#peace love and even more plants au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 22 days ago

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Sprouting Love (m) | knj

As snowflakes dance in the crisp winter air, you and Namjoon find yourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company. The holiday season brings the aroma of freshly baked cookies, the magic of twinkling lights strung through the house, and laughter echoing in your greenhouse where you tend to flourishing plants, lovingly nurtured together. Amid the glow of Christmas cheer and shared moments filled with wonder, perhaps this season will sprinkle a touch of courage and clarity to finally define the blossoming connection between you. Will the magic of Christmas help turn what’s unspoken into something beautifully real?

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: non-idol!au, gardening!au, neighbors!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: (enemies to lovers) / neighbors to lovers / friends with benefits to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy (+ a little angst) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 13.7k → Warnings + triggers: unprotected sex (please be safe), degrading name calling, hair pulling, sexual tension, oral (male receiving), rough but also tender, a lot of kissing, a lot of tension, dirty talk, stupid innuendos, multiple orgasms, praise kink, begging, exhibitionism (unintentionally), impregnation kink, begging, big dick Joonie 👀 + glasses and turtlenecks. → Author’s note: ahhhh. I know a lot of you love this couple (and I do too!). So here’s another part to it, that’s almost as long as the whole mini series 😂 I hope you like it and happy holidays! 🎄 → Read the spoiler? [text messages] → Read on AO3? [link]

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You make the short walk to Namjoon’s house, each step tingling with the thrill of anticipation that never quite fades, no matter how many times you’ve walked to his house. The winter air whispers secrets against your skin, and when you reach his door, your knuckles barely touch the wood before it swings open as if he had been waiting on the other side, sensing your arrival like some instinctual force.

“Hi, Joonie—” you start, but your words catch in your throat, swept away by the vision standing before you. Namjoon leans casually in the doorway, barefoot on the cool floor, his loose gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. A black wooly turtleneck, soft and perfectly snug, accentuates his lean big frame, the sleeves gathered around his strong forearms. He shifts slightly, and you spot caramel-brown suede patches on the elbows, details that shouldn’t be alluring but are, somehow, because they are his.

Dear god, send help, you think, as you try to steady the wild flutter in your chest. How does a man make something so simple look so impossibly captivating? His hair is still that soft silver shade, a gentle stormcloud you’ve come to love, its unruly strands tempting you to reach out and run your fingers through them. Over the past few months, he has become more than just a fleeting presence in your life, even if you both refuse to define what you are to each other. You still remember the moment that changed everything—when you gathered the courage to apologize for your reckless behavior, and he, with the ease of someone who understood you more than he should, forgave you. That night at his housewarming party had led to your lips on his, your inhibitions crumbling, and his laughter echoing in your ears long after you both lost yourselves in each other’s warmth.

Namjoon has always had this uncanny ability to stir chaos within you, then anchor you with just a look or a word. No one has ever made you feel this way—unpredictable yet somehow perfectly at peace, like a storm that finally finds its calm. Yet, despite the countless nights tangled in his sheets and countless moments where his presence felt like home, neither of you has dared to put a name to what you share. It’s undefined, beautifully so, even if it gnaws at the corners of your heart sometimes. But for now, this is enough. It has to be.

His voice pulls you back to the present, warm and teasing, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Hi, Y/N. Do you need help with something? Or,” he adds, a smirk tugging at his lips, “do you have an itch that needs scratching?” His eyebrows lift, suggestive and playful.

Your cheeks warm at his flirtation, but you recover quickly, slipping into the playful defiance that has always been your defense. “Well,” you say with a smirk and a giggle, leaning in just a touch, “I am ovulating.” The words hang between you, bold and taunting.

Namjoon’s mouth falls open, and he stares at you, wide-eyed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in that adorably nervous way of his. “You know I’m not ready for kids, and we’re not even… together,” he stammers, his voice faltering. His statement is like a tiny fissure in the moment, and it stings, the reminder of what you are—or aren’t—but you cover the hurt with a laugh.

“Relax,” you reply, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know I’m on birth control, and it was just a joke.”

You step closer, so close now that his breath mingles with yours, warm and sweet, the space between you charged and electric. “But,” you whisper, your voice low and wicked, “we could roleplay. I know how much the idea of impregnation turns you on, Joonie.” Your smile is devilish, delighting in the way his cheeks flush a deep crimson, the way you’ve come to know his secrets and use them to unravel him.

“It does not,” he protests, crossing his arms with a mock pout, the hint of a stammer betraying his feigned offense. You can’t help but smile at the way his brows knit together, his sulky act so endearing that it almost pulls a real laugh from your lips.

“Relax, that’s not why I dropped by,” you tease, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders as your hand reaches out to rest against his chest. Beneath your fingers, you feel the familiar contradiction of his body: the softness of his black wooly turtleneck giving way to the solid, unyielding muscle beneath. God, you think, so soft, yet so perfectly taut, those sculpted pecs.

“It isn’t?” he questions, his eyes narrowing with a glint of something unsaid, a spark of curiosity mingled with heat. But this time, you’ve got more to offer than just teasing banter.

“No,” you say with a warm smile, the sexual tension melting away and leaving something more tender in its place. “I actually wanted to see if you’d come over and help me bake cookies for the local orphanage.” Your voice softens, sincerity peeking through, and a touch of vulnerability brightens your eyes.

You watch how his expression shifts, his features melting from playful disbelief into something far more gentle. First, his eyes narrow knowingly, but then his entire face softens, the warmth in his gaze like sunlight breaking through a heavy cloud. “Yeah, sure,” he says, his voice steady, sincere. “I’d love to.”

A rush of relief blooms in your chest, and you exhale with a beaming smile. “Thank you! Usually, Kookie helps me, but he’s busy today,” you add, lips pursing into an exaggerated pout. “It’s kind of a tradition for me to make cookies and bring them to the orphanage every Christmas,” you explain, your smile growing at the thought.

“Nice,” he replies, his eyes lighting up with a touch of amusement as he gestures at the festive Christmas apron tied snugly around your waist. “Are you going to make them now?”

You nod, your breath leaving in a small cloud in the cold air. “Yeah.”

“I can help now,” he offers, and with that, he steps back into his house, slipping on some cozy slippers before joining you. The snow crunches underfoot as you both walk the short, chilly distance to your house, where warmth and holiday spirit await. The driveways have been cleared, the path to your front door inviting, and when Namjoon closes the door behind him, the cold is immediately banished.

Inside, your kitchen looks like a Christmas explosion. Mixing bowls of various sizes clutter the counter, flour dusted liberally across every surface, with rogue sprinkles even trailing onto the floor. Bars of chocolate lie waiting to be chopped, and the oven hums contentedly, filling the space with soothing warmth. The chaos makes it clear: you’ve already begun the festivities.

“Wow,” Namjoon murmurs, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. “I can see why you needed help.” His voice is a mix of awe and playful judgment, and you can’t help but let out a small, sheepish laugh.

You scratch your head, an embarrassed giggle escaping. “Yeah, I always bite off more than I can chew,” you admit, your laughter brightening the room even more. You step toward the counter, already thinking of ways to channel Namjoon’s energy into something useful. “Do you want to chop the chocolate?” you offer.

He freezes, his eyes widening with mock terror, and his deep laugh rumbles through the kitchen. “I better not,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “You know how clumsy I am.” You think back to his infamous accidents: the greenhouse he demolished, the garden beds he obliterated—all unfortunate mishaps that had somehow led to these shared moments, bringing you closer.

“True,” you chuckle, the memory making you squeeze his bicep as you pass behind him. The muscle beneath your touch is solid, reassuring. “Okay, then,” you say, gently guiding him toward the mixing bowls. “If you mix the batter, I’ll handle the chocolate,” you suggest, and he nods, his laughter still dancing in the air between you.

You find your rhythm with Namjoon: a steady, unspoken dance of movements. He mixes the batter with those powerful biceps of his, muscles flexing beneath his sweater as he works the spoon through the thick dough. You try not to stare, but god, how can you not? The sight is distracting, dangerously so, and you have to remind yourself to keep your focus on chopping chocolate, the sharp knife clinking rhythmically against the cutting board. Your hands work swiftly, but your gaze can’t help but drift, lingering over the way his arms tense and move. Damn, you think, heat blooming in your cheeks. You shouldn’t be ogling him like this… but resisting feels impossible.

The kitchen grows warm and sweet, scented with chocolate and flour, the air heavy with anticipation. Namjoon finishes mixing the dough, and together you shape it into perfect, palm-sized portions, setting them onto baking trays. He’s meticulous, and you can’t help but feel a small swell of pride as you watch him carefully pat each ball of dough into place. You slide the first tray into the oven, only one at a time—your old, temperamental oven too unpredictable for more. Patience will have to pay off if it means the cookies will be perfectly golden.

The two of you stand side by side, the silence suddenly thick, almost suffocating. The tension wraps around you like a taut string, ready to snap at the smallest movement. To break it, you grab a couple of glasses, filling them with cold water, hoping the simple action might soothe whatever current crackles between you. But even as you drink, neither of you speaks, the electricity palpable.

Before you can find something to say, a new presence cuts through the tension as Jungkook stumbles into the kitchen, descending from the staircase with the heavy-lidded look of someone freshly woken. His hair is a tousled, endearing mess, dark strands sticking out at odd angles as he drags a hand through them, yawning wide. “Hey, what are you guys doing?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, still rubbing the remnants of his dreams from his eyes.

“Baking cookies,” you reply, smiling at the sight of him, though you can’t help but wonder why he’s only just now waking up when it’s the middle of the day. He looks entirely too soft and adorable, making you feel a small pang of fondness.

Jungkook’s nose twitches, catching the scent of baking chocolate. “Smells good,” he says, eyes lighting up as he takes a few sleepy steps closer to the kitchen counter where you and Namjoon stand—close, but not touching. “Can I have some in my room?” he asks, hopeful, his voice still gravelly with sleep. He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, a pout forming on his lips.

“No,” you say firmly, fixing him with a stern look. “These are for the orphanage.”

“Just one?” he tries again, his expression a perfect picture of adorable desperation. But you hold your ground, shaking your head.

“No,” you repeat, more resolutely this time. Yet Jungkook, mischievous as ever, slides over to the bowls of dough, his eyes gleaming with determination. He reaches out, fingers poised to swipe a handful of unbaked cookie dough.

Before he can steal his prize, Namjoon’s reflexes kick in. With a swift, almost effortless movement, he intercepts Jungkook’s hand, swatting it away before it can come anywhere near contaminating your carefully prepared batter. You’re grateful for Namjoon’s intervention, and for a moment, the amusement makes the tension between you dissolve just a little.

Jungkook rubs his hand, feigning injury with a dramatic pout, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Namjoon. Something flashes in his gaze—curiosity, awareness—an unspoken question lingering in the air as he watches the two of you. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he’s caught on to something unsaid, something charged. The look he gives you is knowing, but he doesn’t say a word.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Jungkook asks, his lips curling into a smirk that suggests mischief brewing beneath his sleepy demeanor. His eyes glint with a teasing challenge, the kind only someone who knows how to poke at your soft spots can deliver.

You tilt your head, brows knitting together, confusion settling over you like a mist. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice curious but cautious, already sensing that whatever he’s about to say will unsettle the fragile balance you’ve created here.

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, the troublemaker’s spark lighting up his gaze. He takes his time, savoring the pause, drawing it out like a slow intake of breath before the storm. “I mean,” he drawls, letting the anticipation build before delivering his question, “are you two official now, or what?” His voice cuts through the air, as sharp and casual as a knife slipped between armor.

The question pierces through you, freezing you for a heartbeat. You scramble for words, but they don’t come. Your chest tightens, because the truth is you don’t know. You’re not official with Namjoon, and the ambiguity gnaws at you in quiet moments, whispering doubts you try so hard to ignore. All you’ve shared is laughter, nights tangled together, and moments that feel like home—but nothing labeled, nothing secure.

Namjoon clears his throat, breaking the tension. “We’re just having a good time,” he says, his voice even, calm, as if those words don’t twist at something vulnerable inside you. “Why should we need to label things?” His question hangs in the air, breezy yet barbed, and it stings more than you care to admit.

Your heart gives a small, involuntary ache, but you swallow it down, as you’ve done so many times before. You’d love nothing more than to put a name to what this is, to solidify the feelings that swim in the spaces between you. But Namjoon’s words remind you where you stand, and you try to tuck those fragile hopes away, out of sight.

Instead, you plaster on a smirk, masking the sting, and turn to Jungkook. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on Jimin instead of meddling in our business, huh?” you tease, your voice light but with an edge of deflection.

Jungkook flinches, his face draining of color for a moment before flushing with a bright, mortified blush. He looks at you like you’ve unearthed a well-guarded secret, and his eyes widen in a way that makes you feel a small triumph.

“Yeah, we know,” you muse, the corners of your mouth lifting with satisfaction. Before the tension can thicken further, the oven timer beeps, and Namjoon turns to carefully pull the tray of cookies from the heat, the warm aroma of melted chocolate spilling into the air. He sets the tray aside to let the cookies cool, and you slide a new batch into the oven, trying to ground yourself in the familiar rhythm.

You grab a warm cookie and wrap it in a paper towel, turning back to Jungkook, who’s still blushing furiously. “Just because I like Jimin,” you quip, “I’ll give you a cookie for him—none for you.” You press the cookie into his hand, a grin curling at your lips. “Make sure to say hi from us. We know he’s up there in your bedroom.”

Jungkook’s blush deepens, his face blooming beet-red as he takes the cookie with reluctant, embarrassed hands. He mumbles something incoherent, then spins on his heel, hurrying back toward the stairs, too flustered to form a coherent protest. You watch him go, his retreat filling the room with a burst of humor that almost—but not quite—eases the ache still lingering in your heart.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in a flurry of flour and laughter, baking batch after batch of cookies. You try to push thoughts of your undefined relationship with Namjoon into the recesses of your mind, focusing instead on the gentle rhythm of your work. The cookies cool on wire racks, their chocolate-sweet aroma filling the kitchen and settling over you like a comforting blanket. Carefully, you pack them into glass jars adorned with festive ribbons, each one sparkling with the warm, nostalgic spirit of Christmas.

“Do you want to come with me to the orphanage to deliver the cookies?” you ask, your voice soft yet hopeful. Namjoon glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He agrees, and together you load the jars into your car. The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers, weaving itself through the crisp, frosty air as you drive down snow-dusted roads. The landscape is a winter wonderland with treetops crowned with snow, branches shimmering with icy lace, and the streets lined with drifts that sparkle under the pale afternoon light.

When you arrive at the orphanage, the children’s laughter and wide-eyed smiles fill you with a deep, quiet joy. Their faces light up as they receive the cookies, little hands clutching the sweet gifts, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell. Namjoon stands beside you, watching you interact with the kids. There’s something tender in his gaze, something he doesn’t put into words, but it wraps around you all the same.

On the drive back, the silence between you feels serene, softened by the shared experience. Snowflakes begin to drift lazily from the sky, catching in the beams of the headlights. Namjoon turns to you, his voice curious yet gentle. “So you do this every Christmas?” he asks, breaking the comfortable quiet.

You smile, your hands steady on the wheel as you flick the blinker to signal a turn. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice tinged with the sweet ache of memory. “Always. It’s something my mom used to do. When she passed, I wanted to carry on her tradition, to keep her spirit alive in this small way.” The words come out soft, but they hold the weight of years, love, and loss.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Namjoon says, his tone low and sincere. You glance over at him, offering a gentle smile, the kind that carries acceptance and peace. “It’s okay,” you say, your voice a quiet reassurance. “It happened a long time ago.”

He exhales, the breath almost visible in the chill of the car, and he clears his throat, nervous but determined. “Do you want to help me decorate my place?” he asks, his words a gentle offering. “And I’ll help get yours ready for Christmas too.”

A genuine smile breaks across your face, a warmth sparking in your chest. “Yeah, that sounds perfect,” you reply. “I’ll need to pick up some new ornaments, though. I know just the place we can go.” The idea of shopping for holiday decorations together, of filling both your spaces with light and laughter, feels like a small but significant promise.

Namjoon’s hand drifts down to rest on your thigh, a quiet gesture of connection that makes your heart flutter. His touch stays there for the rest of the ride, grounding you, warming you, as snowflakes twirl and dance outside the windows.

“Hi, babe,” Namjoon says, and just with that one simple word, he manages to unravel you. The casual endearment sends a shiver of longing through your heart, a tiny thrill that sparks questions you never quite manage to silence—the ones about what you really mean to each other. Your heart flutters like the wings of a restless bird, and even though a part of you wishes he didn’t have this power over you, there’s no denying it. Deep down, you love that he does. You crave the comfort and warmth he brings, even if you sometimes wish it came with the certainty of a label.

“Hi, Joonie,” you reply, your voice soft but bright, as if it alone can welcome him out of the winter cold. A rush of freezing air follows him inside, nipping at your cheeks, and you gesture hurriedly for him to come in and shut the chill away.

He steps across the threshold, the scent of fresh snow clinging to his coat, and a smile unfurls on his lips, dimples deepening. “I was wondering if you’d show me your greenhouse again,” he says, and there’s a childlike wonder in his eyes, a curiosity that never fails to enchant you. “I’m curious to see what plants you have out there braving the winter. And maybe we could start some seeds for next season?”

His voice is filled with genuine interest, and the way he looks at you—wide-eyed and eager—melts something inside your chest. You can’t help but smile back. Those damn dimples of his, so disarming, so inexplicably endearing. “Oh, definitely,” you say, your eyes lighting up. “I’ve been meaning to sow some new seeds, actually. Peas, chilies, Asian greens—they thrive even in this frozen weather.”

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere, a gentle offering that wraps around you like a warm scarf. The idea of working side by side with him, hands deep in the soil, fills you with quiet joy.

“Do you have time now?” he asks, his words tender, like he’s afraid of shattering the moment.

“Yeah,” you respond, feeling a surge of anticipation as you reach for something warm to wear. You pull on an extra-thick pair of wool socks, a cozy sweater, and then layer yourself in a heavy parka and boots. Namjoon is already dressed for the bitter cold, bundled up but still managing to look effortlessly handsome. Even though you’ll be spending time in the greenhouse, the air there is only a degree or two warmer than outside—it’s a space that holds more promise than heat during the winter.

Together, you make your way outside, your footsteps crunching in the snow. You lead the way, the cold biting at your cheeks, but the warmth of his presence close behind keeps you from feeling the chill too deeply. Sliding the glass door of the greenhouse open, you step inside and usher him in, closing the door behind you. The stillness of the space wraps around you both, the smell of damp earth mingling with the crisp scent of winter.

“Have you thought about getting a greenhouse of your own?” you ask, a playful lilt in your voice. It’s a conversation you’ve shared before, a running joke ever since he accidentally wrecked yours with that wild ball throw months ago. You watch his face for a reaction, and he laughs, a deep, rich sound that seems to warm the chilly air around you.

“Yeah, I think I’d like to get one for the summer season,” Namjoon muses, his voice thoughtful, warm as a patch of sunlight breaking through clouds. “But I’m still not sure. That’s part of why I’m so curious about what you’ve managed to grow in the dead of winter. If I’m going to invest in one, I want to make the most of it, you know?” He pauses, a playful grin curving his lips as he glances at you. “But honestly, maybe I should just keep helping you with yours. It’s more fun together, don’t you think?”

He tucks his hands into his jeans pockets, wandering deeper into the greenhouse, his gaze sweeping over the lush, vibrant greens defying the frost outside. Even in the shelter of the greenhouse, the air is tinged with the crispness of winter, but Namjoon’s presence feels like a hearth fire—steady, comforting, and a little too warm when you think of how easily he fits into these shared moments.

“I understand,” you say, your voice as tender as the soft leaves unfurling in your garden beds. “And you’re always welcome in my greenhouse, you know that.” You follow close behind him, pointing out the resilient Asian salads thriving in their earthy homes: delicate mibuna, sturdy bok choy, crisp cabbage, and even the spicy thrill of wasabi salad. There’s purple kale, vibrant and defiant against the cold, and winter carrots, their secrets buried until it’s time to harvest.

Namjoon’s eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief. “Oh, so you did manage to grow something after I, uh, accidentally destroyed your greenhouse?” He gestures toward the patch of winter carrots, a sheepish look stealing across his face.

You chuckle, the memory of his well-meaning chaos warming you. “Yeah, I did,” you reply, a smile dancing on your lips. “You can even try one if you want.”

With that, Namjoon kneels gracefully by the garden bed. Even through the bulky layers of his coat, the contours of his body are undeniable, and your traitorous mind takes note of the way his dark jeans hug him in all the right places. He reaches for a carrot, pulling at the green stem with gentle strength until a large, brilliantly orange carrot emerges from the soil. As he brushes the dirt away, he raises it to his lips, and there’s something distractingly captivating about the way he bites into it. The crisp snap of the carrot echoes in the stillness, a sound that somehow makes your breath hitch.

“It’s good,” he says, his voice reverent, like he’s savoring more than just a vegetable. “Crisp and sweet.” His words are innocent enough, but heat blooms on your cheeks as your mind wanders to other things that are, admittedly, very sweet.

“So, what are we going to sow?” he asks, watching as you gather trays and soil. There’s an excitement in his gaze, an eagerness that makes your own heart quicken.

“Like I said earlier,” you reply, grinning as you lay out the seedling trays in a neat row on the workbench. “Peas first. They’re hardy, even in this cold, and planting them early means we’ll have a head start on the harvest. We can sow extra so you’ll have some to take home and plant in your garden. They’re amazing because they climb and flourish wherever they’re given even a little support.”

“And then, chilies,” you continue, your eyes sparkling. “We’ll start them here, but they’ll need to come inside to sprout, where it’s warmer. It’s always good to start them early so they can be transferred outside when spring rolls in. Later in the new year, we can put them in the greenhouse or straight into the garden beds.” You take a breath and continue, “And of course, more greens and salads. They’re slower to sprout in this cold, but they’ll make it, strong and resilient, like little winter warriors.”

Namjoon listens intently, his gaze never leaving you. There’s a peacefulness in the moment, as if the greenhouse holds its breath, cocooning you both in a world of shared ambitions and quiet dreams.

You suddenly realize you’ve forgotten the seeds. “Ah, I left the seeds inside,” you say, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Wait here while I grab them.” Namjoon nods, his eyes following you as you hurry back to the house, the cold nipping at your heels, urgency making you quick on your feet.

Inside, you snatch up the old tin where you keep your seeds—its surface worn and familiar, full of whispered promises of new life waiting to burst forth from the soil. When you return to the greenhouse, you pause for a moment, caught by the sight of Namjoon. He’s crouched low, his focus completely absorbed by a small bok choy plant, tracing the way its tender, jade-hued leaves meld into deep shadows where the veins run dark. There’s a quiet reverence in his expression, as though he’s marveling at the tiny miracle of survival in the cold.

“We can get started,” you say, a soft smile warming your face. Namjoon rises, his dimples peeking out as he grins back, and joins you in front of the workbench. You pour soil into a wide basin, mixing in perlite and vermiculite, the earthy aroma mingling with the crisp air. Your hands work with practiced grace, kneading the soil to loosen its texture, giving it life and breath.

“I’ve never added perlite or vermiculite to soil before,” Namjoon admits, wonder flickering in his voice as he watches the small white and gold specks sift through your fingers. You giggle, a sound as light and unburdened as petals drifting on a breeze. Most people don’t bother, but you’ve always been particular about these things.

“Try it sometime,” you encourage. “It makes for the best potting mix—less dense, better drainage, and the roots love it. And always use seed-starting soil. It has less fertilizer, so it’s gentler on seedlings.” Your hands press through the soil, feeling every grain and clump, savoring the dirt wedging beneath your nails. You’ve never cared for gloves; the raw, honest texture of the earth grounds you, as if reminding you that growth is always a little messy.

Namjoon tilts his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “I thought fertilizer was good?” he asks, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if his passion for plants runs as deep as he claims. But then again, you know that not everyone shares your level of obsession.

“It is—once the plant has grown a bit,” you explain, meeting his gaze with a patient smile. “Too much, too soon, and it can harm the seedling. Gentle care first, then nourishment.” You gesture for him to step closer, feeling the way the greenhouse seems to shrink around you, warm and cocooned.

He reaches for a packet of seeds—peas, full of promise—and you prepare the seedling tray, filling each cell with your custom soil mix. Using your dibber, you create neat holes for planting. Namjoon leans closer, and together you work in quiet tandem, dropping each tiny seed into its place, the rhythm of it comforting, like a shared heartbeat.

When you finish the tray, you dust your dirt-stained hands together. “Great. Now onto the next seeds,” you declare, and Namjoon dives in to help. His hands move alongside yours, scooping soil, pressing it down gently, but not too tight, and it feels strangely intimate, this act of creating life together.

Namjoon watches you, a hint of mischief curling at the edges of his thoughts. You’re skilled at this, at working with your hands—deliberate, sure, and endlessly fascinating. His mind drifts, unbidden, to the times your hands have moved over him, how your touch has lit up his world in ways that make him blush now, here among tender greens and the scent of new soil. Damn it, he chides himself, this isn’t the time to be thinking such thoughts.

But it’s hard not to, with the memory of your touch and the taste of your laughter tangled together in his mind, like vines climbing toward the light.

He flashes a mischievous grin. “You know, I love getting a little dirty with you in the garden,” he teases, his voice playful and warm as he gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder. You laugh, the sound bright and ringing through the greenhouse, and a rosy blush colors your cheeks as the double meaning sinks in. It’s a shared, private joke, laced with an intimacy that makes your heart skip.

Together, you keep working, your hands growing numb from the cold, yet neither of you want to stop. The chill is creeping into your bones, but the way you work side by side, sowing seeds and exchanging glances, brings a certain kind of warmth all on its own. When the final seed is nestled in the soil and the last tray prepared, you finally shiver. “We should take the chili seedlings inside,” you say, your breath visible in the icy air. “And… do you want to come in for a bit? I could bake a cake and make some hot cocoa.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up, and he smiles wide, the kind that shows his dimples. “I couldn’t say no to that,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his voice. He grabs the glass door, holding it open for you as you step out, and he follows, closing it behind with a satisfying click.

Inside the house, warmth greets you like an embrace. You shed your heavy parka and boots, and Namjoon mirrors your actions, his movements unhurried, as if savoring this transition from the cold to the cozy. You carry the seedling tray over to the kitchen window, where a grow light waits to nurture the tiny plants. The sun has set, painting the world outside in hues of blue and shadow, but the light inside feels like hope.

Gathering ingredients, you set to work making hot cocoa, the rich scent of chocolate already beginning to fill the air. Namjoon pulls a stool from the dining area and drags it closer, settling down to watch you. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze is intent, as though he’s entranced by the rhythm of your hands as they move. Your fingers skim over a packet of flour, measure brown sugar with precision, and whisk together the batter for a carrot cake with the greenhouse carrots you stored in the fridge.

Namjoon is captivated. He always is during moments like this—when you’re fully in your element, focused and graceful, your movements as fluid and sure as a melody. His eyes trace your hands, trailing from the way your fingers curl around a spoon to how you tilt your head slightly, concentrating. There’s something magnetic about it, the way you pour yourself into the simplest tasks, as if even the act of baking holds an unspoken promise of care.

But as he watches, the heat in his gaze deepens, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. His body betrays him, a familiar stirring between his thighs. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore—how easily you have this effect on him, even when you’re not trying. But he can’t help it, can’t control how the sight of your hands moving so deftly, so sensuously over everyday things, ignites thoughts he knows he shouldn’t entertain right now.

He shifts subtly on the stool, grateful for the kitchen counter that hides the evidence of his arousal, while you remain blissfully unaware, pouring the batter into a baking mold with a contented hum. Namjoon bites his lip and takes a steadying breath, trying to refocus on the warmth of this moment, even as temptation tugs at the edges of his mind.

When you slide the cake batter into the oven, the warm scent of spices already beginning to fill the air, you turn your attention back to Namjoon. Something in his expression seems off—or perhaps, not quite off, but different. There’s a tension in the way he sits, his body radiating heat, his eyes darkened with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

Curious, you move past the kitchen counter, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. As soon as you round the corner and see him clearly, you stop in your tracks, your breath catching in a startled, husky “oh.” Your voice wavers, that simple exclamation filled with an undeniable hunger.

Namjoon lets out a low, teasing chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Realizing there’s no use in hiding his desire, he shifts, spreading his legs wider in the chair. The movement makes the strain in his jeans even more obvious, the hard outline pressing against the denim, leaving nothing to the imagination. Heat rushes through your veins, your gaze flickering between his smoldering brown eyes and the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

“You’re so good with your hands, babe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a sultry, resonant purr that drips with need. “Why don’t you put them to good use and help me with this problem?” His words are thick with desire, and he gestures toward the bulge, which seems to pulse with a life of its own, the denim stretched taut and unforgiving. You can’t help but wonder if the fabric is torturously tight, if he’s even comfortable in those form-fitting jeans.

You step closer, your movements slow, languid, like a feline circling her prey. Your eyes glitter with a mix of playful defiance and unrestrained want. A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you draw nearer, deliberately dragging out each moment to make him squirm. “Hmm,” you hum, batting your lashes provocatively, savoring the power in your hands. You trail your fingers lightly across his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle through his gray turtleneck, and he shudders under your touch.

Circling him, you let your gaze wander over his flushed face, loving how he stares at you like you’re the only thing he needs in this moment. “Jungkook isn’t home,” you muse, your voice a low, teasing whisper, “and the cake won’t be done for a while…” Your finger traces down his torso, each touch featherlight, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. “Which gives us plenty of time to deal with this very big problem.”

You finish with a suggestive wink, your hand curling into the soft collar of his turtleneck, drawing him forward. His eyes burn with the kind of desire that makes your knees weak, and you can’t help but marvel at how turtlenecks have never looked so delicious until now. His lips part, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him, your bratty side flaring up, eager to take control of the moment.

“Take off those offending skinny jeans, and maybe I’ll help you out,” you purr, your voice a delicious blend of tease and command. You lean in to press a swift, hungry kiss to his lips, the taste of him lingering as you pull back, and in a fluid motion, you’re down on the cool floor. Namjoon’s fingers are fumbling with urgency, unbuttoning and dragging his jeans and boxers down, setting himself free. His cock springs out, flushed a deep, angry red, heavy and aching for your touch. The sight of him makes your mouth water, anticipation crackling in the air between you.

He lets out a mock pout, breathless yet endearing. “But I thought you liked me in skinny jeans,” he mumbles, a half-smile curving his lips.

You can’t help but laugh, your voice warm and laced with desire. “I do,” you reply, your eyes dancing with mischief, “but they look so damn tight. Besides, I’d much rather see you in loose sweatpants—so shameless, the way they cling to you, showing off that big cock of yours.”

His cheeks flush a deeper pink, but the blush is short-lived. The moment your hand wraps around his thick length, he’s groaning, a low, unrestrained sound that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His head tips back, and you pull your hand away for a moment to spit in your palm, the motion slow and tantalizing. His breath catches, and then your hand is back on him, gliding over his cock with a slick, practiced rhythm.

You start slow, your touch light, your strokes deep and deliberate, savoring the way he shudders under your hands. Namjoon stumbles backward, his back meeting the counter for support, his knuckles whitening as he grips the edges. You follow him, still on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes, loving the way his brows knit together, his jaw slack with pleasure.

“So good with your hands,” he praises, his voice raw and wrecked, and you preen under the compliment, your lips curving into a wicked smile. His words fuel you, and you tighten your grip, picking up speed, letting your hand work over him with a skill that has his hips stuttering.

“Yeah, I know,” you muse, a playful lilt to your tone, eyes wide and feigning innocence though your actions are anything but. “You’ve told me before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it.”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, his chest heaving. “Ah, yeah,” he pants, his voice a beautiful, strained melody. “I know how much you love praise.”

You shrug, your expression one of nonchalance, though your heart is racing. “Guilty as charged,” you admit, your voice softer, but no less mischievous. His praise drives you, makes you work harder to draw out every bit of pleasure, reveling in the way his body reacts, knowing that your hands—and your lust—are the only things holding him together.

He begins to make those sounds—oh, those sweet, broken sounds that send a thrill dancing down your spine and make you preen with pride. The husky groans slipping from his lips are like music, raw and intoxicating, and you drink them in, feeling the power in every shudder of his body.

“Shit, if you keep that up, I’m going to come soon,” he pants, his voice strained and desperate.

A playful smile curves your lips as you chuckle, the sound dripping with mischief. “That was my plan all along,” you tease, your strokes never faltering. “But maybe,” you whisper, your voice honeyed and inviting, “you’d like to fuck my throat a little. My hands are good, sure, but my mouth…” You let the words trail off, your intentions clear in the way your eyes glint with lust.

He groans again, and he swears his heart must be doing wild backflips as he watches you kneel between his legs, looking up at him with those wicked, innocent eyes. “Fuck,” he chokes out, his breath hitching, and you know you’ve got him.

“Is that a yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, the very picture of innocence that you most certainly are not.

He nods, his voice nearly a whisper, “Yes, yes it is, babe.”

That’s all the invitation you need. Your mouth opens, and you slowly ease his cock past your lips, wet heat enveloping him inch by inch. He shivers at the sensation, and you relish the tiny, desperate noise that escapes him when you take him all the way to the back of your throat. You hum, sending vibrations along his length, and saliva spills from the corners of your mouth, glistening as it drips down your chin.

Namjoon looks down at you, eyes blown wide, and you can feel the way his cock pulses at the sight—how the vision of you, mouth full of him, drives him wild and hurtles him closer to the edge. His hands clutch at the countertop behind him, knuckles white, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

You work him with a fervor, sucking like you’re drawing the very life from him, your hands pressing into his thighs for balance. Your nails dig into his skin, and the sharp pleasure-pain makes him hiss, a shudder rippling through his frame.

“Oh, babe,” he groans, the sound rumbling deep and sinful, making your core clench around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly. His words are rough, a plea and a praise all at once, and you moan in response, the vibrations making him jolt.

Saliva spills from your lips, pooling beneath you, and you feel the way his cock twitches and throbs against your tongue. Namjoon’s breathing is ragged, each pant a testament to how close he is, how you’ve unraveled him. He’s hanging on by a thread, and you revel in knowing you’ve brought him to this point, trembling and undone.

“Babe,” he gasps, his voice raw, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure, like he’s unravelling from the inside out. His whole body is taut with need, and you feel a thrill course through you, knowing how deeply you affect him.

You pull away, your lips leaving his cock with a wet, teasing pop, and you look up at him, eyes glittering with mischief. “Come on my face,” you whisper, the invitation dripping from your lips like honey, sultry and certain.

He bites down hard on his lower lip, a deep, guttural groan escaping him. One of his hands releases its white-knuckled grip on the kitchen counter, and he wraps his long fingers around his cock, stroking himself to his climax. You watch, utterly mesmerized, as he comes undone. His release is spectacular—thick ropes of hot, pearlescent white paint your skin, catching on your cheeks, lips, and eyelashes. You gasp, tongue darting out in a futile attempt to catch some of his warmth on your lips. The rest splatters messily across your face, dripping down your chin and streaking across your closed eyelids. The whole moment feels heady, unrestrained, and you can’t help but savor it.

Namjoon’s chest rises and falls heavily, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, like he’s run a marathon just to reach this peak. A satisfied chuckle spills from his mouth, and he drags a trembling hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “You,” he says, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lingering desire, “are a dangerous woman.”

A wicked grin blooms on your lips as you giggle, sticking your tongue out to lick the semen you can reach. Your fingers swipe up the rest, and you suck them clean, savoring him like sticky, decadent BBQ sauce on tender ribs. Delicious. The sight makes Namjoon shiver, another groan rumbling from his chest, his eyes never leaving your face.

Just then, the oven chimes, the sound almost absurdly cheerful, signaling that the cake is ready. You rise to your feet, wiping your face with a towel, and make your way over to the oven to retrieve it. Namjoon watches, dazed, as he tugs his jeans back into place, still trying to catch his breath.

Once the cake has cooled, you sit together at the kitchen table, sharing warm slices of carrot cake and steaming mugs of rich hot cocoa. The two of you laugh and talk, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment, reminiscing about your favorite Christmas traditions, as the world outside shivers in a cold winter’s embrace.

Namjoon doesn’t often find himself behind the wheel, but today, you’ve let him take charge of his SUV, navigating snowy roads en route to the superstore for Christmas ornaments. It’s not your usual go-to place for holiday decorations, but he’d been so eager, so insistent, that you couldn’t resist. Now here you are, braving the cold with an unusual sense of adventure.

Though Namjoon handles the SUV with a tentative grip, you can’t help but question, as you have many times before, why he even bothered to get a driver’s license in the first place. He never seems fully at ease, and his response—“Everyone has one, and I need it”—always strikes you as a half-hearted excuse. But still, you get it. Out here, where the stores sprawl far and wide, the independence a car brings is a necessity, not a luxury.

He finally pulls into the parking lot, choosing a spot absurdly far from the store’s entrance, the car a lonely island surrounded by an ocean of untouched snow. You laugh, breath misting into the winter air. It’s such a Namjoon thing to do: a cautious maneuver, the kind either born from nervousness about navigating tight parking spaces or, perhaps, the desire to protect his vehicle from rogue shopping carts and careless door dings. But you know him too well—he’s not someone obsessed with material possessions.

Bundled up in your thick coat and scarf, you trudge across the frigid parking lot, boots crunching on the ice-slicked pavement, silently cursing Namjoon’s overcautious choice. The cold gnaws at your cheeks, and you can’t hide the frown forming on your face.

Namjoon notices, and his expression softens with apology. “I’m sorry,” he says, his breath forming tiny clouds in the frosty air.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, though there’s no real heat behind your words. “But I’m driving back.” Your voice holds a note of mock seriousness, and he breaks into a chuckle, the sound light and airy, dissipating into the wintry sky like a whispered secret.

Inside the superstore, the air feels warm and festive, the smell of pine and cinnamon drifting faintly from somewhere. A dazzling aisle dedicated entirely to Christmas ornaments stretches before you, shimmering with glitter and tinsel. You watch in mild disbelief as Namjoon gleefully fills his cart with gingerbread house kits, plush stockings, strings of tinsel, garlands, and ornaments that glitter like captured starlight.

“Don’t you have decorations from last year?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as the cart reaches a borderline ridiculous state, nearly overflowing with festive cheer.

He scratches the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Well,” he starts, laughter bubbling up, “I did.”

You cross your arms and turn to him, your eyes narrowing with mock suspicion, silently demanding the story behind this sudden lack of decorations. Namjoon’s laughter grows, filling the space around you, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself, bracing for whatever endearingly clumsy tale he’s about to share.

“I dropped all the boxes with the Christmas decorations while moving,” Namjoon mumbles, his voice soft as a snowfall, almost swallowed by the warm air. His embarrassment paints his cheeks with a blush that’s sweeter than mulled wine, and you can’t help but burst into laughter. Without a second thought, you wrap your arm around his broad frame, a warm, playful gesture that feels as natural as breathing.

“Thought so,” you tease, laughter spilling from your lips, echoing like bells ringing through the icy parking lot.

Namjoon’s blush deepens, a rosy warmth that makes him look endearingly boyish. Still, he continues with his mission, selecting ornaments with the earnest focus of someone determined to reclaim lost holiday cheer. Once the cart is brimming with festive treasures, he pushes it outside, the wheels wobbling and skidding over the snow-dappled asphalt.

“I can’t believe they haven’t cleared the snow yet,” you scoff, tugging open the hatch and helping to load up his haul. Each ornament feels like a little promise of magic, waiting to light up the winter nights.

“Yeah, not the easiest thing to push through,” he chuckles, his laughter a quiet rumble, like distant thunder softened by clouds.

He returns the cart, clumsily navigating the slippery ground, and then hands you the keys with a smile. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you take the wheel and guide the SUV back to his place, where the real magic begins.

Inside his warm home, Namjoon hauls the bags and boxes indoors, and you peel off your thick coat, the heat wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. His house feels almost like your own now, a second heart beating in rhythm with your own. You move easily into his kitchen, making tea with the practiced comfort of someone who belongs there. The kettle sings as you pour hot amber liquid into cups, steam curling like ghostly ribbons.

Namjoon, meanwhile, sifts through his purchases, creating little piles of tinsel, baubles, and gingerbread house kits, organizing the chaos with a delighted gleam in his eye. You join him in the living room, stringing up fairy lights that twinkle like fallen stars, draping garlands of tinsel over every surface. He paints his windows with swirling snow scenes and delicate winter landscapes, and you marvel at his handiwork, secretly wishing he’d come and transform your windows, too.

