#like. you say things like that with your mouth and expect us to mindlessly repeat if we want anything in life...

[chemicalbrew]

achievement get (for the billionth time): take one look at an assignment and get severely overwhelmed AND discouraged for the rest of the day and do nothing

[saintblk]

*ೃ— spider’s web | NANAMI KENTO

warnings: foul language, smut, p in v, vaginal penetration, slight slut-shaming, sort of kinda sub!nanami, implied virgin!nanami, nerd!nanami, college au— gender neutral afab reader, considered to be black + thick

word count: 606 (so short i know>_<)

note: ngl idk if i like this but i been having nerd!nanami brainrot for a while i might write another part to this idk

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS INTERACT AT YOUR OWN RISK

NANAMI KENTO prided himself on his work ethic. he didn’t allow for anything, or anyone, to come between him and his perfect gpa. that included skipping out on gojo’s dumb parties, handing work in far earlier than he needed to, and spending all his free time in the library. it also included approaching professors and insisting he get to work on his own. one thing he despised most was depending on other people for a good grade.

so when you were assigned to be his partner for a research paper, he wasted no time in raising the concern with the prof before he left the lecture hall. unfortunately, he’d be quickly turned away after some speech about working with people in the real world.

as he suspected, meeting with you was as difficult as he expected it to be. as soon as you approached him for contact information, he couldn’t help but further curse your prof. you were followed by your equally loud friends, dressed in short revealing clothes. nanami, to his assumption, had you figured out in a minute.

he was not surprised by your lack of response to his texts, how little you showed up to class, and the new man he saw on your arm every week. to him, you were nothing but a manipulative little slut who had everyone wrapped around their finger, and he refused to be taken advantage of.

the position he found himself in just a few days later would say otherwise. you showed up at his dorm abruptly, informing him the library was closed for renovations neither of you knew about. he allowed you to come in and bit his tongue when you plopped down on his bed.

the last thing he expected was to have you climb atop him, tight walls enveloping his shaft as you sunk down onto his member. he couldn’t recall exactly what led to it; at least not with the way you clenched around him. while he failed to stifle his whimpers and groans, you ground your hips down against his in an attempt to force his noises out.

“lemme hear you,” you breath. “know you wanna let it out.”

as if he was waiting for those words, nanami let out a choked whine and clasped at your pudgy hips. he needily bucked his hips up into you, thrusting his aching member between your walls. a loud and sudden moan escaped your mouth, encouraging him to repeat his actions.

as he chased the unfamiliar feeling overcoming him, he mindlessly pistoned in and out of you. your nails dug into his chest and your mind went blank. every time he hit the spot inside you that made your toes curl, you felt yourself lose more and more of your sanity to him.

“f-feels so good-fuck…” he bites out.

nanami, who’d never been inside anything besides his own fists, fucked into you with reckless abandon. any concern he might’ve had about the assignment flitted from his brain as did his reservations about you. it was not long before you found sweet release and gushed onto his pelvis with nanami following close behind. despite trying to hold out the way you clenched around his manhood made it impossible. with a bruising grip on your waist, he thrust into you until he emptied his seed into your womb.

it didn’t take very long for him to knock out from exertion, only to come to with an email from you, the attached document containing a nearly complete assignment. though he might’ve thought being your partner would be absolutely pointless, it seemed you were useful for something after all.

2023 ©️ all rights reserved by saintblk (me) | do not copy, repost, promote, or translate any of my works without my permission

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Only A Fool Would Say That

Nathan Bateman x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: Nathan gets pegged.

A/N: I'm just gonna gesture vagely. (The title is from a Steely Dan song that I listened to on repeat while writing this.) In my mind this is set in the How universe (you don’t have to read that to read this fic), but Nathan and Reader are already in a relationship.

I also must mention @midgardian-witch's expectional Nathan fic: The Consequences Of Being A Brat (it's a masterpiece)

Warnings: (oh dear), hand job, blow job, eating ass (m receiving), anal fingering (m receiving), anal penetration (m receiving), pegging (m receiving), Nathan kinda being a bratty sub, spitting in mouth, vaginal fingering, swearing, typos, overuse of italics, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 4671

________________________________

“I want to do anal.”

There weren’t many things that Nathan could say that would shock you anymore. But this was pretty close. 

You’d been in the kitchen, minding your own business, and mindlessly eating your breakfast cereal while staring out the window and trying to shift the lingering sleep from your eyes. 

Nathan had come in, sweaty and out of breath from his morning exercise, with a small nod and wave as he drank what must have been a litre of water from the fridge. 

I want to do anal. Was not the first thing you expected to hear out of his mouth this morning. 

But at least it was in character.

You nearly spat milk everywhere. Just managing to catch yourself at the last moment. 

With unnecessary dramatic flair, you looked at him and swallowed. A small smirk on your lips. “I’m sure you do.” 

It’s not that you were against the idea, just the way he asked. 

He stared at you, a small frown on his forehead for a moment until a look of realisation dawned. 

“Oh, no, that’s no, not what I…” 

You almost laughed at the uncharacteristic way he stumbled over his words.

He clapped his hands together with a theatrical pizazz.“Pegging!” He announced with an air of excitement at remembering the correct term. “I meant pegging!” He grins, his hands on his hips. 

“Pegging?” 

He nods, still smiling.

“You want me to peg you?”

Nathan nods, his smile a little less sure. 

“Right now?” 

“Well I was thinking about having a shower first-”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod. “You got a strap laying around here somewhere?” 

Nathan puffed out his chest and beamed. “Several.”

*

Several was a bit of an understatement. 

Nathan had left you to peruse his collection in his room while he showered. There were a  mixture of colours and a variety of sizes and shapes, ranging from the realistic to more abstract. Some had a set harness to go with them, while others could seemingly be placed in one of the many empty harnesses he had. 

He had pulled the box containing them out of his large cupboard and onto the carpeted floor where you were now kneeling. In the brief time the cupboard had been open you had spotted quite a few other boxes that seemed to contain ‘items of personal and intimate use’. 

It seemed like instead of a sex toy drawer, Nathan had a sex cupboard. 

Figured.

You were still looking them over when Nathan came back into the room, his towel hanging low on his hips.

He raised his eyebrows at you. “See any you like?” 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “You certainly have a few.”

“You’re not shaming me are you?” He teased. 

He mock gasped. “What?” 

You snorted. “I think you’d like that.”

“A bit of degradation? Seems like your thing.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, but he was smiling.

You chuckled. “Sure you don’t.” You turned back to the collection and pinched your lips together in thought. “Which one’s your favourite?” 

“Oh, erm,” he paused, not expecting your question, and walked over to you, standing a step behind. “That’s tough.” 

You looked up at him over your shoulder again, raising your eyebrows playfully. 

“What?” He laughed. 

You shook your head. “Nothing.” 

“Tell me.” His voice had a slight whine to the edge, he was starting to get worked up. 

You shrugged. “I’ll just have to use them all on you, see which one makes you scream the loudest.” 

Nathan’s gulp sounded loudly around the room. You could see his semi hard cock twitch beneath his bath towel. 

“I have one, erm,” he rummaged in the box for a strap and harness that you hadn’t taken out yet. “Here, it’s got,” he tapped inside the harness, “this bit.” Nathan held it out to you expectantly. 

You took it out of his hand slowly, taunting him just a little as you brushed your fingers unnecessarily slowly over his skin. 

The little shiver that echoed in his shoulders was delicious. 

“This bit?” You repeated, trying your best to pretend you didn’t know what it was despite your smile giving you away. 

He grinned and eagerly sat down next to you. “This bit goes in you, and this bit,” his voice was soft and velvet smooth. He leant forward a little, pressing his finger against your clit through your clothes, “goes here.” 

“Oh really?” You tease, leaning closer to him. Faintly you trace your lips over his. 

“Yes.” He whispers. He follows your lips, letting out a light laugh when you move back whenever he tries to fully kiss you. Slowly, he rubbed your clit, keeping his touch gentle and teasing, just lacking enough pressure.  

You lean forward quickly and kiss him for barely a second before you pull back again. 

Nathan bites his lip, grinning before nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. “It also transfers sensations.” 

“Transfers sensations?” You run your fingers down his bare back. 

He leans up lazily and nods. “So you feel extra good when I… you know.” He grins.

“Cum?” 

Nathan chuckles, “well, yeah, but also when I clench around it and stuff like that, it sends,” he waved his fingers in the air. “Vibrations.” 

“Oh, vibrations.” You tease and kiss him again, chuckling when he smiles. “You wanna use this one, then?” 

He hums and kisses you, moving his hand up your spine and to the back of your neck so you couldn’t taunt him this time and pull away. 

“I wanna use that one, yeah.” He slipped his tongue into your mouth briefly, making you chase his kisses now. “Want you to know how good you make me feel.” He laughs gently when you softly bite his bottom lip. 

“Oh, I see.” You mutter against his lips. 

“Um hmm,” he rubs his nose against your cheek, trailing down to your jaw and kissing your neck. 

You swallow down a gasp of pleasure. “So, I’m taking it that you’ve done this before?” You said, even though you knew the answer.

“Hmm?” Nathan starts to bite softly against your skin, picking a spot that he knows will make you writhe. 

“Nathan,” you grab him by the chin firmly, sinking your fingers into his beard and force his head back a little.

He grins wickedly, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly as blood rushes downwards. There was little he loved more than being a brat. 

“I asked you a question.” You make your voice a little firmer and his pulse quickens under your fingers. 

“Do you mean being pegged or shoving things up my ass?” 

“Both.” 

“Yes.” He smiles and bats his eyes at you. 

A little flush of heart runs along your skin. Playfully, you give his jaw a squeeze and Nathan leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a second. 

You kiss him softly, keeping one hand on him while the other pulls at the towel on his waist. Slowly undoing it. 

Nathan chuckles lightly and you squeeze his jaw tighter briefly, reminding him of his place. 

He rewards you with a light gasp and a grin. 

“Are you gonna be bratty? Or are you gonna behave?” You move the towel off him so you can see his lovely thighs and rapidly thickening cock. 

“Choices, choices.” Nathan bites his lip and wriggles his whole body a little, enjoying winding you up. 

“If you’re going to be a brat,” you start sternly, “then I’m not going to-”

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” He quickly leans forward to kiss your lips and you let him, letting go of his jaw. “I’ll be good.” He smiles at you, putting on his best innocent impression. 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You’d better be.” 

He bats his long eyelashes at you again. “When am I not good?” 

“Oh Nathan, I have no idea.”

He giggles at your tone of voice. His laughter quickly turning into gasps for breath as you take hold of his cock in your free hand. You pump him twice, quick hard strokes that you know he’s not ready for yet but craves, loving when you’re a little rough with him. 

There’s something about the little whines he lets out under your touch while he’s squirming, the stimulation a little too much but not enough. 

“What’s your safe word?” 

Nathan groans, rolling his eyes and about to say something sarcastic when you take your hand away, holding it up while giving him a look.

His look turns apologetic instantly. “Break Key.” 

“Good.” 

The tension eases out of him when you put your hand back on his dick, smiling dreamily when you rub your thumb over his head and tease his slit. 

Precum is pooling from him already, aiding the glide. You press your thumb a little firmer against the tip, the touch harder than most would like. But you feel his length jump in your hand as it always does, the long moan that escapes his lips as he leans back. 

“Nice?” You ask softly. 

“Yes.” He draws out the word, shifting slightly to move his legs further apart. 

WIthout warning you lean down, taking him into your mouth. 

“Oh fuck!” Nathan gasps, his eyes screwed up in pleasure as you swirl your tongue over his head. He groans loudly, his fingers digging into the carpet. 

You bob up and down, letting your saliva drip out of your mouth to run onto the rest of him as you pump him with your hand. 

He sucks in a breath, eyebrows pinched together as he fights the urge to buck up into your mouth. 

There were few things Nathan liked better than a messy blowjob. 

“Please… keep… going- shit!” He couldn’t help the hip jerk that time as you sank deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat. 

The warmth of your mouth is intoxicating. 

He shuffled back a little and kicked out one leg, brushing the neat collection of dildos into a mess on the side, before he laid down further, just resting his shoulders on the wardrobe behind him. 

You moved so that you were between his thighs, still sucking and taking him as deeply as you could. 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Nathan pressed his palms against the wood behind him, trying to keep his eyes open as you swallowed him down. 

“Not close already are you?” You pulled off him and clicked a fat stripe from his base to tip.

He let out a low moan, his eyes almost rolling back. “No.” 

“Been thinking about me pegging you, hmm? Getting yourself all worked up?” You jerked him a few times before scraping your teeth lightly over his balls. 

He jumped and gasped, shuffling closer to you, inviting you to do it again. 

And you were weak, so you obliged him. 

“Yeah.” He groaned.

“Yeah that’s good,” you licked his balls, swirling your tongue around one and then the other. “Or ‘yeah, I’ve been thinking about getting pegged?’”

“Both.” He bit his lip as he whined, trying to keep himself under some semblance of control. “Fuck, thought about you fucking me yesterday, just,” he moaned louder as you dipped your tongue lower, under his balls and teased the rim of his hole. 

“Yes, yes, please, ugh, please, that,” he moved his legs wider, putting his feet flat on the floor and tilting his pelvis so that you had better access. 

You weren’t a stranger to eating Nathan’s ass. Or shoving a finger or two up there. Or a whole vibrating toy while you sat on his cock and rode him until he was an overstimulated crying mess. 

But still you couldn’t help but smile at his neediness. 

You traced the rim of his entrance with the tip of your tongue, barely one full rotation before he whined and thrusted a little towards you. 

“Someone’s eager,” you muttered and nipped at his asscheek. 

He jolted and shivered. “I fucking am, please.” Only Nathan could make begging sound like an order. 

You chuckled and let it slide, this time, before spitting on his hole and lapping at him.

A string of swear words fell out of his mouth, so close together they were barely distinguishable as english. 

Gently, you teased his entrance, easing in the tiniest amount before going back to circling and licking. 

God he sounded so good. Pleasure dripped down your spine as he writhed, igniting your already burning arousal. 

He whined under you bucking until you tutted and pushed on the back of his thighs, pressing his legs to his stomach. His strong muscles twitched under your hands as you curled him up on himself before you continued your assault. 

“Oh, oh fuck, yes,” he still tried to buck, but his movements were hampered in his position. 

You’d managed to make him cum like this before, more than once. Just licking and teasing his needy hole until tears streamed down his cheeks. 

The first time he had sobbed out a proper ‘I’m sorry’, as he came untouched. Feeling so bad for cuming without warning. His release splattering all over his stomach and chest - some of it even reaching his beard. 

“Please, please, please, more,” he wiggled under you, trying to get you to stop teasing and go deeper. 

You mock sighed, as if he was boring you. “Get on the bed.” 

He began to whine.

“Get on the bed or I’ll fuck you dry and won’t let you cum at all.”

Nathan pouted. “That’s mean.”

“Then behave.” 

“I-”

“If you say you are Bateman…” You glared and he snapped his mouth shut before treating you to a sickeningly sweet smile. 

“I’ll get on the bed.” 

“Good.” You let go of his thighs and he got up, his thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he stood. He made a show of stretching like his muscles ached, giving you winks and sideways glances the whole time.

You smacked his ass playfully. “Get. On. The. Bed.” 

“I’m going.” He smiled and laid down in the middle of the bed, getting comfy and repositioning pillows. 

You watched him for a moment until you were satisfied, and then stood up and grabbed the lube from the bedside table. 

Nathan watched you, still beaming as if butter wouldn’t dare to melt in his mouth. 

You shook the bottle before pouring a generous amount onto your fingers. You didn’t bother to warm the lube up first, he definitely didn’t deserve that. 

WIthout much ceremony you climbed onto the bed and sat between his legs. 

Nathan gave you another syrupy smile, you raised your eyebrows at him. 

“Wha- Oh!”

You pushed two fingers into him without warning, waiting for the moment he started to talk. Nathan groaned, aching his back off his mattress. You knew from previous experience that he could take two of your fingers with little to no prep, but you still stopped half way in, about to check in with him. 

“Please, don’t stop.” He groaned, his voice vibrating through your hand.

You smiled and indulged him, sinking in deeper. 

“Fuuuuuucccckkkkk yessssss.” He stretched his legs out, moving them wider. Warmth burned low in your belly, every sound that escaped him made your pussy clench and ache to be filled.

Slowly you eased out and then back in, savouring his little grunts of pleasure. Though, even with how worked up he was, the tight ring of muscle seemed surprisingly loose. 

“Nathan,” you say in a sing-song voice, still languidly pushing back and forth. 

“Hmm?” 

“Were you touching yourself in the shower?” 

“I, ah, a bit.” His neck flushed. 

“How?” 

“I, shit, I,” he swallowed and then gulped as you poured more cold lube over his hole. “I shoved some fingers up there.” 

“How many?” 

“Erm… two?” He was a fucking awful lair when he was getting fucked. 

You stopped moving. 

“Three! Three!” 

“Alright,” you started to move again, quickening your pace, adding even more lube and then pushing in a third and fourth finger. 

“Ohshitshitshit,” he moaned loudly, so happily as you fucked him harder, stretching him. Though you purposefully ignored his prostate. He hadn’t been good enough for that. 

“Hmmmm, please,” he whined. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I, ah, I didn’t mean to,” he sucked in a breath. 

Of course he had, you knew that, just as you knew it was part of the game. He liked to be just on the edge of misbehaving. Liked you to get a little rough with him. 

“I’m gonna have to put you in a chastity belt, aren’t I? One with a butt plug to stop you touching yourself.”

Nathan groaned, his eyes rolling back at the thought. 

“Oh, you won’t like it though, it won’t be long enough for you to feel good. Just wide so you’re all nice and stretched, but no relief.” 

He moaned again, loudly. “Fuck, baby, please, don’t I’ll acutally cum.” His tone sincere.

“What?” You chuckled. “Just at the thought?” 

He nodded desperately. 

“Okay,” you leant down and kissed his thigh, grinning. “We’ll save that for another time.” 

Slowly you pulled your fingers out of him.

“Hey,” he sat up a little, blinking heavily once he realised what you were doing. 

You grinned. “I’ll be right back.” You said as you sat up and walk out of the room. 

“I was enjoying myself, you know!” He called after you with pretend annoyance. 

“I know!” Quickly you washed your hands in the ensuite before coming back into the room and picking up the chosen strap-on from the floor. 

Nathan watched you hungrily, his eyes dark and hazy with lust. 

Slowly, you stripped. 

“Do you want me to make you feel nice?” He asked quietly, drinking in your body as you bared your skin for him. 

You smiled at him, enjoying basking in his loving gaze for a moment. “I already feel nice.” 

“You know what I mean.”

For a second you enjoyed the flush of his skin, the sweat pooling at his collar bone. 

“Yeah, but you know that I get all worked up when you moan like that.” 

Nathan bit his lip, his cock twitching. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath. “Yeah?” 

You nod. 

“Can I feel?” 

You giggle and nod, pulling off your underwear that was practically dripping with your arousal and adding it to the pile of the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

Not wasting any time, you moved towards him and where he had reached out his hand. 

Softly he stroked his fore and middle fingers through your folds and swore loudly, closing his eyes. 

“See? I wasn’t joking.”

He nodded. “Hmm, uh huh, I know, I just,” he looked up at you lovingly and dipped his fingers a little further inside before groaning. His cock twitched against his stomach again, the tip red and desperate as it smeared precum over his stomach.

“I just forget,” he mutters, “how much you like it.” 

You smile and lean down, kissing him softly. 

Nathan slides his tongue into your mouth, using the opportunity to sink his fingers into you and curl them, pressing perfectly inside to that glorious spot he knew so well. 

He’d once made you cum in eight seconds with his fingers. So determined to get it under ten that he had brought out a proper stopwatch. Making you cry and sob with overstimulation as he tried again and again and again, whispering praises in your ears as you continuously fell apart for him. That had been a long, and very satisfying, afternoon. 

“Nathan,” you chastise, but his fingers feel so good. 

“Hmmm?” He asks innocently, sliding in and out of you, making sure to push up and brush against your walls in exactly the right way. 

You rock back and forth against his fingers, your body following his rhythm without a second thought. 

“You’re being bad.” Though your criticism was a little hampered by the breathy moan that followed. 

“Please, please, let me make you cum once like this,” he looked up at you with that irresistibly soft expression he reserved for you. “Just once. Please.” 

You nodded, not trusting your own voice and Nathan groaned happily. 

He added his thumb to press softly against your clit as he worked you up, slow and steady. 

The sound of your wetness nearly cut above Nathan’s own pants and sighs as he worked you at just the right pace. Teasingly you slowly until you couldn’t take it any longer. 

A moan began to escape your lungs, Nathan’s cue, and was quickly cut off with a silent scream as he moved faster, continuously stroking your g spot until your legs shook and you came against his hand. 

It washed over you like a cool wave, striking against every nerve and leaving you weak. 

“Fuck…” You moaned, grabbing out hold his wrist and the edge of the bed to stop yourself from falling. 

Nathan smiled and kissed you, slowly pulling his fingers out once you let go of his wrist. 

He went to put them in his mouth but you grabbed his palm and shoved them between your lips first, making him moan and pout at the same time. 

“But I wanted a taste.” He gave you the puppy dog eyes and you snorted, making a show of licking up and down his fingers, getting every last drop. 

You didn’t swallow though. Instead you leant forward, over his face and pursing your lips. 

Nathan grinned and opened his mouth eagerly, sticking out his tongue as you spat in his mouth. He groaned and only swallowed when you nodded your head. 

“What do you say?” 

“Thank you.” 

You tutted but smiled. “I shouldn’t be rewarding you, you’ve been so naughty.” 

“No.” He elongated the word and then chuckled when you gave him a look. “Maybe a bit.” 

“Hmm.”

“But you like that about me, you like my spunk.”

You rolled your eyes “gonna make you spunk more like.” You muttered. 

Nathan laughed loudly, not expecting your reaction or grumpy tone and you couldn’t help but smile as you grabbed hold of the strap on, coating the inner dildo with lube before stepping into the harness and sliding it into your aching pussy. Your previous orgasm helping it to glide in comfortably. 

Methodically you adjusted the straps, making sure it was tight enough. The inner part pressed snuggly against your clit.

You touched the head of the strap and-shit!

You jump, letting out a small squeak of surprise.

Nathan grinned. “Told you you’d feel it.” 

“That’s so weird.” You touched the tip again, sensations rubbing against your clit and through the dildo inside. 

“You like it?” 

You nod. “Did you make this?” 

He grins. “How did you know?” 

It’s your turn to chuckle. “It seems like a very Nathan thing to do.” 

His smile widens. “I’m taking that as the highest compliment.” He says as he lays back down against the bed, legs spread. 

You pour lube over the dildo, feeling the coolness along your clit, and stroke it. The sensations pulse inside your wall.

For the smallest moment you get a little distracted by the feeling before you shake your head and climb on the bed. 

As you lean over Nathan to grab a spare pillow the cock brushes against the bed sheets and a shiver of sensation passes along you. 

He gives you a cheeky grin. “Feel good.” 

“Yeah.” How breathy your voice is undermines you a little. 

“Maybe we can try you wearing it while I suck it another time?” 

“You wanna suck my dick?” You smile and Nathan nods enthusiastically. 

“I do."

“Well, I won’t say no to that.”

You tap his hips and Nathan raises them instantly as you place the pillow under his ass and lower back. 

He shifts a little, getting comfortable as you pour more lube on the dildo and then over his asshole. 

“You okay in this position?” You say as you kneel between his legs. 

Nathan nods. “Very.” 

“Good.” 

Gently you line yourself up with him and it feels so strange as you press the tip of the cock against his greedy hole, the vibrations of sensation running up your clit and pressing the inner dildo against your walls so deliciously. 

“Fuck.” You groan and push deeper, gasping as Nathan clenches down around the cock instinctively. 

“Oh, god, yes,” he moans happily, sighing as if this was a glass of water after a long run. 

You try to slow down for a second, not wanting to rush him, but he whines in distress and shakes his head. So you push in just as quickly, just as firmly, until you’re fully sheathed inside.

And, oh god, does it feel good. 

Nathan moans against beneath you, rocking his hips slightly to encourage you to move. 

“Greedy thing.” You mutter.

And he sticks his tongue out at you even as he smiles, “you wouldn’t have me any other way.” 

You snort and draw your hips back, dragging out to the tip before snapping back into him and set a brutal pace. 

Nathan whines, his head thrown back and moaning loudly, swearing and pleading in every other breath. He grabs hold of the sheets, fisting them tightly before reaching out with his right hand for you. 

You take his hand, squeezing tight as you piston in and out of him, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. 

“Fuck, yes, god, please, fuck me harder,” his voice gets higher, practically screaming as you lean forward, spreading him wider and pick up your pace. 

“Like that?” You manage to growl out through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Nathan squeezes your hand, his eyes rolling back in his head as pleasure coils so tightly in his belly and lower back. 

You shift slightly, readjusting just so and he screams. Moaning and begging, becoming a complete and utter mess instantly as you hit his prostate head on. 

You grunt and shift, hitting it again and again, pounding into him relentlessly. Fucking him within an inch of his life. 

He’s squeezing you so tight, the pleasure burning through you and bringing you dizzyingly high. 

