#or if I’m not too attached to a pair then I lean more neutral in my feelings ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[artsy-dreamer]

With the Notp thing: I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it was BakuDeku?

Nah, a different ship that I've mentioned before 😅

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 6

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut/angst

Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

___________________________

“Okay,” said Ruffilo, spinning a chair backwards at the foot of Noah’s bed and straddling it. He crossed his arms over the back of it and stared straight into Noah’s soul. “So talk to me.” 

Noah didn’t feel like talking. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but keeping everything bottled up hadn’t fared too well for him. After what happened the other night (he grimaced, not wanting to think about it), he felt like he owed it to himself to talk about it. Not doing so would likely end up in him engaging in even more self-destructive behavior. 

Noah leaned back  on his bed, head hitting the  wall with a soft thunk, arms draped over his bent knees, and closed his eyes. 

“I may have done something stupid,” he sighed. 

Nick chuckled softly. “I’ve seen you do a lot of stupid things, Noah. I’m not here to judge.” 

Nick’s voice held a practiced, precise balance between tenderness and concern. Noah had heard it many times over the years—Nick’s had always been the voice of reason, pulling him back down to earth when his head got stuck in the clouds (which happened a lot in Noah’s case). It was both comforting and, at times, intimidating—especially when it contained sharp truths that Noah wasn’t ready to hear. He suspected he was in store for some of those. 

“I may have…,” he trailed off, searching his brain for a combination of words he could accept. “…become attached…to someone.” 

He opened his eyes to note Nick’s reaction, but there was none. His face was neutral. Stoic. Kind, even. 

“Do you want to tell me who?” 

Noah shook his head. Nick tucked his teeth between his lips—a gentle sign that let Noah know he disagreed with the choice, but wasn’t going to press the matter. 

“Okay... So why is this an issue?” Nick shrugged.

Noah bit his lip, eyes flicking out his window when Nick’s sincerity became too much for him. He swallowed thickly. 

“I don’t think I’m good for her.” 

Nick’s eyebrows pinched together and Noah couldn’t handle the sympathy. It felt too much like pity. He chewed the inside of his cheek to distract himself. 

“Why would you think that?” 

Noah’s heart pounded inside his chest as he fought the urge to bail from the conversation. Three minutes in, and it was already bringing up repressed emotions Noah had no desire to feel. 

He breathed deep through his nose to steady himself, digging the heels of his palms into his thighs. How was he supposed to describe the situation? He wasn’t even sure why he felt the way he did, he just had a gut instinct. 

“So she’s like, religious or whatever,” he began. 

“Hold on,” Nick held up a hand to pause, his demeanor still unbothered. “Is this the pastor’s daughter Folio was talking about?” he asked, and Noah’s heart jumped into his throat. “Not a judgment, just a question,” he followed up. 

Noah hadn’t realized just how tense he’d become and forced his shoulders to relax. Though Nick was the least judgmental person he knew, he still couldn’t help but feel like he was on trial. 

Noah nodded reluctantly. “How much did he tell you?” 

“Not much,” Nick said with a shrug. “Just that you guys had a bet going.” 

Noah scowled. “I never agreed to be part of that.” 

Nick, calm as ever, simply blinked back. “I didn’t think you would.” His eyes scanned over Noah’s frame, likely noticing how on-edge his friend was. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Noah puffed out a breath, wrapping his arms around his knees to quell the tension in his diaphragm. He didn’t know why he was so nervous to talk about this—Ruffilo clearly cared about him and had never, ever judged him. Perhaps Noah judged himself so harshly that he couldn’t imagine anyone else not. 

“No,” he said, words finally flowing from him like a pressure release valve had been flipped. 

“I’m not okay. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about this girl, but I feel like I’m so fucked up and I just know I’m gonna end up hurting her somehow. And I think she likes me too, which makes it that much harder to stay away.” 

He pressed his palms into his eyes to equalize the pressure that had built up behind them. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” he continued fidgeting with a rip in his jeans. “I don’t have my shit together at all , and eventually she’s going to see how pathetic I am and leave me for someone better.” 

“Whoa,” said Nick, face remaining neutral, but voice taking a more assertive tone. “Hold on. You’re making a lot of wild assumptions here.” 

“Am I though? She’s a virgin and I can’t go a week without sticking my dick in someone.” 

Nick brought his finger up to his chin, eyes glazing over as he thought. “That does seem like an obstacle. Does she know this about you?” 

Noah paused his fidgeting. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I think she sort-of knows? But I don’t think she realizes how bad it is.”

“Is bad the right word?” Nick asked. Noah leaned his head back, tapping the crown of it against the wall several times over. 

“You’re missing the point.” 

“I don’t think I am,” said Nick, folding his arms in front of him. “I think you’re catastrophizing because you’re scared.” 

“Dude!” said Noah, throwing his hands in the air. “Can you not?!” 

Nick snickered into his hand, knowing he had finally gotten to the bottom of what had been eating at Noah. 

“Sorry, yes,” said Nick, struggling to keep his face straight. “You are alone in your problems. Nobody has ever dealt with anything like this before and you suffer uniquely .” 

Noah huffed, dropping his arms.. “Thank you. Finally someone gets it.” 

Nick smiled at his friend, then gave him a look that brought the conversation back to a serious note. “Do you really think you’re incapable of change?”

Noah sucked on his teeth. “I think that’s what I’m scared of.” 

Nick rocked forward on his chair, balancing it on its two hind legs. “Are you willing to try?” 

Noah rubbed his hand up and down his calf, “I don’t know.” 

The chair Nick was on slammed back down on all four legs, creating a thud that echoed through the room. “I don’t know what to tell you man,” Nick said, standing up and stretching. “You either want the girl or you don’t.” 

“Thanks,” Noah said flatly. “That really helps.” 

Nick sat down beside Noah on the bed, pressing his shoulder into Noah’s.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You have a lot of great qualities. There’s a reason she’s drawn to you. Personally, I’m really happy to call you my friend. And if it worries you that much, you can always try being honest with her about your concerns.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Noah said, trying to diffuse the sincerity with humor. He’d always had a difficult time accepting genuine affection, and Nick had a habit of giving it when it was most needed. 

“You might find,” he continued, “that she, like the rest of us, accepts you for who you are. Warts and all.” 

“It’s a lot of warts,” Noah said. 

Nick nodded in agreement. “It is a lot of warts.” 

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Noah cracked a smile. The pressure of Nick’s arm against his was comforting and he wanted to lean into it more, but he didn’t. He wasn’t ready to admit just how needy he was for affection. 

There was a time in Noah’s childhood where he’d expressed his needs. The need for reassurance. The need for affection. The need for love and kindness. Somewhere along the way though, he’d learned that his needs were a burden to his caregivers. Any time he asked, he was met with irritability and annoyance, and it wasn’t long before Noah received the message that his parents would only accept him if he didn’t ask for anything. 

He cut off the part of him that needed. The part that yearned. That part of him only brought about pain and rejection, so he treated it with disgust until it learned to never show its ugly face. Noah prided himself in his ability to be self-sufficient. And no, he never did end up earning the love he had wanted from his parents, but at least he didn’t get rejected by them as much. 

Now that he was older, he was starting to realize that being self-sufficient wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He knew he had to soften, and he would…one day. It was just that right then, he had so much he was already struggling with. Adding another task on top of the pile was overwhelming. 

So he settled for begrudgingly allowing his needs to be met whenever his friends insisted. 

“Thanks, man,” he muttered, not enjoying the way it felt coming out, but knowing it needed to be said. 

“Anytime,” his friend said, nudging his elbow deeper into Noah. “I’m here if you need to talk.” 

Nick waited a beat before continuing. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it. It sounds like she’s good for you.” 

Noah didn’t respond, but knew Nick would never say anything he didn’t mean. Perhaps he couldn’t trust himself just yet, but he could trust Nick, and that was a start. 

_______

“Can I ask your opinion on something?” Noah whispered in your ear. He’d snuck up behind you and you just about jumped out of your skin.  “Don’t scare me like that,” you said, turning.. His face hovered just over yours, close enough you could almost count his eyelashes,  and you had to take a deep breath to keep from flushing. Noah hissed a laugh through his teeth, backing away to a more respectable distance. 

It was Saturday morning once again. The first snow had just fallen, and the three of you were freezing your asses off outside. The two men had finished shoveling the walkways, and were now pouring salt along the sidewalks. Nick was about six meters away, scooping salt out of the massive bucket resting on the steps leading up to the church.

“My bad,” said Noah, fighting back his laughter. 

“What did you want to ask?” 

“What’s your take on lust?” he said, looking over to make sure Nick couldn’t hear. 

You blinked up at him. Noah wasn’t bringing this topic up just for the fun of it. He had an agenda, you suspected. The angel on your shoulder screamed to walk away, but the devil on the other whispered for you to take the bait. 

You swallowed hard and chose the secret third option—stall. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you said, breath coming out in a cloud of steam. Your nose had started to run. 

“Like, do you think it’s a sin?” he asked, leaning his weight on the handle of the shovel he still hadn’t put away. 

“Well, yeah,” you said. “You’re objectifying someone.” 

“How much of the sidewalk do they want us to do?” Nick called. He was almost to the end of the main walkway, but still had yet to touch the sidewalks in front of the church. 

“I think the whole thing,” you said, pointing to the sidewalks on either side. 

Nick scoffed. “So we’re supposed to spend the entire morning out here? I’m fucking freezing !” he said, wrapping his arms around himself for effect. 

“Do you need to borrow a jacket?” you asked. “We have some in the donation bins.” 

Nick’s face twisted into something sour. “No thanks.” 

You chuckled. “Then I can’t help you. Get back to work.” 

He groaned, throwing his head back and stomping off like a petulant child to spread his salt bucket farther down the sidewalk. 

“Absolute baby,” you muttered under your breath. It was the truth, but you had a soft spot in your heart for Nick’s antics. It made the day go by faster. 

“Even if they don’t know?” Noah asked, once Nick was out of earshot. 

“Know what?” you said, turning to face him. You noticed his ears poking out from under his hat. It was stupidly charming, especially now that the red of his earlobes matched the end of his nose, the membranes chilled by the cold. 

“That they’re being objectified?” His lisp was more prominent on the last word. He was making it difficult for you to ignore the crush you’d been unsuccessful in getting over—whether or not he knew. 

“I don’t know,” you said, placing your hands on your hips impatiently. “I’m not an expert. Shouldn’t you be working?” Up until that point, the conversation had played out like a game of tug-of-war, with both of you having an even grasp over its control, but you could feel your feet slipping. 

“My bad,” said Noah, leaning his shovel against the building and taking out a large scoop of salt. He sprinkled it over the sidewalk for the next ten yards and then immediately circled back to you. 

“So do you ever catch yourself lusting?” 

“Noah,” you scolded, rolling your eyes. “Why are you asking all these questions?” 

“Sorry, it’s just,” he said, sliding his foot back and forth in a large arc. His shoe glided over the salt on the sidewalk in front of him, producing a crunching, scraping sound. He sighed before sheepishly looking at you. “Full disclosure? I find myself lusting a lot.” 

“What a surprise,” you said flatly. He tilted his head and sucked on his teeth, unamused with your interjection. 

“And,” he continued, stressing the word the way a teacher would when interrupted. “I always thought it was harmless because the person I was lusting after wouldn’t find out, so victimless crime, right?” 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“I had a feeling you would say that,” he said, and you laughed. 

“Okay, well, if I may…who are you lusting after?” you asked. As soon as the question left your mouth, your chest tightened, not wanting to know the answer. If he said any other woman’s name, you’d lose it. 

“Not important,” he said. He suppressed a smile and you immediately knew he’d seen right through you. It wasn’t the affirmation from him you hoped you’d hear, but that was a long shot anyway. At least he hadn’t said someone else. 

You didn’t like the idea of him potentially talking to you about his troubles with women. You held out hope he could be hinting about his thoughts of you, given his actions on Halloween. The idea of him wanting you in that way was intoxicating. But you also knew he had a track record of being promiscuous, so really, it was anyone’s guess. 

“I think it’s probably not a good idea to be objectifying people like that,” you answered. “It could lead to treating them disrespectfully.” 

You said it, but you weren’t sure you meant it. A selfish part of you didn’t want to discourage him from thinking of you like that. 

“What if I could find a way to do both?” he asked. “Objectify and respect?” You found yourself struggling to look directly at him. 

You shrugged. “I’m not an expert. We both know I have a complicated relationship with sexuality, so I don’t even know if my opinion counts.”

“I think it counts,” he said. This time, you did chance a look over at him. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, shoulders raised to his ears as he looked at you. 

You wrinkled your nose, touched by his candor, but still unsure how you should respond. 

“If you feel like you can do both and it doesn’t feel wrong, then I’m not going to try to stop you,” you said. 

Noah pursed his lips. “That’s a very diplomatic answer.” 

“Can we go inside, please?” Nick whined, walking back up to the two of you. He’d salted about half the sidewalk. He bounced on his heels in a display of impatience. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But find something productive to do. I think the displays need dusting.” 

Nick all but bounded up the walkway in glee, stopping to deliver a cold kiss on your cheek before he rushed inside. You stepped back startled at the sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

“Dude!” Noah scolded while you processed what had just happened. 

“Suck it, Noah!” Nick called back without looking, and you burst out laughing. You liked being able to witness little glimpses into their friendship dynamic. Nick was such an antagonist, but Noah always had a sharp tongue with a witty retort on the end of it. 

“Sorry about him,” said Noah. 

“Don’t be. I liked it,” you teased, twisting your body back and forth like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

Noah reared his head back, looking you up and down with a furrowed brow. “Whore,” he spat, and stalked off dramatically to grab more salt. 

Your laughter grew in intensity, now becoming a full-body affair. You shook your head at his sass, deciding to head into the church to make sure Nick was actually working. 

Noah didn’t talk to you for the rest of the session.  _________

Pausing his game, Noah looked at the clock. It was nearing ten. 

On any given Saturday night, he was usually either at a party at Jolly’s or at a bar. Rarely did he spend his Saturdays alone, but that night was different. The knowledge that he could be getting laid at the moment wasn’t lost on him. It gnawed at him incessantly, refusing to let him forget. 

He wished he could. There were much better things he could be doing with his time, like trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, for one. Or working on his music. Or self-improvement of any kind, but his body had needs, and they demanded his focus. 

Perhaps his dick anticipated being inside someone. Perhaps he’d Pavloved his body into expecting pussy at least once per week, always around the same time. He sighed, awareness being dragged down to his lap.

For the hundredth time, his thoughts drifted to you. You’d probably just gotten back from worship band practice and were getting ready to turn in early so you could be up for church tomorrow. 

He rolled his eyes at the thought of it, once again struck by just how different your lives were. God, could he even imagine himself being with you? Would you expect him to go to church as well? 

His nose wrinkled on his own accord, eyes landing on the silver ring he’d fished it out of the bucket in the supply closet the other week when you weren’t looking. It now sat next to his keyboard, taunting him. 

A purity ring. God , the concept was horrific. Why anyone would promise such nonsense was beyond him. Not to mention the fact that they basically forced it on you at such a young age. It made him sick. 

He was proud of you for not wanting to wear it anymore. It warmed his heart to see you freeing yourself from that burden. 

His stomach churned with guilt. He knew it was wrong for him to have it without you knowing, but in his defense, you’d asked him to take it before tossing it away. Had he known you were that serious about ridding yourself of it, he probably would have taken it when you offered. 

He had to admit, there was also something kind of hot about him having your purity ring. He felt like he’d taken a small piece of that precious virgin identity.  

His eyes drifted over to the phone sitting beside the ring. Your number was in there. He hadn’t used it yet, but he could if he wanted. 

Taking his phone in his hand, he unlocked it, pulling up your contact and opening a new message. You were right there on the other end of it. 

He shouldn’t. Talking to you right now was a bad idea, and he knew it. His whole goal was to be better for you. Not to further corrupt you. And there was no way he had the strength to behave himself if he spoke to you at this hour. Not when his body tingled with want and anticipation. 

No, staying away from you was the much better option. If he really wanted to talk to you, it could wait until morning. He’d rub one out and go to bed and wake up feeling like a better man. One who had actually resisted the temptations of the flesh, for once in his life. 

He sighed and locked his phone again.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with you that morning. He knew it was a dangerous topic to bring up. He’d had ulterior motives from the get-go. But you’d answered all his questions with grace—not once giving into him the way so many would have. They way he knew he would have given in had it been reversed. 

If you’d been the one to bring up the topic of lust, he’d have found a way to bring the topic to the two of you fucking within minutes. He’d have slithered the idea of sex into that conversation immediately and found some way or another to get you thinking about it. 

If he did message you this late, you’d probably just turn him down anyway. Hell, you were probably already asleep. And if you did answer, you’d probably just have a casual, civil conversation with him. Or you’d want to talk religion again, which he was actually starting to like. 

Still, it was a bad idea. He was too needy. Maybe he should just watch some porn or something. He hadn’t done that in a while. 

Sighing, he opened his browser and typed the URLof his go-to site. Immediately, he was met with lewd stills. He tried to look, but it was all so gratuitous and intentionally overstimulating. There was no build up. Nothing left to imagination. Just explicit images of women bent over while men fucked them raw. And none of it sounded like anything he was remotely interested in. At least not at the moment. 

Swallowing back the acid that had crept into the back of his mouth, he closed the window, staring down at his boxers with pity. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” he muttered to his lap. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.” 

__________

Your heart squeezed, knowing what was about to happen. Inosuke held Daki’s head in triumph, having just beheaded the demon when something squelched, and Gyutaro’s curved blade pierced through the middle of his chest. Blood spurted out of the boar’s mask on his head, and Tanjiro cried out in anguish for his friend. 

You’d watched this episode a half-dozen times, and it still never ceased to tug at you. 

An ache was beginning to form in your lower back from sitting in the same position on your bed for too long. Grabbing a pillow, you flopped onto your belly and propped your elbows over it. 

You looked over at Stevie’s clock she’d hung above her bed. It was just after ten. You knew you’d have to get to bed soon or else you’d be exhausted for church tomorrow. But perhaps you could fit in one more episode before then…

Your phone pinged. Picking it up, your screen displayed a text from the last person you expected. 

Noah 10:08 PM : Okay, so I have more thoughts. 

You smiled to yourself. Noah was indeed persistent when he wanted answers. You quickly typed out a reply. 

You 10:08 PM : Go on…

Noah 10:09 PM : I agree that objectifying someone without their permission is bad. 

You 10:10 PM : Correct. 

Noah 10:10 PM : What if I had their permission? 

You snorted, diving into the pillow. The man just wouldn’t quit. 

You 10:12 PM : Are you alluding to porn? Because I don’t think that’s something God would be cool with. 

Noah 10:12 PM : No, not porn. I’m talking about getting someone’s permission. 

Noah: 10:12 PM : It would have to be above-board in that case, wouldn’t it? 

You 10:13 PM : I suppose…

If he was about to tell you he was going to ask for some other girl’s permission, you would chuck your phone at the wall. He didn’t, however. 

Noah 10:14 PM : What are you up to? 

You 10:15 PM : Watching Demon Slayer. You? 

Noah 10:15 PM : Fallout. Where are you? 

You 10:16 PM : In my dorm. Why? 

Noah 10:17 PM : What are you wearing? 

You laughed, finally seeing through his scheme. And honestly, you found it both sweet and endearing. So much so that you were tempted to give it to him. 

You snapped a picture of the oversized, threadbare racecar shirt you were wearing. You’d had it since you were a kid. You couldn’t remember how you got it, but it’s been in your possession since you could remember. By that point, it had collected an impressive set of stains and rips, but the years of wear and tear had softened it into the most comfortable shirt you owned. 

You hit send. 

You 10:21 PM : Sexy, right? 

Noah 10:21 PM : Nice shirt. 

Noah 10:22 PM : Almost as good as mine. 

The next message contained an image of him in a black shirt with the Lord of the Rings logo on it. He wore big, round glasses and his hair hung down messily over his shoulders. The photo was purposefully unflattering, with him looking down at the camera and distorting the shape of his lower face.  

You laughed again, the sound coming out loudly through your nose and you were glad your roommate was still visiting her parents and couldn’t hear you. 

You 10:23 PM: Hot. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Ikr? 

You 10:24 PM : Never been more turned on in my life. 

Sending that last text felt edgy. Exciting, even. Like you let slip a little bit of truth wrapped in the sarcasm, and you wondered if he could pick up on it. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Is that so? 

Got him. You swallowed thickly, wanting to lean into the flirtation without making your feelings too obvious. 

You 10:25 PM : What can I say? I have a thing for men with multiple chins. 

You watched as three dots appeared, then disappeared, and then reappeared several times before he finally replied. 

Noah 10:27 PM : Video chat? 

Your heart leapt into your throat, stomach buzzing with nerves. This wasn’t just taking things a step forward, but a whole leap—one with any number of potential outcomes and the unknown both scared and enticed you. 

Was this dangerous? Perhaps. But perhaps there was part of you that was ready for some danger, having played it far too safe for the last two decades…

You 10:28 PM : Sure. 

You steadied your breath while you waited for him to call you, drumming your fingers on your nightstand. What would you say? Would it be awkward? What if he tried to get you to do something you were uncomfortable with? Would he…

Your thoughts were cut off by the buzzing on your phone. You sat up, straightening your hair in the reflection of your phone screen before answering. 

It was a few seconds before Noah appeared on the screen. He sat at a desk, a blank wall behind him. On the left, you could see the head of his bed with a neon backlight. A candle flickered on a nightstand next to it. He wore his long hair pulled back in a bun—a few strands falling pleasingly in front of his face. 

“Hey,” he said, his too-big front teeth on display in charming smile and you immediately relaxed into the conversation, feeling a smile creeping onto your own face. 

“Hey.” 

“Sorry for interrupting your anime,” he said, voice coming out low, gravelly, and slightly muffled. “I was getting sick of gaming.” His lisp was even more prominent through the speakers on your phone, which served to further disarm you.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve already seen all the episodes.” 

“Is Demon Slayer any good?” His voice echoed in his empty room. 

“One of my favorites,” you said. 

“Nice. I’ll have to check it out.” 

There was a lull in conversation you weren’t sure how to fill, and suddenly you felt self-conscious, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to give your hands something to do. Noah continued to stare at you, rocking side-to-side in his desk chair. 