Christmas music fills the room, and the two of you sing along, voices blending together in a harmony of laughter and half-remembered lyrics. You dance around the room, giggling until your cheeks ache, joy blooming warm and bright against the winter outside. When the final ornament is hung on the tree and the garlands rest perfectly in place, you both collapse onto the couch, still breathless with laughter. Your playful energy lingers, bubbling over into gentle touches and mischievous smiles, and you find yourselves tangled together on the sofa, the festive glow softening every shadow. Time slips away until it’s late, the kind of late that feels heavy with dreams, and you realize it’s time to go home. But even as you leave, Namjoon’s warmth and the laughter you’ve shared linger, lighting up the cold night like the twinkling stars outside.

You take a step back, your eyes wide and brimming with a sense of wonder, marveling at the world you’ve created within the cozy walls of your home. The decorations glow softly, string lights shimmering like constellations, and every garland and ornament seems to dance in the warm embrace of the holiday spirit. Namjoon’s snowy landscapes even grace your windows, delicate swirls of frosted white transforming your view into a winter fairy tale. It feels so perfectly Christmas—Hygge, as the Danish call it, a word that holds all the warmth and comfort of shared moments and quiet joy.

In the corner stands your plastic tree, tall and proud, adorned with an eclectic mix of ornaments and lights. Its colors catch the twinkle of the lights strung around the room, a joyful echo of Namjoon’s more organic tree. You think back to the way he had explained, with that earnest passion of his, why he chooses to get a real tree each year—to support local farmers and give back to the environment in his own way. You remember laughing and teasing him about the effort, happy with your fuss-free tree, but secretly admiring the way he cares so deeply for the world around him.

“Do you want to come with me to the plant store today?” you ask, your voice soft, floating like the steam curling up from your cup of hot cocoa. Namjoon smiles wide, his dimples deepening, and the warmth of that grin feels like a little burst of sunlight on a winter day. He’s wearing glasses today—big, bold black frames, because he lost his contacts—and with his cozy wool turtleneck, he looks every bit the sexy professor you’ve always daydreamed about. You have to stop yourself from staring, but God, the man is a vision, and he’s right here beside you, yours. Well, hopefully he’s yours—there’s always that tiny flicker of uncertainty, but for now, it feels enough.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, his voice rich with warmth.

You drain the last of your cocoa, savoring the sweetness, and soon the two of you are bundled up, making your way across the icy path to his SUV. You take the driver’s seat without hesitation, your hands confident on the wheel. The snow-laden roads have always felt thrilling to navigate, and the car hums softly with the gentle croon of Christmas music drifting from the radio.

The silence between you is comfortable, wrapped in the magic of the season, until Namjoon turns to you, breaking the quiet with a question. “What are you doing this Christmas?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

You flick the windshield wipers on, watching the snow melt away in streaks. “Just spending it with Kookie,” you say, your smile bittersweet. “Without my mom, and with my dad’s Alzheimer’s… well, I just stay home now.” Your voice carries the weight of old memories, the ones that sting a little but still feel precious. You can’t help but think of past Christmases, filled with laughter and warmth, and the ache of their absence lingers, but so does the gratitude for what you still have.

Namjoon shifts, his concern evident. “You’re not going to visit your dad?” he asks, his curiosity mingling with worry, and he quickly realizes it might be a painful subject.

“I do visit him,” you explain softly, your voice gentle, like a snowflake drifting down. “But… he doesn’t remember me as his daughter anymore. It’s hard, sitting there and watching him struggle to place me. But I still go, even if he doesn’t know who I am. Because, well, it matters.” The sorrow is there, but it’s wrapped in acceptance, a quiet strength you’ve carried for years. You catch the sadness in Namjoon’s eyes and smile, a small reassurance. “It’s alright. Really. I’ve made peace with it. And Kookie makes Christmas feel like family again.”

Namjoon’s frown lingers, but there’s something tender in his expression, an unspoken promise that he understands, or at least wants to. And in that shared moment, with snow whispering against the windows and the world cocooned in winter’s embrace, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“What about you?” you ask, your voice warm with curiosity as you guide the car onto the road leading to your favorite sanctuary—the plant store, a haven of greenery and seasonal enchantment, where Christmas decor shimmers among leafy life.

Namjoon’s eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m spending Christmas with my sister, nephew, and my parents. They’re all coming to my place because, you know, I’ve got that big house now,” he says with a laugh that dances in the air. You recall the image of him from months ago, holding that little boy’s hand. You’d once mistaken the child for his own, only to learn he was the devoted uncle, always stepping in to help his sister.

“That sounds really lovely,” you muse, your voice softening with a wistful undertone, like the ghost of a melody from a long-lost song. The ache is familiar: a yearning for the warmth and chaotic joy of Christmases past, for the easy laughter and the irreplaceable comfort of family. A tear slips, unbidden, down your cheek, and you quickly brush it away with the back of your hand, hoping he won’t notice. But Namjoon’s gaze, gentle and perceptive, catches everything.

He reaches out, his hand warm on your thigh, a grounding touch. “Maybe… we could have a Christmas dinner?” he suggests, his voice hopeful. “Just for our friends. Maybe the day before Christmas Eve, since that’s when my family arrives.”

You sniffle, pulling the car into the bustling parking lot, where cars glisten under a light dusting of snow. Unlike Namjoon, who prefers the solitude of the far-off spaces, you park right up front, as close as you can get. “That sounds really nice,” you admit, though your words carry a hint of guardedness. “But, please, don’t turn it into a pity party for me.”

Namjoon nods, understanding shining in his dark eyes. “That wasn’t my intention,” he promises. “I just think it’d be nice for all of us. No pity, just good company and holiday cheer.” His smile is genuine, disarming, and he unbuckles his seatbelt as you cut the engine, the car falling silent save for the occasional thud of snow hitting the windshield.

Stepping out, the cold air nips at your skin, each breath a puff of white mist. The snow falls steadily, blanketing the world in a quiet, crystalline beauty. You hurry to grab a cart, already anticipating the treasures you’ll load into it.

Inside, the store is an odd middle ground between brisk and balmy, chilled enough to keep the plants thriving but not as bone-numbing as the winter outside. The first thing to catch your eye is the dazzling array of string lights, tinsel, and an extravagant display featuring Santa’s sleigh, his reindeer poised mid-flight over faux snow, glistening like diamond dust. Namjoon’s eyes widen with childlike wonder as he drifts toward the scene, marveling out loud at every intricate detail. His awe is contagious, and you find yourself grinning as he disappears into a life-sized gingerbread house, its candy-cane pillars twinkling.

Together, you weave through aisles of holiday magic. You pick up a snow globe with a penguin bundled in a sky-blue scarf, the world inside it swirling with glittering snow. It makes you smile, so into the cart it goes. Purple ornaments catch your eye—rare and radiant, the perfect find for your collection. You toss them in with a feeling of quiet triumph. Your hand lingers on a wooden reindeer, beautifully carved and rich with detail, a rustic piece that seems to carry the very spirit of the forest. You trace its elegant antlers with your fingertips, then place it carefully in the cart.

Namjoon catches your eye, his glasses slightly fogged from the store’s temperature shift, and your heart does a little flip.

Namjoon stands in the store, eyes wide with wonder, looking at everything like a child waking up to magic on Christmas morning. His excitement radiates, pure and joyful, igniting the air around you with an energy that is impossible to resist. Yes, the store might resemble a festive explosion—every aisle drenched in holiday cheer as though Santa himself had painted the place with his overflowing bag of marvels—but watching Namjoon, awe-struck and glowing, is everything. A smile blooms on your face, gentle yet irrepressible, as your heart picks up speed. It flutters wildly, as if it holds a kaleidoscope of butterflies desperate to take flight. Warmth rises to your cheeks, a blush deepening and spreading, while your mind surrenders to thoughts of him and only him.

A quiet realization unfolds, maybe you should finally have that “where is this going?” talk with Namjoon. Because, damn, you know you’ve fallen hard, hopelessly and beautifully.

Your eyes catch sight of an aisle bursting with rolls of gift wrap, and you drift over, searching for the minimalist designs that you love. Just as you reach out for a roll in understated gold, Namjoon clears his throat, drawing your gaze back to him. There’s that smile, the one that makes your heart skip and your knees feel like jelly. He points upward, and you follow his gesture to the ceiling. String lights twinkle in every hue, casting a soft, whimsical glow. Hanging there, nestled amidst the colorful illumination, is a sprig of mistletoe; vivid green with playful red berries, promising a bit of holiday mischief.

A laugh escapes you, light and melodic. “Oh, so you want a kiss?” you tease, your voice brimming with warmth.

Namjoon chuckles, and the sound feels like a spark lighting up something inside you. “You know,” you murmur, leaning in just a touch, “you don’t need mistletoe to kiss me. I always want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t need any more prompting. Both of you move at once, lips meeting in a rush that’s tender yet hungry. The world falls away as your mouths meld together, and his hands find their way around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You melt into him, a soft moan slipping from your lips, echoing the need that simmers between you. When you finally break apart, a breathless laugh leaves your mouth, the air between you charged and electric. Namjoon’s gaze is dark and glassy, his desire plain to see, and you know yours must mirror the same intensity.

“Are you done with your shopping?” he asks, his voice husky and threaded with want. His words make you bite your lip, heat pooling low in your belly as you nod, barely able to think straight.

“Great,” he replies, his tone velvet and commanding. He takes the cart from your grasp, his fingers brushing yours with a touch that leaves you reeling, and he pushes it toward the checkout. His assertiveness makes your pulse race, a delicious thrill running through you. Somehow, you manage to pay for the Christmas treasures and help load everything into his car, though your mind spins with anticipation. Namjoon returns the cart, his long strides carrying him back to you as snow continues to fall, whispering secrets to the earth.

You climb into the car, turning it on. The heat slowly creeps in, but the temperature between you and Namjoon is already scorching. The air feels thick, heavy with unspoken desires, the kind of tension that crackles and leaves you breathless. He hums along to the Christmas song playing softly on the radio, but your thoughts wander, fixating on his voice, his lips, the memory of the way he kisses you, the way his mouth explores your pussy. You shift uncomfortably, desire making you restless, and you catch yourself before you lose focus on the snow-laden road.

Namjoon chuckles, a low, knowing sound, but he doesn’t move to touch you, though his presence is intoxicating. A part of you craves his hands, his warmth, his everything, but you’re grateful for his restraint. Not while you’re driving, you think, exhaling in a blend of frustration and exhilaration. It would be dangerous, especially on these slick, icy streets. Yet even without his touch, the tension coils tightly, promising a night that will be anything but cold.

You pull into your driveway, snowflakes swirling and dissolving in the twilight air, and as soon as the car engine cuts off, anticipation buzzes through your veins. With a swift click of your seatbelt, you’re out of your restraints and leaning over. You grab the thick collar of Namjoon’s jacket, tugging him closer, your mouths colliding in a heated, desperate kiss. Your lips part, breaths mingling, and a low growl escapes you, primal and hungry, as if you’ve been starving for this moment. You don’t know how long you devour each other like that, your hands fisting his jacket, your heart racing as he groans into your kiss.

When you finally break apart, Namjoon’s chuckle rumbles between you, warm and infectious. “Shouldn’t we… maybe… take this inside?” he teases, his voice husky, eyes glittering with barely restrained desire.

You bite your lip, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Yeah, we should.” Without a second thought, you scramble out of the car, forgetting the mound of Christmas decorations packed in the back. You only have one thing on your mind. Grabbing Namjoon’s hand, you lead him through the cold afternoon, hurrying to escape the winter air and into the sanctuary of warmth inside.

Once you’re in, both of you shed your coats and kick off your boots in a frenzy, laughter echoing in the foyer. His eyes are dark, stormy with arousal, and your pulse quickens, a delicious anticipation settling in your core. “I don’t think Jungkook’s home,” you say, your voice breathy as you nibble your lip, taking his hand again. He lets you drag him up the stairs, his grip firm, electrifying.

Inside your room, you don’t waste a second. You pull him close, your hands cradling his face as you kiss him with a ferocity that makes your knees weak. His hands slide to your waist, guiding you back until your legs hit the bed, and you can’t suppress the shudder that rolls through you.

“Namjoon,” you pant, lips brushing his, “I want you. I need you.”

His eyes burn with intensity as he rasps, “I know. I need you too, baby.” The low, gravelly timbre of his voice sends a wave of heat coursing through you, but frustration boils over.

“I want your cock,” you admit, desire raw in your voice, making no room for subtlety.

He pauses, then breaks into a chuckle that’s rich and rough, slicing through the tension with ease. “My cock, huh?” he teases, eyebrows arching. “Is that all I’m good for?”

You pull back slightly, heart lurching at the implication, and your eyes widen in disbelief. “What? No,” you insist, voice softening, sincerity bleeding through. You turn your gaze to him, your expression fierce but tender. “Your cock is nice and very good, but it’s you that I love,” you confess, the words tumbling out, bare and vulnerable.

For a beat, there’s a silence that seems to suspend the universe. Your heart stops, bracing for his reaction, hoping you haven’t ruined this, that you haven’t scared him off. But then his lips curve into a smirk, one so full of warmth it melts your doubts.

“Good thing I love you too,” he murmurs, pulling you close again.

You don’t get the chance to respond; his mouth is on yours, urgent and consuming. He presses you down onto the bed, his lips trailing from your cheek to your ear, where his breath ghosts over your skin, sending shivers of delight racing down your spine. You moan, your eyes fluttering shut, breath hitching as he whispers in your ear, voice low and dangerous.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, babe,” he promises, his words sending a molten thrill straight through you. “So good that no one else will ever compare.”

The sheer need in his voice makes you pant, heat pooling between your thighs. “I don’t want anyone else,” you whisper, your hands splaying over his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, before dipping down to suck a mark into the curve of your neck. The sensation makes you moan, your pussy clenching with anticipation. God, you’re already soaked, desire pulsing through every nerve, and as he lays claim to your skin, you know you’ll never want anyone but him.

He pauses, lips still flushed from the kiss, and pulls back with a soft, playful sigh. “These glasses are in the way,” he mutters, sliding them off and setting them aside. Your immediate frown makes him laugh, a deep, resonant sound that you feel in your chest.

“What?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement. “Do you actually like my glasses?”

You bite your lip and nod, a smirk curving your mouth. “Yeah. You look stupidly hot with them on—like some impossibly sexy professor,” you giggle, the words spilling out like a secret you’ve been holding in.

His eyebrows lift, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Oh?” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again, lips brushing yours with renewed heat.

You giggle, the lightness of the moment threading through your desire. “But can you even see me?” you tease, your voice lilting.

He chuckles, a warm rumble against your skin. “Not very well. You’re just a blurry outline.”

“A sexy blur,” you correct with a laugh, playfulness and arousal weaving together.

He hums in agreement, nuzzling your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire. “My sexy blur,” he whispers, sending shivers racing down your spine. But you gently push him back, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I want you to really see me,” you say, your fingers searching the bed until they find his glasses. You carefully slip them back onto his face, adjusting them so they sit just right. “There,” you whisper. “Now you can see me again. My sexy Joon.”

Namjoon grins, the lenses framing his eyes in a way that makes your pulse race, and he slowly straightens, standing at the edge of your bed. His hands move with purpose as he undresses, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal hard planes of muscle and soft, warm skin. When he’s down to his black boxers, his arousal straining visibly against the fabric, you can’t help but draw in a sharp breath, desire crackling in the air between you.

He watches as you sit up, your gaze locked on him, and you lift your shirt over your head, casting it aside. Your bra follows as does your pants and panties, and the sound Namjoon makes—a low, guttural moan—sends a flush spreading over your skin. His gaze drinks you in, dark and reverent.

He leans toward your pussy, his intentions clear, but you stop him with a playful chuckle, pushing lightly at his chest. “Please,” you say, your voice husky, “just fuck me already. I’m ready, and I want you so bad.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he lets out a choked, breathless laugh, shedding his boxers in one swift motion. He wraps a hand around his cock, giving himself a few firm strokes to steady himself, and you lie back, spreading your legs in invitation. Your body trembles with anticipation, your need palpable.

“Hm,” you tease, wiggling your hips with a grin. “I’m ready to open my petals wide for you. Come and claim me.”

He laughs, a delighted sound, his hands warm as they grasp your thighs. “Cute,” he says, but his smile is laced with desire as he lines himself up with your entrance. Just as he begins to push into you, a wicked gleam sparks in his eyes. “I’ve got a pun too,” he pants, his voice thick as he stretches you open, inch by inch.

“I think it’s time to fertilize this relationship.”

You hold your breath, feeling him fill you, your body arching in response to the exquisite pressure. His words finally register as he settles fully inside, and you gasp, a laugh bubbling up through the haze of pleasure. “Wait—did you just say you want to fertilize me?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows, your voice breathless and amused.

Namjoon groans, his laugh turning into a deep grunt as he moves, your bodies pressed together, the playful intimacy of the moment making everything feel impossibly right. “Maybe I did,” he whispers, his breath hot on your skin, his hips beginning to move in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

His breath catches in his throat, a strangled groan spilling out, thick with pleasure. “God, you’re so tight, babe,” he murmurs, voice rough, a velvet rasp that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers grip you with a fervent need, and his hips meet yours in a dance of primal rhythm. His lips brush your ear, whispering sin into the dark. “Yes,” he growls, each word laced with yearning, “I want you to take all my cum.”

A heat unfurls within you, wild and untamed, and a fevered cry breaks from your lips, back arching, body yearning for more. “Fuck yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling, a symphony of need and desire, “fill me, stretch me, make me yours.” He pulls back, a tease of agony, before plunging in again, deeper this time, and a wave of sensation washes over you, stealing your breath, making your world fracture into shards of pleasure. Toes curl, your heartbeat roaring in your ears, and you claw at his biceps, desperate to hold onto something solid.

“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with urgency, “Fill me up. I want to feel you everywhere, for you to watch your cum drip from my pussy—” A shudder courses through you, and you add, breathless and trembling, “And then fuck it back inside, and give me more.”

A groan rumbles in his chest, and you feel his body tense, the delicious twitch inside you betraying how your words unravel him. “Fuck,” he gasps, the curse a melody wrapped in desperation, his thrusts becoming brutal and consuming. His eyes darken, a storm threatening to drown you both. “My perfect little cockslut,” he grits out, voice threaded with awe and possession, “always so needy for my big cock.”

You wrap your legs around him, pressing your heels into his lower back, desperate to pull him deeper. His thrusts find that secret spot inside you, and the world around you shatters. Your cries echo in the room, a crescendo of ecstasy. “Joon-ah!” you cry, voice a broken plea, and he responds, hips driving harder, chasing your unraveling.

“My beautiful little slut,” he pants, voice cracked and shattered, “made to take me. Made to come for me.” His rhythm is relentless, and the coil in your belly winds tight, snapping like a bolt of lightning. Pleasure blooms through you, so vivid it turns your vision to a white, a brilliant blur. Breathless, undone, you tremble, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He catches your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, and he drives into you, each thrust deeper, leaving you raw and oversensitive. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling, clutching as your body convulses, waves of bliss surging through you. You feel yourself unravel completely, and he moves with you, relentless, sending you spiraling further into the pleasure you never want to escape.

“So good, my love,” he murmurs, a reverent hymn of praise, and your body responds instantly, your core clenching, a desperate, needy flutter. His eyes darken, desire a tangible force between you. “You ready for me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice a teasing growl, and before you can answer, his strong hands grip your thighs, pulling you open wider, pinning you beneath him as he begins to thrust harder, deeper.

“Yes!” you cry, your voice raw, your need laid bare in that single, breathless scream. His hips snap against yours, each movement carrying a delicious, reckless abandon. One hand drifts between your bodies, and his fingers find your clit, drawing tight, wicked circles that send electricity racing through you. The buildup is sudden, overwhelming—a storm surging through you with a force that steals your breath. You’re undone, surprised by your own body’s eager surrender.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, every nerve alight, toes curling from the rush of pleasure. “I’m going to come again,” you moan, and your head falls back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat, every inch of you arched, straining, craving.

“That’s it, babe,” he coaxes, voice raw and full of awe as he watches you come undone. His gaze never leaves you, and he drives into you with relentless precision, chasing his own high as he feels you pulse around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he rasps, his voice cracking with the strain, his own pleasure just out of reach. He’s relentless, a man driven by your shared ecstasy.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, and the words unravel you further. Your head tosses back and forth on the sheets, body a trembling, heaving wreck of sensation. His eyes meet yours, a connection sparking between you, and your breath comes in frantic pants. “Namjoon,” you plead, and his mouth softens, the intensity in his eyes tempered by tenderness.

“I know,” he breathes, his voice a soothing whisper, “I’ve got you.” His thrusts quicken, become erratic, and his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in as he hovers at the precipice. “I’m almost there, babe,” he promises, and with a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you feel him shudder, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His release pulses into you, warmth spilling inside as he cries your name, his face twisting in a perfect symphony of pleasure.

You watch him, utterly captivated—his glasses slipping slightly, his jaw slack with bliss—and the sight alone threatens to push you to the brink again. His movements slow, hips stuttering, his body collapsing gently into yours as the high fades. Still trembling, he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s as soft as it is reverent, and you can’t help but giggle, delight spilling over.

He slips out of you, eyes darkening once more as he watches his release trickle from you, and your pussy clench around the emptiness, a final echo of your desire. With a satisfied groan, he flops down beside you, laughter bubbling up between you both. His hand rakes through his tousled hair, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

You turn your head toward him, the world around you spinning with a dizzying, intoxicating mix of something sweet and wild. Your heart pounds in your chest, a cocktail of longing and reckless abandon. You know you have to ask him, and you have to ask now. The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, raw and urgent. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you breathe out in a rush, like you’ve been holding your breath for far too long.

His eyes catch yours, a grin spreading across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Of course,” he replies, his voice warm and steady, like he’s known all along.

You smile back at him, and in that instant, the weight you’ve been carrying seems to lift from your shoulders. Your heart feels lighter, like it’s fluttering in your chest, freed from the gravity of uncertainty. He leans in, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His voice is soft, but there’s a sincerity to it that makes your heart ache in the best way. “You’ve got me blooming in ways I’ve never felt before.”

A laugh bursts from your lips, spontaneous and full of joy. “You’re corny,” you tease, the warmth between you igniting the spark of something real, something tender.

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that makes your pulse race. “Good thing I love you, you nerd,” you add, his eyes gleaming with affection, the kind of love that feels both easy and electric.

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of warmth crawl up your neck. “Ouch. Just be happy that I love your bitchy and bratty mouth,” he smirks playfully, his hands moving to pull you closer.

The air shifts as he sits up on the bed, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Speaking of,” he says, voice dropping low with a teasing edge. “Should I clean you off, or give it some time to let my seed settle inside you?”

Heat rises in your cheeks, the words hanging heavy between you, and you nearly choke on the air. “Please fuck me again, Joonie,” you whisper, the rawness of your need almost too much to take.

His lips curl into a slow smile as he lowers his mouth to your stomach, kissing you with a reverence that steals your breath away. His lips trail upward, brushing across your breasts, your neck, and finally landing on your mouth in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then give me a moment,” he murmurs against your lips, “and I’ll be ready to go again.”

But before you can lose yourself completely in the heat of the moment, your phone vibrates multiple times on the nightstand, the interruption sharp and unwelcome. You glance at the screen, curiosity piquing in your chest, and your stomach sinks when you see the flood of messages. They’re all from Jungkook.

You groan in embarrassment, cringing at the thought of what might be waiting for you in those texts.

“What is it, babe?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with concern as he notices the change in your expression.

“I guess Jungkook was home all along…” you mumble, heat spreading across your face like wildfire. The realization hangs heavy in the air between you, and both of you understand what it means. Namjoon bursts out laughing, the sound full of warmth and affection. He pulls you into his embrace, his lips trailing soft kisses along your neck, inhaling your scent as if he can’t get enough.

Your laughter bubbles up, the embarrassment melting away in the comfort of his arms, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in your own world of joy and tenderness.

→ Requested taglist: @callmenoona25 @svnbangtansworld @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @kamilamb @joonlover1207

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex

→ Author’s endnote: I hope enjoyed this one, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜 © @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

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facioleeknow · 5 months ago

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The art of pleasure ch. 5

Urgency ° Han Jisung

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: SMUT 18+ ONLY, college AU WC: 1.6k +

TW: experienced han, inexperienced han, chan is naked but when isn't he, quickie, kind of public sex, creampie, cunnilingus, reader doesn't cum, changbin cameo and he is flirty

AN: thank you so much for the love on this series, I hope you enjoy this new chapter <3

“We should really get going.” The last thing you wanted to do was part from Hyunjin, his skin was smooth and warm. His hand gently and calmly caressed your body over your clothes.He whined, his head buried deeper inside the crook of your neck. Your hands creeped their way to the planes of his chests and gently pushed against his skin.

“Baby, if you wanted a second round, you could've told me,” Hyunjin nosed at the column of your neck.

“Don't you dare, Hwang Hyunjin, get up, we need to get going.” The boy giggled, you had never heard him do that, it was cute, you wanted to press kisses all over his face. But you couldn't, you needed to go back to Sigma Kappa Zeta to talk to Chan about what happened before the date.

“Any chance you could also drop me off at your dorm?”

The drive back was a blur and you were pretty sure you dozed off because, at some point, you felt Hyunjin’s gentle hands shaking you awake lightly.

“Thank you, Jinnie,” you yawned tiredly.

“Why did you want to come here?Did you forget something?” Hyunjin grabbed your hand and pulled you close to his side, he spoke lowly with his mouth close to your ear. His breath tickled your neck and raised goosebumps all over your skin.

“I just need to talk to Chan about something.”

The frat house was strangely empty, there were no brothers laying on the couches nor making out with girls. There was only one person, playing at the pool table at the back of the room. Changbin stood in the corner in all of his glory, his muscles flexed and moved as he sank every ball he hit. As you walked across the room and to the stairs with your lover boy on your arm, he raised his eyes and then winked at you. Your whole body felt on fire and your mind hazy, so much that you didn’t notice that you and Hyunjin had stopped in front of Chan’s room.

“Wanna stop by my room after you’ve finished talking?” a playful smirk on the boy’s face.

“I’ve had enough for today, lover boy. I’ll see you around.” Your hand was almost on the doorknob of Chan’s room when Hyunjin spun you around and planted a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I’m counting on that second date, pretty girl, please call me.”

With the confidence that the night with Hyunjin still floating inside you and with the warmth of his kiss spreading from your face to your toes, you knocked on Chan's door and entered.

Your best friend was blissfully asleep on his bed, naked with his legs spread out wide. A blood curdling scream ripped out of your throat and you quickly turned towards the wall. With your back to him, you heard a scream similar to yours and then a loud thump.

“Y/N? Is that you, baby?” He grunted, you were still not facing him.

“Why are you naked, Christopher?!!?” you were freaking out but the sight of Chan spread out like that, peaceful and naked had made you feel things.

“You know I sleep naked and you were bound to see it anyway,” he whined once again, he seemed to do that a lot when he was with you, “ come here,” he opened his arms even if you couldn't see him.

“Chan I don't th-”

“Just hold me please.” You sighed. Why was it so hard to say no to him? Had he casted some kind of spell on you? Your jacket and shoes were soon discarded and you tentatively turned around and laid next to Chan. Keeping your eyes at an acceptable height was the hardest thing you had done in your life.

“You know why I'm here, don't you?” Even as Chan's arms circled you and his face laid on your chest, your voice remained steady. You were annoyed at him and he had to know.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have acted all jealous. I know that. But I never had to share your attention with anybody so I freaked out a bit.”

You knew he was honest, lying wasn't a thing between you two.

“Is that it? You wanted attention, you big child?” Chan giggled at the nickname, he would have killed anybody else had they dared call him that, but you of course were different.

“Yes.”

“Should I sleep here tonight and give you all my cuddles and attention then?”

He tightened his hold on you and planted a kiss right on your collarbone.

“You should.”

“Alright, you should really put some clothes on tho…”

“Shush, it's just skin, go to sleep.”

The morning after Chan's annoying alarm blasted you awake. It was almost mocking, you and your plans of sleeping in for once.

“Chris why the hell are you getting up so early?” You groaned and pushed the heavy body off of you. He didn't budge.

“I need to go to the studio, we need to finish a project. Do you wanna come?” His words had an urgency to them but he still nuzzled his cheek against your chest more and refused to get up.

“Should I?” You muttered, already half asleep.

“I want you to.”

“Okay then.”

Needless to say, you did not get to the studio on time but at least you had stopped at your dorm to change clothes and then grabbed coffee for 3racha as an apology. The studio was as you had remembered it, small and messy, clearly used by men as no woman would let it get like that.

“Hey guys,” you greeted the other two boys as you offered them coffee.

“Hey pretty, I saw you with Hyunjin last night, I hope he treated you well, if not you can always come to me,” he winked again, it seemed like some kind of habit. You giggled.

“He did, actually.”

“Focus on the track, Bin,” Chan chastised his friend. He was jealous. Cute. You patted his head to reassure him, he was special to you and you were special to him, and his whole demeanor shifted.

Han was weirdly quiet and just looked between you, your legs particularly, and the track on his computer. You knew he was gonna be there so you had chosen to wear shorts on purpose, it was obvious he had a thing for your legs and the others had noticed his weird silence as well. Changbin smirked, he knew how obsessed the younger friend was with thighs and yours were extremely delicious.

“Hyung, we should go ask for more paper, we’re out I think,” Bin wasn’t looking at Chan but at the two of you instead, he knew Chan would’ve understood and he would've given you your time.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Chan patted your head on his way out. Han swallowed thickly as the door closed, leaving you two alone in the room.

“Do you want me to take them off, Jisungie?” you batted your lashes at him and a cute blush spread all over his cheeks and down his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he spluttered and stuttered.

“I don’t mind, do you want to?”

“Yes please, oh my god, I’m so hard, I’m gonna die,” he blurted out with no filter whatsoever. You giggled again, he was cute and different from the other boys, you liked him. In one swift motion, you lowered your shorts and panties and bent over the desk.

“Come get me baby.” Han didn’t let you repeat yourself twice because as soon as you had laid your chest on the cold wood, he had kneeled behind you. He was gawking at your pussy like it was the most precious thing on earth; his admiring didn’t last long because he soon buried his entire face between your thighs. He was different from Minho, he was messy and clearly ate for his pleasure. His tongue never stayed on one spot for too long, he moved quickly from your entrance to your clit and then back and over your lips. In a matter of minutes your pussy was slick with wetness and his spit.

“God Jisungie, you’re so messy,” you keened out. Han pulled away from you, his hot breath fanned over your opening.

“Baby, can I please put it in? I need it, so bad,” he whined and whined. It was like the roles were reversed, you were the whiny one usually, but you didn’t mind one bit.

“Go on.” Han scrambled to his feet and quickly lowered his pants and underwear. He slammed into you with force, his thrusts and his dick were different from Hyunjin’s; he went fast and hard, he was chasing his pleasure and his pleasure only and his dick was smaller but thicker, but felt heavenly nonetheless. Jisung moaned and wailed like a dog in heat, your pussy throbbed and dripped more and more with each sound and movement of his hips.

“Oh my god baby I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, please can I do it inside?”

“Already?” you asked out of breath, he just whimpered and nodded, “yeah, you can.”

“Oh my god, Hyunin was right last night, you got good pussy.” It only took him a few more thrusts from him to still and spill inside you. Your face had never felt hotter, they talked about you like that?

Han laid on your back, his arms circled around your torso, it was an awkward position but his weight on you felt comforting.

“I’m sorry you didn’t cum, baby.”

“It’s okay, you’ll make it up to me next time,” you smiled, your cheek squished against the desk.

“Yes ma’am.”

A sudden knock at the door shifted the mood in the room, Changbin and Chan’s voices loud and clear.

“You didn’t make her cum, are you serious?!?”

“Unbelievable, Han Jisung.”

@kflixnet

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seleneprince · 1 month ago

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Part 2 of my MC's file from the yandere!batfam au

HER ARSENAL:

-Lucia's skills as a hacker are inspired by the Watch Dogs universe.

-She can remotely hack phones to access data, disable alarms, or track locations. Tamper with security cameras for intel or to map out routes. Overloard junction boxes to create distractions or disable power.

-Even manipulate traffic lights to cause accidents or create a escape route.

-She can also override vehicle systems, remotely controlling cars or locking people inside.

-She's also an inventor. Her fascination with tech doesn't end only in programming. She loves creating and developing tech stuff. Robots and drones are her favourites, designed for surveillance, as weapons, or other related tasks, such as planting bugs and retreiving items.

-With time, she learns to build specialized tools like signal jammers, EMPs, or hacking tools disguised as everyday items. Nothing escapes her.

-She has many hiding spots in Gotham, after years of finding routes by jumping through rooftops and sneaking around, but she mostly frecuents her main safehouse, that's located within an abandoned warehouse in The Narrows, and extends below utilizing portions of the closed underground station.

-She knows no one would think of looking down there, unless they know what they're looking for.

-It serves her as a workshop, but also as an operations center and her own personal heaven, where she can rest and enjoy herself in peace. She feels more at home there than in the Wayne manor.

-She puts her gymnastic skills to good use, sneaking through rooftops, alleyways, and urban infrastructure to her advantage. Sometimes she'll rely on drones for mobility instead, controlling them to scale virtually any wall and obstacle that she can't by bypass with parkour.

-She's not a fighter, but years of judo classes have allowed to defend herself when the situation calls for it. She's usually armed with compact, high-voltage stun weapons that incapacitate people without killing them. All of which designed and developed by her.

-She operates with an alter ego, Ghost, and later Zero, with which she manages her "errands" and communicates with people who hire her services. At first, the alter ego only exists online, but with time, she begins to intervene more in her missions, and it's not unusual for her to sneak into places to do her work, so she uses a disguise.

-When she's acting as her alter ego, she wears form-fitting athletic wear for unrestricted movement, with a jacket over it with deep pockets and hidden compartments, that helps conceal her shape. A sleek, high-design mask that covers from her nose to her forehead, equipped with augmented reality features for hacking on the go and a voice modifier, which creates a robotic tone that makes impossible to discern her age or gender. She also uses gloves, to keep her fingerprints away from any surface.

-She started doing some hacking here and there for hiring, but eventually, she associates with villains and works with them. She does some morally and legally questionable stuff (downright crimes) for money and also for the thrill of power, for the self-validation.

-Regardless, she doesn't really follow anyone. She works on her own terms and mostly does her own things. She's friends with some other hackers too and they work together from time to time, but otherwise, she acts alone.

-The classes and extracurricular activities she took in an effort to impress her family (judo, gimnastics, programming, drawing) have proven to be very useful with her new job, giving her a set of skills that she's honed for her not-so-legal endevours.

-She has her own motorbike, her favourite gift from Alfred that she treasures. She calls it "my baby", and has given it a few not very legal modifications to improve the design to her taste.

Personal info:

-She doesn't call Bruce "dad" or "father". It's always Bruce, or Mr Wayne if she feels particulally petty.

-She was banned from judo competitions after accidentally breaking her oponent's leg. In her defense, she had an awful day and the poor bastard decided it was a good idea to taunt her into hitting him. She claims she's gotten over it already (lies, she still gets pissy over it).

-She's been practically raised by Alfred, and they have the sweetest bond. He's the only person in the manor she respects, and wants to make him proud. That's why she does her best to hide her double life from him, knowing he would dissaprove.

-Funny enough, because Alfred is the same one who taught her how to shoot a gun and where to stab someone to render them helpless. The man is no fool, he knows he can't stop a teenager from doing dumb shit, but he can at least make sure she's prepared for the worst outcomes.

-She has the habit of moving around the manor like a monkey, climbing and jumping around like the proud gymnast she is. The manor is like a obstacle park for her. Why take the stairs when she can just jump off the rail and land gracefully on the ground? It's much faster.

-Alfred had to patch her up more than once from stunts gone wrong, but always encouraged her that "there's no victory without failure".

-She's grown up helping Alfred around the manor, slowly but surely taking his tasks from him and doing them herself so he can rest. She's worried about his high activity at his old age, fearing he might drop dead one day out of exhaustion.

-They share the house chores, and he calls her "his little helper", even though she's taller than him now. Lucia's heart melts when he calls her that, but pretends to complain with "she's not a kid anymore"

-She's fixated with the color red ever since her mom's death, specially with the kind of red that resembles blood stains. At the same time, she has severe claustrophobia.

-She hates the color green ever since Damian tried to kill her. It reminds her of his eyes.

-Speaking of it, she's either indifferent or polite with the others, but she hates Damian with passion. He gave her trauma, nightmares and a permanent scar on her neck that would never dissapear, among being an absolute bully whenever their paths cross. She avoids him entirely.

-Even thought she's stranged, she's still known as Bruce Wayne's daughter. She got kidnapped not much later after moving in to Wayne Manor by Penguin, whom she won over by being overly nice and polite with despite her circumnstances. Her mother taught her that bowing her head and be pleasant could save her life in the worst situations (pity it didn't save her)

-She was rescued quickly enough by Bruce, but he handled the ordeal as if it was an inconvenience rather than his daughter having been in a life-threatening situation.

-She's been kidnapped and attempted to more times over the years, each one cementing her belief that she had to save herself because no one else would.

-Her little brother, Marco, is a year younger than Damian, and has dyslexia, which is one of the reasons Lucia works so hard to provide him the best from a distance. She knows the educational system doesn't fit kids with special needs like him, specially if they're orphans.

-She's taken upon herself to be a mother for Marco, unconsciously seeking to cope with their mom's death by taking her place in his life. She visits him frecuently at the orphanage and pulls strings so he doesn't get adopted. It's selfish, she knows, but she can't stand the idea of another family getting him and losing contact with him.

-Being possessive with family runs in her blood.

-She adores him, but her relationship with the boy is also built on her feelings of neglect and the trauma of losing their mother. She holds unto him not only out of love, but because she feels he's the only true family she has. The only brother who loves her unconditionally and doesn't make her feel like shit.

-She's a parentified oldest daughter at its finest, used to act like an adult even at a young age. The only times she allows herself to be a girl her age is when she's alone with Alfred or with her best friends.

-She smokes and has some self-destructive tendencies, but crosses the line at getting drunk.

-She has discounts at the Iceberg Lounge whenever she goes. Gets along surprisingly well with Oswald Cobblepot, with him being somewhat fond of her since the kidnapping.

-Because of this, she has met a couple of villains already and even talked to them. Ivy and Harley are secretly scouting her for Siren potential, trying to see if she's worth it.

-All of them at some point have met her alter ego online. She has contacts everywhere.

-Marco's biological father is a pillar in both their lives since they were kids, and Lucia has a complex dynamic with the man. His identity is relevant to the plot.

-Out of all her "siblings", she likes Duke the most. He's the only one who's been friendly with her since the beginning and hasn't gotten bored of her, unlike Stephanie. They were close before, but after Lucia found out their secret identities, she kept her distance from him, much to his sadness.

-She doesn't mind Barbara and Cassandra. She's polite when she sees them and has no particular problem with their presence.

-She strongly dislikes Dick, Jason and Stephanie, and she doesn't have an opinion on Tim, beyond that he has assholes vibes.

-My Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne from this au are inspired by the ones from @solelifauna. If you want to get an idea, go check her works and you'll understand.

-Lucia knows all of their vigilante lives, but pretends she doesn't so to not give them a reason to bother her. Alfred is aware that she knows, since he was there when she found out, in an accidental way.

-Long story short, she snuck in the Batcave and saw all the stuff, including the uniforms. She had a mental breakdown right there and rushed to pack her stuff, determined to run away. She's a criminal, she doesn't want to share space with the people who hunt down those who break the law. Alfred caught her and managed to convince her to stay, agreeing that she would keep the secret and the family wouldn't have to know about this incident.

-Alfred thinks he reacted like that because she's afraid of being targeted by the Batfamily's enemies.

-In reality, she's afraid of being targeted by the Batfamily themselves.

