidly between his gift and his face.

"That's where you talk about all the time…" Seonghwa leaned forward a bit to get a better view of your face. He wanted you to be excited, but was worried you would start crying, but you seemed okay.

"But…why?"

"Your birthday?" He said it like it was obvious. You looked back to the tickets, checking over the date, noticing it would be the day before your birthday, in about two weeks.

"Is this early enough notice for you to get off work?" He was a little worried he should have done it sooner, but he needed to make sure all his paperwork was in order as well. Luckily since it was only going to be about four or so days, you both didn't need a visa.

"Yes, its early enough- Park Seonghwa!" Your demeanor had shifted drastically, and he recoiled a bit.

"Why would you do something so elaborate for my birthday?" Your brow furrowed and he calmed, exhaling in slight exasperation.

"Why wouldn't I? You're going to be a quarter of a century." Your boyfriend smiled playfully, and you sneered back just as playfully. Clicking your tongue, you looked back at the tickets.

"I was able to rent a town house unit instead of a hotel room, it thought it would make it homier…" He pulled out his phone so he could show you the booking. It was more of a bed and breakfast type deal, but it would be just the two of you. You had to rip your gaze away from the plane tickets to look at the listing he showed you. It was perfect, warm, and cozy. There was a small living room and a small kitchen and dining area, with the bedroom and a bathroom upstairs. Small, but still bigger than a hotel room.

"Seonghwa…" You drifted off, and he looked over your face again, and he noticed your eyes had gotten glossy, and you swallowed hard.

"Please don’t cry, love." He huffed, hand going to your cheek so he could brush the stray tear off your cheek with his thumb.

"But it's so freaking sweet." You sniffed and he chuckled, resting his cheek on the crown of your head when you slumped into him, head on his shoulder.

The next two weeks were a blur, your job was willing to let you get off for that short time, you hardly ever took time off, let alone for yourself. Your coworkers were a bit disappointed that you wouldn’t be there so they could use your birthday as an excuse to go out to drink. Seonghwa helped you make sure all of the technical parts were handled, like your paperwork for your passport and other such things. What you hadn't noticed at first was that the tickets were for business class. Not quite top-tier first class, but way better than economy, especially for a nearly twelve hour flight. Your flight was set to take off at about two in the afternoon and so you would arrive in Switzerland for 7 pm their time. You two had even been preparing as much as possible for the jet lag you were going to experience, but it was a bit hard since you both still had to work. The flight was long, but it was quite fun, and it was fancy. You had never flown so far internationally, let alone in such a comfortable way. The meal was ten times better than what plane food you normally got to eat, and it was even better because Seonghwa was with you the whole time. You already thought he was the best boyfriend anyone had ever had, but this really was the icing on the cake…

"Cake, for breakfast?" You grumbled groggily, looking at the dessert he had set on the nightstand. By the time you had gotten all settled into your lodging, it was nearly ten at night, so you had fallen asleep quickly. The clock next to the cake read 11:42, so theoretically, it would be cake for lunch.

"We're not going to eat it now, but I wanted you to blow out the candle first." You still hadn't crawled out far enough from your blanket cocoon to look at him, only seeing his hands stick the blue '25' candle into the top of the dessert. The icing was white and had yellow and purple flowers piped around for decoration. Seonghwa chuckled as he helped you sit up, the plush duvet falling to your lap as you rubbed your eyes. When your eyes focused back, you could read the top of the cake, "Happy Birthday, Love." He smiled, reading the top of the cake for you. He brushed an errant strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, then left a soft kiss on your forehead. Yawning and stretching, you turned in the bed as he lit the candle with a match, then he carefully sat on the bed with you, holding the cake steadily.

"Make a wish." He was so freaking pretty, let alone when he would smile. How'd you get so lucky? You wondered that often. You finally noticed that he had a headband on that had a small fake crown attached to it, a plastic tiara lying next to him on the bed. You smiled, looking to the small flame and closed your eyes, 'let me be able to be with him forever,' then you blew out the candle. You clapped to yourself softly as he put the birthday cake back down, then grabbed the gold piece of plastic, and let it slip onto your head, the little combs on the ends securing it with your hair. When his hands came away, you adjusted it slightly, and before you could thank him, he had something else he was handing you. Not only that, there was two more boxes on the floor along with the gift bag he was handing you.

"What the…Seonghwa!" You scolded half-heartedly. He had already flew you to a whole other country, rented a beautiful place to stay and got you a very yummy looking cake.

"Just open it." He let you take the bag, sitting on the bed before you at a better angle. He was in a white cardigan sweater; the low neck showed his collarbone off as it stretched over his shoulders. He didn't have anything on underneath and the wide swatch of skin that was revealed made you want to lean forward and kiss away the smooth perfection. Forcing your attention back to the gift, you removed the tissue paper and reached in to grab the actual gift. It was a small wooden box, beautifully stained dark with gold painted cherry blossoms dotting the wood. It was already beautiful, but when you lifted the lid at the hinges, a soft melody began to play, one very familiar to you. Seonghwa noticed tears welling in your eyes again, but he just let it be, there was no point trying to get you to stop crying at that point. The little ballerina that had rose off her perch in the music box spun smoothly along with the melody, her little dress was a soft purple, her hair up in a bun, the same color as your own.