The headboard smack, smack, smacks into the wall, chipping paint with the force of your thrusts. 

It’s so good, he feels so good and, and- oh, god. 

Nathan moans, his back arching off the bed as his orgasm takes him by surprise. Running along every nerve and hitting every muscle all at once. He spurts thick, milky cum all over himself as he shouts his throat raw. 

He squeezes you so tight and you sob as he drags you down with him, releasing and shaking as your orgasm finally crests. 

You rest against his legs and breath heavily, your heartbeat calming. The aftershocks of Nathan’s orgasm echo through you via the dildo. 

Carefully you ease out of him, bending so you can littler his legs with kisses as you do so. 

Somehow you manage to stand, despite your legs having apparently turned to lead and stumble to the bathroom. You clean yourself up, taking off the strap and throwing it in the sink to be washed later, before returning with a warm wet cloth to clean up Nathan. 

He is in much the same position that you left him in, his eyes closed as he starts to nod off. 

You kiss his cheek softly as you sit next to him. “Just gonna clean you up, okay?” 

“Hmm,” he says sleepily. “Thank you.” 

He shivers a little as you wipe him clean, despite the cloth's warmth. 

“You might need another shower.” You speak softly, and kiss his cheek again. 

“Later,” he shuffles closer to you, wrapping you in an embrace and snuggling close. 

You manage to throw the cloth onto the bedside table, just. And relax into his arms. 

“Was that nice?” You murmur, gently massaging his arms and back. 

He nods, his eyes closed. “Let’s do it again later.” 

You can’t stop the laugh that overtakes you. 

Nathan smiles against your skin, loving the sound. 

____________________________________ 

Thank you for reading!

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[agirlsrage]

Perhaps a Mattheo Riddle ff whereas maybe reader and him get into a FIGHT!!! And they lowkkk end off bad terms and then like timeskip 3 weeks later or something and Mattheo gets into a fight and shows up at her door because she would OH MY GODDDD SHE WOULD ALWAYS TEND TO HIS WOUNDS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

PATCH ME UP

Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader [ angst , fluff ]

"You're such an asshole!" You yelled, your brows furrowed so deep, they could scar. Mattheo rolled his eyes as if he was brushing you off, "you're being dramatic, it's not that serious." His tone was calm, but you could hear the subtleness of his anger. 

"It is that serious. I'm so sick of you ignoring the things I say." Your volume was lower, but your frustration wasn't. You just wanted him to listen, to understand, but he made it seem like that was impossible. Mattheo just stood there, blankly watching you shake your head at him. "Just get out." As soon as your words reached his ears, his expression changed immediately. 

His eyebrows were now creased in confusion and slight disbelief. "What?" He mumbled, his words dripping with worry. "I said get out." You repeated, your irritated evident in your voice. You had never been this angry with Mattheo. "I can't leave without making up. We can't just fight and let it linger."

You cut him off, your irritation levels rising. "It's not that serious, just get out." Mattheo rolled his eyes at the use of his previous words, giving up and deciding to leave you alone. "Fine." He muttered, now sounding disappointed and defeated. Mattheo exited your home, closing the door behind him with a slowness as if he was waiting for you to stop him. But you didn't. You watched him walk away, the same anger bubbling deep inside you. 

Three weeks later.

The air is cold, darkness accompanying you as you let out a deep sigh. You were currently seated on the sofa of your living room, mindlessly searching through the limited channels for something interesting. Though it has been three weeks, you haven't been able to get over the mess of events that occurred between you and Mattheo. You wondered if he was also thinking about you the same way you were thinking of him. Suddenly, a knock sounds from your door, immediately catching your attention.

Your eyebrows furrow as you pull yourself from the soft cushions and make your way to the door. You weren't expecting anyone, so who could it be? Your mental question is soon answered as you pull the door open, revealing the man that stood in your living room weeks prior. Instead of the previous distressed look, his face now held one of vulnerability and shame as he looked at you.

You could see the embarrassment swirling in his eyes as he cleared his throat awkwardly whilst looking off to the side, "I didn't have anywhere else to go and you.. usually patch me up." He mutters, the volume of his voice was very low. You inspect his reopened wounds, along with a few new ones. Sighing, you open the door wider for him, allowing the boy to enter as you led him to your bathroom.

Without a word, you retrieve the kit you created to aid you with tending to his wounds. Opening the case, you let out a sigh. "Is there a reason for this fight?" Your tone was unimpressed and flat, making his shame burn hotter inside of him. "Yes." Mattheo muttered, completely avoiding eye contact with you as you dabbed an alcohol pad on the open wound. A moment of silence occurs before you speak up, "are you gonna tell me?"

Mattheo let out a bundle of air before finally meeting your eyes as he spoke. "I was really frustrated about our fight and I just needed someone to take it out on." He defended softly, a hint of defeat still present. "It's been three weeks. You're that frustrated after three weeks?" A chuckle escapes your mouth as you rub a cream on the now clean wounds.

He nods, "I just kept dwelling on it and I couldn't ignore how bad I messed up. You were right. I always brush you off when we're arguing and I am an asshole for that. I'm sorry, Y/N." His eyes are locked on yours as he apologizes, not bothering to react to the last swipe of the cold substance against his skin. Your eyes soften as you look down at Mattheo, a soft smile decorating your lips. "Thank you for apologizing. Does this mean you won't do it again?" You ask, wanting to hear it from his lips.

He lets out a dramatic huff before admitting, "yes. This means I won't do it again." You cover the last open wound, your lips fully blossomed into a smile as you look at Mattheo once again. "Good." You comment, packing away the medical supplies and placing them in their reserved spot. "So... do you forgive me?" He asks quietly, almost unsure of himself. The gentleness of his voice causes your heart to warm. You turn to face him once again, smile on your lips as you respond softly. "Of course."

—

HELLO! Idk how to set this up soz 😞

[notnctu]

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details -  hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞  

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical 

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances. 

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.” 

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression. 

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander. 

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room. 

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head. 

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

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[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 III {finale} || professor!helmut zemo x reader

{𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 I} {𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 II}

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : some part of you thought that maybe you could get through this without ever having to really talk about your feelings, or the future, or all those things you were pretending didn’t matter.  but they matter, and they can’t go unspoken forever.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 11.7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (semi-public sex aka car sex), some possessiveness, angst, fluffffff way too much fluff, violence (mentioned), mentions of serious injury, military references, relationship discussions, choking (non-sexual lmao it’s just on food), minor character death (in a flashback kinda, not graphic)

You glanced over at him as he stared out into the road ahead, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, his thumb absent-mindedly stroking your skin.

The weekend getaway had been his idea, but he let you pick the destination.  You picked a cabin in a cute little seaside town, something relaxed where you could spend the whole weekend in bed together and not worry about the rest of the world for a little while.

But you were still in the car, so you were still worrying— specifically, worrying that this felt sort of like a boyfriend and girlfriend thing.  And that itself wasn’t so bad, but it made you feel like the ‘what are we?’ talk was inevitable, as was that talk going poorly.  You could picture it now: I like spending time with you, he’d say, one of those things that sounds like a compliment but really means you’re worth it as long as you require no effort and stay out of my way.

And you’d just nod and pretend to be okay with it because you were in too deep now to break it off.  When you were together, you were so happy that you couldn’t imagine ending it; and when you were apart, you missed him so much that all you could think about was the next time you would be together.

We’re happy now, why do things need to change? he’d say, one of those things that makes sense until you really think about it and understand that it just means why would I care if we’re moving forward or not?  I’m already getting what I want.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, and he glanced at you quickly.  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, squeezing your thigh.

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“You expect me to believe that?” he chuckled.  “You’re overthinking again, I can feel it.”

“You can feel me overthinking?” you confirmed, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he nodded.  “I can tell your mood very well by now.”

“Alright, then why ask me what I’m thinking about if you already know what I’m feeling, mind reader?” you challenged.

“You’re sighing because you are bored from being in the car so long,” he decided, “and you’re also noticing that you’ve never dated anybody who drove such a nice car before.”

Does that mean we’re dating?  “Anything else?” you smirked.

“And you’re wishing I would move my hand a little higher.”

Before you could react to that, he moved his fingers up under your skirt, gripping your thigh tightly until you breathed another sigh— one very different from the last.

“Am I right?” he grinned.

“Spot on,” you breathed, whimpering a little when one of his fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.  It was subtle, teasing, and yet it was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your thighs to clench together which he noticed easily.

He tutted in faux disappointment when his finger moved down to find a wet patch in the fabric.  “Oh, wet already… what are we going to do with you, draga?”

Whatever the fuck you wanna do with me, you thought, but when your lips fell open thankfully only a little moan fell out.

It was impossible to complain about the risk of distracted driving when his fingers slipped into your panties and explored your folds— yet you were about to complain when he pulled his hand away, until you watched him bring his soaked fingers to his lips, quickly getting a taste before reaching under your skirt again.  As if that wasn’t hot enough, he growled a bit when he pushed two fingers into you suddenly.

“Fuck,” you whispered, making him smile proudly.  He only ventured the fingers inside you briefly, sliding them out slowly to brush the rough pads of them over your clit and it made your whole body shudder— he pressed down, drawing slow circles, until you were biting back whimpers and pleas for more.

He kept on teasing you, only reaching as deep as he needed to to lightly press into your spot before slipping out to rub your clit and then start the process all over again.

“You’re so…” you panted.

“Hm?”

“You’re so mean,” you hissed.

“Am I?  I can stop if I’m bothering you,” he offered.

“N-no!  I… I just need more, please,” you groaned, yelping a bit when he pinched your clit roughly.

This time when he filled you with his fingers, he twisted his arm to go a bit deeper and kept his thumb on your clit, your soaked pussy making it easy for him to pump in and out at an increasing pace.

Your eyes fell shut as you gripped the seat beneath you, rocking your hips up against his hand for more.

“Ohh, fuck, Helmut, I’m gonna come,” you warned mindlessly.

You only opened your eyes when you felt the car start to shift, looking over to him as he checked the road before pulling over off the side and stopping near the wooded treeline.

“Wh-what are you—?” you mumbled, cut off when he put the car in park and grabbed your face to kiss you roughly.  You held the wrist by his hand that held your face, moaning against his tongue, still not sure what he was up to but already on board.

“Get in the back, I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered, and you nodded dreamily as you broke away and awkwardly climbed into the backseat; he followed soon after, pushing you back against the leather and sliding his body between your legs; holding you close, kissing you harder.

It would have been reasonable to expect that the small space would make everything more uncomfortable, but instead it just made it hotter— like there wasn’t room to be anywhere but pressed right up against each other, like the only place he could rest his hands was on your body.  You felt totally helpless to his dominating and open-mouthed kiss, to his thick hands tugging your clothes out of the way while you blindly attempted to open his belt.

You reached into his trousers and found him already incredibly hard, wrapping your fingers around the silky skin and grinning when he cursed under his breath.

A bit hasty with your desperation getting the better of you, you guided him to your entrance and began to slowly push your hips forward— but he held your thighs and did it for you, sliding in in one smooth stroke.

This angle seemed to force him even deeper, and you clutched his shirt in weak fists as he pushed all the way inside.  “H-Helmut,” you breathed as he started to move, not quite sure if it was a plea for him to slow down or never stop.

“Fuck, say my name again,” he demanded.

“Helmut,” you repeated, giggling when he kissed your neck on a spot that sort of tickled a bit.  

“One more time,” he instructed; you could feel his grin against your skin, alongside his teeth grazing your pulse.

Just as you started to say it he fucked you harder all of a sudden, just to make you choke on it.  Soon you were saying his name like a prayer, over and over until you worried you’d lose your voice and he had to kiss you to make you stop.  “Say you’re mine,” he pleaded softly, right against your lips, “like you did the first time.”

You felt shame pang at the back of your head, a strong instruction from what was left of your logical mind not to do that.  But for all your mind’s protests, your body was already his and already bending to his will.  “Yours,” you moaned, “Helmut, I’m yours…”

“I know,” he breathed, nodding slightly as he kissed you again, “I know, baby.”

You whimpered and wrapped your legs around his hips, holding him closer as he stayed deep inside you, barely letting him pull back to thrust though he still managed regardless.  The bottom of his shirt was rubbing against your clit (consequences of only half-undressing for a quickie) and it made your back arch until you couldn’t push your body into his anymore.

Embarrassingly quickly, pressure began to build inside you, your moans getting louder as they echoed around the inside of the car.

“Will you come for me, draga?” he purred, a low growl against your neck where he had moved his assault of wet kisses.  You nodded quickly, holding onto his back tight and biting down on your lip a bit too hard.  His hand held your neck, thumb running over your jaw, and in a way it soothed you, but it also sent you tumbling over the edge all at once   You barely choked out his name as your attempt at a warning, as if it weren’t obvious just from the way your channel seized up immediately.  “Good girl,” he cooed lowly right against your ear, “so good for me, don’t stop.”

You couldn’t stop so long as he kept his pace— not nearly as fast as you were used to, much more measured and patient, and yet it ruined you in a way nothing else could.

It was much too sensual for the backseat of a Lexus.  Much too delicate and loving for two people who weren’t even in a formal relationship.  Much too perfect to ever forget, irritatingly enough.

He kept his eyes open to watch your face closely as he came inside you, admiring every detail of your face twisted in pleasure— a tear even fell down your temple and he softly brushed it away— before it all slowed down to a stop and you were just holding each other.

Once you both cooled off for just a second, he pulled you close and rolled you around so he was sitting and you straddled his lap, keeping you in an embrace while he kissed your neck and shoulder.  “So beautiful,” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

You wanted to tell him that you meant it, that you were really his.  That it wasn’t just dirty talk (and you weren’t even sure if it qualified as ‘dirty’).  Even if he rejected you, at least it would be off your chest.  

But you chickened out; and in your defense, if there’s any time to have a talk with a partner that might end up awkward, right before a weekend trip is probably the worst time possible.  So, it was strategic aside from just pathetic.

“We’re already going to be a bit late,” he noticed, lifting his hand over your shoulder to look at his watch, “is it alright if we just stay like this for a while before I get back to driving?”

You nodded sleepily against his shoulder and he grinned, kissing your cheek.  “Maybe you can rest here in the back after that…”

And you did, drifting off quickly in the comfort of his arms.  You only partially roused from your sleep when he carefully pulled out of you and laid you down gently, the sound of the car starting coming a few moments later.

He had to keep his eyes on the road, but he wanted so badly to watch you sleep in the rearview mirror.  

“So, what did you think?” you smiled expectantly as you turned from watching the credits roll on the TV to looking at where he sat beside you on the cabin’s big fluffy couch.

“Eh,” he shrugged.

“What?!” you squawked.  “You just experienced an American classic!”

“American classics, in my experience, are aggressive and boisterous and… greasy,” he explained.

You snorted.  “How can a movie be greasy?”

“I meant the food—”

“Oh!  We should watch Grease!” you realized.

He grumbled something in Sokovian to himself as he rubbed his forehead, and you laughed in relent.  “Fine, I won’t make you watch anything more.”

“No, I like watching movies with you,” he decided, “but maybe the next one can be a bit more… subtle.”

"The next movie we watch should be Sokovian," you suggested.

"There aren't many Sokovian films… the constant war was pretty hard on the cinema industry, believe it or not,” he scoffed.  “We managed to make a lot of porn, though.”

“Well then maybe we should watch some of that,” you smirked, and he laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh no, it’s awful.  Plumbers and lonely housewives, cops pulling women over, that sort of thing,” he dismissed.

“Cheesy porn tropes, you say?  Like, perhaps, a professor and his student?” you pressed, leaning in to run your fingers playfully over his open collar.  “So unrealistic.”

“It was different with us,” he decided.

“How?”

“It wasn’t for a grade, we never used the term ‘oral exam’...”

“Mm, maybe we should have,” you purred, hopping up to straddle his lap and trace your finger over the chain of his necklace that was just barely exposed under his shirt.  “It’s sorta sexy.”

“Really?  Oral exam?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  “Makes me think of the dentist.”

“Oh, so you don’t think dentists are hot?” you joked.  “Who doesn’t like latex gloves and drills in their mouth?”

He laughed, and although you were sort of trying not to seem totally desperate, you just couldn’t hold yourself back from trying to kiss that smile right off his face— thankfully he didn’t seem to mind, humming a bit against your lips and placing his hands on your back to hold you closer.

Just when you thought he would deepen it, he pulled back slightly.

“Wait,” he mumbled against your lips, pushing you back gently to break the kiss.  “It was… different with us, right?”

You shook your head slightly, confused as you struggled to remember what he was talking about.  “What?  Yeah, of course.”

Hastily pressing your lips back on his, you were all in but he was clearly distracted, only half-heartedly kissing you back; you could all but taste his hesitance and it forced you to pull back and look down at him again.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

“Oh, uh, nothing’s wrong,” he assured, “I just… I was just thinking.”

“...what were you thinking about?” you asked when you realized that was the end of his sentence.

“I was thinking about what you said a few weeks ago, on my birthday— that you liked that I’m so much older than you.”

“Mhm?”

“You’re not…” he started and began again.  “This isn’t just… about that, for you, is it?”

“What?” you furrowed your brow.

“I mean, is that what this—” he motioned to the space between the two of you— “is about?”

You frowned, a little sinking feeling already forming in your gut.  “I don’t understand,” you spoke, but your fear was more that you understood him completely.

“My English isn’t good enough for this,” he sighed.  “Sometimes I worry that this is… something you do.”

“That what is something I do?” you asked, a bit more pointed than you meant for it to come out, but you really just needed him to say it.  

“Date older men,” he finally finished.  “Seduce professors, I don’t know, whatever you’d like to call it.”

You straightened up and got up off of his lap, stepping back.  “Seriously?  You think this is, like, my kink or something?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he clarified, standing up with you, “but I’m asking in case I’m wrong.”

Maybe on some level, you could appreciate that it was a reasonable question.  After all, you had been sort of wanting to ask him if he made a habit of seducing students— but you didn’t because you knew it would be horribly offensive, which is why it was so aggravating that he was doing it to you now.  In these months together (but not together together), had he not learned enough about your character to realize you weren’t in it for anything but him?  “I told you I haven’t even dated that much before you,” you reminded him firmly, crossing your arms.

“And I believe you, I’m not accusing you of anything—”

“It kinda sounds like you are!” you snapped.

“And it sounds like you are getting defensive about it, which makes me worry even more!” he shot back, and you wondered if you’d ever heard him raise his voice before.

“Well, don’t worry about it, because it’s none of your business,” you rolled your eyes, “we’re not even dating anyway.”

Just as you started to walk away, not even sure where you would go when you were staying here with him (a walk outside, maybe, just to clear your head and be somewhere that he couldn’t see you cry?), he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, please,” he breathed, and only because he sounded so broken-hearted did you turn around.

“What?” you sighed, showing your irritation in lieu of your heartbreak.

He took a quick breath, collecting himself before he spoke again.  “I don’t mean to be invasive and I certainly don’t mean to be controlling,” he explained, “I just… I want to understand what you want.  From me, specifically.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “that might be a more complicated question than you realize.  With a complicated answer.”

“I have time, I have the rest of the weekend," he decided.  “Just tell me that this isn’t only fun for you.  If it is, then… then I’m glad you had your fun, and we can have fun together here, and then when we get back to the city… we can go our separate ways.”

“And if it’s not?”

He swallowed, looking away briefly before stepping closer, reaching up to cradle your face in his palm.  “If it’s not just fun, then… then we need to have a different conversation.”

You cleared your throat nervously.  “What conversation?”

“I need to know first,” he insisted, “or it would be wrong for me to tell you.  I don’t want you to spare my feelings, draga, I just want the truth.”

What you really wanted was to know his feelings first so you could spare your own, but he was so adamant on making you speak first, his gaze desperately searching your face as you tried to avoid the heat of it.  “I…” you began, not sure what to say.  You knew what you wanted to say, you just didn’t know how, exactly.  Looking up into his eyes again, you took a quick breath and started over, trying to ignore your heart racing inside your chest.  “It’s not just fun, Helmut, or a bucket list thing or a ‘trying something wild and crazy while I’m still young’ thing.  I’m serious about this… but, you know, if you just wanna stay casual I understand—”

He cut you off with a kiss, sudden but not quite desperate; rather relaxed, actually, and you melted into it as his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you close.  

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. 

“You— what?” you gasped, pushing back slightly against his chest.

“I love you,” he repeated.  “It’s not just fun, it’s not a bucket list thing or a midlife crisis thing— I love you, I’ve been in love with you for weeks and couldn’t think of what to say… I was afraid to smother you, you wouldn’t be wrong to want more freedom than you can have with me.”

A shaky breath moved in and out of your lungs as you looked away from his gaze— it was too wonderfully all-encompassing for you to be able to process this with his eyes on you.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you,” he mumbled nervously, “but I can’t change how I feel.”

“No, it doesn’t… it’s good,” you smiled, starting to laugh.  Your heart was beating so heavy you could hear it in your ears, you could barely even hear yourself speak as you answered him.  “Helmut, it’s— I love you too, of course.”

“Really?” he beamed.

“Really.” 

He kissed you again, harder, and neither of you could stop smiling through it.  "Say it again," he pleaded softly. 

"I love you," you repeated.  "I love you, Helmut."

“Mm, one more time,” he encouraged with a soft laugh as he lifted you into his arms and began to carry you down a familiar path to the cabin’s bedroom.

“I love you I love you I love you I—” you had to stop to gasp when he bit down on your neck, not too hard but still quite surprising, before he tossed you down onto the bed and pounced on top of you.

“Is it fair to say that we’re dating now?” he presumed, making you laugh.  

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So it’s just us, you and me, girlfriend and boyfriend?” he continued.  “Nobody else?”

“There was never anybody else,” you promised.

“I know, and now there never will be,” he cooed, placing a kiss right on your ear.  “You’re all mine now.”

A shiver ran up your spine instantly.  “God, how do you do that?  Go from sweet to filthy in a split-second?”

“Mm, a habit of mine,” he hummed, “because it makes you all cute and whiny.”

You frowned as he kissed your nose.  “Hey!” you, proving him right, whined; he laughed and held the back of your neck as he kissed you again.

Just the sex that followed that conversation would’ve been enough to make this an amazing weekend, but it was even better to leave the vacation as a couple when that wasn’t even how you’d started it.  

Afterwards, you laid together in bed and commiserated how silly you both had been to assume the other didn't want more, deciding from now on to be open and honest as much as possible.  That was what inspired you the next day to spend the morning trading secrets over the breakfast he'd made.

"I cheated on my eighth grade Spanish exam," you admitted, making him put down his fork in pretend shock.

"¡Chica traviesa!" he gasped.

"Maybe if I'd actually studied, I would know what that means…"

"Truthfully, I can't judge you.  I did something similar in my primary studies,” he recalled.  “I broke into the teachers' desk and stole an early copy of the exam.  But I didn't use it myself, I used it to impress a girl in my class."

You smiled trying to imagine that.  "I can see you as the romantic type when you were a kid," you hummed.

"I was more the rebellious type, with girls being one of the more reliable ways to rebel."

That piqued your interest, and you gave him an excited grin of anticipation.  "Did you have a punk phase?"

"It was Eastern Europe in the early 90s: of course I had a punk phase," he chuckled.  "How else do you celebrate the end of a brutal capitalist revolution but by importing every Western record you can find and dying your hair black in a petrol station's bathroom sink?"

"Oh my god!" you giggled.

"But it was rather minimalist, I wasn't permitted much stylistic freedom so it was little things like that… I wanted an ear piercing, but my mother would've truly had a heart attack."

"I guess you're better than I was,” you shrugged, “my rebellious phase was brief but with a much stronger willingness to sacrifice my mother's sanity."

"Yes, that's more typical," he nodded.  "I suppose my real secret was that I didn't want to rebel from my parents nearly as much as I thought I did… I just wanted to make them happy."

You smiled at him as he stared down at his plate.  "You sound like a sweet kid."

"Horrifically stupid and a bit self-involved but sure, sweet," he agreed with a chuckle.

"So, all our secrets are out, huh?" you grinned.

"Perhaps I have a few left," he smirked as he leaned across the table to kiss you softly.  "I'm saving them for a rainy day."

The weekend went by much too quickly, but you couldn’t begrudge the return to daily life now that you were returning to it together— so far, you’d found that together was the best way to experience life. 

Almost as fast as the vacation, so went the seasons as well: you both had classes through summer, and you enjoyed the freedom that came with a much more empty campus; fall, as always, was damp and chilly yet comforting— sometimes the leaves turned just the right color of brown before they fell to remind you of his eyes; winter sent you back home to see your family for the holidays, just for a few days, and you told them you’d bring your mysterious boyfriend next time even though it made your heart race to imagine that.

Your birthday passed at some point during the year, and he took you out to one of those slightly-hipstery barcades where he revealed his secret talent for skeeball— you were glad he felt comfortable completely annihilating your high score even on your birthday.  He invited your friends, too, and it went significantly less horribly than you imagined; they only asked him weird questions about being a professor a few times, but otherwise everyone got along oddly well.

And soon it was another spring again, one of your last ones before you graduated, and you let yourself focus on things other than what might happen when you left the university and he almost certainly stayed.  For now, you just needed to worry about how you’d ever find time for each other during finals season when both of you were busy for different reasons.