@bunbunboysworld

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byhees · 11 months ago

Text

when you play with their hair.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 600 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship kissing petnames — more

a/n. as promised, third work of the day～ hope you enjoy ♡

heeseung would instantly relax under your touch; the way you gently fiddle with the soft locks, hand lightly brushing his bangs to the side to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead, has him melting— it almost feels like second nature for his eyes to flutter shut, his words slurring near the ends as he draws closer to sleep; would pepper your face with heaps of kisses to show his appreciation; offers to return the gesture soon after…

jay would find the gesture so comforting; would have already been lying by your side, head resting on your lap, eyelids gently fluttering close from exhaustion— the mere action of scratching the roots of his scalp, giving him an impromptu scalp massage, has him nuzzling closer to your embrace; “thank you, thank you, thank you, baby”, he’d mumble afterwards, sitting up to press a long kiss on your lips, lightly smiling into it in the process…

jake would immediately break into a smile; the sensation of your body warmth against his, paired with the gentle fiddling of his hair, are enough to elicit an adorable giggle from his end; finds it endearing when you purse your lips in concentration, bundling a few locks together to tie into a mini ponytail; definitely gives you a smooch on your lips to show his adoration…

sunghoon would sink into your touch in a mere second; the tranquil silence of the room, paired with the sensation of your hand gently carding through his locks, would be the exact definition of peaceful for him— the day’s concerns and stresses would dissipate into nothingness in that split moment, feeling as though it’d be just you and him in this world; can’t help but to slip in a small “i love you” afterwards, flashing a shy smile, cheeks flushed pink from pure endearment…

sunoo would feel so treasured; the way your eyes never shift away from him, the way you’re so wholly focused on fixing pretty hair clips onto his locks— they all make him feel so loved; winds up sitting as still as can be, mind concentrated on just how breathtaking you look, especially from such a close distance. “i love it”, he’d chime, fingers lightly brushing against the little clips, a pretty smile growing on his blush-painted face…

jungwon would find you so adorable; there’s a pretty twinkle in your eyes as you tenderly fiddle with his hair, raking your hand through the strands— would scoot closer to you to make it less straining on your arm; when you lean close to tie his hair up into little pigtails, gently biting your bottom lip in concentration, brows lightly furrowing, he can’t help but to purse his lips, muffling a soft giggle at how oddly serious and meticulous you’re being; would press sweet kisses all over your face afterwards, dimples making a pretty appearance; spends the remainder of the day with that hairstyle, because even though it’s a little wonky, in his words, “it’s a masterpiece made by my princess”…

riki would, surprisingly, be really flustered; had initially expected for you to pull a little prank on him, given how awkwardly you asked for him to lie down; doesn’t anticipate the sudden scalp massage you'd be giving— in an instant, he’d drop his composure, eyes staring back at you with slight puzzlement; “what’s wrong? do you not like it?”, and just before you’re able to pull your hand away, he’d quickly hold onto your wrist, gently guiding it back to his hair— “i didn’t say to stop”, he’d murmur, pouting a tad in the process; and you’d have to bite back a giggle, heart thumping from how endearing he looks…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons @kimsunoops networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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from-izzy · 4 months ago

Text

sip and learn | the boyz kim sunwoo

“Got you a morning drink,” rattling the ice inside the cylinder and putting it where his mark prettily shows. “Probably should put it on there. They say it’s good to ice your bruises.”

pairing » the boyz kim sunwoo x fem!reader

trope/au » situationship au, non-idol au

genre » mildly suggestive (as compared to this), a bit of fluff...?, sunwoo likes to tease the reader who is in denial :D, flirty sunwoo and reader who is not to resistant to it, whipped kim sunwoo

word count, estimated reading time » 2407, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » suggestive!!, dom! sunwoo (and flustered reader), kissing and making out, they're in public but no one is around, dirty/suggestive talking (allusions to s*x), sunwoo kind of pulls the reader to his lap and carries you, sunwoo giving you a drink through kissing you, marking (sunwoo to reader), pet name (baby girl, baby boy), swearing, dirty minded sunwoo (oop), sunwoo is physically bigger and taller, rapid proofread a couple of times

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist

...hm-

Finally.

It turns out that universities do care about some of their students’ health after all. After a gruelling non-stop six weeks' worth of content, you're finally excited to not only catch up on some of the work you don't manage to touch but also that you won't have to watch lectures that seem like carbon copies of your textbook. In addition to that, you also get the choice to stay indoors all week which is a dream for all overworked students.

Sitting in a slightly quiet area under the trees accompanied by your friend is one of the best ways to end the tiring six weeks. All is nice and cool as you let the wind brush against your skin, sighing at the temperature. Your friend follows you shortly after but disrupts the peace with a question.

The tip of her shoe hits yours, “So, how was the date?”

The implying tone from your relaxed best friend caused you to roll your eyes, “It wasn’t a date. It was just a hangout.”

“Oh yeah, I bet,” she agreed sarcastically. “How many times did you kiss him while you were at it?”

The information was about to spill out from your mouth without a second thought. You were so close to embarrassing yourself with the fact that you were not only all over Kim Sunwoo’s lips yesterday, but all around that annoyingly handsome face of his and slightly down his neck. The heat rises to your cheek but you play it cool by shrugging your shoulders, pushing last night’s events to the back of your head.

The way you responded only elicits an amused chuckle from your best friend. She knows you're avoiding the truth. “Stop pretending not to be in love with him,” she sighs. “Your denial is getting so damn embarrassing.”

You relaxed your eyelids close once more, focusing on nature instead with your palms behind your back to lean. “It's not embarrassing because I'm not even in denial about that loser.”

You allow yourself to ramble some more, listing points to prove to her that you're not in love with the man. Usually, your friend would give you unconvincing hums which you're now used to. But the lack of response from her made you uneasy, as even though you had your eyes closed, the image of her raised eyebrows and the corner of her lips slightly raised is clear in your mind.

That is the expression you're greeted with when you bring yourself back to reality. However, her eyes were nowhere near you, a mischievous smile growing bigger at the sight of a familiar person approaching you from behind. Your eye twitches, knowing exactly who it was. You dusted the sand and dirt remnants from your palm, ready to stand up to your feet when a force behind weights you back down.

You yelp slightly at the force, your now dirty palms again stopping you face planting to the Earth.

“Kim fucking Sunwoo!” You called out the man who secured his hold around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Get off me, you fucking stink.”

“Really?” The boy does the opposite, sitting down and spreading his legs beside your thighs, pulling you closer to his chest. “Last time I checked I smelled pretty good.”

He does. You're not going to admit that though.

“Yeah, maybe after spending time at a rubbish bin.”

Your friend couldn't help but snicker at that. She wonders if you would give the poor boy a break sometime but seeing you both like this, obviously love sick for each other, she chose to make this her everyday entertainment.

“Okay,” your friend collected her things. “I'll see you soon,” winking at you. “And you,” pointing at Sunwoo, “Please use protection.”

“Hey!”

“Will do!”

You whip your head back to Sunwoo’s sharp jawline, slapping his arm at the comment. When your friend was comfortably out of space, a finger traced along the front of your bra’s underband. The courageous touch in public made you yelp a little. Your reaction didn’t faze him at all because he predicted it all; you fold with even the smallest touch of him after all.

“Feeling sensitive, baby girl?” The airyness of his husky voice sent chills down your spine. It also sent your stomach doing flips and your hands stopped slapping him for a change.

“No,” you answer softly. Trying to push off is futile as you learnt from past events and so you let him win, taking a mental note to lecture him later.

“Baby girl…” the tip of his nose brushes along the underside of your jawline, shuddering at the light touch as he just ghosts over your slowly heating skin.

Though tight, your lips displayed a smile. From the corner of your eye, you know he’s enjoying the situation, “In front of everyone?” Turns out you couldn’t keep your question for later.

“There's literally no one here,” you felt his shoulders shrug. An arm stays secure around your waist, the other guiding your chin to face him. “You smell delicious,” the whisper hits the shell of your ear so gracefully that your gulp becomes audible.

Sunwoo doesn't bother hiding the fact that he's focused on your lips, licking his own as he struggles to keep himself from tasting you. While his index and thumb keep you still, his other fingers brush against your skin intricately. The smooth motions contrast his darkening orbs. You’re in fear that you will fold for him in public now.

You are not going to be defeated by Kim Sunwoo. Not when he made you fold for him hard yesterday.

But it’s unfortunate for you that he knows exactly what you’re thinking of.

Sunwoo turns your head away from your alluring lips as he has other plans for now. His supple lips land on the side of your neck and he starts to suck on your skin. You expected just a peck, especially with the setting, but it became clear to you that nothing mattered to him.

Whimpering moans slip out of your lips and Sunwoo smiles momentarily at the beginning of his work on the crook of your neck before going back in. At first, he’s disappointed that no one is staying for the show but then it gives him all the more reason to gape his lips and suck on your skin.

“Sunwoo-” You gasp out as your palm is back to giving him a physical reminder on his arm around your middle. “Fucking hell…”

He hums against your skin before pulling away, licking his lips at the subtle mark he left on you. Needless to say, you won’t be able to cover that up with your clothing. The lovesick boy doesn’t stop there when he directs your eyes back to lock his, sending you a message that makes your body slightly shudder. You weren’t sure what the gaze meant but all you knew was that it was the same look he gave after he would kiss you breathless; just like last night.

His hand retracts yet you don’t dare to break the eye contact. Knowing that he had an effect on you, Sunwoo maintained it, feeling slightly competitive about how you’re not backing down, not even looking at his plump lips. Sunwoo blindly reaches to the inside of his bag beside him, cluttering around until he finds the icy-cold cylinder that he bought for you earlier on.

“Got you a morning drink,” rattling the ice inside the cylinder and putting it where his mark prettily shows. “Probably should put it on there. They say it’s good to ice your bruises.”

The mention of a new mark made you lose the unspoken game as you used your front camera like a mirror. You didn’t even need to crane or tilt your neck too far to see what he was talking about and at the top corner of the screen, you could also see the start of a smirk growing on his face.

“Kim Sunwoo!” It’s so obvious, brighter than the sunlight above you. “I swear, Kim Sunwoo…” Glaring at the radiant man through your phone.

“Oh!” He exclaimed before snatching your phone. “You should take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Sunwoo kept his locking hold around your waist, positioning your phone closer to the sky. He takes a couple with varying angles and closeness, as well as how close his lips were to your heating skin. You jolt at the innocent kisses he left, leaving supple traces of his love and his breathy chuckle made you relax against his chest. “Now the two sides of your neck are matching.”

The image of last night flashes. The way Sunwoo cupped your cheeks, discarding his ice cream when he chose to lick the remnants of yours from your lips. The way he held the curve of your waist, pulling you closer to the point that you eventually sat on his strong, bulky thighs. The way he foreshadows the darker kiss mark on your neck when he moves his mouth across the side of your face, going off track with your jawline before rerouting to his main aim. The smacking of each other’s lips grew louder as the makeout session turned more intense. How his finger slowly lifted the skirt you were wearing, shuddering at the cold wind and the tiny circles that glided across your skin. Last night, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, was amazing.

You hope it was the same for him too.

The plastic seal clicks and is broken, pulling you back into reality. “Drink this,” he beams after chuckling at the way you look at him half-dazed. “I think you’ll like this.”

“Absolutely not,” swatting the drink away from you and keeping your ground. “You probably put shit in it.”

“Baby girl,” Sunwoo warns, voice lowering. Before you knew it, Sunwoo leans forward to slither an arm below the back of your knee, twirling you and resting your legs onto his thigh. This position made it easier for him to see you now that half your face was easily within his view. “It wasn’t a question,” he says as his palm holds a thigh, fingers spreading to increase his presence on your body. “You will like this.”

Another eyebrow raises and an inaudible shake of your head is what you give him.

His scoff resonates and hits you. You thought you won when he gulped the beverage himself and for a second, your muscles relaxed and a grin stretched across your lips. Your relief goes undetected by him because as soon as he feels the way your body reacts to him gulping his efforts for you, his palm that was once on your thigh slips down to one of your lower cheeks to remind you who has always had the upper hand between you both.

Your eyes widen at his gesture and to make things worse, Sunwoo leaves one last mouthful of the drink before he securely attaches his lips to yours. He angles his head down and tilts your neck up, something that he never does and the difference in routine alarms you. You end up understanding what he’s doing because with the betrayal of your lips parting when Sunwoo’s thumb nudges your chin down, with the help of gravity, he opens his mouth and empties the drink to you. He chases your lips at your surprise and holds you close to prevent you from pulling away. Some escapes from the corner of your lips that never fully touched his but he wipes it skillfully with the pad of his thumb, making a trail of the sweet tea, dripping from your jawline to where he kissed you earlier and letting your clothes suck up all of his glory. The way he cups your face, gently resting the apple of your cheek while his lips move slowly is all intimate to you, reaching out to his wrist for stability.

When his mouth is empty, Sunwoo pulls away and your neck relaxes. The look of surprise on your face is entertaining and his bangs fall attractively in front of his cunning eyes. After moving back a bit, he sees how your cheeks are not fully empty. “Swallow,” he orders, brushing his thumb on the sensitive spot of your neck. “Like every single time you’ve done for me, baby girl.” No one could see the images that played in your head but the flashes only ran faster and more intense with his raised eyebrow.

Despite your self-talk not to let him win, you obeyed.

You gulp at the way he phrases his words for you, complimenting you on something that is human nature. The flavoured drink runs down your throat smoothly, the back of your hand wiping any remnants on your lower face. It wasn’t long until you realised that yet again, Kim Sunwoo was right: you did like the beverage; and maybe something else that he did along with that. Your tongue pokes out between your lips, savouring the taste and you had to stop yourself from going on your toes to chase his lips for some more.

“Good,” he praises you. “Was that so hard, hm?”

“You’re insane, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Ah yes,” Sunwoo nods proudly. “Or you could just say you liked what I did.”

As if you would. “Ok now, let me go, you dick.”

The mention of the body part only made it worse for you and he didn’t bother masking his dirty idea to you. To the public, he looked like an abandoned puppy, kicked and forgotten on the street with his eyes wide open, begging for some love and care for anyone who passed by. His lower lips jutted out despite the scowl on your face.

“I’m just a boy…” His words trailing off towards the end. “Your baby boy…” The mention of the nickname you reserve only for him lands him a smack on his broad chest.

“You’re literally twen-”

“Just a boy,” he repeated before wiggling his eyebrows. “You need to take care of me,” his palm on your lower body moves once more, reminding you that he has never let you go. “Next time you should’ve just sipped the drink, but now?” Effortlessly, Sunwoo held your flustered figure in his arms while you naturally clung your arms around his neck as he raised and began walking towards his car. “You get to learn.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist

tags: @deoboyznet @k-labels @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @sanaxo-o @hursheys

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cosycafune · 8 months ago

Text

MAKE UP SEX ; EREN JAEGER.

13k words. a summary of this chapter: to pull from a familiar source is to shatter so many hearts. to discover an alternative is to pierce your soul in so many places, despite peace remaining all you yearn to equip. if you were loved enough, this intrusion wouldn't linger — that’s why you ran away with eren. ran away with him, even if it is betrayal.

a synopsis of acts: time skip, virginity loss, child au, alternative ending, angst, arguing, crying, running away, adjusting, ptsd and letting go. smut summary: unprotected sex, strip tease size difference, slight corruption kink, missionary, oral (f), reassurance, cumming, recklessness, crying, orgasms, first times, nervousness, cock warming, breeding kin(g)(k), breastmilk play, aftercare + potential more. read with caution + ignore errors. just an unpublished part of my book.

Hurriedly fuelling the unrest within your demeanour, whilst you run across the resort, concealing the tears within your heart, you discover the entirety of nothing.

The beach remains heavily deserted, with nothing to be picked up on, no matter how much your eyes shift. A tender sensation overtakes the entirety of you, embedding nervousness, doubt, and a horrid sensation within your heart.

Why are you running with such motivation?

Worry piercing your heart, you continue to sprint, your eyes clouded with tears whilst you enter a secluded area.

Upon entering the secluded area, you fail to intake the faulty trail, desperate to discover the entirety of Eren. For someone who placed so much distance between you, within this ample vacation, he sure did love vacant areas. You sure did worry for the man, yearning for the best for him.

If only he confessed, a few years ago.

Would life have been easier and more loving? He would have never slaughtered your heart as Armin did, placing you before any expectations anyone holds for him.

"Eren, this isn't funny now," Halting, intaking the environment, inching further within a flower-populated field, you clear the tears within your eyes.

"You said, we were going to run if everything went wrong," Sniffling frantically, unable to conceal your cries, you continue, "How did our lives get so fucked up when it only once was us?" You murmur to yourself, picking up on a silhouette that resembles Eren. A silhouette that remains standing, intaking the atmosphere.

Of course.

"Y/n, I know you're there," Inching closer to the entirety of his being, unable to conceal your spreading tears, you crumble upon the ground — your heart growing content that he is safe.

If he slaughtered himself, you would never forgive yourself.

"E-Eren," Observing the sight of him settling in front of you, concealing the puffiness of his eyes, he directs himself into planting in front of you. He maintains such a safe distance.

"Celine," A softness tints your tone, "She told me how the two of you broke up, along with just everything else." Sniffling, you break into a chuckle — grateful his presence remains.

"Yeah," He stills within his position, "I couldn't fake the fact that I just don't love her," Eren frowns, guilt completely enveloping his tender self. A tender self that completely crumbles towards the entirety of your rattled self.

"I'm glad you told her, instead of leading her on," You still with carefulness.

"And, why have you been excessively crying?" His viridian eyes can intake the entirety of your guilty self, unable to diminish the tenderness you hold.

"Just the usual," Eren's ineligibility stuns you, particularly with the fact that he holds subtle anger towards the fact that Armin continuously makes you cry.

Hell, he knew you were so afraid of Armin leaving, discovering someone else and leaving you within the pattern of two am. To leave you with Elara, his whims invested in the entirety of someone else.

"You deserve to not cry every day, to be loved in a way that only makes you happy," Eren's eyes twinkle with ethicality, "I truly just want you to be loved in a way that leaves you glowing," Eren adds on, his eyes adorned with the beauty of frustrated tears.

"You're a mother, and I've seen how so many things have affected the two of you," He halts, "Please, just never settle for a situation as broken as that," Eren glimpses at you with a beam, "To cry so disgustingly over a man who isn't willing to give you a lot of his time." A sigh slips from his parted lips.

"If you didn't have Elara, would you still be with him?" His words cause your eyes to widen with untimely shock, reevaluating so many unturned branches of life. You thought you were deserving of such suffering, based on the generational aspect of your family.

"Eren..." His words tinker with your resolve, selfishly bringing you to ponder on a life with him. A life where he remains meeting you within a flower shop, despite a thunderous storm, aiding you with the entirety of it all.

An impossible love story.

"I don't want to intrude, but knowing you, and the look on your face, you wouldn't stand for all he's put you through," Eren sighs with untimely sorrow, "I can sense the anger you try so hard to suppress, due to how he has treated you." His words of truth spark an unknowingness within you, controlling the air loosely bound to your lungs.

"I'm a mother, Eren," A sorrowful glance is gifted to him, "In this world, only my daughter matters." Your words are the only words you can offer him, despite being so heavily in love with Armin.

"I'm glad," Eren glances at you with softness, "But why did you try to find me?" He diverts his eyes away from your own, his movements so collected and so painfully calm.

"Because I care about you," Sniffling at your words, you couldn't help but place a hand on his shoulder — gifting him a gentle smile.

"I'm grateful that you do," Conflicted, Eren conceals his budding tears, unwilling to glimpse at the entirety of you. To glimpse at someone who happened to lighten yet dim his conclusive world.

"I'm going to be moving, Y/n," Your eyes grow wide with fear, "I refuse to jeopardise my mental health further, on something I can't control and don't want to fuck up." His words reek of truth, readying himself to spew tears he doesn't yearn to spew.

"If you want to come, meet me at two am," A part of you brings yourself to gasp, "As a send-off...or whatever you want to interpret it as." Eren's brows crease whilst your heart grows rapidly towards his words, your world threatening to grow out of such a collapsed state.

But you deserved to be loved so dearly.

"I-I have to think about leaving my life," A trickle of panic engulfs you, "I still love Armin, Elara and I don't know if I can do anything to break up my little family." He gifts you a tender grin, his heart swarmed with contentment — a part of him discovering an undeserving peace.

"What's your only wish?" Intaking the entirety of the flower-coated environment, you gift yourself a blooming flower — turning your body away from his own.

"That Armin was never associated with Annie," Still growing sombre at the thought, you bring the ivory flower to your face — mimicking the flowers he brought you before.

"What's your wish, Eren?" Unwilling to meet his gaze, you stir within the tragedy, your tone stiff with ungifted words. Words that completely conclude what could have occurred between the two of you.

"To be able to live happily," He informs you, walking further within the fields with you, his tears so effortlessly streaming down his face. Streaming down whilst the entirety of dawn is thrown upon the both of you.

"You say all this, but if you unrealistically had the chance to run away with me, during all my bad moments, what moment would you have chosen?" To somewhat fuel his unethical moral, you surface a moment where he feels as if he's needed the most — despite being able to manage so effortlessly on his own.

"Your baby shower," Eren's eyes display a layer of guilt, "I had never seen you so hurt and embarrassed in your life, crying and hyperventilating, all your fears in just one room." He adds on, smearing away his tears whilst you could only ready pathetic tears — your heart unwilling to still the steady thudding.

"No one else thought you were sad, except me," Softly, he continues a melodious row of words, "I've just wanted to stop every single tear you've ever spilt, to give you a life that has no heartbreak or sadness." Eren's fingers dance along the gentle grass, completely tinting you with a delicate smile.

Old times engulfed the both of you.

"Even with me pregnant?" Sighing at your words, he only raises a smile — his heart growing content towards your abrupt words.

"Yes. I'd never abandon someone so special to you," His fingers collect a beautiful amount of flowers, "You know me well enough." His finishing words are what set tears in your eyes, readying you to crumble upon the grass — to kiss away your fleeing sanity.

But Armin's your world.

"Do you remember my hospital visit?" Your lips part with guilt, "Before I was pregnant, deathly skinny and crying?" His eyes flutter at your words, the memory repressing him into such a sullen mental state.

"Yeah," He grows slightly distant, "When Armin wasn't picking up his phone, so I came straight to the hospital?" He grimaces at the thought, unsettled by how badly Armin had treated you.

—

Over a year ago, you remained in such a frail condition, desperate for the entirety of Armin to remain.

Set in a hospital bed, tears in your eyes, you are engulfed with vacancy. Your heart lies empty whilst your frail body is unable to shift, succumbing to the severity of your malnourishment. Something that caused you to freakishly collapse at work, your movements limited and unusually scarce.

Clinging to the sheets within the room, growing impatient towards the lack of Eren and Armin, you can't help but tiredly weep. Tiredly weep whilst you grow aware of how much weight you had shredded, based on worrying over the entirety of Annie and Armin. And within the moment, you couldn't help but spite the entirety of Armin — spite him for planting you in such an unethical predicament.

Growing aware of the distasteful silence, you could only frown at how alone you always remain — even within the most severe moments of your life. The sensation causes you to lightly break into an array of cries, yearning to crumble the entirety of the hospital bedding. Your heart is unable to handle the fact that your lover remains far from the hospital, unaware of the voice note that you sent him. A voice note that you send, one so welcoming to the idea of death.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Y/n, I got here as fast as I can!" Eren blurts out, rushing to your side, his eyes stained effortlessly with tears. He gifts you a gentle bellflower, an ample bag settled so effortlessly beside.

"E-Eren, I'm sorry for never being in a good enough condition to meet you," You still with guilt, "I'm never happy around you, and I'm sorry." He could only settle a chair beside you, his hand grasping upon your own, comforting a sobbing you.

"Come here, Eren," Despite your frail condition, you bring your arms around his neck, drawing him within your arms.

He could only falter at the contact, his lips quivering whilst he grows unable to fathom who crumbled the entirety of your life.

You used to be so happy, so carefree. Now, you were a lonesome soul, the concept of sadness incomprehensible.

"The next time you see me, I won't be like this," Grasping onto him further, his head settled against your concealed breasts, you could both only free such heinous cries. Cries that enhance the freedom you could only seek.

"I only want you to be there when we have happy moments," Gifting him a gentle smile, his head beneath your jaw, you run your fingers through his delicate hair — drawing in the tender scent.

"I don't want to subject you to the hardship you felt, when your whole family died," Softening at your words, Eren could only fall to your touch — his heart so gentle and content towards the entirety of it all.

"I just want you to be safe," Eren stills, "Seeing you wither is killing me. It hurts seeing you grow weak, so depressed and trying to submerge yourself with work." His fingers grow ivory with irritation, his demeanour only being calmed whilst you played with his hair.

"I don't want to lie to you, but I don't even think I'm safe with myself," Eren groans at your words, "A-And, lying to you will only make me feel worse." He listens to you huff, only for you to grow aware that he's stilled by the nature of fatigue.

"Who's he?" His tone alters with drowsiness, "I want to know who's making you suffer like this." Eren's whiny words of concern elicit a chuckle from you, particularly with the way he funnily sniffled — heightening your crumpled morale.

"Right now, it's just you and me," Unable to pick up on Eren's tone, you recognise that he had fallen asleep.

"We're both safe here," Sighing with contentment, you continue to beautifully coddle the entirety of him, feeling so safe with him remaining.

Eren had always been there. Even as a child, with you attaining cuts as a child, he would always blissfully patch them up.

Whenever someone would notice the severity of your home situation, plastering you upon the spot, he would only rush you to his home — sheltering you from the dreadful home life you hold. A home life that consisted of screaming, cast-aside objects, tears, broken furniture, and curling upon the ground.

And as a teen, you could only linger in his room, sharing sleepovers with him, unwilling to tear away from his frame.

But when his parents passed away, when he had only turned seventeen, you couldn't help but stay around his home, unwilling to pull from the entirety of his frame.

As his wails grew further contorted, you could only hold him in your arms — placing the covers upon the both of you. Placing the covers whilst you hold him contently. It's a memory you forever cherish.

—

A few years before the tragic hospital memory, you are settled upon Eren's desk chair — your arms folded whilst he grows distant from you. Grows distant whilst he attempts to intake the mere fact that his heart grows completely sombre towards the presence of his parents fading.

His neck-length hair is rather dishevelled, his viridian eyes low and completely overtaken with sullenness. His fingers carelessly weave with each other, his lips trembling as he intakes the photo of him with the entirety of his family.

Spinning within the chair, you grow aware of his lack of attentiveness — his eyes displaying not an ounce of emotion.

Softly, you can't help but bring yourself to inch closer to him — planting your comforting body in front of him.

You carefully glance down at him, capturing the entirety of his body within your arms. He could only hold you, his hands stretching across your back, his movements limited but heavily aware of your presence.

"I'm here, Eren," You glimpse at the doughnuts you had bought for him, "I'll never leave you to mourn so openly alone." He doesn't spew a single word, only bringing his cries to engulf your shirt. Well, a shirt that is his own, that remains offered to you by him.

"I just want to see them again," His words only cause you to inch closer and closer, pushing him upon the bed with you — swarming him within your arms.

This position is one you always held his troubled self within, coddling him until the morning is to rise. Until all the white flowers are to bloom. Until he rejoices within your arms, failing to depart from such safeness.

"They love you so damn much," You run your fingers through his dishevelled hair, "You're their pride and joy, along with Zeke." He calms at your mention of Zeke, clinging to you further. Clinging before you plant the bed sheets upon the both of you, gifting him a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I'll make sure that you are never able to feel a pain like this," Eren stills, "I love you too much to allow you to get hurt," His words plant a warmth within you, allowing you to register the feelings that you hold towards him.

"I also love you so much," You gift him a playful head kiss, "We'll forever be together." He chuckles at your beautiful words, playfully rolling with you — his figure so gentle and warming.

"I'm not leaving you with your thoughts, so I'm holding you until you fall asleep," Eren grins, happily falling into your touch, "If you feel unsafe physically or mentally, wake me up." You finish off, his movements growing so beautiful and content.

—

Being back within the face of reality, you remain plastered within the flowers, lying down with Eren. Your heart could only grow heavy with sullenness, unable to cope with the thought of him occupying a different destination — his presence no longer remaining for you to comfort.

He had only been able to attain fulfilled happiness through your assurance, in a way that allowed him to register that he'd forever have someone in his corner.

And if he didn't?

"I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy," Eren chuckles at your words, "To be abandoned by the one you love is not for the weak." You resist the urge to coddle him, to hold him for old-time sakes, to conceal the sullenness that completely corrodes your demeanour.

"I've seen that through you, and you still haven't even fully recovered through what he's put you through," Eren could only spew a truth you didn't yearn to hear, "He needs to learn to show you he values you, instead of making you cry to realise." His words cause you to curl into yourself, suppressing the fact that you had spent half of your time crying over Armin's actions.

"One day, the world will heal," You sniffle, "He's a broken man, but he still loves me so dearly." Eren shifts at your words, his heart growing content towards the admiration you express towards him.

"How long is it before he creates an extremely broken woman?" Eren admits an unrevealed truth, observing you shift with guilt at his words — realising how lowly you used to value yourself.

"I'm far past the mentally sane point, but I'm getting there," You admit to him.

Your heart grows gleeful towards his words, yet unable to shed the laughter you conceal.

Like old-time friends.

"But if we do run away, we'll leave almost everything behind," Swaying with the movement of the flowers, your eyes widen with tears — your fingers reaching to grasp onto his slightly distant self.

"Every death? Every relative? Everything we know?" Unable to dissipate your sullenness, yet untimely freedom, you direct your eyes towards such an intimate sight of the blissful flowers. Flowers that swayed at their own pace, nothing dictating their unpredictable fates.

"Everything," He murmurs, "Regardless, I'm leaving my old life behind." Eren's tone trembles with engulfing fear, towards his words, incapable of imagining a future deprived of you.

There isn't one.

"I can't live a life without you," Deprived of jolliness, he completely cascades his tears — his tone pliable, yet firm with unaltered disaster. Unapologetic he is, spewing a known truth.

"I can't live my life without you," Bringing your hand to wipe a single tear of his, your heart grows sombre towards his words. Words that hold a much deeper meaning than deciphered.

"I don't even want to cry, to ruin anything for you, but if you are willing to, meet me here at two am with Elara," He stills, "A time where you aren't alone." He finishes off, his movements swaying with the ethereal grass.

"Eren..." Bringing yourself to arise from the grass, you glimpse down at his laying self, "Thank you, I love you." You bring yourself to add on, permitting him to accustom to the shaping of the ground — yearning to be left solitary.

"I love you, too," Eren brings himself to say, observing the sight of a cloudy horizon in front of him — relishing the entirety of this authentic moment.

—

Journeying home, planted in front of the door, you carefully bring yourself to open it — your heart set upon your fated decision. Not a single ounce of you grows revealing towards your plans, inching into your home — being greeted with the mere sight of an attentive Armin.

His heart grows gentle towards the sight of you, his eyes flitting towards the beauty of your outfit.

A softness falsely coats your eyes, as you grow aware of all you are set to do.

"Armin, I love you," Your words collide with his heart, blissfully bringing him to softly bind his arms around the entirety of you. In a manner that allows you to forever memorise the sensation of his arms, free from the feeling of a completely corroded home.

A home that dwindles within the memories of the past.

"I love you, too, my love," Armin obliviously brings himself to say, so effortlessly feeding into the slight doubts you hold. Doubts that spring your heart to life, one where you are finally loved in a manner that puts you entirely first.

In a way where your lifestyle is secured by the likes of Eren and his connections, along with the safeness he guarantees, the length of the time you've known him, and how abiding your daughter is towards him.

Not a single cry, scream or piece of angst had ever been applied to the entirety of Eren, welcoming a cast-aside love. A casted aside love because of how desperate you grew to invest your time, your presence and safety into a situation that only stirs sadness within you, ptsd, despite the happy moments.

Your heart still aches towards the empty days he welcomed, the empty promises, the lack of care, the solitary hospital visits, and the moments where you doubted if he was ever going to love you.

Even on a few days, he grows guilt towards all he's ever done to you — his hold on you extra firm. Almost as if he's aware of the fact that someone is always forever there to hold you better, to love you better, to cuddle you better, to gift you a clean, sadness-free love. Someone like Eren.

Someone he has always been threatened by. Someone he knows is likely to completely corrode away the toxic bond he has formulated between you and himself.

A bond that lies upon lies and false promises, finally displayed love, so much uncertainty, lack of trust, and frequent panic attacks. Frequent panic attacks of you being displayed within the open. Within the open towards the whole world, something that was never once an option.

As you had never truly been prioritised.

"How did it go?" Armin questions, his heart holding a softness towards a dormant calm within you.

A dormant calm that fails to reveal its complexity, halting within a moment that's set to alter the entirety of four different lives.

"He didn't kill himself," A phrase he couldn't help but suppress slips from your lips, particularly with the way you are unable to lie around him. Unable to lie in a way that's able to deceive him, so you splatter the truth.

Yet, the cleanup around it is timely.

"I'm glad he didn't," Armin stills his tone, "I wouldn't want you losing someone so close to you, even if he does like you." His last words cause you to narrow your eyes. Knowing, just knowing, in a few hours, the entirety of this is likely to fade.

To fade all the turmoil that remains. To plant a new seed of peace.

"Don't start another argument," Your lips furrow with a sense of light disdain, "Especially with Elara here," A softness overtakes your demeanour, "When will you ever stop getting jealous, and realise you've always subjected me to way worse?" Armin's eyes widen to a degree you are unable to fathom, particularly as this is all that taints your crazed mind.

He broke you to a point that you grew to appreciate the emotions of a man who has always forever cared for you. Perhaps that's why Elara has grown so fond towards him? So fond because he would always comfort your sombreness, aiding your exhausting pregnancy. A pregnancy that contained so much heartbreak, you grew shocked towards the fact that Elara even survived.

"I'm sorry," His words welcome a frustration within you, allowing you to finally welcome your suppressed thoughts.

Why did you wait so long for someone who took two years to genuinely display you?

"He was the only one that truly took care of me, especially when you abandoned me," Your eyes inherit an ethical disdain, "He was never mean, cared more than you could bring yourself to, and always took me to the hospital, especially when I was struggling with eating, sleeping, doing nothing but working." Armin inherits guilt.

"I understand how you feel, I do, but I'm working on trying to not hurt you and his feelings, even if he does like me," Carefully walking towards the living room, you glimpse at a blanket upon the ground, "But one of you is only going to get hurt, I said what I said." Armin grows light towards your words, knowing that Eren's likely to grow hurt.

"Eren's going to get hurt," Armin ages into an uncomfortable state, "He's too kind to get hurt." His words completely collide with the whole nature of you, dismissing the entirety of your character.

"And I, me, was too nice to be treated like a side chick, hurt so badly mentally, that it fucked me up physically," His lips tremble with fear, "Don't paint me out as a bad person, knowing that you only view yourself as a saint," You inch closer to the kitchen, "Doing everything for the greater good. Because emotions are only temporary." Anger pitches into your demeanour.

You are trying to get yourself to hate him.

"You're such a fucking hero!" A psychotic chuckle slips from your lips, "Thinking about another man's emotions, knowing you abandoned mine." He grows wordless, his eyes completely analysing the tears you begin to spew.

"I just want peace," A nervousness overtakes you, "I'm going to sleep," You glimpse at him, intaking his characteristics, "You're better off helping my mum put together Elara's crib. I want space." He could only sullenly nod at your words, his eyes holding tears.

Tears you wish you could cave into. Yet, you knew this cycle would only bloom once more, inviting heartbreak, sombreness, solitary, and suicide to prosper. Just as your mother said.

"I'll see you and Elara tomorrow morning," Armin brings himself to bundle his fists, aware of how he messed up, "I love the two of you so fucking much," His eyes gleam with an expressive sadness, "I never want the two of you to not know that." He kneads his discomfort, attempting to plaster strength.

"I love you, too," Your eyes fail to greet his own, "But I just need space." Finishing off your words, you inch closer to your room with Elara within.

—

At the unsound hour of one a.m., you grow heavily cautious — cleverly packing a bag of all of Elara and your things. Though the clothes are a slither of yours, you only needed to prioritise the entirety of your daughter — especially with her asleep against your baby carrier.

But to aid your plan, you leave your phone behind — readying to conceal such an angst-filled lifestyle.

Eren always makes you feel safe.

"Ela-la, mummy loves you so much," Speaking to her slumbering self, you plaster your bags within your hands — grateful for the strength you wield.

To leave this fucked up place behind.

Ensuring she remains asleep, you softly plant a kiss upon her gentle head — carefully inching towards the front door. Aware of the fact that Armin lingers ten minutes away, with the presence of your mother, you grow comfortable with this factor. Comfortable as it ensures that not a single person can exhibit the fact that you are bound to flee from your present love.

Softly opening the front door, after carefully planting a note upon the blanket he leaves, you delicately bring yourself to remain outside — observing the sight of Eren's parked car.

His expression remains timeless towards the sight of you, a softness tinting his beautiful features. The sight of him elicits your past emotions, motioning for your heart to freely be able to swirl — at the mere sight of his welcoming self.

"Be careful," His mouthed words cause you to delicately carry you and Elara down the steps, relishing him positioning himself to help bring the both of you down — instinctively taking hold of your packed bags.

"Eren, Armin's coming soon, so we need to leave," A genuine smile, filled with hope and admiration, tints your lips, "Take us somewhere so beautiful, but very safe for me and my little girl." With Eren carefully opening the door, he brings himself to aid you with Elara — a car seat already placed within.

This very thing awoke her.

"Ela-la, mummy's got you," At your words, Elara softly babbles — her heart growing content towards the mere sight of Eren lingering.

Yet, she grows rather sullen towards the vacant presence of Armin. A presence she grows to instinctively miss.

"Daddy's planning to come visit you soon," Your fibs cause Elara to grow calm, settling into a fit of sleep.

A fit of sleep that welcomes you the opportunity to settle beside her, buckling the both of you up. Buckling you both up whilst a set of peace completely overtakes you, despite the anxiety of growing heavily caught by the entirety of Armin.

At least you left a note. A note that answers questions he already holds the answer to.

"Eren, start driving," Glee frames your healing bones, "Let's live a peaceful life in England, away from where we once were." Completely enthralled by your words, he gifts you a gleeful smile — his soft lips settled within the widest, boyish grin to exist.

"I thought you'd never ask," Eren begins to drive away from the place that once carried a large part of you, one that no longer frames a happiness you wish to attain. An impossible happiness with the entirety of Armin.

"When we get to the home I own, far from everyone else, I'll make sure that Elara will have a comfortable room to sleep in." Eren's words warm your gentle heart, gifting you the comfort of falling asleep beside your daughter.

Finally breaking a generational curse.

"I finally feel...mentally free," Your heart thuds with an discovered joy, "I've only ever felt mentally safe with you, there has never been the thought of anger," A smile caresses your carefree being, "We've always understood each other," You halt, attending to Elara, "I'm sorry that it took so long for the both of us to realise that we're meant for each other." You finish off, your heart tender and content.

"It took so long, but I'm glad we're finally together," Eren's eyes tint with a happiness he had never witnessed beforehand, "I'm never going to let anything harm you and Elara." His words further calm your mind, particularly whilst he further drives off — leaving behind a life the both of you once knew.

The two of you always knew that you were forever meant to be, even through conflicts.

—

A tender week and a half had skimmed by, and both you and Elara accustomed yourselves within Eren's large home. Never once had you adjusted to such safeness, not a single undisclosed issue rising.

The both of you grew unwilling towards rushing any aspect of the both of you, solely accustoming to the art of it all.

Whilst you grew sullen in your sleep, fearful towards Armin within your dreams, stealing Elara away from you, you fell into a fit of crying. A fit at two am.

But at each tender cry, whilst Eren aided you with Elara, he calmed the nerves you carried — his tender hugs keeping you going.

And even as the both of you left the airport, travelling on a private jet, he allowed himself to wholly take care of a wailing Elara. An Elara who cried towards the thought of her absent father, only to softly calm at a lullaby that Eren proclaimed towards her.

Fatherly things came to him with ease.

Currently, you remain upon your new-found couch, glimpsing at the sight of Eren — observing the entirety of him. Observing him holding Elara, carefully attending to her sleeping self.

It seems she recognises his good nature, so beautifully attending to the entirety of him — treating him almost as if he is Armin. Armin in a way that permits her to register that Armin's no longer set to be present in her life.

"You're a natural, Eren," Intaking the softness of your tone, along with the carefreeness of your demeanour, he offers you a gentle smile.

A gentle smile that amounts to the concept of kisses. The two of you hadn't kissed yet, gotten intimate, or even shared the same bed — he allowed things to specifically flow.

"I know we've run away and everything, but what do you expect from our future?" Eren's cheeks tint towards his words, almost as if he can't help but ultimately register that you finally flourish towards his path of love.

A path that only spews righteousness, familiarity and safeness.

Childhood friends to lovers.

"Just the three of us and peace," Your eyes grow towards him and a content Elara, "I don't want to cry anymore, nor feel like I'm not enough, even if I'm treated almost as if I am." Eren's ears grow attentive towards your words, feeding into his urge to freely engulf you within a gentle cuddle.

"I just want to cuddle you, just like the old times," Softly, Eren brings himself to carefully guide Elara towards you — settling upon the couch.

Elara could only meet his delicate eyes, carefully grasping onto his hair — babbling with friendliness.

"Got room for one more?" Eren grows gleeful at your words, staining Elara's eyes upon his own — treating her solely like his own.

She's now his daughter, indefinitely.

"Always got room for this sweetheart," His words cause Elara to blissfully babble within his hold, clinging onto him with firmness.

"We've got to build the crib," With a frown coating your lips, his expression inhabits sullenness towards the stress you hold.

"I've already built it, and got another one in your room," Your eyes greet his own, with mellow glee, "I didn't want you to be stressed or sad about it, so I did it whilst you and Elara slept." His words mean more than you can comprehend, prompting you to apply a smile upon his lips — planting an earnest kiss upon his supple cheek.