"Seonghwa…" You were nearly out of breath, it was gorgeous.

"Where did you find this?" You ran your finger over the deep purple inside, watching her spin in her dance, it was a different exterior, but almost identical otherwise to one you had as a child. The song was even the same, and you had lost the box when you moved in the fifth grade, heartbroken that you would never see it again.

"There's a store I found that had European antiques. I was just looking in the window and I saw this through the window. When I heard the song, I grabbed it, since I knew it was your favorite." He explained, leaning down to grab one of the boxes. You reluctantly closed the music box, setting it gently to the side, letting him place the box on your lap.

"These are more for today…" He grabbed the other box as well as you untied the ribbon and opened the bigger, flat box. Inside was a dress made from a delicate, pale yellow material. It was decorated with purple flowers, resembling the cake sitting on the bedside table. There was also a pair of white sandals, decorated with yellow flowers.

"Oh, it's so pretty!" You smiled at the dress, fingers running over the purple collar of the dress. Yes, it was a present, but it was going to be hard to beat the music box. The next item he handed to you was wrapped. He scolded you for being delicate with the wrapping paper, but none the less let you slowly open it, trying not to tear the white shining paper too bad. Inside was a box of luxury bath supplies. It had a bath bomb, salts, bubble bath and a small pillow to put on the edge of the tub for your head.

"Why don’t you take a bath and then we can get a later lunch?" Seonghwa helped you get the tape off of the plastic box so you could open it. You hummed as the delicate fruity scents hit your nose and you nearly jumped out of bed, eager to get in the tub. He chuckled as you shuffled quickly into the bathroom, and he smiled even wider at your excited gasp.

"You already drew the water!" He heard a small splash, "Its just right!" You peaked your head out of the door and smiled.

"Thank you, Seonghwa!"

"Of course, love." He let you take your bath and got ready for everything else he had planned. You plopped the round ball into the water, watching it fizz and turn the water a warm reddish-pink. You sprinkled some of the salts in as well, letting them dissolve before quickly shedding your sleepwear and sinking in. The tub was nice a big, perfect for relaxing.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" You reached over the edge, grabbing the small pillow and using the suction cups to attach it on the edge. Sighing, you relaxed into the nice hot water, the pleasant aroma and salts soothing you as well. The plane ride, while much better in business class, still had left you a bit sore and the bath was just what you needed. After you were done, you fixed your hair, put on some light makeup, and put on the dress. Looking yourself over in the tall standing mirror near the dresser of the bedroom, you smiled at your reflection. It fit perfectly, of course, and it was incredibly comfortable. Grabbing a small bag to use as a purse, you grabbed the sandals as well and met Seonghwa downstairs in the small living room at the front of your lodging.

"Does it look good?" you asked as you came in, drawing his attention away from his phone to you. He gaped for a second, then smiled warmly, "You look absolutely gorgeous, love." Like he had any room to talk. As you went to leave, he kneeled down in front of you, helping you get the sandals on, then led you out with your hand in his. The weather was perfect, fluffy white clouds floating in the deep blue sky. People milled up and down the cobblestone street and you joined them.

"The restaurant for lunch is just on the next street." He told you, and you made your way down the sidewalk and around the corner to get to a more business-centered street.

It was a lovely little bistro-type establishment and you even got a free dessert because of your birthday. Since you didn't have to drive anywhere, you both enjoyed a glass of champagne and you honestly ate more than you should have.

"Why don’t we walk and look at the shops?" Seonghwa motioned down the street after paying the bill, not letting you even look at the receipt. There were several little businesses, many of them were obviously getting most of their business from tourists. You had to be really careful with what you looked at, or how long, or if you would make a comment on something. Seonghwa tried to buy everything you were even slightly interested in, so you had to hold your tongue a bit. At the end of the street was a small courtyard with a fountain in the center, some street vendors and performers set up for the many passerby. By the time you reached the fountain you had acquired a silver charm bracelet, a pocket mirror with a celestial design on the back, a set of three glass figurines of your favorite animal, and a pair of flats with a pretty floral design. Those were just the nice gifts, you also had several different confections, a bag of marbles made to look like dragon's eggs, a wooden flute, a much nicer though still fake tiara, and earrings made to look like macarons.

"I really don't need all of this, Seonghwa." You huffed, taking a seat at the edge of the fountain. He had been carrying the bags, not even letting you hold the bag of chocolate covered pretzels.

"Yes, you do." Your boyfriend tried to hide his smile, trying to maintain his false seriousness. As you had walked down the road, you had also taken several pictures at several places where that was the intended goal. Many of them were selfies of the two of you, or simply of you standing by various things. There was a giant taxidermy bear, with a huge teddy bear next to it and you even put on a headband with bear ears on it for the picture, but didn't let Seonghwa buy it. A statue of some local historical figure, a model of the largest fish ever caught in the area, and several pictures of you holding miniature instruments were among the photos. Together you would take a picture in front of the shops you bought stuff from, for reference, and at seemingly random times, when he would wrap his arm around your shoulders and make you look at his phone. There were several times when you would be near a group of girls and you could tell they were staring at your boyfriend and whispering, but you didn't know the language they were speaking. Your eyes flitted over to his exposed upper chest. You at first were incredibly pleased with him wearing such a flattering top, but you wondered if maybe you wanted to be the only one able to see him like that. So, you had gotten a matching set of small capes made to look like those worn by monarchs. It covered him enough, but still wouldn't make him too hot in the midday sun.

