#my breeding kink is VERY specific | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypoisonedvine · 2 years ago

Text

semi-human nature {alpha!aemond targaryen x omega!reader x alpha!daemon targaryen}

{summary} a visit to king's landing goes awry when you go into your first heat— unaware not only that you are an omega, but also that your uncle and stepfather are alphas.

{word count} 6.7k

{warnings} smut (a/b/o standards like heat, breeding, knotting, all that good stuff; kinda dubcon because the reader doesn't totally understand what's happening at first), incest and stepcest (the reader is rhaenyra's daughter making her daemon's stepdaughter and aemond's niece), virginity loss, kinda painful sex/pain kink near the end, threesome, oral m receiving, spitroast, discussions of pregnancy, infidelity (daemon is married to rhaenyra), basically no plot just filthiness

Your visits to King's Landing were far too rare for your tastes. You didn't mind that Dragonstone was your home, it was beautiful there and you and your brothers found plenty to do and see— but you missed the old castle at times, missed the adventure and mystery there. Most of all, you missed your extended family. Though, really, you only missed some very specific members of it.

Firstly, you missed your Aunt Helaena, because she'd always been kind to you and taught you some things when you were a girl— like how to braid hair and how to play her flute (but you were never very good at either). Secondly, and much more, you missed your Uncle Aemond. As cunning and cold as he could be to others, he tended to be sweet with you, as long as you could remember. The older you both got, the more you started to feel more than a friendly, or familial, connection with him— your girlish daydreams sometimes drifted to what it would be like if you married him someday, but you figured that would never happen with the growing animosity between your family and his. Still, when he smiled at you, or when he kissed your head the tender way he did, you couldn't help but hope he felt as you did.

But you loved your family here, of course— your mother was sweet to you, as her only daughter, and your stepfather Daemon loved you as his own. (Some cast a suspicious eye at the two of you, thinking maybe he loved you more than his own… but he was just affectionate, that’s all.)

In fact, he was being characteristically tender with you as you approached King’s Landing, rubbing your arm reassuringly until you smiled up at him. “I’m sure you’re the happiest of any of us to be here,” he told you with a smirk.

“You aren’t happy to see your brother?” you pressed, but he never answered. Your conversation was interrupted by the end of the journey being reached; they were waiting in the courtyard for you, and even though there was a tension in the air between everyone, you couldn’t help but smile shyly at Aemond. He looked back at you, the smallest curl growing on his lips, and your heart fluttered.

For now, you had to behave calmly and politely. But as soon as dinner preparations had begun and everyone had separated to manage individual matters, you ran through the castle to find Aemond in his chambers— and flung yourself into his arms with a squeal of delight.

He hugged you in return, though he tried to soothe you as he laughed softly at your excitement. “It hasn’t been so long, has it, niece?” he asked with a smirk— so smug about the way you clearly had missed him.

“You missed me too, didn’t you?” you sighed, pulling back to look up at his face; he wore the softest smile for you— his one eye sparkled brighter than the sapphire when he looked at you, you swore it, and you were glad you caught him without his patch to hide behind.

“Of course, sweet girl,” he promised. “My— you’ve grown, haven’t you? Weren’t you a little girl last you visited? And now I’ve got a woman in my arms.”

You flushed with warmth in your face and chest when he spoke like that— you felt most like a woman in his arms, anyway, even though your stepfather had commented more than once as well on your development as of late. “You act like I’m so much younger than you, Aemond,” you mumbled shyly. Somehow, you felt most like a woman when he held you; and, even more strangely, most like that little girl he remembered when he looked at you like that.

The embrace was cut short when you felt that dizzy feeling again, your eyes blinking quickly and the heat of your flush growing almost unbearable for a moment. “Are you alright?” he asked, seeing your dazed reaction.

“Y-yes, I’m— this happens,” you mumbled, trying to find your balance again as he stepped forward to keep you from falling. “Fainting spells— w-well, except I don’t faint… I just feel strange.”

He narrowed his eye, looking you up and down. “Strange?”

“Hot,” you whispered, throat a little dry— suddenly you could smell him, and he smelled perfect: it reminded you of snow-covered pine, icy and sturdy just like him. Why couldn’t you smell that before?

He pressed his hand to your forehead, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering. The heat just seemed to spread all over you, and your head spun as your knees went a little weak. “How long has this been going on? Do your parents know?” he asked quickly.

You struggled to keep your thoughts in order enough to answer, a cramp hitting your gut all of a sudden— that had happened before, too, but the episodes never lasted this long before… which was why you hadn’t told your parents, it didn’t seem notable at the time. Now, of course, as pain twisted inside you, you regretted that. “J-just… just a few…” you tried to respond, but then you couldn’t even remember how many days it had been. All you could remember was this moment, and you reached up to clutch at his shoulders. You swore you heard him growl as he pulled you into him, and the noise made a shiver run through your body.

“I think you may be— fuck,” he interrupted himself, and you felt his nose brush against the side of your face as he breathed in deeply beside your neck. You were so soothed by his touch that you didn’t even really consider how bizarre it was that he buried his face there, smelling and tasting your skin. “You’re presenting— poor thing, it hurts, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t know what that meant, but yes, it hurt; you whined as you nodded, making weak fists that tugged on his leather tunic.

“I can help you,” he promised, “I can take that pain away.”

“Uncle,” you whimpered, “please— help me, please, I don’t understand what’s hap—”

“Shh, sweet girl,” he cooed softly, “you’ll be alright— it’s all well, I’m here now… I’ll help you, omega.”

Your eyebrows knitted— you weren’t sure you heard him right… omega? Maybe it was a Valyrian word you hadn’t heard before? You’d always daydreamed during your lessons as a child, and you certainly were less fluent than your uncle Aemond.

“All you have to do is as you’re told,” he instructed. “Do what I say and I’ll take care of you.”

“Please,” you whined again, another cramp in your core hitting— and with it, a heat between your legs that you realised with distant shame was wetness flooding you. He took a deep breath in and groaned, suddenly pulling you with him across the room. You didn’t realise he was taking you to the bed until you felt it under your back.

“I can help you,” he said again, kissing all over your flushed face as you clutched at him desperately. His hands started to slide up under your dress and pet your legs which spread wide for him instinctively, your hips shaking as more slick leaked from your opening. “Your Alpha’s here, my darling…”

Before you could even consider asking what any of this meant— you were so needy, you might just let it all happen regardless— Daemon burst in the room.

“Fuck,” he blurted out when he saw you writhing on the bed while Aemond touched you. “Is she really—? I can smell her from across the courtyard, fuck, so sweet…”

“Leave us, Uncle,” Aemond ordered instantly, “she’s mine.”

“She’s my daughter, I should be the one to help her,” Daemon sneered. He crossed the room and approached the bed as Aemond held you tighter, defensively.

“She’s not your daughter,” Aemond scoffed, “she’s your wife’s bastard— and she’ll be my omega.”

Daemon shoved his nephew off of you with a growl, making you whimper. “Please— please…” was all you could say. You weren’t even sure what that sentence would be if you had the ability to finish: please don’t fight, perhaps, or please touch me.

“I should claim her,” Daemon insisted, descending on you next with a sweet purr. “Don’t you want Papa to help you now?”

You whined in confusion, one hand shakily reaching up to hold onto your stepfather’s shoulder— but the other found Aemond’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “Let her decide,” Aemond decided, knowing you were so affectionate for him— Daemon might agree to that measure, thinking you would choose your stepfather first, if he thought you understood what was being asked of you.

“She can’t decide now,” Daemon hissed, “she’s presenting, she’s delirious— and she doesn’t even know what she is!”

“She doesn’t—?!” Aemond repeated, eyes wide as he looked back and forth between you two. “You never taught her? You never told her—!”

“We didn’t know!” Daemon defended. “We thought— everyone thought Rhaenyra would be an omega, as pure as she is, but she never presented… we just assumed—”

“How deprived you were, niece,” Aemond cooed at you, stroking your arm. “Your mother never taught you about us— about how special our family really is, that you might be—”

“What am I?” you whimpered, shaking, looking up at your uncle with teary eyes. He held your face and pet your cheek gently, but there was a rageful hunger in his eye like you’d never seen.

“You’re mine,” he answered.

“Ours,” Daemon corrected. “She’ll belong to both of us.”

Even though you still barely had any idea what was going on, you knew how dangerous of a proposition that was. Neither your uncle nor stepfather were ones for sharing…

Though he snarled in chagrin, Aemond was nodding as he pulled you into him again. “We’ll both help you, all right?” he prompted you quietly. “Your stepfather and I— we can both help you. You just have to do as you’re told…”

“Please,” you repeated weakly; you were carried to the bed and all but thrown onto it, a moment later feeling Daemon’s hands help undress you right away.

“I want her first,” Aemond informed Daemon firmly.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this, boy?” Daemon snapped, making his nephew laugh coldly.

“What a naughty Papa you are,” he smirked. “Will your wife approve of you fucking her daughter?”

“Wh-what?!” you choked. “What… what will you do to me?”

Daemon growled in the back of his throat as your dress was torn away, and you felt two pairs of hands run all over your bare skin as Aemond pulled you to lay on him. “As your uncle told you,” Daemon answered, “we’ll help you.”

Did they have to be so fucking cryptic all the time?!

“I’m having her first,” Aemond insisted again, “I found her first. You’ll have your turn.”

He helped you to straddle his lap, reaching down to quickly free himself from his trousers with a sigh; your legs were shaking already, and you jolted when you felt him press his cock up to your opening.

“U-Uncle,” you whimpered, “are you— will we really—?”

“Haven’t you wanted this, sweet girl?” Aemond whispered in your ear. “Don’t you want me to fill you?”

Though you whined before you let yourself admit it, you nodded. “Yes,” you choked, “yes— I wanted this.”

Aemond gave his uncle a little smirk, admiring the look on Daemon’s face— some impossible, forbidden mix of a jealous lover and a disapproving father. Apparently, he thought his stepdaughter was more loyal, and wouldn’t fall for her uncle sat so firmly on the other side of political lines. But love is funny like that— especially where Targaryens are involved.

“Call me your Alpha,” Aemond instructed in a low groan by your ear, struggling to resist his instinct to simply take you without any more delay— he’d been fighting his desire the second he first smelled you, not wanting to rush it too much, but both men were overcome with the need to be inside you as you shuddered and whimpered.

“Alpha,” you whispered back, feeling a pull to obey much more than usual when he spoke to you this way. “My Alpha…”

He pulled your hips down, sliding his cock inside you all at once. His head fell back as your hips rested on his; you cried loudly, feeling a sharp stretch— but more than pain, much more, there was pleasure, relief, and satisfaction. You went totally limp in his arms and let him guide you to grind your hips just as he liked; “Fuck,” he panted, “you’re even more perfect than I ever— ah— ever imagined, dear niece— sweet omega…”

“Uncle,” you sobbed, clinging onto him tightly. He was right— the pain had gone, for the most part, now all you had was this need for more… for everything. Even though you were so weak and helpless, you found yourself able to move on top of him, bouncing up and down in his lap to find some more of that impossibly-perfect friction; he watched you with pride and lust in his smile. “Aemond, it feels— oh…”

“It feels right,” he finished for you, “doesn’t it?”

You nodded in agreement, shivering when you realised the fingers ghosting up and down your spine were your stepfather’s. “How does she feel?” he asked in a rough voice that would’ve been terrifying if you didn’t trust him completely.

“Hot,” Aemond answered quickly. “So hot inside— she really is a dragon.”

They both laughed a little, though it wasn’t because it was funny— it was a specific emotion you’d never seen on either of them until now. Daemon leaned in and kissed the back of your neck, making you gasp and whine and lean back into his arms as you kept riding Aemond dutifully; Aemond hissed slightly, digging his fingers into your hips.

“She… she tensed up on me when you kissed her there,” Aemond said with a gasp. “Fuck— I didn’t know she could get any tighter…”

“Beautiful,” Daemon praised you in a mumble against your skin, fingers now exploring more as he lightly tickled your sides and teased your breasts. “Are you being good for him, omega? Taking care of your uncle as you should?”

You gasped and nodded, eyes heavy and wet. “Yes— yes, Papa…”

He hummed deeply, properly groping your chest now as he licked your neck, even nipping at it with his teeth to make you tighten inside again and again. “F-fuck,” Aemond choked, “I won’t— I can’t take much more of that, she’s so— she’s perfect, you can’t imagine how perfect—”

“I don’t have to,” Daemon growled, pulling you off of Aemond who whimpered and begged to have you back— but the older man was well past the limit of his patience, snarling as he positioned you onto your hands and knees. He held your shoulder to keep you steady, hard cock flexing at the way you hung your head in submission and turned just enough to look back at him innocently over your shoulder. He smiled as you as he gripped himself inside his trousers, silently praying for the patience not to tear you open as soon as he could. Yes, you were his omega, and his stepdaughter— his property in more ways than one— but he would prefer not to hurt you, and his instincts were fighting against his logical mind in that regard.

When he exposed himself, he saw you trying to look— trying to see if your Papa’s cock would break you, and he just chuckled slightly to himself.

“You’ll be able to take it,” he promised roughly, “you’re made to take it.”

He lined himself up, knocking your knees further apart with his own before plunging inside with a long sigh. You cried again but pushed back against him, too; your hands still clung weakly onto your uncle, who soothed you and kissed your tears away encouragingly.

“You were right,” Daemon sighed, electing to just hold you still and stay buried as deep as he could go for a moment. “She’s— fuck.”

Aemond took one of your hands from his shoulder and guided it down to his cock, still soaked from your slick; he guided you to stroke it with your shaking fingers, whispering filthy praises in your ear while Daemon fucked you slowly (at first). “You have to take care of both of us,” your uncle reminded you. “Gods, you smell so sweet… I could smell you from across the hall, that’s how I found you— I knew you needed me, needed an Alpha to breed you.”

“I… I don’t understand…” you mumbled, gasping as your stepfather picked up his pace and fucked you more roughly.

“We should tell her now,” Daemon decided. “Well, you should— I’m quite busy already— fuck, so tight…”

“Would you like me to tell you everything, sweet girl?” Aemond asked you, tightening your grip on his cock when you nodded. “Just keep— keep stroking me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “anything…”

“Our family is very special,” Aemond explained to you— which you already knew, but clearly there was more to it than you were taught. “There’s a reason we keep to our own, protect our bloodline: some of us are… gifted. Like your stepfather and I.”

“Like you,” Daemon added, though he was struggling to focus on any conversation as he used you.

“I always knew you were meant for more, my lovely niece,” Aemond cooed, though his nostrils flared for a moment as he moved your hand to wank him faster. “And you are— meant to give us a new branch of the family, purer than any that came before…”

Even with your mind still clouded with desperation, you knew how you were expected to do that. “You’ll— you’ll get me pregnant?” you realised with a shaky gasp.

Aemond nodded, smiling as he kissed your face. “Don’t worry— it won’t be as difficult for you as it was for your mother. She’s not like us, she’s… weaker.”

“They all are,” Daemon added, in defence of his wife. “It’s been generations since an omega was born to us.. even in as pure a family as ours, it’s rare— only your uncle and I are Alphas.”

“It makes you much more fertile,” Aemond continued, “it makes us need to care for you— with our bloodline, there’s a small chance any of us could be like this… but our children, with both their parents being this way, they’ll all be gifted in the same way. Think of the generations we’ll sire, and it all starts tonight…”

Clearly, he was excited by the prospect of keeping you bred for years to come, creating a new line of Targaryens guaranteed with these ‘gifts’ of fertility and instinct… well, you weren’t quite as keen. Even as your body longed for the promise of being impregnated, your mind filled with fear. “I— what if I can’t—?” you started to wonder.

“You will,” Aemond promised, without even knowing what concerned you— because he didn’t have to. “You can do anything, omega, you’ll do anything for your Alphas. It’s your nature; you obey.”

Just as he said it, Daemon thrust especially roughly into you and made you quiver. A pleasure began to build in your gut, heavy and hot, while your stepfather let go of all pretence and fucked you with all the passion and possessiveness he’d been holding back for years. He bent down over you and gave open-mouthed kisses to your back, making you feel small in his grasp and feeling the heat of every moan and sigh spread over your skin. “So perfect,” he said again, “it’s better than anything— you really were made for pleasure, weren’t you, omega?”

“Haven’t you had enough?” Aemond sneered at his uncle. “I think it’s time for my turn again.”

“You can have your turn after I’ve knotted her,” Daemon decided.

Aemond grabbed you angrily, pulling you forward and slipping Daemon’s cock out of you— both of you reacting in disappointment.

“Your knot? Please,” Aemond scoffed, “that could take hours— I need her now.”

“So do I,” Daemon insisted, but Aemond was determined to get inside you again. Breathing through his teeth, he pushed his cock back into you roughly, guiding your hips to make sure he filled you to the very brim. Shivering, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him fuck into you, accepting that it was better to let them do whatever they liked with you and just hope you didn’t get ripped to shreds in their fight over you.

“So beautiful,” Aemond sighed just before he kissed you on the lips— you let your mouth go slack right away, offering it for him to claim as well; his kiss was filthy and hungry and desperate, making you moan and whimper his name helplessly as he fucked you harder and harder.

“Don’t make me watch this,” Daemon pleaded with a whine, easily the most pathetic you’d ever heard him sound. “I need— fuck, she smells so good…”

“You can fuck her again,” Aemond promised, only breaking away from the kiss long enough to speak, “when I’m done.”

“When you’re done?” Daemon realised. “You’re going to knot her, aren’t you? Fucking bastard.”

Of course, the only thing that could make Aemond stop kissing you was a chance to argue with your stepfather. “I wouldn’t speak of bastards if I were you, Uncle,” Aemond taunted. “Let her use her hand on you while you wait.”

“Hand? I have much greater ideas than that,” Daemon informed you both proudly. He moved around from his place behind you, kneeling beside where Aemond laid so he could pull you away from the kiss and push his cock up to your face. “Use your mouth, omega— stick your tongue out for me.”

Doing as you were told, you whimpered slightly as he slid the fat head of his cock over your waiting tongue.

“Good,” he praised, staring down at you and petting your hair soothingly. “You do so well for us both, darling— now close your lips on it. Suckle on it, not too hard— fuck, fuck, how perfect you are…”

“I don’t especially care for your bollocks in my face, Uncle,” Aemond frowned.

“Lean away,” Daemon offered, not exactly sympathetic to the issue when he was so focused on the warmth of your mouth on his cock.

“I can’t! Your knee is on my hair!” Aemond snapped, and Daemon finally moved enough for Aemond to yank his head away with a grimace.

“You see why I keep mine shorter now,” Daemon chuckled.

“I doubt that’s exactly why,” Aemond rolled his eyes, but knowing how perverse his uncle could be, he almost worried that he actually had found himself on the other end of the same issue before.

“My apologies,” Daemon offered in a mumble, but Aemond clearly wasn’t going to hold a grudge— he was moaning again already, holding your hips so he could buck up into you, kissing all along your opposite shoulder while your stepfather pushed his cock deeper into your mouth.

In fact, he kept sliding his thick shaft between your swollen lips until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat, making you gag. You wanted to apologise, but you didn’t for two reasons: one, your mouth was full; two, Daemon only moaned louder, praising you again. In fact, he kept making you gag over and over until a tear ran down your cheek. “Let her breathe,” Aemond ordered, sounding almost hurt with how worried he was for you.

Daemon pulled out of your mouth to let you gasp and sputter, Aemond holding your face and kissing it repeatedly to try to soothe you. “I-I’m alright,” you promised, “let me try again, please, Papa—”

Daemon grinned darkly as he pushed his cock back up to your lips.

“You’re too sweet, omega— you want so much to please your Alphas, I know.”

“Don’t go so hard on her,” Aemond warned, “you know if you hurt her at all, it will be hard not to kill you.”

Daemon was more amused than concerned by the threat, but he knew his nephew was right— not just about the way Alphas would defend their mates instinctively (Daemon understood that instinct firsthand, it was how poor Vaemond met his end), but about the fact that he should be gentler with you. You weren’t one of his whores, you were his sweet daughter and a new omega— you needed to be treated with care. But it was almost impossible to keep calm in a time like this. “You should know how difficult it is to hold myself back,” Daemon sighed, “having to smell her and see her and listen to her— her mouth isn’t enough, I need her cunt.”

"Well, so do I," Aemond countered.

Unfortunately for Aemond, Daemon was stronger— and terribly impatient. He growled and yanked you off of Aemond, throwing you onto your back and roughly filling you again. You gasped, overwhelmed by being thrown back and forth between them, with never enough time for your body to get properly used to one or the other. It certainly felt different looking up at your stepfather as he fucked you, seeing him groan and bare his neck as he moved his hips quickly. "Papa," you gasped, properly accepting for the first time that it was your stepfather— your mother's husband, your great uncle— fucking you now. He smiled down at you, holding himself up by one hand as he touched your face with the other.

"Darling," he whispered, "you knew, didn't you? That I wanted you in this way?"

Honestly, you weren't sure— it all felt like a lifetime ago now; presenting as an omega was disrupting enough to your worldview, being claimed by your uncle and stepfather made it even more sure that this felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

"Daemon, everyone knew," Aemond assured. "You were never subtle."

You wanted to ask if your mother knew— but the pleasure kept you from speaking anything coherent, and the instincts controlling your body kept you from feeling any guilt. Like Aemond said, it just felt so right, so natural that you knew nothing about this could be wrong.

Aemond pulled you into another kiss, laying beside you and touching you anywhere he could reach— starting first with your breasts, which he broke away from your lips to latch onto next. You moaned loudly, feeling terrible sensitive with Aemond's tongue and lips teasing your hardened nipples. "How full these will be…" Aemond whispered reverently against your skin. "All your milk for our babies… you're incredible— our little omega, you'll carry so many beautiful Targaryens in you…"

You whimpered, reaching down to find Aemond's throbbing cock— he hissed as you gripped it, trying to stroke him the same way he'd guided you before. "I— I want to please you, Alpha…"

He groaned and smiled, coming back up to your lips again but holding your face so he could look at you closely. "I know, sweet girl— it's in your nature. You live to serve, don't you, omega?"

Whining slightly, you nodded, and he captured your mouth in another kiss.

The thrusts into you grew faster and more erratic, rocking your body as you gasped. Aemond's hand slipped down over your mound, finding your swollen bud and rubbing it as Daemon fucked you with ruthless intensity. It was too much: it made your back arch and your throat catch.

"Come, omega," Daemon ordered; helpless to his commands, you sucked in a gasp against Aemond's lips and felt another wave of hot slick leak from between your quivering legs. Both men groaned, and you swore you saw Aemond's eye go black as he took a deep inhale of your heady scent in the air.

"So obedient," Aemond observed, "I hadn't even known that omegas could come on command… what a talent."

There was this embarrassing squelching noise coming from where your stepfather drove his cock into you, your arousal coating his and your thighs as he held the back of your knees.

“Fuck!” Daemon grunted suddenly, and you struggled and whimpered as you felt his cock seem to swell— more and more, well past what you thought was possible, until you cried out from the fullness.

“Alpha!” you sobbed, hearing him snarl as he held your hips to keep you from trying to get away.

“Are you—?” Aemond realised, growling with jealousy. “Fuck, you’re breeding your own stepdaughter, you’re unforgivable…”

“It’s— fuck, just wait, nephew,” Daemon promised, still panting as more of his sticky come flooded inside you.

“I can’t wait,” Aemond whimpered, “I need to breed her, you know I need to—”

“It’ll be worth the wait,” Daemon assured, “it’s unlike anything— gods, she’s—”

He never finished any of those sentences, just moaning and continuing to pump his seed into you as he breathed heavily. “What’s happening?” you asked Aemond with a shaky whimper.

“Your Papa is filling you, omega,” he answered, petting your side as you shivered. “One of the ways we’re different— Alphas, we… we have something called a knot. It keeps us inside so you’ll never waste a drop of seed— but only omegas can fit something so large, we have to… make concessions, with other lovers.”

“We can never be… fully inside, when we finish,” Daemon panted, “or we’ll hurt them— could kill them, really. But you, you… you take it so well, omega, you take it perfectly… fuck!”

“I-it hurts, a little,” you admitted, trying not to move so you wouldn’t disturb the soreness inside you. “It’s— how is it so big?”

Daemon smirked proudly, holding onto you just as tightly though he’d finished spilling his seed already. He tilted his head back slightly first as he took deep and fast breaths, only to drop it forward limply as silver strands hung limply around his face.

"Fuck," Daemon sighed again, "I never could've imagined how it would feel… being so deep within you, that sweet cunt keeping my knot warm inside— darling, it's incredible."

He stroked your face approvingly as you sighed.

"You expect me to wait until it's gone down for my turn to feel that?" Aemond sneered.

"You don't have a choice," Daemon laughed, "you'll hurt her if you try to get her off now. You'll just have to find some patience."

The only instinct stronger than the need to breed was to protect you, and so Aemond snarled as he guided your hand to his aching cock once more as he waited his turn. You felt complete relief, for the first time since the headache began, as you felt Daemon's knot inside you. You didn't feel the same as you had before, though: you felt… better? In a sense. You felt complete. You felt accomplished, useful… needed.

Aemond groaned against your skin as he fucked your fist, kissing along your shoulder and collarbone. "Such a good omega— you'll take me next, won't you? You can satisfy us both, yes?"

"Yes, Alpha— anything, I'll do whatever I can," you promised, addicted already to how rewarding it felt to be good for them. They both smiled proudly.

"You used to be so stubborn," Daemon remembered. "So much changes when you present, doesn't it? Believe it or not, I was rather level-headed before I presented as an Alpha."