"Thank you, Eren," Being able to invest in the beauty of his presence solely comforted your being, enabling the idea of you exclusively being optimistic — not an unmarried ounce of turmoil wavering.

"Don't thank me for the bare minimum," His lips perk up with smite. His viridian eyes so lovingly drawn to your own, his lips no more than a tender inch away from your own.

"Shut up," Growing flustered beneath his gaze, you bring yourself to settle your head upon his chest — only for him to confidently pull back, tilting your chin.

"You look very beautiful, sunshine," His words welcome tears within your eyes, particularly with the mere fact that you were never something so welcomed in the morning. Nor had anyone ever once seen you worthy of being accompanied outside.

"Sunshine?" Coddling Elara further, you drift your lips closer to Eren's — the softness of them far from hesitant.

Carefully, you draw your lips closer, nervously grazing his top lip. Nervously grazing his lip before he tilted his head further, allowing his broad nose to brush up on your supple cheek.

"Yes," His lips so effortlessly take comfort upon your own, staining a familiar sensation upon your lips. A familiar sensation that solely welcomes the art of solace and reviving a dormant love.

The softness of his plush lips completely captures your own, drawing your eyes to remain so beautifully sealed — relishing the sparks that blossom from the kisses Eren plants upon your gentle lips. Kisses that you conceal your moans towards, your tears swirling, so in place with the moment.

So in place whilst the tender sun completely adorns many aspects of the both of you, tinting the moment with something so historically beautiful and gifting.

"Our second kiss," You structure your being around his starry eyes, incompetent of comprising your flustered beam, "That was magical." The words you emit endow him with the chance to raise another kiss from you, apprehending the totality of you — storing you with timely butterflies.

"You're so special," Eren draws his lips open, his finger staining his kissed-stained lips, "I'm devoted to you." His words capture your heart, applying the idea of you riddling your fingers upon his broad chest — aiding your slumbering daughter.

"Eren?" His fingers collide with your own, adjusting to the entirety of your manicured fingers.

"Yeah?" The lightness of his tone allows you to effortlessly shy away from his being, your heart swelling so feverishly towards his advances. Towards the nervous crimson hue that he carries upon his potent cheeks. Almost as if he's aware of what you are bound to say.

"Have you ever lost it to someone?" Nervously, his cheeks are effortlessly thundered upon by a crimson hue — he tilts his innocent gaze away.

Tilts his innocent gaze whilst you monitor the entirety of his movements, noticing that he has never been intimate with someone.

"No," Eren's lips thin with slight embarrassment, "I've never done it before." His words tint you with a beautiful amount of hope, one that warms your adjusting heart.

"When it's nighttime, and Elara's in her room, I'll come to yours," His eyes are glossed with a sense of completion, "I...I love you, Eren," He could tell your words hold meaning, especially with the way you cling to Elara — coddling her sleeping self.

She settled so much better, within this fulfilling environment.

—

Enveloped by a beautiful ivory lingerie set, your demeanour swarming with nervousness, you settle outside of Eren's room — your heart thudding recklessly towards the idea you've painted within your careless mind.

Your eyes sheepishly waver. Your fingers press against your untamed heart, plastering doubt within you — posing your body outside of his door.

Unable to proceed past the metaphorical boundaries, in complete nervousness, your breathing grows scarcely clustered outside of his door. Clustered in a manner as being so freely cherished, your heart grows content towards the thought of facing intimacy with Eren.

Your glee is one you are unable to contain. Contain to express your physique towards him, for the first time.

"I-I..." Failing to muster any coherent words, to slip towards the commotion on the other side, your fingers restlessly tint the ample French door.

"Y/n?" Listening to the spirit of his tone, your heart falls into an uproar, encouraging you to bring a brittle hand to your lips — softly growing discouraged.

"E-Eren?" Barely able to muster a coherent whisper, you grow property to the ground — completely yearning for him to encourage the first move.

"You can—" Eren softly parts his door, his eyes widening at the mere sight of you — along with your angelic lingerie completely compelling with the lunar moon.

The moonlight illuminates the ivory of your lingerie.

It causes his eyes to falter, to draw in every ounce of you. His lips so recklessly quiver. His toned cheeks are completely drowned by a longing crimson. His flitting eyes so dearly waver so effortlessly towards the beauty of your physique.

"Y-Y/n?" With Eren's fingers upon the door frame, his clothes clinging loosely upon him, he's unable to dismiss the thudding of his heart — the beauty of you irreplaceable.

"It's fine if—" Unrest overtaking you, your words grow shunned by his actions, welcoming him to carefully grasp hold of you.

Riddled with all your words, he grabs hold of your plush arms, planting your barely clothed self around his broad waist — his erection so prominent and rather fulfilling.

You know the length of him would be something that completely overrides Armin.

"You're so beautiful," With Eren's words aligning with him concealing his bedroom door, the moonlight tinting his you-smitten features, he guides the two of you upon an ample bed.

His careful hold upon you is featherlight, feverous and scandalous.

"Your face, it's something so beautiful," Enveloped by the entirety of enthralment, rather nervous towards the encounter and his words, you feel his bulgy erection nudge against your inner thighs — eliciting a small moan of nervousness.

"Let's take care of each other," Eren softly plants you upon the gentle bed, observing you sink so effortlessly within the bed, your body sprawled in front of the entirety of him.

You observe his eyes linger upon your features, his cheek tint failing to slip away from your eyes — his body towering over your lone state.

"Always," Gasping at the on-edge tension, you slightly puff your cheeks, so, so, so, exuberant at such an intimate moment.

An intimate moment that frames the blossoming love you've always held for Eren, completely burying it beneath a love you once held for Armin.

"I'm going to take off my shirt," At his words, a careless thud enters between your thighs — welcoming you the chance to bundle them, slightly throwing your head back at the gruffness of his enthralled tone.

"I-I want to see all of you," Biting back your tongue, growing so heavily flustered, you intake his fingers — pinching the edges of his grey shirt, slowly inching upwards.

"I'm fine with giving you all of me," Unable to conceal your grin, you intake his prominent v-line — only to intake the firmness of his revealing abs.

Innately, your eyes dart to meet the sight of his daring pecs, his sculpted shoulders, along with the beauty of each flex of his muscle.

He grew adamant, his smile rather taunting. Taunting whilst his stomach trail completely captures your eyes, leaving you yearning to wrap your lips around his unknown tip.

"I want all of you!" Slightly rolling your hips, you glimpse at him with a feverous need, unable to handle the mere sight of a shirtless him — his trousers not effortlessly close to being peeled down by the entirety of him.

"I'm forever yours," Eren announces while inching closer to a physically vacant you, observing your covet fingers draw to your pooling cunt.

He glimpses at the faint sight of your cunt, stifling back his struggled breaths — only to glimpse at your breasts. Breasts that hold a plumpness to them, startling his erection further.

"Show me that, Eren," Slipping your fingers towards the midsts of your breasts, he cranes in closer to you, softly sinking you further within the bed.

Ethereally, his dexterous fingers dart towards your supple cheek — his viridian eyes and his kiss-deprived lips so attentive towards the sight of you.

Naturally, he places his mesmerising face closer to your own, feeling your hands cling to the sides of his lithe cheeks.

He grows flushed at the sensation, drawing his tender lips upon your moon-filled ones — enchanting the entirety of his heart.

So delicately, his starry eyes mature further into a meaningful state, the silence enveloping you both — whilst your desperate lips so effortlessly collide.

Completion.

The sensation of his lips encapsulates the love you hold for him, welcoming you into further relishing the sensation of his broad nose upon the side of your cheeks.

His supple lips obey a feverishness, enveloping your heart.

Unable to draw away for breath, you sculpt your legs around his toned waist, moaning at each gentle kiss. Effortlessly filled with chemistry, his trained lips conduct themselves into leaving you gasping. To gasp whilst he slips his lips away from your own, planting his lips beneath your jaw — whilst your head remains tilted upwards.

Your heart grows so reckless at his heated kisses, resting against your Adam's apple. His grunts and groans, towards the kisses, welcome you to wrap your legs firmer around him — sinking into the time-consuming trails he plants.

"Eren!" Incapable of planting his name elsewhere, you feel his lips slip further down your Adam's apple — enhancing the lust that gathers hold of your desperate lips.

It causes your heart to swirl so effortlessly. The wholeness of it is encapsulated by the warmth, the prosperity of the softness of his lips — welcoming warm trails of gentle kisses.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" The carefulness of his tone settles a sense of comfort within your distorting bones, riddling you with a thudding that fails to dissipate.

That falls into the commotion that collides with your soul.

"More than anything," Swirling with integrity, you feel the sensation of his lips, so precisely slipping towards the sight of your breasts.

His eyes lick upon the sight with such grace, before his lips softly brush upon the supple surface above — a tender moan encouraging his lips further.

Falling into the cage of the blissful, melodious sounds of his favourable kisses and your harsh gasps, you feel his lips trickle down to the volume of your breasts. His lips collide with the roundness of them, the soft skin forgivably at his mercy.

Eren noticeably worships the gentle skin, your breasts swell from your noticeable breastfeeding.

Observing the barely prominent lingerie, he carefully conducts you into falling into his grasp — a single hand of his holding a part of your smaller back.

With his motion in place, he enables his ability to designate his other hand upon the bra clips, completely loosening the entirety of them.

The loosening sensation conducts a sense of fear within you, only for it to calm. To calm at each love-encouraged brush of his exemplary touch.

The sheer fabric remains no more than a shy cover of your supple breasts, only for Eren to bring his ample hand upon the fabric — carefully placing it upon the ground.

Inevitably, his pupils mature heavily wide towards the sight, the first piece of exposure thudding against his pained erection — encouraging your heart to thud rapidly.

Your spilt breasts are displayed, in front of his eyes. His lips grow parted with famish, his body so beautifully restraining itself, resisting the urge to use something that would completely crumple the sanity that your beautiful state upholds.

A beautiful state that grows positively unnerved towards the coveted nature he holds towards your breasts.

Naturally, Eren yearns to ravish them with a beautiful might — completely stirring the entirety of your sanity with his beautiful mouth.

"Your breast milk?" Eren questions with intrigue, his plush lips closing in on your breasts. His features so perfectly hover above your taut nipples, welcoming him to finally part his beautiful lips — wrapping his lips around your perfect-looking bud.

"S-Suck it," Whimpering relentlessly at his movements, you draw your hands to the back of his dishevelled hair — relishing the intensity of his gentle sucks.

His wholehearted sucks welcome you into releasing a slight yelp, your fingers harshly wrapping around his hair — particularly whilst he softly engulfs your breast milk.

"S-So much milk," His nature grows enveloped by this study, leading him to narrow his cheeks, swallowing every ounce — encouraged by the sweetness that tints it.

"Eren!" Stifling back your whims of sensitivity, your eyes flutter with a flustered state.

Giddily, your heart so dangerously thuds — glimpsing at his lips so casually upon your breast. Upon your breast whilst his eyes draw closed. Draw closed at the sound of your moans.

"Shit," He murmurs, pulling back with a harsh popping sound. His breathing is effortlessly reckless, his lips tainted with breast milk — the entirety of your breast swirling with the aftermath of his content sucking.

Eren softly licks his lips, running his tongue upon your leaking nipple, shifting his lips down. He feels you suck in your stomach, your laboured breaths completely at his mercy. Not a single ounce of him fails to infiltrate the pathway of your stomach, planting kisses upon such lithe skin.

His lips caress each squirming spot, hovering so close to an ample scar. A scar that completely overruns a portion of your stomach, leaving you rather self-conscious. Self-conscious of the planted acts of affection.

"I love you, sweetheart," His usage of sweetheart causes you to further shift his hair aside, growing nervous towards his lips casting lower and lower. Lower to the point his warm tongue completely occupied your lingerie that leans against the base of your cunt.

His lips brush upon the fabric, his heart so soft and erratic — tugging at the hems of your beautiful underwear.

"I love you, too," Aging into a smitten state, you draw your lips sealed — feeling his fingers entwine with the heart of the damp fabric. His fingers slowly bundle up the fabric, revealing the arousal that clings so mightily upon the lower midst of the fabric.

"I just want to fuck you so good," Eren whines out, observing the sight of your pooling cunt — a prettiness heavily associated with it.

The sight causes him to grow stunned at the exposure, so grateful for a future like this. A future he only ever saw himself so deeply enveloped within.

"I want you to cum inside of me," The words you spew are words that are completely drowned out the moment he completely rolls the entirety of your lingerie, planting it so effortlessly away from your legs.

"I don't mind that," Eren so desperately parts the suppleness of your legs, his fingers slipping toward s your sopping cunt — parting your completely drenched folds.

Effortlessly, Eren's features grow so heavily into a beautiful look of admiration, all before he welcomes himself into pushing his lips against the slight — his tongue settling so effortlessly upon the soppiness of your cunt.

His tender tongue runs along the frilliness of your folds, the flatness of his tongue introducing itself. The sensation causes you to sow your shaky fingers upon his tender tresses of hair, applying your head back at the tension he applies.

Lovingly, his lips unlawfully travel towards your clit, wrapping so innocently around them — eliciting a moan from you. A moan from your choppily breathing self, unable to steady your lips — an unethical orgasm face slipping upon your features.

"Eren!" Grinding your untamed hips upon his pleased features, he succumbs to his heavenly fate, "Just...like that!" Cooing at the softness of his worthy touch, your head so effortlessly tilts back — your frail heart pounding so accordingly.

"Ah! Mhm! Yes!" Carefully needing the severity of his hair, your whimpers completely encourage the movement of Eren's unfaltering tongue.

His tongue stretches across the severity of your parted folds, sucking so eagerly upon them — relishing the recoil. The recoil whilst you squirm in admiration, grasping, wheezing, writhing, your free hand blessing the heart of the thick bedding fabric.

"You taste so good," He murmurs, his vibrations jolting into your sensitive cunt.

They cause you to further place his head against the momentum of your hips, grasping onto his head to control such an intimate narrative.

"'M all yours!" Your eyes fall into a hive of indefinite tears, safeness overtakes you. Safeness whilst his tongue and lips occupy your thudding clit, painting out a beautiful sensation that moons the beauty of his movements.

Just the messy, intimate sounds of his careful slopping, lapping the entirety of your soppy cunt, further fuels the painful clutter within your haphazardous stomach. The way his lips remain concealed against your cunt, his expression jaded. Jaded so heavily whilst slickness overwhelmed the entirety of his lips and a tint of his jaw.

His broad nose is so gleefully buried within your exuberant pussy, his features gliding with the commandment of your clutching fingers — readied towards his beautiful, intimate acts.

His face remains as no more than a pleasure-inducing supplement for you. A beautiful, flustered face that's eyes flutter — so addicted to the soppiness of your perfect, him-crafted cunt. One that his coated lips are unable to pry from, efficiently stirring a beautiful pounding from his eventless cock.

"'Need more," At your words, Eren draws his nimble fingers towards the heart of your cunt — his fingers so beautifully prodding against the vulnerability of it.

This huge step is encouraged by you, specifically with the way you hint towards being so effortlessly met with a beautiful fullness — encouraging your body to give way for the entirety of him.

The entirety of him splitting you open, welcoming the unearthed heart of another.

Clearing the hesitation he holds towards his ample finger size, his fingers pick up on your raging slickness — softly applying pressure upon your entrance.

At the anticipation, you grow heavily delightful — feeling his fingers slower grow present against you. They begin to stretch out your cunt, welcoming a squeamish sensation to penetrate you — only for a gentle pleasure to envelop you. Envelop you whilst his fingers further make their way within you, splitting you open with each gasp.

Clutching further upon the dishevelled sheets, your head rolls back with such insufferable ease — the fullness of his fingers completely capturing the entirety of you. Capturing you in a way that welcomes many clustered moans, specifically with the manner his fingers embedded within you — granting you warmth.

A warmth that leaves your lips parted.

"So warm," Eren lets out, his lips discovering your clit once more, his fingers beginning to gift you teasing thrusts. Teasing thrusts that welcome you to jolt your hips with enthralment, your moans capturing his ears, tearing through the sanity he holds.

At the monitored scenery of a mewling you, your brows creased, your heart overtaken with love, your eyes clouded, and your mind seized of control, you could only free chaotic moans. Moans that completely stain Eren's erection with further pain, incapable of losing himself within you — for the first time.

Well, with anyone.

"'M gonna cum!" Incapable of handling the warmth of his fingers, pounding your squelching cunt, you grow a moaning mess, thrashing so vigorously — only the terms of a release freeing you from this pleasure-worthy role.

A pleasure-worthy role that completely belittles your cunt with beauty.

"Mhm," Eren flutters out, his fingers aligned with the pace of his clit sucking — warming you so effortlessly.

Just the thought of him, his heart so contagious with love towards you, thoroughly reassures you with a beaming comfort.

A comfort that leaves a sensation that is unable to be strayed away from, pounding in the same way as his fulfilling fingers — havocking within the haven of your stomach. Your stomach in a method that leaves you choppily moaning, your limbs so ethical — in response to his natural gloss of touch.

"I...love you," The thunderous moans that you release plague his ears, all whilst his fingers set a delicate pace within you.

A pace that works up the entirety of your heart, your chest rolling vigorously — his thrusting so beautifully in tune with your nature.

"I love you, too," The knowingness of his word return completely fuels the gentleness within your heart, encouraging you to further relish the sensation of his fingers.

The sensation tugs against the knot you hold within your stomach, tearing away at the sanity you hold.

"Eren!" The phenomenon bleeds further within your stomach, ethically whisking the tension elsewhere — the tension of finishing on his warm tongue.

The pressure encourages you to attempt to warn the entirety of him, only for him to grow continually — grasping onto your thrashing hips.

He holds you with an ethical closeness, his fingers completely embedded within the entirety of your lithesome hips.

The skin grows tamed beneath his touch, unable to shy away — completely submissive to the entirety of him.

"'M gonna finish!" Unravelling such a gentle sensation within you, you throw your head back, your tears so beautifully natural — streaming down your face. Streaming down your features with lulling ease.

With an ease that causes your heart to swirl with peace, an ounce of recklessness overtakes you.

"So good!" Freeing the pent-up sensation, you feel the entirety of it settle upon his tongue — so beautifully applied to his warm tongue. His fingers carefully thrust once more, all before he welcomes a moan from your gentle lips.

At your abruptness, you gasp with a beautifulness, one that completely twirls his stomach with glee. Twirls his stomach whilst he pulls his ample fingers out of you, his cum-glossed fingers and lips, so effortlessly combined.

His viridian eyes fail to waver, intaking the effortlessly breathily sight of you — panting so choppily.

Your lips fail to rejoice, hinting towards the tiredness you have accumulated. From your nervousness, from your joy, from the heart of such an elegant experience.

"I'm...sorry," Eren's viridian eyes widen towards your apologetic words, whilst his vast fingers swirl within his mouth — the sensation something he can't help but relish. But relish whilst your heart grows heavily fond towards the entirety of him, your tears of nervousness helping to aid such a large encounter.

"Don't apologise," Eren inches closer to the entirety of you, his body so attentive towards the shape of your emotions — being sure to puzzle himself in a nature that gifts you comfort.

"You've done so well," His body beautifully cages you, his forehead so set upon your own. Innately welcoming the heart of your emotions and his diligent ones.

"What if it's not enough for you?" Your words cause his worrisome expression to further carve into a state of sadness, his cheeks being grasped upon by the entirety of you.

"You've always been more than enough for me," Eren's breathing hitches so freely, his love so unwavering, "Being with you is the best thing that could have ever happened to me," You listen to him speak of you with such pride, "Everything you do is enough for me to smile, to feel warm, to be in love." His hearty words elicit further tears, only for them to be replaced with gentle kisses.

"Thank you, Eren," Planting a gentle kiss upon his lips, you smear your nose upon his own — your forehead so beautifully upon his own.

In a manner that welcomes you both to relish the sound of the swaying trees and the gentleness of the environment, along with him enabling your emotions — in a way that allows you to also validate him.

"And, am I enough for you?" He teases you back, his closeness igniting a soft chuckle from you — welcoming the beauty of the two of you.

The two of you have always been like this, so beautifully close, along with being so in tune with one another.

"You're more than enough for me," Your fingers tint his cheek further, slightly sinking into the supple skin — observing the crimson hue bloom so effortlessly.

Effortlessly, he cranes his head further towards you — his smitten heart completely enveloping your heart.

He is everything.

"Good," Eren's heart grows fathomable happy towards your words, permitting your heart to swirl so freely. To pierce your heart with the beauty of such known words.

"Eren, I want you to..." Growing embarrassed at your words, Eren could only console you with a beautifulness.

Thrilled, his roaring heart develops into an energetic state towards your words —leaving him to smear gentle kisses upon your lips.

He captures every lone thought you hold.

"I want to give you head, though," Your words cause him to merely smile down at you, his nose crinkling with love — painting him out so gently.

"Not until we have sex," His gentle announcement enables the realism of his words to channel the beauty of the situation, allowing the realness of it all to grow so beautifully known.

"Trousers down, Eren," Pulling away from the entirety of you, he brings himself to exhibit a clear sight of him — his fingers tinting the looseness of the hem of his nightwear.

"Anything for you," Intaking the softness of his words, he brings himself to carefully slip his trousers down.

Carelessly, flustered by the attention you gift him, Eren prospers so egotistically.

He remains flaunting the entirety of his taut muscles, his prominent erection, and the rare beauty of his toned legs — subtle bristles of hair tinting the delicate region.

"Eren..." Your lips equip shock.

Hazy, you observe the mere sight of a nervous him — his precum-stained underwear tinting your adrenaline-enhanced being.

Eren's eyes shift away with nervousness, leaving you aflame with such admiration and respect — so delicately encircled by the sight of his beautifully whittled self.

He honed his angelic traits; his movements so mesmerisingly constructed.

"Don't get nervous now, you're almost there," Smiling at the beauty of his crimson cheeks, you draw your cheeks into a puffy state — basking in the beauty of his unnerved self.

"You're making me nervous," Blooming with a heavenly smile, you intake the sight of Eren — tugging at his navy boxers.

Eren lingers, slightly hesitant before he drags the fabric down — entitling you additional access to his tumultuous v-line.

"And you're making me more nervous, especially with how big you're looking," Eren tilts his gaze with trepidation, his stares growing exceptionally soft.

"I'm apologising for my size," Eren's sincere words cause you to smear your thighs together, watchful towards the scenery of his teasing movements. Movements that work up a temperate gutsiness within you.

"I'll handle it," As your words tumble, at mercy within his pounding ears, he allows himself to finally release his grip on his boxers — revealing his ample size.

A size that causes your brows to crease with slight worry, observant of each twitching vein, his neatly trimmed pubs — along with his beautifully tanned tip.

He's big.

"I'll be there, every step of the way," His tone welcomes a reckless emotion within you, particularly whilst he inches closer, his ample size completely the only thing that controls the emotions you hold.

It causes you to seize hold of his bedsheets, your lips growing distraught with excitement.

"Spoil me," Eren takes your words into account, his body looming over the entirety of you. His demeanour welcomes you into carelessly laying down, the entirety of you so breathlessly beautiful — your features encapsulating the entirety of him.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Softly, Eren's words console any nerves you hold — particularly whilst he spreads a searing kiss upon your lips.

His eyes so effortlessly hold your own, despite the both of your nudity so eagerly on display.

A few years ago, this wouldn't have been possible.

"When have I never been ready for you?" Shifting his lips away from your own, he slightly contorts the entirety of his body —bringing himself to part your nervous legs.

Star-filled, he glimpses at the sight of your pooling cunt. Eren's breaths are so beautifully ragged at the sight.

His only goal is to completely unravel you towards the art of pleasure.

"That's for you to decide," Heavenly moonlight adorns streaks of your goddess-enhanced body; you feel him assure you that your body will be heavily taken care of.

A temple that his heart forever hopes to positively polish, to aid you with the budding commotion within the nature of your life.

"I'm all yours, Eren," So delicately emitting your words, you take note of the designation of his hand, so confidently palming his girth dick.

The sight of it causing your cunt to beat so wholeheartedly. It craves the entirety of him, yet he lingers so close yet so effortlessly far away.

"I know you are," Carefully conducting his movements, he wraps your nimble legs around his toned waist — his perturbation so inevitable.

"Take your time," Slightly gasping at the feeling of his broad tip, tinting the pattern of your folds — softly sinking behind the soppiness of your cunt — he intakes your every motion.

"We'll have many more moments like this," Gasping so effortlessly, at the pressure he emits, you so delicately gesture for him to split the entirety of you further open — welcoming a fullness.

Your brows twitching at the beautiful feeling, your lips splaying open with recklessness, your head throwing so cloudily back, you feel the sensation of his largeness.

Eren's largeness completely breaks the sexual barriers you were once unable to penetrate.

The sensation elicits an array of moans, whimpers, and lustful words from the both of you — the warmth and fullness pairing so effortlessly.

As he further penetrates your wailing cunt, you are unable to conceal the thunderous commotion your stomach creates, your breathing choppy at the breathless fullness.

Only half of him lodges your cunt, with breathless moans from him, his panting, his whining and whimpering effortlessly caressing him.

The urge to just fill you with his cum fails to clear from his mind, specifically as this sensation is one that completely conceals any sanity the both of you hold.

"Eren!" Feeling him lower his body, to reign the slot beside your neck, he plants his head within the area — softly bucking his hips further.

Safely, he feels the urge to slightly collapse into the safeness of the feeling — his limps yearning to crumble into the sensation of your exuberant cunt. One that stretches so beautifully around him, thudding towards the entirety of your clenching — the soppiness of your arousal pooling against his thick cock.

"Y/n!" Muffling the entirety of your name, he sports open lips, the softness of them tinting your neck. Tinting your neck whilst he adjusts his cock structure towards whenever you yearn to enlist his pounding within your mind.

"Tell me when you are ready," Gulping at the thickness, the closeness, and the safety of him, you grow warm at the fullness of his pulsating dick — especially it resting so safely within your clutching cunt.

"I'm ready," Eren softly kisses your supple neck; his lips momentarily brush upon the curve of your jaw.

"Eren, don't forget," Emotions envelop the conversation, "This is your first time, so I'm going to also love you all over." With your words known to his you-infested ears, he brings himself to carefully pull the entirety of him out of you — abruptly slotting himself inside of your fluttering cunt.

"Eren!" Incapable of intaking the sensation of his dick, you begin to freely moan. Moan at the feeling of him entrusting a pace upon you, his whimpers swarming your ears.

Your heart grows juicy with such ever-growing love, encouraging your eyes to grow lidded — the warmth within your cunt wounding your sanity so deeply.

"Ah! So deep! Yes! Yes!" Feeling his hips gather an athletic momentum, you release a sharp gasp.

Safely, the feeling of him just growing deeper inside of you, at each love-encrusted thrust, warms your abdomen with a pleasurably sore sensation.

"You're so...fucking warm!" Eren cloudily murmurs within your ear, his lips quivering upon the curve of your neck — his hips bucking into your cunt.

You age into a frenzied state, struggling to straighten out your choppy breaths.

His hips collide so beautifully with your cunt, packing it effortlessly with an added fullness — completely winding you of your breathing.

Naturally, you beautifully squirm against the sensation, your lips sculpted into a permanent 'o'. Pathetically, your clustered sounds remain unable to be formed into a coherent word — along with his own.

His brunette tresses of hair completely bury your features with the sensation of him. Down to his gentle scent, his beautiful notions, and his thick dick, nudged between your moulding hips.

His thrusts completely fill you, at each turn. They leave your brows strained, your neck thrown further back, your eyes completely rolled back, your drool so embarrassingly slipping from your lips.

"'Want you... to use me! Fill me!" Whining at the magical thrusts he stuffs you with, you let out a few half breaths, the overwhelming sensation of his cock unravelling every content comment you make.

Your comments hint at your desperation, unable to handle how he had always been so great at everything he did — his intimate gestures completely enveloping your sanity.

"Get me pregnant!" Eren's breathing falters at your words, his thrusts growing rather harsh — bubbling a drunken feeling within you.

The macaroni-imitating sounds, the squelching of your cunt, and the lewdness of his and your moans — completely grow dismissed by your ears.

The sensation is the only thing your mind can focus on.

"Fuck! Don't...tempt me!" His softened whimpers, his gruff mewls of focus, completely allow his words to flow.

They flow with randomness whilst he swirls your cunt with a puffiness, his pounding creating an insufferable warmth — leaving your head to sway side to side. To sway, incapable of handling the largeness of his dick, his pounding, along with the thickness of him so prominent within your stomach.

"Hgh! Too warm!" You weep out, your body too overly warm, attempting to pry away such an overstimulating sensation.

However, you wrap your legs further around Eren's lower back — so desperate to keep his beautiful pounding afloat.

Not once had he wavered, his dick still so effortlessly fucking you so whorishly — dissipating the sense of sanity you hold.

"You're...doing so well, sweetheart," He gruffly let out, his arms now wrapping around your head, his low eyes focusing on the entirety of your cloudy expression.

He observes the horny smile that captures your lips, your eyes barely meeting his own, fuelling the arousal you felt.

"You're...so...ah!" Moaning at the entirety of his harsh thrusts, completely spreading tingles upon you, you grow starry with pleasure.

Your limbs grow rather erratic with the unregistered recklessness, your moans growing unpredictable, ragged, and increasingly vociferous.

Fittingly, your mind grows belonging to someone else — your awareness of the situation narrowing down to this building-up sensation within you.

One that leaves you letting out cries.

"That's...it!" With reality blurred, you grow heavily focused on the planted feeling.

Every fibre of your words is slurred, your boisterous moans being swallowed by the sensation of Eren's lips. Your eyes roll back with ease, the tingly sensation welcoming the pressure to roughly slip from your cunt.

You cry out at the freeing sensation, your limbs growing numb — a silence washing over the entirety of you.

Lazily, you cling to the entirety of a pounding Eren, his coveted pace increasing the sensitivity within you — attacking your love spot.

A spot that completely stole away at the air in your lungs, particularly whilst you are gaining awareness of what occurred — your panting growing to worry his withering state.

He grows rather tired, but a fitting sensation enveloped the entirety of him.

"An...orgasm," The tiredness you hold is completely sensed by him, welcoming him to wholly brand your features with intimacy-enhanced kisses. Kisses that are barely reciprocated by you, particularly with the way you are still so out of it — unable to repair yourself from the orgasm and his continuous pounding.

One you didn't want to stop.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Eren's eyes widen with swiftness, only before growing low once more, the entirety of his body inhabiting a full sensation.

A tightness engulfs his lower half, placing a heaviness to engorge his being.

His sweat-enhance brows swell with intensity, his hips growing so effortlessly rapid, stealing off-guard moans from you. His pants grow so contorted with a rapidness, his eyes welling with tears, spilling upon the entirety of your tear-endured features.

Your parted lips fail to close, especially with another lingering tight sensation. The unbearable sensation leaves him barely coherent, his closeness being encouraged by a completely overwhelmed you.

Your ring of ivory cum coats his cock, beating against the entrance of your pussy. Cream bubbles form within the aflame area, all whilst he continues to treat the puffiness of your cunt — staining it further with the sensation of his hips.

He momentarily stills his hips before taking long thrusts, burying himself to a selfish angle — straining your overstimulated body.

A proud smile overtakes your lips, particularly whilst he glimpses down at you, his hips failing to unravel their franticness.

Letting out an animalistic growl, Eren huffs and puffs, carelessly bucking his lips. His movements are failing to falter, particularly with the way the firmness completely conceals the entirety of his comfort.

His pounding completely leaves you dumb-founded, your expression so whorishly displayed, your never-ending drool so prominent to his viridian eyes. He fails to fully acknowledge the moment, fucking you so deep, holding this deepness — his thick balls slapping against the bottom of your overworked cunt.

He continues to pound so harshly, approving of his lips to vigorously shake — whenever he meets his deepest position.

None of this harmed your being, it only inched you into a series of erratic moans, whimpers, cries, and whines. He could see the pleasurable tears in your glassy eyes, your jaded smile so effortlessly prominent.

The sensation of his engorged lower half falls into a rhythmic twitching, one that fails to find a controlled movement.

His thrusts grow pleasurably rough, his grunting and ample moans completely enveloping his being.

Inherently, his glistening sweat meets his warm forehead. Recklessly, the ample bed trembles so rapidly, the two of you so breathlessly encompassed within the moment.

Feeling the sensation grow so corrupt within him, he pulls back and thrusts his deepest within you, filling you with every inch of his girthy dick. Your stomach churns at the sensation, only before he gifts your barely coherent ears a strained whine, a pulsing sensation entering his cock.

The feeling of his cock twitching within you surrounds your being; a delectable hardness enfolds your desperation.

A series of your groans, whimpers and moans capture the essence of his ears, only before the rapid pulsating grows swapped out with an intensity.

An intensity that resembles a firm shot. A firm shot that causes you to jolt, aware of his sensation of finishing inside of you.

"Ah! Fuck!" Eren beautifully whines out, his features scrunching whilst he views your parted lips — his lips in sync with the motion of your own.

"Y/n..." Eren's mutter causes you to feel a second sentiment within you, another spurt of cum completely overwhelming your soppy cunt.

Multiple substances slowly begin to drip, particularly with the way he collapses against you — redirecting a singular hand to slip his ample dick from your cunt.

The sensation welcomes a wet sound to infiltrate the environment, only for your cunt to twitch on the entirety of nothing — a lonesome sentiment infiltrating your being.

A tender sadness envelopes you, bringing you to relish the sensation of Eren — dressing his arms around a weeping you. One who begins to cry in the aftermath of intimacy, just as you invariably did.

In fear of being left unattended after intimacy.

"You've done so well, and I love you so much," Eren alters the positioning of the two of you, his body coddling the entirety of your state.

The cries you release dissipate the fact that his thick cum continues to leak out of you, staining the soft sheets you are both positioned upon.

"You've also done so well," Your lips completely enclose the entirety of Eren's, your fingers threading through his hair —despite him safely holding you. Safely planting his hand upon your plush ass.

"Please, just don't leave me," Your eyes well with tears, colliding with an experience you hold, "I just don't want to be left alone after sex." The desperation you spew causes Eren to hold you closer, his heart aching at the irreversible damage Armin had mentally planted upon you — leaving you to fear the entirety of every intimate situation you hold.

Eren has seen the aftermath of what Armin had put you through. Too many times. He wasn't going to lose you, this time.

"You're mine," Eren kisses the top of your head, "You, me and Elara are a family," His words warm your heart ferociously, welcoming your heart towards his genuine words.

"Thank you, Eren," Making sure to also comfort his state, you draw your lips upon his own — so grateful that your life is set to flourish with your best friend.

"Let me get us cleaned up," His carefree nature completely seals over the fears you hold towards your future, your heart growing so calm and set upon the beauty of this budding relationship.

—

299 notes · View notes

smileysuh · 2 years ago

Text

Big Bear & Bee

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You swallow thickly, leaning back against Johnny while you gain your courage. You know he’s not the type to force anything on you, and something tells you that if you don’t make this first move, you might miss your chance. Turning in his arms, you look up into the bear hybrid's chocolate brown eyes. Then you’re kissing him, putting all the passion that’s been brewing into the meeting of your lips. You thread your fingers through his soft hair, eager to get close to him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

tw/cw. protected sex, multiple positions (girl on top/missionary), pussy eating, praise, dirty talk, bear hybrid x human, fingering, overstim, size kink, big dick!Johnny, pussy stretching, slow burn, mentions of baby/child fever, sex while she wears a dress, etc... I pet names: (hers) bee, princess, gorgeous. (his) John, Big Bear.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 15.9k

🍭 aus. hybrid, bear/uncle!Johnny, human/honey shop worker!y/n, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. huge thank you to @sehunniepot for helping me through writing this and being my beta reader- Nikki is truly one of my best friends, and if you haven't already checked out her writing, she's got John fics for days - her Olympian Johnny is one of my favorite fics ever 💕

As a bear hybrid, Johnny has been in many honey shops in his life. He’s frequented hole-in-the-wall mama and papa honey selling places. He’s visited corporate brand locations so big and full of different types of honey that they made his head spin. He’s even given a chance to side of the road, farm fresh honey sellers.

Even with all of this experience, there’s only one place that he’s truly come to love, and that’s Queen B’s Honey Company.

Nestled between an ice cream parlour and a fifties style salon on an old street on the side of town, near the farming district, Queen B’s has a certain charm that’s always scratched Johnny’s honey itch just right.

With soft cream coloured walls, and touches of old wood that line the space in shelves and fill the room with various display tables, the store is somewhere between scandi and revitalized farm aesthetic, a style that Johnny adores.

Housing a wide array of honey, in sticks, jars, canisters and tubs, the honey shop has everything a bear like John could ever need, and that’s not even including all the hand made pottery that sits on the top shelves. Plants are speckled here and there, adding a floral scent to the sweetness in the air that’s inherent to the Queen B establishment.

There’s art too, all somehow relating to honey, and everywhere you look, there’s a recurring theme of bees and bears.

It’s a tale as old as time - the bears and the bees - and one that has always immediately brought the hybrid an indescribable sense of peace.

Even with all of this, however, Johnny’s favourite part about the store has to be the kind workers that calmly bustle around, always quick to lend a hand or ask how his day is going. Specifically, you draw Johnny in like no amount of honey ever could, and he’s pleased to arrive at the store once a week to often find you working.

Johnny might be a big shot club owner and entrepreneur by night, but by day - especially in the comfort of Queen B’s - Johnny sees himself as more of a calm dude just trying to support a local business. Despite his attraction to you, he’d hate to put himself out there and make you uncomfortable - at your workplace no less - so in the months he’s been frequenting your establishment, your short interactions have only ever pertained to honey, and he can live with that.

The front bell chimes softly as Johnny enters Queen B’s, and Johnny meets your smile with a grin of his own. “Good morning!” you call out, a common greeting that still somehow makes his heart beat loudly in his chest.

“Hi,” he nods, breaking your gaze to inspect the front display, where all your store’s new products are laid out like candy in a candy shop for the honey-loving bear hybrid.

He tries to be nonchalant, but as the only person in the store, Johnny knows he’s captured your attention. There are days when he’s one of a handful, and you often take care of those who’ve come before him, only to head his way and ask if there’s anything you can help him find. Today, he has all your attention, and it takes effort for him not to watch you approach.

There’s something about the soft yellow apron that you always wear, or the yellow scrunchies and ribbons in your hair. Your white t-shirt and blue jean ensemble under your work apron is just as much a part of the beautiful colour scheme, and there’s no three colours in the world that Johnny likes together more than cream, honey, and denim blue, especially on you.

“We’ve got new honey sticks,” you tell him, as you come to join him by the front display. He loves how you know what he normally buys, that you remember him so well.

“I see that,” he nods, sneaking a glance up at you. “Are they any good?”

You nod. “Very good, at least, I think so.” You begin to tell him where the honey is sourced - from a local apiary - and the way that the honey sticks are naturally flavoured with the seasonal blackberries, raspberries and other such ingredients that grow in the surrounding area, all organic of course.

Johnny listens, although half of his mind is much more pleasantly occupied watching your lips. The way you speak has always enchanted the bear hybrid, and he’s more than happy to watch you work hard to give him all the information you can.

“Sounds good,” Johnny says when you’re done. “I might just have to get five of each.”

“I can prepare that for you if you’d like to continue looking around,” you smile. “We also restocked the blackberry honey jars from Overgrove Apiary. I know we were out last week and you got something else, so…well, I called our merchandiser over there and got a new batch just yesterday.”

You're a woman after his own heart…and maybe also his money, but Johnny can never tell if your interest in him is beyond that of a professional.

“Thanks, I really appreciate that,” Johnny tells you honestly, watching you begin to collect five of each honey stick into a simple brown paper bag for him.

“Don’t mention it,” you say softly. “Anything for a regular.”

He wonders again if that’s all he is to you, a regular, and Johnny finds himself putting his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, fiddling with the golden ring on his thumb. “It’s nice to be taken care of,” he says finally.

Your eyes meet, and you’re quick to look away, but the soft smile on your face is enough to make Johnny’s heart race again.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today? Or just the honey sticks and blackberry jar?”

“I think this is good for now,” he tells you, following when you immediately turn to head to the till.

It’s a nice silence as he watches you check everything through the system, and when you give him the total, he pulls out his soft, brown leather wallet from his back pocket. He always pays in cash, and despite the fact that he never asks for change, opting to give you a tip that goes into the tip jar, you still ask if he’d like the coins back.

It’s one of Johnny’s joys of the week to tell you, “keep the change,” as he reaches for his brown paper bag of goodies.

“Can I-” your voice draws his eyes, and he wonders what you might ask him. This is not part of your normal interactions, and he holds his breath waiting to see what might come of it. “Never mind, it’s probably a stupid question.”

“Good thing I like stupid questions,” he assures you, giving you the space to continue.

“I was just-” you take a deep breath. “I’ve looked into certain hybrids like yourself enjoying honey, and Winnie The Pooh always told me that bears like honey, but you can’t always rely on cartoons, can you?” Johnny chuckles at the idea. “As a regular, I was thinking maybe I could ask you about your personal experience with our products?”