           Dinner tonight?  I have a reservation at 7 for a place in the museum district.  They have a dress code so wear something evening ready if possible.  -Z

you don’t have to sign your texts you know.  I know it’s you.  it says your name right above the text.

           It’s more formal this way.  -Z

it’s a text message, it will never be formal??

          Will I see you at dinner tonight or am I in trouble for asking over text?  -Z

I’ll be there

          I look forward to your company, draga

hey, you didn’t sign it!  progress!

         -Z

goddamn it

“This place is… really nice,” you noticed sheepishly, glancing around at the minimalist-yet-luxurious decor of the restaurant while you took your seat across the white-linen-covered table from him.  “Like, significantly nicer than I’ve ever been to before.”

“Well, you look like you fit right in,” he assured, and you almost believed him— it was the nicest thing in your closet, but still seemed like the wrong energy compared to how him and everyone else seemed so casually flawless.  “I took the liberty of ordering for you,” he explained as he poured water into your glass for you from the basin at the table, “I was going to make you order the salmon anyways, it’s really impeccable.”

“What’s the occasion?  I’m still feeling spoiled from the anniversary celebrations last month.”

You two had decided to celebrate a year since the day you’d met (and had sex for the first time; it was an action-packed day) instead of the day you had officially began your relationship, since there was no reason to commemorate months of pretending to be casual while you were both quietly devoted to each other.

“I just want to have a nice date with my girlfriend, is that so terrible?” he smiled.

“No,” you answered quickly, “but that’s a load of bullshit.”

He chuckled a little.  “You’re right.  I wanted to do something nice with you before I go.”

“Yeah, that’s not ominous at all,” you frowned.  “Care to elaborate, international man of mystery?”

The conversation paused briefly as the server came by with your meals, and you gave him a little nod of appreciation before he left; the salmon did look pretty amazing, and you trusted your boyfriend’s taste even if it was often more refined than your own.

“I need to make a trip home in the next few months,” Helmut finally clarified.  “Nothing particularly interesting, and thankfully all very temporary— boring estate management stuff, comes up every once in a while,” he shrugged.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound as needy as you felt.

“No more than three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” you yelped.

“You know I’d never leave your side if I had the choice,” he smiled.  “It’ll go by in a moment, you might not even notice I’m gone.”

“Are you kidding?  I practically live at your apartment.  We probably haven’t spent three days apart since we met.  Hell, we have sex, like, five times a week!”

You heard the chatter of nearby restaurant-goers die down, and you awkwardly looked around to find some of them staring at you as Helmut tried to suppress his laugh.

“I… may or may not have forgotten we’re in public,” you whispered harshly as most of them seemed to get back to their own conversations.  “Let’s not eat here again.”

“Oh, would you like to announce our sexual frequency anywhere else?” he joked, though his tone remained as serious as ever, and it made you laugh even though you were the butt of the joke.  “Olive Garden, maybe?”

“Shut up,” you demanded between hiccups of laughter.

“The Texas Roadhouse?  I’m sure they would love that,” he continued.  “They seem like a real liberal crowd.”

“Stop,” you snorted, trying to catch your breath and not laugh too loud in front of all these people who already had a poor impression of you.

“Or we can go to the drive-through at Taco Bell and you can tell them through the little speaker thing,” he offered, and you hid your burning face behind your cloth napkin.

“You’re mean, I was just trying to say that I’m gonna miss you if you’re gone for so long!”

He leaned across the table to grab the napkin and slowly pull it down from your face, smiling at you when he could see you again.  “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.  “We’ll have sex fifteen times when I get back, for lost time.”

“That’s not really my issue,” you sighed.  “I mean, yeah, we’re still definitely gonna do that, but that’s not what I’m gonna miss most.”

“I know,” he nodded, “don’t think I’m going to do anything but miss you terribly the whole trip.  In fact, that brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about tonight.”

“Telling me you’re leaving for three weeks isn’t the main topic of discussion?” you realized.

“It was, but now I’m here with you and it has me thinking all sorts of things,” he explained.

“Okay… what are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

“Well, I was just thinking that I don’t want to keep you from living your youth while you can,” he answered, looking back at you as you took a sip of your drink, “but that I’d like to marry you.”

Just like that, you inhaled some water and began coughing and choking.

“Hypothetically!” he blurted out, leaning forward to make sure you were okay but you waved him back into his seat.

“I, uh,” you began, coughing one more time before you started again, “I didn’t think that was what you were thinking about.”

“Well, clearly,” he mumbled.

“I mean, I didn’t know you were thinking about that at all,” you explained, “like, I wasn’t sure that we were there yet.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice when I told you not so long ago that this year with you had been the best of my life,” he recalled, making you smile a bit to yourself at the memory.  “I’m there.  I’m just asking where you are.”

“I guess I need to think about that,” you lied.  You didn’t need to think about it, you knew that he was talking about exactly what you wanted, but you needed to convince him you were taking this question seriously— god knows he was constantly worrying that you shouldn’t be tied down to him when you were so young, and although you typically handled that by making a bondage joke (and he typically handled that by making a non-joke bondage offer), you didn’t want him to worry about this.  

“Maybe you can think while I’m on my trip,” he decided, “and when I come back, we can talk about the future.”

“I just meant for, like, a few minutes,” you admitted.  “I don’t need that long, Helmut.  I know what I want.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“To be with you, whatever that looks like,” you said, sounding more confident than you thought possible.  “That’s what I want.  And I don’t wanna hear you saying anything about how you think I might be too young for marriage or that I might change my mind later… I have a right to love just as much as you, and to know what’s right for me.”

“And it’s me?” 

You smiled as you reached for his hand where it rested on the table, squeezing his fingers in yours.  “It’s you.  Obviously.”

He looked at your hands held together before he smiled back at you— but it faded suddenly, and he pulled his hand away to lean back in his chair.  “There’s something else I should tell you, before I let you say too much...”

You swallowed thickly.  Oh god, here it comes.  Secret family in Canada, glue-sniffing addiction, absurdly specific and disturbing fetish… the wheel of misfortune was already spinning in your head, and you took a bite of your fish to try to look natural.

“You should know the truth about my family, back in Sokovia?  We’re, in a certain sense of the word… royalty.”

You started choking again; why did he keep telling you this stuff while you had something in your mouth??

“Shit, are you alright?” he asked nervously, and you nodded in spite of your fit of coughs.

“Are you a prince?!” you spat out as you started to catch your breath again.

“A baron.  A little less romantic, I know,” he smirked.

“And if… if what you’re talking about, actually happened, then that would make me…” you trailed off, raising your eyebrow expectantly.

“My baroness,” he finished for you.  Funny enough, the word my was doing more for you than the royal title.  “Hypothetically.”

“You keep saying that word,” you noticed.  “I hope we think it means the same thing.”

“Maybe a better word would be ‘eventually,’” he decided, and your back straightened because oh shit, this is really going to happen.  “Maybe an even better word would be ‘soon.’”

You almost choked again, with no excuse this time as there was nothing in your mouth to actually choke on.  “H-how soon?” you whispered, and his lips curled into a mischievous grin as he lifted his drink.

“Sorry darling, I don’t think I can tell you that,” he decided as he took a sip slowly, still staring you down over the rim of the glass.

You shifted nervously in your seat, trying to imagine how you were supposed to be anything but jittery after this conversation. 

“Can I ask an inappropriate question?” 

He raised his eyebrow.  “Let’s try not to scare the other patrons again, but sure.”

“How rich are you?” you blurted out, and he laughed a little.

“Somewhere between ‘outrageously’ and ‘ludicrously,’” he decided.  “It might seem a little far-fetched considering I prefer not to live extravagantly here in the States… but we’ve made good use of the last dozen-or-so generations of wealth.”

“And you let me pay for lunch last week!” you remembered, leaning forward to smack him on the shoulder with a scowl.

“That’s all you have to say about that?” he realized bewilderedly.

“It’s all that I can process right now!”

“I should apologize for not telling you sooner,” he nodded.

You paused as you stared back at him.  “I sorta thought you’d continue with that by explaining why you didn’t.”

He sighed, looking away.  “I spent so much time worrying you were only with me in pursuit of a new experience with an older man.  And then if you knew how much money was involved… I didn’t want to jump from one insecurity to the next with you, if I could avoid it.”

“You’re insecure about being rich?  Next you’re gonna start crying ‘cause your cock’s too big,” you rolled your eyes.

Again, other diners turned to you and this time you looked back at them.  

“What are you looking at, huh?” you snapped, and they all stared back down at their plates quickly.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“If you could stop antagonizing the public, that would be ideal,” Helmut hissed.

“I don’t think I’m handling this very well,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.  “I wish you would’ve told me before.”

“So do I, but believe me that I had my reasons,” he sighed.

You lowered your hands from your face to rest them on your elbows as you crossed your arms.  “I think if we are going to talk seriously about this next step, then you’re gonna have to tell me those reasons,” you decided.

“Right, of course,” he nodded, clearing his throat as he looked to the side.  “Well, I guess I should start from the beginning.  As good a place to start as any, yes?”

You wrinkled your brow; you weren’t sure why he was so clearly nervous.

“As you can imagine, I was born into the royal life, I didn’t have much of a say in it all.  From the time I was eighteen I was the 13th Baron in a line of Sokovian royals who controlled a certain amount of land.  In retrospect, I understand how incredibly fortunate I was, especially compared to the poorest people in my country, but at the time all I could appreciate was that it was stuffy and boring and allowed for none of the adventure I longed for.  Hence the aforementioned punk phase, but that didn’t satisfy for long.  I suppose that was why I enlisted.”

“You were in the military?”

He nodded.  “Briefly.  I liked the idea of being a part of something that had nothing to do with my name.  And I was two years into my contract when my unit was stationed in a little border town, mostly farmland, but Sokovian borders are always contentious places… anyhow, one night, while another Lieutenant and I were on patrol, there was an ambush.  They shot at us, we shot back, but we were just firing into the dark so we went down rather quickly… I assumed that was the end, everything went black in an instant before I could even think…”

You shuddered, appreciating how traumatic this was for him as he looked down at his lap, stoic but in that way that clearly held more underneath.

“I woke up in a bed, in a cottage,” he recalled.  “A farmgirl heard the gunfire and waited until the enemy forces moved on to render aid.  She told me I was nearly dead when she found me but that her uncle was the local doctor and had been able to remove the bullets and stitch me up.”

“You told me those scars were from being attacked by a dog as a child,” you remembered.

“Yes, I didn’t forget the lies I told you,” he frowned.  “I think that one should be understandable.”

You swallowed, regretting saying anything.  “O-of course, I’m sorry.”

“The important thing is that she told me my partner was dead when she got there, and she couldn’t do anything for him.  I was in shock— keep in mind I was young and dumb and thought of myself as some kind of invincible— but for the next month she delicately nursed me into… at least decent health, and helped me cope with it all.”  He took a deep breath, a soft and somber smile crossing his face.  “I suppose you can imagine what happened next.”

He looked at you again and you gave him a shrug, unsure what he expected you to guess.

“We fell in love,” he finished flatly.

“Oh,” you nodded, “right.  It sounds pretty romantic.”

“Yeah, the wounded infantryman and the rural farmgirl… it was all very pastoral,” he sighed, “but anyways, my family was more than hesitant to allow me to marry a poor girl, which obviously only made me want to do it more.  I even told her that I’d leave the title for her, and she gave me some pitiful monologue about how she’d never forgive herself if she was responsible for me being disinherited, she pleaded with me to find a way to gain my parents’ approval… but I knew that we were in love and that nothing could stop us, so I didn’t think much of it.”

You tried to imagine him as a young, hopeless romantic, and some part of you was a bit jealous that others got the opportunity to experience that side of him when you didn’t; but it wasn’t like he was exactly cold and hardened now, at least not with you.  Just wiser, with more experience and more scars.

“My parents had put their foot down and demanded I call off the engagement.  And, oddly enough, they told me that it wasn’t her social standing that bothered them but that they simply didn’t trust her.  That they thought I was being rash and had only known her a few months— that I was too young, I would change my mind.  I was incensed; I mean, not only do they dare to insult my foresight, but this was the love of my life they were talking about like she was some conniving witch.  So I said some things I regret to this day, and I told them to keep their title and their properties and have me formally disowned at their earliest convenience.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Well, the truth, as it often does, came out sooner or later.  That all along, her love was for the money and not the man.  When I told her I’d left my title behind for her, she… didn’t take it very well.  And by that I mean she slapped me so hard I saw white for a second.”

Your heart hurt to imagine him being treated like that.

“I told her that we would be poor but we would be happy together, she told me that she never wanted to be poor again, that the reason she did all this was to get out of this hellish farming town and live in a castle in Novi Grad.  I suppose I could’ve forgiven all that, after all I imagine she struggled greatly for a long time living that way.  But then she started ranting about how she didn’t drag some dying Baron through the mud that night on the patrolway just to marry a poor man.  I was heartbroken just realizing that she knew who I was when she saved me— that she might not have if I were anyone else.  Like, say, my partner that night.”

Your chest was too tight to gasp properly.  “You don’t mean…” 

“She held out on me for a minute but I finally got her to admit it… the other man was alive when she found us, but she left him to die while she saved me, apparently planning from the very beginning to seduce me and escape to Novi Grad like she always dreamed of.  His name was Miroslav Pavlović, and he was a good man…  a boy, really, only twenty when he died.  Alone.  In the dirt.”

Hot tears on your cheeks made you realize you were crying, and you awkwardly wiped them away in hopes that he wouldn’t notice.

He took another deep breath and seemed to reorient his mind, away from the mourning and back to his story.  “Of course, I, being a young man with all my pride, told my parents that I ended it in respect of their wishes, but I think my mother suspected what really happened.  Especially when the girl went ahead and married my cousin.”

“She what?!”

“An industrious young woman, I have to give her that,” he nodded.  “She didn’t need a Baron, she just needed somebody who could get her out of the farm and into whatever her idea was of a luxurious life.  And yes, it is exactly as wonderful as you’re imagining to see her on those rare occasions where the extended family all has to gather.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled.  “That’s… cold.”

“I suppose it all worked out for the best— I dodged a bullet much worse than the ones that hit me before I met her, she got her riches and noble husband, and my parents were free to arrange a marriage for me with a woman of more adequate social standing.  I was so convinced I was terminally unlovable that I actually went along with it.”

“You married her?”

“No, I just agreed to, on the condition that we meet a few times first, at least.  It was the second time we met when she confided in me that she was actually a lesbian.”

“Oh!” you chuckled, hoping it wasn’t inappropriate to laugh a bit.  Not as his misfortune, per se, or at the idea of a lesbian in general, but just the way this story seemed to get more complex at evey turn.

“Yes, well, my family was more liberal but hers were not the sort who would respond well to that news… I considered going through with the marriage to give her an alibi, so to speak, and the both of us would quietly have affairs with women— ideally different women— to keep up appearances for our families.  She and I actually got along alright, we thought maybe we could be good friends, which some husbands and wives aren’t even when they marry for more genuine reasons.”

You scoffed as you nodded, “yeah, true that…”

“But,” he shrugged, “I got cold feet, I just couldn’t bring myself to resign to an entire relationship built on a lie again, so, I decided to leave it all behind and study at a German university— I chose history because I’d consumed historical nonfiction voraciously throughout most of my life and it seemed like a good fit, and I suppose it was the right choice… because here I am.”

You took a long, deep breath, but you didn’t feel that much more stabilized afterwards.  “Okay, a lot to unpack with that,” you announced.  “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the money, with everything that happened before… but you lived this entire life that I knew nothing about.  You already know everything about me.”

“I couldn’t tell you much more than I did without burdening you with it.”

“Sure, but you can appreciate that this puts me in a sort of vulnerable position,” you offered.

“Right,” he agreed.  “That was, of course, never my intention.  I don’t tell anyone the things I’m telling you now, understand that.  Everyone at the university thinks I came from much more humble beginnings and has no idea about my military service— well, except for that one royal historian who unfortunately recognized my name, but I’ve been bribing him into silence from my first day.”

“Wait, you pay him off?!”

“Oh, god no— I just grade his final term papers,” Helmut shrugged.  “But still, I got pretty comfortable with my reinvention, weeks go by without me thinking about my life before this.  Especially with you… sometimes I thought maybe it would be better to quietly abandon it all and become the person you thought I was.”

You smiled a little; maybe you wished that you knew how to be angry with him even in times like this, but you just couldn’t do it.  “You’re still the person I think you are,” you assured.  “Where you come from is not who you are, it’s just one of those things that help make you who you are.  It’s up to you to decide what you do with it… and I think you’ve done something pretty great with it.  Plenty of people who didn’t need to work for a living just wouldn’t.”

“I know it sounds nice, and I won’t pretend it isn’t an invaluable resource, but I find it much more fulfilling to work.  I really love what I do, so that helps.”

Nodding a little to yourself, you reflected on how true that really was; after all, this all began in a classroom where you were enchanted by his passion.

“I suppose the moral of the story is… I’m sorry that I hid things from you,” he concluded firmly.  “I’ve learned that I can’t protect myself from heartache and love you properly at once— I have to pick one.  I want to choose to love you, I want to choose that every day for… well, forever.  If you’ll let me.  But if the secrets are too insurmountable, I won’t judge you.”

You let out a heavy sigh.  “That’s the dilemma of love, isn’t it?  You have to be willing to get hurt.  But the last thing I want is to hurt you, I promise.  And in the end, it really doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor or a fugitive from the law or an alien from space: I love you, really.”

For the first time since he started telling you everything, he seemed to relax.  “I love you too, I hope that much is obvious.”

You nodded, reaching across the table to hold his hand.  “Yeah, it is.  I’m still getting used to that, honestly.”

“Not that I don’t mind being the first,” he tilted his head, “but it’s a shame no one ever cherished you before, in the way that you deserve.”

“You do seem to mind it a little bit, when you always go on about ‘keeping me from my youth’ or ‘restricting me when I should be free’ or whatever,” you recalled, putting on a poor imitation of his accent when you quoted him.

“Well, I guess it’s that I never desired to be the first,” he clarified, staring you down suddenly, “but that I intend to be the last.”

That look… you were already biting your lip and you didn’t even notice it.  “Okay,” you sighed.

“Hm?”

“You can be the last, just take me home,” you whispered, crossing your legs to hold your thighs together as your tongue ran over your teeth.

He could only bear to tear his eyes from you for a second as he called out, “The check, please!”

wanna come over later?  I can’t focus enough to study

You stared down at the text you’d sent Kacey, wondering if it made you sound pathetic.  You didn’t want to seem like the sort of girl who made her boyfriend her whole life, and therefore had no idea what to do with herself while he was gone.  And to be clear, it wasn’t loneliness itself that made you so listless; of course, you missed him plenty, but your inability to get anything done or even enjoy some alone time was disrupted by that sort of numb, shocked feeling you got every time you remembered that he wanted to get married.

Even more shocking: you wanted to get married.

It didn’t feel too soon, it didn’t feel all that sudden, but it felt like it should feel too soon, if that makes any sense.  Maybe you could try to explain it to Kacey if she ever checked her damn phone.

You groaned as you tossed the device away, knowing staring down the screen wouldn’t make her answer any faster.  Having already watched everything good on every streaming service ever, you figured your next step was to move on to the mediocre things on streaming, but you couldn’t decide between a show about renovating tiny-houses or cooking using only leftovers.

It was hard to focus on your choices when you kept playing the moment before he left in your mind over and over.

You nestled in under his arm around your shoulders, tightening your grip around his torso until you caught a glance of his watch.

“Don’t you need to leave soon?  There will be traffic on the way to the airport.”

“No, there shouldn’t be, it’s only a ten minute drive.”

“What?  It’s at least half an hour.”

He laughed a little as he realized the misunderstanding.  “Darling, I’m not going to the airport.  I’m going to a private airport.  For a private plane.”

You cleared your throat.  “Oh… right.  Still getting used to the exorbitantly rich thing.”

“But I suppose I should finish my packing, I think I’ve put off the last of it long enough,” he sighed, sitting up and tearing himself out of your arms even though you were pouting about it.

Before he left he gave you a long kiss at the door, just meant to say goodbye, but then your knees went weak and he had to hold you and it all started to lead from one thing to another very quickly.

“Fuck, Helmut, your flight,” you reminded him breathlessly, holding onto his biceps as he kissed down your neck.

“They’ll wait for me, it’s my fucking plane,” he growled, grabbing your hips hard.  “I need to be inside you one more time before I go.”

Just as the best parts of the memory started to flood back, your phone rang and you jumped up instantly; the sound of 99 Luftballons, your custom ringtone for him that started as a joke but stuck for some reason, told you it was your boyfriend calling and it barely rang for a second before you answered.

“Hi!” you greeted instantly.  You looked at the clock on the wall and did some quick math to realize it was probably almost time for dinner there, when it was still before noon where you were.

“Hello, darling,” he answered back, his voice instantly soothing you as you leaned back against the headboard of your (his) bed.

“Your accent is stronger than when you left,” you noticed.

“This is the first time I’ve spoken English in days,” he explained.  

“How does it feel to be home?”

“Do you mean being in Sokovia, or talking to you?”

“Baaaabe,” you whined playfully, “you’re gonna make me all needy…”

“I just wish I was there to see the effect I was having on you,” he cooed.  “It’s been a bit boring without you— I’m going to bring you with me next time, I assure you.  Not just because I miss you so much, but so you can see the country.  I want you to see my homeland and there’s no one better to show you around than myself.”

“You really love it, don’t you?” you hummed.

“More than almost anything,” he answered, and you knew what he was implying he loved most.  “I know it has… struggled, it isn’t considered exactly a vacation spot by many, but it means everything to me.  I don’t have much family left for you to meet, but I’m sure I’ll find some people to show you off to.”

“I’d love to come with you,” you agreed, “you know I’d go with you anywhere, though.”

“And you need to try the ćevapi!” he added, and you could hear his beaming smile through the phone.  “Sokovian food is very different from Western dishes but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed dreamily, laying back on the pillow as you heard him sigh from the other end.

“God, I miss you,” he breathed, making you hum proudly.

“Miss you too,” you agreed.  “I’ve been thinking about you a lot…”

“Yeah?  I bet I can guess what you were thinking about.”

“Such as?”

“Things I can’t say right now, in case someone hears me,” he chuckled.  “We may not speak English much but they still understand it.”

“Well, I’m all alone,” you purred, “and I’ve been thinking about everything I’m gonna do to you when you get back.”

“Oh fuck, baby, don’t—” he pleaded weakly.

“I really wanna ride you,” you continued in a sultry voice you didn’t even mean to put on, “even though you’re probably too big for that, I just want you so deep in me I can’t fucking breathe—”

“You’re cruel,” he hissed, a low whisper, and you loved his helplessness.

“It’s been so lonely without you, Helmut, I’ve been fucking myself with every toy I can find but nothing fills me up like you do, god I just need your cock.”

“I should’ve had something custom made,” he decided, still whispering but you could hear him smirk, too.  “So it’s only ever me inside you.”

“Even then, it’s not the same… it has to be you, the way you fuck me is just impossible to recreate, nothing’s as good as you, professor.”

He made a strained noise and you giggled happily.  “How long has it been since you’ve called me that?”

“Too long,” you hummed, “I still think it’s pretty hot.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” he chuckled breathlessly, “listen, I have to return to my meeting, and you’ve made it impossible to focus on boring legal things now but I need to try my best.  Alright?  I’ll call you tonight, if you’re still awake.”

Of course, your tonight was his tomorrow morning; you decided not to make him worry by admitting you would stay up all night to be able to talk to him.  “Okay,” you sighed, “good luck in your boring legal meeting.”

He gave one last whispered ‘goodbye’ and the line beeped as the call ended; you sighed and flopped back onto the bed, staring up at your ceiling blankly.

He’d only been gone four days.  How were you supposed to make it to three weeks?

When his plane landed, you were waiting for him in the car, parked on the runway; it was a much quicker process than picking someone up from a traditional airport, plus you got to run to him the second he was off the plane and it made you feel like you were in an old movie or something.

Throwing dignity to the wind, you jumped into his arms and let him spin you around, setting you down to kiss you hard as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips, hands gripping your waist, and you’d been trying to imagine this moment ever since he left but you couldn’t have ever come close to how perfect it was.

“Missed you more,” you promised with a smile.  “Let’s go home, Helmut.”

“Or…” he trailed off, and you raised an eyebrow as you sank back down onto your heels and looked up at him.

“Or?”

“Or we could get back on the plane and tell them to take us wherever we want.”

“I-I have finals!” you gasped.  “So do you!”

“Not until next week,” he dismissed, “this is just for a few days.”

“I haven’t packed any of my stuff!”

“You have your phone, everything else can be bought when we get there,” he shrugged.

“What’s gotten into you?!” you giggled, looking back up at him wildly and wondering how he could seem so calm.

“I’m rich and in love and a little bit impulsive, is that so bad?” he smirked.  “Where do you wanna go, draga?  Rome?  Sydney?  Jakarta?  Nairobi?”

“...Luxembourg,” you blurted out.  

He chuckled a little, eyes sparkling.  “Why there?”

“First place I thought of.  Is that a good enough reason to want to go someplace?”

“It is to me,” he grinned.  “You get on the plane and get comfortable, I’ll tell the pilot where we’re going.”

“Okay,” you laughed.  “This is crazy, you know.”