"I'll go with 'not'," Aemond decided.

Daemon didn’t notice or mind much what Aemond had said, too focused on looking down at where your leaking cunt managed to fit his knot— he was still amazed by it. He’d spent his whole life pulling out enough to keep the knot outside when he came (that is, when he could manage to finish at all), even though at times it took all his willpower to fight that instinct. It felt perfect to be inside you now— perfect in a way he’d never allowed himself to imagine before.

Aemond’s patience was well past worn; he forced your hand to wrap tightly around his aching cock, fucking your hand as he kissed you hard and whined against your lips. “Omega,” he panted, “even your hand is so divine— but I need to be inside you, I need to breed and fill you, please—”

“Not much longer,” Daemon promised, though he was clearly irritated. “It takes time, nephew.”

You could tell Aemond wanted to say something particularly catty in that moment— probably something about how it was impressive that Daemon could keep his knot at all at his age— but only a groan fell from his mouth as you squeezed his cock a little tighter. He guided your hand lower to rub gently over his balls, and you realised how desperate he really was when you felt how swollen they’d become, how tender they were as you barely touched them and he hissed in a breath. “Fuck,” he panted, “all that come will be inside you soon— I know how badly you need it, omega, to be bred by your uncle.”

You whimpered but nodded in agreement, letting him move your hand just how he liked so you could keep his hunger at bay.

As for you, the knot inside you brought you mostly back to reality— but a needy, desperate Alpha beside you kept your omega instincts in control even as some logical thought returned to your mind. That logic made you want to ask them a thousand questions, about what you were and what this all meant and what this would mean for your family… but you couldn’t, because Aemond never stopped kissing you long enough to let you speak. Not that you were exactly fighting to get a word in: you loved the way he kissed you, so you just melted into it and let him go on tasting your mouth while he stroked himself with your hand.

You couldn’t say how long it was before Daemon broke his silence, but however long it was, it went by quickly— for you. For Aemond, it was like a lifetime. “It’s small enough now,” Daemon decided. “You can finally have your turn, nephew— but I know you’ll miss me, little omega, when this pathetic boy is on top of you.”

“Gods, just hurry up,” Aemond choked, and Daemon sighed as he held your hips and unsheathed himself from you. The knot wasn't completely subsided, but it had shrunk significantly— enough for him to hiss as he carefully slid it out. You whimpered as the bulge of it tugged on your sore walls, and made a stinging pain hit your opening as it passed through. But, finally, you were empty… for a split second. Aemond wasted no time getting on top of you and guiding his leaking cock to your hole; he plunged in all at once, making you wince and yelp as you held onto his shoulders, but he ignored the pain he was inflicting and started to move already— he just couldn’t stop himself.

The sting was worth it, though, to hear his loud, satisfied moans; his voice was rougher and deeper than you’d ever heard it, filled with awe as he watched your body take him fully with every thrust. He wasn’t moving very quickly yet— faster than you were ready for, yes, but still savouring the feeling of you for himself.

“I hope she’s not too stretched out from my knot,” Daemon chuckled, obviously not genuine— he hoped his nephew could feel the difference, so he was silently disappointed when Aemond shook his head.

“She feels just as before,” Aemond breathed, “just as tight and warm— just as perfect, fuck, she really was made for this. I would never have taken another woman if I knew this was waiting for me— if I knew I could have an omega to breed someday.”

“I was under the impression you hadn’t taken other women,” Daemon laughed, “you certainly fuck like a virgin.”

“You ramble like a drunk,” Aemond sneered in reply, losing any interest in verbally sparring with his uncle as he started to move just a bit faster inside you. "Beautiful," he sighed as he leaned down, holding you close, kissing your tears away as he fucked your sore cunt as gently as he could manage. "So beautiful, my omega— you take me so well, even when it hurts you… you take your Alpha so well."

His praise made it all worth it, and soon enough the soreness was forgotten— as was his attempting to be careful with you; within a few minutes he was holding you tight and fucking into you ruthlessly, panting beside your face while he slammed his cock into the very end of your insides. Even still, even after hours of your Alphas taking turns with you, your body never stopped leaking slick for them, until Aemond was soaked in your heat— his cock, balls, thighs, even dripping down to the bed beneath you…

“It won’t be much longer now,” he warned. “You’ll be bred— my child in you, sweet girl, is that what you want? All that ache’s going to go away, once you’re good and pregnant, like you were meant to be.”

It sounded like everything you’d ever wanted; it called to your most primal desires and made pleasure course through your veins until your skin was alight with ecstasy. "Please, Alpha!" you sobbed, holding onto him tightly. "I want your knot! I want your baby…"

"Fuck," Aemond gasped, baring his neck to you as he thrusted faster, faster, faster— you were afraid you would go numb inside from the friction, heat building until it all collapsed; you twitched and jolted from the orgasm overtaking you, just as Aemond’s knot began to swell. You felt it, like you had with Daemon: the warm come flooding inside your spent cunt, and your eyes rolled back as you went limp. It hurt to take another knot, yes, but you were too exhausted to even react. You were too exhausted to even think, even though you had much to think about: like the fact that your uncle and stepfather had just claimed and taken you, bred you, both of them fully intending to have you with child soon. They’d have no way to tell whose child it was, would that even matter? Would your mother stay married to Daemon— would either of them, or both, take you as their wife? What would you say when, inevitably, questions arose?

None of those questions seemed to matter now… all you could think of was the man above you and inside you, the perfect expression of relief on his face as his knot kept growing inside you.

"O-oh," he choked, tightening his fist beside your head, "it feels so…"

"I know," Daemon smirked proudly. "It's unlike anything else, isn't it?"

Aemond nodded weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "Omega… our perfect omega…"

Daemon leaned down to join in on the praise, petting your head as you let your heavy eyes fall shut. "You did so well for us both," he whispered to you. "You may rest now— you did beautifully, now rest…"

You weren’t able to drift to sleep until they were both holding you; Aemond still inside and surrounding you while Daemon gently lifted you to cradle you from behind, with his chest to your back. You should’ve felt confused, maybe guilty, maybe even disgusted as you reckoned with what you had done— what had been done to you. Instead, you only felt at peace, safe and satisfied. You were blessed with a gentle and dreamless sleep as your Alphas held you, still whispering to you sometimes— still discussing softly with each other what they would do next. From now on, you could leave the thinking and worrying to them, and just fulfil your natural purpose. It sounded nice, actually: lots of pure Targaryen babies, yours and Aemond’s and Daemon’s children, a strange but beautiful family.

For something you couldn’t have even imagined this morning, it seemed so obvious to you now… obvious, and sort of inevitable. Not that you minded; you were happy to be theirs.

#daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fic

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dimepdf · 2 years ago

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𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓. + 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. the jjk men and their reaction to their partners having a fucking wagon.

pairing. gojo satoru x reader , toji fushinguro x reader , nanami kento x reader

song. juicy — doja cat 🎶

genre and warnings. sfw, suggestive sexual theme, not really gender specific, spanking, body worship, slight possessiveness, jealousy, thigh highs, stockings, leggings, thigh fetish, cuddling, mentions of breeding kink. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

★ GOJO SATORU !

He literally has to grab your ass every day or he will fucking die.

Acts like your ass is another person.

You had to make him stop squatting down just to greet your butt first before greeting you.

He didn't even wait until you two were official to start randomly grabbing at it.

I’m talking DURING THE TALKING STAGE.

The first thing he did was look you up and down when you were first introduced.

He was the type to go, "Where’s my hug?" Trying to get a handful and then try to defend himself by saying that your ass was just too big not to touch.

It gets even worse when you two start dating.

If anything, any ounce of respect and decorum is thrown out the window.

PURPOSELY grab your ass or smack it like it's a normal greeting, even in public. It doesn't matter if you're out with your friends or coworkers.

Since he is a big spender, most of everything he makes goes into your lingerie funds.

You'd gotten into the habit of sitting snuggled on the bed at night, scrolling through Savage X Fenty or Victoria's Secret stores, deciding if their new collection was worth being blessed to fit into. The set that you want could cost an arm and a leg, but he’ll double down and buy it for you.

But in exchange, the moment the package comes, he will literally call you home while you're working just to see you model it right away.

You just have a section in your shared walk-in closet dedicated to expensive lingerie.

is very judgmental about the clothing you wear.

Not in the toxic controlling boyfriend type of way.

More of a "you look so good in that sundress why the hell aren't you wearing it out type of way.

Gojo's favorite pastime is watching you get dressed in the morning, like it has to be a part of his morning routine or he will have the most shit day ever.

Gojo isn't the openly jealous type, but when he gets very irritated at some pure guy having a conversation with you that snags a few glances, Gojo will embarrass the fuck out of you by throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and carrying you away.

★ TOJI FUSHINGURO !

And you thought Gojo was down bad…

The difference between Gojo and Toji is that Toji is more shameless about it.

He'll literally just stare at your ass or thighs while you're in the middle of explaining something to him.

And then when you catch him, he has the audacity to smirk at you as if he hadn’t been eye-fucking you.

He'll on purpose knock things over or ask you to grab something for him just to watch you bend over.

He truly does not give a fuck.

Even in front of poor old Megumi, he will pass by you and give your ass a hard smack.

He's the type to wind his hand back and grab just to feel it recoil in his grasp.

He is a proud ass man through and through.

Sometimes you'd be minding your own business, walking past him, and then suddenly you're sitting in his lap.

He pinches your thighs whenever he’s feeling a little needy.

He squeezes your thighs like their his own personal stress balls.

Toji will hide all your normal socks just to see you squeeze into a pair of thigh-highs.

He swears he’s not clingy but literally falls asleep using your ass as a pillow while you comb your fingers through his hair.

Other than the thigh highs thing he doesn't really care much what you wear.

Mostly just because your ass looks good in everything.

But also because his favorite thing to do is show you off.

Especially if you’re all dolled up in your favorite outfit, he’s literally your number one supporter.

He has scary dog privileges. When you're out and about, no one bothers to even look in your direction with Toji behind you with his resting bitch face.

★ NANAMI KENTO !

When he first met you, he didn’t even notice your body type; he barely even talked to you since you were introduced just minutes before he was about to clock out for the day.

Hearing everyone else whisper and comment about it.

He was very disappointed to notice that your thick ass was the main topic of most of the gossip

but it also made him a little curious as well.

And he had to admit that the first time he took notice, he was caught very off guard.

But unlike everyone else, he’s very lowkey and respectful about it.

But also, Nanami just can’t help but be very open and blunt about his attraction towards you and your ass.

Nanami is a very prompt and serious man, but that all gets thrown out the window the moment he gets home to you.

He doesn't mind PDA but also doesn't lean more into his tendencies while in public since the last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable and also just because he has class.

He’ll make do with the occasional hand resting around your waist or guiding you around with his hand

resting on your lower back just inches away from where he really wants it.

is quick to shut down any perverted or horny comments about your body by anyone else.

But that doesn't mean that he doesn't always disagree with the things that were said.

You're a whole lot of women, and sometimes even he has a little trouble handling allat.

Heard the term child bearing hips from whispers of one of the students, and since hasn’t stopped thinking about putting a baby in you.

You cannot convince me that he doesn't have a stocking or leggings fetish.

What makes you think it's okay to just walk about the house in those see-through leggings and not have Nanami drop all his work just to do something about it?

Sometimes when he's having a shit day at work, he’ll just tuck in between your thighs and unwind.

He could care less about whatever the hell you're wearing

But god forbid you walk out of the house in a pencil skirt that hugs around your thighs perfectly after going a few rounds.

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#jjk smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader

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crimsonbubble · 2 years ago

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Genshin Men NSFW HCs

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, mentions of male submission, edging (alhaitham, dainsleif), degradation (alhaitham, ayato), praise (alhaitham, ayato, kaveh), improper use of ayato's clone, voyeur!ayato, sadomasochism (childe), marking (childe), somnophilia (childe), oral (childe, dainsleif, diluc), bondage (diluc), fingering (diluc, itto, zhongli) slight food play (diluc), creampies/breeding kink (itto, zhongli), hairpulling (dainsleif, diluc, itto, kaveh), dick piercings (itto), mirror sex (kaveh), implied threesome (thoma), dragon!zhongli

[these are purely my personal thoughts so don't get your panties in a twist,, kaeya was originally on here too but i just cant figure out what to write for him :((]

reblogs and comments are appreciated <33

MINORS DNI !!

strict and mean dom

makes up hyper specific rules knowing you'll break them

bc he's a pretty red flag </3

prefers domming but won't oppose to subbing

likes having you chest down ass up just to pin your wrists against your back

prides himself in his control, edging both you and himself

just about teetering the edge of sweet bliss before being pulled away from it

his hands are either of your hips, pushing and molding you to fit between his fingers

or on the back of your thighs to hold you open while he pounds into you

definitely mixed his degradation with praise

a big tease

loves to go agonizingly slow

just to listen to you plead and whine

has definitely used his hydro clone on you

somehow ropes thoma into fucking you

def laughs at the obscene pornographic moans that spill from your both yours and thoma's lips

likes praise and degradation but prefers to reward you to feel how tightly you clench around him

holds your face so gently in comparison to his fast thrusts

has to be kissing you in some way shape or form bc he can't not have his lips on you

if you push his buttons in a very specific way, he'll be putty in your hands

sadomasochist

if you like being choked, having your ass smacked or manhandled

childe will more than happily oblige

as long as you choke and slap him in return

wouldn't mind letting go of the reins and letting you take him how you please

whether you ride him into oblivion or stick your dick in him is up to you

lives to suck dark hickeys into your neck

just watching the deep reds almost purples bloom across your skin has him awestruck

the type to wake you up by going down on you

but he expects to be woken up the same way in return

one of my fav switches with a sub lean

wants to give his all to his partner

just let him take care of you and he'll let you take care of him

is more than happy to please you however you want him to

tries to edge you but ends up edging himself and become far too sensitive far too quickly

big on praise both giving and receiving

just watching his cheeks go red when you praise him on how well he's doing

and him saying all the compliments under the sun as you make him feel good

love having his hands entangled in yours

nothing warms him more than holding onto your hand in moments like these

pleasure dom oml

big on making sure your satisfied

won't actually fuck you until you cum at least twice

either on his mouth or fingers depending on how well you behave

loves to hold your hips and waist

and have your thighs around his hips or on his shoulders

likes when you tug his hair softly

has tried bondage on you at least once using the finest silks he could get

could spend hours on his knees for you just pleasing you

has spilled grape juice on you just to lick it up

my fav himbo and subby switch ♡

LOVES to focus on you and your pleasure before considering him

wrings out at least two or three orgasms on his fingers and tongue alone

something in my horny brain is saying he has a tongue piercing

gets so messy when he pleases you and he loves it

leaves marks and bruises on your hips and thighs from how hard he's holding onto you

def has a dick piercing, probably a prince albert or three row jacobs ladder

loves holding eye contact and makes it his job to make sure your satisfied

hc that he cums a heavy amount so it makes uim perfect for creampies

hmm sensitive horns perfect for gripping and long pretty hair for tugging

service dom bordering submissive

like having a hand in your hair to angle your head down to make you watch as he sinks in and out of your hole

oml fucking you in front of a mirror

praise praise and more praise

soft and slow make out sessions are more common than you think

loves just holding you while you do it

just wrapping his arms around you and moaning into each other's ears

goes sex drunk because you always feel and look so good around him

did I mention praise?

no but seriously he's blubbering absolute nonsense as he ruts into you

submissive top !!

does what ever you please

loves giving but doesn't kind receiving

the prettiest moans and whimpers

love having you ride him, bouncing and circling your hips over his

looks at you with glassy eyes

loves hearing you moan bc he likes knowing how good he's doing

might get ayato involved just for some fun

caresses your face with gentle hands and kisses you so softly

totally thought of fucking you while uou were wearing his jacket

DRAGON!ZHONGLI (sorry I love this hc)

long forked tongue to please you with

big pretty hands to hold and finger you with

breeding kink bc he loves how it feels and looks to fill you up and watch it make a mess of your hole and the bed under you

since he has many forms probably turned into his woman form

you can't tell me he wouldn't go into his woman form just to please you

if he's feeling softer, his touches are gentle and delicate

as if he was handling the finest glaze lily

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago

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real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’.

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late.

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space.

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back.

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume.

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.”

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit.

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #a hyung holiday

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elvisabutler · 2 years ago

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Austin!Elvis x reader - Elvis convinces the reader’s mom to let her stay at Graceland for the whole summer. You can do whatever you want from there.

queen of graceland

summary: your parents don't like elvis one bit. you do like elvis quite a bit. somehow you get your parents to allow you to stay with your boyfriend all summer. the two of you have a plan to make your stay permanent. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley rating: m pairing: austin!elvis ( 50's ) x female reader word count: 5007 ( do i have an explanation? no, no i don't. but welcome to why my requests take a hot minute i guess? ) warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). oral ( f receiving ). breeding kink. mutual weirdly wholesome entrapment. everyone is of age. going against parents' wishes. controlling parents. pregnancy. gladys' death is mentioned at the very end. mentions of elvis's close relationship with his mother. author’s note: first off anon! thank you for this request and saints preserve me i am truly sorry it took so long to get to it and it turned into- well this. so i got this before i did kinktober and blah blah we all know life is hectic around the holidays but once i realized this clearly is happening with an of age reader and all that jazz i had to pick an elvis and while i believe it can be agreed that this prompt lends itself well to a sort of dark ( or innocent tbh ) 70s elvis thing- my brain settled on this interesting 50s elvis mutual entrapment breeding kink thing that was originally a little darker but still has those morally grey tinges. i hope you enjoy anon, i did actually really like this prompt from the moment i got it. special thanks to @blurredcolour for being my 50s elvis woman always and my partners in breeding mrs. presley crime, y'all know who you are. and if you all so desire you can imagine elvis in this. but i did try and stay closer to the movie than i have lately on some of my specifically austin elvis requests as of late.

Your mama hates Elvis, it's a fact you've known since the moment she laid eyes on him when you brought him home. First it was that he wasn't good enough for her daughter, too poor, too stupid and too destined to be in the poor parts of Memphis until he dies. Then it was that he was too vulgar and too free wheeling and he was just gonna hurt you, besides what would he see in the girl he left behind at home. All the things she whispers in your ears aren't true because you know as well as anyone the Elvis is practically obsessed with you to the point of madness. It flatters you and delights you enough to make you want to keep him until the end of both your lives. It makes you want to claim him and keep him as your own, to be at home while he travels the states or to accompany him, whatever he wants and whatever brings you the most pleasure in your life.

These wants are how you found yourself practically begging your mother for permission to spend the summer at Graceland after Elvis has already plead his case. You're nineteen and an adult but you still live under your mama and your daddy's roof so their rules are law. And their main rule is one date every two weeks with you and your boyfriend. The concept of you spending an entire set of months with him is not one they're willing to easily agree to but you promise that no funny business is going to go on and besides, his own mama would rather die than have him do anything untoward to you. Nevermind that she's been pressuring him to put a ring on your finger since she realized that you were fine with how close they were, found it endearing and hoped, God willing that your own son and you would have the same sort of relationship. Granted, you were aware that it was unhealthy and all but- Elvis wasn't ever going to unwind himself from his mama so you dealt with it, you could deal with it and charm her to where she needed to be charmed.

Elvis doesn't waste a minute as soon as he sees you walking up the steps of Graceland, carrying two bags full of clothes you planned on wearing while you were there. He takes them from you despite your valiant protests and sets them down by the door the moment he shuts the front door.

"Can't believe you got her to agree to it." Elvis grins, practically bouncing on his heels. He looks like a kid in a candy store, like you've given him the best present you could have for his birthday, his Christmas, his everything. "Getcha all to myself all summer."

You move closer to him moving your hands to his hips and pulling him in for a kiss that's supposed to be chaste but- you've missed him too much to try, instead allowing your tongue to meet his and your teeth to pull at his lip earning a low moan from him as you pull away. "If you do your job right, it'll be longer than the summer, Elvis. I'll be here every summer. Every winter." You move one of his hands to your stomach. "I'll be here every second you want me and them to be."

His eyes widen just a hair before he rubs at your stomach, picturing you full of him, your stomach swelling with a baby or two he's put there. Picturing you going home to your parents only to be sent back because his child or children are growing inside you. The only thing that keeps him from pulling you inside and fucking you against the nearest surface is the knowledge that his mother and Mary and Grandma Dodger are in the kitchen but he moves closer to you anyway, pulling you inside as he nips at your ear. "That you askin' for a baby, Satnin? Askin' for me to fill ya up before ya go back to your parents? Make them see ya belong wit' me?"

You feel your arousal pool in your undergarments as you clench around air, wishing he was having sex with you already. Wishing you could feel his cock filling you up in just the way you needed. A noise of pure desire- a mix of a coo and a whine- leaves your mouth as you push him against the wall by the door. "That's me beggin' for one, El." Your own accent thickens, brought on only by the desire coursing through you at proving that you belong by Elvis's side.

Elvis looks like he's about to say something, or like he's about to lift you up against the wall- everyone be damned before he hears his mother shouting his name and he growls against your neck, allowing himself to at the very least shove his knee in between your thighs. Gladys comes around the corner, grinning and looking pleased as punch to see you even as you take just a second to grind on her sons' thigh as you smile over his shoulder at her.

"Y/N!" She shouts, starting to walk to toward the pair of you, causing Elvis to move his thigh from between your legs and turn to face his mama. "Bewbie, you were supposed to tell me when she got here!"

Elvis has the decency to look chargined for a moment, burrowing his face into your shoulder like a little boy and mumbling. "Mama- she just got here and I missed her."

"And you think I haven't?" She frowns, lightly slapping his arm and pulling you away from him. If she notices anything about his lower half she doesn't say anything, instead focusing on pulling you in for a hug. "A whole summer with us, oh- I was thinkin' I was gonna have to talk to your mama myself to convince her." She pauses and looks at Elvis. "You'd have thought she thinks my bewbie's gonna ruin you."

Elvis looks over at you as his mother just squeezes you in her hug. His teeth are biting into his lower lip as he tries not to laugh, knowing fully well that had she not interrupted you that he would have been well on his way to ruining you by the front door. Your smile back at him is full of promise and can barely be called a smile, edging more to a smirk than anything else. The idea is for him to ruin you this summer, you are both entirely aware that your parents will never let you be with Elvis as long as they live unless something drastic changes. Unless they're forced to allow him to be with you and while you like to think there's a better option, from the way you and Elvis keep looking at each other you both have come to the same conclusion, there isn't. He's never going to be good enough in your parents' eyes for their baby even if he makes all the money in the world or if he settles down and stops making that rock and roll music. No, he's always going to be that boy they don't like, that boy who'll only ever bring ruin to their baby girl. Even if that's the furthest from what he is, from what he wants to be.

In a perfect world, he likes to think he'd have you after seeing you dressed up all in white, looking a vision from the bible, all virginal and ready for him to explore in ways no one ever had or ever would after him. You'd be underneath him, writhing and panting in the way you do when you both get a little hot and heavy in his Cadalliac but he'd have you bare and so open to him. So open to be able to receive his cum, so open and ready to give him children so that he could see you swollen with him. So that he could see a little blond boy or girl suckling at your chest with you all sweaty after having brought them into the world.

in a perfect world, he likes to think the two of you would have a gaggle of kids after you got married and that he'd take them on the road with him. Get himself a bus like BB where he can just have you and his kids as a little moving sanctuary or maybe just have them at home with you taking care of them. He knows you might wanna work outside the home but he also knows that can wait, he could provide for you both and for anyone else for now. In this world though, in the world you both live in he has to find a way to even have you for longer than a summer and drastic situations call for drastic measures. The pair of you are so busy looking at each other that neither one of you are really paying attention to Gladys when she pulls away and says something to the both of you only to shake her head at how little you're both paying attention.

"Ignoring me because you can't take your eyes off each other-" She sighs a little, clutching her chest at the image. "I'll leave you two be, Elvis go take her things up to her room, show her what we set up for her."

You raise an eyebrow as she leaves and within a minute you're up against Elvis, grabbing both of your bags for him to take from you. "My room." You pause and giggle softly. "You mean the room that's just going to have my clothes in it?"

Elvis has to shut his eyes for a moment as he shakes his head, exhaling softly. "Darlin'- if you're lucky your clothes are gonna be there. I plan on havin' ya everywhere in my damn house."

A gasp leaves your mouth as he takes the bags and starts to walk up the stairs. "Everywhere in the house, El- what about everyone else."

He's silent as you head up the stairs and doesn't bother to answer your question until you're both safely in your room. The bed is simple enough, large enough for you and Elvis to be on it together easily and the room is surprisingly simple in decoration. Gladys' influence, you figure. The bags hit the floor with a thump as suddenly you find yourself being walked back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you let out a huff of surprise before flopping on the bed. Elvis doesn't miss a beat as he crawls on top of you, his eyes heady with desire.

"Satnin, darlin' they ain't here all the time." He starts before kissing at your neck, his hands moving to undo the buttons of your blouse with surprising ease. "And if you want to leave here with my baby in you, we gotta make sure there's enough of me in there. Gotta make sure you're full of me. Gotta make sure it stays and catches, like they all say it does."

A shiver goes through you at his words, your hands moving to undo his belt and pants, some sort of primal need overcoming your desire to say anything else. He's right and you know this. You know that there's no guarantee you'd get pregnant on the first try, that practice makes perfect and it wouldn't hurt to have him fill you up with his- release as much as he can. Yet, hearing the words come out of Elvis's mouth, hearing how he's going to fill you up has your body on edge, has it craving what he's offering. You faintly hear a chuckle as you struggle with the button to his pants and feel his warm hands- always so large- over your own, assisting you before you triumphantly achieve your goal. Your hand slips into his underwear, finding its way to his cock easily, feeling his foreskin and how dry it is before you pull his cock out. Elvis grabs your hand and spits into it, knowing that sometimes you forget to spit, forget that while his precum helps, the beginning part, this part depends on a little extra liquid.