"Can you keep going or do we need to head back?"

"I'm fine looking at more shops, but I need you to promise and not buy me something unless I explicitly ask you to." You pointed your finger in his face, making sure he was looking at you.

"Okay, I promise." He sounded a bit put off, but he smiled right away, reaching up to adjust your cape. With your tiara, you looked and felt a bit childish, but it was your birthday, dammit! You were going to do what you wished. The day continued in bliss, and most of what Seonghwa bought you after was food, except for a medium-sized stuffed wolf and a nice pair of sunglasses since the clouds had all but left and the bright light was hurting your eyes. As you sat on the grass at the edge of the waterway running through the middle of town, you took the glasses off and set them over the snout of the stuffed wolf. The spot was near the edge of town, and on the other side of the water was a field that, when in season, would be filled with flowers. However, that time of year, there weren’t any in bloom. The sun was creeping closer and closer to the horizon, a beautiful array of colors painting the sky.

"This place is gorgeous." You sighed in bliss, leaning back, propping yourself up with your hands on the ground behind you.

"That's why I picked it." Seonghwa hummed, digging through one of the many bags, looking for something. A few stores back, he had come out with a canvas, zipped bag, and would not for any reason let you look inside. He had added a few things over the following hours, and you were growing incredibly curious. But…you supposed you could be patient. As you watched the sun sink to just peak over the distant horizon, he made a noise of realization and hurriedly began to pack stuff up.

"Seonghwa?"

"Let's head back, I have-" He halted, then shook his head, helping you stand up from the ground, "Let's get back." You were growing even more curious as you walked back to your rented lodging. The restaurant right across the way was finally open, seemingly only for dinner, and it seemed Seonghwa had made a reservation. While the bistro offered food you were at least somewhat familiar with, you had not tried anything even similar to the menu. Your boyfriend told you to ignore the prices and order anything that looked good, so you could try everything. Luckily, you had no idea what the conversion rate of the currency was, so you could reliably ignore the cost.

"Do you mind sitting and waiting for a little bit?" he asked, gathering up the bags after he paid the bill.

"Uh, okay?" Your place was literally right across the street, so you didn't mind.

"I'll message you when you can come!" he called as he left the establishment and you watched him jog across and enter the place.

"Huh…" You knew he was planning another surprise but had no clue what it was. You were able to finish your drink before you got the text, your phone buzzing with his specific notification sound. Since the meal had been paid, you simply got up and left the restaurant, heading across the street and entering the lodging yourself. Only the lamp was on in the living room, but you were able to see there were several items on the coffee table that were not there when you left. This intrigued you, so you headed straight in, not noticing the flower petals littering the floor of the hall leading further in and toward the stairs. Stopping by the table, you saw there was a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers in a vase, two candles on each side, another box wrapped in a ribbon, with an envelope on top. You smiled at the sight, still a little blown away by the effort your boyfriend had put into celebrating your birthday. Leaning down, you grabbed the envelope first, pulling the card out that lay inside.

Please put this on, love, and come up.

He had written in his smooth handwriting, and you carefully set the note down, reaching for the box then. Pulling the ribbon loose, you looked inside and found another item he had bought you to wear. This time it was a soft, lacey babydoll lingerie set in a delicate purple shade. In the corner of the box was a small glass bottle designed to look like a diamond, the scent of the perfume was heavenly. There was a thin satin robe to match, and your face flushed a bit at the sight. You had never been confident enough to buy something like that to wear before. However, seeing what he had bought gave you an extreme confidence boost, and it made you feel beautiful and sexy as you put it on in the restroom on the first floor. After you got the set carefully on, you sprayed the perfume in all the right places. Looking over yourself the best you could in the mirror, you draped the robe on over the lingerie, and prepared to join your boyfriend. You were honestly a bit nervous. It wasn't that you had never had sex with Seonghwa, because you definitely had, but this was different. He had you wrapped up like you were a gift for him; you felt incredibly wanted and special. Even more so than usual. It was as you entered the hallway that you finally saw the purple petals decorating the hardwood floor and led up the stairs. You were careful when going up, not wanting to damage the petals too much, nor slip and ruin the evening. Taking a deep breath to steady your excitement and nerves, you put your hand on the nob, and opened the door. There were candles set up around the room, the low, soft light casting across your boyfriend, who was sitting on the bed, a single flower twirling in his grasp. His face was a bit bashful, probably because he had changed into thin, flowy black pants, and a matching black button up…but it was undone, hanging open, fully revealing the smooth skin his sweater earlier gave a sneak peak of. When his eyes landed on you as well, his nerves faded, seeing you wrapped up in the robe and lingerie he had picked out. Even though it was your birthday, you were a gift to him, the elegant scent of the perfume wafted gently toward him as you moved closer, letting the door fall closed. He stood to meet you, both of your faces slightly flushed. You took the flower from him and he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, then tipped your head up by his hand on your chin so your eyes could meet his.