“I know,” he nodded, taking your hand and guiding you up the stairs back onto the jet.

It wasn’t like you’d never experienced the concept of travel before, but it was still blowing your mind that you’d woken up in your (his) bed this morning and now, in the same day, you were spending your evening in box seats at the Luxembourg National Opera.  He picked out the gown you were wearing (only fair since he was picking up the tab) and at first you had worried you couldn’t pull it off, but the way he kept glancing over at you made you confident you looked just fine.

“You’re not watching the performance,” you whispered to him, leaning closer to his shoulder.

“You don’t really need to see an opera, do you?” he frowned.  “Can’t I just look at you?”

“These tickets cost an arm and a leg, you can look at me for free!” you hissed, but you softened a bit when his hand moved to rest on yours and he kissed your temple softly.

The two of you stayed that way for the rest of the performance, leaning on each other and holding hands.  Even when you'd been together this long, you still felt butterflies when he interlaced his fingers with yours.

When the show was over and the lights came up to a wave of applause, he looked at you with bright eyes and took your hand.

"Let's walk to the hotel, yes?" he suggested.  "Explore the proper way instead of a cab."

"I can't walk that far in these shoes," you frowned.

"I'll carry them for you!"

"I can't walk that far barefoot," you laughed.

"Then I'll carry you," he offered, extending his hand for you to take.

And that was how you ended up being carried piggyback through the streets of Luxembourg, across cobblestone that reflected the soft yellow glow of the street lamps and sconces, in the most expensive dress you'd ever worn.

Life is crazy like that, sometimes.

"You know, this place is a bit like Sokovia," he decided, "but with a better GDP and fewer churches."

"As I understand it, most of the world has a better GDP and fewer churches than Sokovia," you quipped.

"Hey!" he yelped in defense.  "Just because it's completely true doesn't mean you have any right to say it!"

You laughed, holding onto his neck tighter but trying your best not to inadvertently choke him.

"Typical of a Westerner to have something snarky to say while standing on the backs of hard-working Sokovians," he scoffed, "or, in this case, riding on the back of one hard-working Sokovian."

"Hard-working?  What exactly does a Baron do for work?" you interrogated.

"Uh, carry spoiled girlfriends around tiny European countries, for one," he enumerated, "and when we're not casually becoming distinguished professors in America, we have to manage the various projects of the estate… the Zemo family— which is just me, at this point— runs eleven orphanages.  I visit those sometimes and make sure they have everything they need."

"Okay, I don't know that I'd call that hard work, but it's very important so you get a pass," you decided.

"This is us," he announced he stopped walking.

"What's us?" you asked, looking around.

"This building, this is where we're staying," he explained as he set you down and made sure you were balancing right on your heels.

You let your jaw drop as you looked up at the building, admiring the carved stone face with its intricate detail, designs that evoked a certain prestige that just couldn't be found on American buildings.

"Wow," you nodded, "you really don't skimp on your last-minute random vacations, huh?"

"Not if I can avoid it," he shrugged, leading you inside.

For an exterior so gothic, the hotel’s lobby was modern and clean, though certainly not lacking in extravagant touches; you were a bit too tired to properly appreciate that, though, leaning up against his shoulder as he conversed with the front desk clerk in German in order to finish the check-in process.

The hotel had one of those elevators with mirrors on the walls, and a more energetic version of yourself might have noticed the fooling-around potential of the space, but instead you just let your eyes fall shut until you reached the correct floor.  Being an incredibly fancy place, the rooms had actual keys and not just RFID keycards— you thought Helmut looked quite regal in his opera tux, unlocking a mahogany door with a golden key.  Hard to imagine him in a windowless office and a messenger bag on his shoulder now, but you could remember falling for him in that state just the same.

He let you in first— a true gentleman, of course— and the moment the door to the room shut behind him, you groaned and flopped down onto the bed unceremoniously.  He, meanwhile, undid his bowtie and unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt before he laid down on his side by you, running his fingers over your back left exposed by the dress for a few moments before he pulled away.

“Darling?” he called to you softly, but you were too lazy to lift your head from where they were buried in the pillows.

“Mhmm?” you answered back, muffled.

“I…” he began, sighing before he started over.  “Well, nevermind.”

“What is it?” you pressed, turning your head over to see him— but then you saw his face, and the conflicted look it wore, and you sat up to lay closer to him.  “What’s wrong?” you asked gently, watched the way his hair fell into his face when he combed his fingers through it and glanced away from you.

“Draga, I must admit that I lied to you before about why I was returning home,” he spoke, and you were confused but said nothing.  You would’ve worried if it weren’t for the look on his face— calm, yet with something brewing in his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe.  But you trusted him.  When your brain would normally fill the silence with a thousand awful ideas of his real reason for his visit to Novi Grad, it was suddenly quiet.  “It wasn’t just for management of the estate… I had to retrieve something.”

He reached into his coat pocket, fishing out a small velvety box with red and gold along the edges.  Your heart either stopped, or beat harder than it ever had before; at a certain point the difference was irrelevant.  

“I know I should wait longer, for the perfect time, or even just any other time than when you’re not jet-lagged and I’m not so nervous I can’t even think, but…”

A sudden sigh fell from your lips when he opened the box and showed you the ornate ring inside— you couldn’t tell if it was aquamarine or blue diamonds but they shined brilliantly nonetheless.

“My mother wore this ring from the day my father gave it to her until the day she died,” he explained.  “I would like for you to wear it.”

Too stunned to do much else, you looked up at him blankly.

“I want you to be my wife,” he clarified, like he thought you didn’t understand what he was asking, and finally you snapped back to reality (as overwhelming as that reality was).  You smiled, even nearly laughing,  as you leaned in to almost press your lips to his— but when he leaned closer you kept him at bay with a hand on his collar.

“Say it again,” you requested coyly.

“You’re going to make me propose twice?” he realized, and you nodded as you bit your lip.  “I’ll say it a thousand times, draga: be my wife.”

“Two down, 998 to go,” you grinned, laughing when he growled and pulled you closer to bury his face in your neck.  You definitely noticed the longer beard when it tickled your skin with every kiss to your pulse.

“Be my wife, be my wife, my wife,” he cooed, casually starting to slip the ring on your finger before you dodged him.

“No no no, you haven’t said it a thousand times yet,” you chided him, “and I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

“Oh, darling, don’t dare me to make you say ‘yes’ as if I don’t make you scream it out every night.”

And that’s exactly what he did: make you say yes a thousand times to a thousand proposals, pinning you down and showering you in love relentlessly.  For once you just accepted it; for once he didn’t feel guilty.  

In a certain sense it was sort of hasty, half-dressed and unexpected with him fumbling to hold your dress out of the way while you clung to his shirt and kissed him hungrily: but still, it was nothing less than sensual, due in part to every beautiful thing he whispered to you until you were too far gone to understand them.  He still kept going after that, even, just to feel the weight of his words on his tongue.  Just to promise himself to you whether you could hear him or not.

Who could say how far into the night it went?  That was the magical thing about it all— neither of you cared, neither of you worried or even thought twice about what time it was or if the sun would rise soon or if it would never rise at all and this was actually the beginning of the apocalypse.  It didn’t make a difference; because whether the world ended now or in a decade or in a billion years, you would be together for the rest of your lives.

We were young and in love and I knew nothing could stop us, you remembered something he said.  He said it like it was ridiculous, just a frivolous dream; and in retrospect, he may have been right about that specific situation, but now you understood why he had felt that way— you too felt that euphoric glow of knowing you were on the edge of something amazing.  Maybe not something perfect, but something that would work out for the best in the end.

When he was finally satisfied with how many times he had satisfied you and you fell asleep on his chest, he took the opportunity to slip the ring on your finger, admiring how beautiful your hand looked wearing it before he kissed the top of your head.

“Fits perfectly,” he whispered to you in spite of your unconsciousness.  “We’ll be so happy, draga… I promise.”

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Stark!Fem!Reader) -- part one

I know, I know. I just finished a 100k fic about Aaron Hotchner, I have another fic for him coming in May, and yet here I am, writing a Bucky Barnes fic. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier has done things to me, guys. I knew I was going to fall right back in love with Bucky and I totally did. So here’s this xx.

(Also, as for the timeline, don’t question it. I’m kind of imagining this on its own separate timeline, but I’ll pull details from everywhere)

Summary: You’re (possibly) Tony Stark’s daughter. You’re also (possibly) on the run from the law. What better place to show up than the Avengers Tower? [Oh and no Bucky in this one! He comes in part 2]

Warnings: angst, mentions of death (your mom), mentions of homelessness, Tony is kinda an asshole (but I still think it’s in character)

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST 

You weren’t going to come here.

It was a last-resort kind of option. A I-don’t-want-to-sleep-on-a-park-bench-(again) option. An is-going-to-jail-really-better-than-just-knocking-on-a-door? Kind of option.

Turns out, knocking on a door is better than going to jail. Especially when Tony Stark’s shocked face is almost as comical as your mom’s.

Currently, you’re soaking wet (damn skies decided to open up before you could get to the Tower) and sitting in Tony’s office while he paces and talks on the phone.

“Pepper, honey, I know this is bad timing, but I need you to pick up, okay? I have a kid here— Okay, she’s glaring at me, so not a kid— No, you know what? She is a kid and she’s getting water everywhere and she says she’s my kid and I’m two seconds from going into crisis mode.”

You and me both, you think to yourself. If you knew Tony was this much of a drama queen, you would’ve just gone to the police station. It was closer, anyway. Damn.

Tony ends the voicemail (which is his fifth one, you believe) and spins around to face you, a nervous smile on his lips. “Okay. How old are you again?”

“19,” you repeat tiredly. It was one of the first questions he asked you. “And I don’t actually know if I’m really your kid, okay? My mom says you are, but I don’t know.”

“Where is your mom?” His eyebrows raise like he’s brilliant and has found a way out. “Can you call her?”

“I don’t have a phone, but even if I did, no, I can’t,” you pause, rolling your eyes at his confusion. “She’s dead, Tony. She passed away last month.”

His confusion settles into shock. “Oh.”

“Oh is right,” you chuckle, ignoring your teeth chattering. “And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I had literally anywhere else I could go.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by his phone. He hurriedly answers and returns to pacing. “Pepper! Hi!— Okay, slow down, yes I’m telling the truth! Why would I lie— Okay, that was one time. Listen, this time, I’m not lying.” Pause. “Yes, there really is a kid here. You’re serious? Okay, fine, hang on.”

You watch as Tony starts a video call, and then turns the phone around on you.

Pepper Potts’s eyes widen when she sees you staring back at her, a cold and shivering mess.

“Um, hi?” Your voice is small and wary.

“Shit,” Pepper replies, and Tony turns the phone back on his face.

“See? Not lying.”

“For God’s sake, Tony!” Pepper yells. “Get the poor girl some dry clothes! I’ll be there as soon as I can, but try not to freeze her to death before I can get there. Christ.” The call ends.

You muffle a giggle in your hand, looking up to find a tired stare from Tony. Your laughter ends and you mirror his expression. “I told you dude, if I had literally anywhere else I could go, I’d be there.”

“Homeless shelter?” Tony questions.

“A homeless shelter in New York? You mean a breeding ground for disease and sexual assault?”

Your blunt reply has Tony faltering, but he accepts it. “Right. Let’s just— Let’s get you into something dry and warm and maybe get some food in you.” His eyes graze over your form. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Do you really want to ask me that?”

He thinks it over, and nods. “Never mind. Follow me.”

You stand and follow him, leaving a trail of water wherever you step.

He grimaces, pausing in his steps to say, “FRIDAY, will you dry the floors in here before I get back?”

“Who the hell are you talking to—”

Your question is promptly cut off by a female voice answering Tony. “Yes, Mr. Stark.” The voice echoes all around and sounds human, but distinctly sounds like it isn’t.

“What the fuck was that?”

“FRIDAY,” Tony replies. “Stands for ‘Female Replacement Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth’. A mouthful, I know, so I just call her FRIDAY. She’s my AI and she’s all over this building.”

“She— Never mind,” you shake your head. “Cool. Weird, but cool. I guess.”

Tony smiles, but then continues walking, exiting his office.

You follow closely behind, trying not to get too distracted by everything you’re seeing. All you saw on the way up here was the lobby, the elevator, and then right into Tony’s office. Now, you’re seeing out glass windows and down into the rest of the Tower. You have a clean view into what looks like a lab, and you see a few people working in there, but they’re too focused to even bother looking elsewhere.

After stepping into the elevator with you, Tony says, “Wanda should have some extra clothes you can borrow and if not she can at least help you...find some.”

He eyes you like he doesn’t quite know what to do with you, which you think is remarkably humbling of him. Part of you expected (what with all the stories you’ve heard and read about him) that he would act like he knew exactly what to do — regardless of whether it was right.

Maybe he will act that way later, but right now he almost seems frightened, and it’s weirdly comforting.

“Wanda is one of the…” Tony pauses. “You know where we are, right?”

You raise one eyebrow. “You mean do I know this is the Avengers Tower and that the Avengers are real people?”

“Yes…”

“Then yes.”

“Okay,” Tony says, straightening and composing himself once more. “Wanda is one of the Avengers.”

“I know.”

Tony hesitates, and the elevator is still going. “You’re not some crazy fan, right?”

“Dude, I told you. If I had anywhere else to be, I would’ve gone there.” You shrug. “Yeah, it’s cool or whatever, but I’m not going to faint.”

“Good to know,” he says, though you faintly hear him mutter, “cool or whatever,” to himself.

Finally, the elevator stops and the doors open to a new floor, one that you quickly realize is what can be described as the residential area for the Avengers. Their rooms are on this floor, along with a kitchen and a living area of sorts — both of which are empty right now.

Tony notices you looking around and says, “Most everyone is out on a mission right now, so it’s just me and Wanda around.”

“Okay,” you say.

Tony takes you down a hall and around a corner, and stops at a door. He knocks a couple times and then says, “Hey Wan, it’s me and I have a...an issue that I need your help with.”

The door opens a moment later to reveal Wanda Maximoff, a younger woman closer to your age wearing a confused expression. “An issue?” She questions, and then her eyes land on you. “Oh, hi.”

“Hey,” you offer a small smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Wanda,” she replies, offering a smile in return. But when she looks at Tony, it drops. “What did you do?”

“Why does everyone always assume that I’ve done something?”

“Because when have you not done something?”

Tony pauses. “Fair point. Look, the kid needs some clothes, and I figured borrowing something old of yours would be more comfortable than Avengers workout gear.”

Wanda seems surprised Tony even thought of that. “Of course,” she looks at you. “You can take a shower to warm up, if you want. But I definitely have some clothes you can borrow.”

“Thanks.”

“Just uh…” Tony pauses, waving around like the words will appear in thin air. “Bring her to the kitchen when she’s done.”

“Standing right here,” you mutter, earning a laugh from Wanda.

“Go away,” she waves at Tony. “I’ve got this.”

Tony walks away, clearly elated to be rid of you and have you in the hands of a responsible adult that is not himself.

Wanda shuts her door with a roll of her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how Pepper keeps him afloat,” she murmurs. “Anyway, on to you— Oh, before all that, I can read minds, but I am actively blocking that right now. I’ll try really hard not to be nosy, but don’t worry, I am really good at keeping secrets because of it.”

You can’t help but smile. “It’s okay. There’s not much that goes on up here anyway.”

She gives you a skeptical look. “I may not be listening, but the amount of energy I am using right now to not listen tells me that’s far from true.”

You just shrug in response, not wanting to get into it.

Thankfully, she keeps her promise and moves on, too, walking toward her closet. “I have loads of t-shirts and hoodies, skirts, too, but I do have some leggings. Do you have a preference?”

“Just whatever you’re comfortable with letting me borrow.”

Part of you thinks she read your mind, though, because she hands you leggings and a t-shirt, along with one of her many zip-up hoodies. You were silently wishing she wouldn’t hand you a skirt.

“My bathroom is just through there and there’s clean towels on the shelf if you want to shower.” Wanda smiles, gesturing toward the open door at the other end of her room.

“Thanks.” You walk over and quickly pee, not realizing until you entered that you’ve desperately had to piss this entire time.

You decide against a shower for the sake of not wanting to take up too much time, and not feeling up for being naked in a stranger’s shower (albeit a kind stranger).

After changing into Wanda’s clothes, and hanging your wet ones over the shower curtain, you go back into Wanda’s bedroom. She’s sitting on her bed, mindlessly moving a red ball of energy between her fingers and up her arms.

She smiles upon seeing you, but doesn’t drop the energy. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” you nod, mesmerized by the glowing ball of red in her palms. “That’s so dope.”

“Dope?”

“Really cool,” you clarify.

“Oh,” she giggles, and the energy evaporates. “I think I’ve heard Peter say that a few times.”

You have no clue who Peter is, but you don’t question it. “Should we go out there?”

“Yes,” she slides off the bed. “I’ll come with you. Tony can be a handful.”

That’s what your mom used to say about him, too.

You follow Wanda silently out into the hallway, and as you both get closer to the living area and kitchen, you hear two voices this time. One is Tony’s and after a few more steps, you find out that the other voice is Pepper.

“You’re saying she just showed up out of nowhere?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying because that’s exactly what happened.”

“And she says you’re her father?”

“Allegedly,” Tony scoffs, resting his hands on the kitchen counter. “I don’t actually know. I can’t remember that far back.”

“How far back?” Pepper asks, arms crossed over her chest.

“She says she’s 19.”

“I’ll be 20 this year,” you interject, enjoying the way Tony fumbles and tries to put on his mask one more time.

“Hey kiddo,” he says. “This is Pepper Potts, she’s the one who wrangles me in.”

Pepper shakes her head before offering you a warm smile and her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m sorry you seem to be going through such a tough time.”

“It’s okay,” you say while shaking her hand. “I’m sorry for barging in and all. I didn’t know where else to really go.”

“Nope, that’s okay,” she assures you. “We’re going to get this figured out. Do you mind if you and I just talk for a minute?”

“That sounds good.”

“Awesome,” Pepper smiles. “Okay, Tony, just...go to the lab or something. But...go away.”

You and Wanda share a look as Tony saunters off, no doubt muttering under his breath.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Wanda says, gesturing between you and Pepper. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you smile. “Thanks again for the clothes. I’ll try to give them back soon.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wanda shakes her head before heading back down the hallway to her room.

You’re left alone with Pepper, who doesn’t terrify you, but the prospect of what conversation is going to come next does.

“Do you want something to eat?” She asks. “I can order something while we talk.”

“Um...pizza?” It’s inexpensive and never fails you in terms of being able to eat it.

“Sure,” Pepper smiles gently. “What kind?”

After telling her your favorite toppings, the two of you take a seat on one of the couches. She finishes placing the order on her phone before she sets down the device and gives you her full attention.

“So. Tony told me your mom passed away,” Pepper pauses. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“It’s alright.”

“He also told me you didn’t show up with anything at all,” Pepper says. “Do you mind if FRIDAY does an identity check?”

“Is that like a background check?”

“Essentially, but it’s not that extensive. It’s just so we know the truth about who you are.” She pauses again, sensing your hesitation. “Unfortunately, it’s just a precaution we have to take.”

“Okay,” you agree, realizing you have nothing left to lose. “Uh, how do I…?”

“Right,” Pepper chuckles. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. Potts.”

“Will you please do an identity check on…”

“Y/N M/N L/N.”

“One moment.”

“It should just take a few seconds,” Pepper explains. “Oh, and there will be a hologram that will appear— Right there.”

“Identity confirmed.”

The hologram appears in front of the TV, showing general information about you alongside a picture of you — a picture that you think is on your driver’s license, wherever the ashes of that is.

“Y/N M/N L/N, born to Isabella L/N in 2001 in a hospital in Newark, New Jersey. She was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

Your eyes widen. “That’s weird.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” Pepper says, and the hologram disappears. “It is a little freaky. I’m still not totally used to all of Tony’s tech, but I’ve stopped worrying about it. Good news is, you are who you say you are.” She pauses. “But I do have to ask why you decided to show up here? You told Tony if you had anywhere else to go, you would’ve, so I understand.”

“It’s the first place I could think of,” you admit quietly. “I’ve been living on the streets for a few weeks now.”

Pepper pales. “You’ve been homeless?”

You nod. “Mom died in a house fire. It was our house. I was on a walk to the gas station to get her favorite candy bar because she had been having a rough time.”

“And she…”

“By the time I came out of the gas station, fire trucks were blaring past and I could smell the smoke. The flames were high enough to see from a mile away.”

“I...I am so sorry.”

You shrug, surprised you’re not crying. “Everything I had was in there, except the clothes I was wearing when I got here. She had my cell phone because we could only afford the one, but it burned, too. Everything burned.

“Anyway, she… She always told me Tony was my dad and I didn’t believe her, but then she showed me pictures of them together, and it made me believe her. So I figured coming here would be better than staying on the streets or going to another shelter.”

Pepper nods. “Okay, well, I’m glad you came here. I am. But...Tony can’t do anything for you if he isn’t your real father.”

“I understand.”

“We can do a paternity test,” she offers. “If you want to, I’ll get him to agree. It wouldn’t be the first one he’s had to do, but this one…this one would probably be the first I think he’d do willingly.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Really?”

She nods. “The others have been infants and the mothers have mostly been after money. The paternity tests were used in court.”

Your eyes widen. “I do not want to go to court.”

“You won’t,” she says. “The test could be done here and kept between the three of us. But, until then, it is up to Tony what he wants to do — whether or not he wants to let you stay. I’m not saying I will allow him to kick you out, but if he doesn’t want you to stay here, I will do everything I can to make sure you are somewhere safe.” She pauses, watching your expression as it changes. “I’m sorry if this sounds so harsh. It’s a recycled speech I’ve had to give a thousand times,” she laughs airily. “But I do mean it when I say I will make sure you’re safe. I don’t care if it comes out of my paycheck.”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” you start shaking your head, but she stops you.

“You are special, I can tell,” Pepper says. “And Wanda seems to like you, which is telling. In the time that she’s been here, it hasn’t been easy to get her to open up to others.”

You felt comfortable around Wanda, too. The same kind of comfortable you feel with Pepper right now.

Before anything else can be said, footsteps are heard and the smell of pizza fills your nostrils.

“Did you order me pizza? You’re too kind, Ms. Potts,” Tony’s voice floats from the hallway before he enters the living room, pizza box in hand.

“Actually, it’s for Y/N,” Pepper says.

“It’s fine,” you wave them off, but neither of them let it slide.

“Nope,” Tony says, placing the box down on the table in front of the couch. “I’ll get plates. You’re eating.”

“But if you—”

“Ah-ah,” he holds up his index finger, raising his eyebrows. “No arguing.”

“Seriously?” You deadpan, rolling your eyes.

You open the box and pull out a slice while he’s busy wasting time getting plates. When he returns, he hands you a plate, even though you won’t use it. He plops down next to Pepper and grabs a slice, shoving half of it in his mouth.

“Want some?” He gestures the half-eaten slice toward Pepper.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s your favorite, not mine.”

Your chewing slows. “It’s your favorite?”

“Yeah,” Tony replies, eating the other half of his slice.

“It’s my favorite, too,” you reply slowly, reaching for a second piece.

Tony smiles, grabbing a second slice, too. “You’ve got good taste, kid.” He takes less of a big bite this time. “So, what’s the consensus? How much money do you want?”

“Tony—” Pepper starts, but he doesn’t let her finish.

“Or, let me guess, paternity test. And money. College? I can give you a scholarship.”

With every word that falls from his lips, you get more and more angry.

“Or are we just waiting for the police to pick you up? I have to admit, that’s boring, but if that’s what we’re doing—”

“That is enough,” Pepper hisses.

“Um,” you swallow the bite of pizza that you had in your mouth. “Thanks for the pizza and...dry clothes and the talk, but I’m gonna go.”

“Y/N--” Pepper tries.

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head as you stand. “It’s okay, it was a bad idea anyway. Don’t worry about the test, I mean, I’m an adult anyway, it’s not like it would make any difference.”

“She has a point,” Tony adds.

You ignore him. “I’ll just...yeah.”

The two of them are still bickering when you run off, toward the elevator. The doors open quickly and you let the elevator swallow you whole.

You were stupid, so stupid for coming here. You would’ve been better off on another park bench or something.

When the elevator reaches the lobby, you’re running out as fast as your feet will carry you.

+++

You’re thankful for Wanda’s hoodie when the cold wind of New York starts biting into your skin. It’s a miracle to find an open park bench, and it’d be a miracle if it could be a few degrees warmer outside, but you know that’s asking for way too much.

Still, you try to relax and rest. You have no clue where to go from here. Maybe back to a shelter, but the idea of that makes your body shiver for a different reason other than the cold.

You zip the hoodie up to your chin and wrap your arms around yourself, keeping the heat in as much as you can. Eventually, because of the exhaustion, you find yourself drifting off.

When you wake, it’s with a jolt because the empty seat next to you on the bench is now filled.

“What do you want?” After realizing the person is none other than Tony Stark, you can’t be bothered to be polite.

“For you to come back to the Tower before it starts raining.”

You sit up straighter, shaking your head. “No thanks. Did Pepper put you up to this?”

“Actually, I put myself up to this,” he replies. “I was a jackass. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, kid.”