"Don't hold back, darlin'." He mutters, seeing your lower lip caught between your teeth. "Gonna make you mine, wanna hear how you love it. How you would have sounded if we could do this proper with a wedding an' everythin'."

If you're embarrassed at the whimper, it doesn't show, the arousal starting to seep out of you becoming unbearable as your chest heaves just a tad. Elvis watches your breasts still in your bra bounce that little bit as your chest heaves and tries to focus on anything but your hand wrapping around his cock as you move your hand up and down for a moment before starting to pull back his foreskin. He hisses the second your thumb brushes against his tip. His precum makes it glide easily but- it's too much, he wants to be in you, doesn't want to waste a single drop down your throat or your hand or anywhere. Somehow his hand makes it down to your skirt, pushing it down with an ease he'll explain away later as just dumb luck. He knows fully well it's come from the few times he's had someone on the tours but he loves you- has loved you from the moment you agreed to date him but he was lonely. Somehow your underwear comes with the skirt and you find yourself shivering at the cold air against your pussy. Elvis looks down, his fingers sliding between your folds, marveling at just how wet you are for him. A growl leaves him unbidden as he moves to shoo your hand away from his cock and lines himself up with your exposed pussy, allowing himself to put just the tip in, feeling you stretch around him. He knows he should wait, knows that you've stretched yourself as much as you can playing with yourself over the phone while he pumps his cock in empty hotel rooms, but it's nothing compared to his cock inside of you.

His eyes dart across your face, asking for permission to push in farther and you nod just barely, your eyes shutting as you feel the burn of his cock in you. It's a uncomfortable but you manage, breathing through your nose as he takes his time. You figure this has to be torture for him, after all you had felt how hard he was, saw how red the head of his cock looked but he's still being gentle. He's still putting your needs so far above his own. This is what your mama doesn't see- the man who treats you like a goddess when he's fucking you for the first time. You roll your hips up, earning a groan from him as he increases his speed, taking your actions to mean he can. Whimpers and small tiny moans escape your lips, providing a small symphony of noise around you both as Elvis's lips smack against yours and against your skin and as your skin meets over and over again as his hips rut against you. Your brain floats the more you feel him, the more you feel a coil deep inside of you tightening, feel yourself inching closer to the edge. Your hands move to his back, pulling him closer into you before you hear him curse, and feel his hips rut a few times in quick succession before feeling a warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows soon after, the moan that escapes your lips being swallowed by Elvis's kiss so as to not arouse suspicion of what you've done up here. Elvis stays on top of you, keeping his cock inside you even as he catches his breath and his hips still pump ever so slowly into you. Your ears faintly register a faint squelching noise as he does and you find that you can't look Elvis in the eyes, the noise somehow reminding you that this is an inherently filthy act. A moment passes of still hearing the noise before your vagina inadvertently clenches around him, earning a low growl and a biting kiss from Elvis.

It was like you were trying to suck him into you, trying to make sure no part of his cum or him would be free of you. You don't intend for it to be that way and yet it's how it goes, allowing you to hold him close as you both continue to catch your breath. The amount of time that passes isn't something either one of you pay attention to before Elvis starts to pull out, earning a whine from both of you as he does.

"Got me in a vice grip, Satnin. Gotta let me go, mama was cooking with everyone- gotta make sure we keep up our strength." He murmurs, kissing your cheeks, your lips and down your neck to your chest. "Gonna have fun tonight- play with those breasts of yours. Show ya how our baby is gonna eat from ya."

A low keen escapes your lips as you push him off of you, knowing that the way he's talking is going to have you pulling him back on top of you, ruining any hope you have of getting to stay the rest of the summer. Gladys may want you here but she doesn't know what her son and you have planned, how right she is about him ruining you. How with any luck, you'll be leaving with a baby in your belly that will round out your form and have your parents forcing him to marry you. A simple entrapment scheme- but one you and Elvis are privy to while either set of parents aren't.

It takes a moment before you and Elvis are put together and you hear Gladys calling for both of you as you're both smoothing out each other's hair, making sure it's just mussed and not completely giving away how fucked out you are. That it's not giving away how you feel his cum leaking out of you enough that you want to push it back in but know that it can wait. This time it doesn't need to take. Besides, if it did- why you think you'd be leaving with an already there bump, and that won't quite do. Elvis kisses you one more time, gently before grabbing your hand. "Come on darlin', gonna show ya how it's gonna be when you're here forever."

True to his word, Elvis does manage to fuck you in just about every place in the house, except for the few rooms that are off limits. Sure, the Colonel comes and has to have meetings and Elvis has to leave one week to record some music but otherwise, he's by your side unable to keep his hands off of you. Unable to keep himself from being in you the moment he can, there's even a moment while you're out on the porch with you in his lap and your skirt billowing around the two of you as he fucks you while watching the sunset. Your period doesn't come the last month you're there, and Elvis finds that any time he touches your breasts you hiss, swatting his hands away. He doesn't dare put into words what he's thinking, what you're both thinking until the hot sticky August day you have to leave. You're waiting for your father to come pick you up, sitting in the living room and Elvis finds his hand moving to your stomach, rubbing it, trying to feel out a bump he's praying he'll get to see soon.

"Ya think it took this time, darlin'? Think they're growing in there?" He murmurs giving you a soft kiss as he does. "It's out last shot, don't think ya parents are gonna let ya come back if they aren't."

One of your hands moves to cup Elvis's cheek while you place the other on top of his hand that's on your stomach. "I'm not gonna think about it that way, don't wanna talk 'bout it and then something happens. Have a little faith, El. You know I want this as much as you."

He nods exhaling shakily. "I-I know, just don't wanna think of a world where I don't get to keep ya. Where they keep ya away for good this time, ya- ya know I gotta do one of those tours soon and I wanna be able to take ya to see some places, baby."

Your lips quirk into a smile. "And you will. Faith, baby. Faith." A honk interrupts whatever you're planning on saying next and Elvis pulls away slowly, his hand reaching out to pull you up from the couch as he kisses you goodbye. "Make 'em send you back as soon as ya know, lil one. Please."

The only answer you give him is a nod as you rush out the door, carrying your bags and cooing a loud hello to your daddy.

Elvis- Elvis doesn't see you for another two months. Not intentionally on your part, mind you, but more due to the fact that your mother sees the signs and hopes and prays she's wrong. Prays that her fears won't be confirmed, that after she let herself be charmed by you and that stupid young man that he's ruined you. You've always stayed the same size, always been able to not need your skirts or your shirts changed since your waist and your chest settled into what they are. Yet, here you are, slowly filling out, your breasts pushing at the buttons of your blouses and your stomach starting to bloat. She thinks it's just your period only to realize it's not when you don't come to her as you would normally like clockwork. You're eating everything she puts in front of you and she swears on more than one occasion she hears you retching in the bathroom in the early evening hours.

It all comes to a head one afternoon with you on the couch, your hands settling on your stomach, highlighting a bump that's starting to form, that's beginning to be more pronounced by the day- that has her seeing red in her mind's eye. Her question is brusque and to the point.

"When was your last period?" She pauses. "Don't lie to me, Y/N."

In another time and place, one where you aren't secure in the knowledge that you're carrying Elvis's baby, you'd look away when you answer, too mortified to admit that Elvis got you pregnant because you wanted him to. In this time and this place, you press a little harder into your stomach, trying to protect your baby from your mother, lest she do something awful. "Three months ago. Maybe almost four, I lost count, mama."

All hell breaks loose after that, with your mama screaming and telling your father and calls to Graceland where you can hear Gladys calling Elvis's name sounding more angry than you've ever heard her. Throughout it all- despite it all, you're in your room smiling, talking to your stomach telling the baby that's growing in there that they're gonna meet their daddy finally. A week after you find yourself being driven to graceland in a coat to keep yourself warm in the cool weather while also hiding what's underneath from the fans gathered outside the gates. Your daddy leaves as soon as he sets your luggage down next to you, muttering about how he always knew that boy would ruin you and now he's gonna be stuck with him as a son in law.

The door opens to reveal Elvis looking like he's going to curse someone out before he realizes it's you. No words are exchanged as you open up your coat carefully and grab Elvis's hand to press against your bump. You're wearing a tighter blouse than normal to highlight it, and Elvis starts to breathe a little heavier taking note of just how much you've started to change in the months since he's seen you. He pulls you inside, grabbing the bags with a speed you marvel at before he pulls your coat off and takes a proper look at you.

You breathe slowly and Elvis swears he sees one of the buttons on your blouse look as if it's going to pop off before you smile ever so sweetly at him. "Mama hasn't let me get new clothes and- I wanted you to see what you've done to me." You lean forward, your lips brushing against his ear. "How you've ruined your sweet girl. Would have waited a little longer but I wanted you to see me grow."

His only answer in reply is lifting you up with a surprising bit of strength onto the dining room table, laying you out on it with your legs dangling at the edge, his head moving under your skirt. You can barely hear what he's saying as he kisses up your thighs but what you catch has you shivering in delight. "Made you better. Gave you my baby. Made it so your mama had to let you go. Get to stay with me. Be my girl, be my queen of Graceland."

You try and push him away, your brain reminding you that there's people in the house and you can hear cooking happening in the kitchen but your attempts are forgotten at the first brush of his tongue against your slit and the brush of his nose against your clit. He licks at you like a starving man, his tongue fucking your pussy like a pale imitation of his cock as his fingers play with your clit, rubbing and touching and even pinching in the way he's learned you enjoy. You bite your lip, whimpering even as you do, trying to keep quiet so that no one realizes just what Elvis is doing to you even as you barrel quick enough to your orgasm that it shocks you with the sheer force and speed it comes at you.

Gladys voice rings out as your chest is heaving and Elvis finds his way out from under your skirt, his face glistening as the door to the kitchen swings open. His mama sees you on the table and looks to her son, her eyes narrowing just a hair before she shakes her head. "Bewbie, you're- we gotta get you two married before you do anything else." Her face flushes just a little. "Off the table, Y/N. Let me see you and my little grandbaby you got growing here."

Her hands move to your stomach, feeling around like she's looking for something before her lips curl into a sad little smile. There's a moment where she looks like she's going to lean in to tell you what she's thinking before she stops herself and just pulls you into a hug. "I'm- We're gonna take good care of you here. Gonna make sure you and this baby have all the strength you need. I told Bewbie to marry you but- didn't think you'd both be so silly to do this to make it happen. It's alright- what's done is done and now we have this to celebrate."

And so life goes until everything comes crashing down with the papers and the Steve Allen show and Russwood- it all culminates in you seven or eight months pregnant, wishing you could drink as heavily as Gladys is when you hear your husband is getting shipped off to Germany. You promise to take care of his mama and promise to call him the minute you go into labor so that he doesn't miss seeing his baby born while in training. Yet, you find that you fail the first one so miserably when you come across Gladys on the stairs, slumped over, forcing you to call Vernon to help you with her. Not even the movement of the baby within you is able to rouse Elvis from his tears until the Colonel says something to him. You're hidden away from the cameras at Elvis's request. People know he's married, know that you are due to give birth any day now but beyond what everyone's already seen, he doesn't want anyone to see you, not right this moment, not when everything feels so raw and he's got to protect his only girl left- his queen of Graceland.

It's the day before he goes back to finish training when you feel the pain- when you feel your back and stomach twist and you moan in the bed, clutching at your stomach like that will help. This would be so much easier if Gladys was there, she could coach you through this. Elvis forces his way into the room, too scared to be away from the only Satnin he has left, too scared he'll lose you too if he lets you out of his sight. When you push out your first and it still feels like there's another in there- you realize just what Gladys had held back this whole time, too superstitious to even whisper to you that she figured you were too big for just one baby.

You name them Elizabeth and Loretta and Elvis promises to find a way to have you all brought to Germany with him. It takes a year but when you finally do see him again- when you finally both see each other again? You make a vow to stick to each other like glue if only because you're both so tired of being separated when there's no reason to be, no matter what the Colonel would like to argue.

And if perhaps your number of children shows that level of togetherness? Well. You can't very well be a queen without plenty of heirs, now can you?

tag list: @eliseinmemphis, @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @aconflagrationofmyown and @butlersxbirdy, @lindszeppelin, @powerofelvis @floralcyanide seriously i never know who to tag in this and breeding kink is so iffy i apologize y'all and hey once again if you all want to be on my tag list ( in general, tbh ) just give me a heads up or a holler.

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hellfirexclub · 2 years ago

Text

Eternally

a/n: Omg so I'm really excited for this fic and ac loved writing it, I've been too obsessed with Aemond since hotd came out to not write about him. This is the first non ST things on my blog so sorry to the people that only follow me for that but I hope you like this either way!

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader.

warnings: 18+, smut, mutual pining, missionary, oral (m giving), creampie, choking, fingering, breeding kink if u squint.

Summary: You are a handmaiden to Queen Helaena that Aemond is secretly in love with. Little does he know you feel the exact same way about him. Shameless smut! Technically a one shot but I left it open bc I always do oops.

Aemond had never been a man to care about such trivial things as romance. Once he did, back when he was a child and he was filled with innocence about what his life would become, but he’d never admit that to himself now. When Aegon and Helaena were betrothed Aemond wished that his mother would also find a wife for him, someone he could love truly and dedicate himself to. Then came the night that changed the trajectory of his life, the night he lost his eye. While before he’d imagined that maybe one day a woman would love him, after the accident he became bitter and disgusted by his own appearance, convinced that no one would ever want him now. This was only reinforced by the memory of the maester’s hushed voice in his chambers after the accident, saying to his mother that his face was ruined for marriage now as he pretended to sleep. He sees the way the girls in court sneer at his eyepatch or the fear that some of them look at him with. Whatever they felt, it was never kind towards him. So he dove into his studies and into training to fight, telling himself and everyone around him that he didn’t care about any other trivialities. And he was true to this for a very long while, until he met you. Aemond didn’t care for any of the servants, they were below him and so why should he bother to even acknowledge them? How he could be so wrong. He vividly remembers the first time he ever saw you, about a month before his siblings were to have their first child. Alicent had arranged for a new handmaiden for Helaena specifically to help look after her children, and you had gratefully accepted the job. That same evening you’d arrived you were made to help the heavily pregnant princess to the dinner table with her family, and when Aemond saw you walk in beside his sister he almost dropped his cup of wine. Your beauty was absolutely mesmerising, unlike any other woman he’d lain eyes on before, even with your hair unkempt and the serving girl’s robes adorning your body. How could such a divine creature be a lowborn servant, he thought, you looked as though you belonged in a gown with jewels. He didn’t take his eye off you the entire night, studying the way your body moved and the delicate features of your face, your nerves very apparent on it. You’d kept your head down most of the night, not looking at anyone besides his sister out of respect, but there came a moment when you accidentally looked up and directly met Aemond’s eye. You didn’t grimace nor sneer at his features, you looked into his eye boldly and without fear, a small, kind smile playing on your lips before you remember yourself and look back down to your hands. And if Aemond thought he was hooked on you before, now he was obsessed. No woman had looked at him like that since he lost his eye, hell he doesn’t remember a woman looking at him so kindly even before he lost it. His heart beat heavy in his chest, a longing filling his body that makes him down the rest of his cup of wine and slam it back down in asks for another. Much to his dismay he noticed that his brother was also taken by the sight of you, his drunken eyes roaming your body greedily, and that filled Aemond with a hatred and unease. He swore to himself that night that he wouldn’t let you end up like all the other handmaidens in the castle, fucked like a whore by Aegon and then dumped as though you’re nothing.

Helaena became fond of you very quickly and didn’t care that you were just a servant to her house. She trusted you and took solace in your company considering so few would ever care to listen to her ramblings. You would sit beside her bed and listen to her dreams happily, even sharing your thoughts and ideas on them with her. You listened to her genuinely and cared for her, and to her that makes you a true friend no matter your status. Aemond too noticed the way you cared for his sister and in his eyes it only made you more perfect. Such a kind and beautiful soul. Aemond’s affections for you only grew as the years passed and he found himself in his sisters company more often just so he could spend time with you as well. It also meant he could keep his brothers prying hands away from you, as Aegon had made it clear with his looks that he was interested in you. It was his actions this very evening that started everything, when he dared to touch you whilst you poured some wine for his wife, his hand discreetly slipping from your lower back to your ass, but of course Aemond had noticed. You looked extremely uncomfortable and it made Aemond want to leap across the table and take his brothers head then and there. You quickly scurried away when you were dismissed, and after everyone had left the table Aemond sought out his brother for a private ‘chat.’ He ambushed Aegon in a dark corridor as he walked to his chambers, slamming his brother forcefully into the wall and holding his blade to his throat.

“If you try and touch y/n again you will find this dagger cutting through your neck, brother.” Aemond snarls, eyes hardened as he keeps his face inches from his older brothers.

At first Aegon was taken back by his younger brother’s uncharacteristic outburst of emotion, he’d never given a fuck about his activities before. But as he looks into the burning eye of his brother, it becomes very clear why he was actually intervening with his behaviour this time.

“Ah I see how it is, brother.” Aegon tells him, a smirk playing on his lips as Aemond’s jaw tightens. His eyes twinkle with twisted delight at the telling face of his brother, snickering as Aemond pushes him harder against the wall, rock scratching against his back despite the layer between them.

“Swear to me you’ll leave her alone.” Aemond pushes, wanting conviction that his brother will do as he asks.

“It’s very presumptuous of you to make demands of a King,” Aegon spits back, chest pushing up against Aemond’s as he tries to shove his brother away. Aemond’s grip is strong and he keeps Aegon against the wall, the dagger pressing against his neck in their motions and spilling a small drop of blood. Aegon grimaces before sighing sourly and looking into his brother’s eye. “I’ll leave your little bitch alone.” He spits, his hand coming up to rub his neck when his brother releases him and steps back. Aemond glares at him a moment more before striding away, leaving his brother to stew in his anger. He makes his way straight to Helaena’s chambers, hoping to find you there.

Aemond nods to the guard as he arrives, pushing the heavy doors open and gracefully shutting them behind him. As he’d hoped you were here with his sister, folding her towels as she spoke to you.

“Hello dearest brother,” Helaena calls out to him softly. “Where did you go to with such haste after dinner?” She asks curiously, remembering watching him thunder down the hall as she’d gone to retire to bed.

“Just some business I had to attend to. It’s dealt with now” He says briskly, his eye on you as you smile sweetly at him.

“I see,” She replies simply, a small smile on her lips as she turns back to you. “Is my bath drawn y/n?” She asks you, placing one of her soft hands on your shoulder.

“Yes my Lady, shall I escort you in?” You ask her politely. Helaena only raises her palm at you with a kind smile.

“That’s alright thank you, I shall see myself in,” She says, eyes twinkling as she nods at you and then her brother before making way towards her bathroom, muttering quietly as she left. “Fealty’s sworn cannot be unbroken, no matter how tightly bound the string of fate.” Once Helaena had shut the doors behind her Aemond approached you, trying to choose his next words carefully.

“I wanted to see to it personally that you were alright after dinner today” He tells you, as you look up at him with round eyes. He doesn’t specify what he means but you know instantly what he’s talking about, and your heart warms that he’d even taken notice.

“That’s very kind of you my Prince but I am just fine.” You respond with an appreciative smile, though Aemond knows you only feel obliged to say that to him. You were always so prim and proper, not wanting to get into trouble by saying the wrong thing.

“Whatever the case, I had a word with my brother and I believe he will be leaving you alone from now” He says assuringly, a softness in his uncovered eye as it looks sincerely into yours. Your eyes light up at his words, taken aback that the Prince himself would have taken such action for you, and against his King brother no less.

“Thank you Aemond,” You say softly. “My Prince.” You quickly add with a low bow, not allowing yourself to address him with such informality just because you could barely think over your heart beating so loudly in your chest. The Prince’s own heart softens at you using his name informally even if just for a moment. It sounded like a choir of angels to him, and you both smiled at each other dreamily until you were pulled from this moment by the shrill calls of your name from another maid. You curtesy respectfully towards Aemond, nodding at him before you scurry out of the room to see what was needed of you now. Aemond’s heart aches as he watches you go, your thin gown and long hair flowing angelically behind you. It’s not right, he thinks, that you aren’t sworn to him so that no cunt could ever call you away from his presence. If he took you as his wife he would never let a moment go by that you weren’t by his side. He sighs heavily at this impossible desire, mouth pinched as he curses the circumstances. He had half a mind to go to his mother now and demand she let him marry you, threaten to abscond if she didn’t allow it, hell he’d put a knife to her throat too if it meant securing you. But Aemond was too clever for such approaches, not to mention there was nothing he could say to ever get someone to agree to this. He was a Prince, who was due to marry whomever his family saw fit to secure alliances for their cause. Under no circumstance ever could he be allowed to actually marry you, unless the two of you really did run away. Aemond wonders if that would be so bad. His idiot brother got to sit the Iron throne as King despite Aemond being the better fit, simply because of the circumstance of their ages. It seems royal life would never be fair to him, so why should he wait around for them all to decide his life for him? Aemond makes his way back to his own chambers, needing some time to himself with his thoughts. He oft liked to read, take his mind away from the bustle of life at King’s landing, particularly now they were on the verge of war. But tonight his mind just would not calm, thoughts of you plaguing him until he forced himself up from his table with a sigh. He opened his door a crack, making his guard jump as he stood to attention to listen to Aemond’s demands.

“Will you send for y/n, Sir Derric? With urgency.” Aemond asks his guard, looking at him intently with his one cold eye.

“Would you not prefer I call for your own handmaiden my Prince?” The Knight asks hesitantly, instantly regretting his words when he sees the venomous anger that takes over the boy’s features.

“If I did, I’d have asked for that, wouldn’t I? But instead you think to question the demands of a Prince.” Aemond says dangerously, knowing this will scare the man to do as he asks with no further questions.

“I’ll go find her right away my Prince.” Sir Derric responds quickly, bowing apologetically to his Prince before running off swiftly. Aemond smirks to himself as he strides back to his bed to await your arrival. Only a few minutes pass until he hears voices outside of his door, Sir Derric swinging it open to announce your arrival. You looked happy, but a little bit surprised that Aemond had asked for you specifically to come. You bow to him as you enter before standing up straight and smiling widely at him, your eyes twinkling with joy as you await Aemond’s words.

“Sorry to have asked you here so late, my own handmaiden appears to be otherwise occupied” Aemond lies, circling his bed to stand before you.

“It’s no bother at all, I’m always happy to serve you my Prince.” You respond with a sweet smile. Aemond swallows at your choice of words, wishing he could ask you to serve him as he truly wanted.

“Would you mind helping me undress?” Aemond asks, raising his arms expectantly. His words instantly make heat rise to your neck, your heart beating faster as you oblige and approach the taller man.

“Of course.” You respond softly, reaching up his broad chest to unbuckle the clasps on his tunic. It occurs to you as his hot breath fans over your face that you’ve never been this close to the Prince before, and you can feel your heart pounding loudly in your chest as your hands move across his chest to pull the tunic from his body. You can feel his eye on you as you continue with his undershirt, watching the way your breath catches when you slip it over his head and your hands graze his bare chest. He hums in amusement, a low grunt of a sound that makes your knees weak. You avoid Aemond’s heated gaze, sure that if you met it you wouldn’t be able to hide how you felt any longer. You quickly replace his top with a loose, white bedshirt, exhaling through your nose as run your hands over his chest, smoothing the clothing into place. Finally you knelt before him to take off his boots, as Aemond usually just wore his day breeches to bed, removing them delicately as his eye burns to memory the sight of you on your knees before him.

“Thank you.” Aemond speaks to you, daring you to meet his gaze. He knows you wouldn’t risk the disrespect of not doing so, and he needs to see if your eyes burn for him the ways his do for you. You raise your head to meet his eye and it studies your face, noting the hazy look on your features and the indent in your lip from where you’d been biting into it. Was this his doing?

“It’s my pleasure Aemond.” You say, more breathlessly than you’d have liked, standing to attention and curtseying slightly to the taller male. Aemond’s heart rate picks up more at your response, wondering if that slip of his name was because he’d had an effect on you. Stubborn as always Aemond bitterly shakes the notion out of his head, having forgotten himself and the fact that no woman could love the beast he is. His chest tightens as he looks over at you, now bent over and retrieving his worn clothes into a woven basket. Such divinity could never want his touch. Aemond climbs into bed with a sigh, still watching you fondly as you scuttle about his room.

“Would you fetch me the book on my table?” He calls out to you. You quickly oblige and hand the book to the Prince, standing patiently at his bedside as he flicks it open, intent on finding the page he was last on.

“Do you want me to remove your eyepatch as well before I go, my Prince?” You ask him politely, your brows raising slightly when you see his eye widen at you in shock. It was a simple question, but it had taken Aemond aback because he’d never been asked it before. He’d never encountered someone who wasn’t scared to see the scar that lay beneath it.

“I-uh. That won’t be necessary.” He responds, heart thumping in his chest at the stutter he’d let out. Aemond didn’t often like to show such vulnerability, but it feels like you just draw it out of him.

“Surely it’s not comfortable to sleep with my Prince?” You continue, genuine concern for him in your voice.

“I don’t sleep in it,” He answers with an amused chuckle. “I just usually take it off myself, as other people tend to find the sight too frightening.” He says, his words laced with solemn. Your heart aches to hear this, angry at everyone that had contributed to him feeling this way.