“That’s a good question,” Johnny says, thinking about it for a moment. “You know my affinity for the blackberry honey - I’ve always had a sweet tooth - but in truth, all the honey sticks are for my niece. She’s the real addict in the family.”

“Really?” Your eyes have widened, and Johnny thinks it’s possible you’ve never been prettier than this moment. “I always- I mean, in the months you’ve been coming in, I just always assumed the honey sticks were for you-”

“Easy mistake,” he smiles.

“You’ve never come in with your niece,” you point out.

Johnny nods, looking around the perfect store. “Yeah. There’s a lot of expensive stuff in here, the pottery, the displays- I didn’t want to bring her in and be a bother so usually I pick stuff up before going to grab her from her school. It’s my day to babysit,” he explains, “and it’s nice to start it off with a little goodie bag.”

He goes to reach for the brown paper bag in question, but you’re quick to pull it away from him. “A goodie bag?” you repeat. “If I'd known this was a goodie bag, I would have put some tissue paper in here-” you’re already reaching under the till, taking out some cream coloured paper with golden spots and bees on it.

“It’s okay-”

“No,” you insist, “your niece is going to love this, trust me.” You press the fun tissue paper into the bag, and the soft crinkling sound makes Johnny smile. “Maybe a bow too?”

“She really doesn’t need a bow-”

“Most little girls like bows, Uncle Big Bear,” you tell him, reaching for the yellow ribbons next to the register. But then your hands freeze. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just called you Uncle Big Bear-”

“That’s okay,” he assures you.

“It’s not,” you shake your head, averting your gaze, and Johnny corrects himself from earlier. He’d thought seeing you shocked made you cute, but seeing you flustered makes you even cuter. “That was really unprofessional-”

“Trust me, It’s okay,” he tells you again. “Look, if you really feel bad about it, you can call me Johnny. You can say ‘most little girls like bows, Johnny’ and that will be fine by me. How’s that sound?”

He loves the way your careful hands wrap a pretty bow around one of the bag handles even as you look up at him with shy eyes. “Most little girls like bows, Johnny,” you say, voice quiet.

“Then I’m thankful you’ve given me tissue paper and a bow,” he grins. “Thanks for all of this,” he picks up the finished bag of goodies.

“You’re welcome,” you nod, biting on your lip. “And Johnny?”

He loves the way his name sounds coming from you. “Yeah?”

“Please bring your niece in. We’re a hybrid and child-friendly store. I’m sure she’d love it here.”

Johnny takes a moment before nodding. “Okay,” he concedes, giving you one last once over before heading to the door.

When he picks up his niece from school, she’s ecstatic to receive a new and improved goodie bag, giggling over the cream and gold, bee and polka dot tissue paper. She immediately tears into one of the honey sticks.

While you’re often on Johnny’s mind after his Queen B visits, today, he can’t get you out of his brain.

You’re halfway through completing a transaction with an older customer when your favourite regular walks into your store. The sight of him makes you do a double take, because today, he’s not alone.

He’s brought his niece in, just like you’d asked him to.

At about waist-high next to the gentle giant bear hybrid, the little girl looks absolutely adorable. She’s in a yellow and white polka dot dress, with two sparkly scrunchies keeping her dark hair up in pigtails just behind her large fluffy ears. Her hand is clasped in Johnny’s, and her eyes are full of wonder as she steps into the space.

“Thank you for shopping with us,” you say to the lady you’re helping, quickly finishing up so your attention can return to Johnny.

His niece is tugging on his hand now, attempting to run up to the display case that’s stocked with all your new honey stick flavours.

“These ones!” the little girl insists. “These are the ones you got me last week!”

“I know, Winnie, I know,” Johnny smiles, joining the little cub in front of the table of treats. “Your favourite was the peach one, right?”

“Uh huh!” The little girl, Winnie, nods enthusiastically. “But I also liked raspberry, and strawberry, and apple, and cherry-”

“Slow down there, cub,” Johnny laughs, bending down to lift his niece up so she can see the display better. “We’ve got all the time in the world to make your choices, right?”

“Right,” Winnie confirms, nodding solemnly as she gazes down at all the honey sticks.

“I think we’ll be needing a basket,” Johnny notes. “Can we go grab a basket?”

“Yeah!” Her enthusiasm makes you smile, and you reach under your till to grab something to carry their honey in, approaching the two with a heart that’s currently melting in your chest.

“Welcome to Queen B’s,” you say, drawing both of the bear hybrid’s eyes. “I heard a basket might be in order?”

You hold it out for Johnny, and he gives you a grateful smile while accepting it. “Yeah, thank you,” he adjusts his niece on his hip. “Winnie, this is y/n, she showed me all these new honey sticks last week and wrapped your goodie bag up in a bow.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” The little girl grins, flashing a toothy smile that shows her sharp canines are just starting to grow in.

“She loved the bow,” Johnny tells you. “Didn’t you, Winnie?”

“I loved it, see!” She thrusts out her hand, and you find the yellow ribbon wrapped around wrist.

“That’s very pretty, Winnie,” you smile, also noting her cute yellow nails. She’s a girl who has an obvious favourite colour, and it’s cute in comparison to the neutral blacks and browns Johnny often wears.

“Is it okay if she chooses her own honey sticks?” Johnny asks, holding his niece closer to the display stand.

“Of course!” You’re a little shocked by how polite Johnny is. Even after telling him you’re a kid-friendly store, he still double checks to make sure he’s not crossing any lines.

“Did you hear that, Winnie?” Johnny looks down at the cub in his arms. “You can choose which ones you want, but I promised your mom to only get twenty today. Do you think you can count to twenty for me while you grab your treats?”

“Of course I can!” Winnie insists, reaching out her little hand to circle a bunch of the peach flavored honey sticks. When she pulls the treats back to her chest, she begins counting, and Johnny joins in. The first five are easy, but she begins to falter a little at six and seven.

Johnny is as patient as ever, helping her through to ten before he stops her. “Is ten enough, cub? That’s half of twenty, you know.”

“Ten is enough,” Winnie sighs, dropping her chosen sticks into the basket before reaching to return those she won’t keep.

“What else?” Johnny asks, beginning to bob his niece up and down on his hip as she surveys the options.

“Two raspberry,” she concludes, and Johnny holds her closer to the tin of raspberry sticks. She plucks two out.

“What’s ten plus two?” Johnny questions.

“Uh…” Winnie looks up at her uncle and you watch him mouth the word twelve, which Winnie announces a moment later.

“Good job,” Johnny praises her. “Ten plus two is twelve. Okay, what’s next?”

“Two cherry.”

“What’s twelve plus two?”

“Uh…” again, Johnny mouths the answer, and Winnie declares “fourteen!” which earns her a few coos of admiration and another ‘good job’ that has you practically melting.

You suppose standing and watching the two is somewhat intrusive, so with a nod to Johnny, you step back, busying yourself on a nearby display case that needs some fixing.

You listen to the bear hybrids count all the way to twenty, and you hear Johnny congratulate Winnie again for counting so high.

You’d always gotten the vibe that Johnny is a softy, but seeing him in action is something else, and you find it harder and harder to stop the smile from appearing on your face at all his sweet actions.

Instead of approaching the till, Johnny asks Winnie if she wants to see some of the pottery on the walls, and the cub lets out an excited “Yes!”

“But remember,” Johnny says, voice turning serious as he puts his basket down and adjusts the girl in his arms, hands going onto her waist so he can lift her high enough to see the tall shelves, “keep your paws to yourself.”

“I promise,” Winnie giggles. “Uncle John! Look! This one’s a beehive!”

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Johnny nods.

“Very pretty,” Winnie confirms.

“Maybe I should get your mom one of these for her birthday,” Johnny says. “Do you think she’d like a honey jar?”

Winnie nods enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Which one, cub? This one? Or…” he moves over a few feet, showing her another ceramic honey pot, “how about this?”

“They’re all so pretty,” Winnie admits.

“Well, how about you think about it, and when we come back next week, you can help me choose one. How’s that sound?”

He truly is a gentle giant, and you find yourself grabbing a few extra honey sticks from a display near the till in preparation for Johnny’s approach.

“Okay, cub,” he says as he carries his niece over, “I’m gonna have to set you down now so I can pay.”

“Okay,” Winnie nods, allowing herself to be placed back on the ground. She tucks in close to Johnny’s leg, looking around the store while Johnny sets the basket next to your till.

“How’s your day going?” Johnny asks, flashing you a smile as he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.

“It’s going great,” you admit. “I was wondering if you’d actually come in today.”

“I told you last time, Monday’s the day I babysit.”

“And I told you to bring in your niece,” your eyes dip to the small bear hybrid still clinging to his leg, “I’m very glad you did.”

“Me too,” Johnny smiles. “How much do I owe you?”

You give him the price of his twenty honey sticks, moving them from the basket to a pretty goodie bag you’d prepared. Johnny hands you two bills, and as always, tells you to keep the change.

“Wait,” he says when he watches you put five extra honey sticks into the bag, “I didn’t buy those-”

“They’re on the house,” you assure him. “I understand that your sister made a twenty honey stick cap, but I figured, maybe Winnie will share some with you, so… here are extra ones. They’re a different brand, Overgrove Apiary, and they’re all blackberry, which I know is your favourite.”

“Wow,” Johnny accepts the goodie bag, immediately handing it off to Winnie, who reaches in to tear a honey stick out. “Thank you, I uh… I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” you assure him. “And by the way, the ice cream parlour next door has a new flavour out. It’s honeycomb.”

“Honeycomb!?” Winnie is midway through tearing open the stick in her hands, and she looks up at you with wide eyes.

“You’re trying to get me in trouble with her mother, aren’t you?” Johnny laughs.

“I’d never even think of doing such a thing,” you grin.

“Sure you wouldn’t,” Johnny looks you up and down, and you feel your skin heating under his gaze. “Have a good day, y/n.”

“You too, Johnny.”

You’ve been looking forward to Monday all weekend, and when Johnny walks in at 3:30 with Winnie on his shoulders, all the tension from your long day leaves your body.

“Hi, you two,” you greet them, coming from around the till to give them your full attention.

“Hi, y/n!” Winnie exclaims, waving enthusiastically at you.

“How’s your day going, cub?” you ask, looking up at the little girl clinging to Johnny’s head.

“It’s okay,” Winnie sighs.

“That doesn’t sound okay,” you note, reading her body language.

Your gaze dips to Johnny and he gives you a look. “Some kids were being mean to her in school today,” he confesses.

“What?” you look to Winnie again. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“It wasn’t,” she confirms with another loud sigh. “They were making fun of my ears.”

“But you have such wonderful ears,” you compliment her, frowning at the fact that the world is still full of people who are very much anti-hybrid.

“That’s what I told her,” Johnny nods.

“Uncle John wanted to know their names so he could go and gobble them up,” Winnie tells you, flashing a mischievous smile. “But I told him I could handle it. They might not like my ears, but they don’t know how to dress good either, so-” the cub shrugs, “how am I supposed to listen to girls who don’t know how to dress good?”

You find yourself laughing at her sass, nodding along. “That’s a very good point, Winnie. I have to admit, I liked your dress the first time you entered the shop, and I see you’re in an even prettier one today.”

“This one?!” Winnie looks down at the cream coloured poofy dress adorning her form. “Uncle John got it for me for my birthday.”

“Well, he also has an eye for fashion, doesn’t he?” You smile at Johnny, and he grins back at you.

“He does,” Winnie agrees. “Even though mommy says he should wear dress pants with a button up, I like his t-shirts.”

“I do too,” you nod. You’ve always liked Johnny’s style, the way he can wear a nice pair of dress pants with a casual shirt and sneakers.

“You guys are too nice to me,” Johnny insists, and you can see the hint of a blush in his pretty complexion.

“No such thing as too nice,” Winnie insists, “you taught me that, Uncle John.”

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” he sighs. “Anyways, you remember our mission today, right cub?”

“A honeypot for mommy,” the little girl on his shoulders nods.

“That’s right,” Johnny begins to move towards the shelves holding ceramics, and you shadow the pair.

“Is there anything that stood out to you the last time you were here, princess Winnie?” you ask.

The little girl kicks her feet with joy at the new title you’ve given her, and she nods. “The beehive.”

“The beehive,” Johnny repeats with a sigh, and his gaze shifts to you. “Our little Winnie is nothing if not predictable.”

You enjoy the sentiment, the use of the word ‘our’ as if you’re already a part of their little family. You certainly feel connected to the two bear hybrids, although you’ve only really been getting to know Johnny for a short time.

You hope you can get to know them better.

“Is this the beehive honey pot you want?” you ask, pointing at a lovely handmade ceramic on the top shelf.

“Uh huh, that’s the one,” Winnie nods, playing with Johnny’s ears as she holds onto his head. “Mommy’s going to love it.”

“I’m sure she will,” you agree. “Let me just get the step ladder so I can reach it-”

“No need,” Johnny assures you, stepping forward and reaching up to grab the honey pot. You marvel at how tall he is- “Here,” he holds it out for you, “would you mind taking that to the till while we grab our twenty honey sticks?”

“I don’t mind at all,” you smile, accepting the ceramic and holding it close to your chest.

Johnny helps Winnie off of his shoulders and the two head to the display case that holds your store’s best goodies. You walk over to the till, scanning the price tag of the honey pot and getting it prepared.

You wrap it in bubble wrap before placing it in a nice gift bag and adding tissue paper to obscure the pot. This is a present after all, and you take your time making it look nice.

You’re just finishing your task when Winnie and Johnny approach holding twenty honey sticks, and they wait patiently while you scan them too.

“Hey Winnie,” Johnny looks down at his niece, “How about you go take a look at that display case over there,” he suggests, “I’m sure there’s some stuff in it you haven’t seen before.”

Winnie looks confused for a moment, but then she shrugs, skipping off to look at the array of jarred honey in a display case a few meters away.

You cock a brow at Johnny while he pulls out his wallet.

“Listen,” he says, voice low as he pulls out cash, “I know this might be overstepping, and I’m sorry if that’s the case but… I’d really like to take you out some time.”

“Take me out?”

“On a date,” Johnny clarifies. “Again, shoot me down and there will be no hard feelings-”

“I’d love to,” you tell him.

“Really?” He breaks into a smile, and it makes your heart flutter with excitement.

“Really,” you confirm, reaching for a Queen B’s Honey business card. “Let me give you my number,” you say, grabbing a pen to write your digits on the back of the piece of paper.

When you hand it to Johnny, your fingers brush, and the contact makes your whole body light up with energy. You can tell from the way Johnny looks down at your number, skin flaring a slight pinkish colour, that he has no clue of the effect he has on you. “Thanks,” he mutters, voice cracking. “I’ll uh, give you a call later.”

“Wow, a call, not just a text,” you smile as you take Johnny’s cash, putting it into the register and counting out change.

“Let’s just say I’m old fashioned,” the bear grins sheepishly at you.

“I like it,” you confess. “It’s part of your charm.”

“I have charm?”

“Tons,” you nod.

“Good to know.” He licks his lips, looking down at you with those chocolate brown eyes that have always made you feel like melting into a puddle on the floor.

Winnie returns to grab her bag of honey sticks, and Johnny gently picks up the present for his sister. “Say goodbye to y/n, Winnie.”

“Goodbye, y/n. See you next week!”

“You better,” you grin. “I’ll be eager to find out how your mom likes her new honeypot.”

“She’ll love it,” Winnie says with the confidence that only a toddler truly possesses.

You adore her already.

“I’ll call you,” Johnny says again, giving you one last smile as you say goodbye and he turns to leave your store.

You watch him go, holding Winnie’s hand while the little girl skips along.

You kind of feel like skipping too.

Old fashioned Johnny is sweeter than the honey your store makes, and he calls you on Monday evening to see if you want to go to a fair on Thursday night. “You’re not scared of heights right? I can take you on the ferris wheel? They do fireworks at nine thirty for the kids but uh, I thought you might like watching them.”

He’s a gentleman, and you agree to all his ideas.

Waiting until Thursday is something like torture, but you somehow make it to the end of your shift and go home to get dolled up for Johnny. It will be the first time he sees you not in a work outfit, and you want to impress him.

You’d noted how proud he looked of Winnie’s dress when she’d mentioned he’d bought it for her, and you think Johnny might have a thing for cutesy looks, so you find your sweetest dress. It’s still modest, and when you look in the mirror, you realize you sort of look like one of those cute elementary school teachers you’ve seen in movies.

Finishing the outfit off with red lipstick, you think it’s a happy medium, after all, you will be at a fair with lots of children running around.

Johnny picks you up from your house, pulling up next to the curb in an old black muscle car convertible that takes your breath away as you approach.

“Wow,” you whisper, looking between him and the vehicle he’s leaning against.

“I should be saying that to you,” Johnny grins, straightening and holding out his hands. “You look amazing. Can you do a little spin for me?”

You allow him to grab your hand, and he helps you do a twirl that makes your dress dance.

“Perfect,” he tells you. “I’ve always liked your work outfit, but this dress is something else.”

“Really?” you beam up at him, allowing the bear hybrid to pull you to his chest.

“Would I lie to you?” he asks.

You stare into his eyes, and after a moment’s consideration, you shake your head. “No, you wouldn’t.”

You almost think Johnny’s about to kiss you, but then he swallows thickly and turns his head away, looking at the road. “Should we get going?”

“Yes, please.”

He drives a little wilder than the calm persona he exudes when he’s in your shop, and you find yourself giggling as he races down streets. It feels exhilarating to be in a convertible, the warm summer air rushing past.

Johnny grins at you when you laugh, pushing the car even harder to bring you more joy.

You’re already completely dazzled by the bear hybrid by the time you get to the fair, and the night just keeps getting better and better.

He holds your hand as you walk through the crowd, and he even wins you a massive teddy bear at one of the fair games. His baseball skills are no joke, and he easily knocks down all the bottles, triumphantly holding the teddy out to you as his prize.

“For me?” you ask in shock, accepting the toy.

“Of course, everyone needs a Big Bear in their life,” he tells you, and the glint in his smile makes you think you’ve already found yours.

The two of you go on a few rides, with you clinging to Johnny’s side during rough twists and turns. He keeps you and the teddy bear safe, laughing while you scream in delight. It feels like being a kid again. It’s something you’ve never really experienced, being at a fair on a date with a cute guy who seems to want to give you the world.

It’s nine twenty before you even know it, and Johnny leads you to the ferris wheel.

“We should get to the top by the time the fireworks start,” he tells you before pulling out his wallet and stepping close to the teenage boy working the ride. “I’ll pay you twenty bucks to give us an extra five minutes at the top.”

“I can do that,” the teenager nods, quickly pocketing the bill before helping you both onto the ferris wheel. “Here, I’ll take care of the bear for you,” he says, as there’s no way you both will fit on the ride with the massive stuffed animal. The seats are for two adults, and Johnny pulls out another five to give to the attendant before sitting next to you.

The bar is secured in place, locking you in next to the bear hybrid who smoothly puts his arm behind you, laying it across the back of the seats. “It’s a nice night,” he tells you.

“A perfect night,” you agree. “I’m so happy you asked me to do this with you.”

“I’m happy you came,” he smiles. “I wasn’t sure if asking you out while you were at work was a good idea, but, I guess after seeing you interact with Winnie, I just couldn’t pass up on the opportunity.”

“Your niece is wonderful,” you breathe.

“She’s a good cub,” Johnny nods.

“Seeing as we’re going to be on this ride for a while, do you mind if I ask you some questions about yourself? We’ve spent the whole night doing things, and I don’t actually know that much about you.”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Let's start with what you do for work?”

Johnny laughs. “Any guesses?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re not a nine to five kind of guy-”

“I’m not,” he confirms.

“You dress so well, part of me wants to say you’re involved in fashion or something.”

“Good idea,” Johnny grins, “but unfortunately no, I’m not involved with any fashion work. I think my job is a hard one to guess, so I’ll just tell you. I run a club with a few close friends.”

“You run a club?” you blink at him.

“Don’t look so shocked, Bee,” Johnny smiles, and your heart does flip flops at the new pet name. “It’s a hybrid bar in midtown.”

“A hybrid bar,” you repeat.

“Humans are allowed in the front section, but we have a back that’s exclusive for hybrids. It’s a safe space for us, and I’m there a lot, especially during the weekends, keeping an eye on things,” he explains.

“Tell me about the friends you work with?”

“First, there’s Hyuck. He’s a pretty peculiar guy. Then there’s Renjun, and Yuta, he’s a wolf hybrid. But at this point, I’m friends with a lot of the workers too. We have this raven manager, Doyoung, and I love watching him run around like a stressed chicken with his head cut off-” Johnny smiles to himself. “You’ll have to come by sometime and meet them.”

“That would be nice,” you nod. “I mean, you’ve seen me at work so often, it would be interesting to see you in your own element.”

“Honestly, I’m not so sure the club is my element. It’s a good way to make money, and I don’t have to do much- it’s one of the perks of being a part owner. But if I had to choose between your store and the club, I think I’d rather be at the honey shop.”

“So you can watch me run around like a stressed chicken with my head cut off?” you tease.

“You always seem so put together,” Johnny tells you.

“That’s because you often show up when no one else is in the store. You should see what it’s like during a Saturday rush.”

The bear hybrid laughs. “Maybe I’ll have to pop by, then.”

You’re only halfway up the ferris wheel, and you’re a little surprised when a sudden loud pop marks the beginning of the fireworks. You tear your gaze from Johnny, focusing on the blue and green explosion that’s lighting up the dark sky.

“Wow, this view is amazing!” you exclaim.

“It is,” Johnny agrees, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that the charming man hasn’t stopped staring at you just yet. “I knew you’d like it here.”

He adjusts his arm behind you, finally resting his hand casually over your shoulder, and you immediately tuck yourself closer to the bear hybrid. His large body is so warm and comforting, and you enjoy the peaceful quiet that settles over you both as you watch the fireworks.

The ride moves, bringing you closer to the prime spot at the top of the ferris wheel. You can feel yourself getting giddier- you’ve never been on a date like this. Never experienced something this perfect.

“You’re cute,” Johnny says.

“I am?” You look at the bear hybrid next to you.

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “The way your eyes light up when you’re watching the fireworks- I’ve never seen anything prettier.”

“Stop, you’re such a charmer,” you blush, hiding your face against the crook of his neck.

“Just being honest,” he tells you, stroking your shoulder.

The ride begins to move again, and you pull away from Johnny to marvel at the view again.

From the top of the ferris wheel, you can see everything. The whole fairground is laid out below you, twinkling and brilliant. The fireworks are dazzling, filling the sky with colourful explosions.

You turn to Johnny and something comes over you. You want to say thank you, but the words themselves won’t suffice, so instead, you lean close, pressing your lips to his cheek. Johnny practically freezes, and when you pull away, you see a red lipstick stain on his skin.

Johnny turns his head to look at you, gaze darting down to your mouth-

Again, you’re hit with a surge of confidence, and this time, when you lean in, it’s not his cheek you’re aiming for.

Johnny’s lips are soft, gentle against your own, and then his hand comes up to cup your face. You don’t want to pull away. You can tell he doesn’t want you to either. His mouth parts, tongue gently teasing your bottom lip, and you let him deepen the kiss.

Your body is tingling with energy as you lean closer to him, grabbing at the front of his shirt. When your own tongue darts out to taste him, the bear hybrid lets out a groan, and you mirror it with a pleasured sound of your own.

A loud bang makes you jump a little in his embrace, and Johnny smiles against your lips, releasing your face so you can turn to admire the large firework that’s just been set off.

“John,” you breathe, “this is perfect.”

“It’s how I wanted our first kiss to be,” he muses. “As much as I wanted to kiss you when I picked you up, I knew waiting would have its rewards.”

So he wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him, and the thought has your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

You can’t help but press your lips to his again, smiling into the kiss while Johnny tugs you closer. His free hand slips down to your thigh, and you moan at how good it feels.

It’s shocking how just kissing Johnny is already doing so much to your body- as if some primal instinct is taking over.

You’re not sure how long you remain lip locked, but when the ride jolts into motion again, you break the kiss, laughing a little as you bury your face against his neck.

The bear hybrid holds you tighter, and you remain in his embrace for the rest of the ride.

When you reach the ground again, Johnny holds out a hand and helps you out of your seat. The teenage ride attendant gives Johnny the bear stuffie, and he carries it for you as you walk through the fairgrounds towards his car.

You’re amazed with how comfortable you are with Johnny, and the ride home is filled with as many speed fueled giggles as your drive to the fairground had been.

When you reach your house, Johnny even walks you to the door.

You kiss him again, loving the way that his size dwarfs your own. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, not wanting to let go. But all good nights must come to an end, and after a long makeout session, you finally pull away to catch your breath.

“When can I see you again?” Johnny asks.

“Monday?” you suggest.

“With Winnie?” The bear hybrid laughs. “Are you sure you’re not using me to get to my niece?”

You grin, enjoying his playful banter. “I was just thinking that you said you work most evenings on the weekend, and I work during the day, so our schedules are conflicting.”

“Right, yeah,” Johnny nods. “What are you doing Tuesday, after work?”

“You tell me.”

“Movies,” Johnny states. “I want to take you to the movies.”

“Is there anything good showing?”

“Probably,” he shrugs. “I figure anything will be good if you’re there with me.”

He’s such a sweet talker, and you give him a kiss, thanking him for the lovely evening. “I’ll see you Monday, John.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Why are you rushing, Uncle John?” Winnie asks as Johnny speeds down the street after picking her up from school.

“No reason,” he says, although it's partially a lie.

He’s excited to see you, even if it’s just for a short interaction while Winnie gets her honey fix. However, his niece is right, Johnny is going a little too fast, and it’s almost torture for him to slow down.

He all but hops out of the car when he parks in front of your shop, opening the back door for Winnie to exit the vehicle as well. They enter Queen B’s Honey with enthusiasm, although the cause of that enthusiasm is very different.

Winnie goes straight for the honey stick display, but Johnny’s much more focused on you. You’re restocking a few honey jars on a top shelf, wobbling a little on your stepping stool, and the bear hybrid is quick to rush to your aid.

“Hey there,” he breathes, steadying a hand on your waist. “Carefull, Bee.”

“Oh, hi, John,” you grin down at him.

“Hi, yourself,” he smiles, watching you put the last jar in its place.

You turn, resting your hands on his shoulders as you step down to the floor, and Johnny loves the way you’re so much shorter than he is. He could just eat you up-

“Hi, Winnie!” You wave at his niece over his shoulder.

“Hi!” she calls back, and when Johnny turns, he sees his little cub is already reaching to grab a few peach honey sticks from their jar. She’s occupied, and it gives Johnny the chance to talk to you one on one a little, something he’s very grateful for.

“How was your weekend?” he asks.

“Busy,” you laugh. “You?”

“Busy,” he grins. “Was thinking about you a lot.”

“You were, were you?” There’s a twinkle in your eye, and it all but bewitches the bear hybrid who still has a hand on your hip. “Did I really leave that good of an impression?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he confesses. “Were you thinking about me too?”

“More than I care to say,” you nod.

“Are we still on for that movie tomorrow?”

“Of course, unless you’ve changed your mind-”

“Never.”

“Uncle John!” Winnie’s voice snaps Johnny out of his daze, and he tears his gaze from your lips to look at his niece.

“Yeah, cub?”

“I can’t reach the cherry honey!”

“Oh no,” Johnny says in an animated fashion, letting go of your waist to go help Winnie. “We can’t have that, can we?” He lifts his niece up, helping her grab a handful of honey sticks. “Woah there cub, how many of these have you got already?”

“Just a few,” she insists, adding her new goodies to a hand already holding a large number of peach sticks.

“Just a few,” Johnny chuckles. It’s obvious that Winnie has forgotten her candy cap. “Can you count to twenty for me?”

“Just twenty?” Winnie whines.

“You know we’ll both get in trouble with your mom if you have any more than that.”

Winnie sighs with exasperation, putting a few of the cherry sticks back in their jar.

“There we go,” Johnny grins. “Just peach and cherry today?”

“They’re my favourites,” Winnie insists.

It’s a shame that his little cub doesn’t take longer choosing honey, as it means there’s less time with you, but Johnny also supposes that he shouldn’t be monopolizing on goodie time. He’ll get to see you tomorrow, even though it pains him to head to the till and say goodbye to you so soon.

“Have a wonderful day, you two,” you grin.

“We will,” Johnny promises. His day is already fantastic now that he’s seen you, and he’ll carry the memory of helping you off that stool for many hours to come. “Don’t work too hard.”

“No promises,” you wink.

God, you’re perfect.

“Don’t be mad,” Johnny says, which is not a great start to a call thirty minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up for your date, “but when Winnie heard I was going to the theater with you, she insisted on coming because there’s this new Disney movie that’s showing, and her mom jumped at the idea to have her own date night-”

You listen to the bear hybrid ramble with a smile on your face, and when he finishes, he asks you if you’re okay with Winnie tagging along. “I’d love for her to join us,” you tell him. “You know I adore Winnie.”

Johnny lets out a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Have I ever told you how perfect you are?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, you are. Very perfect. Thanks for understanding.”

Half an hour later Johnny’s at your door, but he’s not in the convertible muscle car. Instead, an SUV is waiting on the curb, and you see Winnie waving at you frantically through the window.

“You look amazing,” Johnny breathes, taking in your dress with a smile.

“You clean up well too, John,” you smile, enjoying the brown checkered pants and white shirt he’s wearing.

“I’m sorry about this-”

“Don’t be,” you assure him. “As I said on the phone, I’m happy for the little cub to join.”

“Yeah,” Johnny sighs. “This was supposed to be a date-”

“It can still be a date,” you tell him, and you truly mean it.

It’s obvious to you that Winnie is a big part of Johnny’s life, and if you’re going to be part of his world too, it only makes sense for you to embrace his family.

When you get into the car, Winnie is quick to say hello, and she’s practically bouncing in her seat in the back of the vehicle. “It is you!” she exclaims. “Uncle John told me you’d be coming, but I didn’t really believe him!”

“No?” you smile. “Why’s that, cub?”

“Because you’re a princess, and he’s just Uncle John!”

“Ouch,” Johnny laughs, slipping behind the wheel. “That hurts, Win.” He turns the key in the ignition, casting a glance at you. “Do we all have our seatbelts on?”

“Yes, John,” you smile, and your sentiment is echoed by Winnie in the back, “of course, Uuncle John!”

“Why?” he presses, looking over his shoulder at the child in the back seat.

“Because safety is the most important thing!” she all but yells, and you think this must be something of a ritual for the two of them. It’s sweet, and it makes you fall even harder for the bear hybrid.

“Can we turn on my music?” Winnie asks next.

“Of course, cub,” Johnny nods, reaching for the center console, fingers pausing over the play button. “That is, if Miss Bee doesn’t mind the Lion King soundtrack.”

“Not at all,” you assure him.

Music fills the car a moment later, as does Winnie’s high pitched singing voice. When it reaches the chorus of the song, even Johnny joins in, and you wonder how many times he’s listened to this sound track with his niece.

It’s a soft experience, and one you savor every second of as Johnny drives you to the theater.

Winnie insists on walking between you and Johnny when she exits the car, holding both of your hands and doing little jumps that force you and her uncle to lift her off the ground while she giggles.

Once inside, you wait in the concession line and Winnie tells you all about the movie you’re going to see. She’s a massive Disney fan, and you enjoy listening to her talk. You catch Johnny staring at you a few times, and he always flashes you a smile when you meet his eyes.

Johnny gets a large popcorn with extra butter, and when he hands it to Winnie, she notes, “This is as big as me!”

In the theater, Johnny’s adorable niece once again insists on sitting in the middle, and Johnny lets out a small sigh but doesn’t argue with his niece. When you take your seats, however, his arm immediately goes along the back of the chairs, and his fingers find the back of your neck, gently stroking your skin.

He smiles at you when you turn to look at him, giving you a small wink before he entertains Winnie with a discussion on what colour his tail would be if he was a mermaid. Winnie decides hers would be yellow, and when Johnny says his would be green, she insists his would be brown because he’s a brown bear hybrid.

“Does that make you a yellow bear?” Johnny questions teasingly.

“A honey bear,” Winnie corrects. “And Miss Bee would be pink.”

“Really?” Johnny’s brows raise. “And why’s that, cub?”

“Because she has a pretty pink soul,” the child smiles, looking up at you. “And also, your dress is pink, and I like it.”

“Thank you, Winnie, I like your dress too.”

Winnie kicks her feet happily and Johnny rubs his thumb along the back of your neck in small, warm circles.

The lights dim, the movie starts, and you find that you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself. It’s nice to have Johnny’s gentle touch, a constant reminder that - although you’re here with his niece - he’s still doing his best to be attentive to you.

The film flies by, and before you know it, the three of you are exiting the theater. Winnie is dragging her feet, obviously exhausted from a long day at school and an evening movie, so Johnny picks her up, holding her tight to his chest while she wraps her legs around his waist and all but passes out on his shoulder.

At the car, you help Johnny put Winnie into the back seat, and when he closes the door, he turns to you. “Thank you for all of this.”

“Stop thanking me,” you smile. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Me too.” His hands find your waist, and he tugs you closer- only for his phone to ring.

“Shit,” Johnny cusses, the first swear word you’ve heard from him. “One sec, it’s my sister.”

He answers the call, assuring Winnie’s mom that the movie went well and they’ll be home soon. When he hangs up, Johnny tugs you to his chest again, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

He seems reluctant to let you go, but he opens your car door for you all the same, shutting it gently behind you once you’re tucked inside.

The drive home is quiet, as Winnie has fully passed out in the back seat. Johnny’s hand is on your thigh, and you place your own on top of his, playing with his fingers.

When you reach your house, Johnny exits the car to walk you to your door, where he kisses you, cupping your face and taking your breath away.

“I want to see you again,” he says, still holding you close.

“I’d love that.”

“How about Thursday? The club usually isn’t that busy on Thursdays. You could come meet a few of my friends.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I think I’d like that.”

“Perfect,” Johnny leans in to kiss you again, and as much as you’d love to melt against him, you’re very aware that Winnie’s mom is waiting for her back home.

“Drive safe, please,” you say when you finally pull away.

“I always do.”

You laugh. “That’s debatable.”

“You just don’t trust my driving skills yet,” Johnny insists.

Before you can stop him, he gives you one final kiss goodbye, and when you watch him turn to walk back to his car, you find yourself wishing he didn’t have to leave.

On Thursday night, you face the dilemma of figuring out what to wear for your date with Johnny. The past two experiences had been fairly classic, with a fair adventure and a trip to the movies, both perfectly suitable locations to wear a cute dress. But tonight, you’re going to a club and you wonder how that should affect your clothing choice.

After much contemplation, and about ten different outfit try-ons, you decide to stick with your usual baby doll style. Johnny seems to like it when you dress cute for him, and you’re banking on the fact that the bear hybrid likes you for you, as opposed to the girls who frequent his club in all forms of scandalous attire.

You’re feeling a little anxious about visiting a hybrid bar, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s not that you personally have anything against hybrids, you’re just used to only being around one or two at a time.

You suppose maybe this is how Johnny feels, being a hybrid in a human dominant world, and the thought makes you a little sad. He always gives off such an air of ease and calmness, as if he doesn’t have a bother in the world. You wonder what adversities he’s had to overcome to get to that mentality, or if he was simply born that way.

Before you know it, Johnny’s picking you up. The convertible muscle car is back, and you take a moment to appreciate him leaning against it on the curb.

He’s dressed up tonight, more so than usual. His dress pants are paired with a button up, and its black silky material is soft to the touch when he pulls you to his chest for a kiss. “You look perfect,” he tells you, pinching at your chin and looking you up and down. “My perfect little honey bee doll.”

“I’m happy you like my dress,” you grin, swaying your hips so the skirt picks up.

Johnny grabs your hand, giving you the space to help you twirl while he lets out a whistle of appreciation. “I always like your dresses,” he admits. “I like your jeans and white t-shirt work outfits, but, I mean…when you walked out on our first date in a dress, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Good, I can’t take my eyes off of you either.”

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into one last kiss before he opens the car door for you and helps you inside.

The ride is a peaceful one. He asks about your day, tells you about his own, and before you know it, you’re pulling up in front of his club. “You ready to meet my friends, gorgeous?” he asks, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze of reassurance.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before exiting the car.

When you enter the club, with Johnny’s hand securely on the small of your back, it feels like any other bar you’ve been to. The staff are mostly hybrids, but you notice a few humans dressed in black too.

“It’s nice in here,” you tell him, beaming up at the man who makes you so eager to please.

“If you like this, wait till you see the back room,” Johnny grins, leading you past the bar.

“Oh,” you swallow thickly. “Didn’t you mention that the back is hybrid exclusive? Are you sure we should be going back there?”

“You have a good memory,” the bear nods. “It’s hybrid exclusive, but I'm a part owner, so I figure I can do what I want. Besides, this front section doesn’t have a VIP seating area, and my friends prefer to be in places where people can’t overhear us.”

“Are you planning on giving me some trade secrets, John?” You cock a brow and the bear hybrid laughs.

“Something like that.”

You reach the back door, where a bunny hybrid looks you up and down, his large, floppy ears twitching before his gaze shifts to Johnny. “Yuta said you’d be coming in tonight.”

You notice a puppy hybrid of sorts standing a few feet to the side, and his beautiful face is unreadable, his eyes fixed on you.

“Of course he did,” Johnny smiles at the bunny. “There’s not much Yuta can keep from you, is there, Markie?”

The bunny hybrid’s cheeks flare a cute shade of pink and he lets out a cough. “He’s uh… he’s waiting for you in VIP. Hyuck’s there too.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Johnny says, applying a small amount of pressure onto your lower back which prompts you to step past Mark and through the open doorway.

Johnny was right about the hybrid exclusive section being nicer than the front, and you hurry to take it all in with your eyes. As you scan the space, it’s hard not to notice a few looks you get from people within the room.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’re with Johnny, or because you’re a human, but when your eyes catch the gaze of a man behind the bar with large, black raven wings, you get the feeling that it might be the latter.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” you ask, tucking closer to Johnny’s side.

“Definitely,” Johnny nods, leading you toward a set of stairs that leads to the VIP section. “Especially up here.” He takes your hand as you ascend, and you see a booth with two men sitting in it.

One has white hair to match his ashy wolf ears, and you think this must be the Yuta that Johnny has mentioned to you. The other man has his back to you, and you don’t see any obvious hybrid markings.

Johnny hadn’t mentioned much about this ‘Hyuck’ friend of his, other than him being peculiar, and you begin to wonder if Hyuck might be human like you. It would definitely make you feel more comfortable.

“Hey, guys,” Johnny greets his friends as you come to a stop in front of the table. “How’s it going?”

Both the men turn to look at you, and like the hybrids at the door, their gaze shifts down and then back up. The wolf is the first to stand, pulling out of the booth to shake your hand.

“I’m Yuta, and you must be the honey girl,” he flashes you a smile complete with sharp canines that glint in the light. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?”

“Johnny has been talking about you for months,” Hyuck breathes, but he doesn’t stand. “It was good to hear he finally grew some balls-”

“Hyuck,” Johnny groans, a warning in his tone. “Be nice.”

“You love bears probably want to sit next to each other,” Yuta says, slipping into the booth next to his friend and giving you the other side of the bench.

“Thanks,” Johnny nods, allowing you to sit first before he moves next to you, his arm immediately taking its place behind your shoulders. “Have you two been here long?”

Hyuck shakes his head, playing with the glass of amber liquid in front of him, but it’s Yuta who speaks. “Not long,” he assures you both, obviously the more talkative of the two. “Hyuck was here before me though, something about fucking his girlfriend in the staff bathroom-”

Hyuck grins mischievously and you wonder if this is a common occurrence for him.

“Does your girlfriend work here?” you ask, hoping to get into Hyuck’s good graces.

“Yeah,” his gaze shifts to the dance floor below. “She’s the sexy little bunny running around in that cute black dress.”

“She’s very pretty,” you smile.

“It runs in her family,” Yuta comments.

You’re confused for a moment before Johnny is leaning in close to your ear, “the bunny at the door, Mark, is her brother.”

“Oh,” you blink as you look at the men in front of you. “So you’re dating siblings?”

“I wouldn’t call what Yuta does with Mark dating-” Hyuck grins, earning an elbow in the ribs from the wolf on his side.

Johnny lets out a chuckle. “They’re both being very bad club owners, if you ask me.”

To be fair, both Yuta and Hyuck seem like the types to date their workers, but you suppose you shouldn’t hold that against them. These are Johnny’s friends, and you’re not about to start judging them now.

“So, Hyuck,” you look at the man across from you. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have any uh… any hybrid marks? Let me know if I’m being too forward, but are you human, or?”

Hyuck scoffs. “Definitely not.”