“Maybe stop calling me ‘kid.’”

“I will when you quit acting like one.”

You lift your head to glare at him. “That’s a low blow. Even for you.”

“I just want you to come back to the Tower with me,” Tony says. “I’m sorry. It was a low blow, and so was everything else I said earlier. But I refuse to let you sleep here when there’s a perfectly fine and vacant room at the Tower. Right next to Wanda’s room.”

You mull it over for a second. The mention of Wanda is enticing because despite today’s circumstances, she did seem kind and harmless. The two of you seemed like you could get along well, too, which is rare for you — and her, apparently.

“Fine,” you cave. “But only because this bench is uncomfortable as hell.”

Tony sighs, but doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he stands, gesturing for you to follow, and you do. “Okay, come on. I parked over here.”

“Parked?”

“Yeah, ki— You walked a good thirty minute drive from the Tower.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “But it is about to rain, so.”

He clicks something and what was once a black smudge in your vision suddenly lit up as the car’s engine roared to life, turning the headlights on, too.

You can’t help but scoff.

“What?” Tony asks through a laugh. “It’s my car.”

“It’s so flashy.”

He accepts it. “Fair point.”

You have no clue what make or model the car is, but regardless it’s too sleek and too low to the ground. Thank God you aren’t driving.

You hop in the passenger seat, unashamed that you want to get out of the wind. Tony silently turns the seat warmers on when he gets in.

After driving for a few minutes, Tony breaks the silence.

“I need to call Pepper to let her know I found you,” he says, and without another word, the car begins calling Pepper. Well, FRIDAY does, because she’s in his cars, too.

Pepper picks up almost immediately. “Please tell me you found her.”

“I did, Pep.”

“Thank God,” she says, exhaling deeply. “Is she in the car? Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you speak up.

“Good,” she replies. “I was scared he made you angrier instead of apologizing.”

You’re still angry with him, but you don’t say that. “He apologized.”

“Good,” Pepper says. “Drive safe, Tony, please.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll only go ten above the speed limit.”

“Tony—”

“Call disconnected.”

“Oops,” Tony says. “Do you want a milkshake? Late night snack?”

“I’m good.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, speeding up.

+++

You got a milkshake.

Not because you really wanted one, but because Tony ordered you one anyway. He guessed your favorite — it’s the same as his, but still — and didn’t let you argue. And you’re not one to let something go to waste if it’s right in front of you.

Pepper and Wanda look more than relieved when you enter the Tower beside Tony, milkshake still in hand.

“I have returned with the… With Y/N.”

You roll your eyes.

“Thank you,” Pepper says, but she still gives Tony a glare. When she looks back at you, her expression is soft. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t stay for long, I promise.”

Pepper shook her head. “You can stay for as long as you need to. There’s no sense in you sleeping anywhere else when there’s a room here you can have.”

“I could use the company,” Wanda adds, smiling gently. “If you want.”

You smile in return, but you’re still wary. You look at Tony to see what he thinks, but to your complete surprise, he doesn’t look angry or anything.

“As long as you don’t ask for an entire floor, you can stay,” he says.

That’s about as good a response you’re going to get out of him, it seems, so you accept it.

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[kimnjss]

only you | jjk

⤑  series: cherry pickers

⤑ pairing: gamer(fuckboi)!jungkook x video vixen(virgin)!reader

⤑ genre: some angst :/... nd fluff!! (implied smut)

⤑ rating: explicit 

⤑ word count: 3.3K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: slight dry humping, groping, neck kissing, a lot of inner monologuing, yn turns her emotions on nd off (lowkey scary), there are some tears, jungkook shows up w a ponytail nd glasses (what the actual fuckkk), 

⤑ A/N: uhm!? i think there’s like one more chapter left ., hello??? this was wicked fast i didn’t expect it but yeah . pretty sure there’s one more after this one guys??? 

JUNE 15TH, 2020 | 23:43

Fighting Jimin. That's the only solution you can come up with for the way he's been acting the past few days. You had to fight him. Not only did he post, and tag!, you in an image of you and Jungkook... from a happier time, he has been 'accidentally' sending you alike pictures and even gone as far as to ask you to find a picture of the two of you for him to post.

What was his problem? It was like he was ignoring the fact that the two of you were on the rocks? All for what? To further this brand new interest in photography that really didn't have to include either you or Jungkook? 

It was annoying. The constant reminder of the good thing that you had, which was always directly followed by the worry of whether or not the two of you would be able to get back to the way you were. Of course, you wanted to be with Jungkook. You... had really strong feelings for him, but at the same time, you weren't sure if the Jungkook you fell for even existed.

What if it was all an act?

It didn't feel like one. Jungkook always seemed so genuine, so pure whenever he was with you. He took his time getting to know you, it really felt like he was himself around you. And he really has no given you any reason to doubt your relationship before, so why now? 

He explained himself, has given you the space that you asked for... so were you just being stubborn? Overreacting? Or reacting just the right amount? You couldn't tell, but the more you thought about it the stronger the urge to just go and see him grew. And Jimin's daily semi-hourly messages for couple shots of the two of you were not helping.

Now it seemed like every little thing reminded you of him. Had been doing such a great job at removing him from your thoughts, but with each scroll through your camera roll, you're hit with another memory and then swarmed with the countless memories you made in your own home.

You contemplated selling the place but ruled that as crazy. Maybe you'd just rent it out? Something. Anything so that everywhere you turn, you wouldn't be bombarded with all things Jungkook. The couch where the two of you spent nights cuddled up, kitchen where he'd cook for you, bedroom where you...

It was all becoming too much, a little bit overwhelming at times too. But bearable if you concentrated hard enough. You weren't really breaking until late one night. No text from Jimin, but you still found yourself scrolling through your camera roll. Smiling at a picture the two of you had taken.

Just of your fingers intertwined over the middle console of his car, nothing major but you find yourself missing how well his fingers fit in yours. The simple way you'd trace the tattoos printed on his knuckles. They were always so warm in yours and he never minded how cold you always were. Took it upon himself to warm you up. Oh! And the way he'd mindlessly reach for your hands whenever you were laying together, toying with them as he rambled about God knows what.

You missed him. So much, it hurt. All you wanted was to be near him, fuck everything else. Why did everything else have to be so complicated? Why did you have to ever find out about that stupid bet? Things were so much better when you had no idea what he and his ex-friends talked about. He'd still be in your arms right now, playing with your fingers if it wasn't for that.

Before you even have the chance to stop yourself, fresh tears are rolling down your cheeks. A sob breaking through your throat as salty droplets land on the screen of your phone. For the first time, in a very long time, you feel lonely. And the only person that you want to be with is Jungkook. Positive if you were in a room full of people and he wasn't there, this lonely feeling wouldn't go away.

You needed to call him. Hear his voice, his laugh, anything. You needed him.

The phone only rings once before he's picking up, sounding out of breath as if he had been working out. Little did you know, Jungkook had been waiting weeks for your call. Ready to run the moment your familiar ringtone was blaring through his phone speakers. His voice is breathy, but it still makes your heart skip a beat. “Hello?”

“Jungkook,” As soon as his name is leaving your lips, you're realizing how much you've missed saying it. And that thought alone has you crying harder. “Jungkook...” You repeat with a heavy sigh, head falling in your hand as you try to wipe the tears that just won't stop coming.

He shushes you on the other line, the sound of your cries has a crumbling feeling taking over his chest. He hated that he's the reason you sound like that, that he's the one that hurt you. All he wants to do is hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay, but he wasn't sure if that would be the truth.

There was only one thing that he could tell you that he was sure of. So he's apologizing, over and over again. For what he did, for what he didn't do, for making you cry. The pained sound of his voice only has your sobs growing louder, because he's hurting too. None of this made sense, you wanted to be together. So why not just be together?

“C-can you come over... please?”

He's nearly rushing for the front door at the quiet sound of your voice. Had hoped to hear you say that, wanted nothing more than to be with you right now. Even if it was only for a little while. He missed you, all he wanted was to see you. Three weeks was too long for him to spend away from you.

Then again, this wasn't about him. “Are you sure?”

“No. I feel like I'm all broken up. And it's your fault... but only you can make me feel better. I know that.” You're huffing, obviously frustrated with yourself. Ruffling is heard from your end of the phone and he can only imagine you're roughly wiping at your face. One final sniffle sounding, followed by a sharp clear of your throat. Mentally deciding that that was enough. No more crying.

He can almost feel the wall going back up, shielding him from the emotions you had let slip. Locking them back up where they couldn't make you look weak. He can even hear the difference in your tone now as if you hadn't just been crying to him two seconds ago.

“Yeah, come over.”

JUNE 16TH, 2020 | 00:27

Jungkook shows up at your front door almost immediately. Did not need to be told twice, he was on his way as soon as the words were leaving your mouth. Handsome, like he always is. 

Long hair pulled out of his face, you had said it was cute once so he figured he'd try to appeal to you. His white long sleeve is clean, baggy gray sweats hanging low on his hips. He looks like your Jungkook. Despite the weeks you spent apart, he still looks the same. So inviting, you wanted to be in his arms.

A pair of glasses rest on the tip of his nose and through them, you can see the slight red of his pretty brown eyes, the puffiness that surrounds them. Jimin had mentioned a few times before how much he's cried in the past few weeks, you never thought it would be this obvious though. It makes your heart hurt.

He's closing the door behind him after you let him in, kicking his shoes off in the threshold and then staring at you. Neither of you sure what to do next, what to say. It's the first time that you feel awkward around each other and it kills you. Nothing was ever awkward with Jungkook, he was always so eager and obvious.

But now, it was like he didn't even know where to look.

“You can go sit down,” You say after a while of just standing there, silently competing to see who can avoid eye contact the longest. 

It's weird, normally he'd be kicking off his shoes and heading straight to the couch. Demanding that you sit too so he can put his head on your lap. Much different from the careful steps that he takes across the living room as if he's never been there before. He's sitting with his head bowed, hands clasped in front of him.

And you almost expect him to mumble out a: 'Nice place you got here,'. He doesn't. What he does do has you almost convinced that things aren't so bad between the two of you now. In the shyest, sweetest Jungkook voice, he's saying, “Come sit with me too,” It's quieter than you're used too, but still holds a certain familiarity to it that you can't mask your smile.

There's a lot you need to get off your chest, but you have no idea where to start. You don't have it in you to be mad at him anymore, it had you feeling heavy all this time and you just wanted to let it go. You just wanted to be with him, but you knew that in order for that to happen properly... the two of you needed to talk.

“You told me you loved me.” His words have been like a skipping record since he was rushing them out. Despite the undesirable nature, he was telling you, he had still told you and it hasn't left your mind since.

Jungkook's eyes are going wide, cheeks turning pink, caught off guard with the way you're able to just blurt it out. He had said it and meant it, never thought about taking it back. But wished he had done it differently. At the moment, he was panicked, worried that he was losing you so it came out.

If he had the chance to do it again, he'd come up with a speech, something that let you know how much you mean to him, how lucky he thought he was to get to be with you... and then he'd say it. Not in the midst of an argument as an attempt to get you to stay with him. That was fucked on his part, though.

And there was nothing he could do about it, the cat was already out of the bag. “Yes. I said that. And I meant it.” He's not sure where you're going with this conversation if you're preparing him for the clean break of your relationship or whatever, but he urges himself to be patient. You're the one in charge because he had hurt you.

This was your call.

“I know you have changed, Jungkook. You're so much different from when I first met you. I can see that. I just... the bet made me doubt whether or not the changes I saw were genuine. I didn't know what to believe, but now.” Weeks upon weeks, you spent thinking about this. Weighing your options, thinking, and rethinking the situation. You wanted to be right.

You wanted this to be right. “Now, I want to believe you, Jungkook. How you were when you were with me... I don't think someone can fake that. I kinda knew you loved me before you said it, you know? I could feel it or whatever. I don't think something like that could be all for pretend,” You're not even looking at him, but you can feel the way hope lifts his body.

He's all but jumping at the chance to assure you. “It wasn't pretend, I swear. Every last thing between us was all real. I fell in love with you, Yn. I love you.” He's reaching for your hands, lacing your fingers together. His are warm against yours and the warmth is quickly spreading throughout your entire body.

Warming your cheeks and coaxing fresh tears to pool at the brim of your eyes. “I love you too,” If you had held it in a second longer, you're positive you would've puked. Something like that needed to be said out loud. And from the way his face lights up from your slightly teary confession, it's worth it.

Jungkook moves before he can stop himself, leaning forward to cover your lips with his. It's a soft, quick kiss that doesn't last long before he's realizing what he's doing. Quick to pull away, that light pink dusting over his cheeks as he mumbles out an apology.

“It's okay. Just, uhm, one more thing.” He's leaning back to give you some space you don't exactly favor. Fingers pushing through his hair as he nods, teeth and tongue working over his lip. “Of course. What is it?”

He looks ready to fix any issue you might have with being him and you don't doubt that he'd work himself making sure that everything was all right. That's the thing, though. There weren't any real problems being with him, Jungkook was a good guy. You knew that and he showed you time and time again, just in case you forgot.

Being overwhelmed in the moment had you losing sight of that, doubting him in ways that he never gave you a reason to. He was always good to you, since the beginning. And that was something you found a little hard to understand. “Why me? I mean, it's no secret you've had a plethora of girls knocking on your door. So how come you chose me to fall in love with?” A tiny insecure thought that popped in your head from time to time, but a lot more in the past few weeks.

What made you so different?

The sound of his laugh is the last thing you expect to hear. His pretty smile rests on his lips as the sweet sound dies down, eyes shining as he looks at you. “I didn't choose you, baby. I got lucky and you chose me. And I have zero complaints. I don't know if you know this, Yn. But you have really high standards. You make me want to be better for you.” He's confident this time when he reaches for you, hands settling on your hips as he tugs you toward him.

A natural position between the two of you, sat up with your legs draped over his hips his stretched out behind you. Crazy how perfectly you fit in his arms. “No one has made me feel the way you have. Only you.” You're embarrassed with how dramatic your heart is for this man.

Fingers brush hair from your face as he leans closer to you, nose just barely brushing against yours. “Does that answer your question?” Using that deep voice of his that you only recently discovered. Eyes lifting to look at you through his long lashes, your entire body heats up from the look alone.

“Yes, it does.”

The corners of his lips lift into a smile, fingers tracing the side of your face to tip your chin up toward his. Gaze dropping to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Can I kiss you now?” There's something about him asking that makes you want it more.

Paired with the patient way he sits awaiting your answer, holding you close but still giving you space. Subtle things that he did to make sure you were comfortable, make sure that he was never pushing too much. Jungkook was constantly proving to you that you could trust him, without a word.

And you do, trust him. With everything you do. So you don't even have to think twice about nodding your head, welcoming his lips onto yours. His fingers tangling in your hair to hold your head in place as his mouth moves over yours. Kissing you the way that he's dreamt of after all this time.

He's missed you. Being apart from you was something that he never wanted to do again and he was going to make sure that neither of you would have to experience that again. His warm tongue glides over your lower lip and you're sure he's going to push his way through.

But he doesn't, instead, he's dragging his teeth over your skin, dragging your lip back as you pull away. It's hot. The feeling of his teeth pressed into your skin, the look on his face as he does it. You can't help the soft moan that falls from your lips. A sound that goes straight to his pants.

“Tell me that thing again, you know? About how you feel about me...” There's a hint of blush on his cheeks. It makes you feel warm all over. Lifting your arms, you wrap them around his neck, scooting a bit lower on his lap. Hips pressed against his.

You think about teasing him, acting as if you have no idea what he's talking about. One look at the slightly nervous look on his face is stealing all of that way. As if you wouldn't say it again like the first time had been a fluke. Yeah, right.

Lips molded against his, you place a sweet kiss on them. Smiling brightly as you pull away, lifting your gaze to look him right in the eye. He needed to know that you meant business when you said what was coming next. “I love you, Jungkook. Only you.” He's kissing you again before the words can fully leave your lips, hand pressed firmly on your back as he holds you to him.

The slow lift of his hips, dragging a moan from you. “I just told you I love you. Why are you hard?” Your giggle vibrates against his lips. Jungkook does nothing to pull back, lips still sealed together as he murmurs.

“It's a love boner,” He groans softly, rolling his hips up. Using the grip he holds in your hair to tilt your head back, trailing his lips down toward your jawline. Sucking wet kisses into your skin, creating a path toward your collarbones.

Your laughter is interrupted by a moan, your own hips moving at their own accord into his. His cock dragging against your core through the fabric of your clothes, but you can still feel him as if you were bare. His freehand is traveling down your back to grip your ass, encouraging the movement of your hips.

Gruff grunts leave his lips from the friction and it takes everything in you to concentrate on your words. “S-shut up, those aren't real. All you think about is sex,” Ignoring the moans that lace your words and the insistent roll of your hips. He's the focus subject here.

Jungkook is shaking his head quickly, pulling back to get a good look at your face. Already flushed and he was just getting started. “Correction. All I think about is you. How my body reacts is not my fault,” You laugh to hide your blush, hand reaching out to shove at his shoulder.

“You're an idiot,” You're mumbling out, which he assumes is code for some term of endearment in your head. He'll take it, leaning down to press yet another soft kiss to your lips.

There was no way he'd grow tired of the feeling he got from kissing you. “And I love you. And you love me too. So let's make love,” It's corny, so you have no idea why your heart is screaming, fighting against your rib cage to get to him. But you've learned to not have everything figured out when it came to Jungkook. Things were the way they were and you liked them exactly that way.

You loved it.

— known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

⤪ masterlist ⤨

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 12 - Muse

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Fluff, Rough Sex (Light but Consensual), Light Degradation, Role-play (Reader In French Maid Outfit), Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Making Out With Gojo, NSFW, Unprotected Sex

Summary: You keep your promise to Gojo and the two of you enjoy a little bit of roleplaying.

A/N: I know it's been a while since I posted last. Here is the updated chapter (she is kind of long) and it's basically 5% plot where everything else is smut. I have been reading this same thing for over a week and spent most of today editing, so I hope it's fine! Please keep in mind again that I do not have a beta, and will highly miss a lot of things or even misspell them. I hope you enjoy the chapter!  Requests are still open! I currently write for Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna and Choso. Please make sure I can see your age on your profile, otherwise you will be ignored (minors dni) 

- - - 

(Three Years Ago)

“Looks like someone is being spoiled…”

You glanced around your apartment that has been completely decorated in flowers. You started grinning like an idiot thinking of Haru’s promise to give you a garden before replying, “ it’s a long story... ”

“ Soo , things worked out after the failed anniversary dinner?” Gojo questioned, noticing the way you shyly bit your bottom lip as you returned your attention back onto the T.V. screen.

“ Yes, they did …” you answered casually, still holding that pretty smile on your lips. You were clicking the button on the remote as you switched between movies to pick one to watch for the evening. “I don’t think I gave you the full update…”

Gojo took a sip of his melon soda, before leaning back comfortably against your couch. “No you did not. Last time we spoke you told me you were going away for the weekend. So tell me, how did prince charming work his way back into your good graces?”

Hakone , the weekend getaway; memories of you and Haru’s trip flooded back to your mind. The onsen experience, strolling through nature by day, visiting art galleries and losing sleep at night just to make love…

“It was… perfect.” you whispered breathlessly, your heart skipping a beat after you gave Gojo the brief explanation.

“ How romantic… ” the sorcerer replied, doing little to hide the hint of sarcasm in his tone.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, nudging your elbow playfully into his stomach. “Don’t be such a killjoy…”

From behind his dark frames, Gojo was reading your body language when you spoke. He pressed his lips together, not wanting to take away the happiness you were basking in and burying the thought that lingered his mind.

“You really love him, don’t you?” he asked again, his eyes glued onto you as he patiently waited for your reply.

Your cheeks went warm and your reaction was to adorably bury your face into the palm of your hands, desperately trying to fight off the butterflies swarming in your stomach. You leaned back on the couch next to your friend, dropping your hands down by your sides as you tilted your neck to face him.

“ Hopelessly so… ”

Gojo swallowed hard, a sinking sensation pummeled through his gut upon hearing your words. Your eyes flickered when you noticed how his expression hardened but he quickly switched to a big grin.

“As long as you’re happy … ” he reassured, giving you a thumbs up.

“I am, very much so …”

�� Good!” Gojo replied, but the word tasted sour in his mouth and he quickly changed the subject. “Now let’s get back to picking our movie…”

What the hell am I supposed to do now? he thought to himself, the disappointment weighing heavy on his heart.

I can’t tell her yet…

I’ll just have to wait...

(Present)

Gojo was exhausted. His day was tiresome and everything seemed to be getting on his last nerves. His morning started off on a bad note thanks to the higher ups. Itadori Yuji swallowing one of Sukuna’s fingers was not what he expected but now he had a problem on his hands involving the life of another teenager.

A talented kid at that, Itadori definitely had potential...

Gojo was good at hiding his frustrations from his students, and even from some of his peers. However, the minute he stepped into the lobby of his apartment building, the weight of his day came crashing down on his shoulders. He exited the elevator, slowly making his way over towards his apartment door but paused for a second before entering inside the safe haven of his home.

He immediately sensed your presence.

You called him earlier when he was at the school, asking if you could stop by his place to pick up something that you had forgotten.

“Just ask the security to let you in, I’ll give them a heads up and inform them... ” Gojo distractedly replied before ending the call.

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly to himself, thinking that maybe you decided to stick around and hang out at his place.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, as he stepped through the threshold of his front door. “Did you really miss me that mu-uhhhhhh…”

Gojo dropped his keycard on the floor, his mouth agape as he took in the sight of you standing before him. His heart literally stopped beating for a whole second and the sorcerer found himself frozen in the entrance of his living room.

“ Gojo-san,” you purred, turning your heel from the large glass window you were wiping and smiling as you faced him directly. “ You’re home...”

Catching the great Gojo Satoru by surprise was something rare but you managed to do it with ease because he always had his guard down around you.

Gojo admired the outfit you were wearing. Your black dress was short, very short, with the bodice buttoned all the way up to your neck and little puffy sleeves covering your shoulders. The white apron you were wearing over it was trimmed with little frills, matching the detailing along the collar. His mouth went dry when he reached your legs covered in a pair of stockings but he noticed the single garter wrapped around your thigh adorned with a tiny bow. You were wearing black pointed high heels to match the ensemble, adding a decent amount of inches to your height. The cherry on top was the white silky headband that was pulling back your beautiful hair.

Gojo had given up on your promise weeks ago, thinking there was no possible way you might actually follow through with his idea.

Yet, here you were , dressed up in a french maid outfit.

You placed the cloth in your hand in the basket on your floor. Your heels clicking against the wooden surface and echoing around his quiet penthouse apartment as you approached him, holding your head high as you confidently nestled into the role you were playing.

You gripped his attention, but couldn’t see how shocked he was from behind his dark sunglasses. As you stood in front of him you bent down to pick up the key card before elegantly standing upright and holding it up to his face.

“You dropped this,” you stated quite matter of factly, batting your lashes at him innocently.

The man had been rendered speechless.

You raised your brow as the seconds passed, waiting for Gojo to say... something.

He could sense your heart beat increase, as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other and you nervously glanced away from his direction. You dropped the act for a minute as you placed your hands around your waist to look down at the outfit you were wearing.

“ Uhm … did I do this wrong ? This is the only outfit I could find online that was even close to the idea you had and it took weeks to actually get here. I can...I can try to find another dress if this isn’t what you li-”

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, interrupting your comment and tilting your head up so you were looking at him as he snapped himself out of the trance you seemed to have put him under.

“No! No, no no …you look… fuck… you just caught me by surprise…” he replied, a wave of excitement rushing through him as he stumbled over his words. He proceeded to lower his sunglasses so you were met with azure eyes, softening his gaze as a cheeky grin spread across his gorgeous face. “You look ...perfect…”

He stretched out that last word, ensuring to savour every part of you. Your face grew warm but you couldn’t help but smirk with approval that all your hard efforts into this costume worked their magic on your friend.

“Really?” you questioned in a hopeful tone, reaching for his wrist and giving him a squeeze. “I’m glad! You worried me for a second…”

Gojo leaned forward to kiss you, the heavy weight he bore when he stepped into his home dissipating as he tasted you on his tongue. Once he had his fill of you, he broke away from the kiss before casually walking backwards and instructing, “don’t mind me, I’m just going to step out for a second so we can properly start this over…”

You giggled before turning around and making your way back to your position next to his window. Gojo noticed your white slip peak from under your skirt, and he gently bit down on his knuckle unable to contain his own anticipation.

This is going to be fun, he thought.

When he stepped back inside his apartment it was with a totally different demeanor. He cleared his throat as he made his way over, noticing your face playfully light up before repeating your initial greeting:

“ Gojo-san, you’re home... ”

***

One hour.

You had the man stirring for an entire hour.

Gojo didn’t think you would take this as seriously as you did but you were putting on a performance for him.

At first he sat in the living room, watching you mindlessly wipe his spotless windows and bending over ever so slightly for him to peep under your skirt. He impatiently tapped his finger against his thigh, knowing full well that he was not allowed to touch you unless you touched him first .

That was the rule you both agreed on.

When Gojo realised that you weren’t planning on giving in so easily, he used the moment as an opportunity to change out of his uniform but that didn’t stop you from being a tease.