"You look beautiful, (Y/N)." You hummed when he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and you had to fiddle yours fingers together to hold back from just running your hands over his bare torso.

"Have you had a good birthday, love?"

"Of course, Seonghwa." You whined a bit at the end, wanting his soft kisses over your cheek to go back to your lips.

"Would you like a bit of dessert?" he asked, leading you toward the bed. You still hadn't eaten the cake he put in the fridge that morning, but that wasn't what he meant. He had a display plate on the bed with several different cuts of fruit and you smiled. You actually preferred fruit or something fruity and sweet for a dessert even over a pastry. You sat delicately on the bed and moved up further at his prompting as he joined you, placing the platter in between you two. As he held up a strawberry to your lips, he mimicked the bite you took, smirking a bit as you chewed. A bit of the sweet juice ran over your bottom lip, so he leaned forward, running his tongue over the trail, then finally captured your lips in a kiss. You whimpered in relief, and eagerly let his tongue then enter your mouth so he could taste the strawberry on your own tongue. After you ate each piece of fruit, he would lick the remains off your mouth and tongue. When he gave you the second cherry, he took one of the stems and challenged to see if you could tie it in a knot together. Well, you couldn't, but maybe because you were both too focused on the kiss than tying the stem. The kiss that followed the gentle flavor of banana was the final step, he set the platter to the side, deepening the kiss further and leading you to remove the soft purple robe you had on over the lingerie. He exhaled in awe, the nearly sheer fabric encompassing your breasts was lined with soft lace, the lower part of the babydoll was truly sheer and laid over your ribs, ending with the same lace as the top. The panties were barely such, but added a sweet and delicate detail. He inhaled deeply as his nose rank over the column of your throat, enjoying the aroma of the perfume. Seonghwa's soft kisses quickly grew harder, his tongue running over your skin. You whimpered when his teeth sank into the crook of your neck slightly. It morphed into a full moan when he sucked hard, and you know it left a mark. He continued this pattern, each new bruise setting your skin ablaze further. After what had to be the tenth or eleventh love bite, he pulled away, sitting back to admire his handiwork. Your face was flushed all the way down to your chest and the tips of your ears, your core already clenching around nothing. Seonghwa brought his fingers to your pussy, rubbing at your folds through your panties, the thin material not able to hide how wet you already were.

"Already so wet, love." He hummed, mouth back near your neck, his voice rumbling in your ear. Trying to ignore his fingers at your core, your hands came up and shakily tugged at his shirt, trying to get it off. He chuckled, helping you with the process, and before he could lean back over you, you sat up yourself. Your boyfriend rose an eyebrow in curiosity, then smirked when your lips met his neck in return. It was your birthday, and if you wanted to mark him back, he was going to let you. You couldn't use the same amount of force he had, and you were nervous to even just nibble his skin. After about three smaller marks, your lips found his again, and he rested back onto the bed, pulling you into his lap. You took your chance and found the waist band of his pants, the thin material not hiding his arousal much. As you pulled his cock out, your small hand wrapped around him, lips going back to his. Since you were distracted by the kiss, his own hand found your core, fingers having sneaked into your panties. You whimpered when he ran two fingers through your dripping folds, trying to maintain focus of your own task. Your other hand joined the first to cover him better, and he buried a long finger inside. He smirked when your walls clenched around the digit, pumping it a bit before easily adding a second. Your whine spurred him on, his own mind a bit foggy with your soft little hands wrapped around him. Seonghwa spread his fingers, pressing against your tight walls, getting you ready for him.

"Hold on, love." He stopped your own pumping fingers, removing his and leading you to lie back down. You nearly yelped in protest when he climbed off the bed, but you watched him remove the rest of his garments, then he lightly grabbed your ankle, and pulled you down to the edge of the bed. He tried not to laugh at your squeak at this, instead falling to his knees on the floor, making his face level with your pussy. Fully removing your panties, you mewled at his warm breath on your core, then gasped when his tongue ran through your folds.

"S-Seonghwa!"

"You're doing so good for me, love." He mumbled, then buried his tongue inside you, thumb going to your clit. Seonghwa could tell by your twitching hips and little whimpers you were already close. His tongue left your core, then ran up to flick at your clit and your orgasm hit you suddenly.

"Ah!" Your little whines rose and fell with the waves of your climax, leaving your quivering at the end.

"Such a good job." Seonghwa kissed your inner thigh, rising back off the floor, easily wrapping his arms around you, and getting you back further up the bed. Lying there, recovering, he unwrapped you like a present, slipping the lingerie fully off, leaving you bare before him. As he adjusted your legs, spreading them and leading you to wrap them around his waist, he kissed you. You whined louder, feeling the head of his cock rubbing through your folds. He could feel the vibrations of your moans as he slowly sank inside, slowly, inch by inch till he was inside to the hilt. Your boyfriend let you get accustomed to the stretch, kissing over your face lightly, telling you how wonderful you were.