“Well I’m not frightened.” You say firmly, shocking both yourself and Aemond, your eyes soft as you smile at the boy. Aemond’s heart races at your boldness, at the unwavering gaze you held on him. He could see nothing but sincerity in your eyes.

“Are you sure, little one?” He asks teasingly, breath bated as you nod with certainty back at him. With that he motions towards his eye, giving you his permission to take it off of him. You slowly raise your hands to his gorgeous face, your own face dangerously close to his as you carefully pull the eyepatch from his head. Aemond holds his breath as your eyes fall upon his, your mouth opening in awe as you catch sight of the glistening blue jewel that lies in place of his lost eye.

“Beautiful,” You whisper softly as you inspect the gem, making Aemond’s heart leap from his chest. “May I…?” You begin to ask, but trail off nervously when you realise that you may be overstepping. But Aemond quickly nods at you, too touch starved to care if he seemed desperate. He lets out a breathy sigh when your delicate finger meets his scar, his chest filling with nervous warmth as you softly trace the detail on his cheek. Aemond melts into your touch, too long starved of any affection like this, shivering in pleasure as your finger gently runs over his Sapphire. Aemond decides as you stare at his face in awe that he doesn’t care about formality anymore, about what to say and what not to. Certainly not that you’re just a servant girl. Right now all that existed to him was you before him, seeing him as he is and calling him… beautiful.

“Do you mean that?” Aemond asks, voice strained as his eye burns into yours for an answer. You shyly bite your lip, afraid of saying too much and getting yourself in trouble. But this position you were already in with the Prince had crossed boundaries, fuck if you didn’t just tell him the truth.

“If I may be so bold, my Prince, I think you’re a very handsome man, and no scar could ever detract from that.” You reply softly, eyes burning with pure desire for the man in front of you. This was all Aemond needed to hear for his heart to skip a beat, his cheeks flushing as you continue to gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. You thought, despite what others think of him, despite what he’s told himself for the last 10 years of his life, that he was handsome. Aemond feels a rush of confidence from your words, heart racing wildly as he raises a hand to cup your cheek, making your eyes widen in surprise. Your own heart begins to beat faster as Aemond stares at your lips silently, panting as he slowly closes the gap between your faces, unable to hold himself back any longer. Aemond pulls you into a desperate, hungry kiss and finally everything felt right in the world, your soft lips lighting a fire in his stomach. Aemond groans into your mouth as you kiss him back just as hungrily, gasping when he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap in the bed. You moan against his lips as you feel his length in his loose breeches, already hard and straining against you, subconsciously beginning to grind against him. Aemond hisses, throwing his head back in pure pleasure as he feels your warm pussy rub against him through the thin fabric, his hands finding your ass and grabbing roughly to pull you flush against him.

“My Gods, you don’t understand how long I’ve wanted you like this,” Aemond growls out as he grinds you against him harder, obsessed with the soft mewls you let out and the way you shake on top of him from how good he made you feel. “How badly I’ve needed you since I first fucking saw you, all those years ago.” He grunts softly, his lips finding your neck making you whine and rock against him as he presses his teasing kisses down your throat. When Aemond reaches your cleavage he looks into your eyes for permission, smirking at how much of a mess you already seem to be for him before pulling your flimsy dress down and exposing your perfect tits to him. Aemond lets out a strained moan at the sight, cupping the soft expanse of them gently and drawing some soft mewls out of you. “You’re more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.” Aemond mutters, more to himself than you as his wild eye roams your uncovered breasts. Heat rises to your cheeks, and arousal to your belly as Aemond teases your nipples with his fingers and tongue. Before you can even think Aemond is flipping you onto your back, clambering on top of you hungrily as you gasp and pant beneath him.

“Shh my darling, you don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?” Aemond teases breathily into your ear, making you shiver against him.

“No my Prince.” You whisper shyly to him, swallowing hard as you try and contain your moans.

“Please, just call me Aemond.” He breathes, longing in his voice as his hands slip up your skirt, caressing your bare thighs desperately. He waits for a moment before he moves his hands any further, raising a brow at you to ask if it’s alright with you for him to continue. You chuckle at this, heart warming that he would still ask despite seeing how desperate you clearly are for him.

“Aemond, you can do whatever you want with me. I’m yours, completely.” You tell him sincerely, biting your lip as the boy only moans loudly in response. To hear you say you are his is the final straw, that takes Aemond last strand of sanity. He ravenously pushes the skirt of your dress up, breath catching his throat as he lays eye upon your wet cunt.

“Fuck, you’re dripping wet.” Aemond growls, jaw clenching tightly from the progressive primal desire he had to pin you down and fuck you senseless. Your body just responded so perfectly to him and looked so perfect beneath him, Aemond knows this is all he’ll ever want the rest of his life.

Your head falls back into his pillow as he lowers himself between your legs and buries his face into your cunt, dying to know what you taste like.

“So fucking sweet. Like the nectar of the Gods.” Aemond moans earnestly, the vibrations against your cunt making your toes curl. He eats you like he hasn’t had a meal in weeks, his nose pressing against your clit in a way that makes you see stars. Without warning he gently slides a finger up your wet slit, teasing your clit with his tongue and relishing in the breathy moans you let out. He growls as he tries to press a finger into you and feels the tightness of your cunt wrapping around it. You’re going to feel like a vice grip around his cock. He slowly fucks you with his finger, intent on stretching you out at least a little bit for his cock as the last thing he’d want to do is hurt you.

“Please Aemond.” You whine out, frustrated and hips bucking into his face. He looks up at you, that gorgeous angular face looking angelic between your legs, smirking as he licks your wetness off his lips.

“What is it my love?” Aemond coo’s out to you teasingly, eyes narrowed with lust as he watches your chest rise and fall with your heavy breaths.

“Please, I need you to fuck me.” You beg him, unable to take his teasing any longer. Aemond chokes out a growl, feral hearing you beg him to fuck you. He quickly pulls off his bedshirt and breeches, his sizeable cock slapping his stomach and making your mouth drop open in shock.

“What? Never seen a dick this big darling?” Aemond ask you with a smirk, eyes dark as he pins your arms harshly above your head and slides his cock against your dripping entrance. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it fits.” He groans, eyes rolling back as he feels your wet heat against the tip of his cock. He pushes himself into you, white hot pleasure erupting in his belly as he feels your velvet walls clenching around him. You whimper at the stretch of his big cock and Aemond strokes your hair to sooth you, shushing you gently. “You’re taking me so well.” Aemond coos, voice strained as he wills himself to go slowly for you. He groans as he bottoms out in you, legs shaking from the way your cunt pulses around him. Your legs wrap around his middle tighter and Aemond takes that to mean that you’re ready for more, not wasting a second before starting to thrust into you slowly. Aemond had only had sex once before but he doesn’t remember that feeling anywhere near as good as you do right now, soaking his cock and clenching tightly around him as you are. His hair falls into his face as his pace picks up, unable to keep himself from seeking more of your warmth, his silver hair forming a halo around his gorgeous face. He marvels at your cunt taking all of him, dick twitching as he watches it slip in and out of your slick.

“Harder Aemond.” You moan loudly, earning a guttural grunt from the man above you who’s hips instantly start snapping faster into yours. Aemond growls as he pounds you harder, loving the fucked out expression on your face as he ruins you. Lost in his pleasure he wraps a hand around your throat, earning a breathy whine from you, squeezing it gently as he stuffs you full of him.

“Fuck you like that? I felt your cunt clench around me,” He groans, eyes darkening as you nod and moan when he squeezes your neck even harder. “Ask and you shall receive.” Aemond fucks you punishingly hard, groaning with each thrust into your tight heat, feeling himself get closer to his edge. His thrusts are frantic, balls slapping against your pussy and covered in your slick, and he has to raise a hand to cover your mouth for how loudly you were moaning.

“I’m getting close.” He grunts out hoarsely, panting heavily as he pushes some sweat leaden hair out of his face. He knows he should pull out, it occurs to him as he feels his orgasm about to envelope him, but your cunt felt like it was just drawing him in deeper, begging to be filled up by him.

“I’m going to fuck my bastard into this perfect cunt,” Aemond snarls, eyes rolling back in his head as you tighten even more at his words.

“Yes! Please fill me up Aemond!” You beg out, practically sobbing with pleasure as Aemond loses his last grip on sanity and pounds you into his mattress, grunting loudly as his seed spills into.

“Oh fuck,” Aemond whines softly, pushing himself further into you as your tightness milks every last drop of cum out of his cock. “You’re mine.” He says breathlessly, pressing his forehead against yours as he pulls out and engulfs you in his arms, hugging you flush against his naked body. You smile gently up at him, out of breath and legs numb.

“Eternally, my Prince.” You respond in a soft whisper, humming contently when Aemond pulls you into a passionate kiss. When you both part his thumb rubs your bottom lip, eye studying every inch of your gorgeous, blissed out face.

“You look divine.” He says, awe in his voice as reality sets in that he really, truly just got to fuck the love of his life. And then more clarity comes, in the fact that now he certainly couldn’t live without you. He needs you in his life, as his wife, to love and to cherish for the rest of his days. He couldn’t stand to let you continue to serve, to watch from the sidelines as his brother and any lord at the table fawns at you. No, you were his now, eternally. Aemond chest tightens as he holds you closer, conflicted by what he should do next. But for now, as you cuddle against his chest, all Aemond wants to do is stroke your hair and enjoy this moment with you. What will come after is for him to fret about another day.

#Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen x you #house of the dragon smut #Aemond Targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd smut

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erensangel444 · 3 years ago

Text

you’re my bestfriend

please dni if not 18+ thank u! eren jaeger x reader

modern!au

this blurb is eren x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this blurb has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

a/n: this fic is basically the embodiment of my deepest desires. i will never get over slow burn friends to lovers trope. especially like when they like started as childhood friends and grew with each other like i will actually start sobbing.

A/N after finishing: this may be my favorite fic i’ve ever written

side note: i originally had eren driving an audi r8 but him driving a pick up truck is a very necessary part of the fic n you’ll see why :D

warnings: language, alcohol consumption, drug use(just weed), smut [slight breeding kink, creampie, oral f!receiving]

word count: 13.9k words

summary: love can only be ignored for so long.

eren loves telling the story of how the two of you became such good friends. and he doesn’t love telling it because it’s such a heartwarming story. he just loves to see how you get all

embarrassed.

eren always starts the story the same, regardless of his audience: “flashback, nine years...”

eren can’t recall every explicit detail from middle school, but he can remember the sheer awkwardness of being 12. eren knows he was a bit of a nerd in middle school, constantly watching minecraft building tutorials, and still playing with action figures( he’d take that one to his grave, though).

that’s why eren’s first interaction with you was completely new territory. obviously eren knew girls were like....a thing, but he had never really talked to any besides mikasa. he’d had small crushes, but he never confessed, too scared of being rejected.

but, you, you were a weird one. too intriguing for him to ignore. he really hadn’t ever noticed you before you had sent him that first message. his mom had finally allowed him to get kik, after putting up with his incessant begging for months.

he felt so cool getting the app that was such big talk around school. after watching tutorials, he could finally work it properly and was messaging back with armin and mikasa constantly.

eren can easily recall that fateful day that the kik notification flashed across his screen. he figured it was a message from mikasa, or a funny minecraft meme from armin, and he grabbed his phone with giddy excitement.

to find a message from, you. eren had cocked his head in slight confusion. you and eren had never talked before. sure, you sat two rows to the front and three seats to the left of him in history, but you’d never held an actual conversation before.

eren could feeling himself getting nervous now, his finger inching towards your message.

every time eren tells this story, he makes sure to include this next part: “i swear to god i let out an actual gasp when i read the message. i think y/n ruined my innocence,” and it is always followed with your “fuck off” being shouted from somewhere in the room.

the impending message of anticipation, of doom, read,

hey papi >0<

eren just sat for a moment, staring at his screen before wondering if he should ask armin for advice. papi? what is that supposed to mean?

after three minutes of contemplation, eren figured he could handle this one on his own. he carefully constructed his response before hitting send,

umm hi?

eren felt a strange sense of triumph. his first ever message to a girl. he thinks he handled it pretty well.

you were quickly responding, and that washed away eren’s triumph with more nerves.

lmao it was a dare from my friend

oh. you had probably only texted eren to tease him. he felt the butterflies in his stomach turn into clumps as he typed back his reply.

oh haha which friend?

he waited eagerly for you reply.

her name’s lily, she lives in texas, but we’re playing minecraft together :3

eren would’ve never taken you as someone who like video games. his little heart couldn’t take how fast it was beating. eren didn’t know what else to say besides,

oh i see

god, why was he so stupid? he could’ve said he liked minecraft too, he could’ve kept the conversation going. instead, it reached its inevitable end, your simple reply being,

yep

fuck, he’d scared you away, hadn’t he? eren put his hand over his mouth quickly. that was the first time he’d ever cursed.

you were bringing out the worst in him.

he threw his phone on his bed before putting his head in his hands with a whine fit for a 12 year old boy.

the next time eren had talked to you was at the end of the year school dance.

unbeknownst to him, you had mutual friends, or a mutual friend, mikasa. she had gone with a group of girls to the dance, claiming she didn’t want to be stuck around “you two bozos all night,” in reference to eren and armin.

eren can vividly remember this next moment, even with the strobe lights blinding his vision. he remembers mikasa trying to push you into him in an anything-but-subtle manner.

he remembers the faint smell of your shampoo. apples? it suited you.

and he remembers how quickly you scurried away from him with a small, “sorry!”.

he remembers feeling like he grossed you out.

and most importantly, he remembers the joy he got when he saw your message that night before bed.

sorry about tonight. it must of made you uncomfortable with mikasa pushing me into you.

you were much more formal in this message, and overly apologetic, eren thought. you had no reason to be sorry, it wasn’t your fault. he wanted to talk to the same person he had talked to those 2 months ago.

haha it’s alright it was pretty crowded in there anyways

would the ‘haha’ be enough? eren was visibily stressed, gnawing on his bottom lip as he waited for you to message back.

thanks for understanding sorry again eren

had he read that right. did you type out his name? why’d it look so pretty in your message? it had never looked like that before.

eren fell asleep imagining his name falling from your lips.

though eren can recall those specific memories easily, he can’t trace back to an exact moment in which the two of you declared your friendship. he remembers the first time you hung out, the two of you with mikasa, armin, sasha, connie, and jean.

he remembers watching you play guitar hero and thinking you were so fucking cool. he can also remember the jealously that began brewing in his chest when he watched how comfortably you spoke to jean.

the two of you didn’t talk much that night besides eren handing you a piece of pizza on a plate. your smile and soft ‘thank you’ made his heart feel like he was about to have a stroke.

he couldn’t have gone home happier.

eren doesn’t know if his romantic feelings for you just disappeared over time. he doesn’t think they did. he knows they didn’t.

eren would describe his feelings for you as coming in waves. some days the tide would be strong, and on others, it would barely brush the shoreline.

as your relationship began to gradually progress and as you became closer friends, eren found no room for his romantic feelings. he didn’t want to risk losing what he was so gracious to even have. your friendship was better than nothing.

that fear of rejection always found a way of creeping back in.

and here you were now, 21, in a random living room with his basketball team and some of your friends, and he was telling this exact story.

though, as he told this story, and as he had in the many retellings before, he was leaving out the most fundamental part.

eren still loved you.

he attempted to convince himself that it was merely platonic.

that did not work.

so, he ended up concluding that he could ignore what he felt for you. he could try to.

he remembers having a serious girlfriend in highschool, and at the beginning of their relationship, eren remembers wishing you were jealous.

but, you weren’t. you supported him and cheered him on. you even congratulated him on dating someone so pretty, your exact words being, “what’s she doing with you, she could do so much better, give her my number!”

after that relationship ended, eren’s feelings for you were only magnified. he would never tell you this, but it ended because his girlfriend knew he was in love with you.

he thinks that he did love her, she was kind to him, and pretty.

but she wasn’t you.

and for all his relationships thereafter, he found himself holding every romantic partner to the standards at which he regarded you, and no one lived up to those. this led to eren’s slew of pointless hookups and his renowned title as a “playboy.”

eren could be in a relationship if he wanted to. hell, he was captain of his college’s basketball team, and though he broke some hearts, it was never intentional.

he felt bad because he’d never intended to hurt anyone. eren had always been straightforward with his intentions, and had never made any promises that he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep.

he just simply didn’t want a relationship if it wasn’t with you.

and as he sipped his beer, and listened to his teammate make some joke, his eyes gravitated towards you, like they always did. you were talking to some girl from your chem class that you had invited. she had been quiet for most of the party, rarely chirping in during conversation.

that’s another thing, eren thinks that his love for you is also fueled by admiration. you’re so friendly, and people gravitate towards you, even though you deny it. eren’s always found it difficult to blend in, but you make it so easy for everyone around you.

and as he watched you smile and hold a stupid conversation, he could visibly see how the girl relaxed. you made people comfortable. you made him comfortable.

you could feel his eyes on you, and you turned to him, smiling cheekily before turning back to your friend.

you were going to be the death of him.

“ren’, come on, you can’t smoke in here,” you chastised eren before turning back to your chemistry textbook.

“come on angel,” eren muttered around the joint in his mouth, “there’s a reason there’s these private study rooms, and for me, personally, in order to study i need some recreational motivation.”

eren cast his signature grin towards you before bringing the lighter towards his joint. “eren s’gonna smell,” you warned, to which he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“at least open the window,” you begged, trying to focus on your work.

“fine, don’t get your panties in a twist,” eren puffed out after inhaling. he walked over to the window, fumbling with the latch for a minute, muttering a ‘fuck’ and ‘why would they make this so fuckin’ difficult’ before he finally got it open.

eren sat on the ledge, his legs dangling out of the window. “s’nice out today,” he hummed thoughtfully. upon your lack of reply, eren turned around to look at you. your eyes were slightly squinted as you tried to make more sense of the words on the page. you were muttering to yourself, which eren found rather endearing, might he add.

“we should go to the beach,” he said, still looking at you. you looked up at him, raising your eyebrows, “eren,” you sighed. “c’mon,” he pleaded softly, his feet back on the ground of the study room.

“you study so much, you should take a break,” eren reasoned, coming up behind your chair now. his hands found their way to your shoulders, making you suck in a sharp breath that you hoped wasn’t noticeable.

“y/n, i can literally feel the knots forming in your back already, you’re gonna be like dead by 40.”

he was massaging your shoulders as he continued to ramble. you let his smell invade your senses, the woody scent of his cologne, the hint of weed from the joint he had just smoked, and something like a sweet cinnamon smell.

“y’know you needa fix your posture,” eren teased, his hands falling from your shoulders. “oh fuck off,” you laughed softly before closing your textbook.

you didn’t miss the excitement that lit up in eren’s eyes at the small action. “let’s go, ren’,” you groaned softly, attempting to mask your own joy as you began packing up your school items.

“yes, fuck yes!” eren grinned, grabbing his backpack that had yet to be unpacked for the entirety of the study session.

you honestly don’t know how eren convinced you to do half of the things that he did. for example, this moment right now.

you had made it to the beach, and you and eren laid on a beach towel as the sun set. he ended up laying his head in your lap, which prompted him to force you to braid his hair.

he was rather demanding, and you told him as such, “i’m so surprised you’re not an only child,” to which eren scoffed and attempted to head butt your stomach, which only resulted in a slap to the forehead from you.

“ow!”

but that was an hour ago. now, you and eren were in the water, the both of you stripped down to your underwear. you were thankful that you had decided to wear a bra today, otherwise your bare tits and eren would have had an unlikely meeting.

he had somehow convinced you to go swimming, even though you tried to rationalize, “we don’t have swimsuits,” to which eren replied, “underwear, swimsuits, same thing.”

and he wasn’t necessarily wrong, but you wish he would’ve been. the water was cold, and yet you, you were anything but freezing.

in fact, you felt extremely hot, your face burning under the intensity of eren’s gaze.

it almost felt too cliche, the way you felt drawn to eren in that moment. he must of felt it too, because almost subconsciously, the two of you started to navigate closer to each other.

your faces were inches apart, your lips so close to brushing when eren whispered, “eyelash,” his thumb brushing across your cheek. that fucking asshole.

you couldn’t help the visible pout that made its way onto your face, eren softly laughing, “what’s the matter?” you chose to respond with actions rather than words, splashing eren with water.

“oh you’re dead,” he grinned, wading over to you now. you attempted to turn and run, looking back at him over your shoulder, but the water slowed your movements. “ren’, no! eren, eren no please!” you were laughing around your words as eren lifted you over his shoulder.

“did it to yourself, princess,” you swore you felt him softly slap your ass before he was dunking you underwater.

you came back up wiping at your eyes and coughing softly. “i’m gonna stab you one day, jaeger,”

“i’d love to see you try.”

“where’d you go?” eren whisper-shouted into your ear, the bass of the song playing was vibrating the walls of the living room.

“had to piss,” you yelled back, eren laughing softly. “wanna dance?” eren asked, his voice muted slightly by the music. you just nodded with a grin, grabbing eren’s hands and dragging him through the mass of bodies.

soon after you had made your way to the center of the poorly-coordinated mosh pit, sky by playboi carti started playing. you turned to eren, mouth open in an o, eren grinning at your silly expression.

you were close to each other, but that wasn’t that weird considering the other bodies pushing up against yours. you and eren began rapping the lyrics to one another, eren doing silly hand movements in front of your face causing you to laugh around the lyrics.

“she my bestfriend, yeah we not a couple,” eren’s arms were linking around your lower back now, pulling you closer to him as he continued singing the lyrics.

and you were attempting to be playful back, but you couldn’t really focus when you could smell his cologne, feel his stare and that annoying fucking smirk. you attempted to mask your flustered state with a light-hearted contempt.

eventually, the song ended and eren’s hand was falling to your hip, pulling you closer to him so that he could whisper in your ear. “you wan’ a refill?” he half-shouted over the music, to which you nodded, grabbing eren’s hand and dragging him towards the kitchen.

as the music and noise became muffled behind the kitchen walls, you were reaching into the bucket full of ice and grabbing two smirnoffs for you and eren. there were a few other people scattered throughout the kitchen as you turned around to hand eren one of the bottles. you leaned back against the countertop, watching eren pop his bottle open with his teeth.

he handed the bottle to you, grabbing the one from your hands, the brush of your fingers against his doing something to your heart that it should not have.

eren grinned at you after popping the cap off his bottle, taking a swig. “wonder where sash’ and connie went,” you said absentmindedly, sipping on your drink. “if i had to take a guess, sasha is in the pantry and con’ is probably trying to hold her back.”

you laughed softly, smiling at eren but before you could bounce off his joke with your own, someone was yelling, “body shots!”

once the words registered in eren’s head, he was giving you that cheeky smile, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the center of the kitchen. people had begun filtering in from the other rooms of the fraternity house as jean began setting down shot glasses, limes, salt, and tequila on the kitchen table.

jean stood on a chair, a couple whistles and ‘woops’ sounding out for him as he began talking, “as president of this lovely chapter of sigma alpha, it’s my job to carry on one of our most faithful traditions,” he got more whistles at that, his fraternity brothers cheering him on. what odd specimen.

“and, you all came here tonight for some fun, yeah?” the huddled crowd got louder at that. “then without further ado,” jean huffed, hopping down from his chair, “can i get a pretty volunteer up here?”

girls began pushing their way past each other, and so much for wondering where sasha was. there she appeared next to you, a donut in hand. “you should do it,” she mumbled around a mouthful, pushing you towards the front of the crowd.

eren opened his mouth in rebuttal, but you were already at the front, lined up beside fourteen other girls. jean smiled when he saw you make your way into the line, beginning his presidential speech once more, “now ladies, thank you for your dutiful service,” laughs filled the room at his small joke, “but it seems i’ll only need one volunteer.”

he began walking along the line with murmurs of “who to pick, choices, choices.” you knew jean was fucking with you, he knew you best out of all these girls and if he was being honest with himself, he’d been dying to get with you.

that task proved to be difficult, though, with eren as your guard dog.

now was his chance.

making his way down the line once more, he stopped in front of you, “now what’s your name?” jean teased, grinning at you. “y/n,” you said simply, “and yours?” the crowd oooo’ed at that, and you could hear eren’s laugh behind you.

“feisty, i like it,” “oh fuck off kirstein,” you laughed, brushing past him to sit atop the table. you began pouring tequila into one of the shot glasses before sitting back on your arms.

“are you gonna do it?” you grinned at jean, his eyes glinting with something unreadable as he smirked at you, “or do you not have the balls?” once more the crowd was hollering at your response, and jean was making his way over the table with a new determination.

he softly grabbed at your shoulder, pushing you to lay down flat on the table, your legs dangling off the edge. he grabbed a lime, chuckling around a husk, “open,” before placing the lime in your mouth.

he began sprinkling salt on the dip of your cleavage, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “tryna’ embarass me in front of everyone, huh?” a soft laugh falling from his lips as he grabbed the shot of tequila.

“to y/n!” jean shouted, the crowd falling in close pursuit, cheering as jean downed the shot of tequila. he was quickly leaning to lick the salt off of your body, the heat of his tongue shocking your system.

and then before you could even recover, his lips were on yours as he sucked the lime from your mouth and into his. he lingered for a moment longer, leaning up and spitting out the lime as he raised his arms with a smile.

his frat brothers came up behind him quickly, patting him on the back, and putting him in a chokehold. you sat up with a soft laugh, looking around the kitchen for eren. yet, he was already walking over to you, looking somewhat, angry?

eren was clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth with a ‘tsk tsk tsk’ before turning to jean with a cocky grin. “it can’t be over yet, can it, pres?”

he was walking over to you now, grabbing the tequila bottle of the table. “yeah body shots are fun,” the whole crowd was intrigued by eren now, he was radiating an aura that was captivating everyone’s attention, “but i like something more...nasty, so to speak.”