“Is your roommate home?” he asked. 

“No, she goes home on the weekends.” 

“Nice,” he said. “Do you guys get along?” 

You nodded. “For the most part. She’s double-majoring though, so she’s usually in class or at the library. I don’t actually see her much.” 

“Does that get lonely?” 

“Not really,” you said, playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. “I kind of like all the alone time.” 

It was true. As much as you enjoyed Stevie as a person, you rarely saw her. She was even more focused on school than you, and that was saying something. 

Without thinking, you brought the strand of hair to your mouth, sucking on the ends. 

“I get that,” he said, smile growing softer. “I like my alone time.” 

“Do you get much of it, living with two other guys?” 

“If I go to the studio,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Nobody bothers me there. Though they usually don’t bother me if I’m in my room, either.” 

“What’s it like living with Nick?” you asked. 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Loud,” he said. “The man can turn anything into a drum set.” 

“Have I met your other roommate?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he said, fiddling with something on his desk. You met him at the party for like a minute. Ruffilo. He has long hair.” 

“ Everybody had long hair,” you said. He let out a soft laugh. 

“True. He’s the one that plays bass. Green eyes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you said, vague memory coming back slowly. “It’s a Saturday night. Why aren’t you out?” 

Noah shrugged. “I’m getting bored with the party scene to be honest. What about you? Don’t you have some sort of youth group function to attend?” 

“Actually, there was an event tonight,” you said. “I didn’t feel like going.” 

“You heathen ,” he said, the corner of his lip quirking up into a devious smirk. He said it as a compliment, and your stomach buzzed pleasantly at the praise. 

You curled your toes into your sheets while Noah took an opportunity to observe you. 

“That hair taste good?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.. 

“What? Oh!” you said, laughing softly to yourself. You’d been chewing on your hair the whole time without realizing. You dropped the strand; sure you’d probably given yourself some split ends. 

“I like you like this,” he said. It was the most genuine compliment he’d paid you, and your insides melted into pools of liquid organs. 

“Like what?” 

“Cozy. Natural. I like your bedhead.” 

You blushed, avoiding eye contact and choosing to stare at your bedspread until you processed the compliment. “Thanks.” 

Noah let out a low humming sound meant to fill silence, which you found extremely attractive. 

“So what do you got going on tonight?” you asked. You propped your phone up against a water bottle on your night stand and shifted so you were sitting cross-legged in front of the camera. Noah’s eyes ran over your legs before drifting back up to meet yours. 

“You’re looking at it,” he said, stretching his arms up over his head and exposing a sliver of stomach. You allowed yourself to stare, taking notice of the ink that decorated it, much like the rest of his body.  

“You have tattoos on your stomach too,” you observed. 

He dropped his arms and sighed into a bashful smile. “Yeah.” 

“Is there anywhere you don’t have tattoos?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Where?” 

He looked down at his lap and then back up to you, smile devolving into a smirk. He topped it off with a wink. 

“Oh!” you said, head jerking back and hand coming up to cover your mouth when you finally pieced together what he meant. “I didn’t mean—Oh,” you said when you noticed his teasing smile.  “Just kidding,” he said, and you huffed at his idea of a joke. “I have tattoos on my dick too.” 

“What?!” 

He hissed out laugh. “You walked into that one.” 

“You’re such a jerk,” you said, looking away from the screen and biting your tongue until the blush seeped out of your cheeks. Kidding or not, he was deliberately bringing up his genitals and you were half-scandalized and half-aroused. 

“Come on, it was just a joke.” He said, rolling his eyes. Not that you noticed because you were still avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have tattoos on my dick.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” you said, finally looking back at him and letting your hand drop back into your lap. “It’d be excessive if you did.” 

Noah was certainly in a teasing mood. You liked it, but in the back of your mind, a nagging thought tugged at you and whispered of danger . 

“It is pierced though.” 

“Noah!” You sat there, mouth agape while Noah’s held his composure. You blinked at him a few times, before shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.” 

“You sure?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “It’s quite impressive.” 

You held up a hand in refusal. “I’m good, thanks.” 

Noah grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you. 

“Wanna see it?” he asked. 

“What? No!” you said, feeling your neck grow warm. You half-hid your face in your hands, as if at any moment, it would show itself. You weren’t ready to see that much of him. You liked that he was talking about it, and you liked the flirtation, but that was too much too soon. 

“Liar,” he said. 

“It sounds like you want me to want to see it,” you said, calling his persistence to attention. He needed to be batted away, you could tell. 

He paused, not knowing what to say and then grinned, resuming his swaying. 

“In my defense,” he said. “Any guy would want that.” 

“Not any guy,” you replied. “Not all guys like women.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.” 

The conversation dissolved into the two of you grinning at each other, both enjoying each other’s company without needing to fill it with words. 

“You don’t actually have it pierced, do you?” you asked, finally, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“No,” he said, looking down sheepishly. “I used to, but it got infected and I had to take it out.” 

“Are you serious?” You asked in disbelief. He nodded. “How did it get infected?” 

“Because I was a disgusting teenager who didn’t clean his shit,” he said with a laugh.  

You frowned. “Gross.” 

“You’re telling me!” his hand came up to scrub over his face, and you were struck by just how long and beautiful his fingers were. 

The thought of them inside you flashed in your mind before you could catch it and your breathing picked up. You tried to squash the thought from taking over but ended up failing and the image morphed to him wrapping his long fingers around your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the picture. It wouldn’t be productive to think of him that way. Plus, you’d just talked about how objectification wasn’t morally right. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” you said, a little too quickly and defensively. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. 

“It was my dick, wasn’t it?” He said it flatly, as if he’d already caught you in the act. 

“Was not,” you said, though he was on the right track. 

“That’s so rude, lusting after me without my permission,” he teased. Sure, he was feigning offense, but his voice was just a bit lower now. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you know that’s a sin?” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up,” you threatened, reaching for your phone.

“Wait!” he rushed. “Don’t go.” 

You lingered, waiting to see what he would come up with to convince you to stay. 

“I was just kidding,” he said. “Besides, you already have my permission.” 

“I don’t…,” you began, about to deny having pictured him like that, but thought better of it. Noah would have seen right through you. “When did you give me permission?” you asked. You thought you would have remembered a conversation like that. 

He rolled his head down to look at you from under his eyebrows, unamused. “It was implied.” 

“At what point was it implied?” you asked, brows crinkling together.

Noah rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically to emphasize his exasperation. “You know, you’re really going to have to learn how to pick up on subtle hints one of these days and stop making everyone spell it out for you.” 

“Or you could just be direct with what you mean.” You’d meant it as an off-hand remark, but when you looked at Noah, you realized it’d hit home with him. 

He opened his mouth, starting to say something but then shut it again, pursing his lips and humming. 

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that.” 

“To be direct?” you said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You found it hard to believe. 

“Yeah,” he said. You searched his face to see if there was any hint as to what he was thinking. You found none. 

“So does everyone else just? What?” you said. “Try to read your mind?” 

“Honestly? Yeah, kind of. More or less,” he said with a shrug, and you had to scoot back on your bed to process. Did people truly pay that much attention to him? Hyperfocusing on his body language and trying to infer what he was thinking and feeling? 

“Doesn’t that get confusing?” you asked. “I feel like it could lead to a lot of mixed signals.” 

He tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck and you heard the crackling sound emanating from the joints. The deep crunch sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his shoulders and dropping them a couple times to shake out any tension. Finally, he stilled and looked back at the camera, placing an elbow on his desk and resting his chin in his palm. “But it’s scary to be direct with what you want, don’t you think?” 

“I suppose,” you said, thinking back to your interactions with Isaac and Noah. You hadn’t been direct with either of them, so you could understand where he was coming from. It was intimidating. 

But something told you that if you wanted to get anywhere, you had to start asking for what you wanted. And demanding the same of others. 

You asked him first. 

“What do you want, Noah?” 

His eyes flicked down to his desk, then back up to you. He held eye contact, brows narrowing, breathing deeply in and out and sucking on the inside of his cheek while he considered the question. Finally he sighed. 

“Are you sure you want the truth?” he asked, voice taking on a new, unfamiliar tone—one that rumbled in his chest and hinted at what was to come. 

“Go ahead.” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Right now, what I really want is to know if you’ve thought about me.” 

You inhaled a shuddering breath, core pulsing around nothing and skin flushing. 

You had asked the question, but you weren’t ready for him to be that direct. You’d expected him to do what he normally did and beat around the bush, hiding his true intentions behind humor and teasing. You didn’t think he’d actually put it out there in the open.  

“In what context?” you asked, just to be sure. And maybe also to bide some time.

His eyes, which had been resting lower on the screen, flicked up to the camera. “Don’t play coy. You know what context.” His voice was low and commanding, impatient with your feeble attempts to avoid answering. 

“Right,” you said, nodding. You swallowed thickly. Noah had laid down his armor, showing unexpected vulnerability like you had asked. It was your turn. 

“So do you?” he asked, brow raised. 

You waited a few moments, stomach twisting uncomfortably while you gathered the courage to answer. 

“Yes.” 

“How often?” he asked, eyes growing darker. 

You kept your breathing even as you answered. “A few times.” 

More than a few. You’d been imagining him in various scenarios since your conversation on the altar steps all those weeks ago. His hands holding you down by your wrists or wrapped around your throat. His long fingers in your mouth. In other places….

“Did you touch yourself?” he asked. 

You blinked, cheeks heating in both shame and desire. This was a big thing to ask you to admit, but deep down, a long-buried part of you wanted him to know. You were ready for him to know. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” he asked, never once breaking eye contact. His questions came at you rapidly, like he was trying to throw you off balance. 

You shook your head, recognizing you’d reached a limit. “That’s private,” you said, and he nodded, sucking air through his teeth while he figured out which angle to approach from next. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

Good question. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” you said, unmoving. 

You were determined to continue the conversation, but it took all your focus to not shy away or lose your composure. Your heart beat rapidly, threatening to pound out of your chest. 

You knew you were ready to let go of some of this religious guilt that has been holding you back. You were ready to start exploring your sexuality, and you wanted it to be with Noah, but there was that tiny part in the back of your head that whispered what if. 

What if the church was right? What if I’m being led into temptation? What if I go to Hell? 

“Do you want me?” 

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts.  

“Yes.” You answered firmly, and you had a feeling Noah already knew. 

He tapped his fingers against his chin, pointer finger coming to rub at a dry flake of skin on his lower lip. Your eyes followed the movement, and he caught it. 

“You’re asking what I want?” he clarified. 

“Yes,” you said. 

He licked his lips, letting his teeth drag against the bottom one as he released it slowly. Squaring his shoulders, he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. 

“I want you to touch yourself.” 

Your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“What? Like now?” you asked. The words came out choked, your throat dry. 

He nodded. “And I want you to think of me while you do it.” 

You paused, warmth pooling between your legs. You pressed your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure. His eyes flicked down to them, and you noticed just how exposed you suddenly felt. 

“One sec,” you said and heaved yourself off your bed and repositioned yourself at your desk, mirroring Noah’s posture. He frowned briefly when he realized he could no longer see all of you. 

“What do you think about” he asked again, “when you think about me?”

You were delving into new territory. You’d never confessed anything like this to anyone before, and the thought of opening up like this both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t deny the affect his questions had on you.  

“Your fingers,” you said. 

The finger that had been rubbing at his lower lip paused. His eyes dropped down to it, and then back to the screen. His finger resumed, and you knew he was doing it on purpose. 

“Where?” he asked. His eyes were darker, voice gruffer. He held an intensity you’d only seen once back at his studio, right before he’d tried to kiss you. 

“In my mouth,” you said. Truthfully, you wanted his fingers in many places. In you. On you. Around you, but the sight of his index finger running across his lower lip captivated you and all you wanted was to wrap your lips around it. 

It might have been subconscious, the way his tongue briefly flicked over the pad of his finger. Then again, he may have been teasing you on purpose. He replaced his index finger with his thumb, dragging his lower lip down so you could see the bottom row of his teeth and you had to swallow the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue. 

“If I was there, you’d have them wherever you wanted,” he said, and flames erupted between your thighs. An itch that demanded to be scratched. Tension that pleaded to be soothed. Without meaning to, your hand traveled below your desk to apply pressure to the throbbing area. 

“Are you doing it?” he asked, pulling at the skin of his lower lip. 

You didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. 

“Yeah.” 

The thumb that had been tugging at his lower lip released. His lip sprang back into place as his eyes widened. “Can I see?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet.” 

“Why not?” he asked. He stared at the screen, mouth slightly open and teeth pressing into the corner of his bottom lip. You desperately wanted to taste him. 

“It’s private,” you said, and he pouted, bobbing his head up and down in a sign of begrudging understanding. 

“I suppose I’ll allow that.” 

“Oh you’ll allow it?” you said, eyebrows lifting. You liked that he acted entitled to you. Something about it made it just a little bit harder for you to breathe, but he couldn’t know that. His ego would run away with the knowledge. 

“I’ll allow it,” he repeated low, devilish grin on his face, and oh you liked that. As much as you pretended to be annoyed, you needed him to possess you. 

You noticed his shoulder shifting on the screen. “Are you?”

He nodded. “For a while now,” he answered. 

“Since when?” 

“How long has this call been going on?” he asked. “About that long.” 

You barked out a laugh, amused but not surprised, considering how much he’d talked about his dick already. You watched his shoulder moving, imagining what was going on just below the end of your screen. 

“Have you ever thought of me while touching yourself?” you asked. 

“What do you think?” He said it as if the question itself had been an insult to his libido. 

Your insides rolled and swelled with pride. The hunger for him evolved into something more ravenous, and you pressed harder into yourself with your fingers, stroking yourself over the soft cotton of your shorts. A small whimper left you and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. 

“What do you think about?” you asked. 

“Hmmm,” he sighed, and you thought it was probably the most attractive sound you’d ever heard. You wanted to pull that sound out of him again. “Should I tell you? Would it be too much for your virgin ears?” 

You waited for him to be done teasing. When he realized you weren’t going to react, he relented. 

“Ever since you mentioned you thought about being tied up, I’ve been thinking about that.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, fingers picking up pace to match the shifting of his shoulder. You wanted him to tie you up. You wanted him to want to tie you up. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. His words came out differently. Not his normal voice, but something breathier and more needy. “I’d tie you down so you couldn’t move. Force your legs apart and bury my face in your pussy.” 

Shit. You gasped softly, cheeks burning under his gaze. The friction over the clothes wasn’t enough anymore and you had to dip your hands under your waistband, closing your eyes and melting into the sensation. 

“Are you picturing it,” he asked. 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Good. Imagine it’s me touching you.” 

You did exactly that, pulling your lip between your teeth and biting hard on it to give yourself something to fixate on. You could feel Noah’s eyes boring into you through the screen and you couldn’t look at him, too ashamed of your own desires. 

Noah didn’t allow that for long though. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “Look at me while you fuck yourself.” 

Jesus. Your cheeks seared with the vulgarity of his commands, but you did your best to hold eye contact. His eyes were dark, irises blown wide with lust and jaw set hard in determination. 

His right shoulder tensed and shook with vigor and you’d have given anything to see what was happening under the desk.  

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, finally giving in and massaging your aching breasts with the hand that wasn’t currently inside you. 

This, you allowed Noah to witness. 

“Thinking about those tits in my mouth,” he said, voice low and gravelly. 

Your chest heated with the thought of it, breath coming out in pants. “Wish you could do that right now.” 

“There’s a lot I wish I could do right now.” The words were strained. Whiny. Needy, even and you needed to hear him make those sounds again. 

“Tell me,” you whimpered. “Please?” Your back arched off the chair and your eyes closed on their own accord. 

“Not unless you keep looking at me.” Your eyes snapped open. He stared at you intently, almost angrily in his efforts. “Keep those fucking eyes on me,” he ordered through gritted teeth. 

Hearing Noah speak to you like that was a new experience. He’d never taken that tone with you before and you couldn’t deny what it did to you. You grew wetter around your fingers, pace growing sloppy. 

“Need to see your tits.” 

You whined, wanting him to continue dictating his fantasies, but Noah wouldn’t budge. 

Slowly, you lifted your shirt high enough to uncover your breasts, tucking the hem between your teeth to keep it in place, but you kept your hand over your nipples to block his view. 

“Move the hand,” he commanded through gritted teeth. The veins in his neck began to pop. 

“Not until you tell me more,” you mumbled past the fabric.

Noah worked his jaw muscle while he stared down at your bare breasts, left shoulder tensed with how hard he was working himself. 

“Well right now, you’re cocky, so I wish I could wrap my hands around that throat until you drop the attitude.”

You flushed even more at his admission, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you. You bit harder into the hem of your shirt, smiling past the fabric. “Fat chance.” 

He inhaled deeply through his nose, a muscle in his temple throbbing. You liked this—making him angry. Testing his patience. You wanted to see how he’d react if you pushed him more. 

“Watch your mouth,” he said. 

“Or what?” 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I had a feeling you were a brat.” You grinned, feeling seen. “Talk all you want, but you won’t be so cocky when I have you in person.” 

God , you wanted that. You wanted him there, in person. On top of you. Inside you. You wanted his mouth on yours, all tongue and teeth and desire. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, I know so.” His voice came out more strained than ever. 

“Yeah? What would you do?” 

“Smack your ass, for one.” 

“Oh?” You taunted. “Daddy gonna give me a spanking?” 

Noah’s movements faltered and you worried you pushed him too far in your teasing. He looked at you, mouth opening and closing a few times, and you were about to apologize. Then he resumed his movements at nearly double his previous pace. 

“You can’t just say shit like that,” he said, breaking character into something much more genuinely Noah . The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed from beneath his desk. 

“What’d I do?” you asked, hand speeding up to match his movements.

“You know what you did.” 

Your mouth fell open. Your shirt fell, bunching over your collarbone. “Daddy? That’s what does it for you?” 

“That,” he said, “among other things. Uncover your nipples.”  

You did as you were told, allowing your breasts to fall naturally. You rocked your hips into your hands and Noah watched your tits bounce with the movement, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

“Are you serious?” you said. 

“Don’t kink shame me.” 

You curled your lip into a smirk, a deep need to test his patience again settling over you. 

“Why not… Daddy? Something wrong, Daddy? ” you teased, softening your voice and pitching it up to feign innocence. “Please tell me. I wanna be a good girl for you.” 

You could see a vein popping in Noah’s forehead. His face had grown an angry shade of red. “I know you’re trying to be a bitch right now,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “but this is actually working. Keep going.”

You pouted. “Well now I don’t wanna.” 

Another lie. You did want to, but you didn’t want to give in to him. 

Noah sighed and then chuckled. “I really fuckin’ hate you sometimes, do you know that?” 

You laughed, warmth spreading through your belly. Somehow his vitriol sent you further towards your end. “Good.” 

He made a gruff noise and grinned like the devil. 

You were about to respond, but your body chose that moment to betray you and instead offered up a whimper. 

“Noah, I think I’m close.” 

He groaned. “Can you hold out a little longer? I’m almost there.” 

“Hurry,” you whined, screwing your eyes shut tight. 

“Oh no,” he growled. “You look at me when you come.” 

Forcefully, you wrenched your eyes open, staring at him in want. He looked at you like a man starved, as if he could devour your entire body in one go. 

Your fingers squelched loudly inside you, and you were sure Noah could hear, but he continued to look at you, unblinking as he watched your face heat up with impending climax. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he muttered. You keened, rubbing fast circles into your clit with one hand and pumping your others inside yourself, picturing him touching you. Thinking about just how deep inside you he could get with those long, beautiful fingers. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed, brows pinching together and jaw set tight. “Ready?” 

You nodded, feeling your body hurling towards its climax. 

“Come,” he commanded. 

Your entire body tensed, tightened, and then pulsed, releasing waves of vibrations radiating out from your center. You let out a pathetic whimper, fighting against every fiber in your being to not close your eyes. 

Noah’s mouth dropped open. His body spasmed, pitching forward against his desk, vein in his temple throbbing and nostrils flaring. He let out a breathy whine and gritted his teeth, sucking air in through them. 

“Fuck!” he spat, body tense and rigid. And then he collapsed backward into the chair.  

Noah laid there, panting on the other side of the screen, mouth open, staring at you. He finally broke eye contact to drop his head back and close his eyes while he waited to catch his breath. His lips pressed together and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the excess saliva that had collected in his mouth. 

“Good job,” he muttered to the air above him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, still coming down from your own high. And you meant it. That was the first time you’d reached orgasm without being overcome or interrupted by guilt. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

You felt no guilt now. Only gratitude. It fell from your lips in a stream of thankyous, and when you finally took your eyes off the camera, tears began to leak out. Not in the way they had done in the past, when you were overcome with anxiety and shame. 

These were tears of joy. You’d managed to show up for your body, and it was grateful to you.

After several moments of basking in afterglow, you looked back over to the screen. Noah was in a catatonic state. His chest rose and fell with his breaths, but his eyes remained closed and he kept silent. 

“How you doing over there?” you asked and he brought a finger up to his mouth to shush you. 

“Give me a second.” 

You smiled, pulling your shirt back down over your chest and shaking out the cramp in your hand. You took your phone back in your hands, unscrewing the cap to the water bottle it had been propped up against and drank deeply. 

“Should I leave you to it, then?” you asked. 

“Thank you for that,” he whispered. “I needed it.” 

“Same here,” you said, settling back down into the bed and stretching out. “I feel like I could fall asleep right now.” 

“Should I let you?” he asked, eyes still closed. 

“You could sing me to sleep,” you suggested. 

“That’s third date shit,” he said, swallowing thickly once again. 

“Suit yourself,” you said with a shrug. “That was nice. I’d like to do it again sometime.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” 

Recognizing he was in no state to make conversation anymore, you made the executive decision to end the call. 

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” you said. “Talk to you later?” 

“Yeah,” he said for the third time in a row. “Sounds good. Sleep tight. And thanks for that.” 

You chuckled lowly, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The sharp angle of his nose as he breathed. The flutter of his eyelashes against his cheekbone. The furrow in his brow. You allowed yourself a few uninterrupted moments to indulge in the sheer beauty that was Noah in this state. 

“Goodnight,” you said. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered. 