“And before you ask,” Yuta buts in, “his hybrid type is classified information.” The wolf flashes you a wink, and you suppose you should drop the topic. However, you can’t help the pang of anxiety that clutches your heart when you realize you truly are the only human in this back room.

“Johnny,” you look at the bear sitting next to you. “Are you really sure I should be here?”

“It’s fine-” Johnny goes to assure you again, but you can tell from the darkening of Hyuck’s gaze that maybe he doesn’t agree.

Before you can say anything else, Hyuck’s bunny hybrid girlfriend shows up. She smiles at Johnny, asking if he wants the usual, but when her eyes move to you, and you see her nose do a small wiggle, you realize she’s clocking you as a human.

“And what can I get your friend?” the bunny asks, and you’re thankful that she’s still being polite to you, but you can’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Actually, I think maybe I need some air,” you admit, taking a deep breath.

You suddenly feel very claustrophobic, and it might have to do with being surrounded by predatory hybrids. You don’t know what Hyuck is, exactly, but you’re sure he’s something big, because he acts like he’s got the biggest cock in the room.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks, standing up from the booth to give you the space to escape your seat.

“Yeah, I just need to go outside for a moment,” you shake your head, turning to apologize to his friends before moving past the bunny hybrid and walking back down the stairs.

You can hear Johnny following you, but you’re in something of a rush as you weave through hybrids staring you down on the dance floor. When you get to the door leading to the front section, Mark stops you with a hand on your forearm. “Are you okay?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, thank you-”

Johnny appears behind you, taking control of the situation as he tells Mark, “She just needs some air.”

The bunny hybrid lets you go, and you scurry to the front door, finally making your escape onto the street where you feel like you can finally take a breath.

Johnny stands two feet away from you, watching you with an empathetic expression. He gives you time to take a few deep inhales before reaching for your hand and pulling you to his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting-”

“You’re not,” he assures you, cupping your face and giving you a soft smile.

“I just… I feel like… everyone should have a safe space, you know? And I worry that, as a human, being in that back section was sort of like… invading the sanctity of your hybrid only zone. I’m really sorry, John, but I’m not sure if I can go back in there.”

“That’s okay,” he nods. “Maybe I was being…” he searches for the word, “presumptuous tonight. I wanted you to meet my friends, but I didn’t think too hard about how you might feel in that environment. I’m sorry I put you in this situation.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry-”

“Well we can’t both be sorry,” Johnny grins. “So maybe neither of us should be. Maybe tonight just didn’t work out, but that’s okay.”

“Really?” Relief floods your system as you look up into Johnny’s soft brown eyes.

“Really,” he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What do you say about going somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else?”

“How about my place?” he suggests. “I was planning on inviting you after this, but we could go there now if you want. No pressure though.”

You take a deep breath before you find yourself nodding. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” His thumb smooths by your cheek.

“Do you have to go back inside to say goodbye to your friends? I feel bad about making them come down here to meet me only to run away-”

“Trust me, those two would be here watching their bunnies even if we didn’t come out tonight. I’ll just send them a text and explain the situation. We can always meet them another night, at another bar.”

“And you’re sure they won’t hate me?”

“I don’t think anyone could ever hate you, Bee. You’re much too sweet for that kind of reaction.” Johnny smiles. “In fact, I bet Hyuck will be impressed.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because you care so much about the sanctity of the hybrid zone. Much more than I do.”

“You really think your friends will be alright?”

“Without a doubt.” He leans down to press another sweet kiss to your lips, but this one lingers. When he finally pulls away, you’re left wanting more, but he’s already reaching behind himself to open the door to his car for you. “Let’s go, gorgeous. My house is nicer than this place anyways.”

Johnny’s right about his house, it’s much nicer than the club. You guess you shouldn’t be shocked that he’s got a place just out of town, nestled amongst the trees of the forest. It’s a sleek place to live, and you admire the wood detailing of the upgraded cabin like exterior.

“This is a big house,” you muse, as you follow Johnny up the stone steps.

“Too big for me, I think,” he admits. “But it was one of the only places I could find with acreage in the forest, and I wanted a space that felt like home, you know? Winnie loves it here, some nights she sleeps over and we have a fire in the back with s’mores, other days I take her on some of the hiking trails- my land connects with the national forest, and we’ve got easy access to one of the better hiking paths in the park.”

Your heart melts a little. You know Johnny is a fabulous uncle, but you hadn’t realized the true extent of it.

“I love how close you are with Winnie,” you admit. “It can be rare to find a single guy who’s so doting on his younger family members.”

“Then I’m glad we found each other,” Johnny grins. “I’ve had ex’s in the past who would get mad about the time I spend with Winnie, but not you. I really did appreciate how well you took her date crashing that other night.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t a problem. I had a wonderful time.”

Johnny flashes you a grin as he lets you into his house, and you marvel at the interior being as lovely as the outside had been.

“Wow…it feels even bigger inside,” you note. “Will you give me a tour?”

“Of course,” Johnny tosses his keys down on an entryway table, grabbing your hand to begin showing you around.

The lower level has a state of the art kitchen with french doors that open to the outside deck, and Johnny tells you about the barbecues he hosts here. “We even had a family reunion out back two years ago,” he admits. “I’ve got extra rooms, so my grandparents stayed here, and a few of my aunts and uncles- it was a really good time.”

“That sounds like a wonderful reunion,” you smile, enjoying how deep his love for family truly runs.

There’s a large dining room, and a living room with glass windows giving views to the forest. In the corner there’s even a toy chest, and Johnny explains how he bought so many things for Winnie through the years that he just started keeping some at his own house for the time she’d be here with him.

You love that he’s not a man afraid to share his space with a six year old, even if the toy chest does stand out amongst the other furnishings.

The second level is where the bedrooms are, and Johnny lets you peek into Winnie’s room, where there are even more toys overflowing in baskets.

Two more guest bedrooms brings the grand total of sleeping locations to a whopping four, and you can’t help but ask the question that’s on your mind. “Do you think you’d ever want to raise a family here? You’ve got more than enough space for it.”

“Oh, definitely,” Johnny nods. “Some days, when I’m here alone, I think about how much nicer it would be to have a few of my own cubs running around…” he licks his lips, pausing to look at you. “I don’t think we’ve ever talked about whether or not you’d want to have kids.”

“But I’m sure you can guess my answer,” you smile.

Johnny nods, grinning. “I bet you’d love to be a mom, and you’d be good at it, too.”

“Thank you,” you feel heat rising in your skin. “I guess my affection for kids is hard to hide, huh?”

“It’s sweet,” he tells you, “just another one of those perfect attributes of yours.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you melt against him, enjoying the warmth of his body.

When Johnny moves away, you’re in something of a daze, and you blink up at him.

“Saved the best room for last,” he tells you, reaching down to take your hand and lead you down the hallway to the final door.

His room truly is the most impressive of them all, a master bedroom if you’ve ever seen one. With floor to ceiling windows along an entire wall, and a large space fitting a bed as well as a seating area, tv and fireplace, you think you could be very satisfied spending a lot of time here.

“Wow, John,” you let out a breath. “I can’t believe this is real, I can’t believe you actually live here-”

“So you like it?” he questions, pressing his body against your back and wrapping his arms around you, head on your shoulder. “My bear cave?”

“If this is a cave, I never want to go back to a real house,” you laugh.

“I might hold you to that,” Johnny says, voice low.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of being in his embrace. And that’s when you feel something hard beginning to press against your bum.

You swallow thickly, leaning back against him while you gain your courage. You know Johnny’s not the type to force anything on you, and something tells you that if you don’t make this first move, you might miss your chance.

Turning in his arms, you look up into Johnny’s chocolate brown eyes. Then you’re kissing him, putting all the passion that’s been brewing into the meeting of your lips. You thread your fingers through his soft hair, eager to get close to him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

You can definitely feel the outline of his cock against your abdomen now, and his hands reach down to find your hips, anchoring you to the front of his body while his tongue glides against your own.

“John,” you moan when his lips move to your neck, “I need you.”

“Yeah?” His tongue grazes your sweet spot and you shiver in his embrace, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of him.

“More than I’ve ever needed anything,” you tell him, meaning it with all of your heart.

With a groan, Johnny reaches down, grabbing your ass and prompting you to jump so you can wrap your legs around his hips. In just a few steps, he can lower you to his bed, and you expect him to follow, to press you against the mattress with his large body-

But instead, he pulls away, looking down at you with dark eyes filled with lust. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, reaching down to play with the bottom of your dress. “I’ve been dreaming about how you’ll taste on my tongue.”

Your pussy throbs at the idea, and you gaze up at him with a body alight in anticipation. “Then… then you should taste me, John.”

The bear hybrid lets out another groan, and then he’s falling to his knees on the edge of the bed, large hands grabbing at your legs to pull you closer.

His lips find your calf, and then your knee. When his face is between your thighs, his pretty ears brush your skin and make you shiver.

“Ticklish?” he grins, continuing to pepper your thighs with soft kisses.

“Very,” you confirm, reaching down to pull the skirt of your dress higher, revealing your underwear to the man between your legs.

“Shit, Bee,” Johnny says, voice shaky as he looks at your core. “You’re soaked through your panties,” at first, his words make heat rise through your body, embarrassment- but then Johnny’s taking a deep breath, and he looks up at you when he comments, “It’s so hot.”

His hands grab at your hips, and in one motion, he’s pulled your pussy to his mouth, tongue pressing against the light pink fabric of your underwear.

It feels amazing, but it’s also such a tease- you can feel the wetness of his own tongue, but it’s just out of reach.

“Johnny, please,” you whimper, pushing your hips forward, wanting more-

His nose brushes by your clit and your legs shake on his shoulders, a gasp of pleasure leaving you as you throw your head back and close your eyes.

His fingers hook in your panties, and it’s a relief when he finally pulls them down your legs, discarding them over his shoulder before diving into your pussy. This time, there’s no fabric in his way, and his tongue licks at you directly, a sensation that drives you completely wild.

“John, it’s so good-” you groan, feeling the need to praise the man who pushes his tongue into your core.

He moans in response, and the vibration has your body tingling. You could get lost in something like this, and you can already feel your mind going practically blank. All that matters is the here and now, you and Johnny.

His nose brushes your clit again and a squeal of delight escapes you, your hands flying to grab at his soft hair and fuzzy ears. “John-”

He pulls his tongue out of your wet hole, licking a full stipe of your pussy before he begins to circle your clit, and you swear you’re in heaven.

You can feel tension building in the pit of your stomach, and you know you’re not going to last long like this. No one’s ever eaten you out before with such vigor, such a need to have you like putty in his hands, and you’re more than happy to comply. In fact, you don’t think you’ll be able to help yourself.

His lips suction around your clit and your legs shake on his shoulders, your grip tightening in his hair, which only makes him groan again. You gasp at the feeling, pushing your hips up, needing more contact-

“I’m close,” you whisper, pussy throbbing as he worships your most sensitive spots.

Suddenly, you feel something else, a finger slipping into your tight hole, and you let out another sound of pleasure. One digit becomes two, and they crook up expertly, reaching a spot that has you crying out.

“That’s it,” Johnny says, pulling just off your pussy, breath teasing your entrance. “I want you to cum, Bee. Want you to cum so bad-”

You let out a strangled gasp from the praise, and when his lips return to your clit, fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, you know you’re going to be a goner.

You pull on his hair, legs shaking as you teeter on the edge of ecstasy. When Johnny growls, the vibrations are enough to send you over, and your pussy clamps down on his fingers, whole body overcome with pleasure that brings a tear to your eye due to the intensity of it all.

He continues his motions, helping you through your high until you’re wiggling in his gasp. His free hand smooths against your abdomen, keeping you still while his tongue and fingers begin to slow.

When he pulls his mouth away, you can finally take a full breath, shuddering in the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“You’re just like you were in my dreams,” Johnny tells you, pulling his fingers from your core to suck on. He lets out a groan at your taste. “Sweeter than honey.”

You shouldn’t be in love with Johnny only after three dates, but with lines like this one, you know you most definitely are. In the after haze or your orgasm, you can’t even find it within yourself to care that he has you wrapped around his finger.

“Johnny,” you whisper his name, opening your eyes to look at the man who’s now standing by the edge of the mattress. “Need you now.”

“Let me just grab condoms,” he tells you, heading for the bedside table while tugging his shirt off.

Your pussy throbs just at the sight of him. He’s so big and built and bear-like, in the best possible way-

He undoes his pants, pulling out a condom package that he opens with his sharp teeth. Part of you thinks you should be getting naked too, especially when his briefs come down to join the pants on the floor, but as you watch him roll the rubber onto his large cock, you think maybe he’d enjoy it if the dress stays on… for just a little longer.

When Johnny turns to join you on the bed, you pat the space next to you. He quirks a brow, but follows through, falling flat onto his back. You take the opportunity to mount him, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips while you adjust your skirts, letting them fall over you both delicately.

“You can take this off of me in a minute,” you tell him, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, “but you’ve always told me how much you like my dresses, so I thought-”

“You look amazing,” Johnny confirms, grabbing at your hips and urging you to grind down against his cock, which is caught between your bodies. “My cute princess.”

“My big bear,” you smile, lips moving to his neck while you continue to swivel your hips.

Johnny lets out a groan of appreciation and you kiss him again, tasting yourself on his tongue. You reach under your dress, wrapping your fingers around his cock and squeezing, which earns another moan from the man who makes such perfect sounds.

“How am I going to fit this inside of me?” you ask.

“You can go slow,” he assures you, already panting from your hand alone.

You pull away from his lips, sitting up straight and lifting yourself so you can adjust him beneath you. As you begin to lower yourself on his cock, you find yourself moaning desperately from just the head and the way it stretches you out so well.

You’ve taken some well endowed men before, and the tactic that always worked was small bounces, allowing your pussy to get used to the intrusion as you slowly work your way to fullness. However, Johnny’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had.

“Relax,” he tells you, rubbing circles on your hips through your dress. “Take your time, princess.”

But you don’t want to take your time, you want him inside of you, completely. You want to feel him everywhere, and soon, you’re fully sinking down on his cock, eagerly bending over to press your lips to his again while you both moan at the feeling.

You begin to ride him, thighs straining with the effort, but the reward is worth the muscle ache, and you get lost in the feeling of his cock splitting you open. Johnny begins to meet your thrusts, abdominal muscles flexing with effort while his tongue invades your mouth and he eats up your sweet sounds.

“As much-” Johnny breaks your kiss, gasping. “As much as I like your dress, I want to see you.”

You straighten again, easily pulling the fabric from your body so all that’s left is your bra. You begin to reach behind yourself to undo the clasp, but Johnny beats you to it, sitting up and easily removing the last piece of clothing keeping you from him.

“Shit,” Johnny groans, cupping one of your breasts with his large hand while his lips find your other nipple. His teeth graze the sensitive bud and you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair while your pussy clenches around his cock.

Johnny moans beneath you, pulling his mouth from your breasts. He looks up at you with a wildly desperate expression. “Can I take over?” he asks, breathless. “I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

“Please.” No sooner is the word out of your mouth than his hand is securing around the small of your back and he’s rolling you both, pressing you down against the mattress as his large body dwarfs your own.

“If it’s too much, let me know,” Johnny tells you, swallowing thickly while gazing down at your form. “I can be rough sometimes, even if I don’t mean to be.”

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you smile, cupping his face. “I’ve never actually said this before but… Big Bear, break my back like a glowstick.”

Johnny laughs. “You got it, Bee.”

His lips find your neck, and you close your eyes, grabbing at his strong shoulders as his hips begin to move.

Now that he’s on top, he’s somehow fucking you even deeper than before, and each glide of his cock against your inner walls has your toes curling in pleasure.

He sucks on your sweet spot, making you gasp as his movements get rougher and rougher, the bed beginning to rock from the force of his thrusts.

“John,” you whimper, body alight from the feeling of him, “Don’t stop-”

He only grins, fucking you harder, one hand lifting your leg higher on his hip so his cock can hit a spot deep inside of you that has you gasping-

“Oh my god-”

“Close already, Bee?” Johnny chuckles.

“You just feel so good,” you tell him.

You’ve never experienced anything like this, and you’re not sure if it’s due to his big cock, his ability to use it, or the fact that you actually sort of love the guy you’re literally making love to.

“That makes two of us,” Johnny says, kissing you again and taking your breath away.

You try to focus on his lips, to slow the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, but it’s hard to distract from the cock that's splitting you open like nothing ever has before.

“Shit,” your bear hybrid breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against the crook of your neck, “If you keep making sounds like that, I’m not going to last long-”

“Me neither,” you confess, although he already knew that. “John… you’ll cum with me, right?”

“How could I ever say no to you?” he groans, fingers flexing against your hips. “You’re already so tight, if you cum, I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself.”

You moan at his words, stroking your fingers across his strong back. “Please, I’m so close-”

The bear hybrid practically growls, and the sound goes straight to your core, making you throb around his cock.

“You feel so good, I’m going insane-” you continue your praise, as every time you speak, he somehow fucks you harder. You’re not quite sure where he’s getting his stamina from, but you’ll never be one to complain about it.

Johnny lets go of your hip, and then he’s pushing his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit.

A strangled moan escapes you at the contact, your eyes clenching shut as your body is suddenly teetering on the edge-

“Cum for me, Bee,” he pants against your throat, “I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your entire body tenses as pleasure erupts through you, muscles screaming at how good everything feels. Gasping sounds slip past your lips, and you hold onto Johnny’s shoulders tightly, mind completely blank as the most intense orgasm of your life overtakes you.

The bear hybrid lets out groans of his own, hips twitching as he fills the condom, fucking you through all the pleasure. When he kisses you, you’re already breathless, and his lips don’t help the situation. You’re completely overwhelmed by Johnny, and you’ve never loved anything more.

As you come down from your highs, his thrusts slow, and he stills on top of you, cock buried deep in your pussy while you both catch your breaths.

“Wow,” Johnny says, laughing a little to himself as his kisses move to your neck again. “That was even better than my dreams.”

“You’ve been dreaming about me a lot, haven’t you, Big Bear?” you grin, tracing nothings on his shoulders.

“More than I care to admit.” He swallows thickly. “And something tells me the dreams will only continue.”

“They better,” you smile up at him when he pulls away from your throat.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

With one last kiss to your lips, Johnny rolls off of you and stands up. You can’t help but watch him as he heads to the ensuite bathroom. His body is the most perfect thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing and experiencing.

You take a few breaths while you wait for him to come back, trying to ground yourself.

After the bathroom, Johnny heads into his walk-in closet, coming out a moment later in a pair of black briefs. “I got you a shirt,” he says, holding it out for you. “As much as I love that dress, I think this might be more comfortable for you.”

“Thanks, Big Bear,” you grin, taking it and putting it on. The fabric swallows you up, and you smile at how good it feels to be wearing his clothes.

“I was thinking…” he sits on the bed next to you, hand smoothing up your thigh, “I’m pretty hungry after that workout. Can I make us something to eat?”

“I’d love that,” you say, sitting up.

“Good,” he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet before finding your panties on the floor. “Here, you might want these too.”

You laugh, accepting the underwear and bending over to slip them on.

“So what’s on the menu, chef?” you ask, following him out of the bedroom.

“Well, I know it’s not much, but I was thinking avocado toast.”

“Sounds perfect,” you grin, padding down the stairs after him to the main floor.

In the kitchen, you take a seat at the large island table, watching him as he heads to the fridge and pulls out a few ingredients.

You’re once again struck by how wonderful the silences can be with John. There’s no pressure to fill them with words, and you can simply relax while you watch your Big Bear hybrid work.

His muscles are particularly enthralling as he pulls out a knife and opens the avocado, setting half of it down before he begins to peel off the skin.

“Look at you go,” you smile, “opening that bad boy like a pro.”

Johnny flashes you a look and then lets out a laugh. “I used to absolutely brutalize avocados,” he confesses. “Yuta’s dad owns a sushi restaurant in Japan, so he knows how to do all this cooking stuff. The first time he saw me open one of these he nearly had an aneurysm.”

“Was it that bad?”

“I used to leave the peel on, slice it up, and then try to scoop it out with a spoon,” Johnny grins at the memory. “So yeah, pretty bad.”

You’d never have guessed Johnny would have had such humble beginnings with knife wielding, but you suppose everyone starts somewhere.

You enjoy watching his hands while he works, laying the peeled avocado flat while he slices it in perfect chunks. He’d put bread in the oven at the start, and as he finishes up with the avocado, he pulls the pan of toast out, the colour a nice golden brown.

“Do you make this sort of thing often?” you ask.

“Often enough,” Johnny nods. “Winnie likes her avocados almost as much as her honey.” He places the green slices on the bread, using a fork to press them down before he grabs salt and pepper.

“Can’t wait to try it,” you grin.

“There’s just one last ingredient though,” Johnny tells you, finding a jar of honey sitting on the counter. You watch as he drizzles the golden liquid on top of the avocado, and you can’t help but find the bear hybrid incredibly charming. “There we go,” he smiles, putting all the pieces onto a plate before coming around the table to join you on the bar stools.

“Cheers,” you say, holding up one slice for Johnny to gently touch with his own.

“To the bears, the bees, and the honey that connects them,” he muses.

“To us,” you agree, picking up on the metaphor.

You know that there’s technically nothing special about avocado toast, but it’s still one of the best things you’ve eaten in ages, and you find yourself groaning after the first bite.

“Is it really that good?” Johnny laughs, watching your expressions with a smile.

“Better than good,” you confirm. “If running a club doesn’t work out, you could always be a chef.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Johnny nods with a smile. “You haven’t even tried my barbecue yet.”

“Something tells me you know how to handle your meat.”

The bear laughs at your comment, and you realize too late the sexual connotation of your words.

“I didn’t mean-” you go to correct yourself, but you end up face palming instead, letting out a groan.

“You’re too cute,” Johnny assures you, resting a hand on your knee. “Hey, listen, if you want me to drive you home, I can, but… how would you feel about staying the night?”

“Really?” you blink at him.

He nods. “Really.”

“I think I’d love that,” you admit.

“Perfect, then it’s settled. Mi casa es su casa.”

You smile at the notion of his house being your house. “Since when did you speak Spanish?”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me.” His thumb rubs circles on your thigh.

“Well,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, “I can’t wait to find out more.”

Johnny had closed the blinds last night, so when you wake up in a literal man cave, you kind of want to see the sun. However, Johnny looks so peaceful lying next to you, his plump lips just slightly parted, his fluffy ears twitching from whatever is happening in his dream land- and you think it would be a shame to wake him so abruptly to the light.

You take the time to appreciate him, wondering how you ever got so lucky to end up where you are now. You’d always had a crush on him, but you’d never expected it to be anything more.

You’re so happy that he’d felt the same way you had. If he’d never made a move and asked you out, well- you don’t want to think about that.

When you shift ever so slightly, Johnny’s eyes open, and he squints at you, letting out a groan. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice gruff from sleep.

“I’m perfect,” you tell him. “Are you waking up now?”

“It’s too early,” Johnny grunts, pulling you closer and burrowing his face in your neck.

“I guess I’m used to waking up at this time,” you note.

“Do you have to go? Is there work?”

“I’m thinking of calling in sick, that is… if you want me to spend the day with you.”

“Fuck, yes please.” His breath is hot against your throat.

“I’m just going to step out to make the call, and when I come back, do you mind if I open these blinds? I know this is your bear cave and all, but if you’re going to sleep a little longer, I’d love some light to read a book or something.”

Johnny only groans, but you take it as an affirmative as you untangle yourself from his grasp.

Five minutes later, the room is lit with sunshine and you’re slipping into bed next to him again. Your family has always been extra close with the owner of Queen B’s Honey, so calling in had been simple, and you’re excited about what your day with Johnny will bring.

You’ve found a book to read, some fiction off Johnny’s bookshelf, and when you get under the covers, Johnny is quick to cuddle up next to you again. “Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, voice as groggy as ever.

“Of course, Big Bear,” you smile, adjusting to allow him to curl up next to you. He lets out a deep breath once he’s settled, and you smooth your hands through his hair, gently scratching at the base of his ear.

Johnny lets out a deep groan. “Feels good.”

He falls asleep just seconds later, and you continue stroking him while you read.

Time flies by, and you’re not sure how long you’ve been reading when Johnny finally wakes up again. He lets out a soft groan, cuddling closer to your side. “Good morning.”

“Hi, sleepy bear.”

“I had dreams about you,” he says softly.

“You did?”

“Uh huh,” his hand strokes by your thigh.

“What happened in your dream?” you press, gently scratching his fluffy ear.

Johnny lets out a laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Was it something bad?”

“Something good,” he confirms. “It involved a few cubs running around.”

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest. “Wow, John, I didn’t know you were really thinking that far ahead in the future for us.”

“I can’t help it,” he confesses, rolling onto his back to look up at you. “I know we’ve only had a few dates, but… well, I’ve been into you for months. It’s at a point where I don’t even really look at other girls, and I’m fine if you don’t want to be exclusive or anything-”

“Who said I don’t want to be exclusive?”

A lazy smile covers Johnny’s face, and he sits up, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. “You really want to give this a try?”

“I’d be stupid not to, don’t you think?”

“I mean… I’ve met girls who will only see me as a hybrid, as someone to mess around with for a little while before finding a human partner again. I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t see a future for us.”

“Oh, John,” you shake your head, “I’m not like those other girls.”

“I guess not,” he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

You feel so blessed to be able to give this a shot with Johnny, a real shot. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and as he pulls you into his arms, you have a feeling that everything is going to work out better than either of you could possibly imagine.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you've made it to the end and want something else to read, check out Hyuck's hybrid fic here, or more of Nikki's work on her masterlist here

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🔮 preview. “Give me a sec and I’ll pull off to a residential street,” he tells you, flicking his turn signal on. “It will take a minute or two longer to get home, but something tells me you won’t mind.” He’s literally the perfect man, and you’re working to get his zipper undone the moment you’re off the main road. Johnny lifts his hips, helping you tug his jeans down just enough to get at your prize.

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, blowing Johnny while he drives, hand job, sex outside in the forest on a car, car sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, quickie, etc… I pet names: (hers) Bee, Princess. (his) Big Bear, John.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2k I teaser wc. 350

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader

bonus

Going to a baseball game is one of your favourite family outings. Between you, Johnny, his sister, and his sister’s husband, the four adults can handle the four cubs that run around you like excitable little rascals at all times.

Hotdogs and popcorn are cheap, and Winnie, as the oldest of the group of kids, spends the whole game explaining what’s happening to your sons, who are much too young to care about baseball.

You and Johnny sit on either side of Winnie, each holding a wiggling three year old twin in your arms. Winnie’s mom and her dad are in the row just in front of you, their own two year old in their grasp.

“So now,” the nearly ten year old Winnie explains to the toddler in your arms, “the bases are fully loaded, and the game is almost over, so the guy with the big bum has to make this hit-”

Johnny murmurs the name of the player up to bat, but Winnie ignores him. She has names for each man on the pitch, and it just so happens that the man swinging has the biggest butt.

The crack of the ball against the bat alights the stadium in cheers as everyone at their bases begin to run, and Johnny stands, holding his toddler while he watches. His baseball cap is backward, but it’s still clear by the jersey he’s wearing that he’s a home pitch superfan. “Go, go, go!” he screams. “Run, butt guy, run!”

You love him, and your perfect family.

You stand too, as this last run of the game is important to your evening plans. If your home team wins, Johnny’s sister will take your twins for the night and give you and Johnny some alone time. However, if her away team wins, you and Johnny are on babysitting duty.

“Go, butt guy! Go!” Winnie cheers, and you find it almost comical how the little girl has no clue that she’s helping cheer on the odds of her sweet Uncle John getting laid.

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beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

Note

Tbh I'm starting to suspect that most of my asks for you are just going to be me affectionately yelling at you.

Because you've given me so many ideas???? And now I'm faced with the constant "LEMME GIVE THIS READER A FRIEND PLEASE LET ME BE HER FRIEND"

Dukedom AU? Congrats, Reader now has a friend who's father was Riley's and Price's general and while she has no doubts about Reader's husband, they haven't seen each other since Reader's parents practically forbid it in their teens and- actually, isn't Duke Riley still friends with Duke Price? And unmarried? ... She has a letter to write. Short and simple should do it. (And maybe her and Reader resume their queerplatonic relationship- the Friend is devoted to the Reader like a cat returns to the same home that lets it chase the rats)

Shifter AU? Here, Reader's friend is a demigod (Zeus' kid who begged for Hera's forgiveness and bound herself to the goddess in blood and ink) who works nights and lets it known exactly how she feels about her friend being taken without letting her know first via lightening storm over the whole fucking city until she knows Reader is safe. (And maybe she's slowly becoming a minor deity herself. Maybe Soap gets a whiff of hair bleach when she's pissed, or tattoo ink when she's cackling, or antiseptic when she's offering comfort).

Fertility God AU? The deity of death visits sometimes, calm and quiet and peaceful- a reminder that it is dying that's painful, while death itself is nothingness. She never picks the plants herself, merely grabs the flowers Reader picked already and uses that to tap noses. Okay I might actually just take the idea of 141 serving their war god and the war god being slowly brought to his knees and going a whole other direction with it.

Just. Let me give these soft Readers Fierce Friends who'll take one look at these military men and be like "Bitch you still have an Achilles tendon, I will cut you down if you hurt them." And maybe that's a turn-on for a couple of them, idk it could happen.

So. Many. Ideas. And I'm like, buzzing with insecurity about writing them because they weren't mine to start with and tbh Tumblr is really the only way I know these characters? And also I appreciate it if you made it this far through my word vomit thank you for your time and have a good day!

As long as the yelling comes from a place of love who am I to complain? 😌💕

Also omg yes every reader needs a friend. A good, dependable friend that lessens the angst just a little.

Also omg yes?? If Friend manages to even convince Simon to marry her, with the promise that she wants nothing romantic with him just a way to be close to you again, then she’d also solve the rumors that still spread about Simon’s unmarried status even with the general fear of him. And you get your darling Friend close again! Win-win, and the 141 get to see you exceptionally happy and excited.

Friend looked away for just a short while and then returns to learn your shitty boyfriend has cheated on you with your other shitty friend she never liked, you aren’t anywhere in your home and you haven’t gone to work and you have been kidnapped by some pack of shifters- personally, anyone would be fucking pissed too ngl. Friend probably smells the loveliest when she’s with you, though, when she sees you happy at last.

Now the Fertility god au I’m gonna need more from you babes you can’t just leave me hanging here 👁️👁️ /nf

And yes. Like I said all readers deserve a fierce friend it’s not a law but it should be and yes to that too i need them to blur the lines between friends and lovers just a lil too. Life’s more that way, me thinks.

Also no please don’t worry, fandom spaces are shared and new writings are always welcome 😭🫶🏻 i haven’t laid a single finger on any of the games im just rawdogging it too dw so you should absolutely write if you want to without fear!! Thank you for this wonderful ask I loved reading it!

#noona.asks #cod x reader #cod #cod x you #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x you #cod imagines #poly!141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly!141 #poly 141

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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

Text

watching you with wonder

joel miller x reader joel claims to have heard something interesting. too bad he keeps insisting he needs more information before he can tell you | 5.4k a/n: same universe as come care about me but not necessary to read that one first! joel is soft, this is my version of him where he and ellie heal and he gets to have a life etc etc etc | domesticity, post-part i jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip but good thing you are too, a fair amount of kissing, fluff, softness, peace and all that good stuff. part 3 here! series masterlist here.

It's been a long day. The supply run you'd been dreading went off without a hitch but you were out of the gate at sun-up and in the saddle for most of the morning and afternoon. Your legs are sore, your back is sore, and you're dirty from a day outside the walls.

You haven't seen Joel since this morning. Not unusual, not by any means. Most days you're both doing something in town, occasionally one of you out on patrol. You're partial to the plant work and Joel likes to chop wood or check out houses that need upgrades with Tommy. But after a day like today you want nothing more than to go home and complain about how much you miss cars while Joel works the knots out of your shoulders.

But tonight is Festival Night. Nothing big, just a dance at the barn that serves as the community center with music and drinks and food. And Joel, despite his insistence that he's Jackson's resident grump, will be there, because Tommy will have asked him to go and he doesn't like disappointing his brother. And, though he'll never admit it even to you, he enjoys community events. He gets to see the people he loves having a nice time and feeling safe.

So you head from the stables to the main hall, not bothering to stop at home. Jackson seems to be lit up extra special, the air a little lighter due to the laughter and music brightening the night. The noise becomes almost overwhelming when you open the door and slide inside, dropping your pack against the wall. It's much warmer in here and you unbutton your coat as you make your way through the crowd, waving to people as you go.

Joel is here somewhere but you don't try too hard to spot him. You know he'll find you. Someone calls your name and you pivot on your heel to find Ellie waving at you from a...poker table?

"Wanna join?" she asks once you walk over. Next to her is Tommy, who looks significantly less excited than she does. "I'm teaching Tommy how to play poker. Oh, sorry, I'm fucking smoking Tommy at poker."

"I know how to play, you little shit," Tommy growls. "Who taught you? This isn't poker, this is a fuckin' massacre."

Ellie cackles and tips her chair back so she's balancing on the back legs.

"I'll pass this round," you tell her. "Looks like you've got him handled."

"You just want to find Joel." She looks at you in that uncanny way of hers like she knows all of your secrets. But this is one you have no problem admitting.

You smile at her. "Seen him?"

"Now that you're here I'm sure he'll slink out of whatever corner he stuck himself in," Tommy grumbles. "Girl, you sure you ain't countin' cards?"

You leave them to it and wander over to the bar. Astrid pours you a glass of something amber. You take a sip and let the burn warm your throat, your stomach. The music behind you picks up and there's laughter and you turn to see people pairing up and flocking to the floor.

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds that mean peace, safety, home. It never gets old and you never quite get used to it. You inhale deep and -- ah, yes. There it is. A smile spreads across your face as you breathe in wood glue, gunpowder, the soap you make at home. Your heart beats a little faster, even after all this time.

"Hi," you say, opening your eyes. Joel stands in front of you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass similar to your own. His hair curls at his collar, edges still a little wet from the shower he must have taken before coming here. His shirt is rolled to his elbows, his jacket clearly discarded somewhere. Your gaze trails up his chorded forearms, his watch securely in place as always. This is what you've called his "nice" shirt, a deep green that makes the grey of his beard all the more striking and brings out his eyes.

Eyes that settle on you in a way that sends heat up your spine.

"Howdy," he says. "You just get here?"

"Like you weren't watching the door for me," you tease. He shrugs and reaches for you, his free hand curling around your hip to tug you close for just a few moments. Joel presses his lips to your cheek lightly, his beard scratching your skin as he pulls away and settles at your side, arm resting on the bar behind you.

"Well, I ain't seen you all day," he reminds you. As if you could forget. Every second you're not looking at him you sort of wish you were. There aren't many good things left in your life -- all of them are in this town, now -- and you tend to hold on to the ones you still have with both hands. Joel, despite the fact that he'd argue with you over it, is your good thing. Your best thing.

"Miss me?"

"Dumb question," he mutters.

His fingers brush against the back of your bicep, warm through your jacket. "How was the run?"

"Easy. Long." You take a sip of your drink. It's still warming but doesn't measure up to the solid warmth of the man beside you. "I came straight here."

"That would explain why you smell like shit," he drawls. You smack his chest. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rude."

Joel watches the crowd and you watch him. That's how it usually goes with you two. You figure he's watching for threats, for any sign of something going wrong. It's a habit most folks here find hard to break. He's watching Ellie, who has left the poker table behind, twirl some of the children around with Dina, he's watching Tommy try to teach a few drunk guys how to square dance like he does every Festival. Joel curls his hand around your shoulder and you lean back into the touch.

On a night like tonight when joy is more contagious than the fungus spreading through the rotting world, Joel loosens up a little. It's a good look on him and it only ever means good things for you -- he laughs more, he touches you more. But most importantly you know he lets life in. He lets that knot you know is in his chest, the one made of fear and loss and survival and all of the horrible fucked up things he's seen and done, he lets it loosen even just a bit. He lets himself feel the good things, too. How much the people in this town respect him, care about him. How much they appreciate him. How much they love him, how much you love him.

You look at him in the soft light of the barn. There's a tug to his mouth that you know.

He looks smug. It's a nice look on him, a relaxed one. He looks too handsome for his own good. And though you love him, love how he's enjoying the night, like hell you're going to let him stand there and get away with whatever he's cooking up.

"Joel Miller, why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"No reason," he says. He takes another sip of his drink, side-eyeing you over the rim. This man.

You tap the heel of your boot against his. "Don't make me beg."

His eyes flash but he turns into your space, the solid shape of him curling around you as well as his arm. In another world, in another life, he could be a handsome man picking you up at a bar.

"I heard somethin'," he says, voice low. "Somethin'...interestin'."

"Really?" You look around the barn as if the object of his gossip will materialize in front of you. "Tell me."

He leans back and you have to stop yourself from following. "Don't think so."

"Joel."

This man can be such a shit when he wants to be.

He holds the hand carrying his glass up in surrender, the brown liquor sloshing close to the rim. "Hey now, don't go shootin' the messenger."

"I can't because he won't tell me the message."

"S'not anything worth tellin' just yet," he drawls. "I need a little more intel. Y'know, make it worth your while."

You sigh, hamming it up a bit by thunking your forehead to his collar. Joel huffs a laugh and fully drapes his arm across your shoulders, warm and solid.

It's all fun but you know there's a note of truth to it. Joel can lie better than most people but he doesn't lie to you. "Fine. You get away with it for now."

The song changes to something old and slow, something you recognize but don't quite remember the name of.

"Only if you dance with me," you say. You swallow the last of your drink and push off the bar, sliding out from under his arm. You hold your hand out to him and wiggling your fingers. "It's only fair."

He sighs like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he is, sometimes. But right now his cheeks are a little flushed from the drink and your flirting and you want to see how far you can take it.

"Unless I smell too much like shit," you goad. You don't actually think he'll go for it. Joel doesn't dance. It feels like the kind of good time, the kind of joy that is forever stuck in the past, left behind twenty odd years ago. Honestly, you think he'll just drag you home and have his way with you in your warm bed.

But he manages to surprise you.

Joel throws back his drink and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes your skin.

"S'pose it is," he says. "You don't smell that bad."

A delighted laugh spills from you. He leads you to the already-crowded dance floor, pulling you close with a hand on your back. You rest your arm on his broad shoulder and hook your thumb in his collar.

"Not so bad, is it?" you say. Your faces are so close you're practically cheek to cheek. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, his beard a little prickly against your cheek.

"Could be worse." You and Joel gently sway and you toy with the ends of his hair. Over his shoulder you can see Dina and Ellie dancing, arms wrapped around each other tight. You close your eyes and match your breaths to Joel's.

"We should do this more often," you say. "Bet they'd let you play guitar at the next festival if you wanted."

Joel hums.

"Don't forget you have to deliver the firewood to the school tomorrow." He presses his hand to your back and pulls you even closer. "Are you listening to me?"

"Mhm."

"Joel --" Your eyes fly open and you try to pull away to goad him but he holds you steadily against him.

"Hush," he says, fingers squeezing yours. "I'm enjoyin' the moment."

You allow it.

___

The gossip Joel mentioned is in the back of your mind but you know he'll tell you when he's satisfied with his information gathering or whatever the fuck he's up to. Sure, it's silly, maybe even pointless but you like to think of it as a display of the trust you have in each other. You trust Joel with your life and you've put that into practice, watched him bloody his knuckles for the ones he loves. You also trust him with your heart, your body, your mind. There's no part of you that his hands haven't touched, haven't loved in the jagged, intense way of his.

Plus you enjoy seeing him pleased with himself, which you know he will be once he has the whole story to tell you. It's not a mood you see on him often.

You finally have a free night and Ellie asks you to come over to try out a new video game Jesse found for her on patrol. Joel waves you off when you offer to stay in with him instead.

"Means I'll get some peace and quiet to finish my book," he grumbles, handing you your coat even though you're walking across the yard. He's already peeled off his boots and looks half-awake in the dim light of your entryway, glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater.

"More like you're going to sit in bed and fall asleep reading without me talking to keep you awake."

He sends you off with an eye roll and a soft kiss which you turn into two more, just because. Maybe a few years ago he'd sit in the chair downstairs and wait for you to come home. He does like to play his guitar on the porch when it's not too cold, keep an eye on things. But you'll be with Ellie just out back and it's been a long week. It's no small point of pride that, with the help of your reassurance and persistent care and his own conviction, Joel allows himself to relax a little. "Have fun."

You do. Ellie and Joel have a history that is complex and tender, so much so that sometimes it's too much for both of them. After it seemed like she was open to it, you've tried to make sure you and her have a relationship all your own. She's smart and funny and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. You feel lucky to be one of them.

But she still annihilates your ass when it comes to video games.

"You know," she says, cracking her knuckles after yet another defeat. "It's embarrassing as shit how you literally lived in a time where you could play these like, whenever you wanted. And yet it's me, who was born after the world ended, who keeps winning."