"Move, please." Your voice was soft, fingers flying to his hair when he gave a slow shallow thrust. He built his pace steadily, you yelped when he was allowed a new angle after hiking your leg up higher, knee over his elbow.

"So good, love. You're so pretty, and cute…" His words were littered with little pants, your gummy walls hugged his cock so good. When he leaned back over to kiss you again, your leg over his arm shifted as well, allowing his cock to hit a whole new angle.

"S-Seonghwa!" You keened, feeling your next orgasm rising. He left the kiss, barely, lips still slightly touching, and his own thrusts were growing uneven.

"Hold on, love, let's do it together." He coached and you nodded, then he gave two more thrusts, even harder than the previous ones. Your high-pitched, quivering moan harmonized with his low groan, the heat of his release warmed your core and up into your tummy. As you both caught your breath, he wrapped his arms around you, sitting up with you, leaving you in his lap again, half-hard cock still inside. You hadn't noticed that he grabbed something else from the night stand, still in the haze of your release.

"I have one more present, love." He pressed his cheek to your hair when you had slumped forward to rest on his shoulder.

"Hm?" You let him help you sit up better, holding you at the waist so you didn't ragdoll back to the bed.

"I know you've never wanted this to be a big, fancy thing…" He presented the small box to you, and your heart beat increased, so much so he could feel it through his cock still in you.

"Hwa?" you breathed out, hand resting on his shoulder as he used his thumb to flick the box open. Inside was a thin silver ring, a small diamond resting in the middle, two small rubies resting next to the center gem.

"(Y/N), you're the love of my life, and I can't think of ever letting you go. Will you be my wife?" He knew you were already crying, without even having to look at your face. With hitching sobs, you nodded, not able to get words out, resting fully on his shoulder.

"Hm?"

"Yes." you whispered and he kissed the crown of your head, letting you rest on him so he could better use his hands. He slipped the ring on your finger, the size perfect of course, and you looked at it with teary eyes.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you too, Seonghwa…" You were trying to control your crying, but it was hard. He had done so much for you, giving you the best birthday ever, and now he gave you your final present, which was by far the best one. When you sat up better, admiring the ring, his kiss pulled your attention away, and you clenched around his cock, hard again. He rolled forward again, your back hitting the bed, and he smiled when your now-ringed hand cupped his cheek. Something about seeing you with that ring on, knowing you would be his forever, really got to him. Seonghwa sat up more, this time slinging both of your legs over his elbows, the new angle brought a gasp out of you and when he began, he was immediately rougher than before. His hips snapped hard, and you yelped as he started, this time much more passionate then before. You were glad you were so well prepared from earlier, because this time he wasn't holding back, channeling everything he was feeling into each move.

"Oh, my god…" You gasped, a particularly hard thrust hitting just the right spot. Seonghwa led you to wrap your legs around his waist, propping himself up further to maintain the angle, slightly pressing you into the bed. His hands found yours, fingers linking through yours, pinning them to the bed above your head. He kissed you again, this time more tongue than anything, and you squeaked with each thrust. You could feel his emotion through every point of contact, and you marveled that he was going to be yours forever. He didn't pull back from the kiss, but his hips stuttered, both of you nearly there. At his final pump, you both fell over the edge, even more heat filled you, to the point it dripped out of you where his body met yours. Finally leaving the kiss so you could both catch your breath, Seonghwa pressed his forehead to yours.

"Happy birthday, love."

Master-Master List

ATEEZ Master List

[junkdrawerfics]

Jasper Hale being a good, caring boyfriend

Jasper X Reader

Summary: After a really bad day, you come home to Jasper, just really needing some comfort. He helps you clean up and takes care of you like the good boyfriend he is!

Word Count: 1419

Note: title might change, I'm too tired to come up with a good one

---

“Can we cuddle?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper as you step into the room.

Jasper’s eyes shoot up from his book, brow furrowing as he takes in your distress. It pours off of you thickly, a running tap left to overflow. Quite literally. Your clothes are dripping to form little puddles at your feet, and they cling to your skin too much, which just adds to your overwhelmed state. You can hardly breathe with how tight your chest feels, how difficult everything feels. Tears prick at your eyes as you look at your boyfriend like a hurt puppy.

“Come here, darlin’,” Jasper murmurs. 

The blond swings his legs over the side of the bed, your bed, rising to meet you as you shuffle towards him. You practically collapse when he touches your face, fingers cool and soft against your cheek. It’s the nicest touch you’ve felt all day. You lean into it, eyes fluttering shut.

“How ‘bout I run you a nice, warm bath and we get you out of these wet clothes, hm?” He hums, lips brushing against your forehead in a featherlight kiss, “Then we can lie down together.”

Tears prick at your eyes and all you can do is nod as a lump forms in your throat. It sounds so nice. So unbearably nice. You would have just collapsed on your bed if he weren’t here, wet clothes and all.

Jasper leads you to the small chair in the corner of your room before disappearing to the bathroom. You pull your knees up to your chest, eyes glued to the wall, chest stuttering, trying so hard not to cry. You don’t want to cry after everything. You don’t. But then the sound of running water meets your ears and you just can’t. The dam breaks and tears go racing down your red cheeks.