You ended the call, the vision of his fucked-out face burned into your retinas. It was the only thing you thought of as you drifted off to sleep. Click to be added to the Taglist

@reyadawn @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @livingdeceasedgirl @just-randomm-stuff @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls @rain-down-on-me @iluvmewwwww75 @poisongirl616 @gravitysembrace @spookychaosstranger

[sorrowsofsilence]

Harder • Folio

Pairing: Nick Folio x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Smut (18+, male!receiving, female!receiving), choking, slight exhibitionism?kinda, mentions of drinking, derogatory terms used (whore).

Prompt: you know what they say, drummers hit it harder.

Author note: I enjoyed writing this way too much oh my god. I hope you enjoy it too <3

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d  @lans-angels @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies

Well, you know what they say, drummers hit it harder.

“I am so fucking excited!” Ruffilo exclaimed, tossing the last bag into the minivan. You and the boys were going on your last camping trip of the year, and it was bittersweet.

Initially, the trip was just supposed to be the two of you; but Ruffilo was persistent that the rest of the band tagged along, as well as Matt and Bryan.

Folio loved taking you out on his bike to go camping, fishing, and hiking; but his absolute favourite part was the great sex you two shared camping. Something about being away from home made it that much more exciting. His least favourite, was now his bandmates were going to be there.

“Yeah, me too,” Nick muttered through gritted teeth, giving a tight smile as he placed his helmet over his head, zipping up his leather jacket.

“Oh c’mon,” You sat behind him on the bike, geared up for the ride, wrapping your arms around him as your chest pressed into his back, “We’ll still have tons of fun.”

Nick shifted in his seat, “Is that a threat or a promise?”

You smiled cheekily, despite him not being able to see since the helmet covered your face, “both?”

He hummed in response, before turning the bike on and preparing to leave.

That evening after setting up, everyone was sitting happily around the fire, drinking beer and roasting hotdogs- the classic camping combo. Everyone laughed as they exchanged stories, Noah and Jolly reminiscing about funny memories during the tour they had just finished.

“And-” Bryan said through a broken laugh, “Remember when you just fuckin’ dive-bombed off the stairs?” He doubled over laughing, almost spilling his drink as he leaned into Noah, the two giggling.

You smiled at the exchange, arms folded over your chest as you sat comfortably in your camping chair, before glancing over at Nick. He watched the fire intensely, eyes glazed over in thought, face neutral yet disappointed. You knew he was upset that this trip wasn’t just the two of you, especially because he would be getting ready to leave for tour again in a few weeks; and this was one of your last fun events planned.

You wanted to cheer him up a bit and had the perfect idea.

Reaching over you ran your fingers through his hair, “I’m going to bed,” you said, eyes lingering on his for a moment to see if he understood what you meant.

Nick’s eyes flashed with excitement as he shifted in his seat, giving you a curt nod.

You stood up, stretching your arms before folding up your chair and staring at the group ahead of you. The flame danced in the middle, illuminating the shadows of the boys’ faces, who stared at you sadly.

“Packing it up now?” Jolly frowned, opening another can of beer.

You nodded, “I’m not feeling too good, so I’m going to get some sleep.”

You eyed Nick one more time, his gaze catching yours before wandering to the tent.

“I’m going to make sure she’s ok, I’ll be back.” Nick nodded at your friends before following you into the tent, zipping it up behind him.

You sat on top of your sleeping bag, motioning for him to lay next to you. Nick obliged, immediately scooping your waist between his fingers, gripping your side as he yanked your body towards his. You grabbed his face, pulling him up to kiss you, and his lips attached to yours hungrily.

Nick’s voice was hoarse as took a breath, “The boys-”

“I don’t care,” you said, and Nick moaned as you kissed him again roughly, “I need you, Nick.”

“Can I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?” Nick chuckled lowly, kicking off his sneakers hastily, before lying down.

You crawled on top of the man, his dark ember eyes devouring you as you stripped your clothes, remaining only in your underwear, straddling his lap. Nick’s hands gripped your thighs roughly as you began rolling your core into his, and he hardened below you.

Adjusting yourself you sat on his thigh, the fabric from his jeans rough as you began to grind against his body, riding along him. A red hue fell onto Nick’s nose as he smiled, admiring how heavenly you looked as you pleasured yourself against him.

All for him.

Nick peeled off his shirt while you played with the buckle of his jeans, undoing the zipper and springing his erection free.

Licking your lips you watched as his mouth opened slightly, soft puffs of air escaping as you spit on your hand, letting the saliva drag off your tongue onto himself, sliding your hand up and down his desire. Nick watched in awe as you worked on him, pumping up and down with a gentle roll of your wrist; his eyes unsure whether he wanted to stare at your hand, bouncing chest, or your face, eyes radiating with lust for him.

He licked his lips, whispering a soft plea, and you knew he was begging for your mouth wrapped around him. You obliged, sliding down his leg before licking up his length, smiling as he shuddered below you, precum dripping from the tip as his body prepared for yours.

“Fuck you are so hot Y/N,” he mumbled, hands grabbing each side of your head as his fingers tangled in your hair, pushing you against him forcefully. You loved it when Nick thrust into your mouth with need, causing you to gag against him. He fucked into your mouth, hips shooting up strenuously with an innate craving, needing you to take all of him.

You choked against Nick’s body, a deep guttural groan of satisfaction escaping his lips as he held the bottom of himself, slapping the tip against your cheek before sliding back inside your mouth. Your scalp burned as he held your hair taught.

You moaned along him before pulling away, your chest heaving with heavy pants.

Nick stripped off his remaining clothes, before sitting up and unclasping your bra, taking your chest into his hungry mouth, sucking on the skin. He kissed up your Neck, biting and licking against the sensitive spot behind your ear, causing a gasp to leave as your hands raked up his back. Your nails trailed along his skin, dancing back to the top of his head, running them through his chestnut locks as he hooked your panties, pulling them down your legs. The voices of your friends outside the tent became white noise as you watched Nick’s eyes worship you.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Nick growled into your ear, the warmth of his breath contrasting the crisp air within the tent, causing your body to shiver. Nick wanted nothing more than to ram himself into you, bruising your skin and giving you everything he had; but the shame of his friends hearing halted his actions. He loved taking you from behind, clawing at your hips as he bred into you eagerly with thirst. He would have to wait till he got home to completely rail you into your bed, listening to you scream a slurry of profanities mixed with his name.

You moaned at his confession, biting his jaw gently and affectionately before pushing him back into the air mattress, having him look up at you with greed.

“You’ll make me scream if you fuck me, you’re always so rough,” You whispered heavily.

“Then keep riding my thigh until you come, like the good little whore you are,” Nick praised, and you nodded greedily. You rolled your hips into him again, sliding along him, your slick gliding you with ease. Your free hand began jerking Nick off and he threw his head back at the sight, completely overwhelmed with infatuation.

Nick wanted to touch your body, one of his hands wrapped around your throat. He groaned, squeezing gently, but hard enough that your vision danced into a darkened satisfaction.

“You like it when I choke you?” He said, dirty words sliding off of his tongue as his free hand made it to your core, flicking roughly at your pleasure. A loud moan slipped from your lips as your body shook, your senses heightened through Nick’s possessive grip, and he squeezed tightly for a moment.

He hushed you, staring with eyes dilated with fervour, “They’ll hear us if you’re not quiet.”

“Fuck,” you said sharply, completely indulged in his touch. Your eyebrows furrowed and Nick watched you through hooded eyes, hips thrusting into your hand as you pumped him.

Nick’s lip found its way between his teeth, “Look at me Y/N,” and you purred, staring into his eyes with his hands wrapped around your neck, holding you in place while you ruled each other.

Your body clenched as Nick’s fingers continuously brushed over your desire, sliding along his thigh over and over until your abdomen began to clench, eyes trying to remain fixated on the man who possessed you below.

“I-” you whimpered, trying to be quiet as your legs began shaking, back hunching over as you folded into Nick’s hand; but his grip on your throat held you up, resisting your need to push away from him.

“Shit!” You gasped, your body letting go as your orgasm consumed you, but you remained gripping onto Nick, sliding your hand along him.

Nick’s mouth fell open as he watched you come undone, a sly smile of satisfaction playing on his lips as he eyed you with admiration. He loved when you came for him, from him.

“Fuck Y/N, mouth, now,” Nick demanded, and you sucked along him again. His fingers dug into your thighs as he clenched through his orgasm, a strain of continuous deep groans escaping his body. Nick was unable to contain his sounds as you drank in all of him, ropes of his release coating your throat. He pushed into your mouth and you gagged, but he held you firmly in place with his hand, pushing your head into him.

“Good girls swallow, everything,” He said through deep breaths, your stomach erupting with motive as you drank all of his surrender.

You sat up, smiling down at him as you wiped your lips. Nick panted, giving you a knee-weakening grin before closing his eyes, and catching his breath.

“Not feeling well, huh?” You heard from outside the tent. Nick’s wide eyes snapped to yours in horror as you covered your mouth in embarrassment, the two of you hiding your ashamed laughter.

[ploompkin]

Idk whether I’ll have time to finish this, but…! Here- just a teaser of what could maybe-in-future be a full fic. Based on @ohsayit ‘s scenario I reblogged earlier 🤭

Summary: You steal Zevlor’s shirt. He wants it back. …And he’s willing to fight for it.

Pairing: (gender neutral) Zevlor/Reader ; Zevlor/Tav

Rating: T

Cw(s): Suggestive!! General sauciness, but nothing explicit.

—————————————————

“Tav.” Zevlor reaches out his hand, stance firm. “I need it. Give it here. Now, please.”

You prop your chin up on your knuckles, elbows on your knees, smug, because despite the irritation in his voice you can tell by his face that the sight of the oversized sleeves swallowing up your hands has him smitten.

With the most obnoxious smirk you can manage, you issue the challenge. “Come take it off me yourself.”

He sets his jaw, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’re sure want to play this game?”

As an answer, you just lean back and undo another button— the shirt now gaping so wide it’s just short of exposing a nipple— and stick the tip of your tongue out. His reaction is priceless, body stiffening as his expression flits between aroused and annoyed too many times to count, until it settles on… neither. He looks at you blankly, and just when you’re wondering whether you’ve finally broken him, he lunges for you. You both fall backwards into your tent as you collide, landing in an awkward heap among the cushions. His initiative is better than yours though, and before you can even think what your next move will be, he has you pinned beneath him by the wrists. Both of your breaths mix, along with your gazes, heated. Then, you brace one foot on his thigh and lock your arms around his shoulder, throwing him off effortlessly- but he’s prepared for that, and immediately breaks into a roll to escape a counter attack, pushing himself up into a crouch. You mimic his stance (not like there’s room to stand in the tent anyway), and eye him warily. His tail swishes from side to side, a playful, but confident smile on his face.

“The shirt, Tav.”

But this is about more than the shirt now. This is about pride.

You lift your chin in defiance. “I’m starting to get attached to it, actually. Think I’ll keep it.”

He growls. “That wasn’t a request.”

“And that wasn’t a surrender.”

“Torm’s tears, you’re so…!—“ He grinds his teeth— “stubborn…!”

You just wink at him. “I am. And that’s why you love me.”

He huffs, but you see the lines of his face soften. Unfortunately though, although he calls you stubborn he’s much the same, and this fight is far from over. He stalks over to you, but before he can get close enough for whatever he has planned, you rush to tackle him at the waist. That proves to be a mistake. You might be agile and have a solid technique, but he has all of that and a set of infuriatingly strong muscles. So, you find yourself underneath him. Again. It’s enough to make your blood boil, irritating you as much as it is very rapidly turning you on— but when his teeth graze against your neck, your body quickly decides to favour the latter. A sigh falls from your lips as he kisses along the sensitive skin, followed by a shiver as he drags his tongue over your pulse, torturously slowly. His body feels so pleasantly firm against yours, and you’re suddenly desperate to have more of him, arching your hips up into his with what you’ll deny is a quiet whine. The adrenaline from the fight transforms into something else entirely, your head spinning with want as he encourages you, rocking against you.

Then, you feel it. Fingers creeping between you two, presumably trying to be stealthy, and moving to undo the rest of the shirt buttons.

Bastard!

Now he’s not expecting your resistance you’re more easily able to reverse your positions, pinning him in place with your thighs, doing your best to ignore the longing ache between them.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice you trying to steal it? Really?”

“Steal!” Zevlor scoffs, “I’m just taking back what is mine.”

“By seducing me.” You lean in closer, smiling sweetly. “What an underhanded technique for such an honourable soldier.”

He scowls at you. “If I remember correctly- and I most certainly do- you flashing me is the whole reason we’re in this mess.”

“Ahh, so it did get you hot and bothered. That’s good to know.”

“I’m only a man, Tav.” He grumbles. “I can hardly be blamed for it.”

“No.” Your smile widens, “but you can be for your actions. Tackling me into the tent?” You tsk. “Really, Zev. I took you for a gentleman.”

His lips twitch up at the corner, eyes hooded as he watches you. “You seemed to enjoy it well enough.”

Your mouths are only a hairs width apart now, and you can feel each heavy breath he takes as if it were your own. Just for a moment you forget yourself, and swallow thickly. He spots the bob of your throat and chuckles, hand sliding up the back of your neck and threading into your hair.

“One last chance,” he murmurs against your ear. “Return what you stole, and I’ll go easy on you. If not…”

He knows he doesn’t even need to finish the thought; your imagination will do the rest.

“You’re expecting me to beg for your mercy, rider?” He shudders as your lips brush, and your tongue darts out to kiss his lower lip. “Dream on.”

You groan lowly as his hands grab onto your hips, claws sinking in just shy of drawing blood.

“Mrag, your insolence knows no bounds.” A dark laugh tickles your cheek. “Very well. But don’t blame me if come tomorrow morning you regret it.”

[vodika-vibes]

*Slides 50$ in Monopoly money*

Could I possibly get a smutty fic with Kix x GN reader in which reader has a crush on Kix and they end up missing a medical appointment and Kix has to chase them down? Btw love your writing!

The Physical

Summary: When you get too absorbed in your work, you tend to forget everything happening around you. You’ve forgotten to eat, to sleep, and, on one occasion, your own boyfriend. So no one is surprised when you don’t show up for your required physical. That doesn’t mean that you don’t need it though.

Pairing: Clone Medic Kix x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1932

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted. I was pretty careful to make the story as gender neutral as possible, in the sense that the reader has no gendered pronouns attached to them at all. Also, I made a divider for this story.

You’re a bit…scatterbrained.

You know it. Your parents know it. Your teachers from school knew it. 

Your coworkers know it better than most.

It’s not intentional. It’s not. You just get so absorbed in your work, that you forget anything else.

Unfortunately, for you, anything else really means everything else. You’ve skipped meals, you’ve skipped sleep. You’ve missed holidays and birthdays and everything in between.

You once forgot about a date that you planned and scheduled and paid for. 

And you try. You do try. You set reminders and calendar alerts, and it doesn’t matter because when you’re really absorbed in your work you just won’t hear them.

Luckily for you, the people you work with are unendingly patient with you and make a lot more allowances for you then they really should. It helps, probably, that you’re very good at what you do.

And that the men of the 501st genuinely like you.

You step out of your room, a private room close to where you work, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you see Kix standing there. “It’s about time you woke up.”

You stare at him for a moment, and then you look at your chrono, and then look back at Kix. “It’s barely 6. I can’t possibly be late to anything!”

“What? No. I’m here to remind you about your physical.”

“...oh. Right. That’s today isn’t it?” You glance at your comm, and make sure that the alert is saved, “I have alarms set, you don’t have to worry about me forgetting.”

“How many alarms?”

“...Four. Across two devices.” You admit.

He sighs, “That should be fine then.” He glances at his own datapad and frowns at something on the screen, “Why did you schedule for 12:30?”

“That’s the time I was assigned.” You reply with a shrug, “Is it a problem?” You ask as you lean in to get a glimpse of his datapad.

Kix quickly moves the datapad so you can’t see the screen and shoots you an amused look, “You know you’re not allowed to look at this.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” You lean back and flash a small grin at him.

“There’s nothing wrong, but the later in the day your appointment, the more likely it is that you’re going to forget.” Kix points out, and then he sighs, “It’s fine. You set alarms, so you’ll be there.”

“Right!” You pause and shoot him a curious look, “Will you be doing my exam?”

Part of you wants him to say yes. You’ve been crushing on him since the day you met him and having him touching you would be a dream come true. The rest of you is adamant that he absolutely does not do your physical because you’ll do or say something embarrassing.

“No.” Kix replies absently, seemingly not noticing your disappointment. “I’m the CMO of the Resolute, I don’t do physicals unless we’re really short handed.”

“Then why are you here reminding me?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“What, you don’t like chatting with me?” Kix asks with an amused grin. “I was heading this way anyway, and decided to take a moment to remind you.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“It is, isn’t it.” He claps your shoulder, “Anyway, I’ve distracted you enough as it is.” He pauses, “If I have to hunt you down because you forgot your physical after I came and reminded you, I’m going to be very cross.” He warns.

You fold your arms, “Honestly, it’s like people expect me to forget everything.”

“You don’t have the best record.” Kix points out.

“You’re not wrong but you don’t have to say it.” You mutter, and then your chrono chimes, “I have to go. Thanks for the reminder, Kix.”

“Sure.”

And then you both go separate ways. Your mind is already locked on the different projects that are waiting for you, and Kix to go and do whatever medical things that CMO does.

Later, you’re not really sure how much later, the door to your workshop slides open and a hand slams against the door panel, shutting and locking the door. 

You’re only half aware of it, as half of your body is bent in the engine compartment of a speeder. “Whatever is broken, put it on a table over there.” You say, your voice muffled by the screwdriver in your mouth, and you wave vaguely in the direction of a table on the other side of the room, “Make sure you leave a ticket.”

There’s the sound of something being dropped on a table, and then silence, so you go back to trying to figure out what’s wrong with the speeder. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Unfortunately, you’re not able to pick out clones by their voices yet, especially when you’re only half paying attention. “I’m sure there’s a working chrono over there somewhere.” You mumble in reply.

There’s silence again, and you’re almost sucked back into your work, when strong hands grip your hips and you’re physically lifted away from the speeder and set several feet away.

And then you’re roughly spun so you’re facing Kix.

You stare at him, wide eyed, more than a little startled. And the harshness in his gaze softens slightly, as he lightly plucks the screwdriver from your lips, and sets it on a table, and he sets his hands on your shoulders.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“...no?”

He closes his eyes, as though he’s asking for patience, “When were you supposed to go to the medbay for your physical?”

Your face falls, “...I missed it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m sorry.”

Kix stares at you for a moment, and then he releases you, “Kriff. I can’t even stay mad at you.” He runs his hand over his head, “Look, I rescheduled your physical for first thing in the morning. You will be there, even if I have to drag you there myself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Kix.” You won’t meet his gaze, “I am sorry.”

“Forget it.”

“...why’s your kit here?” You ask, noting that his medical kit is sitting at your desk.

“I was worried you got hurt since you generally work by yourself.”

“Oh.” That’s fair, you decide. You stare at the medkit for a moment and then you clap your hands together, “I have an idea!” You hurry over so that you’re standing in front of Kix, “How about you give me my physical. Here. Now.”

“What?”

“You have all of the stuff you need, right?”

“I…technically, yes.” Kix says slowly.

“And this way there’s no worry about me missing another appointment-!”

“Wait, hold on. This is not something I can do.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He falters and very pointedly doesn’t look you in the eye, “Because it would be inappropriate.” Kix finally admits.

“Come on, Kix. You’re the Chief Medical Officer, how could it possibly be inappropriate?” 

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he sighs, “Because my feelings in regards to you make it inappropriate.”

“...come again?”

Kix’s gaze is even as he scans your face, “Surely you’ve noticed how much time I spend with you? How much I talk to you?” His hand comes out to rest against your cheek, and his thumb brushes your lip, “How I worry about you all of the time?”

“I thought you were just being nice.” You admit.

“No. Well, not only. I-” He trails off, “Kriff, I want you so badly.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist and pull his hand away from your face, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t want to pressure you.”

You don’t reply, you just lean in and catch his lips in a deep kiss, and Kix responds immediately, his arms sliding securely around you. He walks backwards and settles on your stool, and you move to stand between his legs, not breaking the kiss.

You break the kiss first, and you press light kisses across his face, “I’ve wanted this since the day we met.” You admit as you trail your lips across his cheek.

He chuckles, “I’ve been fantasizing about you for the same amount of time.” There’s something roguish in his eyes, “I think…my first fantasy about you was you, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

You laugh softly, “That right?”

“You always have something in your mouth. A pen, a screwdriver, a fork, that one time I caught you with a wire in your mouth and nearly had a heart attack on the spot-”

You gaze at him thoughtfully for a moment, and then you grin at him and drop to your knees between his legs, and you lay your head on his knees.

“W-wait…I didn’t mean-” but he trails off and licks his lips, “You don’t have to.” He finally says.

“I want to.” Is your simple reply, “How do I remove your codpiece?”

“You let me do it.” Kix replies sounding slightly breathless, as he swiftly removes the piece of armor and sets it to the side. 

You sit back slightly as he does something, and his half hard cock pops free. It’s pretty you decide as you shift closer to him and lightly take him in hand, giving him a few strokes, until he’s completely hard in your hand. 

You glance up at Kix, who is breathing heavily, his gaze locked on your face. His pupils are blown wide, and you flash a small smile, before you lean in and lightly lick the head of his cock. 

You hear Kix release a groan and a curse, and that’s all you need.

You wrap your lips around him and slowly, painfully slowly, take him inch by inch, until you can’t take anymore of him in your mouth. And then you start a slow pace, you want to take your time and you want to hear as much of his groans and moans.

He sets his hand on your head, not pushing or trying to make you take more than you're comfortable with, but to encourage you. He strokes your hair, praises falling from his lips as you work him over with your lips and tongue.

“Kriff,” Kix groans, “This is so much better than my imagination.”

You pull off of him completely, using  your hands to continue the easy pace that you set, “Is it?” you ask.

“Kriff, yes.” Kix strokes your cheek, “Cyare…I-” He trails off as you take him back in your mouth, and his hips buck towards you. You’re not sure what he wants to say, but you’re pretty sure, whatever it is, can wait.

Kix’s praises start becoming more rambly, and you pull back so that you have your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, while using your hands to continue stroking him.

And then he groans, low and deep, as he spills his release in your mouth. You keep him in your mouth until he’s done, and then you swallow his release and sit back on the floor, using the sleeve of your shirt to wipe your lips. 