While he was in his room, he switched to a pair of comfortable sweatpants and just as he was about to slip on his hoodie, you barged into his bedroom.

“ I’m sorry to intrude…” you announced innocently, sauntering your way over with your eyes lingering on his abdominal muscles and lifting up his half-filled laundry basket. “ I just needed to wash these…”

Gojo pressed his tongue to his cheek, shaking his head at you as he moved to his drawer to replace his shades with his blindfold, knowing full well you were going to draw this out for as long as you can.

Maybe this is payback…

Gojo returned to the living room, his eyes fixated on the television screen as a way to distract himself from you.

After you did a few meaningless chores, you picked up the feather duster from your equipment basket and directed yourself into his line of sight. You began to “ dust ” off his shelves, swaying your hips deliberately from side to side as you walked in front of him.

“ I hope you don’t mind me in your way, Gojo-san …” you said serenely, flicking the duster over the random items on his shelf.

“Not at all…” the sorcerer replied, his voice smooth as silk when he spoke. “But you should know you missed a spot…”

You raised your brow as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his stare.

“ Oh ?”

Gojo spread his legs further apart, resting his long arm on the back of the sofa before bringing his other hand forward to point high on his shelf.

“Right there,” he indicated.

You hummed to yourself, knowing full well that Gojo wanted to see more of what you were hiding underneath your outfit. As you stood on your tiptoes, you deliberately arched your back to stick out your rear in his direction.

Gojo trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, humming in approval and deciding in that moment just how he plans on eventually fucking you in this cute outfit of yours.

“A little higher…” he commanded, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes as you “cleaned” his top shelf, and he felt himself harden against his pants when the fabric of your dress just barely covered your ass.

The minutes passed, dragging slowly until the sorcerer found himself growing impatient. The longer you were making him wait, the more cruel he was planning on delivering his own punishment in return.

“May I get you some water, Gojo-san?” you asked him, snapping him out of his own thoughts as you made your way over to the kitchen. “You look a little thirsty…”

Oh yes, he definitely wasn’t going to hold himself back…

“ Please…” he said through gritted teeth.

You made your way over to the kitchen, pulling out one of the random trays he had and placing a glass right in the middle. You fill it up with ice before pouring in the water, then lifting up the tray and making your way over to him.

“ Here you go…” you offered, but instead of picking up the glass with your fingers, you deliberately knocked it over, allowing the cool liquid to pour all over Gojo’s lap.

The man hissed, surprised that you caught him off guard yet again with your tactic. The water pooled between his thighs, making his muscles tense up even more.

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth, the goosebumps running up and down your arms when you noticed the outline of his dick against his sweatpants.

Staring at him with your knowing, apologetic eyes, you proceeded to say, “I’m so sorry, let me get something to help you dry up…”

When you returned, you found your place down on your knees in front of him. You pressed the dry towel against his inner thigh, earning a grunt in response because your touch was close to his growing erection.

Your other hand glided up his calf, sending your message across as Gojo’s eyes widened when that same hand replaced the towel.

Fucking finally, he thought, no longer frustrated by his own desire or the fact that he was now soaking wet.

“I can dry these with the rest of the clothes…” you explained, lifting yourself upright on your knees. “I’m going to have to take these off..”

You hooked your hands around the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down his lean legs and removing them.

“What about these?” Gojo asked, tilting his head towards his tented boxers. “I’m soaked all the way through…”

“ Uhm… of course!” you chirped, as you removed the second article of clothing. “I’ll get these dry for you right away…”

As you tried to stand up, Gojo reached for your forearms and dragged you back down on the rug.

“What about this?” he asked, directing your attention towards the length of his swollen cock.

“I-I don’t know if I can help you with that,” you teased, averting your gaze as you feigned shyness.

“I pay you to use your hands, don’t I?” Gojo questioned.

“ Yes, Gojo-san …”

“Then you should do whatever it takes.”

Gojo could have sworn he saw you smirk but you were swift to hide your reaction. You brought your hand to his length as you began to stroke upward, circling your thumb around his swollen tip. Your other hand teasingly traced a vein up and down his shaft, and Gojo exhaled as his body relaxed against his plush sofa.

You squeezed his cock, feeling the width of his hard member as you continued teasing his head. You spread the pre-cum all over the tip, before bringing your lips down and replacing your thumb with your tongue as you swirled around the head before finally sealing your mouth over him.

You gently suck, your cheeks hollowing but you remain focused on just his head. The hand that isn’t holding his shaft moved to his thigh, where you gave him an eager squeeze as you tasted him in your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gojo leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes as he hummed with relief. The low rumble of his voice spread down his abdomen, and your ears perked upon hearing his satisfied reaction.

You released him with a pop, before adjusting your position so your forearms were now resting over his thighs.

Gojo was average in thickness but his length definitely made up for it and you wanted to get comfortable before taking him all the way in.

You guided him into your mouth, easing him down inch by inch as you bobbed over his impressive length. Your hands pressed into his thighs, a small whimper escaping you as your teeth grazed lightly over his cock while you expertly worked him.

“You keep doing this and I might consider increasing your pay…” Gojo murmured, half-drunk with arousal as he began losing himself to you.

You quickened your pace, ignoring the discomfort in your jaw as you let him fuck your mouth. Gojo reached his hand to the back of your neck, gently stroking you with his slender fingers as encouragement. His chest began to rise and fall as his breathing grew heavier.

“ Keep going …” he coaxed, his voice shaking and growing tender. He rolled his hips in rhythm to your movement while your hands began massaging his legs and working their way high up to his pelvis.

His fingers curled around your hair, your throat burning but you kept going not wanting to disappoint your esteemed employer.

“ Mmm , F-fuck… ” he whined, his words sweet in your ears as he reached his peak.

Gojo’s hips bucked into you and he held you in place, releasing thick ropes of cum in the back of your throat as he moaned.

His grip was tight around your head and you tried not to gag as you swallowed everything he gave you. You slowly retracted him out of your mouth, desperately catching your breath in between small coughs as you settled yourself.

“Such a beautiful mess…” Gojo complimented as he looked down at you from where he was sitting.

Your chin was covered with  your saliva, your perfectly styled hair unraveling from his grip and your smokey eye makeup smudged. Gojo flicked his fingers in his direction, ordering you to get on his lap.

Your knees hurt when you stand up, the cheap fabric of your stockings already wearing from the friction against the rug. You spread your legs as you straddled him, lifting the hem of your dress up as you adjusted your position.

“ Well, well…what have we here… ” he cooed when you flashed him. “Hold your dress up for me…”

Your face grew hot but you obediently obliged as you bunched up the dress to your waist, giving Gojo a full view of your stockings that covered your bare pussy.

Gojo dragged his index finger along your slit, your arousal stringing on the tip of his finger as he pulled away from you.

You were completely soaked through.

“ Do you always show up to work without any underwear on?” he teased, bringing his finger back between your legs  and pushing the material of your stockings between your lips.

“Only when I know I am seeing you…” you replied seductively.

“Is that so?” Gojo mused, biting his bottom lip as he focused on his finger circling your folds. “How professional…”

“Actually I'm very unprofessional. I have something to confess, Gojo-san …” you whispered, dropping your dress as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his ear before stating, “…I touch myself whenever you’re not home .”

Gojo froze his movements. You were doing everything he described when talking about this particular fantasy: the hot maid that he comes home to who teases him into fucking her.

Oh, and you were playing the role beautifully.  

“Did you do that today?” The man questioned, directing it towards you and not the character you were pretending to be.

You giggled in his ear, “ twice .”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, his free hand that wasn’t between your legs reached for his blindfold. He lifted the fabric, where a pretty blue iris was staring at you with sheer adoration.

“ Oh, angel, you continue to surprise me…”

“None of that, yet…” you announced, covering his eye as you pulled his wrist away. “ We’re still playing, Gojo-san.”

On that reply, Gojo reached for the band of your stockings. He ripped the flimsy fabric with his strong hands, tearing it straight down the middle before picking you up and laying your back against the arm rest.

“I’m going to have to start putting security cameras around the place,” he added, getting back into the role as he slipped off his hoodie. “But I think I would prefer seeing you with my own eyes…”

He instantly noticed the way you checked him out, your gaze hungry for his body. He lifted up your dress, bunching it up at the waist to reveal your torn undergarment. Your sweet pussy was glistening with your arousal and Gojo licked his lips with anticipation. He raised one of your legs over the sofa, leaving the other  to dangle off the side and exposing you completely to him.

“ Touch yourself.”

You brought your fingers to your fold, working your throbbing clit as you closed your eyes. Your body was electric, riled up to the point where you were already so sensitive as you rubbed yourself. Soft whimpers left your lips and Gojo held your knees apart as he watched you masturbate.

“Are you always this quiet?” He teased, “A dirty slut like you begging to be fucked…I’m sure you get louder than that…”

If you weren’t so heated by everything that was going on, you would have been caught off guard by what he was saying but instead you moaned at his derogatory words.

The character you were playing began blending in his mind with your own person, his dear friend, and the thought of you eagerly pleasing him made the blood rush between his legs, his arousal making him harden again.

“You hear that?” Gojo continued, knowing full well how much you enjoy his dirty talk and pointing out the way your pussy squelched as your fingers drove themselves inside you. “You’re so fucking wet and I hardly even touched you. Are you that needy already? Are you that desperate for someone to fuck this pussy of yours?”

“Y-yes…”

“Do you call out my name when you make yourself come? Do you beg for it?”

“ Mmmm, yes, Gojo-san…want you so bad …”

“If you want me to fuck you, you little slut , you’re going to have to tell me how much you want it…”

You gasped, your free hand reaching to massage your breast over your uniform as you finally opened your hazy eyes to meet Gojo’s. Your heart was racing, your body gyrating against his sofa as you slipped your fingers between your folds.

“ Mmahh, Gojo-san, I want you to fuck me on this couch. I want to feel you inside me. P-please, I need you inside me…so fucking bad…I can’t…I ca-” you voice pitched as you increased the speed of your movements, rolling your hips in circles and your dropped your head back against the arm rest.

You came all over your fingers, your orgasm hitting you hard, as you sang your noises of pleasure. You were trembling against the chair, panting heavily as you pulled your fingers from between your legs.

Gojo flipped you on your stomach, unable to hold himself back any longer. Your hands were on the arm rest, your knees pressed into the plush cushion as you spread yourself as wide as you could for him. Usually, Gojo would enjoy taking this time to lick your sweet cunt clean but he was barely holding on himself after what he witnessed.

The tip of his cock teased your lips, before he slipped himself inside you with ease, coating his entire length with your arousal. Your eyes widened as you looked at him over your shoulder with slight panic.

“Satoru, you’re not wearing a…”

“I’ll pull out…” he replied, holding your hips up before snapping roughly into you.

You were dizzy, completely functioning on your urges without giving logic any thought. If it was anyone else, you would have stopped but Gojo wasn’t just anybody and the man had quite the control over his own body.

You cried out feeling your walls clench around him. He was moving hard and fast, fucking you roughly on his sofa, with every push harder than the last and leaving your legs trembling as you tried your best to hold yourself in place for him.

He drags his length out of you, ensuring that you felt every inch before wildly plunging back inside. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs against your stockings, your nails digging into the sofa as you whimpered.

Your drenched cunt made it so much easier for Gojo to fuck you but his slightly sadistic mind was forcing you to feel it more.

Your toes curled inside your pointed heels, your back arching as speckles of black clouded your vision. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips jerked when your orgasm compounded into you, making you drop down to your forearms as you were unable to counter your explosive release.

Gojo was covered in your juices and with a few sloppy thrusts he finally pulled himself out before finishing himself off by pumping spurts of cum all over your back, decorating your outfit with his release.

The man didn’t stop there. Instead, he flipped you onto your back bringing his hands to the buttons of the top half of your dress and ripping it apart.

Your chest was bare, covered in a bra that he tugged down until it was resting underneath your breasts. He brought his insatiable lips to your mound, rolling your pointed nipple between his thumb and index finger before closing his mouth over the other nub.

You were shaking underneath him, unable to handle any more stimulation as he pinched one nipple and peppered the other with kitten licks.

Gojo did it until he was hard again, leaving marks all over your breasts as he pushed himself inside you. He held your legs apart but you barely had anymore energy to keep up with him. Instead you kept him motivated with your pleasured mewls, praising him for all his glory.

“ Harder, please…harder….”

Gojo stopped, holding himself inside you and feeling you pulsate against him. He ensured to drag the seconds out making you whimper with impatience as you were desperate to have him continue.

“ Gojo-saaan…” you pleaded, tears pricking  your eyes as you wailed for mercy. “Don’t stop fucking-ahhhhhhh …”

You couldn’t even finish until he was thrusting inside you again. Fucking you to the heavens and back with the same intensity he did earlier. When he pulled out of you as he climaxed, he finished himself off all over your cunt, marking you with his essence.

***

Steam covered the glass door surrounding you, the warmth engulfing your body as you and Gojo stood in the hot shower together. Your body was sore but in the most pleasant way possible and you allowed the water droplets to massage your skin, closing your eyes as you exhaled and enjoying the amazing pressure from Gojo’s  shower.

You only opened your eyes when you felt Gojo’s large palm on your stomach, bringing you into his torso as he leaned down and kissed your ear.

“Did you have fun?”

The knot in the pit of your stomach twisted, sending shivers down your back from his question. He treated you with so much kindness after you both slept together. He sang you praises, telling you over and over how good you were to him as he took his time to clean you up, not allowing you to even lift a single finger while he used the time to focus on taking care of you instead.

You turned around to face him, your eyes gazing up at that unjustifiably handsome face that was uncovered because he had his hair slicked back.

“Surprisingly, I did…” you teased with a smile, placing your hands on him, as you delicately traced your fingers up and down his forearms.

His height was overbearing now that you didn’t have your heels on, and the sorcerer found himself tilting down just to look at you. His fingers pressed into your lower back as the silence filled the space between you both. Gojo used it as an opportunity to bring his lips down to meet yours, indulging himself with a kiss. He picked you up in his strong arms, before holding you against the grey tile of his bathroom wall. You moaned into his mouth, playing with his tongue as your hands reached for his neck.

“So, tell me, angel… ” he whispered into your mouth in between a kiss. “What kind of fantasies do you have?”

“Uhm, I don’t really have any fantasies…”

You felt his fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head back so you were looking him in the eye.

“You know, if you tell me , I can return the favor…” he stated, flashing his pearly whites as he gave you an easy grin.

“You’ll think it’s stupid…”

“Try me.”

You rested your head against the tile, playing with the back of Gojo’s hair as you cleared your throat.

“Uhm, so , back in college there was this professor that I had. He was extremely good looking, I think everybody in our class had a crush on him. I realised I did too because everytime I would try speaking with him, I always jumbled up my words or said the wrong thing. It was super awkward…I mean, he wasn’t awkward but I definitely was…”  

A small laugh escaped you but Gojo was still listening attentively.

“Anyway, I never told anyone. I was with Haru and always felt like I was being a terrible girlfriend because I was just so attracted to my professor. He was also the sweetest guy, was married and had three kids…” you sighed as Gojo grazed his hand across your thigh, blushing before admitting, “…but I used to think about him taking me on his desk all the time. Like, it got to the point where I had to drop his class because he was too much of a distraction…”

Gojo chuckled, “oh, you dirty slu-OW!”

You tugged at his earlobe, pouting to stop yourself from laughing at his snide comment.

“That’s what you get,” you replied, before loosening your grip and dropping your hand to his pecs.

“Relax, it takes a slut to know one. There is no need to get offended!” he teased, shifting the joke onto himself and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, so you’ve got a little thing for a teacher/student scenario?”

“Just a little…”

Gojo brought his lips to your neck, planting small kisses upwards until he murmured against your ear.

“As a teacher myself, it will be my utmost pleasure to be your sensei for an evening,”

“You don’t have to…”

“You're not forcing me, angel. I want to,” Gojo insisted, his lips now hovering above yours. “Besides, I’m your friend, right ? We take care of each other, that’s what friends do.”

You nodded in agreement, your eyes dropping down to his lips as you patiently waited to taste him on your tongue.

“Since you did a stellar job with me tonight, let me do the same for you… ” he whispered, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and nipping at it gently.

You squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as you held him close, feeling faint when Gojo kissed you again like he was pulling the oxygen straight out of your lungs.

And yet, you had no desire to let him go.

***

CHAPTER 13: SPINNING

[rengoku-loves-you]

This is such a weird request, but can you do the reader doing a break up prank on our sun, kyo? (Weird ik I just kinda wanna see how it goes XD)

(hi hun! don't worry about weird requests, this made me laugh when i read it! though it probably doesn’t show... i probably made it a bit more emotional and angsty than you were hoping, i’m sorry about that ^^; it hurt my little kyo-loving heart to make him sad tho, i almost couldn't bear it but that was the way it flowed :'D thank you so much for your request! ❤️️)

kyojuro x reader (in which you make up a break-up)

warnings: miscommunication, prank (accidentally) gone too far, angst?

"i think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."

kyojuro freezes. he'd been in the middle of cleaning his sword, wiping away the remains of the demon he had slain during his last mission, when you dropped that bomb on him. you don't even have the decency to look at him, sitting across from him with your eyes closed and your legs crossed like his. practicing your breathing, supposedly.

"what do you mean by that?" he asks slowly, very sure he's heard you wrong. his hearing has always been a little faulty ever since that one disastrous mission. "you're my successor! we could hardly not see each other anymore, your training is nowhere near complete. unless one of us goes blind!" he smiles, and you blink open your eyes. you don't look as amused as he hoped you would.

"i mean we should break up," you say bluntly, and that. that slaps the tentative smile right off his face. for a long moment, it's silent.

"ah," he says, quiet. his gaze flicks away, down to his sword, and he mindlessly starts cleaning it again before his hands start to shake. he forces his lips upward again, ignoring how they tremble. "i... if that's what you truly want, i understand! i will not pressure you to change your mind! you know what you desire better than anyone!" and he doesn't say any more, scrubbing the rag over the blade over and over and over again.

"okay," you say shortly. "thank you for understanding, rengoku." he gives a single nod, and you close your eyes again. rengoku. you only called him that when he was in trouble. otherwise, it was always kyojuro or even kyo.

it stings.

it stings a lot, even more than the bite the demon had taken out of his leg during the mission. in fact, his heart hurts so bad that he doesn't even notice when his eyes start to sting as well until tears are dripping onto his sword, smearing when he tries to rub them away.

"i'm just," you start to say, and then you inhale sharply, cutting yourself off. he doesn't hear what you say next, because he sobs at the sound of your voice, and his sword falls to the ground in his haste to scrub away the shameful, selfish tears. when he feels your hands on his shoulders, he jerks away.

“i’m fine, i’m okay!” he insists loudly, dodging your touch again when your fingers brush his cheek. he’s trying so hard to keep the smile on his face that it only makes his eyes water more. “i’ll stop in a moment, i apologize for this!” his voice wobbles, and he roughly scrubs at his face for it, trying to tamp the emotions down. he isn’t even entirely sure why he’s crying like this. you’re still his successor, and you’re not so cruel as to treat him coldly even after you break up. he knows you’ll still be friends at the very least. it’s not as if you’ll really never see each other again.

but you were his first, the only one he dared to let in so deep into his heart even though he knows the risks, because he believed in you and your ability to stay alive. he believed you would succeed in becoming a pillar, flame or otherwise, and just like a moth to a flame that spark inside you drew him in. you were natural friends, slipping into dating territory without either of you having to ask.

(”dating” being a relative term, of course. neither of you have much time to indulge in silly, normal dates, so you steal kisses, stay for dinner, and spend the night when you can.)

he feels like a child again, freshly abandoned, scorched inside with grief and burned outside from the flames he recklessly practices with. only this time, the external burns are your fleeting touches as you try to calm him down, saying words his ears refuse to let him process.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he persists, hoarse now that he’s nearly cried out, and you fall quiet. his entire face feels hot, a mixture of his aggressive rubbing, the usual post-breakdown flush, and shame. you’ve given up on helping, standing worriedly at his side with your hands wringing. you watch him take shuddering breaths, somehow still with that damned grin on his face that looks nothing but painful. 

“i apologize,” kyojuro begins, because he knows all his crying did was make you feel guilty and the last thing he wants is to make you feel responsible for him and his silly emotions.

“it was a joke,” you say weakly, and he blinks, water catching on his lashes as he gazes at the wall.

“what was that?” he asks, tugging the handkerchief from his breast pocket. you open your mouth, but then he blows his nose, loud and obnoxious, and you shut it again. you wait until he folds it back up, sniffing once, before he grips his knees with his eyes so wide that if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was waiting for someone to cut his head off. “i don’t think i heard you correctly. can you repeat that?”

“it was a joke,” you say again, lamely. “i-i didn’t expect you to take it so hard, especially not that fast. i thought you were gonna act all pouty and give me those sad eyes that you get whenever i don’t share my sweet potatoes with you. then i’d say i was kidding, and we’d kiss and laugh ‘cause we’re too perfect together for that to happen. it was supposed to be funny. i’m not that good at lying, kyo.” you kneel next to him, bowing your head. “i’m sorry.” even as the silence stretches, you don’t dare look up.

“well,” he rasps, and you jolt when you feel a warm hand fall on your head, “i suppose i’m just that terrible at understanding jokes!” when you dare to lift your eyes, he’s smiling at you. genuinely this time, small and still mildly tearstained. “there’s no need to apologize! i was the one who overreacted!”

“kyojuro,” you nearly whine, because he’s only making you feel worse. “it was a mean prank in the first place, don’t you dare start apologizing to me. i’m the one who should be apologizing.” he chuckles, his hand sliding to your upper arm and tugging gently, and you immediately lean into him. he wraps his arm around your shoulders, nose pressed to the top of your head, and you loop your arms around his waist.

“if you say so! i won’t argue with you!” he brings his other arm up, and then he’s practically shuffling into your lap, squeezing you tightly. you let him, even though he’s heavy and nowhere near acceptable lap-sitting size, because you can still feel him shaking and you know he needs the comfort.

“i really am sorry,” you mumble against his shoulder, fingers toying with his belt. “i’ve never seen you cry like that.”

“i’ll forgive you,” he says, “under one condition!” you don’t hesitate to nod. right now, you’d probably do anything he asked, if only to ease the massive pit of guilt in your stomach just a little. he pulls back, hands gripping your shoulders, and gives you another smile. more of a smirk, really. then he leans close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver.

“never, ever leave me,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear when he speaks. “otherwise...” you close your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm, but force yourself to keep still. he sighs, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, his hands slowly wandering down to your sides. “otherwise, i’ll cry. i’ll cry myself to death! then you’ll really be sorry!” his fingertips dig into your sides, and you gasp and jolt at the sharp, ticklish pain.

you really should’ve known.

“kyojuro!” you halfheartedly shove at his chest, and he falls back, laughing. his voice is still a little thick, and his eyes are raw and he’s still shaking like a leaf, but he leans in and kisses you anyway. that’s all the forgiveness you two need for now.

(he tastes like salt.)

[junmyeonning]

Definitely Forgiven

Type: one shot

Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (EXO Suho) X Unnamed OFC

Rated: M

Word count: 1.8k

Request by anon: " can u please do a frenemies smut abt junmyeon? like u guys are known for hating each other but behind that are fwb? thank you!! 

(A/N): So yeah i’m back.. after 6 months LOL

-

It is apparent to anyone who knows them that they're never on the same page.  Not at all.

If she's red, he's blue.  If she's left, he's right.  They almost never agree with each other and they always seem to get into these thoughtless arguments whenever they're all together.  But what no one knows is how they behave with one another behind closed doors...

They knew the attraction was there from the first time that they've met. That physical pull was too much, they just needed to have a taste of each other. And they didn't bother beating around the bush, as it didn't take too long to make this "arrangement" of a friends with benefits thing. But of course, with your typical no strings attached.

Why? Because as quickly as they've felt the sexual tension, it was coupled with some strong hints of polarity and overall personality incompatibility.

And it shows in this particular day as he storms off to his room in anger, to stop himself from going on back and forth yet again in front of everyone with this dumb topic and dumb ass girl.

Whom he also thinks about not leaving alone the minute that they're isolated.  She's not getting out of this one.

As expected, a few minutes later there's a soft knock on his door.  He replies with a gruff 'come in' as he continues what he's doing, scrolling mindlessly through his phone without looking up.

She sits down next to him by the edge of the bed, peering at him to see a reaction.

"What do you want ?" He jabs at her, still not sparing her a look.  She feels slightly guilty to what happened this time so she attempts to make amends.

"Maybe I went a little overboard-"

"A little?" He finally looks at her and she feels almost intimidated by his gaze. He has never been this angry with her before, she knows she took it further than the usual bickering this time.

"Hey, I know I was wrong okay?" She admits against her will, her brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Well prove it." He puts his phone down on the nightstand, focusing all of his attention now on her.

"Huh? Wait, now?" She's dumbfounded, starting to feel slightly nervous as she looks back at the cold look on his face.  He folds his hands behind his head, nodding to his bottom half.

"Well, get to it."

"But everyone would hear us-"

"Do I look like I give a fuck ?" He replies harshly, making her gulp.  He's never like this.

And it's so fucking hot.

She makes up her mind and crawls over to him on the middle of the bed, settling down between his legs on her knees.  She gives him a playful smile, stroking his thighs and looking directly at him.