You make sure to look unamused. "Whatever." You stand, stretching out your spine with your arms above your head and yawn. "It's teenage luck." You have no idea how this girl stays up so late all the time.

"I guess I'm just good at everything."

"Oh, you sure about that?" She hands you your coat and tugs on the strings of her sweatshirt. "I've seen you in a kitchen. You might want to rethink that one."

"Psh," she says, waving you off. "Who needs to cook, anyway?"

You slide into your boots and shake your head. "I'm actually shocked Dina puts up with you."

"Hey, fuck you!" she cries, though she's hiding a smile. "No insulting me in my own home. It's Joel's fault, anyway. He can't cook either."

You snort. "Don't I know it." She grins at you fully, the one you call her shark-tooth smile, and you grin back. "Thanks for this, kiddo. I had fun."

"Yeah, maybe one day you'll win." You tug her in for a quick hug which she allows before squirming away. "Alright, alright. Go make sure he didn't burn down the house without you, or something."

It's late, late enough that you feel yourself getting more tired with each step back to the porch. Joel left the back door unlocked for you. You latch the deadbolt behind you and peel off your outer layers in the dark. A quick glance in the kitchen tells you Joel put your stuff from dinner away and is probably in bed. He's left out your mugs, ready for the morning, and the list he's been making of things you need to do around the house before it snows. You love to see the pieces of your life on display like this -- signs that this is a home.

You don't bother being quiet when you climb up the stairs because you know he'll be pissed if you don't wake him to let him know you're home. The bedroom light is on but when you actually go in you see he's in bed with his book in his lap, glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes are closed and his bare chest rises slowly.

He's probably only half-asleep, probably heard you come in and decided it was safe enough to shut his eyes until you say something. So you get ready for bed quickly, tugging on soft clothes and brushing your teeth before creeping over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge of it, resting your hand on his thigh under the covers.

"Joel," you say softly. "Joel, are you asleep?"

"Yes," he grumbles. His eyes flutter open, the piercing grey a little clouded with tiredness. He reaches for his glasses and pulls them from his face a bit clumsily. "You okay? You n'Ellie have fun?"

"We did. She's so good at video games it's a little scary." You pluck the frames from his hand and fold them, setting them on his bedside table with his book. He grunts and pushes himself up a little more in bed, his leg pressing against your tailbone through the blankets. It's a real show of your restraint that you don't run your hands over the golden and hairy expanse of his chest, the broad line of his shoulders. Instead you reach for his face and he lets you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to hide his amusement as you trail your fingers through his hair. Just being here with him makes you a little sleepy, your body catching up with your mind at how you always feel safest when he's in the room with you. "S'cold, though. I think we might need to put some more insulation in the shed for her."

"Alright," he says. Joel wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your palm to his cheek but quickly flinches away. "Christ," he mutters. "Your hands are cold." He encases both of your hands in his and rubs slowly, throughly.

"Let me get in bed, then." You make no effort to move.

Joel blows on your fingers and, in a move that's tender even for him, presses his lips to their tips. "I ain't holdin' you here."

"Sarcasm," you say. "And Ellie claims you're not funny." Joel scoffs and you laugh, rising from his side of the bed and making your way around to yours. Joel flicks back the covers and you slide in, facing him.

"Light off?" he asks. You nod. He shuffles around to flip the switch and then settles into his side with a groan. It's dark but you know his face with your eyes closed, let alone in the moonlight of your bedroom. The gash on the bridge of his nose, the scruff of his greying beard, the nicks along his cheeks and temples. The age spots, the wrinkles, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, these days more from smiles and laughter than stress and worry. Or so you like to think.

"Got any gossip for me yet?"

Joel huffs. "Not quite."

"Jooooooel," you whine, scooting closer. You hook a leg over his and slide your hand over his stomach, fingers catching on the hair above the waistband of his sleep pants. He makes a noise deep in his throat but otherwise allows it.

"I ain't givin' you half-assed information," he says. "It'll be worth the wait."

With Joel, it always is. You consider dragging it out a little more but you're cold and tired and he's so warm and you barely saw him at all today. "Alright," you say. You pull yourself even closer under the covers, dragging your nose over the hollow of his throat, his beard a delicious scratch on your skin. Your hand curls around his hip and he reaches for you on instinct, warm, callused palms sliding under your sleep shirt to press into your bare skin.

He huffs a tired laugh, chest rumbling with amusement. "What're you up to?"

"You're warm," you say into his skin.

"And you're handsy."

You trail your lips up to his and press them to the corner of his mouth. "You love it."

"Guess I do," Joel says. He catches you in a lazy, slow kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part them. He licks into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world and you let him. His nose presses against yours and you sigh even further into the embrace, pressing as close as you can, as if you could crawl into him and stay there forever. Any cold lingering in your bones is dispelled by Joel's touch, by the thigh he wedges between your legs. This could turn into something more, and you love when it does, but tonight it's just about being close. His hand trails up your side to cup your face as the kisses get lazier, sleepier. You're slotting his bottom lip between yours when he pulls back and --

Yawns in your face.

He looks a little surprised and then frowns. You laugh and smooth the crease between his brows before kissing him once more.

"Jesus, Joel," you say. "Bedtime."

"Was sleepin' fine before you got here," he grumbles, but in the same breath he wraps his arm around you and tugs you with him as he turns onto his back so your head lays on his chest. You match your breaths to his. He presses a kiss to your hair.

___

Two nights later you wake to an empty bed.

You sleepily trail your hand through the sheets and find they still carry Joel's warmth. He must have gotten up a few minutes ago. You force your eyes to open but don't see a light in the bathroom, find no shadow in your eyesight. You can hear his voice in your head saying go back to sleep, s'nothin' but you know better than to listen to him when it comes to this. It's not like you'll be able to until you know he's okay, anyway.

So you wrap the blanket from the foot of your bed around yourself and shuffle through the house and down the stairs.

"Joel?" you call quietly.

"Kitchen," he replies, a warm grumble in the still of the night. You didn't even look at the clock when you got out of bed but it must be late.

He sits in the dark at your small kitchen table, eyes fixed on Ellie's garage out back. He's put a shirt on. Of course. Nightmare. This is where he always sits after he has one. His hands are wrapped around his mug. Based on the smell it's chamomile tea -- the only time he'll drink it instead of coffee is on nights like tonight. He had no idea it even grew in the greenhouses here until you presented him with a jar of it for Ellie back when you were still tiptoeing around whatever was between you. Those days are long gone.

"You okay?" You keep your voice hushed. It's rare these days that he'll want to be alone. You're the only one who gets to see him like this other than Ellie. It took a while but now Joel lets you comfort him, he lets you hold him together when he needs it.

He tears his eyes from the window to meet yours, chin tipped up as he gets a good look at you in the dark.

"M'alright." You take a few more steps into the kitchen and he frowns. "You cold?" He reaches for you with one hand, beckoning you close. You step into his space and he wraps one arm around you, leans his head against your soft stomach. You untangle from the blanket slightly to run your fingers through his hair. The touch is as grounding for him as it is for you.

"What can I do?" you ask him, ignoring his question.

You can feel the warmth of his palm through the blanket and your sleep shirt. "This is just fine. Just need a minute."

"You wanna take that minute on the couch?" He grunts his assent and you step back to allow him to get up. He leaves his mug on the table but catches your hand to pull you with him.

Joel sighs when he settles into the worn cushions, knees spread wide and head tipped back as be breathes. He doesn't look any more tired than usual but you can tell he's still holding onto whatever sent him down here.

You press into his side, legs curled underneath you. His arm settles heavily on across your shoulders and you rest a palm on his knee.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turns his head to face you and his nostrils flare as he frowns.

"Nothin' new," he sighs. "A pretty old one, actually. Haven't had it in a while. 'Bout stuff from when we were on the road."

If he wants to say more he will. You don't know what it's like for him to worry about Ellie -- you only know how youworry. Once the sun rises he'll probably trudge over and knock on her door, ask if she wants to go for a ride. She'll complain about being woken up but she'll agree because she knows him, too. She'll see the tension at the edges of his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. There have been nights when you come downstairs to find her sleeping on the couch, too, just because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

You lean your head on his shoulder and breathe with him. He picks up your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it slowly, as if he doesn't even know he's doing it.

Sleep is a near thing when Joel eventually clears his throat. "I got that gossip for you." His chest rumbles and you perk up, pulling back to look at him. His eyes have a bit more spark, a bit less of the far-away look he had when you came down the stairs.

"Oh, do you now? Finally?"

"You're just impatient," he says. "Hadn't heard directly from either of 'em so I wasn't sure. But I tracked it down and got it from the source."

"You sound like a detective from one of those old shows. Got it from the source," you say, pitching your voice low and imitating his drawl.

He manages to look unimpressed. "I don't have to tell you."

"Joel."

"Alright, alright. Well, it's about Wendy and Fred."

You sit up. "The couple that met on your group patrol?" It's something you and Ellie tease him about -- his accidental tendency to play matchmaker. Sometimes he leads group patrols for new folks or younger community members who are now old enough to join the roster. You think he probably enjoys scaring the shit out of them a little but he's also good at it, teaches them well and makes sure they're safe. Around the time you met you'd heard about a couple who met on a patrol and hit it off. It's happened a few more times with Joel's groups but Wendy and Fred are the only ones who have stayed together.

"Mhm. Word is they're gettin' married."

You gasp. This is very far from what you expected him to tell you. A lot of the gossip you and Joel share is about people breaking up or sleeping together or moving out of Jackson. Sometimes it's petty theft or in-fighting at the council. But this? This is downright romantic.

"Married?" It's not uncommon these days but most people don't bother. But most importantly it means one thing -- there's going to be a party. "We haven't had a wedding in...forever," you say wistfully.

"Been a few years, yeah," Joel agrees. "Folks'll be excited."

"How did you find out?"

He shifts on the couch a little and you take control of your clasped hands, holding one of his in both of yours as you trace the lines on his palm, the veins that go up his arm while he talks.

"Heard from one of the guys at the festival that Fred was lookin' for a ring. Wanted to get the word out to some supply runs but without her knowin'. But I wasn't sure, since I hadn't seen him in a while. Then I saw Wendy at the pantry few days ago and she looked real happy. I didn't pry but asked her how things were and she was chipper as hell."

"And that wasn't enough to tell me?"

He squeezes your shoulder.

"Yesterday Fred cornered me when I was headin' home and told me flat out. Thanked me for some fuckin' reason and said Wendy agreed to marry him. Kid looked like he was gonna throw up, he was so excited."

Joel's voice is warm. "You are such a romantic when you want to be," you tell him.

He smirks. "Heard that before."

"It'll be nice to have a celebration. If we're invited, you're dancing with me again."

"We better fuckin' be invited," he grumbles. "I introduced them."

"So you admit to being a matchmaker?"

He huffs. "Nah," he says, a little softer. "Dumb luck. S'how you get good things these days."

You shift under his arm a little bit. "Maybe," you reply. "I think we've earned a few of those things."

Joel drags a hand down his face. It's a motion that usually means he's chewing on what to say next. You spare him.

"This --" you gesture between the two of you "--and all of this --" you wave your hand at the room, the house "-- is more than I knew I could want. You, this house, that feisty, wonderful girl out back. This whole town. Waking up every morning and not dreading another day on this hellish planet. I didn't know this existed anymore, Joel, let alone that it was possible for me. And I think we've earned it."

He's quiet for a few breaths. "C'mere," he says softly. You don't know exactly what he means but he pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, his arm firm around your hips. It could be a heated position, often is, but here it's just to be close. You catch yourself on his shoulders and drag your hands up to his cheeks. You hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the soft, forever-bruised skin under his eyes.

"You sure got a way with words," he says thickly, gaze heavy. "Don't know what I did to deserve this but I ain't gonna question it."

You wrap your arms around him and properly embrace him. He presses his palms to your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder. Your breathing syncs up and you swear your heartbeats do, too. Your whole body, your whole being tuned itself to Joel a long time ago. You'd do everything you've done twice over to get here.

As if he hears the desperate devotion of your thoughts, Joel pulls back so he can lean up for a kiss. It's more intense than you expected it to be, like he's trying to tell you something with the press of his mouth. You know what he's trying to tell you -- you always do. Joel is better at showing you how he feels than telling you.

He suckles your lower lip and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat and you swallow it. You could touch him forever and never get enough. The firm planes of his back, the knot of tension always present in his shoulders. The scratch of his beard, the press of his nose against yours. You want to stitch yourself to him so that you never have to let go.

"S'your turn," Joel grumbles against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

"For somethin' juicy."

It's a funny word coming from his mouth and it makes you laugh. His arms tighten around you and he drags his nose down your neck and breathes deep. You can get some gossip for him. You'd do much worse without being asked. Sometimes you think there are no limits to what you'd do for this man. It's a big thought, a dangerous thought, one that's suited to the world you live in now. You don't mind it.

"I'll get you something good, Joel Miller. I promise."

"I know you will," he says. "I trust you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

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𝔩𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔥: 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤

𓆙 crazy! lilith! reader x eddie

𓆙 same au as this that will now be referred to as the lilith au

𓆙 summary: the beginning of how eddie met lilith. based on this ask from @serasvictoria “Loved Lilith crazy reader (so good!) and I’d like to read about the moment where Eddie first went “fuck, I’m into this.”” hope i did you proud 🥹💋 i like to think eddie met her and couldn’t stop thinking about her.

𓆙 tw: 18 + only, smut p in v unprotected, violence, blood, demon themes, soul mates connecting. nicknames, weed, drinking mentioned. both eddie and reader are over 18. Billy makes an appearance 🙄

𓆙 3.9k words

The bar stunk like it always did. BO seeping out from the uniforms of the guys fresh from their shift at the plant mixed with spilled keg beer. The stench wafted through the dank air creating a reeking stench that was custom for the Hideout, keeping the well lined pockets of Hawkins rich away from the hole-in-the-wall bar.

Eddie was in a mood tonight, and his friends could feel it. By nature, he was accustomed to breaking up fights with the drunks, offering whatever asshole with a clenched fist a joint if they would just leave it be. The Hideout was like a home to him, and he hated any sort of disturbance to the small peace the shitty bar had to offer.

But tonight? He didn’t know he would be the one to start a fight, especially not after seeing you walk through the front doors.

He had seen you there before. Always dressed like you deserved to be somewhere better, somewhere that didn’t smell like armpits and unwashed balls. Lips painted in a deep color but from the shitty lighting he never could tell if it was purple or black.

He watched from a distance as you shrugged off one piss drunk guy after another, each leaving with their tails tucked between their legs, muttering shit like crazy bitch, she’s fucking insane did’ya hear what she said to me? Eddie stood by and laughed, admiring the mysterious girl who wouldn’t give anyone a chance.

Setting up equipment last week Eddie’s eyes were trained on the time, having it down to a science on when you’d show up, and there you were. Rolling your eyes to the catcalls from the old timers and going straight to the bar, a glinted smile on your lips as you purred your order, one he had already memorized from watching you show up week after week. Eddie leaned back and hollered to Jeff, asking if he knew who you were.

Jeff said what he thought your name was, claiming you worked with his sister at the Hideaway, the diner that served beer and home style food, you were a senior maybe? But neither of them had seen you around before.

You were a mystery to him, and he was hooked. He looked for you in classes, down the orange and green brick painted hallways. Fuck, he even went to the Hideaway but could never find you there. It was almost as if you only existed in his dreams or at the Hideout.

Corroded Coffin wasn’t performing tonight, instead the four guys leaned over the sticky table in the back corner, their table, tossing quarters into a shot glass and shooting the shit. Well three of the four were having a good time, the other was quiet, brooding behind dark eyes.

You had walked in like you always did, 10 o’clock on the dot, only this time you weren’t alone.

Billy Hargrove? Really?

Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes, how fucking cliche could you be? Finding the first swinging dick in Hawkins with a loud car and immediately going on a date with him. Eddie was disgusted, but more so, jealous.

Hours ticked by, and beer after beer, one gut rot shot after another, Eddie’s jealousy brewed into pure hatred. His dark eyes bored into you, but you didn’t even notice.

He hated you. Hated your stupid smile, the way you kept giggling at Billy’s jokes. just wait til you see him naked, sweetheart, the laughing won’t stop there, he thought to himself.

Loathing the way your black painted nails curled into Billy’s denim jacket, no doubt he probably fed you a line about how he works out. Eddie’s eyes roll back again and he breathes heavily through his nose, sucking the last shot of whiskey through his teeth, letting the bitter taste melt on his tongue and burn with each fiery drop down his throat.

Trying to keep himself busy, he finds himself flicking open his switchblade, pressing the top of the blade into the black leather cushion, wishing it was Billy’s neck instead. He can’t hear what anyone is saying behind him, didn’t even notice that Gareth was talking about learning a new song. His full attention was on you.

Billy gets up from his bar stool, the noise from the drag of the legs on the floor scratches against Eddie’s skin, adding insult to injury. He shoots you a wink and makes his way to the back towards the bathroom.

Watching him disappear into the dark lit corner, Eddie stands on wobblier legs than he would have liked. Boots heavy and clunky as he stalks his way over to you. Not at all knowing what he was going to do or say, going on pure adrenaline.

Your perfume hits him first, a warm note of vanilla mixed with a tobacco hint of camels. The red top you’re wearing is cut low, showcasing your pretty neck and plunging deep into the cleavage of your tits. A black leather jacket sits on your shoulders, the zippers shining with the warm light.

Your eyelashes bat at him as he approaches your table, but you still don’t look his way, and he stands next to you like he’s known you for years, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“I’ll take another one of these,” you say, pushing your empty glass towards him with your middle finger, “make it a strong one.”

“I don’t work here,” Eddie scoffs, moving your drink out of his way and placing an arm on the back of your chair, glaring down at you “but you already knew that.”

The air shifts when you look up at him, it’s heavier, thicker than peanut butter, and you almost choke at the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

“What makes you think I would know that?”

Eddie shifts, the liquor on his breath is spicy and warm.

“Because I've seen you here before, and not once have you ordered a drink from me.”

A wicked grin coaxes its way to your lips and you cross your legs, the toe of your high heel touching Eddie’s knee, and you lean your elbow on the table closer into him.

“Stalking me big boy?”

“And if I was?” his voice is low, the ends of his hair sway as he dips into your space, eyes never leaving yours, making sure he was all you could see as he whispers, “something tells me you wouldn’t mind that.”

The toe of your shoe grazes his inner thigh and the tip of something hard, making the corner of your lip tease up as you pluck the stem of the cherry from your empty drink. Bringing it to your mouth, you never stop looking into his eyes, and his haven’t left yours either.

The flesh of the cherry breached your lips and you lick the bottom of it, humming at the taste of the grenadine and sour whiskey on your tongue, finally biting the cherry, you toss the stem behind you. Chewing softly on the sugary fruit and leaning back, Eddie’s eyes taking you in.

His ringed hand crawls up your stocking clad thigh, circling your soft skin, rubbing at the hem of your skirt.

“am I right, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t need you to say he’s correct because he already knows, your eyes speak for you, a dark glint to them, dripping with want, and he wouldn’t doubt if you were to open your legs that your panties would wet with a sweet heat he desperately needed to taste.

“You’re pretty cocky for a guy who’s been staring at me for months but has never said a word until tonight.”

It's Eddie's turn for silence when your pretty nails reach out to trace the handcuffs on his belt, shifting your legs so the left is now crossed over the right, each taking more and more from one another waiting for the first to break.

“Why tonight? hmm?” your nails rubbing against the metal and leather, thumb grazing his zippered crotch, getting a devil hint of what he has hiding beneath. “Didn’t like seeing me with someone else? Already putting your claim on me, huh?”

He didn’t need to answer because you already knew.

The first time you laid eyes on him he was playing the solo to Master of Puppets, the cold air seeped into your bones from your walk from the Hideaway, and you needed a drink after your shitty shift.

Your eyes met and it was instant, a primal heat that drew you in and kept you coming back, waiting impatiently. Watching from afar calculating his moves, the way he held himself so confidently, his lithe muscles rippling when carrying band equipment from the stage. The way his throat vibrated when he sang, the quick jerk of his fingers as they strummed each key. How sweaty his hair would get after his set, shit you were infatuated.

He dips low to you again, a hand landing on your hip, sending shivers to your spine.

“You’re lost, sweetheart.”

Confused, you look up at him, quirking an eyebrow, challenging him, “lost?”

His fingers squeeze gently at your hip, his other hand moving your chin so you can look at him directly, his thumb moving over your bottom lip, pulling it down and almost groaning as it pops back into place against your teeth, “yeah, you’re supposed to be with me.”

“Well well, if it isn’t the freak caught with his hands in the cookie jar.”

Neither of you look at Billy, the heat between you still strong, sweltering.

“Hargrove,” Eddie greets, eyes never leaving yours, “thanks man.”

Billy shoots you a look, fists clenched, “for what?”

Eddie stands up straight, hands leaving you to retreat into his jacket pocket, angling his shoulders back, “bringing my girl to me, seriously, I owe you.”

Billy smirks and chuckles, “your girl huh?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

Eddie dogged the first swing, ducking and jabbing a brass knuckled fist into Billy’s stomach, sending him backwards into a table behind him, peanuts and beer spray up across the bar.

Stalking towards Billy, the shine of Eddie’s brass knuckles gleam against his fist, matching the shine of the wink he shoots you, and he’s caught off guard when you re-cross your legs and lick your top lip, hooded eyelids flashing him a sinful look of lust.

He chuckles at the sight of you, how you’re not afraid of him, how you didn’t run, the way you look like you’re almost enjoying this. Fuck.

Billy’s boot kicks Eddie square in the jaw, blooding up his bottom lip, sending him tumbling back a few steps, giving Billy the upper hand.

Neither of them expect what comes next. Eddie didn’t notice you get up, planting your heels on the ground and grabbing the bar stool by the legs. He only heard the thud of Billy falling to the ground and the crack of splintered wood teetering across the ground, the remaining pieces of the stool tossed to your feet.

Heels echoing across the floor, you tiptoe around the wood kneeling down to grab Billy’s blond hair between your fingers, twisting as his head raises from the floor.

“Date’s over,” your voice is sweet with each word, almost pleasant in the delivery, “understand?”

“Fucking crazy bitch,” Billy spits.

The whip of a knife whizzes past your ear, catching on the meat of Billy’s hand, nailing him to the floor.

Billy gasps and grunts mumbling shit under his breath.

Turning your head you look up at the dark haired metalhead. His eyes are darker than they were all night, a twitch formed in one of his eyelids. The blood dripping from his chin was sticky against his pale skin. To anyone else in the bar he looked deranged, like a demon straight from hell here in a human form, but to you? He looked like a God, a fucking King.

The look in his eyes caused a pool to form between your legs, the black veil of iniquity clouded your vision, a certain wickedness emitted from him and you were drawn to it like a magnet.

He stomps to both you and Billy, bending down he reaches a hand over your back, grabbing ahold of your hip, making you stand up with him.

“Wrong answer.” Eddie grunts, his boot shoving the blade in further.

He’s taller than you expected him to be, his broad shoulders are rolled back and he peers down at you, a dimpled smirk on his lips.

Standing on tiptoes, you reach up to his face. His strong jaw ripples between clenched teeth under your fingers. Rubbing the cut on his bottom lip with your thumb, he doesn’t flinch, only breathes heavy when you smear the blood around, and pop it into your mouth. The devil’s smile on your lips as you hum around your thumb, the acidic burnt taste of his blood on your tongue.

He groans, squeezing your hips in his big hands, bringing you into him, his stiff cock pressed heavy against your middle.

“Wanna get outta here?” your fingers walk up against his chest, fingernails scratching down until they land on his belt, lightly yanking the leather towards you.

“Your place or mine?” His voice is low, hungry.

“I’m not picky.”

“didn’t think you were, c’mon sweetheart.”

Eddie grabs your hand and drags you through the front door, your laugh fills the night air, taking away any chill from it, your bodies serving as heaters. He opens the drivers door of his van and you get in climbing over the center console.

He climbs in behind you, almost choking when you throw a leg back over and sit firmly in his lap.

“Fuck.”

Your fingers work to the collar of his shirt, ripping it down the center, showing off his pretty porcelain skin etched with scrawls of a demon-like face and a black widow on his chest, heaving as he tries not to blow his load right there and then.

Eyes rake over him, followed by the scratch of your nails, he hisses and groans as your lips attach to his neck, licking sweet and warm under his ear, “about time you talked to me..”

Your hips move against him, his hands burning into the fabric of your skirt and lifting slightly, thumbs searing into your thighs, “looks like you just needed to get jealous, hmm?”

Eddie’s hands work your jacket from your shoulders, groaning as the neon light from the bar hits you, illuminating the delicate skin of your shoulders, and the tight strap from your bra, he moans and yanks you forward, hands full on your breasts as his fingers roll against your nipples. His lips perched to the column of your throat. Your moans filling the van when his tongue salves across your throat, working a hickey into your neck, “that’s what I thought big boy, mmm, you’re easy to read.”

His dick kicks up when the pad of his thumb hits a steel ball on either side of your nipples, and he bites hard into your neck, causing you to yelp and moan, enjoying the pleasured pain.

“course I was jealous,” Eddie groans against your skin, working his tongue along his teeth marks, “fuckin’ look at you, goddamn devil woman.”

Your hand works to his jaw, wrapping closed around his throat and shoving him back hard into the seat. Nose to nose with him, your tongue darting out to catch the flesh of his lip, whispering hot against his mouth as you press your wet cunt down into him, “you like that? The evil inside of me?”

His hand wraps around your throat, large rings cutting into your skin, pressing hard against the bite he put into your neck. Eyes rolling to white you hum a moan so pretty against his hand his dick kicks up again, straining beneath the denim.

He brings you close to him, lips ghosting over your own, “Like isn’t the right word.”

His lips crash into yours, a mix of blood, spit and clashing teeth. It’s primal, the way your mouths work together, licking, sucking, lapping at one another, hungry for more.

Your hands move feverishly against his belt, and his fingers waist no time shoving your skirt up higher, showing off the sheen from your pussy lips, slick and bare, no panties.

He groans when his fingers push past your puffy lips and circle your clit, trying to suck him in where you need him most.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “you’re fucking soaked, Eddie get you all worked up?”

“Is that your name?” you quip, working his velvet thick cock from his jeans, spitting on the tip and rubbing it around with your thumb, you wrap your fingers around his shaft pumping him once, “looked more like a Diablo,” your hand works him again, “Lucifer…” you push his head through your slick folds, sinking down enough that the head of his cock disappears, “.. or daddy to me.”

Eddie rolls his eyes back into his head, biting his fist, and moaning loud, “fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

You tut between your teeth, “not tonight, tonight you’re mine.”

Your full weight drops down onto his cock and you sigh a moan the same time Eddie groans and squeezes his eyes shut, and you take a second to catch your breath before you adjust yourself so you can circle your hips. your nails press into his chest again, leaving scarlet marks in your wake, his skin pulled from itself and under your fingers, and he can’t get enough,

The buckles on your bra straps are plucked like dandelion heads against the cup, threads frayed under Eddie's hands as your tits bounce from their confinements, pretty piercings glinting in the neon lights.

“Tell me,” you groan, your own hands pushing your tits together and biting your lip from the pure ecstasy that’s laced into Eddie’s cock, “tell me how good this is.”

“Fuck look at you, taking me so fuckin’ deep.” his thumb circles your clit as his hips buck up into you, eliciting more pretty moans that rattle the windows in the van, matching his grunts and sweat-stuck bangs. “should have, mm yeah shit just like that, fuck! don’t stop, scooped you up the first night I saw you.”

He wasn’t like the other lame dicks in Hawkins, this one seemed different, better. You knew from the moment you saw him that he could keep up with you, wouldn’t be turned away from your demon lust or the darkness that permeated through your skin. Just as Billy had said, this guy was a freak. Like you.

Eddie lifts you up and turns, slamming you into the seat so your face is pressed against the warm leather, ass angled up, pussy split open and weeping from his cock.

He works his dick between your folds, relishing in the way you try to suck him in greedily, chuckling as you pout and scowl when he teases you some more.

“what’s the matter pretty girl? You don’t like being teased?”

“no,” you whine as he does it again, laughing at your eager pussy and desperate cries. A hand lands hard on the fat of your ass and you jump under his hand, moaning and pushing yourself back into him, “more, fuck, please.”

That’s all Eddie needed to hear before he’s deep inside you again, your gummy walls clenching around him as he bottoms out, His large hand printed on your skin. “fuck you’re nasty, such a dirty slut aren’t ya?”

“yes, fuck.” your tongue licks the leather seat, eyes looking back to see the blackness cloud Eddie’s eyes and for a split second you swore there were horns on his head.

He pumps into you faster, met by your hand circling your clit, he leans forward to suck into your shoulder blade, licking up the back of your neck, whispering into your ear as his hips jack knife into you, “come for me, fuckin’ come for daddy.”

Wet floods your fingers and heat coils in your belly as your orgasm spreads, the back of Eddie’s seat has moon shaped indents on the left side as you claw into it, moaning against it.

His fingers are grabbing you hard enough it will leave bruises on your hips, he grunts into you, working you through your leg shaking high. “Did so good for me, yeah you like this cock? gripping me like a fuckin’ vice honey, ’m gonna come, where you want me?”

You twist beneath him, facing him to see his sweaty chest, hair sticking to his neck in places, dark eyes gleaming in a lust infused state of bliss, fat cock red and swollen. The demon of your dreams.

The makeup on your eyes were smudged from sweat and your face grinding into the seat, you lick your lips and eye the pre cum on his cock, your slick soaking his length, coating the course hair at the base. “I wanna know how we taste.”

Eddie groans, grabbing your waist roughly and adjusting you both carelessly to the back, shoulders knocking into the seats and whatever other bullshit was tossed into the void.

He kisses you harsh, fingers tweezed around your nipple piercing, groaning at your little moans as you bite his split lip and shove him onto his back. Peering down at him with soulless eyes you work your way down his body, tangling yourself in between his legs, you wrap your lips around his fat length.

The heady taste of your arousal and the brine of his precum mix on your tongue, marrying into a profound taste that could only be described as heaven and hell.

His hips wiggle beneath you, desperate for more of your mouth, you giggle before swallowing him into your throat in one single move, working your hands up and down his shaft, in tandem with your swirling tongue.

Groans replace your desperate moans from earlier, lewd sounds streak up the fogged fucked windows of the van, and it’s not long before Eddie is spilling into your mouth, muttering nonsense.

You suck him clean, and he hisses at your wicked tongue lapping around him.

“Fuck Lilith,” Eddie groans, sleepy little smile on his lips as he pulls you into his sweaty chest, skin to skin, “you’re out of this world.”

You quirk a brow and push his bangs back from his forehead, “that’s not my name, Eddie.”

“it should be,” he grins down at you, moving your neck to plant a kiss behind your ear, “it’s a variation of the Mother goddess of all demons… and after what we just did, fuck.” he grunts, squeezing your bare thigh and hoisting you higher up to him, “satan himself couldn’t tear you away from me.”

A wicked grin paints your lips, and you surprise yourself when you push them into Eddie’s, fingers wrapped tight around his neck.

Eddie was wrong, you weren’t lost, just missing a piece to your puzzle, needing someone to delve into the darkest part of your mind, to be enthused by your antics, applauding your wickedness. and that someone, was found at a smelly dive bar. Him.

Ave Satani

pls enjoy another story in the same au here

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @katethetank @munsons-mayhem28 * @mandyjo8719 @joannamuns9n @littlebookworm86 @hunnybuns-world @feyremunson

+ a few lovely moots: @taintedcigs @eiightysixbaby @prettyboyeddiemunson @succubusmunson @eddieschains @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @littledemondani

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson one shot

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wonderinqrache · 2 months ago

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More stuff for Reincarnated Villain AU. Specifically about the suitors. This post will be updated whenever I think of more stuff.

Suitors:

All of Scott's suitors love hearing him laugh and will go to varying lengths just to hear it.

Skizz is an avian from Mythland. Most well known for somehow befriending the Prince of the End before the Dimension Peace Treaties were completed. He knows basically everything about what happened between Scott, Jimmy, and Tango because he managed to get Scott to open up to him. He likes Scott's hugs and will ask for them often. He is friends with everyone, but Impulse is his best friend.

Impulse is the Prince of the End. He knows basically everything about what happened between Scott, Jimmy, and Tango because he's kind of a gossip and somehow no one notices the dragon hybrid listening in. His only thought upon seeing Scott for the first time was "elf pretty". He likes Scott's hugs and won't directly ask for them. He'll wrap his tail around Scott's arm, and when asked about it Impulse will blush and say it's nothing. (It means he likes him and wants some physical contact)(Scott doesn't figure out what it means until he sees Impulse doing it to Skizz and getting a hug) He and Skizz are best friends.

Etho is a fox hybrid and the son of a court advisor from Rivendell. He and Scott have known each other since they were children. This is a very big advantage that he has over the other suitors. And they both like plants. He dated Bdubs for a bit.

Grian is a parrot avian from... somewhere. No one except the Watchers actually know where. He hides all his emotions under his extremely profound gremlin energy, so no one (not even him) knows that he's got a crush on Scott. Scott is the only person capable of dragging him to the Student Council office to do his job as president. One of the few rules he actually wrote by himself was one that allows himself and some "randomly selected" students to create games like Guess the Build, Build & Seek, and Escape Rooms. He is Mumbo's best friend and has some sort of relationship with Scar.

Mumbo is a shapeshifter and the youngest engineer in the Grimlands. Scott tends to compliment people a lot, so Mumbo can get flustered just by being near Scott. They both dress up as vampires for the school's Halloween party, where a slightly drunk Scott ends up flirting a little with Mumbo (he couldn't even look at Scott without blushing anymore after that). He is Grian's best friend.

#does Scott have two hands? yes. is he allowed to use them? nope! :)#mcyt rvau #reincarnated villain au #life series #trafficblr #trafficshipping #empires s1 #empires smp #scott smajor #skizzleman #impulsesv #ethoslab #grian #mumbo jumbo #joe hills

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smallpwbbles · 4 months ago

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Who’s the babysitter here?

Wanted to get a more fluffy fic for the au out, my brain automatically told me to use Cream for such a purpose

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“Why are we here again?” Shadow's voice rumbled out as he turned to the bat on his shoulder, he wasn’t one to let people hitch a ride on his body. Rouge was fine though, she was very respectful of the gigantic hedgehog's boundaries and was kind enough to ask for permission before settling herself on his right shoulder.

Her tiny weight reminded him to trek slowly, at this point it was an unconscious behaviour to be careful with the regular sized people around him.

“Don’t worry it’s not a task from HQ, just doing a favour for Rose and grabbing some stuff she left at Vanillas”

Shadow gave her a look.

“Why did you bring me for this then?”

The bat gave the monstrous hedgehog a sheepish look “I don’t really interact with Vanilla much so I just wanted familiar company”.

That surprised Shadow a little, he honestly considered Rouge an extreme extrovert, the bat had such a way with charming people and swaying them with her charisma.

“Listen I’ve had to participate in a LOT of meetings back at HQ hun, my social battery can only take so many conversations with acquaintances before it depletes completely” Rouge complained, she dramatically raised a hand to her head and feigned fatigue.

Rouge could feel a rumble go through Shadow, he was chuckling, she knew the giant hedgehog could relate as his social battery was practically non existent. The bat really had to fight just to get him to attend the smallest events, be it going for a walk with her through station square or anywhere else in general.

The memory of his rampage after his awakening was but a flickering spot in her head as much time had past, the residents of station square seemed to have forgotten the event as well as Shadow had become quite a small celebrity, it was preferable to people being afraid of the gigantic hedgehog however Shadow hated it all the same.

He would avoid going into the city, even the spaces that could accommodate him just fine. She could only push him to socialise so much. The bat and Omega were just fine for him at the moment she guessed.

They had been trekking towards Floral forest village, the home of Vanilla and her daughter Cream. Rouge could agree the two rabbits lived in a peaceful and lovely outpost, though she much preferred the bustling and loud life of the urban city.

A few residents of the village were alarmed by the bat and giant hedgehog lizard's presence, but Rouge was sure it was mostly Shadows' looming stature and hedgehog body mixed with that lizard that caught the villagers off guard.

The bat glanced at Shadows face, it was hard and steely she knew he was used to people being wary around him but she was sure it never got any easier to deal with.

The bat leaped off the furry shoulder and spread her wings to flap and hover in the air next to Shadows head, she took a moment to look around before spotting a cute little house. The front yard was adorned with bushes covered in beautiful pink tulips and carnations no doubt due to Vanillas' expert gardening skills.

It made Rouge want to buy potted plants to spice up her apartment more, they’d have to be fake though as she wasn’t sure if she’d have the time to take care of them the way Vanilla did with her plants.

The bat flew down to the front door of the cute house, Shadow trailed behind her but kept his distance, he was quite tall compared to the home so Rouge assumed he kept away so as to not accidentally step on Vanillas flowers.

Rouge knocked politely three times on the wooden door, there was a moment of waiting and Rouge began to tap her heel in impatience. Amy said Vanilla was definitely home today so the bat hoped she wouldn’t have to wait too long.

As if the universe was listening to her thoughts the door was opened to a slightly frazzled Vanilla, “oh! Rouge my dear I was expecting you, so sorry for making you wait” she apologised. The rabbit patted down her skirt, it was covered in a white sort of powder “I’ve just been baking some pies for the elderly residents of our village so excuse my appearance”.

“No need to apologise, Vanilla” Rouge felt a little bad for her impatience, making pies for elderly people? That was literally one of the most wholesome things Rouge had ever heard, the rabbit was a saint.

Vanilla looked behind the bat to acknowledge the gigantic hedgehog standing a couple feet away “oh Shadow! It’s so nice to see you, your looking well sweetie”

Shadow's face turned red as he looked down at his feet, it wasn’t like he hadn’t met Vanilla but her kindness was always so foreign to him. Rouge had told him Vanilla contained a maternal aura that she spread to literally anyone and everyone she encountered but the hedgehog was not familiar with the feeling at all.

At Shadows silence Rouge sighed “don’t mind him he’s just shy”

Vanilla brought a hand up to her mouth as she laughed “oh that’s no issue, I remember when Cream used to be just the same, she’d always cling to my leg when I talked to others” she reminisced

Speaking of Cream, the younger rabbit poked her little head out to see who her mother was conversing with, her face brightened when she saw Rouge exchanging pleasantries with Vanilla, and a gigantic hedgehog standing awkwardly behind the two.

“Miss Rouge! Mr Shadow! Hi!” The young rabbit practically jumped out of her home to greet the two. Cream was also adorned with an orange flower crown containing many different plants that Rouge couldn’t identify, It was extremely adorable.

“Hey sweetie, how’ve you been?” Shadow simply waved pathetically behind her, he was even more awkward around children.

“I’m really good, Miss rouge, I’ve been making flower crowns with cheese and helping mom bake!” Rouge was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the two rabbits, they radiated so much good vibes it was gonna give her a heart attack.

“That’s nice hun, hey Vanilla, sorry to rush but I needed to do a favour for Amy, she said she left a some kitchen stuff in here” Rouge didn't mean to speed up the interaction but she could sense Shadow behind her getting antsy

“Oh of course, I’ve kept them in storage for when she next visited, I may need a minute to grab them unfortunately, this weeks been hectic and I’ve just been throwing things all about in there” the elder rabbit explained.

Rouge sighed in her head, that meant she’d be here a bit longer than intended, she didn’t mind that much but she could tell Shadow wanted to get outta there. The bat turned towards the younger bubbly rabbit and felt a little intrusive thought enter her mind.

Maybe she should let Cream play with Shadow until she got the items.

A devilish smile grew on her face, she’d already got Shadow to come out with her today, why not get him to socialise a bit with someone that wasn’t the herself.

“That sounds good, Vanilla. I’ll even help you out, but can Cream watch over Shadow for me? He gets a little anxious by himself.”

Rouge swore she heard something in Shadows neck crack with how fast his head whipped to turn to her.

“Oh that sounds like a fine idea, Cream you don’t mind playing with Shadow while me and Rouge are busy do you?” Vanilla questioned.

Shadow hoped Cream would be put off by the suggestion but her elated expression somehow got even more excited. “Oh yes please! I’d love to play with mr Shadow!”

The gigantic hedgehog had never felt so patronised, was Rouge seriously passing him off like some toddler for a play date, he glared down at the bat who returned it with cheeky grin,

He desperately fought the urge to step on her right then and he didn’t reject the tiny rabbit when she ran up to his paws. It would be too rude to do so now.

Cream managed to hop up and grab at one of Shadows fingers, she pulled at the claw that hung dangerously from the finger with no sign of fear on her little bunny face. “C'mon Mr Shadow! Let's go into the back garden”

Rouge watched as the little rabbit somehow managed to get Shadow to move in her direction, it was a hilarious sight to see as Shadow bent down awkwardly so the rabbit could pull his claw easier, the giant hedgehog turned back to the bat with a look that screamed “help me”.