“open,” was all he said before bringing the bottle up to his lips, and taking a swig. you obeyed his command without even realizing, and his hand was wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer to him.

you felt it before eren’s actions registered, the liquid from his mouth falling into yours. his lips brushed against yours for the slightest second before he pulled back with a grin. the alcohol was overwhelming your senses, but even so, you could taste the faintness of cinnamon from the mints that eren was constantly chewing.

“now swallow,” he hummed, gripping your neck a little tighter so that he could feel the liquid travel down your throat. “now how’s that for a shot?” he teased, turning back to the dumbfounded crowd.

the room was quickly full of roars and cheers, eren grabbing your hand and dragging you back to the center of the floor. the crowd was quick to follow, everyone dancing once more as eren pulled you against him.

you were too hazed to worry if he could feel the quickness of your heart beat, too comfortable with eren’s hands on your hips, pushing you further against him.

he was leaning down to your ear now, whispering something, his voice traveling straight down your body, “much better than horseface, huh, angel?”

you don’t know how or what god you have to thank for it, but you and eren somehow made it back to your shared apartment. eren was rummaging through the fridge as you sat on one of the stools at the countertop, your head in your hands as you groaned slightly.

eren was humming trademark usa by baby keem, that being the last song played before you and eren had eventually decided to bid everyone farewell. and somehow, drunk of your asses, the two of you had made it back home.

“wanagrilledcheese?” eren mumbled quickly, grabbing the cheese out of the fridge. “huh?” you laughed softly, eren laughing at the sound of yours.

“do...you...want....a....grilled....cheese?” eren said very slowly, grinning all the while. “yes.....i.....do.....thank....you,” you mocked, hopping off the stool with a slight wobble and making your way into the kitchen, over to eren.

“you forgot the butter,” you jokingly chastised, grabbing some from the fridge and handing it to eren. “how could i?” he joked back, placing his hand over his heart with a ‘shocked’ expression.

you laid your head on the arm eren wasn’t using, watching him cut the butter and place the slice into the pan, the heat causing it to sizzle and bubble.

eventually he was placing the bread in and laying cheese and bread on top of the slice. “this is gonna be so good,” eren hummed mindlessly, to which you nodded in agreement.

you grabbed the chocolate milk from the fridge, the one that eren had insisted on getting the last time you were at the grocery store(though you swear he doesn’t even drink it).

you poured two glasses for you and eren , bringing them to the kitchen table and sitting down. before too long, eren was in front of you with two plates, sitting in the chair beside you.

after taking a bite, you turned to eren with a closed-mouth grin, chewing on the grilled cheese.

no joke, you were pretty sure this was the best grilled cheese you’d had in your life.

or maybe you were just drunk.

either way, you were thanking eren endlessly to which he replied, “i know, i know,” jokingly patting himself on the back.

the two of you continue eating as you told eren about connie jumping off the roof and into the pool, “i looked away for like one second and that happens!” he sighs, exasperated, causing you to laugh softly, “it was so fucking funny ren’! you shoulda’ seen his face.”

laughter was mixed in with mouthfuls of cheese and bread, and sips of chocolate milk.

why are headaches a thing?

that is the question you found yourself asking at 1:18 PM. the pounding in your head was incessant, and may have been unbearable, if not for the way eren’s arm wrapped around your stomach.

he drew you closer to him in his sleep, nuzzling his nose into your neck with a deep exhale. “g’morning,” he spoke, his voice gravely. oh, so he was awake, and yet, that was not stopping him from pressing his body against yours.

you tried to ignore it, to quell the flippant pattern of your heart beat. “morning, ren’,” you said softly.

you both laid there for a few moments, neither of you wanting to move. after attempting to slow the quickening pace of your heart, and albeit reluctantly, you went to shuffle out of bed.

“no, come back,” eren grumbled, gripping tighter on your midsection. you turned over to face him, laughing softly at him as he squinted his eyes, “ren’, we have to get up eventually.”

“10 minutes,” eren mumbled, settling his head on your chest, barely above your breasts. there came your heart again, beating like nobody’s business. you’re pretty sure eren is this close to sending you into cardiac arrest.

“heart’s beating s’fast,” eren teased softly, “yeah cause you’re like a fucking furnance, feel like i’m gonna die of heat stroke,” you scoffed, attempting to mask your flustered state.

“a furnance? what are you 80?” eren said, voice still slightly husk as he looked up at you with an amused expression.

“that’s my final straw, i’m getting up” you laughed softly, moving to get out of bed. “no, i was just playing,” eren whined, chuckling softly as he watched you slip on your his slippers.

he remembers when you gave him those as a small part to his more than extravagant birthday present.

“these are for you!” eren couldn’t help but grin at how happy you looked, grabbing the shoe box from your hand.

he grabbed the tissue paper quickly discarding it to the side to see fur slippers. he looked up with an arched brow, confusion and humor on his face.

“just a way to make sure i don’t have to see your dogs 24/7!″

“my toes are beautiful and you know it, y/n,”

eren watched you grab your phone from its charging port across the room, and the way you all too comfortably grabbed a hoodie from his drawer. “are you gonna make breakfast or what?” eren said, sitting up in bed now, back against the headboard.

you turned to him, grabbing one of his shirts off the floor and tossing it at him. “now, you know damn well how my hangover routine goes,” eren laughing softly at your tone.

“yeah, yeah, i know, starbucks and you forcing me to drive,”

“well if you know, come on then, damn.”

“i swear to god i’m never drinking again,” you groaned from the passenger seat, you and eren waiting in the starbucks line.

“you say that every time, and then end up going out that same night,” eren turned to you smirking.

“i better not be sensing judgement from the one and only, jaeger bomb”

“that was one time!” eren huffed, causing you to laugh softly.

you tease him about that constantly. the two of you had been out at one of jean’s parties, and jean’s fraternity brothers had come up to eren, begging him to join their frat. “come on, jaeger-bomb”--this for real happened, by the way--“we need you as our alpha.”

upon hearing your laughter, eren’s cheeks flushed a bright red as he knew you’d never let that one go.

and here you are, cracking up in the passenger seat of his two-seater truck as though you’re the funniest person in the world.

“fuck off,” he scoffed, laughing softly as he pulled up to order. you were about to tell him what to get you, but he was one step ahead of you, “can i get a grilled cheese, and a mocha frap with no whip. oh and also an iced matcha latte?”

you smiled at the fact that he knew your order by heart now. not that it surprised you, because you guys spent so much time together, but it just felt good. safe.

“that’ll be 17.35,″ snapped you out of it as eren thanked the barista and pulled forward. you watched him pull out his card, despite your argument with your own card in your hand. eren handed you your food and drink before bringing one hand back to the steering wheel and pulling out of the drive-thru line.

you ate your grilled cheese in quiet happiness, eren turning to look at you every so often, smiling at the tranquil expression on your face.

okay, so maybe eren was right. you did have a tendency to complain about hangovers and then go out and get drunk the very same night. for example, tonight. you couldn’t reject sasha’s invitation to karaoke, and as you always did, you dragged eren along with you.

as you scrolled through the karaoke list, the vodka thrumming in your system so sweetly, you were perfectly content in your dazed state. sasha squealed pulling you from your mind fart as she tapped incessantly on your shoulder.

“they have take a hint, we have to do it!” she exclaimed, and upon her words registering, you were sharing that same excitement. eren was simply reclined on the comfy sofa of the karaoke room booth, watching you with a hint of amusement.

somehow, you and sasha managed to scramble on stage with two mics as the music began. you started to jokingly strut around one another as the music began playing as sasha started singing tori’s line.

the song ended with some squeaky high-notes and less-than-par dance moves, but eren couldn’t help but grin from his seat as he watched you move around the stage, all care-free and pretty.

“you know my mom gave me this recipe,” eren hummed around the spoon, tasting the pasta sauce. “needs some more basil,” he muttered under his breath, reaching into the spice cabinet.

“i remember her making it for us before homecoming, you remember that?” you laughed softly at the memory, eren joining in.

it was your freshman year homecoming, and you were very much still in your awkward phase, as was eren. you wore a sparkly, poofy, yellow dress, and eren matched in a poorly-fitting black suit, with a yellow spongebob tie.

after pictures with armin and mikasa, you and eren went back to his house, where his mom was making her infamous rotini pasta. you still remember eren spilling some on his suit, and the mouthful he got from carla.

“god,” eren sighed around a soft chuckle, “she was so mad at me for spilling it on myself.”

“well she did say like 5 times to be careful while you eat.”

“you know she’s not here right now, you don’t have to be a kiss ass.”

you hit eren in his arm softly, smiling up at him as he continued to stir the pasta sauce. he lifted the spoon from the pan, bringing it close to your lips with a small, “here try some.”

you were all too quick to obedience, opening your mouth in a small ‘o’. eren put the spoon into your mouth, the basil from the sauce instantly flooding your senses. you were staring up at eren as he said softly, “is it good?”

“mhm,” you hummed around the spoon, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. he pulled the spoon away, albeit reluctantly, the both of you still looking at one another.

you broke the tension by clearing your throat and declaring, “i think we need some wine, yeah?”

two glasses in and you were already feeling it. you weren’t a lightweight usually, but wine just made you feel...carefree, so to speak.

and unbeknownst to you, eren was feeling similar.

“have you ever been in love?” eren asked, out of the blue, the two of you sitting curled up on the couch, your plates from dinner sitting on the coffee table.

“i don’t know,” you hummed softly before continuing, “i think that’s an answer in itself, y’know? like, if i had ever been in love, i’d know what that felt like and could give a for-sure answer.”

eren hummed, nodding, the two of you growing quiet.

“have you?” you asked, eren looking up from the rim of his wine glass as he took a sip.

“have i what?” “been in love.”

“oh,” eren said, almost surprised, “i don’t know.”

you both laughed softly at that, “i don’t think i know what love really is, so i can’t define whether or not i’ve been in love.”

“i agree,” you spoke, your voice gentle, “but you’ve felt platonic love, you know with your mom, your friends, with me.”

eren had to contain a laugh from slipping out at that last one. platonic love, for you? what a joke. instead of laughing he just agreed with a “mhm.”

“don’t know if i’m cut out for anything more than platonic love, if i’m being honest,” you continued, the wine slowly, but surely, chipping away at your filter.

“why do you say that?” eren said, eager to know the answer.

you sighed softly, tracing your finger along the rim of the wine glass as you spoke softly, “being in love, you know real love, means showing people the worst parts of you. it means being vulnerable, and i-” you choke up for a moment, quickly clearing your throat in an attempt at a recovery, “i can’t do that.”

“but you can,” eren said seriously, moving closer to you, his knee nudging against yours. “you’re vulnerable with me, i’ve seen you, i know you, what’s to say you can’t do that with,” this next part pained him to say, “s-somebody else?”

“i’m only vulnerable cause, cause it’s you ren’, don’t wanna be that way with anyone else.”

fuck, you’re trying to kill him.

you both fell silent for a moment before eren looked over at you, he had never seen you look so....embarrassed. “well it’s the same for me,” he said softly. god, he sounded like a 12 year old all over again.

“i’m only this way with you.” he finished, looking down at his wine glass.

the two of you smiled at each other, taking sips from your wine as the melodies of otis redding continued playing in the background.

since the start of highschool, it’s been tradition within your friend group to spend the first days of spring break in jean’s dad’s cabin. mikasa, ymir, historia, annie, and armin had gone down a day earlier since they had finished their finals before everyone else.

the cabin was about 2 hours from paradis, and the car ride usually consisted of jean and connie fighting over who was on aux, until one subsided. this time, jean was the one to lose but not without going on tangent.

“fine con’ go ahead n be a fuckin’ dipshit and play some fuckin’ horrible music for the rest of the car ride, go ahead, i don’ care, even though i’m fucking driving so, i should have aux, but whatever, s’fine,” you swore you felt the car swerve as jean ranted.

the top was off of jean’s red convertible. the wind was brushing against your face, causing your eyes to water. connie was in the passenger seat, and you were sat in the middle of the backseat between sasha and eren.

you turned over to look at eren, who was admiring the scene passing by him. the pretty brown wisps of hair that had come down to frame his face were blowing from the breeze. he turned to look over at you, catching you staring, to which he raised one eyebrow with a genuine smile.

you simply just turned back to look straight ahead, laughing softly. eventually the city subsided into a beautiful forest with large sequoia trees. the roads began to curve a little more and you couldn’t help but look up at the trees towering over you.

california love came on shuffle through the car stereo, connie wooping loudly before singing, terribly by the way, off-key, “california looooovee!” you all laughed softly, joining in as you began rapping along to the song.

unbeknownst to you, eren had yet to look away from your face. he watched your pretty lips form the lyrics, and the silly expressions you made as you mindlessly sang along.

you are so fucking pretty.

the rest of the group greeted you outside, jean parking his car in front of the house in the large circular driveway. he was so fucking rich that it was actually mind-blowing if you stopped to think about it.

mikasa and armin came up to you and eren, giving you both big hugs. armin offered to carry your bags in for you, but eren quickly said “there’s no need,” and grabbed your bags along with his.

you followed mikasa into the house and up the stairs as she led eren to yours and hers shared room. “you can set her bag down here, eren, n’ your room is jus’ down the hall,” she said.

“i’ll see you guys back downstairs,” she smiled, her tone filled with implications.

eren set your bags down by the closet before sitting down on the bed and looking at you, “you guys always get the good room,” he joked before laying down on the bed.

you laughed softly, walking over to sit down on the bed beside him. you laid down too, turning over to look at him before looking back up at the ceiling. “can’t believe this is like our 7th year coming here,” eren sighed softly.

“me either,” eren turned to look at you before looking back up at the ceiling. he was praying that his cheeks weren’t flushed pink. “m’glad you’re in my life ren’,” you said softly, looking at him once more.

this time though, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. and neither could eren.

“m’glad you’re in my life too, cupcake,” you giggled at the nickname, eren grinning at the pretty sound. interrupting the sweet moment was the hollers off all your friends and connie’s shout of, “drink up bitch!”

you both chuckled before eren sat up, leaning back on his arms and looking down at you.

“ya wanna go kick some ass in beer pong?”

“you know i do.”

and that it is exactly what the two of you proceeded to do. you and eren were a force to be reckoned with. eren’s celebrations for you sinking the small ping pong ball into one of the beer-filled solo cups differed each time.

the first time he simply just nodded with a teasing, “okay, i see you!”

the second was a silly hip bump, though unaware of his own strength, you were tumbling over a little, to which eren grabbed you and pullled you back up steady, the two of you giggling.

it was evident that the two tequila shots that you and eren had taken before the game were kicking in.

and when you got the game-winner, eren grabbed you around the waist, lifting you up and spinning you around, your sharp squeal sounding throughout the room.

if you had been sober, you would have seen mikasa shaking her head as though she knew something that the two of you didn’t.

eren put you back down, still grinning as he flipped connie off. connie just groaned with a “kiss my fucking ass, bro.”

the rest of the night was drinking games, and jean finally got to be on aux. around 1:00, though, everyone started to call it a night. apart from you and eren.

the two of you were sat at the kitchen table, and you were fiddling with the cap of another smirnoff. eren promptly grabbed the bottle from your hands, opening it with his teeth.

you offered a sweet, “thank you,”, taking a small swig from the bottle. eren was nursing a beer that was probably luke-warm by now, but he didn’t care.

he couldn’t find it in him to care, not with you sitting right next to him, looking like an angel.

eren attempted to shake those thoughts away, his voice wavering as he began to talk, “y-you wanna go down to the lake?” eren asked, standing up and looking down at you.

you raised your eyes to look at him, flustered at how big he looked standing over you, “s-sure!” you said, standing.

one of eren’s hands fell to the small of your back, leading you to the back door and opening it for you. the cabin had a dock that attached to the back patio and the expansive backyard.

the two of you walked down the wooden dock, a soft silence falling over you. upon reaching the end, you looked up at the night sky. the moon was casting a soft glow over the two of you, and there were so many stars out.

you always loved coming out here, especially because of how pretty the nights were. you sat down, your legs hanging off the edge of the dock, eren quickly following suit.

“s’pretty” he muttered, still looking up at the sky, “mhm” was the only answer you could give as you admired the side of eren’s face.

“ask me something,” eren said abruptly, turning to look at you. you sputtered around words for a second, embarrassed at getting caught staring, before you were able to form a “huh?”

“ask me a question,” eren repeated, “anything you wanna know.”

“i already know everything about you, ren’.”

“not everything.”

a soft silence fell over the two of you once more before you sighed, “okay,” you planned to blame this on the alcohol ruining your filter in the morning, but in all honesty, you had always wanted to know what you were about to ask.

when eren had broken up with his highschool sweetheart, he hadn’t offered any explanation, just that “it was a mutual decision.”

something about it irked you, especially because when eren talked to you about her, he made her seem like his whole world.

“why’d you break up with historia?” you asked, quickly pressing your lips together after the question fell onto the peaceful silence of the night air.

eren would also blame his lack of filter on the alcohol when he woke up tomorrow morning.

“because of you.”

your eyes widened, turning to look at eren in a sort of disbelief. the look in your eyes was enough for eren to know that you wanted him to explain further.

“sh-she....historia,” his voice got really small at the next part, “historia thought i was in love with you.”

the air was not peaceful anymore, no. now it was full of tension, of withheld confessions.

you almost stopped yourself from muttering your next two, simple words;

“w-were you?”

“don’t play dumb, y/n.”

the silence was back once more. you turned to look at eren, and you swore you saw a glimpse of his 12 year old-self. you hadn’t seen him take on such a shy demeanor in so long, but with the way he was looking down at his lap, fiddling with his hands, it was like he was that small boy all over again.

“ask me a question.” you said boldly, eren almost getting whiplash from how quick he turned to look at you.

“w-what?” “ask me a question, eren.”

you were hoping that he would ask the right one.

“oh-um, okay, um,” he hummed to himself for a moment, and you kept taking glimpses at him out of your peripheral.

his cheeks were flushed pink, his lips opening and closing a couple times before he finally got the courage to ask, “why haven’t you ever been in a relationship?”

you smiled softly to yourself. he asked the right one. eren was oblivious to your small glee, attempting to clarify his question, scared he might of offended you.

“w-well, i mean! uh-i know you’ve like uh-” he cleared his throat, “been with people, but i mean, t-there’s never been anything serious so, i guess i’m...hm, i’m just wondering, why?”

your smile grew at eren’s rambling before your answer fell from your lips.

“because of you.”

eren’s eyes were on you again, and he was praying that you couldn’t see the desperation behind them.

“w-why?”

“do you even have to ask, eren?”

and there was that silence more. it wasn’t peaceful, nor was it tense. it was in a state of juxtaposition; content, but eager for more.

it was always like this with you and eren, beating around the bush with your feelings. there’d be innuendos, unspoken answers, but neither of you had ever been outright with your feelings.

perhaps it was the fear of the losing the best thing, the best person in your life. that was enough to quell the incessant beating both of your hearts.

even if you couldn’t have eren in the way you wanted him, you still had him. he was still here, sitting next to you, talking to you. that was more than enough, right?

you nor eren would let your feelings overturn the years of friendship. neither of you would be able to cope with the gravity of losing the other.

you couldn’t deal with the thoughts racing through your mind, standing up and holding your hand out to eren.

“you ready to go in?” he nodded, grabbing your hand.

neither of you let go as you walked back to the cabin, and up the stairs to the bedrooms.

“so, um, goodnight ren’.”

“goodnight, cupcake.” you both smiled at the nickname, letting go of one another’s hands and walking your separate ways.

you opened the door to your room, expecting to see mikasa sprawled out over the bed, but to your surprise it was empty. you stood there for a second, confused, tired, n’ drunk.

“huh, where’s she-” you muttered to yourself, eren interrupting you with a whisper-shout down the hallway, “think i found her!”

you walked over to eren, who was still standing outside his room. you peered inside to find jean and mikasa in bed, a white sheet covering their body. mikasa’s arm was over jeans stomach, jean’s arm wrapping around her waist as they snuggled into one another.

“i’m so gonna give her shit about this in the morning,” you laughed softly, eren chuckling as he turned to look at you. you were smiling as you snapped a quick picture, and eren wasn’t sure if his heart could take anymore of you tonight.

“you can, uh, come sleep with me tonight if you want,” you offered.

eren tried to stop it, he really did but his cheeks were flushing pink as he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

he watched as you closed the room to his jean and mikasa’s room softly, before following you down the hall to your room. it all felt like eren was watching this blur past him. sure the two of you had slept in the same room, many many times, but he’d basically just confessed to previously being in love with you.

and he was pretty sure you were smart enough to infer that he still was very much in love with you.

he was sitting on your bed, taking his shirt and his pants off, because, well, he forgot to grab clothes. sure, it was just a walk down the hall, but he was tired.

and then, eren watched your shirt come off. he saw the lacy intricacy of your bralette before you turned away from him and towards the dresser. you unclipped the clasps of your bra, and eren swears he almost dissolved into the bed.

just the image of your back, your bare back in front of him, was enough to have him popping a semi. he brought his hand to his bulge, silently hissing as he willed it to go away.

you grabbed a big white shirt, which he was pretty sure was his, and tugged it over your body. next came your shorts, and thankfully he couldn’t see anything due to how large the shirt was.

eren decided that he needed to get under the covers before he embarrassed himself. you turned around seeing eren already under the covers.

the way his eyes lingered on you made heat travel through your body.

“tired, huh, ren’?” you laughed softly, eren smiling as you made your way to your side of the bed. he turned over to face you as he mumbled, “tired doesn’t even cover it,” a soft smile on his face.

you lifted the covers up, catching a glimpse of eren’s toned abdomen, choosing, more so attempting, to ignore the image.

you both laid there, keeping your distance. you opened your eyes, saying a soft, “goodnight, ren’.”

eren didn’t respond back, his hand simply came to your waist as he said a soft, “c’mere,” and pulled you in closer to him. your face was nuzzled into his shoulder, eren’s head softly bumping against yours.

your legs were slowly becoming entangled with one another, and eren’s grip on your waist was holding you close to him.

“goodnight,” he sighed, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead.

everyone slept in the next morning, but eventually the sound of pans and movement throughout the kitchen lulled you and eren out of your sanctuary of sleep.

“m gonna go grab somethin’ to eat, ren,” you mumbled into his chest, still not moving. “mhm, go head,” he huffed, his breathing slow as he pulled you into him more. if you were being honest, there’s was no way you were getting up and leaving the embrace of eren’s arms.

the two of you laid there, reveling in your shared warmth until you heard a knock on the door. you and eren quickly moved to opposite sides of the bed, practically falling off the edge from how fast you separated from each other.

“c-come in!” you shouted, turning to look at eren for a second before turning back to look at the door.

its not that either of you cared if your friends saw you sleeping together, but you didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. y’know....think there’s something there when there isn’t. cause there isn’t.

sasha opened the door and you could see the big grin on her eye turn into a suspiciously-sweet smile. “goodmorning!” she paused for a moment, looking between the two of you before stopping on eren, “nico’s downstairs making breakfast if you wanna go help, eren.”

eren sat there for a good minute, thinking of what the most logical route was.

why would i go help? sasha knows i can’t cook for shit, what is she--oh. they’re about to talk shit on me. oh. okay. y/n is gonna tell her how she woke up to me being little spoon, fuck, okay, uh--

“yeah, uh, i’ll go do that,” eren said, quickly getting out of bed, but he was forgetting one major detail. he only had on briefs.

sahsa yelped with a cry of, “why are you butt-ass naked right now? oh my god!”

“i have briefs on sash for fucks sakes!”

“it-it’s not what it looks like!” you sputtered from the bed as eren pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed his sweats from the floor.

“g-get out!” sasha cried jokingly, trying not to laugh, “you are banned until further notice” she pointed a finger at eren as he chuckled slipping on his sweats.

he just shook his head as he started walking towards the bedroom door. he slid past sasha with a “see you downstairs, bozo,” and turned to you with a softer, “see you in a minute, y/n,”

“mhm” you replied, a soft smile on your face as you watched eren’s figure leave the doorway.

sasha watched him walk down the hall and once he got to the top of the staircase and began walking down, her head whipped towards you. “what. the. fuck.” she mouthed before closing the door and hopping on the bed.

“sashhh,” you whined, not ready for her incessant questions. “come on, y/n! you know i have to ask, mika would do the same!”

“you cannot tell mikasa, she will never let me forget about it,” you cried, putting your head in your hands as sasha laughed softly.

“don’t worry, she has no room to talk with all the shit she’s doing with jean,” sasha grimaced as she continued speaking, “the walls are so thin here, you can hear....everything, and i mean everything.”

you laughed softly, sasha smiling before she continued, “sooo.....”

“nothing happened,” you said, sasha raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “seriously we didn’t kiss or fuck or anythin,” you huffed out a breath before continuing, “last night was just...weird, n’ not bad just weird.”

“how so?” sasha asked as she shuffled across the bed to lay against the headboard. “s’just...we went down to the lake, right?” sasha nodded as you continued, “and we basically confessed to liking each other when we were younger,” you mumbled quickly, sasha’s mouth falling open in a soft ‘o’ before she laughed softly.

“and what about now? did you guys talk about how you feel now?”

your stomach dropped at that as you turned to sasha with furrowed eyebrows, “nothing’s happening now, me n’ ren’ are just friends.” “ren’?” sasha teased.