“I probably need more practice at that,” You murmur thoughtfully.

Kix doesn’t reply, he’s staring at you, a sly smile on his lips. 

“What?”

He slides off the stool to the ground and tugs you closer, his grin never once fading and a mischievous grin on his face, “I’m not done.” He breathes out, as he lays you back and hooks his arms around your thighs, “It’s only fair if I return the favor, don’t you think?”

[kpopfanfictrash]

Love to Hate (Extra Scene II: Jungkook’s POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Author’s Note: This scene takes place during Chapter 5 of Love to Hate and is told from Jungkook’s point of view. PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE STORY BEFORE READING THIS SCENE (otherwise there will be spoilers lol).

Rating: 18+

Word Count:  6,820

This is wrong.

It’s all Jungkook can think, seated beside Giselle on his sofa, right thumb tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. Giselle’s thigh is pressed to his in clear invitation, her gaze lingering pointedly on his mouth. Were Jungkook any other man, he’d be clearly focused on the woman beside him.

Jungkook is not someone else, though. Instead, he thinks of you.

Where you are, what you’re doing and why you didn’t respond to the last message he sent. Slowly, Jungkook closes his eyes and wills away your presence. It’s unfair, being seated beside someone else and still thinking of you.

When Jungkook’s eyes reopen, Giselle watches with some bemusement. Forcing his features to relax, Jungkook tries to refocus. You’ve only slept together four times – three if you don’t count the phone sex, which Jungkook does – so he shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as he does. Granted, even three times is a lot for someone whose limit is one.

You seemed genuine though, in your desire for no-strings attached sex, and so, Jungkook acted out of character and gave you his number. His real number.

Lifting his glass of whiskey to his lips, Jungkook takes a long sip. After two hours of no response, he placed his phone on the counter and turned it to vibrate. It seems whatever interest you had in him has waned – a fact Jungkook is trying not to let drive him crazy. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what someone is thinking and ironically, you’re the one person he wants to understand.

When he exhales again, Giselle’s lips twitch. “Are you feeling alright?” she asks, reaching out to rub Jungkook’s thigh. “Want me to get you some water?”

Stiffening, Jungkook fights the urge to push her hand aside. It’s not Giselle’s fault he’s thinking of another woman. Not her fault that she (rightfully) assumed he invited her over to get to know her better. More intimately.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Jungkook leans back and lets her hand fall to the side. “I’m okay,” he says, managing a smile. “Thank you, though.”

Giselle gives him a quizzical look. Head tilted, long, dark hair cascades down her back. “Okay. I had fun tonight,” she says, tactfully changing the subject. “It was good of your family to donate so much to a worthy cause.”

“Yeah.” Hiding a grimace, Jungkook takes a large sip of his whiskey. “He’s a regular bleeding heart, my father.”

A flicker of something – annoyance, perhaps – crosses Giselle’s features, although she schools them quickly to neutrality. A practiced technique – he should know. Jungkook doesn’t blame her for feeling annoyed. He knows he’s being an ass. It’s not Giselle’s fault Jungkook invited her over and now regrets it.

He was planning to ask you to the dinner tonight.

You would’ve said no – you don’t strike Jungkook as the function type unless it’s for Clean Ocean – but he would’ve had fun with you at his side. You could’ve joined in on the mocking, unlike Giselle, who at best managed a loud spurt of laughter.

Maybe Jungkook is being too cynical. Tonight’s dinner was for a great cause, but that’s just the problem. Many families in the room caused the issues these dinners are for and could easily stop them with a few business choices. Instead, they donate a couple thousand dollars, claim the return on their taxes and pat themselves on the back for a job well-done.

Tonight was merely an opportunity for wealthy people to spend money and feel self-important; to assuage the guilt which comes from hoarding wealth. Jungkook remains unimpressed that his father dropped fifty thousand when his net worth is several million times that.

You would’ve been a breath of sincerity in that stuffy ballroom. Jungkook planned to ask you until his father pulled him aside and demanded he take Giselle. Apparently, her father owns an important packaging company and her father wanted Giselle to be taken care of.

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder at her father’s intentions, since his reputation wasn’t exactly a secret. Still, he didn’t actually plan on sleeping with Giselle until you ditched him, which probably says more about him than about her. If Jungkook could bury his face in his hands right now, he would. Honestly, his reaction to your silent treatment took even him by surprise.

Disappointment, he expected – there’s no denying the chemistry between you – but this was accompanied by embarrassment and an odd sense of uncertainty. Jungkook has always known where he stood with previous flings. The few times he’s deigned to call someone twice, they’ve always responded.

Jungkook has never really cared about being ignored but right now, he does. He finds he cares a lot and maybe that’s why he agreed when Giselle asked to see his place. Jungkook knew what she wanted but found he didn’t care. A part of him needed it; needed to prove to himself he was still desirable – and that your rejection didn’t sting as much as it had.

This thing between you is supposed to be casual. You’d said that a few times and if so, Jungkook should be comfortable sleeping with another person. Earlier, he did some fast math and realized the last time he slept with someone else was weeks ago.

There were women after your first date, of course. Jungkook can admit when he’s wrong and he truly thought you’d break down and call within a week or so. When you didn’t, he buried himself in a long line of women – none of whom soothed the craving you sparked that first night.

He was on his tenth ‘date’ when you called, putting him out of his misery. Since that night – Jungkook’s stomach sinks again – he’s slept with a grand total of one woman. An experience so subpar, Jungkook promptly forgot other people existed. It wasn’t as though he dated for anything other than sex and with you on the table, no one else compared.

So, yeah. Maybe Jungkook said yes to Giselle to prove he doesn’t have feelings for you. Because if Jungkook does have feelings, he’s broken your rules and the moment you realize – because surely, you will – this thing between you will end. It’s as simple as that.

Except now, his gamble has backfired and Jungkook knows he can’t go through with it. Giselle’s hand on his thigh is all wrong, as is the heat he can feel from her body. The thought of moving to his bedroom, of removing her clothes – Jungkook interrupts the thought with a flinch.

And then he stills, realizing what he’s done. He – Jeon Jungkook – flinched at the thought of casual sex. Panic claws up his throat and abruptly, Jungkook pushes himself to stand.

“I think I’m done with the whiskey,” he blurts. “Want wine?”

“Sure.” Giselle sits back, puzzled as he leaves.

Striding fast into his kitchen, Jungkook drags a hand through his styled hair. Of course, Giselle is confused – who wouldn’t be with all his mixed signals? Teeth gritted, Jungkook opens his cabinet in search of red wine. One glass, and then he’ll send Giselle home. Maybe he can lie and say he’s had too much to drink.

Locating glasses and an opener, Jungkook sets these aside to stare at the bottle. He should tell Giselle to go but in a nice way. She didn’t do anything wrong; there’s no need for anyone else to be hurt tonight.

Across the counter though, he sees his phone screen brighten. Frowning, Jungkook reaches out as words fill the screen – Front Desk.

“Hello?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Mr. Jeon?” His doorman, George. “I hope you’re having a pleasant evening.”

“I – uh. Yeah.” Jungkook glances furtively at Giselle. “I am. Is something wrong?”

“On the contrary. I just wanted to call and tell you Miss Y/L/N is on her way up.”

George continues to speak, but an incessant buzzing drowns out all other thoughts. Dimly, Jungkook recalls adding your name to the guest list a few weeks ago. Dread fills his stomach as the light above his elevator brightens.

“Thanks,” Jungkook manages to say, his voice strangled. “I have to… go.”

George hangs up as the elevator dings. The next few moments seem to happen in slow motion, the doors sliding open to reveal you inside. When you see Jungkook, your entire face brightens, and he feels faintly sick at the prospect of what’s to come.

Seeing this, your expression falters as you step inside. Your gaze lowers to the wine glasses on the counter and you visibly relax, assuming one is for you.

“I – hi,” you say, walking forward. “Sorry, I just realized I should’ve called. I mean, I responded to your DM, but I – oh.”

That tiny oh is barely audible, but Jungkook feels the word like a gunshot.

Feet slowing, your gaze snags on Giselle in his living room. To make things worse, Giselle has made herself comfortable and is now watching you with a pitying glance. Jungkook can practically see the steam rise from your ears as you piece things together.

Words in his throat battle, clambering over one another – this isn’t what it looks like, I was about to send her home – but none of them wins.

“Ah.” Wobbling slightly, you step backwards. “I’m, well, shit – I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice sounding thick. “I didn’t realize. I’ll leave,” you blurt, jabbing the button and Jungkook realizes too late you’ve stepped into the elevator. “Ignore me – ignore this, I –”

The elevator doors shut, and Jungkook realizes he’s moved all the way around the counter.

From behind him, Giselle clears her throat. “Who was that?”

Ignoring this, Jungkook stuffs his feet into discarded loafers. Whirling around, he grabs his keys and catches sight of himself in the mirror – he looks wild, hair sticking up where he ran his hands through it.

“Giselle, I’m sorry,” he says, pressing the elevator button. “You should go. Now. Please, I – I’m sorry. My driver can take you home.”

Jungkook looks up long enough to see Giselle’s shocked expression. Then he turns, slamming the button with renewed enthusiasm, as though this might make it come faster. After a long moment, Giselle scoffs and gathers her things.

“Whatever,” she huffs, and Jungkook hears her move closer. “I wasn’t interested in you, anyways. I’m sure my father will be angry, though.”

Jungkook barely registers the threat, too concentrated on the memory of your stricken face. Opening his phone, he frantically scans his messages. You said you responded, but he never –

Fingers paused, Jungkook sees the Instagram notification. Opening the thread, he sees a time stamp from roughly around the same time he arrived home.

Y/N: on my way [12:16 AM]

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Whirling around, Jungkook grabs Giselle’s coat from a hook and hands it over. Ignoring her look of surprise, Jungkook ushers her into the elevator the moment it arrives. Pressing the buttons for both garage and lobby, he rides until they reach his car. Taking his driver aside, Jungkook instructs him to bring Giselle wherever she needs to go.

Jungkook sees Giselle’s eyes light up at his words and resigns himself to a very expensive gas bill tomorrow. Returning to the elevator, Jungkook rides the remaining floors to the lobby alone. As soon as the doors open, he bursts free and comes to a stop.

Spotting you across the lobby, Jungkook resumes motion. “Y/N!” he calls, rushing forward. “Wait!”

Startled, you look up and visibly wobble. Redoubling his speed, Jungkook makes it across his lobby in record time.

“Don’t call a cab,” he begs, coming to a stop and grabbing your phone.

Incensed, your eyes narrow as you try to take it back. Jungkook holds it aloft in a moment of breathtaking immaturity, struggling to come up with what to do next.

“Furst – first of all,” you huff, jumping a little. “This isn’t the 1950’s. No one ‘calls a cab’ anymore. Second” – you lunge, wildly missing the phone – “you have a girl in your apartment. I’m not trying to join in or watch if that’s what you’re hoping.”

The absurdity of this statement makes Jungkook’s lips twitch – something he instantly tampers when you scowl back. Stepping away from him, you sway and Jungkook’s thoughts are eclipsed by the realization you’re drunk.

Or – at the very least, tipsy. Scowl deepening, you stare at his lips and Jungkook is having a hard time not being a caveman and saying it’s too late to go home.

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” he says, a bit lamely.

Stoic, you hold out your hand. “My phone, please.”

This time, Jungkook hands it over. He didn’t mean to be an ass, but the thought of you leaving without him apologizing makes his innards twist. Jungkook gets the feeling if you go now, you might never come back.

“Please stay,” he insists, widening his eyes. “I already asked my driver to take Giselle home. She should be gone by now.”

“Giselle,” you scoff. “Wow, sure. My mom would love that name.”

Feeling as though he’s missed something important, Jungkook frowns. “Uh, okay. Do you want to come back up?”

Scowling, you take an immediate step backwards and wobble again. Jungkook lunges forward, trying to help but you wave him off.

“Why would I go back upstairs with you?” you demand. “You invited me to come over and then, what – you forgot?”

“No,” Jungkook says. “I invited you over and you didn’t respond for two hours! When my date asked if we could get a drink, I –”

“You were on a date?”

Maybe it’s Jungkook’s imagination, but you seem a bit stricken. He hesitates, and far be it from him to assume, but something about your expression makes him think… possibly you don’t like the idea of Jungkook with someone else.

Heart pounding, he forces himself to stay calm. You’ve been out drinking. You came all the way over to his apartment, only to be turned down in the worst fashion. Likely, whatever comes out of your mouth next can’t be trusted.

“It was a charity thing,” Jungkook says instead. “My dad paid for two plates. Y/N…” He pauses, debating how to put this before asking, “Are you drunk?”

“I had fun – a few drinks,” you huff, and Jungkook suspects it was significantly more. “But if Giselle was your date, why were you texting me?”

“You messaged me first,” he reminds you. “So, I responded. And yeah, I would’ve preferred seeing you, but you didn’t respond,” he adds, his frustration growing. Roughly, Jungkook shoves a hand through his hair. “When Giselle asked to see my apartment, I –”

“See your apartment.” A snort. “Nice.”

Limply, Jungkook lets his hand fall. “Are you seriously upset I was planning to sleep with someone else?” he asks. “Because these are your rules, Y/N.”

“Rules you agreed to. Rules I haven’t heard you offer to change,” you challenge.

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook forces himself to stay silent because he’s not sure what words might come out of his mouth. Lunacy might urge him to change the rules right here and now, and end up looking like a fool when you tell him no.

Jungkook isn’t sure what you want from him because clearly, you don’t want more than sex. In a warped way, your reaction to him with Giselle has given Jungkook some sort of confidence about your true feelings. Obviously, you didn’t like seeing him with another woman.

Jungkook wishes you would simply say that you’re jealous because then he could explain. Then he could tell you he was about to send her home, that he wanted to–

Abruptly, Jungkook stops this thought in its tracks. That he wanted to what? Call you? Beg you to come over? Realistically, Jungkook wouldn’t have done either because deep down, he’s a coward. Jungkook agreed to your terms because he’s terrified of hearing someone say the word no.

“Yeah,” he allows. “I guess you’re right.”

“And I’m not upset about that,” you add hotly. “I don’t care if you sleep with someone else, but I do care that you thought you could squeeze us in back-to-back! I –”

The sound of your cell phone cuts through the lobby.

Jungkook realizes you’ve been standing by the door, arguing for the better part of ten minutes. Luckily, no one has entered the building at such a late hour. His housing association is probably writing a strongly worded email to him as you speak.

“Hello?” you say, turning as you answer the phone.

“Y/N?”

Curious, Jungkook peers over your shoulder. Whoever is on the other end is loud, yelling to be heard over the background music. Jungkook can only catch bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“Thank the… happening… Topaz?”

Jungkook frowns, recognizing the name of a club by the beach.

“I, uh – no,” you say, twisting further. Jungkook nearly growls when you stumble – right arm shooting out, he grasps your wrist to keep you upright. “I left, actually,” you add, your voice high-pitched and strange.

Possibly because your back presses to Jungkook’s front, allowing him to feel the supple curves of your body. He forces himself to concentrate on your conversation, close enough to now hear the man on the other end.

“You left?” says the speaker, sounding shocked.

In the reflection of the window, you wince. “Um, yes,” you say, lowering your voice. “Like twenty minutes ago?"

"Who did you leave with? That guy you were grinding with on the dance floor?”

Without meaning to, Jungkook’s grip tightens. You were grinding with someone at Topaz earlier tonight. Now, your sudden silence makes sense and Jungkook is having a hard time separating the then from now. Anger flares, hot and sudden – although it disappears just as quickly when he sees your face.

It’s the same expression Jungkook wore when you came to his place and saw Giselle. Stomach twisting, he wonders if you’ve had a similar night to his. Both of you sought someone else, only to end up in each other’s arms.

“No,” you hiss, unaware of Jungkook’s inner turmoil. “I, um, left to…”

Deciding enough is enough, Jungkook reaches out to pluck the phone from your hand. Gasping, you turn around, but Jungkook ignores you. Glancing at the screen, he sees the name Hoseok before lifting the phone to his ear.

“She’s with me, Hoseok,” he says. Turning away, he ignores your futile attempts to get the phone back.

“Is this… Jungkook?”

“Yeah, this is Jungkook.”

Hoseok’s tone is suspicious, and Jungkook doesn’t blame him. Hell, he’d be skeptical of any man answering your phone, and he’s only known you a couple of months. Based on his research, Jungkook knows you and Hoseok have been friends for years and started Clean Ocean together.

“Okay,” says Hoseok, recovering quickly. “Look, I don’t really know you, and everything I have heard isn’t that great, but –”

“She’s safe here,” Jungkook interrupts, interjecting as much sincerity as he can muster. “I promise.”

Hoseok is silent, weighing his options and Jungkook feels oddly nervous. Eventually, Hoseok exhales and a weight falls from Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Fine,” Hoseok says, speaking loudly to be heard over the music. “Y/N was pounding margaritas and apparently took some tequila shots with Seokjin, so – I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER,” he yells, presumably to Seokjin. “Anyways, I’ll be tracking Y/N’s phone, so she better make it home in one piece tomorrow.”

Lips pressed together, Jungkook suppresses the urge to make a joke about One Piece. “She will,” he says instead. “I swear.”

“Cool.” Hoseok sounds distracted. “Tell Y/N to drink water. Seokjin, I’m coming, you ridiculous land mass –”

The phone call suddenly ends, leaving Jungkook with a dial tone. Placidly, he hands over your phone and ignores your cold fury.

“Thanks,” you huff, opening an app. “I’m just going to call myself a Lyft, and –”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He can’t have gone through all that only for you to leave. “Stay,” he blurts before he can think of an argument. “Please.”

You look up, seeming prepared to argue but instead, slowly soften. Jungkook has no idea what’s written on his face but whatever it is gives you pause.

“Fine,” you mutter after a moment. “But just for one glass of water.”

Not wanting to press his luck, Jungkook nods and follows you across the lobby. Heart soaring, he treads in your footsteps towards the elevators. Behind the front desk, George shakes his head, clearly on your side and Jungkook makes a mental note to bring him coffee tomorrow.

Walking into the elevator, you step sideways as the doors shut. Casually, you lean against the wall and the silence between you only lengthens. Jungkook turns to face you, one ankle crossed leisurely over the other. Several times, your gaze darts to him, although you always look back.

Hiding a smile, Jungkook folds his arms across his chest.

Eventually, you sigh and speak first. “I’m sorry,” you say, not meeting his gaze. “I was… surprised when I got here and found someone else, and I – well, yeah.” You pause. “We said we’d keep this casual.”

Jungkook chooses to stay silent, wondering what else you have to say.

“Like I said,” you add, peering at your shoes. “We agreed to sleep with other people.”

You sound as though you’re convincing yourself. Pushing himself from the wall, Jungkook strides forward and comes to a stop before you. You look up, breath quickening when your gazes meet. It satisfies a base, brutish part of Jungkook to know you’re as affected by him as he is by you.

When you lean in, Jungkook stiffens but he needn’t have worried. You don’t touch him – instead, you softly inhale and somehow, this affects Jungkook more than if your lips had been involved.

“Sorry,” you blurt, and look up. “You just… smell good, that’s all. Better than – well.” Trying to regain yourself, you wince. “Never mind.”

Jungkook has never met someone able to get under his skin as easily as you do. One second, he feels in control and then next, you’ve undone him with barely a word. The worst part is you don’t seem to realize the tremendous power you wield.

When you take a step backwards, Jungkook’s composure snaps.

Reaching out, he encircles your wrist. “Better than the guy you were dancing with?” he asks, stepping forward and pressing you against the mirror.

You suck in a breath, and he feels your body melt. This fact fills him with pride, knowing someone like you trusts Jungkook with any part of your life. Gently, his thumb skims the inside of your wrist.

“Maybe,” you whisper, gaze lidded.

Jungkook’s upper lip twitches. “Was he not enough for you princess?” he rasps, returning to the familiar. “Did you remember halfway I’m the only one who can make you come as hard as I can?”

A defiant gleam enters your eye. “He was fine.”

His brow cocks. “Fine?”

“More than fine.”

“What happened to fine?”

You huff. “I wouldn’t get cocky. I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.”

You’re right about that, and Jungkook doesn’t care. Throwing caution to the wind, he moves closer. “I’m not ashamed of it,” he says softly. “You’re the sweetest fuck I’ve ever had and you deserve to know that. Not tonight, though,” he adds, saying it out loud. “Not when you’re drunk and I’m sober.”

The elevator dings as the doors slide open behind him. Jungkook pulls himself together enough to step aside. Straightening his jacket, he enters the hall and removes his coat and shoes. Draping this over the chair, he heads into the kitchen.

Jungkook has always been good at hiding when he’s rattled and right now is no exception. Although he appears calm, on the inside, he’s shaking.

“What do you want?” he calls as he goes. Taking Hoseok’s words to heart, Jungkook opens the fridge. “I stocked up on food since the last time you came, so now I have ramen.”

When you fail to respond, Jungkook glances over his shoulder. Freezing in place, he watches you falter while attempting to climb onto his breakfast stool.

“You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he straightens. “Do you need to puke?”

“No,” you mumble, hanging your head.

Jungkook presses his lips together to avoid laughing. Your nausea isn’t funny, but it isn’t often he sees you anything less than immaculate. From your first meeting, Jungkook has found you intimidating. It’s oddly refreshing to see you with your walls down.

Lifting a brow, Jungkook leans in. “You sure?” he asks, making soft, retching sounds.

You groan, slumping lower. “No. But if you keep doing that, I’m going to puke in your Prada loafers.”

Snorting, Jungkook turns around to open a cabinet. Removing a glass, he fills this with water and sets it by your elbow.

“Drink,” he commands. “I’ll go get you Motrin.”

Heading down the long hall which connects to his bedroom, Jungkook listens to ensure you aren’t throwing up. Grabbing medicine and changing as fast as he can, he returns to find you seated upright, which is an improvement.

Your gaze fixates on his chest, though, which is strange.

Carefully, Jungkook places medicine by your hand. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Ramen?”

Startled, you look up as Jungkook stifles a laugh.

When you nod, he turns around and starts assembling ingredients. Eggs from the fridge, scallions, and other toppings. Silently, Jungkook wills himself to hold things together but it’s hard when the implication of tonight hangs in the air.