Jasper appears in front of you in seconds.

“Oh darlin’...” 

You choke back a broken sound when his hands cup your face with an overwhelming amount of tenderness. Immediately, the emotions rushing over you soften, from a raging storm to gentle, sweeping waves, his ability unraveling them like tangled bits of yarn. You let out a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Come here,” he coaxes, pulling you into his arms, “let’s get you feelin’ better.”

You bury yourself in his chest for the short time it takes to reach the bathroom. Even with your soaked clothes, the coolness of his skin brings you so much comfort. You don’t care if you get sick, if only you can stay as close to him as possible. Which is why you whine when he sets you down on the bathroom counter and draws back to the door.

Jasper’s lips twitch up in amusement, though he’s quick to tilt your chin up and press another kiss to your forehead as he reassures you, “I’ll be right outside the door, sugar. A gentleman doesn’t watch when a woman undresses, even if she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”

Cheeks tinging a deeper shade of pink, you look up at him with wide eyes, lips pouted, “Promise?”

“I promise,” he replies, nose brushing yours, “I’ll do your hair for you and we can watch one of your shows, after. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you sigh, practically deflating.

“Good. I’ll be right outside.” One final kiss and he dips out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Taking a deep breath, you glance around to reorient yourself. Your coziest set of pajamas is laid out on the counter, and the room is pleasantly warm, steam rising from the bath. The scents of lavender and vanilla drift around you, easing the frayed edges of your nerves. A new feeling lodges in your throat.

How did you get so lucky to be loved by someone like Jasper? It’s like the vampire knows exactly what you need, even before you do.

You eagerly shed your dripping clothes and step into the hot water. It works like magic, the tension easing from your muscles, the heat chasing away the cold sticking to your bones. You sink below the surface, letting it wash over your face and erase the tear tracks on your cheeks.

Any other day and you would spend hours just like this, until the water grows cold and your skin turns pruney. But tonight, all you can think about is Jasper sitting right outside, and that’s enough to have you rushing through your routine. 

Within minutes, the tub is slowly draining as you towel yourself dry. You slip on your fuzzy pajamas, squeezing the excess water from your hair before taking a look at yourself in the mirror. The sight isn’t too surprising. You look tired, eyes rimmed red from crying, skin paler than usual. You feel better, though.

Jasper is waiting for you when you hesitantly push the door open. He picks you back up, arms curling around your waist and thighs. You let him, not so secretly grateful to be close again, and wrap your arms around his neck.

“How do you feel, darlin’?” You know he can tell exactly how you’re feeling, but the question still fills you to the brim with warmth.

“A little better,” you breathe, face tucked into the crook of his neck, “Thanks, Jazz.”

“It’s my pleasure, ma’am.”

You giggle tiredly at the way he lays his accent on thicker, and the sound is music to the blond’s ears.

“There’s my girl,” he purrs, kissing your temple.

You’d blame it on the hot bath, but the way your face flushes is all on Jasper. And he knows it, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he sets you down on the bed. It takes everything in him to not tease you more. Tonight is about making you feel better.

Jasper picks up the brush he set on the nightstand, glancing at you with a raised brow, “May I?”

You hum, eyes squinting, “I guess.”

He gives you one of those slanted grins, the kind that makes your heart flutter, and gestures for you to turn around. You do so without another word, a low sigh dripping past your lips when he starts, fingers methodically working through the knots before he brushes them out. 

Exhaustion slowly starts creeping back up as you relax under his touch. Eyelids drooping heavily, it isn’t long before you’re fighting back a series of yawns. You hear Jasper put the brush down again, humming quietly when he runs his fingers through your hair one last time to put it up, just so it’s out of your face.

When his touch disappears, you turn sluggishly and look up at him blearily. Something fond gleams in the blond’s eyes as they sweep over you, landing on your face just as you give him the smallest, most beautiful smile. If he had to breathe, it would strip the air from his lungs. Life itself would be worth it if he could just see that smile everyday.

Tenderly, he takes your hand, bringing it to his lips as he murmurs, “Anythin’ else, darlin’?”

You shake your head and just give his hand a small tug. You just need him. That’s all you’ve ever needed.

He doesn’t have to be asked twice. The bed shifts as Jasper climbs in next to you. He props himself up on your pillows and you curl up on him like a cat, head on his chest, arm draping over his waist. And just like he promised, your favorite show flicks on the television, playing softly in the background. Jasper curls an arm around your shoulders, bringing you as close as possible.

And you melt.

All the stress, every negative emotion plaguing you, slips away. You can finally take a deep breath, finally feel your heart calm down, finally think. All because of Jasper.

“Thanks, sunshine.” Your voice is quiet, muffled against his chest, but the vampire hears you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” he replies just as softly.

His love washes over you, swirling with your own like a mess of watercolors. It’s the most beautiful feeling you’ll never be able to put into words, something that only the two of you will ever know. It draws you in deeper, your eyes fluttering shut as you let it wash over you and take everything else away.

Any bad day doesn’t seem so bad if you can be here at the end of it all.