“stop, i’m serious, it’s not like that,” you crossed your arms over your chest, unsure if you were trying to convince sasha or yourself. “okay,” sasha subsided, “there’s pancake downstairs when you’re ready, lover girl,” sasha sung the nickname as she opened the door.

“you’re so corny, sasha,” you giggled softly, standing up from bed. “n’ you love me,” she hummed, following you down the hall. “yeah, yeah,” you teased, walking down the steps of the staircase.

everyone was already sitting at the table. eren’s head perked up at the sound of footsteps and he smiled once he saw you. you sat in the chair next to him, eren sliding his plate in between the two of you.

“saved you a chocolate chip one, know they’re your favorite,” eren smiled, the expression mirrored on your face.

“thanks , ren.”

the rest of the trip was really fun. connie tried to drown jean, which was normal, jean then returned the favor. niccolo barbecued, which was probably your favorite part.

eren went back to his room and mikasa came back to yours.

so there was that.

jean drove you, eren, sasha, and connie back. you and eren were the last stop, and you thanked jean again for driving and letting you guys stay.

“of course, always,” he smiled at you. “text when you get home please,” you said sweetly. jean chuckled, hoping his cheeks didn’t flush too pink at your thoughtfulness, “i always do,” he said softly.

eren was quick with a “bye horseface, thanks,” grinning at jean, who quickly flipped eren off. the engine of jean’s convertible roared as he drove off from yours and eren’s apartment complex.

“you guys are so sweet to each other,” you teased, eren laughing softly. “gimme your bag,” eren grunted, and you knew better than to argue with him about carrying your own things.

you grabbed the keys from your back pocket, unlocking the door to the apartment complex and holding it open for eren. the elevator ride up to yours and eren’s apartment was quiet, the two of you tired from the car ride.

as soon as you made it into your apartment eren dropped the bags by the door and slumped onto the couch. you laughed at eren’s long legs falling over the armrest of the couch as you walked into the kitchen.

“ren’, you want some water?” you yelled softly, receiving an affirmative, “please,” from eren. you walked back into the living room, setting eren’s glass on top of the table.

“m gonna head to bed,” you said softly, looking down at eren who’s eyes were shut softly. “i’ll come with you,” he said, his voice low. you could only get out a soft “okay, c’mon then.”

eren grabbed his water, and walked behind you towards your room. you were too tired to change and the clothes you were in were comfortable enough.

the same could not be said for eren.

he ditched his shirt and sweats, leaving him in his boxer briefs. as soon as his pants came off you forced yourself to look away and try to let sleep take you over.

you felt eren slide under the comforter, lying right beside you. and though you couldn’t see it, you knew eren was close. you cold feel his knee touching the back of yours, and although faint, you could feel his soft breath on the back of your neck.

“thanks for letting me sleep in here,” eren said softly.

“always, ren’.”

one thing about eren is that he can roll a good blunt. and god, did he look good while doing it. a tray was sitting in his lap, a grinder, weed, rolling paper and a lighter on it.

eren was so concentrated, tapping the rolled joint against the tray. after he was finished, he placed the joint between his lips and handed you the lighter with a soft grin.

“would you do the honors,” he mumbled around the joint to which you smiled. you came closer to eren’s face, striking the lighter. the flame flickered between yours and eren’s faces as you brought the flame towards the tip of the joint.

eren took in a deep inhale, blowing the smoke out of his lips, turning to you with a soft grin and holding the joint out to you.

you accepted it, gratefully, inhaling and letting the smoke fill your lungs before you exhaled. “can we shotgun it ren’?” you asked, scooting a little closer to eren. you didn’t miss the pink that flushed to his cheeks, “yeah, you want to? c’mere,” eren said, reaching for the joint.

you shook your head softly, eren arching an eyebrow in confusion. “i wanna try blowing it into your mouth,” you smiled softly, eren’s eyes widening a little bit before he nodded.

eren’s body tingled when your hand came to hold his chin softly and your sultry, “open up,” almost had him ruining his pants.

eren was quick to listen, his pink lips parting as you took an inhale from the joint. you leaned closer to him, your lips brushing for just a moment as you blew the smoke into eren’s mouth.

you pulled away, still looking at eren as you watched him exhale a cloud of smoke. “did i do good?” you teased, eren just smiling with a slow nod, his eyes raking up and down your figure.

you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle eren teasing you back, so you quickly shifted conversation, “y’hungry ren?”

obviously that was the wrong question to ask because eren was licking his lips and eyeing you down with an “mhm.”

“i-ill order us something!” you said scurrying off the bed and grabbing your phone from eren’s desk.

“thanks dude,” eren nodded towards the doordasher, shutting the apartment door behind him. you looked over at him from your spot on the couch, turning back around as eren walked over.

he set the bags of food on the coffee table, plopping down beside you on the couch. you watch as eren unties the bags, setting your food in front of you on the table.

you open up your sushi, asking eren to “hand me the soy sauce, please,” the two of you eat in peaceful silence, the high you’re experiencing softly settling over the two of you.

“you wan’ one of mine?” eren asks holding his tray out to you. you nod and eren grabs a piece with his chopsticks and brings it towards your mouth. he got a california roll, per usual, but you had to admit it was pretty good.

“mm” you hummed around the roll, eren smiling as he watched you chew, “s’good huh?” he said, to which you smiled. “want one of mine?” you mumbled around the food in your mouth, eren laughing softly at the way your words were jumbled.

“ywes plewase” eren mocked you, but opened his mouth, patiently awaiting you to hand feed him a roll. you laughed softly, grabbing a piece of the sushi with your chopsticks and bringing it to eren’s lips.

“woah,” he mumbled as he chewed, “wanna swap?” he asked after finishing the piece, beginning to reach for your tray. “funny, ren’,” you said, grabbing your tray from the table and holding it to the right of you.

“you’re not gonna share with me,” eren jokingly pouted, “guess i’ll just have to take it from you then huh?” he began reaching over you, one hand resting on your thigh, the other reaching for the tray of sushi that you held far to the right of you.

eren could grab it if he wanted to you, his wingspan being much larger than yours, but he was far too content with listening to your soft giggles and feeling the warmth of your skin under his palm.

“come in, come in,” your mom said, ushering you and eren into the house. “how was the drive down?” your mother asked as you and eren followed her into the kitchen. “wasn’t too bad,” you answered, as eren pulled out a seat for you at the kitchen table.

your mom was stirring some sauce at the stove, and eren was taking his coat off and setting it on the back of his chair.

“do you need any help with anything, mrs. y/l/n?” eren asked, your mom turning around to gift him with a big grin. “oh no honey! you sit, you must be tired from driving all this way.”

eren sat next to you as your mom began plating dinner, and called for your dad. “he’s napping again,” she muttered, calling for him louder this time. “m’coming hold on!” your dad yelled from upstairs, and eren couldn’t help but laugh at your parents antics.

your dad made his way downstairs, grinning when he saw eren. he bounded over to him, eren standing up as your dad pulled him for a hug, patting him on the back.

well, it was more like a slap on the back, your dad was pretty heavy handed. your father pulled away, still grinning, “how come you didn’t call me down earlier, i didn’t know eren was here,” “oh, hi dad,” you said jokingly, “yeah, yeah you too,” your dad teased, coming over to kiss you on the cheek.

your family sat with you and eren, asking the two of you questions about college and life. you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at how invested they were when eren would speak.

when dinner finished up, eren gathered the dishes from the table and headed towards the sink, “i’ll wash up,” he offered turning towards your mom who was already objecting, “the cook never cleans,” he stopped her before she could tell him no.

she laughed softly, patting eren on his back, “thank you, eren,” she smiled, “ya could rub off on this one a little, she hates doing dishes,” your mom pointed at you. you laughed at the insinuation. learn...from..eren ? if only she knew what he got up to.

“yeah, yeah, eren’s amazing,” you joked, your mom coming over to you. “your beds all made up, and i laid out a mat on the floor for eren,” “thanks mom,” you gave her a hug from your chair.

“you kids sleep good, see you in the morning!” she said, heading out of the kitchen. eren was still washing dishes as he spoke, “she laid out a mat for me,” he laughed softly, “think she knows that we practically share a room?”

you chuckled at that, standing up from your chair and walking over to the kitchen island and sink where eren was washing dishes. “don’t tell her, it’ll destroy her,” you joked, eren grinning at you.

you propelled yourself up on to the island, sitting on the island as you watched eren scrub one of the plates. “thank you,” you said softly, eren looking up at you.

“for what?” he asked.

“everything,” you answered.

“getting sentimental on me, huh?” eren teased.

“anddd the moment’s over,” you laughed softly, eren chuckling. “get back to scrubbing bus boy,” you nudged eren with your foot.

“oi!”

everytime you and eren visited home, you always split the trip in two. half of the time was spent at your house, and the other half was spent at his.

today was your second day at eren’s and carla was helping you build a charcuterie board for the family picnic. “i saw one on pinterest that included chocolate shaped as roses.”

carla gasped at that, layering the salami to create a flower shape, “that sounds like too much work,” “agreed,” you laughed softly.

the two of you began to pack the picnic basket with drinks and sandwiches, eren coming back inside from loading the car with sports balls and blankets.

he watched from the hallway as his mom laughed at a joke you made, and he couldn’t help the smile from breaking out on his face. he felt like a lovesick fool.

he decided it was time to announce his presence before he became anymore embarrassing, “car’s all loaded, ma,” he said walking over to the two of you.

“thank you baby,” she said, grabbing the picnic basket and handing it to eren for him to carry.

the car ride over was pretty short, and you and eren unpacked the car as zeke and carla laid out the blankets in the grassy field of the park. grisha was called in for a last minute surgery, so he couldn’t come with today. zeke was back in town visiting and he did not miss a beat on teasing eren for his crush on you.

after a delicious lunch, and many compliments from eren on yours and carla’s charcuterie board, zeke offered up the idea of basketball. you and carla had decided boys vs girls was the way to play, and the two of you quickly huddled up to devise a game plan.

the two of you also decided that girls should get the ball first, just because. the game started with you playing point guard and eren as your defender. he smirked at you as the two of you checked the ball.

should he go easy on you? nah.

he was right up on you, playing defense. and the way he towered over you was flustering you, but you needed to focus, you had a game to play!

you tried to get past eren, to no avail, but you were able to pass the ball to carla.

now, eren didn’t get his athleticism from nowhere. carla pulled it from the 3-point line, and it was a straight sinker.

you cheered loudly running over to carla as she brought you in for a big hug. you stuck out an L at eren, to which he shook his head softly, laughing.

“okay, c’mon then, get on defense n i’ll show you sumn’,” he said, voice low.

you and eren checked the ball, and you jokingly waved your arms up and down in a crazy manner. eren was quick to juke you out, it was embarrassing honestly, and pulled it from the 3 point line and sunk it.

it’s safe to say the rest of the game proceeded in a similar manner, zeke and eren developing a steady lead. at the end of the game you shook your head with joking mutters of “rigged,” and carla joined in with, “did you score the first point, though? nope.”

on the ride back home, carla rolled the windows down, and eren watched you from the other side of the backseat. you had yet to stop smiling the entire day, and so had he.

the walls of yours and eren’s apartment were very thin. and eren knew that. so when he decided to jack off at 5 pm when he “thought you weren’t home!”

was it intentional?

no way!

and when you sat on your bed, listening to eren’s pretty groans and whimpers that was in no way on purpose.

and when your hands began to trace down your body, unbuttoning your pants and sliding under your panties, it was just a coincidence that you happened to be doing it at the same time as eren.

and god, if his ears didn’t perk up at that first pretty sound you made. his hand stalled on his cock, needing to hear more. but as he went quiet, so did you.

he was guessing that you might of needed a little motivation. he began stroking his cock once more, moaning as he threw his head back at the image of you touching yourself in the room right next door.

and there you went. your soft moans, albeit muffled, were music to eren’s ears.

they were making him feel more and more bold.

“fuck, need you,” he groaned, thumbing at the slit of his cock with a whimper. he moaned again, tuning his ears in for what he hoped could be an unspoken reply.

“m all yours,” you whined and with two more strokes, eren was cumming with a loud moan and a couple curses. he could tell you followed soon after, listening to your whimpers increase in volume until...silence, and a short whine after.

the apartment was then dead quiet, neither of you moving or speaking. even your breath was soft and bated.

it seems both of you may have been tired of beating around the bush.

but, life went back to normal. neither of you made a move, and that shared moment of unspoken ecstasy went unmentioned between the two of you.

you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t disappointed, but you couldn’t expect eren to balls up and say something when you couldn’t either.

you were sitting in the passenger seat of eren’s two-seater pick up truck as he drove down melone drive. the windy road lead to yours and eren’s favorite lookout. there was a small lake there that you and eren had found during highschool, and you’d been coming to it ever since.

it was so quiet out here, and that was one of the things you and eren loved about it. it was only the two of you out here.

and it never had to be anything else.

you grabbed your towel out from the bed of the truck as you unbuttoned your shorts. eren leaned on the hood of his truck laughing softly, “already?” he joked.

you turned to look at him over your shoulder, grinning, “i wanna swim c’mon ren!”

your shirt was next, and eren had to look away. he peeled of his white cotton t-shirt, already in swim trunks as he followed you into the water. he watched as you floated on the surface, looking up at the crescent shaped moon.

mesmerizing. that’s all eren can think when he looks at you. he’s so captivated by everything you do. and now he’s coming closer to you as you stand upright. the water’s still shallow here and your feet plant at the floor of the lake.

“ren, what’s wrong?” you ask as eren stops in front of you, just looking down at you.

“i-” he huffs out a breath, looking down at the water that’s reflecting the light of the moon. “i can’t do this anymore, y/n,” he looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“huh? can’t do what? eren, if you don’t wanna swim, we can get out now.”

eren shakes his head with a mutter of “s’not that.”

his heart is beating so fast, it feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. he thinks about the moments he’s had with you in all his years of knowing you. he thinks of every laugh of yours, of each fight, of every shared moment of eagerness for more.

and then, he thinks about all the new moments he wants to have with you. he wants to know what it’s like to love you. he wants to be with you in every way. he wants to wake up to you in the morning and kiss you. he wants to cook for you and spoil you with gifts. he wants to marry you and watch you grow full with his kids. he wants to have a life with you. he wants to know what it's like to give you all his love, to give you everything he’s worth.

he hopes his words can convey that.

“i can’t beat around the bush anymore. we’ve bee playing this game for 9 years and i can’t anymore.”

“eren, what are you saying?”

“you have to know i love you, y/n. you know, i thought the way i looked at you would be enough for you to know i love you. you can’t see how i look at you? i can’t ever tear my eyes off you n’ i’ve never wanted to.”

eren’s panting now, and his heart beat is still so quickened, “i want to hear everything you have to say. i tease you so much cause’ hearing you laugh makes everything better. you make everything better. you’re what i think about as soon as i wake up, and you’re my only thought as i fall asleep.”

you’re watching him with watering eyes now as he continues, “and i-” he’s huffing out another breath, “i can’t, i can’t just be friends with you anymore, y/n, i thought i could but i can’t. and i’m sorry if that puts you in a weird position, but i needed you to know how i feel because i just can’t take this anymore.”

eren stops there, and he feels as though he has to manually force himself to breath. he watches you, watches one tear trickle down your cheek before you jump up and wrap your arms around his neck.

he’s quick to catch your legs and he listens to you sniffle into his shoulder. “ren’,” you hiccupp, “i love you n i always have.”

he’s holding you tighter at your words. eren doesn’t ever want to let you go and now, he knows he never will. you pull back to look at eren and his eyes are watering too.

you bring one hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb against his skin softly. your lips are gravitating towards one another, and they meet, hesitantly, before you’re falling, plummeting into one another.

you’re breathing one another in, your lips moving in dance as eren’s grip on you tightens. your hands are drifting to his hair now and eren’s moaning into your lips.

you pull away breathless, panting into eren’s lips, “i need you, ren.”

your words are all eren needs to start walking out of the lake, with you still wrapped around his figure. he’s glad there’s already a blanket laid in the bed of the truck as he sets you down on the edge of the bed.

he’s leaning over you and kissing you, his hands holding your cheeks tenderly.

you’re smiling that beautiful smile of yours as you pull away and scoot further into the bed of the truck. you begin to giggle as eren makes his way over to you and now he’s laughing too.

eren’s lips are on your neck now and he’s blessed with finally hearing the sounds of your pleasure up close. he’s fiddling with the top of your bikini and you’re leaning up to quickly undo the clasp.

nothing could have prepared eren for this moment. he’s known his whole life that you were breathtaking but seeing you in this manner was the final nail in his coffin.

your pretty nipples were hard from the night air, and eren went with his first instinct and wrapped his lips around one. you were moaning now and your hands were gripping eren’s hair and undoing his messy hair bun.

his fingers twisted and flicked your other nipple and now eren was pulling away from your chest. he was grabbing your breasts, squeezing them in his hands as he licked his lips.

“so fucking beautiful,” he was muttering into the skin of your stomach as he began kissing down your body. eren’s legs were hanging off the edge of the bed of the truck, and his feet were brushing the grass, but he couldn’t find it in him to care as he was met with your body.

he tugged the bottoms to your bikini down your legs. you were getting shy now, eren could tell but he wasn’t going to have any of that. “nuh’ uh, open up, angel,” eren was saying breathlessly.

he was met with the sight of your dripping center. you were visibly needy, your clit pulsing and puffy. “you need me here?” eren asked, running a finger through your slit. “y-yeah ren! need you so bad,” you whimpered, running eren’s hair through your fingers.

he couldn’t hold off anymore, he needed to taste you. his tongue jutted out to lick up the arousal drooling down your slit, and you were yelping at the feel of eren’s tongue.

he chuckled before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. you were a mess now, squirming and moaning as you gripped onto eren’s hair, which had him moaning into your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your system.

“ren’! m’ i’m gonna cum!” you were panting, eren’s hands holding onto your hips to stop you from running away. “c’mon then, baby, lemme taste you, i need it,” eren was mumbling into your clit.

one more suckle onto your bundle of nerves and you were falling apart on eren’s tongue. he didn’t waste a drop, moaning as he worked you through it, his hand rubbing soft circles into your hip as you came down, eren still leaving soft kitten licks at your clit.

he pulled away when he could tell you were sensitive and stood up from the bed of the truck. he was peeling off his swim trunks, his cock springing free and hitting against his toned abdomen.

he had never been this hard in his life.

your eyes were glued to his lower body as eren chuckled making his way back into the bed of the truck. his hand came to the back of your head, the two of you sitting up as he pulled you in for another kiss.

a string of spit connected your lips as eren pulled away. “lay down for me,” eren told you, his hand cradling your head. eren was leaning over you now, one hand holding the rim on the bed of the truck to keep him towering over your figure, the other grabbing around the base of his cock.

he started to tease the tip through your folds, relishing in the way you’d jump when he brushed against your clit.

“are you ready?” eren said softly, looking at you for any sign of hesitation. “m ready ren’,” you pecked him, “are you?” you teased.

“born ready,” he joked the two of you laughing. though, as eren’s tip nudged against your entrance, neither of you felt like joking anymore. his tip was going into your tight hole and you were wincing at the stretch of his girth.

“you alright?” eren asked, stopping. “m good,” you breathed, “your just big, ren’.”

eren knew he had a big cock, but hearing you say it made him twitch. “tell me if you need to stop,” he groaned softly, pushing into you more. eren caressed you through the stretch of his cock, cooing sweet nothings in your ear until he finally bottomed out.

“fuck,” he groaned, stilling inside the warmth of your cunt. your walls were squeezing down on him, “trying to milk my cock n’ i’ve only been in you for two minutes,” eren moaned.

you were a mess. you couldn’t cope with the size of eren’s cock, with the way his tip was barely brushing against your cervix. “need-need you to move,” you whined, your nails raking down eren’s back.

“you sure?” he asked, running his hand down the curve of your side. “m’ sure, please, ren’.”

that’s all eren needed to pull back from the warmth of your insides and slam back in. you both moaned loudly at that, pushing each other more and more down the path of complete ecstasy with each thrust. “so-so good for me,” eren’s voice broke.

your nails were raking down eren’s back harder, breaking the skin, and the pain was making him wince and moan. “fuck never want anyone but you,” eren groaned, grabbing at one of your tits.

“gonna fill you up n’ make you mine, you want that, baby?” eren was slamming into you now, your hips turned up as he folded your legs towards your shoulders, his hands holding the back of your knees it.

“need it, ren!” you were crying now, moaning loudly. “gonna give it to you,” eren panted, “but i need you to cum first. need you to cream all over this cock, make it yours.”

his words were enough to send you over the edge, your cum spraying on the base of eren’s cock and his abs.

feeling you pulse on his cock and watching your pretty eyes flutter close as your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure had eren filling you up. he came deep iside you, his load coating your walls white.

the both of you panted as you came down, and you pulled eren in by his neck for a deep kiss.

“i’m gonna need a plan b tomorrow,” you laughed, moaning softly at the warmth of eren’s cum inside you. “i’ll set a reminder,” eren chuckled, “i meant what i said, i do wanna watch you get full with my kids, but maybe just after college.”

you laughed softly after that, pulling eren in for another kiss.

“i love you, ren,”

“i’ll love you forever.”

fin

thank you for reading! this is the slowest slow burn fic i’ve ever done so i hope you guys enjoyed! please reblog to show your love n i hope you all have an amazing rest of your day or night or afternoon or whateva <333

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wildestaugust · 2 years ago

Text

Call it What You Want • M.V

summary: reader has 'the talk' with Max, then spends the whole day teasing him until he's had enough.

author: I've had this Max oneshot for a few months (which I made due to a very special request form a mutual here) and I just want to clarify that I'm no longer taking MV requests unless it's something very specific considering I'm not inspired by him at all. — just felt I had to say that and that I'm taking requests rn for the other drivers I write for!

warnings: smut, fluff, breeding kink, mentions of childhood trauma, unprotected sex, rough sex, +18.

There was no better feeling than the week off after a grand prix. Having Max back after a tough race in Baku meant staying at home doing nothing too productive; they hated being apart so he liked to make the most of it by sleeping, watching a film or just going out on dinner dates. This time around, however, they were flying to Amsterdam for Victoria's —Max's sister— birthday which fell perfectly during his days off.

The trip back to his hometown was a special one since they were also going to meet their nephew. Victoria had given birth to another boy and due to Max's schedule, they weren't able to be there for his birth, specially when she was going to be the baby's godmother. When he finally found the right time to spend his week off in Amsterdam, it was a no brainer for both of them to just immediately fly out there.

"I can't wait to meet Lio!" she said while on the plane. "Do you think they'll like the basket we brought them? It has everything, clothes, pacifiers, socks..."

"Don't worry, Victoria will love it, after all you're fantastic at everything you do." Max assured her, kissing her bare shoulder.

"Ugh! I'm just nervous, he's my first godson and I want it to be special." she rested her head on his shoulder while he caressed her cheek.

"You'll be fine, this is my second nephew and I'm as nervous as you." Max admitted laughing, trying to calm her down.

"Well, you're not the baby type at all but, you know how to hold them, at least that's what I imagine due to your experience with your little siblings and Luka."

"Yeah, but I'm still terrified of them, Jay was a menace when she was a toddler." They laughed.

They rarely talked about having kids, even though they had been dating since they were twenty-one and pretty much were going to get married at some point. The baby talk wasn't important, although some of their friends had started to have them and they asked the inevitable question of 'when will you have one?'.

Seeing Victoria —who was two years younger than her— having her second child, sort of changed her views on motherhood, she wanted to be a young mom as well but Max's reasoning for not having children at that time was very understandable, he would want to be present and with his job it would be a difficult task to fulfill.

Something he didn't spoke much about was the way his father treated him when he was young. As a young karting driver his father used to be tough on him. She was the only person —besides his mom and sister— whom he trusted enough to open up about those childhood moments, which made it all more personal. Being aware of those insecurities just made her want to make him feel more loved; she wanted to assure him he would do great if he ever wanted to have children of his own and that whatever happened to him, while being young, didn't necessarily defined the rest of his life.

"Do you think I'd be a good mom?" she asked; that wasn't a conversation to have at that moment, however, the question came up so natural to her that it was inevitable not to ask it.

"Is this a sort of set up to talk about having kids, again?" he asked, making her roll her eyes.

"It's just a question!" She replied while intertwining their hands.

"Honestly? You'd be perfect, you do a great job with the cats." he jokingly said, making her laugh. "Now being serious but, if how you treat me is half as how you'd treat a kid of ours, then you'll be an exceptional mother."

Max felt every single one of those words deeply. When he wasn't on the race track, she was the one by his side, celebrating if it was a win, comforting him if the race didn't go his way and uplifting him when the season wasn't how he planned it to be. Those things meant the world to him and, it was no secret to him that she desired a family with him.

He loved how much fun they were having since they moved in together; traveling to the races, spending the weekends either on a boat in St. Tropez or partying on their favorites clubs in Monaco, amongst the more mundane things that would change drastically with a baby.

"You're an expert at making me emotional!" she said rolling her eyes. "I love you."

She slept with her head on his shoulder for the majority of the flight, while Max kept thinking about what they had talked earlier, clearly there was a lot going on inside of him.

—

They arrived at noon to their apartment which, thankfully, was near Victoria's place. She knew his sister had gone beforehand to clean the place when she found a little note where she simply wrote 'welcome <3 my lovebirds!'.

"Look at this! That's so nice of her, I hope it didn't take her much of her time." she said as she laid on the bed with her boyfriend.