You stayed. You stayed, despite Jungkook saying nothing sexual would happen. He can count on one hand the number of times this has happened – easy to do, since the answer is zero. Such a thing has never happened.

“You don’t have to do that,” you murmur, interrupting his thoughts. “I know you told Hoseok I was here, but I can go home. I can Uber or something. Jimin is watching Dante all night, but I can leave. You know, sleep it off.”

You’re babbling. Talking in circles to avoid the wrong answer and Jungkook stares in amazement because frankly, he never thought he’d see the day. Something hard cracks in his chest, warmth spilling from a long-ignored crevice.

Turning around, Jungkook places the pot on his stove. “Y/N,” he says, turning on the burner. “I seriously don’t mind.”

“But you were about to get laid.”

He can feel his lips twitch. “I can get laid anytime.”

Even as he says it, Jungkook’s conscience protests but he ignores this. Apparently, he can’t get laid because he’s too busy thinking of you. It’s better you don’t know that, though. Safer like this, without fear of rejection.

“Sure,” you allow. “But you were about to get laid tonight.”

Setting down the spoon, Jungkook gives you a look. “As nice as it is you’re concerned about my dick, why don’t you let me speak for it – okay?”

Slightly chagrined, you sit back. Stifling laughter, Jungkook resumes prepping the food. Despite being a terrible chef, ramen is manageable and Jungkook hopes you’re still drunk enough to think it tastes okay.

“Besides,” he adds, lips tugging up at the corners, “the ego boost of you coming over tonight will last me for months.”

A loud groan escapes as you slump forward, prompting Jungkook’s laughter. Returning to the stove, he fiddles with the gas as you prop your chin in one hand. Jungkook tries not to look but can feel the heat of your stare on the side of his face.

He’s about to ask, what, when you open your mouth.

“You want me to really boost your ego?” you muse and Jungkook’s skin prickles. “Since you said I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had?”

“Yeah,” he says, trying to play it cool. “Boost my ego, I can take it.”

“Hm.” You sound skeptical – rightfully so, it turns out. “Well then, you should know you’re the same. Bar none. Actually,” you say, leaning closer, “throw out the bar. You’re the bar. Fuck, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first time. You were right, you know? No one else has come close.”

Jungkook grips the handle of the pot so hard, he’s surprised it doesn’t break. Slowly, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to exhale. You’re drunk, he reminds himself. You’re drunk and everything you say should be taken with a grain of salt.

Still, Jungkook can’t help the current of emotion lurking beneath the surface. There’s a part of him – a large part – which wants to forget what he said, kiss you senseless and see if you crack and confess what you’re really thinking.

Stiffly, Jungkook forces himself to add the noodles. “A lesser man,” he mutters, “would ignore his moral code, bend you over the counter and fuck you right now.”

Your pupils darken, lower lip held between teeth and Jungkook knows if he asked, you would respond yes. Which is exactly why he has to be the one to say no.

Shaking his head, Jungkook looks away. “But I won’t,” he declares, lifting his spoon in the air, “because I’m a strong man who can’t be brought down by one woman’s vagina.”

You seem puzzled.  “You sure?”

“No.” He levels you with a glance. “So, stop tempting me.”

You pause a beat before breaking into a grin. When you do, the sight leaves Jungkook winded and he wonders if he’s ever seen you happy before. No, that’s not it – he’s seen you happy, sure but never without walls. Seeing you smile this way is akin to the last morning mist burnt from the field.

When you wobble, nearly falling again, Jungkook springs into motion. “Shit,” he blurts, rushing around the counter.

“I’m fine!” you speak, waving him off as you right yourself. “Promise, I’m fine.”

Jungkook hesitates another moment, but eventually listens and returns to the stove. From then on, he vows to be on his best behavior, but the premise is difficult to execute. Before tonight, Jungkook knew you were smart and beautiful but now, he’s seen a side of you rarely shown. One that’s comfortable. Fully at ease, Jungkook thinks with an errant thump-thump of his heart.

Finishing your water, you unconsciously kick your feet back and forth beneath the counter. You seem softer, somehow. Less burdened – not that he dislikes how you usually are. Nothing fills him with greater pride than watching you cut an asshole to shreds. This feels special, though. As if Jungkook has been told a secret which only exists between the two of you.

“Jungkook,” you yawn, pushing forward your bowl. Forcing himself to focus, Jungkook realizes you’ve finished eating. “If I don’t find a bed soon, I’m going to be passed out on your floor within the next fifteen minutes.”

Lowering his spoon, he leans back in his seat. “I see.”

“Right.” You give him a pointed look. “So, I need to leave now. Or you won’t be able to move me until morning. Unless you carry me. Which might be bad for your back.”

“Or,” Jungkook adds, lifting a brow, “we could go with the obvious solution.”

“Which is?”

“You could stay the night.”

Jungkook genuinely thought this was obvious, but when you slowly blink, he wonders if this was so. Maybe he’s seeing what he wants to see and suddenly, Jungkook wishes he could take back the words.

Your feet are no longer swinging. “I… what?”

You don’t say this like the idea is bad, but rather like you can’t believe what you’re hearing. The warm thing in Jungkook’s chest – which had flickered – reignites.

“You could stay here tonight,” he says, grabbing the bowls for something to do. “I have a bunch of extra bedrooms, so you don’t have to stay in mine if you don’t want to. As long as you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Jungkook winces. He’s not sure why he said separate rooms, apart from the worry things might happen too quickly. Now the suggestion is out there though, and he can’t take it back.

“Or you can wear your own clothes, I guess,” he adds, backtracking. “Or sleep naked.” Shit. Now all Jungkook can think about is you, naked. “I don’t really know how you – I mean, we haven’t –”

“Your clothes would be nice,” you interrupt, putting him out of his misery.

Jungkook simply nods, shutting his cabinet doors. Heading out of his kitchen and down the long hall, he enters his bedroom.

“No problem,” he calls. “Why don’t you come grab a t-shirt?”

Heart pounding, Jungkook yanks open a dresser and grabs the first thing he sees. Suddenly, his mind is a master overthinker. Previous words, actions, everything that he’s done, runs through his mind on an endless loop.

Hearing you enter, Jungkook forces himself to turn around. “Will this work?” he asks.

You hover near the door, something almost tentative in the way you stand. Jungkook crosses the room, feeling as though he’s moving underwater when he hands you the t-shirt.

Fingertips brushing, you take the garment from his hands. “What do you think?” you ask quietly, laying it against your chest.

Jungkook stares at you, unable to speak. He can only watch his clothes held in your hands, struck by the certainty of how right this feels. Jungkook has never considered himself to be possessive (he’d have to care about something first) but the sight of you with his t-shirt stirs something primal.

“That works,” he manages to rasp.

Your gaze flickers once, then you nod and turn. “Can I take a shower?” you call as you enter his bathroom.

Jungkook nods, then realizes you can’t see him. “Yes,” he calls, leaning against the wall to hold himself up. The thought of you in his shower, water dripping from your naked curves, is too much to bear. “Bath products are in the far cabinet. Take what you need. Do you…” He swallows, dearly hoping the answer is yes. “Are you good to shower alone?”

If you respond no, Jungkook isn’t sure what he’ll do. Obviously, he’ll be a good human being and help you shower – but at what cost?

“I’m okay,” you call, sounding amused. “Be right out.”

The door to his bathroom shuts, leaving Jungkook on the outside. Exhaling, Jungkook drags a hand slowly down his face. After a moment, Jungkook adjusts himself and turns to walk towards the windows.

Hearing the shower start, Jungkook stops and stares at the skyline. So many thoughts run through his mind, begging to be untangled. Tonight was nothing like he anticipated and yet, Jungkook can’t help but feel he’s made some sort of progress.

For weeks now, Jungkook has been afraid to consider what his feelings might mean. The fact that he thinks about you all the time, looks forward to seeing you even when there’s no sex involved – it’s not something he’s ever experienced.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Jungkook stares at his reflection. You weren’t wrong about what you said earlier: I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.

It’s true. Jungkook barely thought twice before sending Giselle home, no matter the potential cost. It’s something that would have been important to him mere weeks ago – he should probably send Namjoon a text, letting him know there’s an angry supplier on the way. Before you, it would’ve been the first thing Jungkook thought of but tonight…

Shaking his head, Jungkook refuses to finish the thought. Even if he does have feelings for you, that’s not what you want with him.

In the bathroom, Jungkook hears the water stop and slowly turns around. Seating himself on the bed, he crosses his legs at the knees and waits. When you reenter the room, the sight of you wrings the breath from his lungs.

For the second time tonight, Jungkook finds himself speechless. Slowly, his gaze drags up your body, lingering where his t-shirt sticks to your dampened skin.

“Ah,” he rasps, the words like hot coals. “You look… good.”

Good is inadequate. Jungkook wishes he were creative so he could impress you with art, poetry, or the stuff of legends. Instead, all he has is this shriveled thing in his chest which beats for you.

“So,” you exhale, clothes bundled to your chest. “Are the other bedrooms… upstairs?”

Jungkook pauses, then blinks, having forgotten he said that. Eventually, he nods and forces himself to stand. Concealing his own disappointment – he was the one who offered, after all – he moves towards the door.

“Yeah,” he says, mustering a smile. “Follow me.”

Cursing himself for being a total idiot, Jungkook enters the hall and considers how best to retract the offer. But what if this was the only reason you agreed to stay? Then Jungkook would lose all the ground he’s gained, and he can’t bear the thought of you leaving now.

He talks as he walks, pointing out different rooms without really hearing himself. There are technically three guest rooms in his place. Yoongi and Taehyung have crashed in two, but no one has stayed in the third – not even him.

Jungkook calls it his mom’s room even though she never saw it. He redesigned the room after she died, a singular place of warmth within his frigid life. Jungkook rarely enters but now, is struck by the possibility you might like this room best of all.

“And this is my favorite,” he breathes, pushing open a door. Before Jungkook can overthink it, he brings you inside and assumes a neutral expression.

Crossing the threshold, you falter. “It’s beautiful,” you say, turning to him with wide eyes. “Whose room is this? It doesn’t really look like your… vibe.”

Jungkook takes no offense, although he does wonder what you consider his vibe to be. He knows the rest of his condo has a sterile, unlived-in feel, but that’s only because he’s so rarely at home.

Opening his mouth, Jungkook realizes the only explanation he has is the truth. He can’t say what this room truly means. If he did, it’d reveal something personal and that’s explicitly against your initial rules.

Or this is what Jungkook tells himself. In reality, Jungkook has crossed so many lines tonight, the integrity of your rules have been smashed to smithereens. Explaining his mother to you though, is something he can never take back, and so, Jungkook doesn’t.

“No one’s, really,” he says, releasing a breath. “I helped the designer with it. And my room, of course, but I wanted this room to be different. Homier.”

You nod, looking away and Jungkook is grateful you don’t pry. Walking inside, your hand drifts across a sunken ottoman and Jungkook watches you move. Placing your clothes on top of the dresser, you turn and catch sight of the view.

Pulling aside the curtain, you stare at the night sky and Jungkook stares at you.

“It’s really nice,” you murmur.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Letting the curtain drop, you glance over your shoulder. “I’m sure everyone who stays here has told you that.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Jungkook states the truth, walking forward. “You’re the first person to stay here.”

Eyes wide, you watch as he stops before you. Jungkook hesitates, then lifts a hand to gently cup your jaw. Exhaling softly, your breath drifts across his palm when you shut your eyes.

Jungkook stares at your face, boldly allowing himself to drink you in. Before, he’s always insisted on distance. On the pretense of being the one in control, of pretending he doesn’t feel the incessant pull between you. Now, he allows himself to look and doesn’t conceal his expression.

Gaze dropping to your lips, Jungkook wonders what it would be like to kiss you. You kissed the first night in his car, but not since then – something which was at first, accidental but now is purposeful. Now, it feels like a bridge of intimacy that, if Jungkook were to cross, he won’t be able to return.

It’s safer this way. Sex is just sex, after all – a natural instinct Jungkook knows he’s good at.

Intimacy, though. Affection. These are things Jungkook has never tried and things at which he might fail. Lowering his face, Jungkook gently brushes a kiss to your forehead.

When you shiver, he takes a step backwards. Your eyes open, hazy with want – and something else. Something Jungkook has never seen before.

Swiftly, Jungkook turns and forces himself to leave. “Goodnight,” he says softly, shutting the door.

Dangerous, he thinks, beating a hasty retreat. Wanting you like that is futile because even if he said it aloud, you wouldn’t – couldn’t – want him back.

This doesn’t keep Jungkook from tossing and turning all night though, wishing he’d asked you to sleep in his bed.

[Series Master List]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. 

[eyeofhurakana]

Title: “Bouncing Brings Us All Together” Chapter: 2/3 Pairing: Sampo x Reader Reader: Gender Neutral / Nurse at Natasha’s clinic Relationship Level: Acquaintances with unspoken attraction Trust: Moderate Summary: It’s your day off and you want to take the cable car to Overworld. The only issue is that all the seats are taken up, and it’s going to be a long and bumpy ride. However, Sampo seems to have nabbed a seat…  

[Chapter 1]

What a conundrum...

You could give a value without thoroughly thinking about it. It’d definitely save time. But how much would a seat that’s normally free even be worth? Is he really even that attached to it? Would you look silly or immature for saying the wrong thing? 

Sampo has crossed his legs with his gloved hands resting on his knee. He is still grinning from ear to ear with great interest. Emerald green eyes watch with rapt attention. He’s genuinely curious as to what your first offer will be. 

“Tick tock~. This cable car won’t stay here forever, you know,” he reminds you.  

Just as he says that the overhead intercom blares another announcement, “All passengers, please remain seated. The cable car is now en route to OVERWORLD. All passengers, please remain seated. The cable car is now en route to OVERWORLD.”

The pressure is mounting. 

“20 shields!” 

You went with your gut, but the idea of losing twenty shields still feels a bit icky. 

Oh well. So maybe you’ll forgo eating anything in Overworld. But at least your legs won’t suffer myalgia. Plus the live music is free. And no one ever charges to look at flowers. 

Or at least, this is what you tell yourself to cope. 

“Mm… Just 20?” Sampo replies with an unconvinced pout, “You suuuure about that?”

Your mouth falls open slightly. 

Was twenty really not enough? Your eyes search him for any sign of mischief or deceit, but he’s a difficult read. Maybe you could add another five shields… 

The cable car jerks forward. 

Panic sets in.

You want that seat.

“Gah, 40 shields!” 

Sampo looks upwards to the side again, calculating it out in his mind, before shaking his head. 

“Mm, nuh uh.” 

He won’t even accept doubling your previous offer? Ohhhh, Natasha was definitely going to hear about this. Maybe you could even put it through the Wildfire grapevine for Seele to hear too. The fiasco born out of that would definitely teach him.  

“Sampo…” you say with your face burning up a little, “I can’t go any higher than that.” 

“Oh really?” Sampo asks slyly with an arched brow, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you definitely seem to be carrying much more than you’re willing to offer. Isn’t having this seat important to you? Come on~.”

He’s trying to goad you into going higher, but it backfires. Your face turns stern while your hand hovers protectively near where you keep your shields. 

“It seems I won’t be able to afford it then. That’s fine. Enjoy the trip to Overworld,” you say flatly.

It’s too late now anyway. The cable car has already commenced its ascent. Your legs submit to their unwanted responsibility of having to support you at an insufferable thirty-five degree incline for the next few hours. It's a miserable feeling.

One day you might make it up to them… So long as they don’t give out first. 

Time to migrate again.

You weren’t going to stick around here and let Sampo wheedle you into needless spending. 

Of course, it’s not until you seem very set on moving away that the businessman starts showing signs of nervousness.  

“Wait, hang on a second! No need to leave,” he insists urgently. 

Despite his words, you’re still turning your head about for a route to meander through the dense crowd. As he said before, time is ticking. He quickly uncrosses his legs, leaning forward to grab your wrist. His large gloved hand engulfs it completely, surprising you. 

What else could such big strong hands do? 

Nope. No, no. You’re not going there. 

This is a tactical retreat in progress. 

“Heeeey! What’s the hurry?” Sampo asks with a slight waver in his voice. 

When he notices your grim expression, his face softens almost immediately.  

“I… haven’t offended you, have I? If I have, do let me know. I can’t stand the thought of displeasing a custo- Er, friend.”

You eye him warily for a moment. 

Naturally, he uses the moment to give you his trademark sad puppy eyes. If you give it time, he might even throw in a whimper or two. 

Despite the shamelessness of his gesture, the charged feelings inside your chest dissipate at the sight. It’s strange. You can’t stay mad at him. You even realize that you might be overreacting. 

After all, it’s just a seat. Right?

No. It’s not.

Time to turn the tables.

“Friend, huh?” you reply with light skepticism as you pull your wrist back to fold your arms, “I guess I must be your least favorite friend then.” 

He gasps back at you as though you uttered the largest fallacy in all of Belobog. 

“Whaaaat? Of course not! What would ever make you think that? Did someone tell you that? I want their name. How dare they tell my dearest friend such lies. Your companionship is invaluable to me. I could never imagine myself without it. If that were to happen, then I would be a poor man indeed. So do tell me who put this slander in your head. I will do my utmost to set the record straight,” he tells you with so many theatric tones and gestures that you can’t help but crack a bit of a smile.  

You shake your head at him. What a goofball. 

“Well, no one else said anything to me… Though you did,” you reply with a pointed look.   

“Wha… Me? What did I do?” 

He’s genuinely confused. You can practically see him scrolling in his own mind, recounting every word that was said during the conversation. His eyes flit side to side as he struggles to find where he went wrong. "Wait, was it the-? No... You wouldn't be upset at that... Then..." he murmurs both to himself and a bit toward you. You could leave him like this... 

But that would be mean. 

Besides… you kind of still really wanted that seat.  Though you would have to play a little dirty.

“Really, Sampo? Not a single discount offer? Good friends always offer sweet discounts,” you say, falling in with the theatrical mood, “Not to mention that I’m a nurse. No discounts for even my noble line of work? You must think so lowly of me… To think that all those times I helped patch you up back when you were too scared of Natasha would end up meaning so little to you.” 

You make a mock sniff.

Since the cable car is relatively stuffed to the brim with people, it’s not hard for folks standing right next to you to overhear the conversation. Barely anyone is talking save for a few hushed voices. Most people have their eyes either out the windows or down to the floor in silence. However, at your sudden rise in voice, a few heads start to turn with interest. 

The thoughts scurrying through their minds are obvious. Is that blue-haired scoundrel antagonizing that poor nurse? Why doesn’t he simply give up the seat? Do they know each other? Are they arguing?    

Sampo sits there beneath a deluge of prying eyes. His smile is getting strained, yet his eyes shine with… happiness? 

Are you missing something? 

You’re clearly causing a scene. Why is he so happy about it? 

Oh no… 

“You knooow, you could have always just used the free option,” he offers teasingly as if such an option had been available the entire time, “We are good friends, after all. Honestly, I’m so perplexed as to why you didn’t just pick that in the first place. It’s always available to you.” 

“Free option?” you parrot in disbelief only to feel the cable car jerk forward yet again.

However, this time, it’s the hardest you’ve ever felt. It takes everyone in the car by utter surprise. Everything happens so fast that you can’t react in time. You get thrown forward into Sampo with a yelp. 

Without any delay, Sampo reaches up and firmly catches you by the elbow and hip before you could faceplant into the solid steel wall above him. Your knee finds purchase on the front of his seat, narrowly avoiding his family jewels. A few others aren’t so lucky as several folks knock into one another while others fall completely. 

It’s chaos. 

The once hushed cabin is suddenly abuzz with activity. 

You even manage to catch a glimpse of a bit of smoked olm rolling helplessly across the floor. Someone’s black coffee managed to spill adding yet one more unnecessary scent to the cabin. Long dark streaks travel down the floor and onto people's shoes. Even some money fell to the floor, yet remarkably not a single soul made an effort to snatch it.   

No, the people of Underworld are a hearty bunch as they help one another back up with surprised smiles and relieved laughter.  

Total strangers become sudden acquaintances and the cabin becomes much more chatty. Parents pull on their children, suddenly very grateful to have them safe and sound. People that would have never exchanged words are now exchanging names and experiences.   

“You all right?” Sampo’s voice cuts through your frazzled thoughts. 

You’re still trembling a little from the fright of that sudden lurch. 

That’s never happened before. 

“Almost knocked your head there. What a shame that would have been. A bruise on that pretty little head of yours? No way. Not on my watch,” he says protectively with a proud grin while helping steady you.

He even deepens his voice a little more to really give off the ‘noble protector’ vibe. You wonder if this is his attempt at a Gepard Landau impression. 

A tiny laugh escapes you. Your shaking ceases as you calm down. He’s such a clown, but you're grateful for it. What could have been a terrible situation ends up becoming nothing more than a funny mishap. 

You instinctively grip his forearms to get your feet back on the dusty metal floor while avoiding the still-rolling olm. Heat resonates from his bare skin and into your cold fingers. His whole body must be a bit of a furnace, constantly exuding warmth. He must make for a great personal heater on chilly nights… 

Quickly, you squash that blasphemous thought. 

He just saved you from a concussion. No need to objectify the man. 

Though you wonder if he’d mind…  

“I’m good. Thanks for the assist. I rather not have my first order of business in Overworld today become an emergency visit to the local hospital or dentist.” 

Sampo chuckles back at you, that charming smile of his growing ever more powerful. 

You then recall what he had mentioned before.

“Hey, I feel like I might regret asking… but I’m gonna do it anyway. So what’s the free option?” 

His whole face suddenly lights up. 

It appears he nearly forgot too. 

“I’m so glad you finally asked! You see… I realized there was a way for us both to win in this scenario. You know, since we’re good friends and all.”

Why does he keep saying it like that?  

“Being?” you ask while still harboring a hint of skepticism.

“Cue the drum roll!” he says excitedly while pretending to do air drums, making the sound with his mouth, before suddenly pointing his imaginary drum sticks at you, “We share it!”  What?

You eye him as if you watched his brain literally dislodge itself from his skull in order to go into witness protection. Or was that your brain? 

Nonetheless, this is beyond ridiculous. But in a way, did you really expect much different?  

“...Share how?” you ask as you feel your shins already burning from the neverending incline, “You take up nearly the whole-”   

Sampo then pats his lap all too welcomingly. 

"Well?" he asks with a playful smirk.