---

I wrote the first bit of this so long ago and then found it in my drafts. Needed some comfort.

[mykoreanlove]

Jackson on Kinjaz

Your phone was blowing up constantly.

„Oh my god, did you see this?????“, your friend asked.

With shaking hands you clicked on the link.

„I used to be critical on myself in my mind in a negative way. Not healthy. At all. I would call myself names and put myself down in my mind. I drank the most disgusting shakes for my body health but up here? I was rotting.“

„Yeah, yeah. I remember videos of that nasty shake. What did you put in there - chicken?“

„Gotta get my protein, man. But you know I would constantly feel guilty for what I have done or what I might do.“

„Like what?“

„Like. Okay, like did I practice enough? Is magic man good enough? What if I let everybody down? How will I cope? How will I live?

All these voices.. these fucking nagging voices were with me 24/7.“

„Damn that sounds tough. What did you do?“

„I thought it was impossible to fix because I tried so hard and nothing changed me. Or if it did, it would only last a couple of weeks and I’d be back to feeling like shit and talking down on myself.

Jackson, you moron, how could you do this? Did you really think you could make it? You don’t deserve this success. You don’t deserve to be happy.“

„Jackson, bro. I feel for you. Really.“

„Look, I’m just being honest. I would naturally think of punishments coming my way. I’d imagine injuring myself or loosing all my fans or money. I’d think of the most horrific shit late at night when I should be peacefully sleeping.

I would try to change my thoughts to change my feeling. I would rationalize my way out for hours to only find myself entering a new cave.“

„Like a merry go round.“

„Exactly, I was stuck. Same shit, different day. My gut always had this underlying feeling of tension.

I tried my best to give myself relief but like I said, I could not find Relief for longer than a week. Maybe a month at best.“

„Is that why you turned to alcohol? Because I remember you chugging down a bottle of Hennessy and thought to myself that’s not normal.“

„Oh, of course I started drinking more. I needed more. What used to make me pass out back then is like a cute little cocktail to me now.“

„Damn, that really is a lot to handle. Did you try other things, as well?“

„Look, I tried everything in the book. You name it, I tried it. Worked out. Meditated. Drank. Had sex. Nothing could give me what I craved so badly. Nothing. Until I found her.“

You swallowed hard.

You had no idea that he would share all this with the public. You were very well aware of his struggles but hearing him talk about them upset you. It broke your heart imagining him like that, all dim and broken.

Also, it made you nervous.

You had no idea that he would introduce you into the world like this.

You had no idea that he would reveal your relationship to his homies on a podcast.

Yet, you were intrigued.

„Her as in …?“

„You see, love is a funny thing, right? I didn’t plan to fall in love, nor did I want to but I kind of did. I found the one, man. I found the love of my life and I was lucky enough to have her love me back. Do you know how rare that is?“

„Yeah, it is for you. I remember our last interview and how we wanted to get you on tinder and shit.“

„Exactly! I used to be on my own for years. Years, man. I gave up on love completely, thinking this was meant for others but certainly not me. And then she came into my life. Like an angel that was coming down to help me. Save me even.“

„Your savior, huh?“

„I swear to god her love saved me. It saved me from drugs, it saved me from self destruction and first and foremost it saved me from myself. I gotta be honest man, if I hadn’t met y/n I wouldn’t even be here anymore.“

„Wow. That’s, that’s a pretty heavy revelation. I’m glad you’re doing better now.“

„Oh, I am. Management is probably going to kick my ass later but I don’t care. Let me loose fans, let me loose money. I don’t give a shit. If you support me now, you support the real Jackson Wang. And that’s me right now - happily coupled to the most beautiful soul on this planet. If you can’t handle that - my bad.“

„Okay guys, it’s over. China‘s most wanted bachelor is officially off the market. WHOOOO!!“

„Yeah, the king has finally found its queen.“

„So, what is she like?“

You paused the interview and took a deep breath. Jackson was very vocal of his feelings for you, but hearing it like that felt different. The biggest smile was plastered on his face as he was talking about you.

You as in his queen.

You as in future Miss Wang.

Hundreds of butterflies announced themselves in your stomach, making you giddy and joyful.

„Oh man, she is the best. Like, she is so breathtakingly beautiful. Inside and out. We have the best conversations. I feel like she is my best friend. Truly, no one gets me like she does. It’s just.. it’s effortlessly easy. We laugh a lot, we talk a lot, we share everything with each other. I’m just so grateful, man.“

„Yeah, I can see that. You’re grinning from ear to ear. Make sure to invite me to your wedding.“

„Like you invited me to your birthday?“

„Okayyyyy, let’s wrap it up. Guys, that’s it for today. Thank you Jackson, really appreciate you brother.“

You stopped the video, giggling at your petty boyfriend.

„Remind me to have a word with you once you’re back, yeah?“, you texted him.

It didn’t take him a second to instantly call you.

„Did you see it? Already? Damn babygirl, you’re quick“, he teased.

„You could have warned me, Wang!“

„I didn’t plan to say all that but I couldn’t help myself. It just.. it just came out of me. I really meant it though.“

„Everything?“

He knew exactly what you were implying.