"I'm sorry Myeonnie, forgive me?" She bites her lip, tilting her head at him while her hands are still caressing his thighs.  He doesn't waver, and if he did at least it wasn't very noticeable.  So she continues her efforts.

Her hand slides up further until it palms over his jeans-clad bulge, rubbing over it and watching as he takes a breath.  His expression is still the same as he talks again.

"Come on, I'm waiting." His words encourage her to take the next step, unzipping his pants now and pulling them down along with his boxers,  just enough to free his half hard member.

She licks her lips, feeling thirsty all of a sudden with how delicious his cock is looking. It gets harder in her hand as she just holds it, making eye contact with Junmyeon while smirking and getting her mouth down closer and closer to it.

At first she just kisses the tip, making him buck a little into her and groan lowly. She smiles at the reaction, repeating the action and peppering kisses all over it. He moans softly and looks down at her in questioning.

"W-what... are you doing..." he is breathing heavier by now, his cock rock hard and wanting a desperate release.

She giggles at his reaction, thinking she's had enough teasing him so she just puts him into her mouth, slowly swallowing all of his length. He lifts his hips up a little more into her warmth, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh in pleasure. She looks up at him through her lashes, feeling herself getting even more turned on with how wrecked he looks with his head thrown back.  His neck and jaw all exposed and looking so kissable.

Her eyes flutter shut and she moans around him, sending vibrations into his body as she begins sucking him off so painfully slow.

"Stop, playing games," he manages to say, resting his hands now on the back of her head while she continues her sweet torture. He suddenly tightens his grip on her hair and lifts her head a little to make her look at him, giving her a warning look when they meet eyes.

"Faster." He loosens back on the grip he has on her hair to allow her to continue her rhythm.  She feels in the mood for it so she complies, bopping her head up and down on his length and sucking faster and harder.  He moans from above and enjoys the feeling of her warm mouth and wet tongue around him.

He feels himself about to cum so he stops her, motioning for her to rise up from where she's sitting.

"I thought you'd want me to finish you off..." she says in confusion.

"And I do.  Not in your mouth," she gasps when he yanks up her short skirt and grabs roughly at her panties, quickly shimmying them down her legs.

"Ride me."

The way he says it so commanding and so dark makes her drip down on the inside of her thighs, getting more and more eager to have him inside of her.  She knows how much he loves a good reverse cowgirl, so without any words she turns around so that her ass faces him.  He quickly gets his hands on it, rubbing all over and squeezing the flesh in his hands. She's sure he'll leave some marks.

She moans as she sinks down onto his cock, feeling all of him filling her up so perfectly.  She almost forgets that it's about getting him to 'forgive' her, as she feels so lost in pleasure from his cock rubbing on her inner walls deliciously.

"Ahh Junmyeonn..." her eyes are closed and she bites her lip, sitting still and adjusting to his size.

"Mm... start moving." And so she does.

She starts rocking back and forth a little, building up the pace slowly till it gets faster and faster. Skin clapping sounds and wetness can be heard throughout the room, and at the back of her mind she worries again that their friends might hear something.

"Mhmm so good babygirl... I might just forgive you," she imagines how he looks at the moment, eyes hazy and barely open, with a lazy smirk across his face. She whimpers as she feels she might orgasm just from the mental stimulation of this moment.

"Oh yeah? What's it gotta take?" Before he could reply to her they hear a knock on the door, which makes her freeze and stop her movements with her eyes wide open.

"You guys okay ? Did you kill each other ?" Junmyeon swears under his breath, gripping her hips and telling her to move quietly. She looks back at him and shakes her head in disapproval, but he quickly acts and comes up with something.

He smoothly adjusts their position as he pulls her back against him, lying down with her back against his chest while still connected with him inside. He covers her mouth with one hand and answers.

"We're fine." Ever so slowly he starts moving again, and with this new angle his head is rubbing that spot just right to make her eyes roll to the back of her head.

"Are you sure ?" The door handle moves, and even though it's locked she still looks back at him beside her in alarm. He shushes her in silence and once again speaks.

"Yeah. We're figuring it out." He thrusts up inside so deep, and if not for his hand she would've been way louder than she should.

"Okay, if you say so..." they hear steps fade away and Junmyeon lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. He removes his hand away from her mouth and she talks.

"Fuck, you're insane..." she moans. He doesn't reply and grabs onto her hips with his two hands now, thrusting up into her better and making her whimper against her own will.

"Holy!-" she gets choked up with pleasure, the feeling of him inside her thrusting at this angle even harder getting way too good.  He grunts, and she hears his accelerating breath behind her as he gets closer and closer to his finish.

"Mm... you're so tight around me," he hums into her neck, then places a few wet kisses there. "You feel so good."

Her orgasm is building up as she hears his dirty talk, getting so close to her release.

"Junmyeon... you're gonna make me cum," she becomes more and more of a mess in his arms, as he continues to fuck into her so good.

"Then cum." He whispers breathlessly, and that was all it took for her to reach her euphoria in whimpers and soft moans. He feels her body melt into him as she gets lost in her high, her wet heat pulsing and gripping around him in the best way possible.

"Use me Myeonnie... cum inside me please," He's not too far behind her, feeling his own orgasm approaching as he finally explodes inside her.

He continues to pump her insides full of his cum, and she feels his pulsing cock while he moans and finishes himself.

They stay still for a few seconds, before he pulls himself out of her dripping hole. She looks down at her destroyed pussy, all wet and glistening, not knowing he was also doing the same until she feels his hand run down her body till it reaches that place.

"Keep it all inside till you get home.  Got it?" He uses his fingers to push his load back inside her heat. She grips his arm and bites her lip as he does so.

"O-okay... okay." She rests her head back against him, then smiles to herself in victory when she feels him softly kissing her cheek and cuddling her closer.

Freshly fucked and definitely forgiven.

[bajitheestallion]

WET DREAMZ. - takemichi hanagaki

synopsis: i ain't ever did this before, no.

contains: slight femdom (?), perv takemichi, lowercapped, mentions of stalking sorta kinda, fem reader, this nigga NEEDS it, its obv he does, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, mentions of a one night stand

a/n : listen to wet dreams - j. cole when reading, even if this isn't gonna be that long. mdni, etc etc all that good shit.

TAKEMICHI hanagaki isn't a pervert. he makes it obvious he isn't, well he thinks he does. he never notices how his eyes manage to fall on every dip and curve on your body as you cheerily talk to him with no intent. the way your lashes met and batted up at him while he couldn't help but tense up. the thought was always nudged off your shoulder because takemichi is always nervous around women, he's just nervous.

even if his hands always fell a little bit lower every time you hugged, how his breath hitched and his shoulders tensed whenever you even accidentally grazed upon him. even if you didn't notice how he peeked around corners and slid into alleyways right after you both split up to head home, the melodious sound of quiet grumbles and whimpers.

he was just a friend who was a bit inexperienced, you knew he was. you joked about it often, letting your warm fingertips drag across his chest whenever you walked past him. the bare minimum, obviously you weren't interested. he knew you werent, so he let this game of cat and mouse go on longer until his body finally got used to it. and surprisingly enough, he did!

that was until you had brought up the question.

"are you all still virgins?"

a bit of silence lingered with the sound of another table in the back hollered with the sound of some time of sports team doing something you were uninterested in. it was a fairly small get together, just a few life long friends. you, takemichi, mikey, draken, and mitsuya were sitting on bar stools with a wide variety of drinks on hand. the counter was wood and fairly fucked up, several carvings or drawings of what you assumed to be a vagina next to someones phone number, or the loving sight of initials with a heart around them. but you paid no mind.

"no. did it seem like it?" the first answer quickly tore the thick tension in the air you knew you'd create. of course, this was intentional, and of course draken was the first one to put it out there. "you forgot where i used to live?" he asked before letting his lips connect to the glass of his beer, eyes closed and relaxed.

takemichi flinches.

"i'm not either." mitsuya quickly chimed in with a hiccup sticking at his adam's apple, causing it to bob gently. "it was bound to happen, i guess i am a charmer." his hair is messier than it was when you all first met. his cheeks and nose are dusted a gentle red, as well at the tips of his ears.

you can hear takemichi stumble out of his seat.

mikey just nods and keeps sipping at the fifth drink he's had for the night.

takemichi waddles off without a word.

"y'think you caught him?" mitsuya looks towards you sluggishly, his eyes digging right into yours, "we, well i," he hiccups and looks a bit nauseous for a second, before regaining his composure. "i can tell you were waiting." and he was right, because you were waiting.

more importantly, so was takemichi.

and you know how takemichi gets when he's impatient.

considering his hand was in his hair and his back was against the wall of the fairly dirty bathroom. it was unfair. unfair how you got to prance around in small skirts and tight shirts that hugged your body in.. oh, so loving places. he can't help but stare and imagine his hands holding your waist passionately, thumb stroking your skin and tracing your v line.

ziiiiip.

hanagaki's face is flushed a bright red, he's practically shaking as he tugs his jeans and boxers down to the middle of his thighs. the feeling of the not too strong alcohol lingering in his system, huffing out of his mouth as he panted. waiting for his hard on to fling out and bead precum right at his red tip.

his dick is pretty. he doesn't know it though. it's not too small, but also not too big. around 5-6 inches, his tip is a bright red, and always twitches if he's that aroused. he covers his mouth with his shirt and lets his eyelids hesitate to touch before his finally starts moving his hand.

sure, it's not your mouth, nor your cunt. it'll do. he moves the shirt from his lips and seems a bit dazed, letting his tongue hang out a bit and let out a loooooong slow line of spit fall from the organ, right onto his neglected shaft as a make-do lube. his stroking is deathly slow, and his body is shaking and twitching against the cold wooden door.

you pressed your back against the door, making sure he heard the thud of your body touching it.

"how long were you waiting?" you expect him to take a while to respond.

"too long. t-too long." takemichi's voice is shaking and he sounds inches away from blowing his load on his stomach. he repeats himself since the first time he spoke, it was a bit too quiet. he slides down the door a little, his stroking getting a bit more messy at the sound of your voice. chest rising and falling in tune with his off-tuned breathing.

"i bet." your legs instinctively spread. you won't get caught right? the bathroom is pretty secluded. you let your body do the thinking and you start sliding down, letting your skirt ride up your thighs as you pull the thin cloth of your panties down your legs, kicking them off until it's around your left ankle. your middle and ring finger trace down your torso and fall right above your clit before starting to move in circle on top of it mindlessly.

"what were you thinking of?"

"you. like, a lot. a-a lot." he sounded quiet again, "i couldn't help but leave." it sounds like his hand is starting to move faster, which causes yours to as well. the sound of both of you attempting to stay quiet, letting your noises blend and hide within the loud booming of cheers on the other side of the bar. "you'd feel... so nice on top of me. so.. fuckin' pretty." his words seem a bit more jumpy and his moans sound more full. dripping with hints of lust and gentle bursts of evidence he was enjoying this a bit too much. you sink into his words, whenever he's like this you can always just let him take over your mind, explaining how your fingers were already inches away from slipping inside of your cunt.

"you'd look real nice when i'm inside of you. i wanna cum for you, r-real bad." your fingers slide in right as he says it, he really is in control, even if you thought you were.

the feeling of your fingers curling and nudging at all the sensitive spots hidden in your gummy walls as takemichi unknowingly let his his words fly right in one ear and to your cunt. floating words of pleads mixed with longing moans. you remember these in specific, you'll possibly remember it the rest of your life. he's got you in his hold when he least expected to.

"i really.. really wanna feel you. you're so pretty." with a gentle swallow of his spit at the end.

"'s.. 's.. close.. shitshithsihit.." his paces picks up then quickly slows down, and your fingers attempt to keep up.

the crowd on the opposing side of the bar grows quiet as you both reach your climax, causing the both of you to cover your mouth so no one managed to overhear.

he cums in spurts, his white load dripping down his knuckles as he finally lets his eyes open slowly. but, while he can catch his breath, you're a bit busy trying not to get called. "let's not make this a one time thing, huh hanagaki?" you say with a grin, being slightly taken aback at the sight of your phone screen lit up with a text.

"i-i mean.. okay?" he responds while you read the message.

shit.

' can we talk tmrw? '

' imy '

[forever-rogue]

Crimelord Boba Fett proposing to female reader and promises to protect her with his life. :)

Did someone say King of the Underworld Boba Fett? Don’t mind if we do. Goodbye Bib Fortuna, long live the King.

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; warnings: egregious use of little one

Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The air is acrid and thick, feeling like it was suffocating you rather than helping to you live. Raising a hand to your face, you looked around the desolate Dune Sea, wondering why on earth you were being summoned to Maker forsaken Tatooine. And who the kriff was summoning you?

All you knew was that you had been summoned from your home on Corsucant - rather forcefully, and dragged back to this hell hole. Under any other circumstances you would have fought back or questioned what was actually going on, but something about the small but imposing woman that dragged you with her caused you to keep your mouth shut. She hadn’t given you so much as a name - hers or your mysterious summoner, and you hadn’t asked.

She’d watched you closely on the hours long ride to Tatooine, seeming to study and observe you with curiosity. At one point you had wanted to snap back at her but the weapons holstered to her side and stowed around the ship made you bite your tongue and bide your time. The woman didn’t say a single word; neither did you.

If you were being taken to your death, then that was that. You’d made that much up in your mind as soon as you’d stepped foot onto the ship. Harsh and cruel as it was too say, there wasn’t much you would be losing, nor would many people miss you. It was a quiet life you led these days, keeping to yourself and your humble abode in a small, but safe corner of Coruscant.

You’d been there, waiting, hoping, wishing ever since - no.

No, no, no. You weren’t going to let your mind back to that dark, haunted place. It was something that still managed to seep into the front of your mind, no matter how many years you tried to suppress them. It was when a man with dark hair would come into your little shop and you’d only catch a glimpse. When you heard deep, rough laughter that was all consuming. When you’d see a hint of green armor. When you’d hear a voice even remotely similar to his...

Boba Fett might have died many years ago, but he had never left your heart. He was still in everything you did, so many little things reminding you of what was and what could have been.

You hadn’t been back to this living hell since the day he’d died, lost to the sarlacc and left only to become memories that would fade away over generations. You’d wanted to stay there, to wait and see if somehow he would come back to you, but you couldn’t.

You’d left the next day and never looked back. You hated yourself for it, but you also...your heart had been broken into hundreds of millions of tiny shards of transparisteel. Ever since, you’d hoped that maybe one you’d come across your lover.

But the day never came. And while you went along with life, you still held onto the slight hope that maybe one day...maybe, maybe, maybe.

A soft sigh escaped your parched lips as you felt immediately all consumed by the sand, like it was becoming a part of you or you were destined to become a part of it. Either way, it was enough to frustrate you as you shielded your eyes from the harsh heat and blazing light of the twin suns.

“Keep up,” it was the first time she had spoken to you since she’d first called your name and instructed you to come with her. She was commanding for a figure so slight, but you had a feeling she was much deadlier than she looked - and she was already a sight. Biting back a groan you picked up the pace and trailed after her, confusion clouding your features as you began to realize where you were headed.

This was Jabba’s Palace...well no - Bib Fortuna’s. Just like Boba, Jabba, the disgusting, foul, loathsome leader of the galaxy’s biggest syndicate had been dead for some time.

What the kriff would Bib Fortuna want with you?

You’d cut off any ties you’d had with any of them long ago, before Boba was even dead. There was no way you could ever provide anything useful to him...

Autopilot had completely taken over and you were barely aware of the fact that you’d reached the palace and were headed towards its inner sanctum. Your stomach lurched as you walked through the walls you hoped would forever be a memory as you realized just how clearly you remember it all. Sure, the place had seen better days, wearing down from the harsh sandy winds and the hands of time, but it was ever the same.

Except this time - few people were milling about, no workers to be seen and it felt surprisingly...tame. Not something you thought would ever be possible for his place. Something had to have happened... something was off-

“Down,” the woman pointed at the stone staircase, her hand on the small of your back as she gently nudged you towards the top step. You were half surprised that she didn’t just completely shove you down to the bottom, but the energy you were getting from her wasn’t mean or negative...just curious.

“W-what?” you managed to stammer, your throat dry and scratchy the heat and lack of water. She quirked a dark brow and pointed at the stairs again.

“Down,” she repeated, “it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

Kriff. You were going to die at the hands of Fortuna. He was a weak man, bolstered by those he keep around him, ego inflated beyond measure. On his own he was a pathetic little thing, but when surrounded by his goons, he was cruel and merciless at worst.

Accepting your fate, you started your slow descend down the stairs, your heartbeat screaming in your ears with each foot fall. Your chest was thumping so wildly you were sure that it would burst through your chest at any point.

But nothing met your ears, there were no sounds, no talking, no music, nothing. It was almost deafeningly silent.

When your feet hit the soft sand floor, you did a quick survey of the almost empty room. A few torches lined the wall, but that was about all. The throne was in the center of the room as it always was and -

Maker. The Throne.

As you looked at it, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked upon the singular figure in the room besides yourself.

The man was in armor from head to toe. Green armor. With red accents. You knew those colors, those colors you once considered your own, those were his colors.

But no - it couldn’t have been. No, no, no, this was an impostor, this was -

“Hello little one,” that voice. You knew it more intimately than anything else, you know that voice inside and out. That voice that had laughed at you a million times, that voice that been in your ear during the heat of passion, the one that teased you, the one that scolded you when you did something dangerous. That voice.

It was his. Boba’s.

“No,” you shook your head as you refused to move closer to the man that was surely a pretender - a great one, but still not your Boba, “y-y-you aren’t...no.”

He remained silent for a long moment, the dark T of his visor trained on your as he refused to look away. You stared right back, as if you were seeing a ghost - in some ways you were.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, stepping down from his throne, imposing as ever as he slowly walked over to you. You stilled in your actions, wondering if you should run away or fight or something. Instead you watched as he came closer and closer and closer - right until he stopped dead in front of you.

“You’re just as pretty as then,” his voice was soft as he reached a gloved hand up touch your cheek. He hesitated before making contact with your skin, stripping the worn leather gloves off and tossing them mindlessly onto the sandy floor. He watched you closely before finally touching your cheek to his see if you would stop him or flinch out of his touch.

But you didn’t; despite believing he was gone all of these years, a small bit of you still had hope.

“Boba?” it was a weak, pathetic little whimper as you keened into his touch. He stalled for just a moment, his heart almost stopping at the sound of his name from your lips. It was even sweeter than he remembered, “is it really you?”

“I told you I’d never leave you, little one,” he rasped as you worked to blink back tears that had started to well up in your eyes. You looked at him with wide doe eyes as he made a small sound in the back of his throat. As a single tear pearled up and ran down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away, “it just took me a little longer than planned to get back to you.”

And then you laughed; despite the situation and the overwhelming onslaught of emotions, you just laughed. Before you knew it, he was laughing as well, a warm, rich sound that you remembered like it had been yesterday.

“Boba,” you couldn’t believe it. This whole time, all these years, your hope wasn’t wasted after all, “you’re alive. You’re here - I’m here. I-I...I dreamed of this day so many times.”

“As have I,” he promised, “I’m just...I’m afraid that I might be a little different than you last remembered - the sarlacc was not a kind friend to me.”

“I don’t care,” you promised him, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. You’re alive and that’s all...I...please, let me look at your face. I need to see you, Boba.”

He gave a curt nod before dropping his hand from your cheek and exhaling deeply. Slowly, he put his hands on either of the helmet - newly painted, you noted - and tugged it up and off. You swallowed nervously, anxious to see the eyes of your lover once again.

Boba let the helmet fall to the ground, the thud dulled by the pillowy sand, nervous for you to say something, anything. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but this? This was nothing; scarred and more weathered than when he had been a younger man, he was still the same as always. Boba - your Boba.

“At least one of us is - “

Before he could say anything in the negative, your put your hands on either side of his face before crashing your lips onto his. He was taken aback for a moment at your sudden action, but it didn’t take more than a beat for him to wrap his arms around you and hold you tightly against his chest. It was like no time had passed at all, and you still knew each other just as you always had.

Only when you needed a breath of air did you pull apart, staring back into his soft brown eyes.

“Boba,” it was soft - reverent - and worked to thaw the icy harshness that had settled over his heart, “I love you. I’ve always loved you so much. I never stopped. I always hoped that somehow you would make your way back to me.”

“Always, my little one,” he promised with a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I will always protect you. No harm shall ever come to you so long as I live and breathe.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” you wrapped your arms his neck and held him, just held him, as the two of your synced your breathing and become reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

“Will you stay?” he asked quietly as you pulled back and nodded. For Boba, you would have done anything and gone anywhere in the galaxy, “w-with me?”

“Yes,” you promised him softly as you traced over his features delicately with the tip of your finger, “always. There’s nothing that would make me happier.”

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered as you nodded, “I promise we’ll never be apart again.”

“I’ll hold you to that Boba Fett,” you sighed contentedly, “I love you, Boba.”

“I love you too, little one,” he kissed the top of your head, “come on, we have much to talk about.”

“And now have all the time in the galaxy.”

[pr1ncessm00n]

for sale or wanted — jean kirstein x fem! reader

series masterlist

prev | next , part two

warnings: cursing, porco being toxic lol. dates are wrong once again sorry !!

[ playlist : love again - dua lipa ]

eight.

Half asleep and ready to go to bed, Y/N fell back into her bed. She picked up her phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll through some TikToks. Instead, she was met with two messages. Audibly gasping as she read Porco’s name, she dropped her phone, hitting herself in the face in the process. “Ow!”

Porco? Y/N thought incredulously. What the hell does he want?

Contemplating asking Ymir and Sasha for advice, Y/N then decided against it. This was her life, she couldn’t expect her friends to guide her though it. But God, was she such a coward when it came to Porco. It wasn’t like he was Prince Charming, but Y/N had an extreme loyalty complex. She couldn’t ever allow herself to let go of people. Porco used to berate her for that constantly.

Why are you so clingy? He would ask.

Who’s the clingy one now? Y/N thought bitterly. She decided to ignore Porco’s text until she could think of a reply that wasn’t along the lines of “No, fuck you.” She slid her thumb over to Jean’s message.

Great. Another text asking to talk. Why couldn’t people just send their question and save a girl the anxiety? Y/N scolded herself for allowing her egotistical ex to ruin her mood. Jean didn’t deserve her snappiness.

Jean sighed in relief. Thank God she replied. He didn’t know if he could handle the mortification if she didn’t.

Y/N pondered for a bit.

Y/N laughed quietly to herself. So Jean could in fact match her sense of humor. She exited out of their chat, mindlessly scrolling through social media. She actively avoided Porco’s message, not wanting to burden herself with the chore of responding to him. What could he possibly have to say? She headed to Twitter, hopefully finding something relatable to retweet. As Y/N scrolled, she saw a familiar face appear on her timeline.

Recommended for you from contacts, the header read. Below it was about 3 profiles of people in her contacts she had not followed yet. Among them, was Jean.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

Should I? She questioned. Would she be overstepping some unspoken boundary? What if she hurt her own feelings by stalking and seeing something she wouldn’t like/had no business seeing? Maybe she should just ignore it. She doubted Jean was some internet creep… but wouldn’t it be good to know if he was? Curiosity getting the better of her, Y/N decided to invade that boundary and look at his account.

He didn’t have much content from what Y/N could see. He just retweeted fancy cars and some funny memes. She spotted Connie, Sasha’s lifelong friend and Jean’s infamous roomie. She mentally hoped Jean didn’t tweet like Connie. That would be the ultimate ick.

Y/N’s thumb stopped scrolling, hovering over a tweet. Her heart beated ten times more rapidly.

well she is pretty lol, Jean’s tweet read. Tweeted just an hour after he met Y/N.

Could it be? Y/N wondered. No way. There’s no way it’s about me. I’m just jumping to conclusions. Why would he say that about me? I’m just being self absorbed.

She brushed off her inquiries, deciding to just stop stalking his account entirely. From what she already saw, there wasn’t anything suspicious or icky enough to make her want to not interact with him. And she was already paranoid, so every tweet she saw she would begin to assume it was about her as well. She was just getting her hopes up.

Rolling over on her side, Y/N placed her phone to charge and went to sleep. It was late, which was probably what was causing her mind to become fuddled.

——

“You should’ve told me Sasha’s third roomie was Y/N,” Reiner had said to Jean in the truck. “I totally blindsided her. Top ten worst encounters of my life.”

“Uh, care to enlighten me? Do you guys have beef or something?” Jean asked, perusing the radio stations.

Reiner sighed. “She’s dating- was dating- my childhood friend, Porco.”

Jean felt his stomach drop. “Oh.”

Reiner glanced at him before stopping at a red light. “I said dating. He dumped her like a week ago. It was pretty trash.”

Jean secretly felt more at peace hearing that. Poor Y/N, but.. she could probably do better than this Porco person.

“So what does that have to do with you?” Jean asked.

Reiner shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really help. She said she felt a little betrayed. Like I agreed with Porco and my friends that she’s the crazy one.”

Jean nodded. “So you were a bystander.”

Reiner sighed again, tilting his head in an I guess motion. “It’s just hard. Porco’s like my brother, and I don’t agree with how he acted… but maybe I should have spoken up sooner.”

Jean patted his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself, man. That was between them.”