"Oh don't worry, someone else came. I just didn't want you to bother on doing chores since we'll be here for just a few days before we go to Austin." he explained.

"That's great." she replied kissing him.

"I'm so tired." he said with his face buried on her neck. "Can you tell my mom i'm jet lagged?"

"Come on! they haven't seen you in months." she replied shaking her head.

"But I want to fuck you." he then said with his hand on her waist.

Max longed to touch her after he came back from Azerbaijan, and since he had arrived late at night, they didn't have much time for themselves as they were leaving for Amsterdam early in the morning. They had done it a few times on his plane, however, he didn't want to bother her earlier as she slept throughout the whole flight.

Before his hand could reach her underwear, she stopped him by placing her hand on his crotch. While she lightly stroked him, she could feel how hard he was; max was always rough in bed but, when he was needy, he was all about letting her do her thing.

"Fuck, you're so hard." she said while unzipping his pant.

"That's what you cause on me, schat." He replied while he kissed her neck.

"Does it feel good? Touching you like this?" she innocently asked while she stroked his balls for a moment.

"Yeah it fucking does, princess." He moaned. "Are you going to let me fuck you?"

She let out a laugh while she made direct eye contact with him. The neediness in his blue eyes was showing, he was desperate to take off her clothes and fuck her relentlessly, however, he wasn't aware that she had other plans, that he may or may not like.

"I tell you what..." she pressed her finger on the head, sending him over the edge. "If we go now to your sister's place, I suck you and then we can fuck all night long if you want."

"What if I don't want to?" he said.

"Then... good luck getting off." she replied. As soon as she stopped, Max wanted to shout.

He put his hands on his face groaning in resignation as he had no other choice, she left him on the bed like a mess. Max vowed to make her regret that on the night but, for the moment being, he would play it cool, specially since they were going to visit their nephews.

After a few minutes, he came out of the room, finding her sitting on the living room with her purse and their gifts to the kids. She had quickly changed her clothes, however, she liked to tease him and he clearly knew that was what she was doing in that moment.

"I quickly got changed because I wanted to use these new boots, do I look good?" She asked getting up. Her black blouse fitted her like a glove and he had to stop thinking about all he wanted to do before he got hard again.

"Yes." simply said with a smile. "I'll carry the gifts to the car, those look a bit too heavy for you." He added.

"I hope you're not mad at me." she commented with a grin on her face. If you only knew, he thought.

"Why would I? it's not like I won't fuck you tonight." he cockily said while smiling.

Without saying anything else, they exited the apartment as Max carried all the gifts. Aside from what had happened, he couldn't wait to meet his newest nephew. He was surprised when during the summer break his sister had asked both of them if they wanted to be Lio's godparents, he missed his family a lot during those long seasons so, having that big responsibility with his nephew meant the world to him because he'd have a reason to spend more time with them.

Amsterdam was where all his friends and family were, going back always made him happy; even if he didn't grow up there, he remembered all the road-trips back and forth from Hasselt and, although the memories with his dad were bittersweet, he would never forget the weekends when his mom used to buy him and his sister ice creams; the days where they would go inside a bookstore and buy thousands of stickers that he would end up giving to Victoria and those few moments between his karting career that reminded him of a childhood he never really enjoyed but rather one he somehow had.

He dreamed of a day when he could finally move back but, to do that, he knew that he either had to retire or have his own family; the former being an unrealistic possibility for at least the next three years of his career while the latter simply frightened him, perhaps due to his own experience.

—

The car ride was very quiet as neither of them spoke. She assumed he was giving her the silence treatment, which was entertaining to her because he couldn't stay angry with her for longer than 2 hours. Reuniting with his family was all she was thinking about, she'd deal with Max later that day.

The ride was short as Victoria's house was just 4 blocks away from their apartment. Every time they went back to Amsterdam, she realized how isolated they were in Monte Carlo. She'd love to have their families at a walking distance but, that was Max's job and she really couldn't complain because they enjoyed their life in Monaco.

After they got out of the car, she took some of the presents while Max carried the heavier ones and, just before they could ring the doorbell, he leaned closer towards her, so close she could hear his breathing.

"Good luck thinking you got away with it." he whispered right before he rang the doorbell twice.

"Is that a threat?" Max was about to answer when the front was opened by his mom.

"Guys!" Sophie hugged her immediately with the biggest smile on her. Her bond with his mom was quiet special; she had known Sophie for as long as she knew Max which translated to more than two years, and throughout all that time, she had treated her like a daughter.

It was at Sophie's house where she met him; max had arranged a small party with his friends shortly before the end of the 2019 season. She went to that party with her friend who used to date Max's best friend; the connection was almost instant considering she was one of the few people there who weren't interested to talk about motorsport with him, she came from a racing family so it wasn't exactly the type of conversation she was striving for. They bonded over Max's love for football despite the fact that he was a Barça fan while she had been raised her whole life as a madridista, which wasn't a surprise for her considering he was dutch and, almost every single dutch person worships Johan Cruyff.

Sophie gladly welcomed them in. As they walked, they saw Victoria in the living room with Lio on his bassinet while Luka was playing with his toys on the carpet. The younger of the Verstappen's —immediately— got up to greet her warmly with a hug.

"Binkie!" Victoria smiled. "Aaaw! i'm so glad you guys are here."

"Me too, I couldn't wait any longer to meet Lio!" she said as her eyes went to the tiny baby laying on the bassinet next to them.

"He's awake, you should pick him up!" Her sister-in-law suggested.

When they turned to get Lio, her eyes went instantly to Max, basically sitting on the floor, kissing and hugging Luka, who giggled as his uncle tickled him. It was such a heartwarming moment to watch, Luka and Max had a very special nephew-uncle bond and it was beautiful to witness it since the birth of the boy.

"I see Max found his clone." Victoria commented, joking on the incredible resemblance her kid had to his uncle and grandpa.

"I missed you little one!" Max said as he picked him up on his arms. "Every time I see him, he gets bigger and bigger."

While Max gushed about Luka, she sat on the sofa as she waited for Victoria to put the newborn on her arms. She smiled when she finally saw the baby, he wore a white onesie while wrapped carefully on a baby blue blanket, and as Victoria gave it to her, she noticed he had his mother's eyes, which were also Max's.

"He's so dreamy." she softly spoke, not wanting to disturb the baby at all. "Hi sweetie, i'm your auntie!" carefully with her fingers, she caressed his cheeks.

"You both look so beautiful, i'll take a picture." Sophie said enthusiastically as she took out her phone.

Max was completely hypnotized as he looked at her. It was very out of character from him to play fake scenarios in his head, however, the intrusive thoughts of her having their kids was too hard to resist. He saw a smile on her that he hadn't seen before, he didn't know whether it was genuinely her or just his mind conveniently tricking him.

"Max, do you want to hold him?" she asked smiling.

"Of course." He replied, handing his older nephew to his sister. He sat next to his girlfriend and she carefully placed him on his arms, making sure he was holding him right. Max smiled as he looked at Lio.

"He's perfect!" she added while kissing him softly.

—

Sophie had prepared Max's favorite pasta which consisted of feta cheese and tomatoes; to know Max, it meant that you knew his weakness was Italian food, in fact, their first date had been at an Italian restaurant near the Amsterdam canal which wasn't that far from their current apartment.

They all ate together, with Luka sitting on Max's lap as the little boy couldn't seem to separate from his uncle. The image of both of them was simply adorable.

"It looks good on you, maybe you should give him a cousin." Victoria commented, looking at Max.

"Jimmy and Sassy are their cousins!" She jokingly replied, making all of them laugh.

"Well, we should see what the future holds, there's no rush, right?" Max added while holding her hand.

"Yeah, besides, I'd love for us to be nearer when that happens, this seems like a good place to raise kids." she explained.

"Yes, I really don't like monte carlo at all if you're having kids, you either raise them here or you homeschool them there." Sophie commented taking another sip of her wine.

Max barely had any school time as he spent the majority of his childhood competing in karting across europe so, it was understandable for his mom to care for his future grandchildren's education as she really didn't want him to make the same mistakes she did when she raised him, although Max never blamed his mom for his difficult childhood.

"Well, good thing is... we've got plenty of time to worry about that, I really don't think we'll always live there." Unintentionally, they were agreeing on something very important for both.

"Well, everything comes at the right time, doesn't it?" Victoria replied. "I'm just glad you guys make time to visit us here, specially in the middle of the season." she smiled.

"I'll make sure we come more often, don't worry about it!" she responded smiling at Max.

Once they were done, they all went back to the living room. The conversation drifted to how the season was going and how challenging would it be for him to get the title even though he had a comfortable lead at the moment. Sophie and Victoria were planning to attend the French grand prix since it fell on the day of Luka's 2nd birthday, besides, they would be joined by Tom —Victoria's partner—, who wasn't with them that night since his flight from rome to amsterdam got delayed.

She went upstairs for a moment to Luka's room to get the pacifier her sister-in-law had left on the changing station table. As she turned around, she was surprised to see Max entering the room and closing it almost immediately.

"I thought you were mad at me, maxie." she said smiling.

"I still am, and I can't help but notice you're wearing my favorite skirt, mijn liefde." He said while his fingertips played with the hem of the skirt.

"Oh so you have a favorite skirt? I didn't know." she asked, playing it dumb.

"I love how you parade around in these whenever you tease me." He added.

"And what if i told you I'm not wearing anything under it?" That wasn't a lie, he just was too mad earlier to notice it. Max's hand almost pulled off the skirt but she was quick to stop it. "I suggest you let me go downstairs as if nothing happened and then we can leave... if that's what you want, of course."

"You're getting too cocky." he said faking a smile.

"Out of all the places I'd love for you to fuck me, our nephew's nursery isn't even on the list." she added as she opened the door.

She left the room to quickly rejoin Victoria and Sophie downstairs. When they asked why she had taken so long, her excuse was that she got a bit of a headache so she had to lay down for a bit, to which they immediately shared their concerns.

"It must be the jet lag kicking in." Sophie commented. "Do you want a pill?"

"No, it's okay, it's probably nothing!" She said as Max walked back into the living room completely confused on what was going on.

"What's happening?" he asked, clearly confused as he had been with her just five minutes earlier.

"She's got a headache." His sister replied.

"Oh... are you okay?" He replied confused, yet to realize what she was doing.

"Yeah i'm fine, I just told them it's the jet lag, we've been awake since this morning so it's probably the exhaustion kicking in." she added with a grin. "We just need to rest a bit, don't we, Max?

All the pieces fell into place for Max as soon as he noticed the way she addressed him. They had played games like that before, however, it was the very first time he had no idea of what she was doing.

"Of course! why don't you guys go rest? I think it's best so you can sleep properly, we've got plenty of time together." Sophie suggested. Max couldn't believe the stunt she was putting on, it came off very easy for her.

"I agree with mom, besides, we can all go tomorrow to take a walk downtown since Tom's arriving in the morning!" Victoria added.

"Sure, we would love that! right, max?" She asked getting up.

"Yeah, why not?" he replied smiling, trying to act like he didn't know what she was doing.

"Well, it's settled! Now, go home and relax." Sophie reminded them. "Besides you still need to visit your father; there's plenty of stuff you need to do and you need enough energy for that." she added while looking at Max.

After a few minutes of saying goodbye, making sure Luka didn't realize they were gone since he'd cry, Sophie advising her what pills to take and Victoria reminding Max to pick up their little sister earlier, they had finally walked out of the place.

"Nice stunt you put out earlier." he commented as they got inside the car.

"It worked, that's all that matters, right?" she replied with an innocent smile.

"I suppose it is." He replied.

While he drove, her hand softly stroked his hair. He hadn't had a haircut in over a month so it was longer than usual which she liked a lot since it made it more satisfying to run her fingers through his hair, plus, it suited him. She wanted to persuade him into letting it grow a bit more.

"Can you let it grow for a few more weeks?" she asked with a grin.

"Would you like that?" he teased with his hand pressing her tight. "I feel you need to earn that."

"Oh, Really?" she replied with her hand pressing his crotch. "Do I need to suck you?"

"You need to do more than that, darling." he said while his hand kept pressing her tight, brushing his long fingers against her soft skin.

—

Few minutes went by and they had arrived to their building. Something he loved about that place was the large window they had on their living room which overlooked the city's canal, both of them were keen on having a fantastic view from their penthouse, it also was majestic while he fucked her since their room also had a big view.

As soon as she pressed the button to their floor, he threw his arms around her and kissed intensely her neck. Max had waited so long to finally get what he wanted since the afternoon, specially when he had to endure watching her walk around with that skirt during those last few hours.

"Max... fuck!" she moaned while his hand went inside her skirt, his fingers lightly touching her entrance, confirming what she had told him before.

"So no panties... you've been a very naughty girl today." he said devouring her lips until the elevator doors opened again. As soon as they got inside the apartment, he pinned her against the nearest wall, his hands going under her blouse to massage her boobs while kissing her.

His lips went further down her neck, making sure he left marks all over it, to let her know, once again, she belonged to. As he was too busy sucking her sensitive skin, she tried to find some stability through the grip her fingers had on his hair while letting out whines the longer Max sucked her neck.

"I want to suck you, please." She begged.

"I'm afraid tonight it's about you, I need to fuck some manners into you, don't you think?" he explained with a mischievous smile.

"But... I really missed this, I want your cock in my mouth." Her incessant begging made him even harder.

He enjoyed how eager she was; his ego was flying across the room as he wrapped his arms around her tights, sucking them as he made his way to her entrance. She gripped onto the bedsheets tightly as her back arched due to Max's position between her legs.

"You'll be the death of me, baby" she mumbled. He loved when she called him by all the pet names she had for him, that was his soft spot and she knew how to use it to her advantage.

Max was known by many people as a reckless driver with a strong personality and, on the bed, it wasn't any different; he liked to be rough after certain time apart, he wanted to be in control as much as he was inside his car, even more when she acted like a brat and, fortunately for him, that day she had ticked all the boxes.

He licked a stripe through her folds, groaning as he noticed how impatient she was growing as he pleased her. He couldn't hold himself anymore, he wanted to feel her as much as he could, so that's exactly what he did. His tongue swirled inside of her while her legs were shaking, she let out another moan as he deepened his movements.

"Mijn liefje, i need you to stay still for me." He said while his hand traced circles on her middle. "Be good for me."

"Yes, I promise." she replied almost through a whimper.

Laying naked in bed had her moaning endlessly. Max had many ways to show how much he had missed her, the most telling one, was always the sex. That night was no different, she felt a sort-of shine on his eyes while he focused on pleasuring her as much as he could; certainly, they both needed to release all that steam, specially after leaving him all alone earlier. She was lying if she said she wasn't turned on before they left the house, however, she was aware of how good the sex was when she spent the day teasing him.

He slide a finger through her folds which made her tremble while her moans filled the room. Max tried not to give in yet since he wanted to hear her beg for it, however, her wetness was such that he felt the need to see her cum all over his mouth, clearly, he wanted to make her feel good but also to get what he felt entitled to earlier that day.

"Do I make you feel good, liefje?" He asked, introducing another finger which sent waves of pleasure all over her body.

She couldn't make out the words as his fingers moved with such ease; he knew her body very well, what she liked, what she didn't, what would put her on edge. As his fingers relentlessly fucked her, he had his eyes set on her, he wanted to see in real time how she crumbled at his touch.

"Use your fucking words." he encouraged with a smirk on his face.

"Yes! You make me feel so fucking good." she replied breathlessly.

"You're mine, all mine." he said with such possessiveness that almost made her come undone. Her legs trembled as she couldn't hold her high for much longer, she needed to cum.

Max knew she was close, for which he simply increased his pace while his mouth left marks all over her middle, being aware that in the morning her whole body would be scattered with red and purple marks. His cock was twitching inside his pants, not wanting to wait any longer to have it inside of her.

"Cum all over my fingers, let go." he said, and that was all it took for her to have, perhaps, one of the best orgasms she's had in weeks; it was always like that whenever they hadn't seen each other in a while, however, that night was something else.

She was a mess as she came, clenching around his fingers as her whines were the only sound coming from the room. Max groaned as he looked at the mess he had caused; he had the biggest smile on his face as he licked his fingers without breaking eye contact, wanting her to see how she tasted.

"My girl tastes so good." he said as he slammed his mouth against hers. She licked her own cum from his lips as it was all over hers; his tongue had her whining and sending her over the edge as she still wanted to have him inside of her. Her hands went quickly to his pants, and as she tried to unbutton it, he stopped her of doing so.

"I want to make you feel good, I haven't even congratulated you for winning." she said while caressing his cheek.

"You do make me feel good, lieverd" Max replied just before sucking her neck, leaving another trace of him on her skin. "But I want you bouncing on top of me, would you like that?" He asked.

He took off the last item of clothe he still had on, discarding it somewhere in the room which was already a mess considering their clothes were scattered on the floor.

Shifting positions, he smirked at the sight of her, naked, on top of him ready to ride him but, what he hadn't notice at all was the gold necklace she was wearing; he gave her that on their anniversary earlier that year, it had his name engraved at the front while their anniversary date was on the back.

"You look absolutely beautiful with my name on your neck" he mentioned as his fingers touched the piece of jewelry hanging around her neck, with a lustful look on his eyes while detailing it. "Do you ever take it off?"

"I would never, that's my way of having you close when you're not here" she replied, leaning close to his ear, "To feel you during the lonely nights when I've got no other option but to touch myself." If that didn't send Max to edge, nothing would've. He adjusted himself inside of her; a groan leaving his lips as she sat on him, moving slowly around his cock.

As red bull's golden boy, he was used to be in control of everything, to have everyone and everything work around him, so nights like these were exactly what he liked after bossing everyone from thursday to sunday; having his girlfriend on top of him while his hands could rest on her ass or, having his mouth all over her tits, were some of the things he was so used to that, he wouldn't change for anything else.

"You take my cock so well, prinses" he groaned, slapping her ass.

The feeling of his skin slapping against hers, filled the entire room with grunts and moans from both of them. His hips moved upwards, keeping up with her pace as his hands slapped her cheeks constantly, almost certain that by the morning she'd wake up covered by marks all over her body; with the physical reminder of him which should last her a couple of days. As she increased her pace, she leaned forward, causing Max to suck one of her tits while her hands gripped onto his shoulders.

"It feels so good... Don't leave me again for that long" she mentioned, causing him to run his fingers through her damp hair with a smirk on his lips.

He had missed the sex, the intimacy, the closeness of their skins as he pounded inside of her, those sounds that escaped her lips which were exclusively for him. Their relationship was indeed so much more than sex, however, nothing beat the feeling of coming back from a tough weekend and knowing she was waiting for him; perhaps it wasn't entirely the sex what he longed, instead, it was the assurance that there was someone waiting for him at home that, whether a race went right or wrong, was there to comfort him if he needed to.

"I won't, trust me, schatje" he reassured with a smile as his arms wrapped around her middle.

"You're driving me nuts, max" she said in a thin voice.

"You've been a very naughty girl" he replied with a smirk "my beautiful naughty girl"

"Just for you, as always" she let out with a giggle.

"You're taking my cock so well, my sweet sweet girl" he praised. "I don't know what I did to deserve you" those words held a lot of truth.

All he had known for most of his life was the toxicity between his parents before and after their divorce, the same that made him live with his dad as he pursued his dream and, subsequently, made him grow apart from his mom and sister for most of his teenage days; growing up with toxicity around him, made Max think that, perhaps, he was better off on his own than being a carbon copy of his Dad with the way he handle his relationship with Sophie.

It took him a while to open up fully with her, however, he couldn't feel more lucky to have found someone on whom he could always rely on —just like she could rely on him whenever she needed to— and have a healthy relationship. According to him —and this was something he told his closest friend about once—, she changed the way he perceived love.

Her walls clenched around him, there was no denying that she was close to come undone at that point. She cursed his name out as her hips rocked back and forth against him, feeling all sorts of things as her orgasm started building up. She was seeing stars at that point; having max's mouth all over her tits, while his hands gripped onto her hips, sent an unmeasurable amount of pleasure inside her, especially when he knew her weaknesses and, in usual max style, played them against her perfectly.l

"I'm close" she said breathlessly.

"Do you want me to fill you up, liefje?" he asked almost in a whisper, knowing exactly that's what she wanted.

"You shouldn't play dumb with me, you know" she replied. "Please."

"I should fuck a baby into you, don't you think?" The words slipped up his mouth, however, he knew what he was doing; max thought again about the conversation on the plane, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about it as she moved up and down his cock.

Before she could say anything, he tightened his embrace around her middle, being at such proximity that her tits were pressed against his chest while his mouth left wet kisses all over her neck. Max was about to come undone when he placed his left hand on the side of her face, pushing back her messy hair in an attempt to let her have a better visibility of him.

"Let go." he whispered softly in her ear while his movements were nothing but rough.

As she gripped tightly onto his shoulders, they both came at the same time; her orgasm came crashing into her while he whispered in her ears words that were only between them, things that would always stay between those four walls. They shared a heated kiss as his hand rubbed her back, feeling her soft skin on his fingertips.

She laid her head on his chest, clearly exhausted by all that action since they had arrived. The comfortable silence ruled the room as they allowed themselves a moment of peace, however, that swiftly changed as she looked at him once again, ready to ask him about what he had said a few minutes before.

"You want a baby?" she said almost in a thin voice, which was perfectly audible for him.

"I mean... I don't see myself with anyone else" he confessed while he stroked her hair with a lot of tenderness "I'd love for you to be the mother of my children, lieverd"

"Oh, darling... I'd love that too" she said smiling as she drew small circles on his skin. "But are you thinking straight? I understand everything we talked abou to—"

"Yes, I am." Max was quick to cut her off, reassuring her about what he wanted "I've never been more sure about anything in my life and, I want to do it with you"

She pressed a soft kiss on his chest with a small smile on her lips; the hopefulness that filled her that night was unmeasurable, it meant everything to hear him say those words, specially when she knew it came with a lot of sincerity.

"Your Mom would love to have another grandchild!" he smiled while he drew small circles on her skin.

"Yeah, she would also want to live with us during the whole pregnancy" he joked.

Their future looked bright for many reasons but, the idea of a kid made it brighter and exciting. For her, it was a beautiful moment she was looking for, meanwhile, for Max, it was not only exciting but also, a way to finally break a cycle, have a family of his own and leave behind the demons of his childhood.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x oc #f1 smut #f1 one shot #max verstappen imagine #f1 imagine #max verstappen x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 fic

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bruciemilf · 2 years ago

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#like - ill be very transparent. sometimes i write fem bruce solely for harvey or clark eating pussy content KSKSKS #but thats very much achievable with trans bruce so

!!!!! ohhhh pleasepleaseplease give us a few headcanons/some content!! there's not enough trans!bruce out there esp. with harv and clark!

OH MANNN. MAN. MAN. so!! I don't know If you had a set preference between nsfw or sfw and/or harv an clark hcs,, so I think it'll be a mix for both!

Warnings/tags: Degradation, housewife kink, dirty talk, name calling, breeding kink, daddy kink mention, size kink

Transitioned early; Martha, Thomas, and Alfred were as discreet as a star family gets in Gotham City, where the media's eyes never shuts. Which is never enough.

They couldn't pay rich people, media people to ignore the Bruce before the Real Bruce. But if you cared about your life even a little bit, and you didn't want to die under Thomas' scalpel, you kept your mouth shut.

Bruce got in a stage where he was cis passing enough that people didn't think twice to call him a man; I feel like he grew up around healthy examples of masculinity, but when you're in college? You try to make up for your lacks.

There's a subgenre of sexism among men tbh, that its like, specifically To them; It's like, misogyny in the open, but they victimise eachother about it.

Bruce can't quite understand why drinking and hooking up and getting blasted without even worrying there's a pill in your drink is necessarily masculine. It's certainly a privilege, thought, and he's a bit (a lot) bitter abt it

Also most def carries testosterone shots on his batman belt that he accidentally injects instead of adrenaline like, all the time.

Oh, and testosterone and estrogen? Free in Gotham. Courtesy to Wayne Enterprises

Bruce not giving a wet fuck about gender norms in the slightest bit; He'll rock a coral pink tennis skirt and shiny, peach perfumed lip gloss.

He'll rock divine silk dresses. He'll look angelic with motor oil smudged on his cheek from breaking into the autoshop.

And he doesn't really care who has what to say about it, because Harvey Dent? Can't peel his eyes off of him, and that's enough of an achievement for Bruce.

(Nsfw HCs ahead!!!)

Harvey always always worries he might say the wrong thing; the wrong name, (they have a very soft spot for Princess and Baby)

Harvey calls him Baby Girl while Bruce worked him hard with his hand and mouth, dragging holy noises out of him with just a few tugs, and Harvey apologizes profusely

" My masculinity won't shrivel up and die because of a name, Harv. Even I'm not that fragile. "

Bruce is a big time virgin but no surprise there; Have you seen that man. He falls apart at a few words and gets wet so easily it's ridiculous.

Batman riding Harvey's thigh while he's supposed to interrogate him? It's more likely than you think

That being said, he's big on degradation; Harvey calls him a perfect little slut and Bruce's brain goes fuzzy and dim. I'm sorry, but Battinson has huge " pls just break me and take care of me after" energy I am PROFITING

With Clark it's almost the same, because personally? Mean Clark. Mean Clark who'll grip Bruce's diamond sharp jaw and make those strawberry lips pucker. Just to watch those pretty eyes roll back. " Aww. Are you that needy, darlin '?"