„Oh, I’m gonna make you Miss Wang for sure. Rule my kingdom with me? Please?“

[monstersinthecosmos]

Day 9 - Slow Burn

{depeche mode - halo}

“What is it, exactly, that you want?” Marius asks.

Daniel watches his face carefully, afraid to speak too soon, or move too fast. Like being caught in a lie, like Marius can see all the way through him. 

Arousal doesn’t feel the same as it had when he was alive, but danger does. Sometimes, the stillness in Marius’s face reminds him of how Armand’s simple presence could put a chill in the room.   

It used to give him a hardon back then, sick from the blurry line between sex and terror. His adrenaline stopped being able to tell the difference after a while. 

Now, though. The way the hair raises on his arms is pleasant. Erotic. Blood rushes to his skin in a warm tingle, all over his entire body, not just focused on his cock anymore. 

He shifts in the corner of the couch, afraid to look away. Marius is sitting in the wingback chair near the fireplace, his legs crossed, unmoving as he waits for an answer. 

Armand had always looked kind of strange, hadn’t he? Out of place, when he light caught him just right. Too pale. But it was easy to mistake him for human, wasn’t it? If you didn’t look too hard. If you let him hint otherwise.

Marius, though.

Like a cold spot in the room. His presence feels so large, like it can send ripples into the air around him, like it can squeeze around Daniel’s body. It’s always there, in some ways, even when he’s being kind. Warmth and gentleness never really hide it.

What does Daniel want, though? He shrinks beneath the challenge, unsure the answer. 

Want you, is sort of the answer. But Marius is so still, unblinking, he isn’t sure he’s brave enough to say it.

He’s been afraid of Marius since they night they met, really. 

The memory of those first nights is so hard to navigate, though. Not unlike nights he’d been blackout drunk. It was like someone else was driving. 

And then those months at Night Island. It had been fine. Marius had been polite, when he’d shown his face. But he’d hidden in his room so much, and his grief had been like a pit. Him and Lestat both, sticking to each other, because no one else would really get it. 

The baggage with Armand had been too messy, too. Both of their baggages with Armand, truthfully. 

“I used to ask him about you,” Daniel says. And that’s not the answer, but he says it anyway. Marius’s eyebrows come together for a moment, before his face smooths back out. “He wouldn’t tell me. He never told me anything.”

Marius opens his mouth, as if to speak, but clicks it shut. 

And it had been too awkward, hadn’t it? Back at Night Island with everyone else. He’d left it mortal and hungry and sick and come back something else, and it had never been the same there. Not a quiet little place to dry out in private, but… 

He’s not sure how long he stuck around, either. The manic first few weeks splintered into a blur of time and space. Fifteen years went by where he couldn’t have told you the date. 

But Marius there, in the beginning, siphoning all the warmth out of the room, and them in at the end, with a bleeding wrist, bringing Daniel back down to earth.

And here now, watching him, sending chills into Daniel’s spine. 

“I don’t know, Marius,” Daniel finally says. “I just think, sometimes, I regret how it was for me. Like I wish I never did that interview. I wish Armand hadn’t been the one to find me.”

“I made mistakes with him,” Marius says softly.

What had Armand said in his book? Daniel had read it, four hundred fucking times. 

I was no Marius to him afterwards.

Daniel had finally read about Marius out of Lestat’s book. He’d stolen a copy, the day he saw it in a bookstore window, because he’s panicked and couldn’t breathe and didn’t want to talk to the clerk. And he’d read it in one sitting, his eyes sore and stomach in knots in his hotel room, suddenly transported back to those early days, hiding out, terrified that Armand would find him. He remembers that night as if it was any motel from the years being hunted, like he can swap the memories in and out. 

And he’d gotten butterflies when he’d finally seen Marius, at Maharet’s place, even on his freshly-turned high, as if he was star-struck. 

“I should’ve talked to you, on Night Island,” Daniel says. “I think maybe things would have been different for me if I’d had you in those early years.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Daniel picks at lint on his pant leg. Draws his knees to his chest. “I was scared of you, I don’t know. And scared of Armand. There was too much baggage. I don’t know. I just didn’t want to get into it.”

Marius uncrosses his legs. He rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, and the firelight catches in his eyes. “Daniel. What is it, exactly, that you want?” 

Want a maker.

Want a partner. Want your blood, want your teeth. Want a teacher. Want your help. Your discipline, your charity. Want a brother and a lover. 

Want a father.

He’s too shy to admit that he doesn’t know how long they’ve been together. Like coming out of a blackout. But he knows that for years he’s drank Marius’s blood, at the end of the night, as if Marius is tucking him into bed like a child. It’s strong in him now, he feels the way it lingers. He feels it, whenever Marius gives him the creeps. The blood shimmers inside, as if it knows, like it remembers him. 

Armand’s blood used to make him crazy when he was alive. Ruined his life, really. But he liked being bitten, too, liked being touched. Liked the pain. Craved it. 

I’ve drank so much of your blood, Daniel thinks, and his eyes even follow the veins swelling at the side of Marius’s throat. But I want you to drink mine, too.