“Yeah. I could have at least told Porco to step it up, though.” Reiner murmured.

I’m glad you didn’t. Jean snickered to himself.

“So, you think she’s cute?” Reiner shot Jean a devilish grin. Jean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess. You goin’ to Historia’s birthday?” He slyly changed the subject.

“Is it open invite?” Reiner’s eyebrows scrunched up.

Jean shrugged. “I have an invite. Maybe you can be my plus one.”

Reiner made a “Hmm” sound in response, weary at Jean’s invite. “What are you dressing as if you go?”

“I was thinking swag era Justin Bieber.” Jean replied, smiling widely.

Reiner gave him a look. “You for real?”

Jean’s smile dropped. “What?”

Reiner laughed. “I’d pay money to see how badly you embarrass yourself with that.”

“It’s a 2000’s party?” Jean was confused.

“Yeah, but everyone does like, early 2000s. Think Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake.”

Jean shot him a curious look.

“What? Pop culture is my guilty pleasure.” Reiner explained himself. “And everyone knows Britney Spears.”

Jean hummed in response. “I just think you got a thing for pop girls.” He referenced the earlier Becky G mishap.

“I’m not even gonna deny it anymore.” Reiner agreed, defeated.

——

“Guys,” Y/N said the next morning. Ymir and Sasha were at the breakfast “nook” (a corner of their miniature kitchen designated for a small table that barely fit all three of them), Sasha eating cereal and Ymir chomping on an apple while scrolling on her phone. “Porco texted me last night.”

Ymir continued scrolling, unfazed. Sasha’s eyes widened and she swallowed her food before speaking. “What? Why?” Y/N glared at Ymir.

“Thanks for your interest YMIR, but as i was telling Sasha-“

“I’m Sasha.” Sasha cut in, obviously confused.

Y/N gave Sasha a look.

“Did you say something?” Ymir said, bored. She still hadn’t looked up from her phone.

“Ymir!” Sasha scolded. “Y/N’s telling us Porco texted her!”

“Who’s Porco?” Ymir replied, monotonous.

Y/N sighed in exasperation. “Are you stalking Eren again? I already told you to stop comparing your subscribers-“

“I’m not stalking Eren!” Ymir snapped defensively. “I’m…” She mumbled the next part incoherently.

“Huh?” Sasha and Y/N asked in unison.

“I SAID,” Ymir repeated, annoyed. “I’m looking up Britney Spears outfits. Historia wanted us to go as different eras of her. But I can’t find anything that matches my style.” She grumbled.

Y/N’s heart melted. It was adorable watching Ymir struggle to find a matching costume for Historia. It was like Marilyn Manson wanting to get along with a CareBear.

“Just go as JT,” Sasha said, chewing her cereal.

“One, close your mouth, and two, Historia asked for us to go as Brittney. I can’t just show up like a dude.” Ymir visibly deflated as she scrolled through countless pictures of a younger Spear’s iconic looks.

“Why don’t you try her bandanna phase? That wasn’t so over the top, and she wore mostly jeans.” Y/N suggested as she squeezed into the corner chair.

Ymir sighed. “I don’t want to wear a skirt or some bimbo shit. That’s y’alls look.”

“How do you manage to sound endearing trying to please your girlfriend while simultaneously insulting us?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“It’s a talent.” Ymir waved her off. “What did you guys get her though?”

“A giftcard to Urban Outfitters,” Sasha replied. “I got tired of searchin’. I put $50 on it. I think that should be enough for like, a shirt and a half. She better like it, too. ‘Cus I’m broke.” Sasha pointed her spoon at Ymir accusingly.

“I got her the Taylor Swift vinyl she’s been wanting. And some pink film for her camera.” Y/N added. Ymir nodded approvingly.

“I hope she likes my gift. I don’t know if I’m moving too fast though?” For the first time since Y/N mer Ymir, Y/N hadn’t ever seen her this distraught.

“Calm down,” Y/N reassured her. “You’ve been together for years now. I don’t think you can move any slower.”

Ymir rolled her eyes, leaning back im her chair with arms crossed. “It’s a small trip to Seoul. I know she’s been dying to go. It’s not like it’s anything she hasn’t seen before with her family… but I figure it’d be different with just us.” Y/N’s heart melted.

“That’s so sweet!” Sasha exclaimed, eyes watery. “I want an Ymir!”

“Well, you can’t have me!” Ymir laughed. “It’s not a big deal. The sponsorship I managed to land gave me a decent payout.” Ymir sheepishly replied, her cheeks a faint red

Y/N nudged her. “Look at you, being modest.”

Ymir waved her hand. “Shut up. How does this look?” She turned her phone to Y/N, showing a picture of Britney Spears clad in low waist jeans, a black tank top and sure enough, a yellow bandanna.

“That’s perfect.”

Ymir smirked, smug. “Just like me.”

“Y/N!” Sasha shouted. “Go back to the Porco thing!”

“Oh, yeah. What did Oinky want?” The girls turned to face Y/N, who shrank a bit back in her seat.

“That’s a new one,” Y/N chuckled. “I thought of one last night, too,” She paued for dramatic effect. “Porker!” She gasped out, giggling, hitting the table in a slight fit of laughter. Sasha and Ymir gave Y/N a blank stare, unamused at Y/N’s mediocre roast.

“Not funny, didn’t laugh.” Sasha spat.

“If your career was stand up you’d be living in a box.” Ymir deadpanned.

“Tough crowd,” Y/N sighed, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “But if you must know…” She purposely stalled a bit, knowing it would send an impatient, jittery Sasha over the edge and annoy Ymir even more, even if she pretended she was not interested in the relationship drama between Y/N and her disgraced ex.

“Just say it already!” Sasha begged.

“I…don’t know. I haven’t responded.” Y/N finally admitted, putting her head in her hands. “I just-“ Her words were muffled by her hands.

Ymir removed her hands from her face. “Your words, darling.” She scolded, voice oozing sarcasm.

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned. “I’m too pussy to respond. He just asked if we could talk. What could he possibly want? What if he wants the couch? It’s just too much.”

Sasha gave her a sympathetic gaze. “Just leave him on read! If he wants to talk so badly he’ll find a way to say what he needs to.”

“For once, I agree.” Ymir added.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Y/N stretched. “But it did keep me up at night wondering what he wanted.”

“Y/N, forget him! Historia’s party is soon, there’s no time to worry about ugly men!” Sasha stood up, rushing to put her bowl in the sink. “I got a lecture in a few, but you need to find your costume! We’re all going as Britney!” She said before disappearing into her room.

“Um, who’s gonna tell her we’re not all dressing as Britney?” Ymir inquired.

Y/N snorted. “Not I. I’m probably going as Suki from Fast and the Furious.”

“Niiceee,” Ymir fist pumped Y/N. “She was my sexual awakening.” Y/N choked on her muffin.

“Ymir, what’d we say about uncalled for horniness?” Y/N reprimanded. Ymir made her way to the coat rack, searching for her car keys in her leather jacket’s pocket.

“If I was gonna be chewed out for liking women I would’ve lived with my parents!” Ymir called out. “I gotta pick up Historia!”

“Will you be back?” Y/N shouted back.

“Get off my dick!” Ymir shut the door. Laughing to herself, Y/N picked up Ymir’s dish to place in the sink. She was, out of the three, the more tidier one. Ymir did the best cleaning, but she was selectively lazy.

“Bye, Y/N!” Sasha shouted before leaving in a rush. One thing Y/N had grown used to was the fairly chaotic mornings. She secretly hoped they would be like this for a long time.

Since Y/N had transferred, Ymir and Sasha had been the best roommates she could ask for. Yes, Ymir was snappy and Sasha was a bit ditzy, but it was the perfect combination and they were respectful. Y/N had transferred from Sina University purely for academic reasons, but she had not expected to fit in so well with the girls or their group of pre establish friends. She worried she would not fit in since they had already been so tight-knit, but found that wasn’t the case at all. They were open, accepting and loyal. Y/N couldn’t be happier where she was, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she was grateful for how close they had all gotten in their short time together. Who knew randomly assigned rooming would provide her with friendship to last a lifetime?

Which is why every time she thought about Porco she kicked herself. How could she have let some… meathead ruin her freshmen year of college? She should have been having fun, interacting with Ymir and Sasha’s friends more, lived her own life. But no, she chose to become involved with a self absorbed fraternity guy of all people. Now she was semi-heartbroken, extremely humiliated, and about a year’s worth of time and effort short. She had allowed him to take advantage of her so much, that he felt he could contact her still after basically using her. The thought made her want to rip her hair out and scream.

Almost as if through divine intervention, her phone beeped with a notification.

What the actual hell? Y/N thought.

She froze for a second. What does she do? Respond? Ignore? Block?

After a few seconds of mental deliberation, Y/N finally decided. She was fed up with the lack of bravery she showed and decided to just end it once and for all. Typing out a response, she clicked send and decided to go to the mall for the retail therapy she was sure to need after whatever Porco said what he wanted to say. Turning the shower on, she braced herself for his response. What could Porco want? She couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

This better be good, Y/N thought.

taglist : @tsunderehokage @lagrimasdeglitter @snowyseungs @mukeovernetflix @bakugouswh0r3 @punicorn999 @deadlyaffairs @usernamehere91 @calumsfringe

a/n: woohoo!! long chapter. so to recap: i graduated!! i am finally free from the clutches of high school. i might do a face reveal :) bc i loved my grad dress. anywho, my fever cleared up, i have chapter 9 already completed (just need to revise + edit) and this is NOT proof read!! it’s 2 am guys i’m tired. but i hope you enjoyed this :) sorry for the weird cropping too. peace out

[bibbawrites]

Don’t Get Caught - Owen Joyner x Reader (16+)

Request: mischievous/playful/giggly sneaking around with Owen on set or evading Charlie in their apartment

Word Count: 3142 words

Summary: You are a makeup artist on set for Julie and The Phantoms and quickly began messing around with Owen, but the fear of potentially losing your job if anyone finds out has the two of you sneaking around and trying your best to not be caught aka 4 times you and Owen were almost caught messing around and one time you were 

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, implied oral sex, reference to m*sturbation

A/N: hi all! so this is my first attempt at a jatp related fic so hopefully i do okay, sorry for any mistakes, most of this was written and edited from 2am-6am because those are my motivation hours  i also don’t usually write reader insert so fingers crossed i dont mess this up lol. i have a ton of requests to work through so keep an eye out for things coming soon (hopefully)  also, to the person who requested this, sorry it took so long (my dumb ass deleted 90% of it and had to start again) i really hope i did your idea justice :)

1. Makeup Trailer 

The first time you met Owen was on your first day on set. Kenny had dragged the cast in to meet you, and something about Owen drew you in and you just knew you had to get to know the beautiful blonde boy. 

Luckily your chance came sooner than expected when you were working alone in the makeup trailer a few days later. The door opened and Owen came in, smiling brightly when he saw you.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” He asked. You nodded.

“I am.” You replied and he grinned.

“I’m Owen. Nice to meet you, again.” He said awkwardly.

You giggled at his awkwardness. 

“Nice to meet you again too. Sit down.” You gestured to the chair in front of you and he sat down. You got to work quickly, working in silence for a few minutes before Owen spoke up.

“So how long have you been doing makeup for? You look young.” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it professionally for 5 years now. I started working in my mum’s salon when I was 15, and when I graduated I did a course to get me this job.” You told him. He paused.

“So you’re 20?” He questioned, and you nodded.

“I am.” 

“Cool, I’m 19.”  He said, and you hummed in response, concentrating on making sure his face didn’t looked cakey.

“So are you from around here?” You shook your head.

“Nah I moved here from Quebec.” You said.

“Alone? Or with your family or... boyfriend?” Owen asked, the last part sounding slightly bitter.

“Yeah I came alone, my mum is too busy with her salon, and my siblings are still in school. And I don’t have a boyfriend.” You told him and he grinned slightly.

“Good to know.” He muttered quietly. You raised an eyebrow, not quite hearing him properly.

“Sorry?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Nothing.” 

“Okay...” You trailed off, not believing him. “Well you’re all done.”

“Already?” He frowned slightly. 

“Yep.” You smiled.

“Oh. Thanks.” He stood up, pausing slightly. 

“Can I get your number?” He asked, somewhat hesitantly. Realisation dawned on you.

“So that’s why you asked about a boyfriend.” You said, eyebrow raised. 

“Guilty.” He grinned cheekily.

“Give me your phone.” You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it, and you quickly added a new contact, typing in your number and texting yourself from his phone.

“There. I’ll text you pretty boy.” You said, handing him his phone back. He grinned.

“I’ll see you around Y/N.” He said, turning to leave for the hair trailer. You watched him leave with a smile on your face.

A week of texting and flirting later and you found yourself alone with Owen in the makeup trailer again.

“So what scenes are you filming today pretty boy?” You questioned as you began to apply his makeup.

“Why do you always call me pretty boy?” He asked, ignoring your question.

“Because you’re pretty? And a boy?” You said, pulling a face.

“Are you flirting with me?” He grinned, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” You said. He bit his lip.

“So if I tried to kiss you you’d say?” He asked, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Eh why not?” You said it like it was nothing but inside you were freaking out.

“Y/N.” He groaned and you giggled.

“Just kidding.” You teased.

“So?” He asked again after a moment of silence. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh my god just kiss me you dork.” Owen didn’t even take a second to think about it, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, connecting your lips in a less than innocent kiss. Your lips fitted together perfectly, and he tasted faintly of blueberry and spearmint. After what felt like a lifetime he pulled away from you, leaving you panting and wanting more.

“Wow that was...” He was the first to speak, his voice breathy. You nodded.

“Yep.” You said simply. “I should probably...”

You stood up from his lap, and had barely stepped away when the door opened.

“Hey Y/N, one of my lashes came off and... oh...” Savannah’s voice came, the young actress pausing when she saw how close the two of you were.

“Hey Savannah.” You said with a smile. She returned your smile before glancing back at Owen.

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” She asked. The two of you shook your heads.

“No, not at all.” You said.

“I was just leaving.” Owen added, standing up from his chair. Savannah raised an eyebrow.

“If you say so.” She replied as Owen left the trailer quickly. The door shut behind him and Savannah grinned at you.

“You like him.” She said, her tone teasing.

“No...” You denied. Savannah rolled her eyes.

“You so do Y/N. And I know Owen, he definitely likes you too.” She told you.

“If you say so.” You said, grabbing a new fake lash to fix the missing one.

Savannah grinned. 

“Oh I know so. You’ll see.”

2. Julie’s Bedroom Set

“Come on Y/N, what’s the worst that could happen?” Owen had said as he dragged you through the filming lot towards the set of Julie’s bedroom. You had been heading off to grab some lunch when he had intercepted you and asked if you wanted to “hang”, which by this point you knew was code for hide somewhere and make out for a while. You had originally said no, but those darn puppy eyes had made you say yes before you even realised you were saying it. 

“What if someone catches us?” You had questioned, but Owen silenced your worries with a blistering kiss that left you breathless. 

“We’ll be fine.” He muttered as he pulled away. “Don’t stress.” 

“Famous last words.” You muttered, allowing him to pull you back in and kiss you again. You ran your fingers through his hair, knowing that he would have to have it fixed up before his next scene anyways. 

It had been a few weeks since that first kiss in the makeup trailer, and since then you had learnt the taste and feeling of Owen’s lips on yours, a feeling that was now so familiar to you that it felt like second nature. 

You mindlessly kissed him back, thanking your past self for deciding to use your favourite chapstick flavour, choc mint, on him earlier that morning when you did his makeup for the day. 

You pulled away to take a breath and he grinned at you. 

“I’m glad we met.” He said. You blushed slightly.

“Me too.” You agreed.

He pulled you back in and kissed you again, this kiss more passionate than the last, and you shuffled closer to him, your lips never leaving his for a second. You could feel his hands resting on your waist, his tongue in your mouth, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

Suddenly you heard a noise and you pulled away quickly, the fear of being caught overpowering your feelings for Owen.

“Someone’s coming.” You said quickly. Owen frowned.

“What?” He questioned.

“There’s someone coming.” You repeated and his expression changed to fear.

“Fuck, what do we do? Run?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes.” 

He grabbed your hands and pulled you up off the bed, linking your fingers together before dragging you off the set, the both of you giggling the whole way back to his trailer.

“It’s kinda fun, almost but not quite getting caught.” You admitted once the two of you were curled up on the couch in his trailer.

“It is.” He agreed. “But do you know what’s even more fun?”

“What?” You questioned.

“Making out with you.”

And if Owen went back to set with the taste of your orgasm on his tongue that was for only the two of you to know. 

3. Owen and Charlie’s Living Room 

You had just finished some finishing touches on Savannah’s makeup when Owen burst into the makeup trailer. 

“You’re all done.” You told Savannah and she grinned. 

“Thanks Y/N.” She stood up from the chair. “See you later. Bye Owen.” 

She glanced between the two of you, before turning and giving you a quick wink as she left, leaving you and Owen alone in the trailer. 

“So?” You spoke, beginning to pack up your brushes. “Why are you here?” 

“Well you see, I’m finished for the day and I checked your schedule and you are too, and I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place to watch a movie and chill or something.” Owen spoke, plopping himself into one of the chairs and spinning around. 

"What about Charlie?” You asked, placing your brush bag into the large drawer of your makeup supplies. 

“He’s filming the Perfect Harmony scene with Madi. We’d have the place to ourselves for at least a few hours.” You paused, considering his offer. 

“Okay.” You replied simply. He cheered. 

“Are you ready to go now?” He asked, standing up, and you nodded. He grinned slightly, pulling you in and kissing you softly. 

“Hi, by the way.” He whispered once he pulled away. You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Let’s just go.” 

You somehow managed to make it off set and back to the building where most of the cast and crew were living without anyone noticing the two of you together.

“What floor?” You asked as you hopped into the elevator.

“6.” He replied, and you pressed the button, riding in silence to his floor. He took your hand, pulling you towards the apartment he shared with Charlie, unlocking the front door and dragging you towards the couch.

“So you mentioned a movie?” You said once the two of you were settled. Owen nodded. 

“I did, what do you wanna watch?” He asked. 

“I actually have a better idea.” You grinned, climbing on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Oh I see.” He replied, grabbing your top and pulling you down to kiss you roughly.

It felt like no time had passed at all when suddenly the front door unlocked.

“Fuck.” You said, jumping off him quickly and settling onto the couch next to Owen, pretending as if you’d been there the whole time. Charlie entered the room, frowning slightly when he saw you sat on the couch.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Charlie questioned, throwing his bag onto the chair. 

“I.. Um...” You stumbled. “I was just leaving.” 

You stood up quickly, thankful that the shoes you wore were slip on’s. 

Charlie eyed Owen carefully as the door shut and Owen shrugged.

“Should I ask?” Charlie questioned. Owen shook his head.

“Nope.”

4. Owen’s Bedroom 

After a couple of close calls on set and in the living room, the next time you came over you and Owen went straight to his room.

He laid down on his bed and you climbed on top of him, kissing him instantly.

“God you’re perfect.” He muttered, lips and tongues combining in a mess of passion and lust. Owen pulled at your shirt, tugging it over your head, and you did the same for him. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking gently to leave a mark.

The front door opened and Owen groaned.

“Shit, is that Charlie?” You asked. He nodded. “What do we do?”

“Uh... get in the closet.” He suggested and you giggled, grabbing onto your shirt so Charlie wouldn’t see it if he came in.

“Owen? You here?” Charlie called, and Owen dragged you into the closet, pulling the door shut behind you.

“Shh.” Owen whispered. You tried to hide your smile.

“I didn’t say anything.” You told him, and he rolled his eyes playfully. The door to Owen’s room opened and the two of you froze, bodies pressed together.

“God I hope that’s your phone pressed against my leg.” You whispered after a moment. Owen pulled a face in the darkness. 

“Uh... no.” He replied, and you giggled awkwardly. 

“Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny.” He whined.

“It is funny. We’re trapped in your closet waiting for Charlie to leave and you still manage to be turned on?” You questioned with a giggle

“I can’t help it when someone as attractive as you is pressed up against me. Plus you don’t have a shirt on so...” He trailed off.

“Oh yeah?” You pressed yourself against his body more forcefully. Owen groaned quietly. 

“Fuck, stop it.” He muttered. You smirked. 

“No.” You whispered, and Owen placed his hands on your waist. 

“Y/N...” His voice was low, and just the sound of it sent flutters through your stomach. 

“Owen...” You replied just as quietly. “Before you ask, I’m not gonna fuck you in a closet.” 

“Why not?” He whined. You rolled your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t even have to ask that question.” 

The front door slammed shut and Owen let out a sigh of relief, pushing open the closet door. You stepped past him and made your way over to the bed, Pulling your shirt back on before sitting down to pull your shoes on. 

“Wait where are you going?” He questioned, pouting. 

“Back to set, I have a job to do, remember?” You reminded him, tying your laces on your left shoe before reaching for the right. 

“Can’t you call in sick?” He tried. You raised an eyebrow. 

“From my lunch break?” He shrugged. 

“Food poisoning?” 

“Owen.” You gave him a look and he groaned, flopping onto the bed. 

“Fine. But what am I supposed to do about this?” He motioned towards his crotch. You stood up, grabbing your phone, and walked towards the door, pausing before you exited the room. 

“You have a hand. Use it.” And with that, you left. 

+1. Owen and Charlie’s Kitchen 

It was a day off from filming so you decided to have a lazy day. It was almost lunch time when you woke up, and you would have slept longer if it wasn’t for your phone ringing obnoxiously from its spot on your nightstand. 

You rolled over, grabbing the phone and answered without even checking the caller ID. 

“Hello?” You spoke, voice full of sleep. 

“Good morning, Charlie has gone for a hike, wanna come over?” Owen’s voice came through the phone. 

“Sure, why not. Give me half an hour to have a shower and get changed.” You replied, already climbing out of bed. Owen cheered causing you to smile slightly. 

“Awesome, I’ll see you in half an hour.” He said. “And don’t eat anything.” 

“Okay.” You replied, and before you could even say goodbye he had hung up. You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone back onto the bed and grabbing a simple outfit of a crop t-shirt and shorts out of your wardrobe, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. 

25 minutes later you were knocking on the door of Owen and Charlie’s apartment. The door opened, revealing a shirtless Owen, and you had to stop yourself from checking him out as he let you in. 

“Any reason why I wasn’t allowed to eat?” You questioned, following him down the hall into the kitchen. 

“Because, I thought we could make pancakes together.” He gestured to the pile of ingredients sitting on the counter. 

“How domestic. Didn’t realise we had become a married couple.” You teased, and he blushed slightly. 

“I just thought it would be fun.” He defended, and you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It will be. And delicious.” You agreed.

He grinned, grabbing the ingredients. 

“Let’s get started then.” 

Somehow you found yourself sitting on the counter, eating the batter while Owen cooked the pancakes. 

“There!” Owen exclaimed, flipping the last pancake onto the plate he had gotten out. “All done.” 

He turned to face you, his smile turning into a look of concentration. 

“You have a little something...” He said, positioning himself between your legs. You paused, waiting for him to move. Slowly he lifted his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Much better.” He muttered. The two of you were still, a stand off to see who would make the first move. You leaned in slowly, connecting your lips in a soft kiss.

It was as if the first brush of your lips opened the floodgates. Owen grabbed onto your thighs, dragging you forward, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, the pancakes long forgotten.

You tangled your hands through his hair, moaning slightly when you felt his hands on your ass, and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You were so caught up in each other that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

“Hey Owen, I forgot my-” Charlie’s voice came, stopping abruptly as he took in the scene in front of him.

Owen stepped away from you quickly, but even if Charlie hadn’t seen you kissing, it was obvious what the two of you had been up to.

No one blinked. Finally, Owen broke the silence.

“You were meant to be hiking all day.” He said, somewhat defensively.

“I forgot my phone, so I came back for it. I figured you’d be on the couch where I left you. I didn’t realise you’d be...” He stopped, focusing his attention on you. “Hi Y/N.”

You waved awkwardly.

“So...” Charlie looked between you and Owen. “Am I pretending I didn’t see this, or...” He trailed off. 

You and Owen shared a look before nodding.

“Just for now, at least.” You said, and Charlie nodded.

“Got it. Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Oh, and if you have sex on the kitchen counter please clean it afterwards. I eat off that thing.” He winked at Owen and before either of you could respond he had left the room.

“Sorry about him.” Owen sighed slightly.

“You didn’t know he’d leave his phone. Besides, now we can hang out here together and not have to worry about Charlie walking in on something he doesn’t know about.” You replied, and Owen grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You had just started to find a rhythm in kissing again when a cleared throat broke you apart.

“Dude!” Owen exclaimed, glaring at Charlie who was leaning against the wall, grinning cheekily.

“Just wanted to say goodbye. And warn you that I’ll be back at 3, so make sure any... activities-” He winked suggestively. “Are done by then.”

“Get out.” Owen glared at him. Charlie grinned, turning to leave quickly.

“Bye Y/N!” He called back as he left.

“Bye.” You called, giggling slightly.

Owen rolled his eyes as the front door shut behind Charlie. Focusing his attention back on you he smiled slightly.

“Now where were we?” He questioned, pulling you back in and connecting your lips again.

And if you did end up having sex on the kitchen counter, Charlie would never have to know.