"You know there's no better deal than this..."

AN: *cackles* Yes... Yesssss...

Ring-a-ding-ding~! New chapter!

@hearts4saebyeok

[sev-on-kamino]

A song for you: Secret by the Pierces

❤️ - vodika-vibes

Hello @vodika-vibes 💙💙 I’m worried I went too literal, but I also hope I nailed the vibe of the song. I hope you enjoy it!

Anakin & Jedi!Reader (established platonic relationship), mentions of Rex x Jedi!Reader

Rating: T

Word count: 747

After a lengthy training session with the younglings, you were mentally exhausted, and in need of new robes. You ran your hands over one of the burn marks in your sleeve, and laughed softly. You could practically hear your shower calling to you when a large hand grabbed you by your wrist and tugged you into a closet.

You were pushed up against the wall, and you didn’t wait for an introduction before your lightsaber lit up the space. It hummed to life, and you looked up to see Anakin’s face in the golden glow.

“Hello to you too, Anakin. I believe I still answer to a name, which you have been invited to use. The invitation stands,” you said, with a light smirk.

For once Anakin wasn’t smirking back. His face looked eerily serious, and it made you uneasy. Whether that was his intention or not remained to be seen.

“I know,” he said, his eyes boring into yours.

“As Jedi, we’re expected to know a great deal. You’ll need to be more specific.”

He released a humorless laugh, and fixed you with a look.

“I know about you and Rex.”

The statement punched the air out of your lungs, and it took all your concentration to keep your face neutral. How did he know? You were so careful. Rex was so careful. No one knew. Yet here was Skywalker, looming over you with your most closely guarded secret dangling in the air between you.

“What about us, Anakin?”

“Are we doing this? Are you playing this game with me if all people?”

“I’m just asking you to be specific,” you said with a small shrug. You focused on keeping your mind clear and your breaths even. Anakin was like a predator who’d caught scent of prey when he became aware of a secret he wasn’t privy to.

He leaned closer, forcing you to sheath your saber, plunging the pair of you into darkness. If anyone opened the door, this would look like an intimate moment between lovers rather than a showdown between friends.

“I know how you feel about him, and how he feels about you,” Anakin’s breath fanned over your face, which made you squirm.

“We work well together, Anakin, I thought you’d like that.”

“You know what I mean,” he growled.

“No, I don’t. Say exactly what you mean, or let me out of this closet.”

“You love him,” he said finally as though it pained him. “You are attached to him. And he returns your feelings.”

There. It was out in the open between you.

“Will you tell the council? Am I to be dismissed from the Order? Will Rex be…” you couldn’t even say the word out loud. The thought of anything happening to your beloved captain because of you made you sick.

“Of course not,” Anakin said, his voice softening for the first time. “I just…”

“You just what? Decided that intimidating me in a closet was a grand idea?”

“Ugh, this isn’t…” He took a deep breath. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Of course not,” you blurted out.

“You don’t trust me?” He sounded wounded.

“I didn’t say that,” you said, resting a gentle hand against his chest. “Some secrets aren’t meant to be told.”

“We’re supposed to be friends.”

“You didn’t confide in me either, Anakin.”

“That’s different, I-…she’s a-“ Anakin trailed off.

“It’s not different, but you know I’d never tell. I didn’t even confront you about it,” your words held an edge, as he still had you crammed into a closet.

“I know, but you know I wouldn’t tell either,” he said softly. “I care about you and Rex.”

You truly couldn’t tell if this was a genuine hurt, or just Anakin’s love of secrets. Yours had always been his favorite because you were a model student, but you loved trouble. You’d wondered many times if he kept you close out of genuine emotion, or because he liked knowing someone was just as disobedient as him.

“Well, now you know? Are you happy? May I leave the closet?”

He cleared his throat and stepped back.

“If we’re friends, best friends, don’t keep things from me,” he ordered with an undertone of petulance.

“If we’re friends, best friends, trust me to tell you when I’m ready.“ You cleared your throat and straightened up. “I trust this is the last conversation we’ll have about this topic.”

“We’ll see.” And with that he left you standing alone in the dark.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Familiarity — kinkmas 2021

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x afab!gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 900-ish.

✦ summary — scared your visiting family will hear you, you have shower sex with Five.

✦ warnings — nsfw, smut, shower sex, water waste (DON’T. DO. THIS), vaginal sex, unprotected sex (please don’t do this), sex against the wall, praise kink, one use of the word pretty, brief marking, brief biting, some aftercare.

✦ author’s note — this was supposed to come out yesterday, but I didn’t have electricity. Tomorrow’s fic will be out on time.

════════════════════════

Five trapped you between his body and the dresser behind you, hips forward as he pressed his crotch against yours.

“Not now,” you warned him lowly.

Your parents were getting settled in the guest room, tired from their journey. You didn’t need them to hear you moaning Five’s name.

He gave you a small kiss. “They’re not next door.”

“They could still hear us.” You rested your hands on his shoulders. “You said you’d be on your best behavior.”

“I’m in my best behavior,” he defended himself. Trailing kisses down your neck, he added, “I’m trying to be so good to you...”

“Honey...” You wanted him, how could you not? He was such a giving partner and he knew just what to do to drive you to the edge.

“Let’s take a shower,” he suggested. “We haven’t showered together in ages.”

You knew where it would lead if you said yes. And so you did.

He acted as innocently as his lust allowed him to at first — he didn’t even make a comment when you took your clothes off, only stared.

For a moment you thought it would be just a peaceful and intimate shower, but you quickly realized you were wrong.

Five discarded the loofah and smeared bubbly soap on your breasts with his palms, kneading them.

His hands then roamed your body, gripping anything in their wake. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

Leaning closer, he claimed your lips again, his fingers buried themselves in your plush waist while your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer.

His hard cock, now nestled between your thighs, barely grazing your labia, twitched when you bit down Five’s bottom lip.

“Well, baby, I’m gonna fuck you know. We shouldn’t waste too much water.”

Humming, you kissed him one more time and withdrew your arms from him. Attempting to move, you felt his touch growing tighter.

He stopped you from turning around. “No, no. I wanna see your pretty face.”

You inhaled deeply, resting your back against the tiled wall.

Five captured your lips in another kiss, pushing his tongue past your lips, letting himself taste your mouth.

You slipped your hand between your bodies, searching for his cock. Five parted from you and stepped back.

“Oh, come on.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“Five,” you whined.

“You don’t want your family to know how good you sound when you beg for my cock?”

You shook your head.

He attached his lips to your neck and you felt pressure against your pussy. Sucking against your skin, leaving bruises even though he knew they would be a pain to cover, he rested his hands on your hips.

Five smirked. “You’re soaking,” he purred. “Be good for me and keep quiet, all right?”

Easier said than done.

Slowly, he started pushing his cock into you. Your breath hitched and he kept pushing until he was fully in.

As he started moving his hips, you held him by the arms. Five found a rhythm quickly, rocking into you with a familiarity that brought you goosebumps.

You pinched his arm, hoping he would get the hint that you wanted him to go harder.

Happily, he complied and started pounding into you as though the world was about to end and it was the last time he would get to fuck you.

“You look even more gorgeous when I’m fucking you,” he whispered in your ear.

Your nails scratched down his arms with the lingering promise of leaving marks for the morning to come as he snapped his hips without care.

Keeping quiet was torture, even more so when Five didn’t look fazed by having to do so.

The juxtaposition from the burn of his cock against your walls and his composure were driving you crazy. He stuttered in his movements as you clenched around him, and you had to bury your nails into his skin and purse your mouth closed to swallow any sound.

Five bit his bottom lip and found a new rhythm, this time faster as you tightened around him.

The burn inside you extended to your belly, tingly and intense.

“Are you close, angel?”

You didn’t trust yourself with words, you would probably moan if you opened your mouth. So you hummed.

“Look at you,” he sighed. “So perfect.”

He dropped his hand from your hip to your clit. He started rubbing circles, fueling your orgasm.

You grabbed him by the face and brought him closer, hiding your face in his neck. You sucked on his skin, hiding your moans as he slammed his hips into you.

His hips fell out of rhythm so he sped up his fingers on your clit. You scattered marks over his neck, feeling your orgasm roll through you.

Five bit your shoulder, gently, just enough to quiet his groans and moans as he spilled inside you.

Lazily, he moved his hips a couple more times just so both of you could ride your orgasms through.

Struggling to speak, you took a moment to catch to breath. Five did the same.

“I’ll wash you in a second,” he breathlessly assured you.

He kept his promise, tenderly soaping your body up and washing the bubbles away with the shower head.

By the time you were dressed in warm pajamas, the news were over. You wondered how long had you truly been in the shower and if your family had heard anything.

Five joined you in bed and held you against his chest. “Stop worrying,” he told you.

You were too tired to explain how embarrassing the idea of being heard by your family was. So you nuzzled against him and let him turn the lamp off.

[countryclubstarkey]

SOMETHING TO REMEMBER - Sirius Black Smut

Pairings: Sirius Black x Virgin Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, first time, fingering, making out and more

Word Count: 2k+

*Not my Gif

The marauders were quite famous at Hogwarts, known for their pranking and good looks; the group of boys had everyone looking at them at all times. Some people looked at them with hatred, such as Severus Snape and others worshipped the ground they walked on.

You had neutral feelings about them as long as they didn’t mess with you, you were fine with whatever chaos they were causing, plus their good looks and charm were always a nice thing to be around.

Today, the group of boys decided to turn all the Slytherin uniforms Gryffindor red, causing most of them to be in a foul mood. You found it particularly funny, especially when you saw Lucius Malfoy with his platinum hair in the uniform.

Late afternoon on Friday, you were all sitting in potions listening to Slughorn ramble about random topics that he found interesting when suddenly a student knocked on the door.

“Professor Slughorn, Professor McGonagall needs you for something important,” a random second-year student told him. “I’ll be back soon everyone, please read page 300 in the meantime.”

Nobody truly listened to him; instead, everyone turned to their friends.

Feeling a sudden warmth around your ear and you turned to see Sirius Black closing in and leaning towards you. You and Sirius had a strange relationship; he would flirt with you at any chance he could just to see you blush, and to be honest, you didn’t mind the attention.

“So you coming to my party tonight?” he whispered gently in your ear. Your body covered with chills because of how close he was.

“I don’t think so; I have a lot to study.”

A pouty expression made its way on his face, “cmon it’s my birthday; it would mean a lot to the birthday boy.”

Before you could reply, Professor Slughorn made his way back into the room and began his lesson again with just a few minutes left of class. As you were heading back to your dorm room after, a loud booming sound echoed throughout the hall calling your name, “Y/N, wait up.”

Sirius was rushing across the hall trying to reach you, “you never said yes, you know,” the fit boy told you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders to guide you to your dorm.

“Fine, I’ll come for a little bit, and that’s only because I want to talk to Remus about this new book that came out last month,” you mentioned.

Little chuckles escaped his lips as he found your slight obsession with books adorable, but he would never mention that to you at least not right now. “We both know you’re coming for me, darling, save me dance,” Sirius said while walking away, causing you to let out a deep sigh because of how he was making you feel.

Meanwhile, when you got back to your dorm, you decided to pick what to wear to the party and got ready since you only had a little bit of time before it became dark. Whenever any of the marauders threw a party, they tended to get a little wild and out of control so you had to prepare yourself for that.

When nighttime finally hit, you met up with Lily, Alice, Marlene and Mary to head to the party together. Glowing lights brightly lit the Gryffindor common room, the smell of alcohol and weed flowing through the air and the music was loudly played throughout the room. No doubt the music choice were all Sirius’s favourite muggle songs.

You saw the birthday boy and James singing along to whatever song they could their hands on while dancing on the tables already out of their minds. Remus and Peter were trying to get them down before they injured themselves but they were having trouble standing up themselves.

“Guess we have to catch up,” Marlene grinned and dragged all of you to the table that offered the fire whiskey. After several shots, you were finally relaxed and in a similar mindset as the boys. As time went on, you danced and took even more shots with everyone at the party, including Remus, who decided to let loose tonight. Everyone was having the time of their lives, nobody thought about what was going on outside of Hogwarts, but only the party in the Gryffindor common room.

Around 3 a.m, people started heading back to their rooms, and only you, Lily, Marlene, Mary, Alice, Frank and the marauders were left sitting on the couches.

“Let’s play spin the bottle,” Mary suddenly brought up and pulled everyone in a circle. Mary decided to spin the bottle first, and it landed on Marlene; the two girls didn’t hesitate and shared a sweet but intimate kiss.

“That was too easy for you guys,” Remus blurted out, suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol. The girls shrugged while giggling as Marlene spun the bottle and it landed on James. James gave her a quick peck out of respect for Lily.

Next, James spun the bottle, and it landed on Sirius Black.

“No, Padfoot, cmon not again,” James groaned out, not interested in kissing his best mate. Curiously, Alice said, “what do you mean not again?”

Sirius winked, “That’s a story for another time; let’s go prongs, pucker up.” James and Sirius leaned in and gave each other a quick kiss before wiping it off as soon as they finished. The whole group erupted into laughter over the discomfort they saw in the two.

As the laugher started to die down, you began to grow nervous as you noticed it was Sirius’s turn to spin the bottle, and just because of your luck, the bottle landed on you.

Sirius moved towards you, “May I?” You nodded your head at him as you both gradually leaned in and connected your lips. Sirius could feel how nervous you were, so he allowed you to make the next move without pushing you any further.

You deepened the kiss when you felt at ease and could taste cigarettes, fire whiskey and a hint of honey lingering on his lips.

Sirius raised his hand to caress the soft skin of your jaw as he slipped his tongue slowly past your lips, trying to savour this moment as much as he could. Both of you didn’t realize the others were still there until you heard someone clear their throat. Sirius sighed against your lips before giving you one last peck and pulling away to look at your friends again.

The awkward moment passed as time went on, and one by one, everyone went to bed until it was only you and Sirius.

“You know this wasn’t a one-time thing; I really wanted to kiss you, love. I’ve actually liked you for a while now,” Sirius broke the silence and grabbed your hand.

You smiled at him, returning his actions, “I wanted to kiss you too Sirius.” A big grin made its way across his face as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap.

This time you closed the distance between the two of you as your hands grasped his precious locks. The kiss got deeper and more intense with time. You pulled away to steady your breathing as Sirius attached his lips to your jaw, nipping at the skin. Sirius loved the way your skin felt on his lips as he left kisses all across your neck and jaw.

“We should stop before we do something you might regret,” Sirius tried pulling away, but you captured his face and brought him back into the kiss.

In a soothing tone, “I’m not going to regret doing anything with you because I have feelings for you too, I’m sure Sirius,” you told him. Suddenly, Sirius stood up with you wrapped around his body as he headed towards the door of the common room.

“Where are we going,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible. “Somewhere that’s going to give us a little more privacy.”

A door appeared out of nowhere on one of the walls allowing Sirius to step in. It was a replica of the Gryffindor common room except a king-sized bed in the middle. He settled you on the bed as he began kissing down your body, not leaving an inch uncovered.

You helped him unbutton your shirt as he started to kiss your exposed breasts, leaving love bites that you’ll cherish in the morning. “Siri-us,” your moans filled the room as you pulled his hair from the pleasure.

“Fuck, I love your tits,” his words made you blush as you tried to hide your face in your arms, but he didn’t give you the chance to do so. He took off your shirt and bra as he began palming and teasing your nipples, causing chills to gather around your body. You tried to take his shirt off, but his actions stopped you midway. One hand continued to caress your tits, but his other hand started to rub you through your panties, trying to gather your arousal.

“Darling, are you trying to kill me,” he groaned out. Sirius took your panties off but kept your skirt on as he began rubbing your bare cunt.

“We can stop anytime, you know, are you sure you want me to continue,” he asked you one last time. You nodded your head furiously at him trying to get him to continue, “I need words Y/N.”

“Yes, please,” you told him as he entered one finger through your folds and teased your clit with his thumb. Feeling your body clench hard around him as you tried to adjust to the new feeling. Once your body relaxed; he sped up his movements and added another finger.

You felt a foreign feeling on your clit, as something wet started licking at it. Sirius’s head was between your legs as his tongue worked on your clit and his fingers in your pussy. The new action created a different feeling, a good difference. “Plea-se, don’t stop. I’m going to cu-,” you panted as you felt your stomach twist and clench.

“Let go for me,” Sirius groaned out as he felt you release on his tongue and fingers. He helped you calm down after your orgasm by rubbing your thighs whispering praises throughout the entire process. When your eyes opened, Sirius was leaning over and looking at you with lust and love in his eyes. You felt his bulge rubbing against your body as he began peppering kisses on your face.

You both helped him out of his clothes so that he was left bare. His cock stood proudly as the red tip was oozing already with pre-cum and the rest throbbing. He switched your positions so that he was laying underneath you now as you sat in his lap in nothing but your skirt from earlier tonight, quickly; he casted a contraception spell.

His hands rubbed down his cock to get it ready for your next move.

“Ready?” the raven-haired boy asked. His thumbs rubbing circles around your hips, reassuring you if you had any regret you can back out now.

You nodded and braced yourself before slowly lowering yourself on his cock. Your breathing increased as he stretched you out, the pain increased as you went down inch by inch, his face scrunched up in pain and pleasure as he wanted nothing more than to thrust fully into you.

“Love, it’ll feel a lot better if you relaxed,” he told you, trying to make this pleasurable for you both when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

You controlled your breathing as you felt your muscles loosen and the pain became more bearable. He felt you relax around him as it became more pleasurable rather than painful. Sirius gently thrusted trying to see your reactions at a slow pace; with a nod and brief bounce, his thrusts got quicker.

Pleasurable moans left your lips as his cock hit spots that you weren’t familiar with; you began returning his thrusts and tried to control the movements yourself when you felt more comfortable. Nails started dragging down his chest when Sirius angled his hips differently, causing him to aim at your g-spot.

“Darling, you feel so nice and tight,” he groaned out, trying to last a little longer but your pussy preventing it. He dragged your body towards his own and began rapidly thrusting, causing the room to be filled with your loud moans. His lips connected to your neck, breasts and anything else that he could find. He saw your mouth fall open when his finger made contact with your clit as he rubbed a figure-eight motion helping you reach climax.

“I’-m close,” you groaned in his ear as your body began shaking and the tight feeling made its way back in your stomach. Sirius didn’t stop when he felt you cum all over his cock, he continued working you through your orgasm while trying to reach his at the same time.

“Sh-it” he exclaimed as he released his cum. You felt his cum mix with yours as it dripped out leaking onto your thighs and the bed.

Once both of you came down from your high, you slowly got off Sirius to lay down beside him cuddling into his warm body. The only sounds in the empty room were your heavy breathing and the light rain that was hitting the windows. The air began to feel cooler as you snuggled deeper into Sirius, burying your head in his chest.

“How was that for you,” his beautiful voice genuinely asked you.

In a calm tone, “Something worth remembering” you told him as your eyes started to flutter away.

[binniesthighs]

dear anon, sweet anon, thank you so much for requesting this <3 i didn’t know that i needed it in my life and now...here it is;) IT WAS SO FUN hehe

melt in your mouth | reader x jisung

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x han jisung 

Genre: that good good smut 

Summary: After hearing a rather interesting story about a certain brand of chocolate aphrodisiacs, your curiosity gets the best of you and your friend’s roommate, Jisung.....a spin off of bites like bittersweet

Word count: 3.7k 

*photocreds to OP!

{see below for tags, nsfw and warnings!} 

Tags: aphrodisiac au, somewhat friends to lovers, hints of mutual pining, bestfriend!seungmin, seungmin’sroommate!jisung, hardswitch!jisung, hardswitch!reader, explicit language, mentions of food/eating, hand stuff (r &m), degredation, petnames, dirty talk, unprotected sex (stay safe cuties), creampie, voyeurism, and we love a plot twist ;)  

~💋~

two flavors seemed excessive. one flavor seemed like just enough. you didn’t want to break the bank or anything on something that was likely crappy quality or potentially psychedelic; even worse, it could be both. 

“and you want to try these with me why?” seungmin pushed his wire-framed glasses up his nose bridge and scrunched it up. he inspected the paper wrapper with a skeptical glare. the design itself was anything but trustworthy: in swirly cursive pink font, the name Cherri Amore and under it, a absurdly large lipstick mark with the outline of a couple doing what must have been fucking “spread eagle.” 

seungmin muttered, leaning over the counter of the dingy kitchen he shared with his roommates, “proven aphrodiasiac and libido booster...? y/n, sorry, i just--i’m fucking lost here--” 

“--ever heard of trying something for the hell of it seung??” you snatched the bar from his hand. “the review that i read online said that it made them crazy fucking horny, so much so that they fucked their best friend of something like five years or something like that. isn’t that insane?!” 

your best friend’s eyes blew out with his mouth aghast, “what the hell?? shit--of course you’d find something insane on the internet like this and drag me into it...”  

in your incredulous laugher, you threw your neck back so hard it hurt a little. “loosen up! it’s probably a scam or something. plus...if it does work on us...don’t act like i haven’t caught you in the act before...” 

seungmin, ever the angel, flushed a shade of fuchsia you thought inhumanly possible for someone to attempt. “that-that wasn’t--that wasn’t what you thought it was!!!” he cast away the chocolate bar as if it were his dick on the very night that you had walked in on something that was supposedly not what it looked like. 

“relax!” you punched your embarrassed friend on the arm which he dramatically rubbed into. “it’s not a sin to jerk off or anything. hell, i do it....obviously.” 

seungmin chuckled out unsteadily, “well, um, what if it does work then, what do we do?” 

you snickered, “ha! hell if i know. cross that bridge when we get there?” 

“so what you’re saying is...this could either be a massive waste of our time, or, both of us get so stupidly turned on that we decide to have sex....with eachother?” 

“that’s the gist i’m getting.” you took to the corner of the shiny pink paper wrapping at the corner. “but...who said that we had to fuck or anything...?” 

from fuchsia to nearly scarlet, seungmin averted his eyes at the speed of light. 

“seung!!! do you have something to tell me?!” your teasing grin spread wide and you lifted your hand to give your adorable friend a clap on the back. 

“i’m just repeating what you said!!” 

you broke the bar open, cracking off the first square on the counter with a solid snap. with a smirk, you offered it to your friend. he reached out, only to nearly jump out of his skin when the old-timey ringtone from his phone erupted in the hollow kitchen. 