HARVEY AND CLARK AND BRUCE? biggest housewife kinks. I'm sorry, don't shoot the messenger, they SPECIFICALLY told me to tell YOU that they love Bruce in a pink apron, legs spread open on the kitchen counter while they're " having dinner"

THE BREEDING KINK???? Bruce rides the hell out Harvey/Clark, making an absolute mess on their laps, whining, squirming, sobbing up a storm because he DEF cries during sex, and he's begging so sweetly

" please-- please, can - can I have a baby? Please? Pretty please? For me, daddy? For daddy's little wife?"

He's very persuasive when he wants to be

And as the tags mentioned; Bruce has his legs spread open wide more often than not.

If he's not laying on his back, getting the soul slurped and licked and milked out of him, he's most definetly riding Clark's or Harvey's faces and I'll die on that hill.

Harvey/Clark love how fucking Big they are compared to him. They love Bruce is small enough to move around, but big amd strong enough to grope and manhandle. Praise kink is on Heavily. " That's a good boy. "

This man's pussy makes Harvey/Clark CRY. They're completely addicted to him. Bruce is all day everyday getting spread on princess pink sheets, lingerie shredded, heels digging in his partner's back and getting SERVICED like he deserves

Pillow princess 100%%%

He likes hard stuff, but he's Very fragile in the after-care process. He's ashamed of ask for it because he's affectionate, or starves for it anyway, and doesn't expect to receive it because he didn't until Then

But it's all so soft, after. Gentle kisses. Harvey/Clark carrying him around everywhere, not minding clingy arms or sharp nails squeezing their shoulders. They're happy to hold that big baby for hours

Gets the baby he wants but like. Of course it's conceived in the dirtiest baby making sex you'll ever hear of. RIP Harvey's old DA office/car and Clark's family barn

That's all folks!!!

#bruce wayne #nsft #trans bruce wayne #bottom bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #smut #harvey dent #clark kent #bruharvey #superbat #battinson

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onsunnyside · 2 years ago

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Bestie?? Babe?? My love??

JUST WATCHED GRAY MAN AND I HAVE A VERY SPECIFIC REQUEST!!!

Alright imagine this: Lloyd Hansen is a brat tamer. BuT—he fucking loves when reader is a brat. He low key encourages it. He’s all like “yeah? Tell me how much you hate me” and teasing like “you’re so cute when you pout. So cute and so dumb, baby.” and he just sits there laughing at readers brattiness/stubbornness and then BAM!! Total flip once she crosses the line and he’s dishing out a Lloyd Hansen specially served punishment 😎

Keep up the amazing work luvie ~ ✨🐰💕🎀

YESS !! BRAT SUPPORTER AND TAMER LLOYD HANSEN !!

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dad’s best friend!Lloyd Hansen x brat!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | age gap, size difference, mean daddy!lloyd, smut - minors dni, unprotected sex, mirror sex, rough sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation, dumbification, spanking, choking (mhm biceps), size kink, pussy slapping, dacryphilia, gagging (on fingers), breeding kink.

𝗪/𝗖 | 883

𝗔/𝗡 | he’s so condescending, i’m in love.

˗ˏˋ𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ♡⋆* 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

“Look at that cute fuckin’ face, you grumpy, baby?”

“S-Shut—uh!” You barely manage a grunt, the breath is knocked out of you with every rock of his hips. Your dress is half torn, the flimsy silk was paper in the older man’s hands, and now it’s just a mess of thread and straps.

In the reflection, you watch him pound into you. That familiar red flush spread down his face to his neck, disappearing under the collar of his tight shirt. His hair falls over his forehead as he groans lowly, gnawing on his lip as you clench around him. Your wetness smears down your thighs and his cock, forming a creamy ring around the thick base.

His belt jingles with every thrust, the metal is cool against your heated skin, and that burn only blooms brighter when his palm lands on your ass. “Awe, you pouting now? Wanna tell daddy what’s wrong?” Lloyd smirks, yanking you firmly against his chest, wrapping his arm around your neck. “Is it your make-up, baby? ‘Cause, it’s all ruined now that you’re cryin’ like a little dumb baby?”

At your choked moans, he flexes his bicep, filthily licking the side of your face. “So fucking good,” He rails into you, splitting your cunt apart on his girth, his heavy balls slapping against your swollen clit. “C’mon, use that pretty mouth for daddy.”

Your only response is a sob, your whole body convulsing as the fat tip rams into your sweet spot. Your knees go weak, the numbness climbing up your spine until you collapse lifeless into his chest.

Lloyd curses, “Oh, that’s the spot, huh? Dirty slut, you gonna cream for me while your dad’s downstairs? Cum all over my cock and let me pump you full, maybe I’ll even knock you up to teach you some responsibility.”

God yes, you wanted that more than anything, but you still had a party to host and you couldn’t do that with his seed dripping down your leg.

“B-But, you promised.” You gasp, tears trailing down your face, “Pull out, Lloyd, you said—”

“I said a bunch of things, I doubt you remember it all.” His bicep presses against your neck, hoisting you upright as his thrusts get rougher and further burn your knees on the carpet.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah? Keep sweet talking me, baby, and I’ll really fill you up.”

You tighten at that, if he hadn’t torn your favourite dress, you would’ve begged for his cum. “You fucking asshole. I’ll scream—” You’re cut off by the loss of air, your eyes shoot open and meet his gaze in the reflection.

His teeth are bared, sharp and shiny, like the ones of a beast preparing for a hunt. He doesn’t falter when your nails dig into his arm, “What was that?”

He chuckles when you struggle to breathe, and once he deems you’ve had enough, he loosens his hold. “Dumb little brat, can’t even speak.” Lloyd mocks, slipping his other hand between your legs to rub your clit. “Fucked too good, she can’t even think.” He releases you and you collapse onto the floor once again.

The carpet is still wet from your previous tears and drool, but you can’t bring yourself to care as he lands swats on your button. Your make-up is far beyond salvation, following the destruction of your dress, you know you won’t be returning to the party tonight. After this—after him, you won’t be walking straight for the next few days.

He’s so much bigger than you, so ravenous, you wouldn’t want him any other way.

He taps the side of your head, “mhm—yup, sounds empty.”

If you could, you’d smack him or say something that’ll knock him down a peg, but all traces of defiance are replaced by pleasure, shattering your world as you uselessly tug at the carpet.

“You’re so mean!” You whimper, reaching back to hit him but he grabs your arm and pins it behind your back. He uses the leverage to arch your back and present yourself to him, slamming balls deep into your wet cunt with enough force to jerk you closer to the mirror.

He leans down, his weight pinning you down. “And you’re a spoiled brat. Throwing a fucking tantrum because the waiters were wearing coral pink instead of peach pink? For that fit, you don’t deserve any attention tonight—you’re lucky I’m even here.”

You know that’s a lie. Lloyd wanted to come to your party, he even helped plan and cleared his schedule for the week to spend time with you, and your father, of course. Normally, you’d correct him, loving the pride that came with being right, all while he was wrong.

“Tell me how I’m being mean, baby. Mean daddies don’t even touch their girls when they misbehave—you’re a lucky one.” His big hand forcefully moves your head, and his fingers slip into your gaped mouth. You gag, saliva dribbling down your chin.

“You gonna apologize for being such a brat, pumpkin?” He slips them further down as your throat contracts, he’s trained you for this—by holding your head down on his cock and fucking your face. “No? Since you aren’t using your mouth, I’ll just keep it nice and full. Same with your pussy because I’m not pulling out.”

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cherryyysodapop · 2 years ago

Text

She’s Full of It | Eren Jaeger & a tiny bit of Jean Kirstein

*ೃ༄ A/N: First, I got this idea from the Eren figure, yk the one where he’s holding the little brown towel with his.. Second, I wanna say thank you all so much for 1000 kudos<33 I wrote this specifically for the occasion (Originally it was supposed to be 1000 words, look at us now) so I do hope you enjoy!THIRD AND FINAL, a note from my editor, “honestly, this is the best thing you’ve ever written” thank you, reinerzbongoz. much love to you.

*ೃ༄ NSFW Tags: Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex, Forced Eye Contact, Cock Warming, Exhibitionism, Praise Kink, Overstimulation, Squirting, Bathroom Sex, Quiet Sex, Breeding, No Pregnancy, Mirror Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Light Masochism, Sadism, Spit Kink, Organic Lube bc I love y’all, Creampie, Polyamory, Aftercare

*ೃ༄ W.C: 3.6K

*ೃ༄ Summary: I’m embarrassed to admit there isn’t one. This is purely 3 thousand words of smut. The storyline is very easy to miss.

You thank God there’s a faux mat in his bathroom.

You’re down on your knees in front of Eren, watching him rub himself through the towel around his waist.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you bat your eyelashes like the evil demon you are.

“Like that. It makes me wanna shove my dick in your mouth.” He runs his hand over the top of your head, palming down to the sides of your face.

“Do it.”

Eren unties the brown cloth, setting his mildly stiff dick free. He caresses his length in your face; his tip centimeters away from your nose.

You reach out to give him a hand but he swats you away, “Watch me first.”

His hands grip the base of his penis, and he strokes upward. You're fixed on his every movement; the way he looks at you when he gives it just the right amount of pressure, how it twitches when you lock eyes.

Eren grabs your head, forcing himself into your slackened mouth. You make gawk sounds around his length at his abrupt speed, and he hits the back of your throat.

Your eyes well with tears and you immediately go to brace yourself. Your hands brush the sides of his pelvis. Yet, again he nudges them away and pulls himself out.

“Just needed to get it wet,”

It glistens in your spit, and he smooths it in, using it as lubricant. Eren groans, stroking it faster than before. And you watch tentatively as thick pre-cum oozes out his sensitive tip.

It's right in front of you, creating a shadow over your face. So you do what any good girlfriend would do; stick your tongue out to lick him clean.

He moans your name under his breath, and slides his dick up the pad of your soft and exposed spit framer.

His hand claws at the counter behind him.

Eren hunches over you, his low lids hide the saturnation of his green eyes. Making them darken and dagger into yours. They don’t leave yours as he spits in your mouth. A few drops landing on your cheeks. It trickles down his tip and onto your tongue.

You’d swallow if you weren’t already full.

His eyes roll back and he hits the back of your throat again. And again. Fucking your mouth like he’d fuck your pussy.

“Ah, that’s it. Let me use you.”

You gag, and your nose smushes against the base of his cock. He shakes his torso, bruising your walls with his tip and making you bob your head on his cock.

“S’good.”

He stops guiding your head and you fall to the front of your legs.

Eren pumps himself to the sight of your gorgeous face. His hips buck forward on their own, trying to fuck his hand.

It makes you so much hornier to see him this way, all bent out of shape and lost in ecstasy. Your hand slips between your legs, giving your needy spot some attention.

You rub yourself to the sight of Eren; he towers over you like a skyscraper, groaning anytime you do anything.

You suck, he groans.

You lick, he groans.

You keep eye contact with him, he might just fucking sob.

You attach your lips to him, still allowing Eren to fuck his hand while you suck his twitchy tip. He doesn’t stop pumping himself, and your wet French-kisses on his dick almost push him to an orgasm.

“Okay–fuck–stop,” his voice breaking. He pulls his cock out of you and takes a few moments to catch his breath.

“What is it?”

He leans over to cup your face and kisses you. “You gotta cum first.”

He lifts you back onto the counter, grabbing the towel to wrap it back around his waist.

“What’re you doing?”

“Putting my towel back on.”

“No shit, Sherlock, why?”

He hides his face in his palms and squeals, “I’m embarrassed!” Slurring the last letter for dramatic effect.

For that, he earns a glare at him.

Sureee.

You're shifted up onto the counter by Eren’s grip at the back of your knees. Your tits squish into his chest as he embraces you, and your face falls above his pecs.

“Eren,” you kiss up his neck, droplets of water dissolve with your pecks.

“Mm?” he grinds his boner into you, hungry for friction but trying to keep his towel from slipping.

“We shouldn’t, Jean will be back soon–” you’re cut off by the sound of your own pleasure. Eren’s dick twitches behind the cloth at the thought; you two fucking in silence, hoping that Jean stays oblivious.

“Uh huh…”

He definitely did not hear you.

Eren traces the side of your torso sending goosebumps up your spine. His touch is soft, it feels innocent, though you know far better than to believe such a thing.

His lips press onto yours, deepening the kiss before it can start, the passion now laced with excitement. You have a plan, one so mischievous you can’t help the light feeling in your stomach. The thought of being caught by another man makes you want to fuck Eren more.

Something pokes at your entrance through the thick material you wish he’d rip off already. And normally, he would have by now.

Eren goes from tongue kissing to licking your tongue, playing with it in ways you didn’t anticipate. It twirls around yours, leaving his spit as a trademark inside you. It takes everything in you to stifle your moans.

His lips split from yours, and your mouth feels empty in the absence of his tongue sucking. Your eyes abandon Eren’s dull green pair to admire his red lips glistening with spit.

Eren bends down breath ghosting your ear, his damp shoulder length hair tickles your collar.

The same lust has rushed through him, you’re sure of that.

“He’s not here yet, beautiful, let me hear you.”

You know Jean hasn’t arrived, the problem is when he does; will you be able to shut up?

Kisses travel down your neck, towards your shoulder. So you humor him, let out a soft moan, one of the few you’re holding hostage.

He chuckles, a low pleased sigh. “That’s a start,” he stops to stare at you, trying to fight the smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I just need to rile you up some more, usually you��re such a good, vocal girl.”

You want to cover your eyes in embarrassment. Sure, you’ve seen him naked before, this time is just different. You’re still covered for the most part. The green lace of your bra is a big design within itself, and your underwear; while it is thin and lace, it’s full coverage.

Eren tears the brown cloth from his waist, setting his not-so-little erection free. To make the situation worse, he pulls you farther off the counter, lining himself up with your clothed clit.

The counter is the perfect height for you two. He doesn’t have to bend over or pull you upwards… Well, that would no longer apply if he pressed your back onto the surface and drilled into you—

You open your mouth to say something—anything, but quickly get cut off by a warm unexpected sensation. One that feels too damn good.

Eren rubs his pre-cum covered tip against you, soaking your panties in another fluid.

He keeps the pressure and direction steady with his right hand. The left travels up your body and uses little to no force to straighten your face to his.

Clinging to his chest and submitting, letting him fuck you until all your neighbors and Jean heard sounds more appealing than ever. Your pants heavy, and tears brim on your waterline; that’s what he likes.

“Yeah, keep giving me those desperate eyes.”

“There we go,” he starts a circular motion, rubbing your hidden clit with his cum as lube. “What can I do to get more of those pretty sounds outta you?”

You speak miles faster than you can think, panting out the first thing that comes to mind, “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, pretty girl. Where do you want me to touch you?” he doesn’t allow you to respond, rather opting to play a guessing game.

“Here?” he runs his fingers up your forearm, eyes never leaving yours. Even that, feels like you’re withering with any touch.

“Eren.”

He grips your thigh, and earns a subtle hip thrust. Even at work, it feeds his ego to know that your bodys’ drawn to his. That only makes your desperation here and now more shameful.

Eren reflexively presses further into you; his tip running up your slit, and applying the pressure you need to your aching clit.

“–Right there, don’t move!”

He obliges, returning to his original objective.

“I’m trying to please you, beautiful,” his cock stays pressing harsh motions into your bundle of nerves, while his hands stream down your bare leg. “Is this where you want to be touched?”

His hand leaves your hip and he lifts your leg around his lower back. Eren’s eager eyes meet your droopy pair and this time, he doesn’t go in for a kiss like you expect him to.

“You’re insufferable.”

“That’s because you’re the one here to suffer.” His hidden grin shines through the exasperating sarcasm.

The sound of the drawer underneath you rolling open is a startle.

Is he looking for a condom?

Then it hits you; you know exactly what he’s reaching for.

Within seconds, Eren peels back your drenched panties, and ice cold lube drips down your body… coating your cleavage down to your now exposed lower-half.

He massages it in, moving down your body with wet and patient hands. He worships you, oiling your stomach and waist, being sure not to miss a single curve on his way down.

Oil paints every visible patch of skin, and your body looks as if it's been glazed.

Not that there won’t be a chance for that.

This continues until he’s reached your clit, to which he brushes with something dissimilar to the chill of his lube.

It’s warm and slips against your exposed bud.

Shit.

You look down to see him dousing his penis in lubricant. The stream makes its way onto —into— your labia.

Just how wet is he planning to get you?

“Hurry up and fuck me already.”

His eyes leave your wetness, to meet yours. A wicked look smears over his face, and you think you see your oiled figure sparkle in his eyes through his lashes.

You don’t have time to prepare yourself for Eren shoving himself into you.

Fuck… You both look down at how the lubes’ coated your pussy. His length slips in and out of you, every thrust going deeper than the previous.

“Tell me what to do, baby, I’m all ears,” he keeps a constant pace, giving you slower, more humane strokes.

The lube gushes out like water at any movement. And Eren just can’t take it; he stares at his dick sliding into you, leaving strings of bodily fluids and lube every time he pulls out. It drips underneath you, and spills over your asshole and onto the bathroom counter.

“Just–don’t stop.” You dig your nails into the flesh of your own thighs. In hopes that it’ll avail some of your starved lust.

He chuckles, still mesmerized by the way you swallow and stick to him. “Surely, you want something else. Only one of us will be cumming if all I do is abuse your pretty pussy.”

“C’mon,” he cradles your chin with the pads of his fingers, forcing your head to stay straight as his eyes bore into yours. “Talk to me, baby.”

You can’t shake the chill it gives you. The look in his eyes is so domineering, and it’s so much hotter than it should be.

Eren shoves his dick in your waterfall for a hole. Pouring lube on the both of your pulsating sexs’ while he fucks you dumb.

“Fuck–Eren please–”

“‘Please..’” he waits for the rest of your disordered request, starting to pick up his stroke rate.

The sadistic asshole probably enjoys your strangled pleas, if he enjoys your pain (and he does), it’s not a far fetched assumption. The mockery of an innocent look he presents says it all.

Squelch slaps echo off the bathroom walls, and the pressure in your stomach gets more intense by the minute. Like you’re stuffed full and need a release.

“Play with my clit.” Your face flushes a flaming heat wave, and you thank God you aren’t facing the mirror.

Before he obliges, Eren adds more lube, making the process all the more slippery. His fingers glide across the bud, the wet and frosty liquid immediately enhances the experience.

The tangy smell isn’t your favorite, but the feeling makes up for it indefinitely.

Your muscles stiffen and your first reaction is to balance yourself, grabbing ahold of Eren; who’s still giving you moderate strokes.

Naturally, you want to cling onto him. Any part that you can get your hands on, yet you’re met with resistance.

Eren pins your arms behind you onto the cold, drenched surface with one hand, repositioning you with the other. You're pressed into the counter, lower half up, upper half resting on the mirror.

“Relax, baby–I got you.” He pounds you in your somewhat folded position, squishing more and more liquid out of you.

“Mm–fuck Eren, keep fucking me– just like that!” You mutter more nonsense after that, your mouth moves and your words come without permission.

“That’s my girl,” his fingers dig into the meat of your hip, trying to control your slippery body.

The more aggressive, the more waterworks… and the louder they are. Lube flies across his bathroom, leaving stains that’d be a problem later.

The bathroom has become your personal stage and the walls are your megaphones. It turns you on more, your moans grow with the smacks of colliding genitals.

“Wait,” a hushed moan interrupts you. “Was that the door? I think Jean–s’back.”

“You better cum now then.” He holds the lube above the both of you, pouring it while he thrusts into you.

His fingers never leave your clit, even though his strokes have taken an erratic turn. Broken whines slip through your barricade, it’s excruciating, that he’s waited all this time to get you so close. It’s almost like he was waiting for Jean to get back.

Eren just hums, groans slipping out when he isn’t careful. But Jean arriving doesn’t stop him from trying to fuck you into oblivion.

God, you aren’t sure whether you want Jean to find you or not. The mere suggestion takes over your mind.

Your hip feels lighter now that his grip is gone. You aren’t free of it for too long, though, that hand grasps your jaw. His lips inches away from yours, and his rapid breaths fan your chest.

“Hey–” he speaks into your face, eye contact not faltering one bit. His sloppy thrusts almost louder than his voice. “Don’t let Jean interrupt my time with you. If you wanna be loud. Be loud, baby.”

And you feel it again; the pounding pressure between your legs, begging to be released.

“Eren–”

The moment you cry out his name there’s a voice from outside the bathroom. No surprise that you completely drowned it out. So much for keeping your volume to a minimum, let alone being quiet altogether.

Holy fuck.

Your cry turns into a sob; Eren’s hitting all the right sensitive spots and your stomach starts to feel heavy, packed. Knots tie themselves into more knots, and just one more stroke may do it for you.

“There you go, let m’know who you belong to,” he squeezes his eyes shut and gives in to the sensation. His dick is throbbing so hard your cunt is probably shaking.

He’s ready to cum, so ready. The only thing he’s waiting for is you, and you aren’t far off at all.

Liquid squirts onto Eren’s torso, saturating his entire lower half. Spilling all over the counter, —and floor— high-pitched whines and moans slip through your lips. You’re in a daze, dizzy from an orgasm that vigorous and fighting to stay in control of your body.

“Holy shit. That’s a good girl. Fuck.” The words come out slurred as Eren’s body stills in yours.

He’s throbbing, sending vibrations through your pussy. Still, Eren doesn’t release inside you; he flips you over, and your face rests on the dry end of the counter. Your ass up for him to admire.

“Look at you,” he pushes your face towards your reflection. “You’re more than a cock slut—God, don’t take your eyes off yourself. I want you to see what I see when I fuck you dumb.”

Your makeup is ruined, running down your face like you’d been sobbing. Somehow, in a twisted way you find it attractive just how much damage he can do to you. Even outside the workplace.

Your stomach soaks in a puddle of your own liquids, and Eren wastes no time sliding through your flooding pussy. Fucking your plush walls.

“Is my slutty girl gonna let me fill her up?” he presses your back into the surface while thrusting your hips towards his dick.

“Fuck–yes–cum inside me,” you whine.

His strokes don’t slow, he pounds, and pounds, and pounds into you.

You feel lightheaded, and your stomach coils. Another orgasm was about to hit you like—

Eren slams into you a final time, and his tip brushes your cervix. Everything after is hazy. His cum fills you up with more fluid for your pussy to spit out. Your eyes roll back feeling the warmth of his cum contrast the chill of the lube. It warms your insides and makes you dopey.

“Take it all for me, baby.” He shoves himself into you as deep as he can, shooting his load past your cervix into your uterus.

Once he pulls out, his white substance leaks from your bruised hole. His dick sliding back in as easily as it slipped out; this time you both release a half-sigh half-moan while you cock warm with a pussy full of cum.

Eren lays on your back, relaxing into the sensation.

“Mm, shiiit.”

He twitches inside of you, dick swathed in your throbbing plush walls and fluids remaining inside you. Whichever of the three it may be.

You two rest there for a moment, taking time to calm down and enjoy each other’s intimacy. “You okay, still breathing?”

Lacking the energy to respond with real words, you groan to let him know you survived. That’s the least you can do. You also come to realize the ruin you’ve created, that, you don’t feel great about.

Your pants slow to soft heavy breaths, and Eren separates his weight from your back. Underneath you is a puddle of water —more like an ocean—

“Here, uh.” He shifts you around, but hesitates. “It’s everywhere… Like it’s on my feet and the rest of the floor. Guess I may have got a little carried away with the lube.”

A little?!

He gives you a boyish smile and turns to his final resort. “Jean! Can we get a little bit of help in here?”

“Oh, now you’d like my help? After you two fucked on every single piece of furniture?”

There’s a few seconds before Jean walks in on your mess, you can’t help feeling embarrassed. Since you're still dazed it doesn’t all hit like a truck, and you try not to look. That helps.

He’s wearing a white sweater with the sleeves rolled up. Blood has already rushed to Jean’s face, and he’s barely in the door.

“As you can see, she’s made a bit of a mess. And since I’m feeling nice today, I’m not gonna make you clean it up–”

“How kind of you.” Jean deadpans him, sticking his hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

“Yes, yes, I know. So, what I need you to do is throw her in the bath, clean her up. While I clean this up.”

So, Jean runs the bath just the way you like it. The waters’ comfortable, perfect if you’re being honest.

Jean’s so gentle with you, —outside of the bedroom— he’s already prepared to pin your hair up for you. You don’t have to lift a finger.

The two talk to you while you relax, and a few times you were sure they were talking to themselves or each other because you’d dozed off.

“Eren–just go get a mop. There’s too much to use a towel.”

“You worry about using that towel on her!”

Jean rolls his eyes and his attention is back on you. Dipping the cloth into the bathwater and rubbing it across your chest.

“At least he didn’t leave any bruises on you–”

“That depends, did you look in her pussy?”

“Shut the hell up.”

Eren interrupts him again, this time speaking to you while scrubbing the counter. “You did good, baby. So good.”

Jean looks to you, his hazel eyes soft and filled with determination. He lowers his voice so his more-than-annoying “friend” doesn’t chime in. “Do you want to raincheck work? You know we won’t mind.”

“I’ll let you know in the morning.”

“Okay, when I roll you off the bed at 9 to ask if you're up to film, you better not kill me.”

“9? You sure you don’t have a death wish?”

Jean chuckles, running his hand across the top of your head. “Sleep now if you want, I’ve got you.”

He places a kiss on your forehead, and hovers over the spot. “And don’t let Eren tell any of that bullshit again. I’ll fuck you in his face before I hear you say you belong to that buffoon.” he finished with your name, the sweetest part of the not-so-threatening “threat”.

One you’d be extorting very, very soon.

#eren jeager x reader #aot smut #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #eren jaeger #eren x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #snk smut #snk x reader #aot fanfiction

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