“shit.” he murmured under his breath, pulling it out and immediately pressing the call button upon seeing the caller. “h-hello? yeah? wait, wait...slow down...the cultures did what?! and you have to start over?? shit--” 

before you could have anything to do with it, your friend was already throwing on his sneakers and sky blue raincoat. “sorry, y/n but i have to go. that was my co-worker, they said that something went bad with the incubator, and all of the cultures are ruined, and there’s the stupid lab meeting in the morning--” 

“i’m gonna pretend that i understood everything you said.” you hung at the doorway to the kitchen, observing him trip over pairs of shoes and other random-ass college-aged boy items. “you only get a pass because i have a feeling that the coworker we’re talking about here is the cute one.” 

your friend rolled his eyes, mouthing a reluctant, “yes.” 

“fine then. we can try the chocolates another time.” 

“fine--sure--” seungmin grabbed for the handle, “sorry. again.” 

~💋~

you felt like the chocolate bar was taunting you, just sitting there opened with two squares all ready for the eating. oddly, you really couldn’t figure out exactly why you had wanted to try them in the first place. for a second, the guilt and loneliness started to seep through and it felt sticky, pathetic, and stung like thorns right into your breaths. 

“fuck it.” you whispered under your breath, swiping them all up and walking over to the trash can. 

“whatcha got there?” a voice entered the room attached to one of seungmin’s roommates, jisung. 

the two of you had met many times in passing, and you had shared enough small talk to consider him somewhat of an acquaintance. from what you had gathered about the boy, he spent much too much time in his room working on his animations and was the dictionary definition of one of those cocky-assholes you had a soft spot for. 

“jisung--hey. it’s...it’s nothing. something stupid that i blew my money on.” 

“let me see.” he crossed the room, looking wired and overtired as usual. 

from staring at his screen for so long his eyes bagged with dark circles, but somehow it made him look mischievous, or something like that. his muscle tank had been cut low to reveal his sides and ribs which flared when he grabbed for the bar of chocolate. 

“huh.” he scoffed, “i’ve seen like, infomercials for these things. you were going to try it?” 

“yeah...i-i mean--no...i was.” 

“what’s stopping you? not curious anymore?” 

“window of opportunity passed.” 

“i don’t think so.” he grinned, matter of a fact. “i like chocolate.” 

you couldn’t quite believe what was being said to you at first. jisung, the boy that you barely knew, was standing there with his goofy heart-shaped smile and all, holding libido boosters and asking you to take them with him. 

“you do know what those are, right? what they could do?” 

immediately, he popped one in his mouth, nearly like it was a challenge. “empahsis on the “could.”” 

he held them closer to you, prompting you to take the remaining square which was flecked with little red hard-candy looking bits. 

“fine then. you’re right. what they could do.” you downed the candy, crunching it and finding that the quality was certainly not a guarantee. the thing itself tasted halfway between a tootsie roll and cold medicine. “fuck.” 

jisung laughed, throwing the rest of the bar away.

“what did you that for?” 

“i’m guessing whether they work or not, you might not need them anymore.” 

your friend’s roommate slicked his hair back, and ruffled it over his dark eyes. his face was slightly puffed with exhaustion, but it didn’t make him any less handsome. 

“so we wait now?” you asked, glancing at the clock. 

“wanna order some food or something?” he smacked his lips, “i need a fucking chaser after that.” 

~💋~

you didn’t know what time it was; late, probably. after a couple hours of realizing that nothing was really going to happen to you or your friend’s roommate, you had decided to stop expecting it. although, you had kind of hoped...

the sofa that the boys shared was just about as comfortable as you had remembered it. it was large enough to hold you and seungmin’s two roommates on better days, but, once again, random-ass college-boy stuff cluttered at least half of it. it was one of those “dumpster finds” and kind of smelled like a grandma’s house, but honestly, that was what made it so comfortable. 

the tv carried on, playing some kind of animated movie that jisung had chosen claiming that the director was some kind of “god of animation and storytelling.” you liked the colors, but soon you felt yourself being lulled and drowsy: your head felt heavy simply resting on your shoulders. 

your eyelids fogged, and the sounds from the tv set started to fade into inexistence. beside you, jisung had crossed his arms, but the lack of space had pressed both of your thighs together, and the warmth from his leg started to wash over your drowsy state. your head bobbed, swayed...then fell, directly onto his shoulder. had you been more lucid, you would have cared more. 

“oh--” he jumped slightly, and shifted awkwardly. 

the room darkened and soon all you could see was the thin line of light that your half-open eyes allowed. 

“this-this can’t be comfortable for you.” jisung hushed and clicked the tv off. “hey, you should be heading to bed anyway, it’s late.” 

“are you kicking me out, jisung?” you babbled, not really aware of your own words. 

your friend’s roommate chuckled, straightening his posture to support you. “i’m not gonna make you walk back to your place at this time of night.” 

“it’s only a couple of blocks--” 

“--you’ve slept over here before, haven’t you?” 

you stretched out your arms with a little squeak.

“yeah. on the couch.” 

“you...can’t do that. you’d have to sleep in a fucking corkscrew if you did that.” 

“yeah, i know.” you giggled, now finding yourself in a kind of stupor that made you wonder if the chocolates really were doing their job. “i’ll just take seung’s bed then--” 

“--he’s! not back...yet.” jisung hugged his arms to himself. “i dunno, shouldn’t he have his bed when he comes back?” he cleared his throat, composing himself. “of course, there’s space in my bed if you’d like.” 

“me? sleep with you?” 

“yes, with me.” just as he had before, that little challenging edge coated his tone, “only if you’re comfortable i mean. i guess that i’m forgetting that the most that the two of us have shared yet is some wack-ass chocolate so, i shouldn’t be making any assumptions.” 

“no, no!” you pounced off from the couch, reaching high to the ceiling to stretch out your sore back next. and, perhaps to let your shirt tuck up just a little bit as you did so. “i don’t have a problem with it.” 

jisung nodded, grinning in the half-lit room, cleaning away to-go boxes. you had noticed before, but the way that his triceps tensed when he moved around was really just a little too distracting. 

“you can head on in, but--be quieter about it. jeongin is sleeping in here.” 

you clicked off a sleepy salute, following the hall down exactly where you had known his room to be, but you had never entered it before. it didn’t surprise you, but it was just as messy as the rest of the place was, and you had to tip-toe around god-knows what to find your way.

after tripping on something soft and sort of damp, (which you prayed was a shower-towel) you made your way to jisung and his face illuminated by the blue-glow of his phone screen where he had immediately jumped in bed after navigating through the room much more skillfully than you had.  

“you have an issue if i sleep in my underwear?” you asked, realizing. 

jisung paused, wide eyed, but quickly fell back into his casual and cocky smirk. “i mean, that’s basically what i’m doing so...”  

“scooch over. i hope you’re not a blanket hogger or anything.” 

the bed was already pleasantly warm from jisung having occupied it. it would have felt amazing if you had been as tired as you had been moments ago, but now your entire body felt horribly wide-awake. 

“--and if you start to snore, i’m leaving you for the couch, got it?” 

jisung let out an airy laugh, shifting and creaking the bed a bit under him, “i don’t snore...for your information.” 

with the blankets pulled up to your nose, you turned to lay on your back, eyes finally adjusting to the darkness of the room. above you, the faint green glow of glow-in-the-dark stars sprinkled across the ceiling, making up constellations: from what you could make out, the big dipper was above jisung’s bed, and the little one was above jeongin’s, who peacefully slept with tiny breaths. 

jisung rolled to the side, accidently brushing his bare leg against yours. 

“night, y/n. sorry the chocolates didn’t work out. would’ve been kind of hilarious if they did.” 

“psh.” you rolled over too, closing your eyes, “you saying you would’ve taken up the opportunity to get in my pants?” 

“guess we’ll never know.” he sighed. 

~💋~

birds chirped, signaling the coming sunrise what was nearly breaking upon the horizon, and filled with deep blue sky with a type of orange-glow. the room was dim and stuffy, and noticeably much hotter than you remembered it being before. over the course of the night, you had tangled your legs with the sheets, finding them trapping you between them, and you shuffled to escape them and feel the air hit your skin. they shifted, letting you feeling the sticky mess between your legs. 

“what the--” the aching and heated desire made itself painfully obvious, soaking directly through your underwear, making a wet mess of them where you throbbed with an utterly unexplainable arousal that reverberated in your core. 

the friction from your legs only heightened the sensation, and you found yourself unwillingly rutting down into the mattress just to feel an ounce of relief. 

fuck, the chocolates, you recalled. while you had expected to feel something from them, this was twenty times more intense than anything you could have planned for. 

you were like an animal in heat, vulnerable, weak, dazed. your body set ablaze, and it only made sense to strip of any and all clothing that held you back. in your own desperation, you had completely forgotten about the man resting next to you. 

“y/n? what's--what are you doing?” jisung groggily croaked in a tone several octaves lower than you were accustomed to. your brain could only calculate it is as downright, unbelievably sexy. 

“jisung, i’m fucking burning up, an-and, i think i’m finally feeling something....are you?” 

he hadn’t noticed it at first until he did, but from where he could see where the blanket dipped all the way down to your waist, you were completely bare. with fluttering eyes, he gulped down dry. you noticed the way that he took you all in, looking at every inch of you. you reveled in how he greedily and shamelessly didn’t stop. 

under the covers, his own legs twisted. 

“me too.” he answered gravely, speaking with a low whisper.  

carefully, his tentative touch advanced under the covers, slowly reaching to your bare hip, where he settled a testing caress, squeezing harder, then cascaded down the small of your back to make you shiver. your own hand did the same, instead finding his leg and creeping your hand up and under his shirt. little space existed between the two of you, and only the panting of your heavy inhales and exhales could be heard. 

your eyes glued to his, beautifully brown and dilating, trembling a little while holding yours. from his light touches, it took every bit of your will to control yourself from launching over him. jisung’s hand fell lower, and toyed with the elastic band of your underwear which had started to feel painfully confining. each of your own fingers traveled up his torso, brushing over his chest which made his whole body shake. 

“sh-shit, i’m so fucking--” jisung started, dropping off his words to let out a wavering sigh. you didn’t need to guess any further. 

jisung slid two fingers under your elastic band, and it became too much to handle. 

“please, touch me jisung.” you whined out pitifully, clawing directly into the soft muscles of his back. 

you were shocked how quickly he had given into you, immediately crashing his lips against yours first, then using both arms to pull you into his chest so close it stole all of your breath away. you kissed him back roughly, ravenous to feel the sensation of his mouth against your own. he growled out a small groan directly into your lips, sloppily working every single corner and edge of your mouth with a devilish smile curling his own. 

lower, both of your hips met flush, grinding and twisting to create the kind of pressure that the both of you craved. limbs twisted, sweating and heated skin mingled, and you could feel every bit of his hardened cock right against your own arousal and how his shaft throbbed helplessly. 

“you taste so good.” he murmured between haphazard kisses, letting his low tone vibrate against you. 

“take these off.” you ordered, tugging at his boxers, nearly taking them off yourself. 

“take yours off.” he echoed, and you did. 

curious hands plunged deeper, delighting fingers in the slick of the other’s cum. 

“fuck.” jisung dragged the explicative over your lip where he lapped lazily into you. “don’t stop.” 

you gave him a moment’s pause, stopping to wet your palm with saliva, then met it with his cock. you worked his length with the sharp and twisting turn of your wrist, causing him to whimper out shamelessly. 

“shhh.” you hissed, pulling his lip with our teeth, “don’t want to wake up your roommate do we?” 

he nodded, biting each and every tantalizing little sound into his lip instead. your own breaths grew shallow feeling the pressure from his hand between your legs and how he had grabbed into your thigh to swing it over his hip for better access. 

“wouldn’t you like me to fuck you out, baby? fuck you like the good little cock whore that you are for me? i’ve seen the way that you look...you’ve wanted this...haven’t you?” jisung’s words were slick and luxurious despite their bite.  

to suppress the begging moan in your throat, you cupped your hand over your mouth, and pressed hard into it. 

the blanket tented from your pulling at his cock and how you rubbed over his slit: it was an ethereal sight even in the blurriness of the room. 

slowly, you leaned over to his ear, waist rocking back and forth over the sensation of his hand rubbing into you relentlessly. “don’t lie baby, you want my ass bouncing on your cock...don’t you?” 

in one movement, he swept his full body weight over yours and harshly pulled your legs back to open your entrance just for him to tease with his tip. he guided himself in slowly and meticulously, bottoming out once you had sunk your fingers into his shoulders to manage some of the screams you would have let out otherwise. 

“fuck yes, baby.” jisung growled, finding an animalistic pace that burned your whole body with white flames of pleasure. 

you grew impatient wondering furiously what his cute little pouty cheeks would look like when you fucked him from above, riding his dick. you wouldn’t wait any further, taking your grasp on his shoulders to then flip him, settling your hips over his dick which you pounced on to the tune of one of his moans slipping past, loud and guttural. 

“shut. the fuck. up.” you scolded him, throwing your hand over his pretty mouth. he whimpered out once again, eyes rolling feeling the tip of his dick reach as deeply inside of you as you would let it.  “cum inside me sungie, i won’t stop until I have every last drop.” 

jisung nodded, chest flaring as his breaths quickened. 

“cum for me baby, and i’ll cum for you...got it?” your breathy whispers scratched your throat, but you needed him to hear. 

you held his eyes which glistened with two pretty little tears that fell  as he came hard, shaking with his whole body and letting each of his gleeful moans come spiraling into your hand. 

your own heat came surging, right at your core, growing....growing...

a lamplight flashed on. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? WHAT THE--WHAT THE--” 

jeongin threw his sheets over his eyes, while shuddering. “I WAS FUCKING SLEEPING!!” 

his shrill scream sent you jumping out of your lust, and you scrambled off jisung’s throbbing and pink cock, and forgetting the force of gravity, which sent his cum dripping out from inside of you. in your panic, you grabbed at anything to cover up your body and his, only to get so tangled that you lost your balance on the edge of the bed and.....

~💋~

THUMP 

your body hit the wooden floor of jisung and jeongin’s room, right on your butt where you knew that it would be hurting for weeks. 

as disoriented as you were, it took you a good few minutes to realize what had actually just happened. 

“y/n?” jisung called with his groggy half-awake, half-asleep tone. “did you just fall out of the bed?” 

on the opposite side of the room, you whipped your head over to see jeongin still peacefully sleeping with his back turned to jisung’s bed.

“fuck--um, yeah. i did. shit...” 

jisung chuckled in the dark room just barely peeking with the first bits of the sunrise in streaming into the room. 

“i don’t know how you did that considering i gave you plenty of space. get back up here.” 

still dazed and brain overheating, you could have sworn you felt the little aftershocks of the orgasm that felt so real still coursing through your body. 

you felt it too: the way that your underwear had slicked. some part of it all must’ve been real. 

“jisung--” you started, not even sure if you wanted to tell him in the first place. “are you certain that you didn’t feel anything?” 

jisung turned to face you and shook his head, “no, you?” 

you hesitated, holding his eyes to see that he must have been telling the truth. 

“i just...i just had this insane dream...” 

“dream? about what?” 

“it’s hard to explain...” you trailed. 

“you look kind of shaken up, are you sure that you’re okay?” jisung extended a careful hand, and smoothed down the side of your face in the way that had felt frighteningly real only seconds ago. his hand lingered, falling down your neck and giving you goosebumps. your eyes fell to his lips, and you wondered if they would taste like you had imagined them to be. 

you leaned in closer, closing the gap. 

“it went something like this.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim

[miraculouscontent]

A Change of Heart (post-”Miraculous New York”)

"Kaalki, divide!"

Ladybug felt Kaalki's light wash over her, the kwami emerging and flying a small distance away. They were up on one of the rooftops in New York, overlooking an interview that was happening on the street.

Kaalki hummed in interest, taking the time to see the tall buildings. "What a grand city." Then, her gaze dropped down and she squinted, adding with distaste, "Quite crowded though."

"There's an interview going on right now. That's why. One of their supervillains was just taken down," Ladybug explained, placing her foot up on the edge of the building and peering down to look at the crowd.

"And, what precisely are we here for?" Kaalki asked, hovering near Ladybug's face to follow her gaze.

"Not what, but who. We’re here to see Eagle," Ladybug answered, pointing at the eagle-themed superheroine being interviewed. The crowd was enthusiastically cheering at just about every answer Eagle was giving, and Ladybug couldn't help smiling at the fact that the person she gave the miraculous to was still doing well.

As the interview came to an end, Eagle's eyes shifted from the interviewer to Ladybug, who had made sure to be where the red-and-black of her suit would stand out; she wasn't exactly the definition of "stealthy," and it worked to her advantage in this case.

Eagle jumped up to the nearest rooftop, then waited for the crowd to disperse before leaping over to where Ladybug was. "Hey, Ladybug! What are you doing here?" Her brows creased in seriousness, and she held her fists up like she was raring for a fight. "Did Hawk Moth come back to New York?"

Ladybug waved dismissively. "No, no, it's nothing like—"

"Pardon me," Kaalki said, making sure she was loud enough to be heard. She puffed her chest out haughtily and gestured to herself with a hoof. "I'm Kaalki, the kwami of migration. Pleased to meet you," she said, her tone forced as to imply that she didn't appreciate being ignored.

"Uh... hi," Eagle greeted flatly, then looked to Ladybug for an explanation.

"Sorry about her. She was my ride." Grabbing Eagle's wrist and leading her to the center of the rooftop, where they were less likely to be seen from the streets, she explained, "Anyway, I came here because I was hoping that I could get your help."

Eagle leaned to the side, curious. "My help? What for?"

"Well..." Ladybug hesitated. "This is going to sound like a weird request, but..."

—————

Eagle crossed her arms in thought, still seemingly absorbing the explanation. "You want me to use Liberation on you? To get rid of your—"

"—romantic attachments," Ladybug cut in stiffly, the word 'crush' and 'love' sounding extremely un-Ladybug-like. She blushed in embarrassment and looked away, bringing a hand up to partly hide her face. "Listen, I know you probably don't get this sort of thing. It's already awkward to talk about it while I'm Ladybug, but—"

"No, I get it," Eagle assured, though her expression was neutral.

Ladybug looked at her in surprise. "You do?"

With a slight roll of her eyes, Eagle replied, "Okay, so I don't get all the love stuff exactly, but Uncanny Valley has her own thing for me to deal with. She always wants to help people; she can't help it. Besides, Liiri says that there's always something stopping people from reaching their full potential. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's good, and it's my job to figure out what it is." She glanced Ladybug up and down, as if to gauge something. "You really think it's that bad?"

Ladybug responded with a wince, bad memories already starting to surface.

"Alright, wow," Eagle said, hands raised as she took a step back, the reaction having already convinced her while she herself clearly wanted no details about it. "Are you ready then? You know this is only going to last five minutes, right?"

"Wait—" Ladybug blinked in surprise. "You're really going to help me?"

"Yeah?" Eagle replied. Half-offended, she asked, "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"No! Sorry!" Ladybug rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "You'd be... surprised, by how bad this stuff usually goes for me."

For a moment, Eagle looked tempted to ask, but shook off the thought just as quickly. Placing her fists to her chest, her gaze went firm, showing that she was ready.

Ladybug stood in place, almost nervous at the prospect of doing this. She was essentially taking out a piece of herself, but it was the only way to test it; the only way to know for sure.

"Liberation!" Eagle called out, spreading her arms as a single light burst out of her.

Ladybug flinched, her fighting instinct kicking in, but she held firm and let the light touch her. For a moment, she was frozen, able to sense Eagle's presence in her mind and even hear her voice. Eagle's voice was calm, but tempting, offering the freedom so desperately desired.

"Ladybug, your love has taken over your life. I release you from it!"

—————

Marinette quickly stashed the glasses in her purse as she checked her phone's timer. She had four minutes and forty-five seconds to do this, and she took a steady breath before stepping out of the alley she'd been hiding in.

As she raced across the street, the fencing students were just filing out out of Françoise Dupont. The moment she saw Kagami and Adrien leaving, she raised a hand, raising her voice so she'd be heard. "Hey, Adrien!"

Adrien and Kagami stopped and glanced her way. Adrien turned to Kagami, saying something and briefly tilting his head in Marinette's direction. Kagami nodded at him in response, and they separated, Kagami heading in one direction and Adrien heading in Marinette's.

At first, Marinette was nervous, her worst case scenario being that Liberation had truly failed or worn off when she de-transformed, or that her feelings were somehow so strong or messed up that even Liberation somehow couldn't help her.

Yet, as Adrien approached, she found that she wasn't shaky at all. Her heart wasn't pounding either. She didn't even feel the slightest bit of awe from his presence.

She was normal. She was okay.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien greeted with a smile. "Did you need something?"

It took her a moment to answer, still stunned that it'd worked and she'd truly been freed of her crush, even if it was for five minutes. "Oh. No, actually, just..." She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, checking the time, then kept it at her side as she asked genuinely, "How was fencing?"

Adrien looked briefly caught off guard, though whether he was surprised at her acting differently or just the question was anyone's guess. He then brightened, replying excitedly, "It was great! I got paired up with Kagami again, and you know how Mr. D'Argencourt is with fencing, so he..."

The conversation continued as nothing but casual from there, and Marinette almost felt silly at how amazed she was by such a simple thing. It was actually like she was Adrien's friend; like they were on the same page and she could actually hold a conversation with him. He looked and talked the same way he always did, yet she was perfectly fine. Students passed by and maybe tossed them a brief glance, but completely ignored them otherwise because she wasn't acting "weird."

At worst, she was grinning just a little wider out of the pleasant surprise of the whole thing.

When she'd first thought to "liberate" herself of her feelings for Adrien, she was certain she'd be disappointed by it. She honestly thought that she would see Adrien and miss the heart fluttering, the weak knees, and the sheer dreaminess he used to radiate.

But she was wrong. With her crush gone, she could see herself from an outside perspective and reflect without fretting over the things she would've otherwise. Where she thought there'd be disappointment, there was relief that she could actually breathe and not turn into a mess around him. Her mind wasn't clouded with thoughts, and her eyes could drift wherever she wanted without some brainless thought intruding and warning her that she might miss Adrien blinking if she looked away.

She'd needed this. It was nice; more than nice even. Is this how it could be all the time if she truly moved on from him? No more mocking, no more jealousy, no more "crazy Marinette"? It'd be like a celebrity crush that she grew out of; an embarrassing memory of the past and nothing more.

More importantly, she would remember this. She would remember this feeling; the sanity of not being in love with Adrien, or not feeling whatever that emotion was actually called. To say the word "love" seemed so... wrong.

Still mid-discussion with Adrien, Marinette's phone suddenly beeped with a warning message. She turned it in her hand, seeing that she'd properly set the timer earlier to warn her when there was a minute and half left of Liberation.

Adrien leaned over to look at the screen, but jumped when a loud honking noise abruptly sounded off from behind him. Marinette tried not to snicker, but it was difficult; seeing someone else be the jumpy one was quite the experience, and she'd have to remember that too.

Adrien looked over his shoulder at his limo waiting for him, then glanced back at her apologetically. "Sorry, I gotta go. Can we talk later?"

"Oh, sure! Definitely!" Marinette stashed her phone back in her purse, then waved to him. "See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Marinette!" Adrien exclaimed, waving as he rushed off. "It was fun talking to you!"

"You too!"

Marinette pursed her lips, trying to contain herself as she watched Adrien get into the limo and ride off down the street. She waited until it was out of earshot, then let herself start squealing, even hopping around and doing a twirl for effect.

"M-marinette?!" Tikki called, concerned. "Did it wear off? There's still time—"

"I'm gonna delete all my Adrien pictures!" Marinette exclaimed. "And take down that disaster of a wallpaper!"

"W-wHA—!!" Tikki gaped. "Marinette, when your feelings come back—"

"That's future Marinette's problem! This feels great!" Marinette cheered, having to suppress her excitement just so she could talk. Raising one hand dramatically, she placed the other to her chest, saying to no one in particular, "Oh, what's that? Me, crushing on Adrien? Ew, no way! We're just friends!"

She laughed triumphantly, a bounce in her step that made it seem almost like she were jogging. She crossed the street, reaching for the bakery door's handle and practically singing to herself, "Just friends~ We're just friends~ Me and Ad~ri~en are just good—"

She paused as she opened the door, seeing a familiar mix of blue and black standing at the counter and talking to her parents. At the chime of the bell, all three looked over at her, Luka's smile welcoming and his lips partially coated in white from what seemed to be a powdered donut.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted. "We were just talking about you."

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart," Sabine cooed. "He came all the way here just to see you."

Luka blushed a light shade of pink at the obvious teasing, Tom jumping in to exclaim, "And he really thought he had to pay us for sweets! I told him, you're friends with our daughter, you better not put a single coin on that counter, young man!"

The three had a laugh together; clearly, they'd been getting along before she came in.

Yet, Marinette's smile fell from her face, a mental 'oh' echoing in her mind.

She hadn't even considered Luka when she'd thought of taking away her crush on Adrien, but it made sense; Eagle had said love, and Marinette wasn't foolish enough to think that she hadn't felt anything romantic for Luka. It only made sense that her crush on him would go too.

But it wasn't the same. The relief didn't follow the lack of feeling. With Luka, there'd always be a little leap in her heart, then a wave of calm washing over her, but neither were there and she couldn't help feeling disappointed.

Luka's smile disappeared as he noticed her expression. He approached, concern written all over his features. "Marinette?"

They were friends at that very moment; that was all the feeling she had on the matter, but she wanted what she'd had before. She remembered his confession at the TV station and yearned for the warmth in her cheeks when he stared at her and told her how much he loved her with words that were entirely his own; words that told her that he loved her as herself and filled her with a confidence she seldom had outside of being Ladybug.

Everything clicked. Her crush on Adrien represented stress, anxiety, and losing herself, but her crush on Luka represented peace, happiness, and being herself.

She missed how she felt about Luka. She didn't miss how she felt about Adrien.

That was all the answer she needed.

Almost on cue, her phone beeped again, this time to signal that Liberation was over. Marinette took in a shaky breath as she felt pleasantly familiar emotions rush through her again, and she welcomed them back like she would an old friend.

Luka's blue eyes gained vibrance and allure, his lips being coated in powdered sugar suddenly became incredibly cute, and she could think of him as no less than the most handsome boy in the world.

"...Sorry," she said breathlessly, waving a hand to assure him that she was alright. "Let's just say I went through a lot of emotions today. I'm happy to see you, really!"

Luka's smile came back, filling her with its warmth. "I'm glad," he said in relief. Then, taking a glance at her purse, which was still letting out a muffled, melodic beeping noise, he asked, "Sorry, do you have to be somewhere?"

"Hm? Oh, no, not really." She took out her phone to shut off the timer, then flashed him the screen before closing the app and storing the phone back in her purse. That done, she paused to consider things, then dared a glance back at him. "Hey... can we walk for a while?"

He blinked, mildly surprised, but nodded. "Sure. Did—" He froze, apparently only now realizing that he had powdered sugar on his lips. He swished his tongue around to lick it off, then started over with, "Did you want to talk about something?"

Smiling almost smugly in response, she felt confident enough to offer him her arm, as if he were a damsel she was leading around. She'd never seen his eyes widen quite so much before, but he also didn't protest, happily taking hold of her arm.

Knowing that her parents would just be giving their looks of approval if she glanced back, she stepped out of the bakery and led Luka towards the park.

"So, it took a little longer than I hoped, but... do you remember when you were talking about me getting clarity?"

[mailboxmerchant]

BAD DAY

tldr:naib is mfin horny after a match wit u bae n ur both in love with esch other and equally needy but dont knoe‼️

character: Naib Subedar - mercenary

fandom: identity V

warnings: SEX!!! who could have guessed, also rough/dom naib, swearing, power bottom(lmao)/fem reader, perhaps some masochistic type a stuff but not crazy, less goooooooo

(this is like. just horny. no thoughts. only horny)

As sweat beaded down his forehead, you watched Naib angrily smash the keys of a decoding machine. Something was up, but your teammate just never seemed to let on when something had gone wrong. This match was going fine, you had three more ciphers to go, and everyone was still up and going, only two of your teammates being injured. The hunter was struggling to find any of you, and with each of you teamed up with another to decode, you were all feeling confident in a victory to the survivors. So why was Naib so stressed?

“Hey, Naib?”

 “What, y/n?” 

His tone was sharp, and he snapped back instantly. Someone was clearly cranky. What did you even do?

“Are you...feeling okay? You seem...tense.” You kept your tone neutral, preventing there to be any negativity for him to react to. Before he snapped back, he missed a calibration and alerted the hunter of our position. Still not talking, Naib wrapped a braced arm around your waist and made a dive into a pile of cardboard boxes and other various recyclables. “Shut it, y/n. Hunter’s comin’.” 

You went quiet, but still, his commanding attitude could be done without.  You squirmed in Naib’s grip, at which he grunted, and tightened his hold on you. 

He was started to really make you worry. Naib was usually a calm, collected rescuer, who often would be more reassuring when you were being hunted. You promised you’d figure all this out, just maybe after the match ended. 

The danger passed, quite literally, as Hell Ember jaunted around the trash pile you were hiding in. Naib’s grip got even tighter around you as the hunter loomed closer.  “N-Naib, I can’t-” Naib didn’t seem to give a damn for what you had to say as he slapped a hand over your mouth. “I said, quiet.” His tone was worsening, he was really pissed, huh?

You couldn’t deny yourself though, hearing him sound so stern and having him grab at you so suddenly really threw you off. Your ever-so-secret crush on Naib was keeping you from feeling angry about any of this, in fact, you were almost happy to be so close, even if he was being rude. 

Finally though, you decided that you needed to get back to the matter at hand. Leo was gone, and Naib had to let go of you sometime. You made more of an effort to move, and Naib finally dropped you. Quickly, you jumped back on the machine as the Merc slowly crept from the box pile to return to his typing position. “You know, you could have been caught if it weren’t for me.” He sputtered, quieter than before. “Th-thank you...? God, Naib, what’s your issue today?” You spoke more questioningly than upset, hoping he wouldn’t hear the annoyed undertone in your speech. “It’s nothing you’d understand.” 

Alright, you were giving up for the remainder of decoding time.

Silently, you both finished the machine, and you made a break for the opposite direction of Naib. You figured you could have some alone time to just decode, calm down, and prep for the ending leap where you’d have to play a guessing game for which gate Hell Ember would be waiting for you at. 

Taking a break from running, your steps grew light as you began to pace yourself. “y/n!” As you looked through the fog, you discovered that Edgar was awaiting you with a half done machine. “Edgar! You’re here!” You made a quick greeting to the painter before getting back to business. Small talk wasn’t necessary between the two of you, as the ability to decode calmly was leaving both of your skillsets as your heartbeats became slowly more audible. 

“Come on, y/n, we can finish this, just don’t look away from the calibrations. Stay focused.” Edgar gave you a light tap of the palm to your head as he smacked the sides of the cipher. Your pace increased, as did Edgar’s as you had merely a percentage left. Someone else’s machine popped off, and yours a second later. 

Determined and brave, you made off like a bullet towards the southward exit gate. Sneaking around a broken pillar, you sighed at the sight of a clear gate.  Edgar clearly didn’t share the idea that this was the correct gate, so you could only hope he was hiding and waiting it out to escape. Actually, it seemed like everyone picked the wrong-

*SLAM*

A large hand suddenly slapped down on the decoding pad next to yours, frightening the hell out of you. You prepared to meet your doom when you turned around, but instead met a glaring Naib. “N-Naib! Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” “Where’d you run off to earlier!? We were supposed to be decoding together.” 

His tone from earlier was still present, so....clearly he was still peeved about something you did. “W-well I just thought-” “You thought nothin’, y/n. Just keep decoding.” Your crush wasn’t protecting him any more. Letting out an anxious and angry grunt, you turned back around to the coding pad, slamming the rubbery keys down as you decoded. 

So that’s how it was, then, huh? Fine.

“Naib, you’re a real asshole.” You huffed as you finished the gate, and stormed out, not evening looking back to see if he OR Hell Ember were following. 

Once back in the manor, you rushed back to your room, the embarrassment and guilt from your actions following you quickly after. 

Keeping up the angry façade, you slammed your door behind you before running to flop on your bed. Holding your pillow close to your face, you yelled into it, hoping it was enough to choke the sound. 

“Damn it, Naib...”  You closed your eyes, hoping to wake up with a renewed confidence that way you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of your words.

The sound of three loud, harsh knocks on your door awoke you from your rage nap. 

“OPEN UP! COME ON, I ALREADY KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, Y/N!!”

Naib? Again? Now what...

You begrudgingly sauntered to your door, cracking it open to peek out. Only, Naib pushed right through your defenses, pushing both you and the door back. “Hey!”

Naib was more forceful than before, walking quickly in your direction, and even quicker, cornering you against your bed. You fell onto your behind as Naib gave you a harsh push. “What is all this?! You’ve been acting weird since we started decoding together in that match, and you’re totally out of line! I didn’t even...do anything...” Your words lost their force as you trailed your eyes downward. So that’s why he was all pent up.

An obvious tent in Naib’s pants was what your eyes met with, and even though your cheeks began to blush furiously, you averted your gaze and tried to pretend that you saw nothing. “J-just get out of my room.” You grumbled, no longer able to keep eye contact. 

“I just came to talk, y/n, don’t throw me out.” Naib shifted his body, effectively pinning you to the plush mattress, a hand on either side of your head. You ‘hmphed’, and curtly turned your face away from him. 

“D-don’t act all pissy,” he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, “you’re making it so much worse!” Your eyes still just couldn’t meet his, the heat between the both of you running down between your legs.  Sliding a knee between your thighs, Naib leaned down to speak gruffly into your ear. 

“This is all your fault, you know.” 

“N-Naib! I-” but your words were quickly vanquished by a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips slamming down on your own. A slight graze of his teeth on your bottom lip gave you more excitement than you’d ever felt in any match, and you immediately parted your lips to feel Naib’s wet tongue slick into your mouth. 

You let out a quiet noise, enough for him to notice. After what felt like an eternity (seconds) of making out, Naib pulled away to hold your face in one hand, squishing your cheeks harshly between his fingers. “So...that’s how you feel, huh?” 

You were flustered, but it wasn’t going to take away what your nap earned you. “You were being so awful in that match, but I still...love you, Naib. I didn’t know when or where to tell you, but if you’re gonna do it first, then by all means...” You gestured to Naib with a smirk. 

Hungrily, Naib practically shredded your clothes off, each of his hands attaching themselves to your chest as he kneaded your soft breasts between his fingers. Your quiet pants were driving him absolutely insane. He loved every little exhale that escaped your mouth, settling to nip and suck at your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Telling you how much he needed this, how long he was waiting for this, how he wanted you.

An abrupt end to the sensations in your chest were replaced by a hand sliding underneath each of your thighs. Lifting them up to his shoulders, Naib quickly unfastened his belt, a look of giddiness flashing across his smug face. 

Diving his head down to meet his forehead to yours, Naib snatched your panties off in seconds, aligning himself painfully slow. As he slid his length slowly into your entrance, you dug your fingers into his hair, which was messily tied into his usual ponytail. Hissing at the feeling of you tugging his hair, Naib pushed all the way inside of you, earning a mewl of both pain and pleasure from you. 

"Ah, but wait..."

You winced as Naib suddenly pulled his length out of your entrance, the emptiness being too much to bear. "I'm an asshole, aren't I?"

He was going to make you eat your words.

Almost literally.

"Get up." His harsh tone was back, but it only served to make you feel hotter than before. Giving a shy nod, you got to your knees as Naib stood at the edge of the bed.

Nervously eying him, you gaped at his length, wishing you didn't say those words before so he could drive you insane with pleasure with it.

Stupid y/n...

"Well?" Tired of waiting, Naib took his hand to the back of your head, pushing you closer to his body, your head colliding with his chest. The sudden wholesome warmth was quickly replaced as he pushed you downwards near his manhood.

You began to comply as you opened your mouth, feeling as he gave a slow first grind into your throat. You choked immediately, but didn't pull away. Not yet.

Breathing quickly through your nose, you began to suck aggressively with no warning, pulling a gasp from the previously snarky Merc.

"Ga-hah! y-y/n...." Pulling off with a 'pop', you went back down to give small kitten licks to the tip of his cock, earning little shifts of position and pants from Naib.

"Stop....stop teasin' me...." was all he could huff out. You slid the entirety of his length in and out for a quick throat fuck a few times, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. In your own way, you were making him pay for being so snide earlier.  “Screw you, y/n. Have it your way.”

Your torture paid off! 

Naib firmly pushed you back down on your stomach, grasping your hips and pulling you close to his own hips. Letting out a satisfied hum, you felt as Naib quickly align himself with your entrance once more.

Giving you no time to readjust again, he fully sheathed himself inside of you, your insides stretching once again to fit him inside. “Hah....shit, Naib.....” You cursed, grasping tightly onto Naib as he pushed you both down, beginning to thrust wildly in and out of you. Every pounding slammed harder against the entrance of your womb, the suction of your warm, wet insides also providing intense pleasure for Naib. 

“Oh fuck, y/n, you’re...so tight...” Naib panted loudly into your ear. Neither of you were even remotely worried about the other manor residents hearing either of your moans racketing off the walls of the creaky residence.

“G-god...I c-can’t...hold on...” You whimpered pathetically as your dug your fingers into Naib’s scalp a second time. As your begging for more became louder, you felt the knot in your stomach grow larger, tighter, and more overwhelming than you’d ever felt before. You could feel Naib’s hard and precise thrusts growing sloppy, and you knew you were both getting close to climax.

  “y/n....y/n....I’m gonna...” Before his sentence could even be finished, Naib’s thick cock twitched harshly inside you as you felt his hot seed pour into you. The spreading warmth was enough to send you over the edge, your juice quickly spilling out to mix with his own. 

Slowly pulling out, your precious mercenary promptly collapsed on top of you, his head coincidentally landing in between your tits. You sighed hazily, riding off your previous high as you wrapped your arms around his head, and slowly letting your eyes close in exhaustion.

a/n: so sorry if theres any typos/grammar-spellin mistakes. i rushed the end bc i had this cued for FOREVER, enjoy babes <3 

[alrightberries]

“may i?”

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff & angst.  ❈ word count: 8k

❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.

alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.

❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.

a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands. 

Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.

There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.

He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.

But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.

The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.

He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.

And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.

He was hideous.

Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it. 

The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.

He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless. 

His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.

Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.

All because of that damned explosion.

All because of that damned bearded bastard.

Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort. 

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice. 

“Come in.”

The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand. 

The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.

“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”

Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.

“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”

He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.

“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.

“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”

“No.”

“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”

“No.”

He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.

“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”

“...yes.”

A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”

Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.

“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”

His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”

It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”

You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.

“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.

He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.

“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.

Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.

Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.

Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.

“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”

“Y-yeah.”

FUCK.

What the fuck.

Did he just fucking stutter?

Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.

He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.

Fuck. So you did notice.

Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—

“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”

Oh, right.

He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses. 

“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”

Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”

You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.

“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.

“An hour at most.”

“Are you lying again?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations. 

“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”

Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”

You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.

“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”

As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.

He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.

Yeah, he definitely was not lying.

“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”

He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.

“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”

“I’m not feeling any—“

“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”

Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.

“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.

Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.

Nothing goes past your observant eyes.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.

“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.

“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”

You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.

“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”

“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”

“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”

Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.

“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”

Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.

“Your brew’s better.” 

“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”

Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.

The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.

Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.

“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.

“Yeah.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.

“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.

“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”

You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”

He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.

“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.

“Are you relaxed?”

Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.

“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.

“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”

Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.

“Your tea’s not bad today.”

“Really?! You think it’s good?”

“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”

“Come in.”

The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.

“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.

“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.

He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.

His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.

“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.

“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.

“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”

Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?

“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in. 

Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.

Was this what insecurity felt like?

He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.

He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.

“I don’t want your shitty tea.”

Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.

“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”

Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.

“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”

Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”

“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”

Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.

“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”

Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”

The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.

“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.

“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.

“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”

Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?

“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.

“They didn’t say.”

Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.

Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.

“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”

Hange shrugs.

“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”

Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.

But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.

“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”

Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.

“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”

“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“

His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.

“I will not repeat my order. Go.”

The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.

That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.

Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.

That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.

The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”

Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.

“Come in.”

The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.

“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.

“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”

You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”

“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”

You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”

You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”

“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.

I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.

“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”

Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?

Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.

Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.

“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”

Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“

“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”

The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.

“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.

He eyes you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.

He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.

“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”

You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.

“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”

Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)

He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”

To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred  you to continue on.

“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”

Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.

His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.

Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.

Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.

You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?

Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.

Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.

And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for. 

Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.

Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.

Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.

“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed. 

He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.

Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.

Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity. 

From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head. 

“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”

“Levi.” 

“What?”

“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”

You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.

“Levi, what are you—“

“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”

You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.

“I’m just Levi.”

A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes. 

Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.

Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.

“May I?” 

Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.

“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”

“Then what am I to you?”

Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.

...would you really tell him?

You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”

Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more. 

“Are you lying?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”

“I can’t.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.

“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”

He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—

“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”

You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.

But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what the future holds.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”

He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”

“Then what do you want?” 

“You.” 

Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”

You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.

“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”

“Are you lying?” 

“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.” 

And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant. 

In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.

His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.

He pauses.

“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.

“You may.”

And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.

There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.

Home. 

The feeling of home.

Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.

“Name and business.”

“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”

“Come in.”

As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.

“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.

“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.

“Good.”

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[miekasa]

any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁

Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.

He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.

That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.

He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.

Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.

He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.

He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.

Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.

Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.

The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.

Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.

Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.

(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).

On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.

He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.

When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”

On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.

Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.

Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.

You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.

He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.

If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.

He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.

He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).

He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.

Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.

Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.

He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.

You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.

Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.

He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.

On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.

He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.

He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.

Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.

He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.

It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.

[spideybb]

insecure

hey! happy saturday! i’ve been in a weird place mentally & i do l*ve seth rollins so uh...i wrote this. hope someone out there enjoys this small lil blurb <3

pairing: seth rollins x gender neutral!reader

summary: you’re feeling insecure and seth gives you reassurance

warnings: overthinking, bad writing, and fluff <3

word count: 546 words

masterlist

today was not your day. your brain was a jumbled mess and you couldn’t stop yourself from overthinking. you had been missing your boyfriend of one year, seth rollins, for weeks now since he had been on the road. he was coming home today and you knew you should be happy and excited to see him again, but, instead, you were overthinking and fearful that his feelings had changed for you over the few weeks he had been gone.

you knew it was stupid. seth loved you and he told you multiple times a day. but sometimes you just couldn’t control your thoughts and your insecurities got the better of you.

it was about five-thirty when you got back after work. you immediately changed out of your work clothes and crawled into bed. you wanted to sleep the rest of the day away.

you were almost asleep when you heard the front door slam shut. “honey, i’m home!” seth called out in a sing-song voice. your lips twitched up into a smile. you threw the duvet off of you and stretched out your limbs. right when you were about to get out of bed, the door to the bedroom creaked open.

“hey,” seth said, his smile faltering when he saw you in bed with all the lights turned off. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you answered, giving him an unconvincing smile as you stood up and made your way over to him. you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. he wrapped his arounds you and you melted into his touch. you pulled back and leaned up, attaching your lips to his. “i missed you.”

“i missed you too, love,” seth said, smiling as he rested his forehead against your’s. “are you sure you’re okay?”

you weakly nodded your head. “i’m fine, okay?”

“you aren’t, i know you. what’s on your mind?” seth asked, taking your hands in his and leading you over to the bed. you both took a seat on the edge and seth rested a hand on your thigh.

you chewed on your bottom lip as you thought about whether or not you should voice your insecurities. you knew hiding it from him would only make things worse. “i just missed you a lot. and i just got really insecure the more you were gone i guess. my brain just keeps telling me you’re going to lose feelings for me on the road or find someone better.”

“oh baby,” seth said with a frown as he cupped your face in his hands gently. “that’ll never happen, okay? i love you more than anything. i’m always going to be yours okay?”

you nodded your head. seth’s frown turned into a smile as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. you melted into the kiss, all of your insecurities and worries disappearing. he pulled away a few seconds later, giving you a quick peck on your nose. “i’ll love you regardless of your brain tells you, okay?”

“okay,” you replied. “i love you so much.”

“i love you more,” seth said. “now, how about we order pizza and have a movie night? i’ve missed having you in my arms.”

you giggled and nodded your head, glad to have your boyfriend back with you.

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