She felt Vanilla take her arm and gently pull her inside the comfy home. It was very small but so cosy in the kitchen, the entire room smelt of cinnamon and sugar and it made Rouge's mouth salivate.

As the elder rabbit led her to another room in the house, Rouge felt the need to make sure Vanilla was okay with leaving Cream in Shadows care or maybe Shadow in Creams care when she thought about it.

“You're not worried about Shadow squishing Cream on accident or anything are you” it was a blunt way to address it but Rouge did consider herself to be a blunt person when she needed to be.

“No actually, I can see it in the way Shadow treats you, he seems to be a very kind and careful person,” Vanilla explained.

It kind of made Rouge's heart warm, Vanilla was very perceptive of people and the elder rabbit could see Shadow had no malicious intentions.

Though she hoped Cream's bubbly exterior didn’t end up scaring Shadow until he teleported somewhere she couldn’t find him.

————————————————————————

Shadows mind was at a blank, after walking over and into the fenced garden he sat in the middle of the grass yard with his hands laid flat. Cream was in front of him looking not any less excited, he was sure she’d never played with someone like him before and he had no idea how to feel about it.

She was much more observant than he thought as the young rabbit sensed his tension. “Oh don’t be shy mr Shadow! I won’t bite”.

He felt like such a baby, the tiny child was comforting him, the giant monster. The irony was not wasted on him.

“Oh let me give you something!” She exclaimed as she ran to a small patio table that wasn’t too far away, the table was covered in many flowers that Shadow assumed were Cream's early attempts at flower crowns. Her little chao pal, Cheese, was laying in this pile and slept adorably.

The rabbit carefully removed a crown from the pile so as not to disturb Cheese and came back to present it to Shadow.

She held it up high possibly so Shadow could see it better, he had impeccable sight though but he leaned in just to respect the rabbits actions “this is for you! It’s got poppy’s, roses and dahlia in it”.

The rabbit suddenly brought it down when she realised that Shadows head was much too big for the little crown. “Oh… sorry I got so excited to give it to you I forgot how big you were Mr Shadow”

He was about to wave off her lapse of memory, he was too big for a lot of things so the huge hedgehog didn’t take it personally. But she jumped up as an idea popped into her little head “wait! May I have your hand please?”

He didn’t see a reason to not do so so he slowly lifted up a massive claw to her tiny body, the rabbit hopped to his pinky finger and furnished the appendage with her crown. “There! Now it’s a ring”

She looked quite proud of her quick thinking, and the Shadow couldn’t deny the crown turned ring looked really nice. He looked down upon the tiny rabbit and uttered a single thanks.

It made the tiny rabbit immensely happy though so Shadow guessed he was doing this weird little play date right.

“Can I sit in your hand?” Cream suddenly asked, surprising Shadow. It was a very forward question and Shadow really didn’t like picking up people he wasn’t used to. “I’ll be really careful!”.

Shadow wasn’t worried about her being careful, he was worried about himself handling her. The hedgehog really didn’t want Vanilla coming outside to her daughter as flat as a pancake if Shadow ended up squishing her.

But the adorable look on her face was too hard to deny.

Cream watched as a gigantic claw of the giant hedgehog was carefully placed back in front of her, his palm went flat as he invited her to climb it, she readily did so and gripped onto his forefinger for extra measure “lift me up as high as you can!” The rabbit suggested.

Shadow swore the tiny rabbit could fly, she could go as high as she wished herself. He guessed it was just a different feeling when a giant creature was doing all the labour for you.

Creams stomach lurched a bit as the hedgehog did as she commanded, her view went from her garden to the entire village as Shadow even stood up to give her access to more height, she jumped about in his surprisingly bouncy palm as she enjoyed the view

“So cool! Youre so cool Mr Shadow” she exclaimed. Shadows' face turned red again as the little rabbit bounced in his hand. He’d come to expect that for the rest of his life he’d be subject to the rejection and fear from those below himself. He wasn’t like anyone else and was never going to be and he’d come to terms with that.

But people like Rouge, people like Sonic and his friends, even Cream as she bounced in his hand. They were different, he didn’t understand it but no matter what he did they never looked at him in fear.

It felt corny to say but he couldn’t thank them enough for letting him feel just a bit of normalcy in his messed up life.

“Let’s play hide and seek” the tiny rabbit's voice took him out of his thoughts, his face fell flat at the game she proposed considering his stature would make hiding anywhere impossible.

Cream noticed his change of expression rather quickly though “oh it’s okay, you’ll be the seeker and I’ll hide, I have to warn you I’m super good at hiding, I always win at this with Charmy so he doesn’t like playing hide and seek with me anymore”.

Shadow snorted a bit at the warning, it was a bit hysterical coming from Cream but he did love a challenge.

——————————————————————

The giant hedgehog was gripping at his head, the game had gone on for about 15 minutes with Shadow finding the bunny girl in easy places like behind the patio chairs and under a picnic blanket that was chilling on the grass previously. He grew bored of the game after finding her the first time and thought her challenge was just childish exaggeration.

But now he couldn’t find her.

He really truly could not find her and it was taking all the chaos energy within his system not to panic, his thoughts began growing irrational as he wondered if Cream had just left the garden to hide somewhere else. He didn’t think she would do so as the game was kept within the garden.

Where the hell was she then?

It would look so embarrassing if Rouge came out right now for them to leave only for Shadow to have lost Vanillas daughter.

He wanted to disappear in a puff of chaos control when Rouge came outside a second later, she was carrying a large bag full of what was probably Amy’s items.

“C'mon honey let’s jet” the bat pointed a thumb towards the village.

Rouge then noticed Shadow looked downright strung out, his quills were standing up in their ends and he was sweating, she also noticed Cream was not with him.

“Shadow, where's the kid?” she questioned.

His face went beat red as he fumbled for a moment “I… I don’t know” he finally admitted.

Rouge was perplexed “whu- what do you mean you don’t know?”

“We were playing hide and seek and now I can’t find her” Shadow put his hands to his face as his words became muffled “I lost her”.

Rouge stood there for a minute, the guffaw escaped her before she could stop it.

Shadow looked irate by her outburst “don’t laugh, I need to find her! his voice was raised and she felt the yell through her entire body. It didn’t stop her from laughing though.

Rouge wheezed as she wiped a tear from her eye “oh my gosh Shadow how are you that bad at hide and seek that you can’t find her now”.

The giant hedgehog looked a little offended at her teasing, he played many games of hide and seek back in the ARK and happened to be quite good at making himself scarce and finding people.

Rouge calmed herself, she knew Cream was definitely somewhere with them, the bat had to make sure they identified where before Shadow lost his nerve and ended up breaking something.

Before she could offer possible hiding places she was interrupted by Vanilla poking her torso outside “is everything okay out here? Are you two ready to leave?”

Shadow stepped over Rouge, his sudden movement catching her off guard and his footfall making her lose balance “yes everything is just fine” the panic in the giant lizard hedgehog's voice betrayed his words as he tried his best to regain control of the situation.

Rouge moved herself from behind the leg that stood in front of her, if Shadow wasn’t gonna be honest about the hilarious situation she was “actually we can’t find Cream, these two were playing hide and seek and it seems Creams pulled a fast one on Shadow”.

Her voice was full of Mockery, she didn’t turn up to look at the Shadow because she knew the face he was probably giving her could kill her if it was able to.

Vanilla didn’t look affected by the fact her daughter was missing, Shadow was fully expecting to be scolded for losing the younger rabbit but Vanilla simply looked around the garden. She took a moment before making eye contact with Shadow, he saw something like realisation strike her as the elder rabbit's eyes widened.

“Cream dear you can stop hiding now, I know your up there”

Shadow was confused, up there? Up where?

He was immensely startled as he suddenly heard a tiny defeated voice come from in his head, “noooo, I was doing so well!”

The giant lizard hedgehog squirmed as he felt the spines of his upper and middle quills be moved about, Rouge watched as Cream's tiny head popped out of Shadows quills “here I am!” She exclaimed.

That sly little rabbit Rouge thought, she really got in there without Shadow even noticing. The bat had to admire Cream's sneaking skills.

Shadow was flabbergasted. He didn't feel Cream make her way in there, he was usually so sensitive to the touch of others. He attributed his lack of awareness to his earlier tension and apprehensiveness with spending time with the tiny rabbit. If he didn’t then he was sure he’d explode with embarrassment, if Sonic heard about this the blue hedgehog would never let him live it down.

“Cream come down now, you're making Shadow uncomfortable” Vanilla ordered.

“I’m trying but I think my leg is stuck,” the younger rabbit replied.

Rouge flew up to inspect the situation, the little rabbit indeed had a leg stuck in the spines of Shadows quills, she was near dangling and holding onto the spines of Shadows top head spine for support.

“Shadow relax your quills would you, the poor thing is hanging on for dear life” Shadow perked up at that and tried to manually relax himself, it worked too well as Rouge had to quickly catch the bunny girl when the quills smoothed out and her leg was freed.

The giant hedgehog turned to the two of them, his face was etched with concern. Cream was once again very observant to this expression.

“Oh don’t worry Mr Shadow, I’m okay! But I did say I’m really really good at hide and seek” the rabbit reminded him.

He would never underestimate Cream again, he was still standing there trying to work out how she got in there without him realising.

“You sure showed him Cream, it seems he’s not as good at sensing people as he likes to brag” Rouge chided, voice full of ridicule.

She was so lucky she was still holding Cream in her arms because Shadow could have swatted her out the sky.

————————————————————————-

Vanilla had sent them on their way with the items but also a bit of the cinnamon pie she made.

Rouge was glad she didn’t have to worry about what to have for dinner today.

She was perched on Shadows head as they took the scenic route back towards station square, rouge took notice of a little ring of flowers on Shadows pinky finger as he raised his hand to swipe at leaves that had flown too close to his eyes.

“Aww did Cream give that to you, that’s super sweet of her”

Shadow extended his hand out to look at his pinky,

The large hedgehog smiled at the little gift.

“Cream is nice, she and Vanilla are really kind”

“ I know right? It's insanely cute but it’s also suspicious” Rouge hinted.

Shadow was confused by that statement, Rouge couldn’t see his face on top of his gigantic head but she knew he was probably questioning her statement.

“Nice people always have the wildest things to hide, I'd bet you 10 rings that Vanilla has killed someone before”.

Shadows' face turned incredulous, he shook his head “too many crime documentaries Rouge”.

“I’m just saying! Where did Cream learn to be so sneaky and quiet?” She challenged.

Shadow opened his mouth but closed it when he realised he didn’t really have an answer for that “touché”.

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #Biolizard shadow au #shadow the Hedgehog #rouge the bat #cream the rabbit #vanilla the rabbit #my art #my writing

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zethsdumpster · 3 months ago

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I got into The Magnus Archives

and you know what that means

It's au time

Robin (obv) is the new archivist

her team are Sanji, Sabo, Deuce, Law (so far)

Deuce started working there because he kinda always has had an interest in that sort of thing

Sabo´s reasons are similar to Sanji´s, Luffy is still very much Nika´s vessel, and Ace inherited some sort of curse from Roger

in general, the Ds always seem to have sth paranormal going on

and Law, well, the will of D and sth sth Donquixote family

Zoro and Franky work at the institute as security

Franky got in cuz Tom used to work there

And Zoro joined because Kuina died by supernatural means and, after meeting the people at the institute, he decided to protect them so they could keep investigating and hopefully help others

neither Ace nor Luffy work for the institute but they do paranormal investigation and are some of Sabo´s contacts/informants (thet visit sometimes, mostly Luffy) - Luffy is kinda uncanny but still normal enough

and the recorders being able to pick up/record Nika who is just as chatty as Luffy (but usually only Luffy can hear him unless Nika talks through him or sth) ~~but Law apparently can???~~

also Ace's curse is, ofc, fire based: He is rather flammable but fire won't kill him. However, it will try to kill everyone he loves. He has no idea where did Dadan get the necklace but it does help a lot in keeping under control the curse . Although there will always be a margin of error. Which is how Sabo got his scars and almost died

Judge turns his kids into actual monsters lmao and by that I mean he turns them into doll-puppet-like vessels to be used and possessed by The Horrors.

So picture Sanji watching in horror as his siblings become less and less human now that their mother is gone, he´s helpless to help his siblings and barely manages to scape with Zeff before he too is used for whatever his father is trying to do, but there's a seed planted in him too and whatever is working with his father, unlike the man, is very patient

They would still have their, well, human forms, but they will never be able to go back to who they were, humans with their own free-wills and free of the horrors, even Sanji, having scaped, can´t live in peace with the horror harrasing him

Also, after dying, Sora becomes a creature ~~not unlike Michael~~ who has been doing her best to attain more and more power while obsessively trying to protect her kids from beings far more powerful than her, she becomes a loa follower of Nika.

Next post is gonna be the Good Cush (acechiji lmao)

#one piece #vinsmoke ichiji #portgas d ace #acechiji #portgas d ace x vinsmoke ichiji #one piece acechiji #op acechiji #vinsmoke siblings #tma au #lulaw #mokey d luffy #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law

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pars-ley · 1 month ago

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Title: I still want you (part one)

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

Summary: Legend has it that there's a being of nightmares residing in a dark castle deep within the woods. But...what if the man who roams those halls is not the monster he's made out to be?

Genre: fantasy au / cursed jimin / strangers to lovers / fated lovers / angst / fluff

Rating: 18+ (sfw) (part two will have smut)

Warnings: mentions and descriptions of demons / description of murdered character (not main character) / talk of curses and spells / really insecure Jimin /

Word count: 7.3k

Banner: @caelesjjk is the G.O.A.T for this perfect banner

Moodboard: Me

Beta: @anyamaris @colormepurplex2 @heathfritillary thank you so much for all of your help, suggestions and endless cheers for this!!!

Authors notes: for @ksmutsociety ’s ‘the velvet vault’ event with the prompt dark academia. Inspired by “the truth untold” song, mixed with Beauty and the Beast meets Tim Burton. The poem at the end was written by the wonderful @colormepurplex2 thank you so much.

My playlist:

The truth untold - BTS

Who - Jimin

Not by the moon - Got 7

Dopamine - Jackson Wang

Like crazy - Jimin

Scene one

Hearing tales about this infamous garden is one thing, but seeing it before you, that is something else entirely.

Your eyes must be deceiving you, for such beauty couldn't exist in just one place; especially within this dark, cruel town.

People here have long given up on happiness, love, even decency. With more magical creatures being discovered and invading the town, some wreaking havoc and others spreading fear like wildfire, a lot of people feel trapped here.

You, being one of them.

Living a life constantly looking over your shoulder is not ideal but it is something you have come to accept. Especially after the death of your mother, which has shaped you into a much more vigilant adult.

One evening, she didn't make it home before the darkness blanketed the sky, your mind raced throughout the night, until first light peeked through the trees and illuminated your answers.

Her lifeless body strung up in the centre of town, by those demonic, soulless beings, hung for everyone to view and gawk at. The image still haunts you almost four summers on and so does the comprehension behind her death.

Your mother had been a powerful enchantress, having regular visions that, more often than not, came true. She could charm objects with magic to bring a variety of privileges; protection, love, knowledge, luck, anything to help ease the wickedness of the world. She made potions from the plants that grew on our windowsill, all medicinal and all made with heartfelt care.

All of this made her more capable of protecting herself than anyone in this town and yet, she still ended up dead.

Her dagger, laced with a protection spell, had still been tied tightly to her thigh, not even an attempt to be taken out of the harness. Had she even had the chance to try?

You had removed it from her lifeless body and kept it close to you ever since.

You did not know what she had been doing in the woods, or what kept her out so late on that fateful day, but you knew that whatever it was, surely involved magic. If she pushed herself too hard with spells, she lost too much energy and wasn't able to use more if needed.

The questions around her death have plagued you ever since.

Here in the garden, however, you feel an odd sense of peace, something you haven't felt in a long time. However reckless it may be for you to enter, you slowly open the unlocked gate. The loud creaking of the hinges makes you pause, frozen in panic while you scan your surroundings. Your hand moves to your mother's dagger that now resides hidden under your skirt, tied to your outer thigh with a makeshift holster.

When nothing moves or makes a sound in return, you slide yourself in through the small gap and step onto the stone pathway.

The smell hits you like an ocean breeze; intoxicating fragrances swirl around you, trapping you in a cage of flowers. One that you would gladly lock yourself into.

Your feet seem to move of their own accord as you stroll through the abundance of colourful flowers, softly skating your fingers along velvet petals with a ghostly touch.

As you walk, a little basket full of berries in hand, you realise how much lighter you felt, as if you were lifted on a floating cloud, carrying you along in the wind. Your aching heart felt calmed; soothed just by being in here.

The variation of flowers is unlike anything you'd seen, every colour you could think of in so many shapes and sizes it is hard to fathom them all. But it’s the white rose bush in the centre of the garden that catches your eye and draws you in further. As you had given in and succumbed to the temptation, trespassing onto the grounds of the large, ornate castle your town spoke about frequently. The fear and the guilt, however, had left you as soon as you entered.

In closing the distance between you and the rose bush, you also edge much closer to the tall, round tower that stands alongside it. Surrounded by a wildflower floral blanket and yet, the dark, unwelcome castle looks out of place in all this beauty, and a shiver cascades through you.

Unsure if your mind is playing tricks, you glance up at the windows, searching for any sign of the eyes you can suddenly feel upon you. Every part of the castle seems thick with shadows, empty and un-lived in. But you have heard many rumours of the man within. A twisted man who stays hidden away inside, so grotesque and sinister he hides from the world. Many stories shrouded in mystery, kept the village alight with curiosity, but all of them had the same message.

Stay away from the castle.

Maybe you are a fool for coming here, although searching for the reality from the tales was not your initial intention, but admittedly, you are surprised by your surroundings. It’s as if two different worlds coexist within the outer walls.

A garden so beautiful it wouldn't be unbelievable to see cherubs and angels holding hands and dancing around the shrubs, but with the backdrop of a dark, secret dwelling housing an angry beast.

Seeing no movement or signs of life in the many windows, you continue on your venture.

Your footsteps make no sound as you tiptoe carefully across the grass to the roses.

Such a simple flower but your unmatched favourite.

White roses remind you of your mother, a delicate, breathtaking woman who stood out everywhere she went, but with a natural, understated beauty.

Leaning down to deeply inhale the familiar scent, the promise of satin petals on your fingertips grew too much as you reached out to touch one. Your fingers glide like silk along the curled edges, tiny dew drops still inside from the morning's breath.

What you wouldn't give to just have one of these roses in your pitiful garden, but it would be too out of place and unbelonging. Much like yourself in this garden.

Placing your basket on the ground beside you and kneeling down to the bush, you want nothing more than to crawl inside its stemmed cage and stay there.

The sounds of birds chirping echo around you, as the orange afternoon sun breaks through the clouds, glowing and warming your skin slightly. Angling your face up to it and enjoying the feeling on your skin, you sit humming peacefully to yourself.

The sudden sound of a gasp from above silences you. Your eyes fly open and your head snaps up sharply to an open window on the first floor of the tower.

You manage to catch a glimpse of someone before they retreat out of sight and back into the shadow. You bolt upright to stand, frozen in place. Your eyes remain fixed in the same spot, looking for any sign of movement. The ability to call out is swallowed by fear in your throat, and so you stay silent and unmoving for what feels like an eternity before half a face peers out at you from behind the window frame.

There were many tales of the grotesque character that resides within these walls, but no mention of a man so breathtaking he could be a fairytale prince.

Perfect skin that glows in the peachy sunlight and smooth, plump lips that could make the beautiful roses in front of you envious beyond measure. The one visible dark eye, a hidden jewel in a cave of wonders, widens briefly as he meets your gaze before quickly retreating back into concealment.

"Hello?" you call out softly, finding your voice but not wanting to startle him further. "I'm sorry for intruding, but your garden is so beautiful I had to see it for myself.”

Silence.

Worrying you've made a grave mistake, you're about to turn away and leave for fear that your presence is not welcome, when a shy and yet alluring voice sounds; echoing around you.

"Please, stay and enjoy it."

Turning back up to the window, your eyes find his half-form, noticing his ivory knuckles as he clings to the window frame as if forcing himself in place.

“Thank you.” You nod and sit on the grass once again, your skirt billowing out around you. Your eyes remain stuck on his statuesque stance.

“I had no idea anyone actually lived here,” you say into the thick silence, your voice echoing across the empty grounds.

The one eye of his that you can see darts around at the woodland area beyond the walls before returning to you. Not even a whisper of a response, and so, you continue to try to find out more.

"Are you alone?" you ask, eyes roving around the castle windows once again, waiting for the beast you've heard so much about to appear.

He nods. “I've been here for many years.” He finally speaks up, but with wavering hesitance you can hear as his voice trembles.

Your brow furrows as you try to piece together this puzzle in your mind.

What could this man have done to warrant such hostile tales being told about him, or is it simply because he hides himself away that the townsfolk fear him?

He doesn't look much older than you, if he had ventured into your town you would remember him. You can't help your curiosity. “Why have I never seen you?” you question innocently.

You're not certain, but it seems as if he grimaces, shrugging into the shadows for a brief moment. “I don't really venture out much.”

How lonely he must be. Alone, in such a vast castle, hiding himself away, what a sad existence.

You are in no position to talk about anyone else's existence, as you're not exactly jumping for joy about yours, either.

Shrugging those thoughts away, you realise how impolite you're being, especially after breaking into someone else's garden and you introduce yourself.

His cheek reddens as he stammers out, “I-I’m Jimin, P-park Jimin.”

Unable to help the smile that stretches across your mouth from this endearing, timid man, you reply, “It's nice to meet you, Jimin.”

A furious blush spreads to his hairline and down his neck, a sight that not only intrigues you but warms your chest, too. Your gaze stays locked on the sight until you see his eye drift out, looking over at the expanse beyond the castle.

“The sun sets, you should not be out in the woods during darkness.”

His warning is apt and true, you know that better than anyone. Since the world of magic had taken over, nighttime is when the most demonic creatures come out to do their bidding.

Glancing back towards the gate, you know you should leave, your head screams at you to go, but something else pulls you to stay.

Almost as if he senses your hesitancy, he asks, "Will you come back again?”

A strange tightness pulls across your chest, a feeling you've never experienced before. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes," he responds, nodding eagerly, and with that one-word answer, your mind is made up.

“I can return tomorrow?” you suggest bravely, hoping you're not overstepping his boundaries, but pleasantly discover the opposite, with a half smile so breathtaking you're almost blinded.

“Tomorrow it is, then,” he says simply, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

A distant cackle snatches your attention away, a stark contrast to the sound of his melodic voice. You collect your basket and whisk yourself away, out of the garden and into the dusky woods, leaving just as quietly as you entered and running home as fast as you could before nightfall envelopes you.

Before all the monsters come out to play with the mere mortals, unable to resist their sadistic and seductive ways.

That night, you lie in bed, listening to the havoc created outside around you but unable to stop thinking of Jimin.

Seeming so meek and sweet you wonder what he's doing there all alone. Why do the village tales only ever speak of a monster who hides within the castle and not angels who could be guarding it?

He seems so desperate for company and yet, so afraid at the same time. Questions race in your mind, unable to silence them as you wonder about his story.

Who is he? Why is he in that castle all alone and hiding from the world?

You’re consumed with him until sleep takes over, and instead of the usual terror that frequently haunts your dreams, you are visited by the beautiful man in the dark tower.

Scene two

The following day, before the noon sun reaches its highest peak in the sky, you begin the journey to the castle in the woods.

Your feet seem to move of their own accord, faster than usual, with nothing but the image of the mysterious man from the tower in your mind.

The gate creaks open as you push through it, and your eyes go straight to the tower window.

You're met with only darkness.

Stepping quietly into the garden, you make your way to the rose bush, bringing you directly in sight of the window. That's when you notice them.

A bunch of five white roses, tied together with a pale pink ribbon, lay on the grass in front of the bush, the stems perfectly trimmed and now beautifully symmetrical. Gently, you skate your fingers lightly over the petals.

“Do you like them?” a soft voice sounds from above.

Your mouth pulls into a smile upon hearing his gentle tone echo around you, comforting you in an unfamiliar embrace. Although, he'd conquered your waking and sleeping thoughts since your meeting yesterday, you had not done his angelic voice justice in your mind.

You turn to greet him. “I do. Are they for me?”

Half peering out at you like before, he nods, his left cheek glowing pinkly in the sunshine.

“Thank you. I will cherish having a part of your beautiful garden in my home.”

He beams at your words and hides even more of his face further behind the wall. “They will protect you from evil.”

Glancing down at the flowers in your hand, you notice nothing out of the ordinary and wonder what he could possibly mean. “How so?”

“M-magic,” he whispers, although even that seems to echo into the silence around you.

A bird flies out of a tree nearby, squeaking loudly, and you both look over to it. The atmosphere seems to change by the mere mention of the word. Magic. Most folks tend to stay well away from anything involving that. It wasn't easily accessible or cheap to purchase, which leads you to wonder how this could be possible.

“Are you a sorcerer?” you ask, pondering the idea.

He laughs, “Unfortunately not. I was given some seeds bewitched with a spell from an enchantress. No evil can enter this garden or my home while these flowers grow here.”

Mulling that over, you stroke the petals of the flowers in your hand, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia. His words are like a blast into your past, making you miss your mother’s magic, something that, unfortunately, does not come as naturally to you.

So, as long as you have these, you will be safe from the evil that roams in the dark blanket of night. Relief fills you, alongside a hope you thought was lost long ago.

“Thank you, this is a very kind gift.” Smiling up at him, you set the flowers back down on the ground. “Speaking of gifts, I also have one for you.” Squatting down to your basket, you lift the handkerchief off to reveal the fresh loaf of bread, the mouth-watering smell hits you, but you ignore it. “I baked this loaf for you this morning; it's still warm.”

He stares down at you, still half hiding but trying to get a better view into the basket. “F-for me?”

You nod. “Would you like me to bring it to the door?”

The silence stretches on, as his eyes bounce around the garden, looking everywhere but at you. Instantly, you panic that you've made him uncomfortable, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth and quickly, you interject, “I could just leave it in the doorway, and you can collect it when you like.”

Waiting for what feels like an eternity for a response, your feet welded awkwardly to the ground, until you hear him let out a heavy sigh. “N-no, wait by the door, I'll just be a moment,” he replies quietly, as he whisks himself away back into the shadows of the tower.

Heading in the direction of the large main doors into the castle, walking slowly along the pathway through the garden, your heart beats hard within your chest, the sound echoing in your ears, and possibly loud enough to be heard on these grounds.

Slowly, you ascend the steps and wait in the large arched doorway. The wooden doors are old and carved with grotesque faces. Leaning closer, they look to have been carved crudely and without care, seemingly having been placed out of anger or fear instead.

The sound of the wood creaking makes you jump, as the door opens just enough for you to place your basket through it. An elegant hand comes out to greet you and as you place the basket handle in it, your fingertips graze his. A vision hits.

A scene playing out before your eyes.

Images flash quickly in your mind. All of you and him. A hooded Jimin.

At first, they start off with smiles and light touches before evolving into passionate nights and warm embraces. A heat cascades through your body that you've never experienced, your face feeling aflame under his hesitant, one-eyed gaze.

“Is everything ok?” he asks, concern etched in his furrowed brow.

Swallowing hard, you nod. “I'm fine.”

You do not wish to tell this stranger about your own powers of clairvoyance. If the wrong person knew, you would be punished and left outside at night for the demons. Besides, you need to determine the meaning behind this vision first, unlike any other you've had before, they are very rarely about you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, snapping you out of your thoughts as he begins to withdraw.

“Wait,” you say urgently, “won't you come and walk with me? It's a beautiful day, and I would love a tour of the garden.”

Your eyes search the dark gap in the opening, but are unable to find anything.

“I can't.” His voice is barely audible.

“I would like it very much, if you would join me,” you ask again gently, but not wanting to push or make him uncomfortable.

“No, you wouldn't, not when you see me.” The sadness in his voice makes your chest tight.

“Jimin, I don't care what you look like,” you stress, “I do, however, want to enjoy your garden, it would be a shame if I can't have the person who created such a paradise show it to me.”

You're met with only silence until you hear a long, sad sigh from inside. “I'm sorry, I can't. Please enjoy it, I need to return to my tower.”

Before you have a chance to respond, the door is closed, and you're left longing to get to know the man who could be your future.

Scene three

Several sunsets pass, each day involving a visit to Jimin’s garden where you spend your time sitting in the floral atmosphere, letting the calmness wash over you and enjoying the sun on your face.

He stays up in his tower, watching, while the two of you speak endlessly. Exchanging tales of your childhoods, memories you’d long forgotten coming to the forefront of your mind and escaping past your lips.

You explain your love of drawing, anything you see beauty in, which nowadays isn’t much, so you drew your memories and your mother.

He expresses his love of poetry, often reading by the fire every night before bed, sometimes writing his own. Whenever there’s silence it is never uncomfortable, just more time to sit and enjoy each other's company.

You discover he’s an author, having written many stories of his own. He gifted you three of his books to read after you had begged to know his writing; embarrassing him and turning his cheeks pink until he agreed.

His way with words is like nothing you have known before. Every sentence enters through you and embeds itself in your soul. Every word is a caress to your heart, feeling his poetic prose touch places inside you never knew existed.

It inspires you.

Before you can process the thought, you reach for your last bit of charcoal and let all your emotions illustrate the page, continuing on until the morning.

As soon as the sun appears over the hill beyond the view from your window, you get ready and leave, bringing your picture rolled up and tied with the same pale pink ribbon that bound your magic, undying roses.

You can’t wait to gift him a piece of your art, and if you were honest, a piece of your heart. No feeling could describe the way your entire body felt fit to burst, with the way this man made you feel. Your heart previously only beating out of necessity rather than desire. Skipping through the gate to your usual spot, you call out, “Jimin!”

Your heart pounds wildly inside you in a rhythm that is a personalised symphony just for him. You wait only a moment before he appears, smiling out at you.

“Someone is up bright and early today,” he remarks joyfully.

Seeing him, you’re always taken aback by how your memories have not done him justice at all, especially in the bright first light of morning, his flawless skin illuminated gold from the rising sun.

“I have not yet been to bed.” You laugh.

Worry creases his brow. “Whyever not? Is everything alright?”

Holding your hands up to calm his concerns, you add, “Everything’s fine, better than fine, actually.” Your feet begin to pace in circles around the white rose bush. “When I finished your books I-”

“You finished all of them? Already?” he interrupts, bewildered.

Nodding, you continue on, “How could I not? Jimin, they’re beautiful.”

His entire face reddens before he shields it with his hood, the sight makes you flustered in a way that surprises you. Making your own skin feel hot, even on this chilly morning.

Clearing your throat and swallowing to try and ease the tightness you feel, you pull your scroll out of your basket and hold it up to him. “Now, it is my turn to give something that lasts longer than a loaf of bread.”

He peeks out from his hood, eyes widening with curiosity.

“Can I?” you ask, pointing to the main wooden doors.

He hesitates briefly. “Give me a moment.”

Rushing to the entrance, almost tripping up the steps in your impatience, you wait, fiddling with your skirt nervously. When the heavy door creaks open, your heart deafens your ears, the erratic beating the only sound you can hear momentarily. You place the scroll through the gap in the doorway and watch as his slender hand comes out to take it gently from yours, his half-face appearing from the shadows.

He pulls the bowed ribbon and you watch as it falls silently to the ground. When he unrolls your parchment your eyes remain fixed to him, observing his reaction. Watching as his apprehension turns to astonishment has your heart singing with relief. His fingers reach out, kissing the paper briefly. He stutters, then stops, words disappearing into the thin air, the breeze carrying them away.

His cheeks turn scarlet again and you watch as his eyes take in the close proximity of the two of you sketched out on the paper. Inspired by the many emotions that have been building a slow crescendo inside you for the past few weeks of being in his company. You let a story of your own play out on the page, one full of hope.

The two of you; surrounded by fragrant blooms with his tower far in the distance. Your hands entwined, with your eyes on him as he looks out of the page, hood up covering half his face in shadow.

“I-it’s beautiful,” he whispers, eyes not wavering from the picture clasped tightly in his grip. “You are very talented.”

It seems to be your turn to blush now, as you glance away shyly, mumbling a thank you.

“I will frame this and hang it in my bedroom, so I can look at it every day.”

This makes your heart soar.

“Jimin?” you speak up hesitantly, not wanting to spoil his mood or ruin the moment but unable to restrain from asking again.

He meets your eyes then, “Yes?”

“Will you please accompany me in the garden today?”

His brow furrows, expression pained as he looks back down at the picture and returns his gaze to your face. Just when hope starts to fade, he sighs and nods. “Just a moment.”

Your heart jumps gleefully, rattling your chest like a caged animal desperate to escape and be reunited with its owner.

The door closes for a few minutes and, just when you think he's changed his mind, disappointment seeping in, it opens again.

Hesitantly, he steps out. His hood is pulled up over his head, as he’s focused solely on the ground, casting his whole face in darkness. You are desperate to see him, his pillowy lips and crescent moon eyes.

Slowly, you reach out and entwine your hand with his, slotting perfectly together. He stills briefly before squeezing yours in return. That confirmation is all you need. Closing the small amount of space between you and cupping half of his face, you whisper, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he does so. You’re surprised to see his visible eye watery with tears, almost brimming over the edge, and your heart breaks. Unable to stop yourself, you wrap him in your arms and hold him tightly, cradling him close to your body. His scent swirls around you, taking over your senses and replacing the floral scent of the garden; fresh, clean and woody. Alluring in the most intense way.

His arms wind around your waist hesitantly, and when you feel him relax in your embrace, you, too, feel the swell of emotion inside. While he had not yet spoken of what had happened to him in the past, you were hoping that one day he would trust you enough to tell you his story. Who knows, today might be the day of many firsts for you both.

Scene four

Walking hand in hand, followed with sounds of the chirping birds surrounding you through Jimin’s garden, is something you didn’t realise how much you craved, until you were doing it.

Having his hand in yours feels like a dream, after so long of waiting for this bridge between you to be crossed; unable to keep the smile off your face as you tread carefully through the grounds.

It wasn’t until this day you realised you had seen only a part of this estate. Jimin leads you through a walkway enclosed with tall rose bushes, surrounding you in a floral cage.

“Did you make this yourself?” you ask, admiring the wicker trellis.

He nods shyly, glancing slightly across at you.

You are in your element here. The days spent with him are your brightest and most enjoyed, but when the walkway ends the sight that greets you has your mouth hanging open in shock.

“Jimin,” you gasp, “this is beautiful.”

Your eyes scour your surroundings. A beautiful pond covered with lily pads and pink water lilies, is encircled by large rocks and such a variety of vibrant flowers a rainbow would be envious of the colours.

“Shall we dip our feet?” you ask, childlike excitement evident on the wide-eyed look you give him. He smiles, unable to stop, but you can sense his slight hesitation. Pulling his arm, you lead him to the edge of the water where you slip off your shoes. Sitting on the stone ledge, you gently pull him down to you. Obeying your request, he timidly joins. The water is cold as you dip your toes and as you look down into it, you’re surprised by how clean it looks; able to see right down to the bottom and the fish residing there.

“You must be in this garden all the time?” you ask, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I used to, before…” He stops himself, and you can feel him tense beside you, turning his head away slightly.

“Hey, it’s ok. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A frustrated breath leaves him, his head hanging in defeat. “I do want to. I want to tell you everything,” he admits, “but I must confess, I’m not used to being around other people.”

That much you had gathered, but hearing it breaks your heart just the same.

“And,” he continues, “I have never been as close to anyone as I am with you.” He glances at you then, attempting to gauge your reaction.

Smiling, your cheeks warm from such an admission, you toy with the words you should use to respond. “I’m glad to hear that, Jimin. I can assure you, the way you feel is very much reciprocated.”

He scoffs, and the sound confuses you as you attempt to find his eyes within the darkness of the hood, but to no avail. His head hangs low. “I think you underestimate my words.”

Frowning, you grasp at what he could mean by this, and panic sets in, thinking you may have the wrong idea about the direction your relationship is heading.

“I don’t expect you to mirror my feelings and believe me, you are under no obligation to keep coming here, I do not want your pity.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Jimin, I do not pity you. I’m here because I want to be.”

He finally meets your eyes, desperately searching yours. “Really?”

Taking his hand and placing it on your chest and over your pounding heart, you say, “I have never known anyone like you. Someone so…” You search for the right wording, wishing you were capable of his prose, “fascinating. You are truly an enigma to me that I'm more than happy to keep trying to figure out.”

He looks out at the water, the sunlight highlighting the pink glow of his cheeks.

“I come here because I want to spend time with you. I wake up and look forward to seeing you everyday and I will continue to come here until you are bored of my company and turn me away,” you add teasingly, but a real fear lies underneath somewhere. You silence it by looking at your hand still wrapped with his.

He laughs, “You will never have to worry about that, I could never tire of your company, you mean far too much to me.”

Your chest tightens with an emotion you cannot hide as you lean your head on his shoulder. He moves taut under your action, but quicker than you could imagine, he softens under your touch and leans his head atop of yours. You sit there for what feels like hours, talking and basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sun until the skin of your feet turns pruned and your stomach grumbles, breaking another comfortable silence. It is only when a demonic screech echoes from the woods outside of the walls, do you realise the time.

Jumping up, water splashing as you do, you look at the setting sun and gasp. “Oh, no.”

The darkness has begun and you will not have enough time to make it home. Images of your mother’s lifeless form haunt your mind briefly before you force them away.

Jimin is up and at your side in a flash, arm cradling your shoulders. “It's ok. You're safe here,” he says gently, rubbing one of your arms with his thumb. The action soothes you and brings you comfort. “Come, you can stay with me tonight, I have many rooms.”

You relax slightly in his embrace and find yourself sinking into the crook under his arm, relishing in the close contact you've been craving. He pulls you closer, a firm grip around you and pins you to his side.

Your arm ventures under his cloak and winds around his waist, holding yourself against him.

Glancing up, he's already smiling down at you and you can't stop the blush that heats your entire face.

You both head back towards the castle, you nestled against him as the darkness slowly envelopes you. When you head up the stone steps to the castle, nerves turn in your stomach, the realisation of spending the night in his home dawning on you.

Watching the doors close, shutting out the night and the chaotic noise from outside, you sigh to yourself, feeling surprisingly at home with his warmth and presence by your side.

Scene five

The tour of the castle is long but riveting. So many rooms to explore, and he shows you every single one. Pointing out various art pieces handed down from his parents, endless novels in the library, and even an old dungeon below, unused and dusty.

He discloses that his father had died when he was little, too young to remember him, but that he has a portrait of him in his mother's bedroom he often looks at. His mother had passed away when he was fifteen, after becoming ill during a harsh winter and grew too weak to recover. He has been alone ever since. Your heart aches for him. To have been alone since then must have been truly isolating, but you could relate to him in more ways than you care to admit.

You share your story of your beautiful mother, enchanting to everyone who knew her, who had been killed by the demons just after your 18th birthday. A father who you have never known and, as far as you had been told, had never been in the picture. All you knew about him was that he was a sailor and from what your mother expressed, was more in love with the sea than her.

You learnt not to ask questions about him as it only made her sad and distant.

Your shared experience with loss and loneliness cements your bond further as he shows you the room you could sleep in, adjacent to his.

“You will be safe here. I will be right across the hall if you need me at all.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand as your fingers stay entwined the entire route through the castle.

“Jimin?” you interject.

He looks over at you, hood still pulled over, casting half his face in shadow.

“Will you take this off?” you ask, fingering the soft velvet of his cloak.

He stares at you but his eyes soon turn distant as a frown furrows deep in his brow, a scene playing out in his mind that you are not privy to. “I cannot let you see,” he whispers.

You turn him to face you, cupping his visible cheek in your hand. “I promise you, Jimin, it will not change how I feel about you.”

He laughs sadly, “It will.”

“Park Jimin, are you calling me shallow?” raising an eyebrow, you challenge him.

He simply shakes his head. “I'm a monster. You shouldn't even be wasting your time here with me.”

“You could never be a monster, your soul is far too pure and good.”

Slowly leaning up on your tiptoes, you place a chaste kiss against his cheek. “Please, don't hide from me anymore,” you beg.

His eye widens from the touch of your lips and he can't help but turn towards you, focused on your mouth. When his hand comes up to stroke your hair, you lean into his touch and before you know it, your lips are connected. Heat races through you, making your limbs move without thought, hands sliding inside his hood and around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

His arm winds around your waist as he moans into the kiss, desire and love vibrating through you. His soft, pillowy lips mould to yours, moving with fierce determination as your back suddenly meets the doorframe of your bedroom. His hands slide up your spine, pinning you against him. You luxuriate at the feeling of the strong muscles of his body pressed against you.

Wrapped up in his scent, with the feeling of his mouth on yours and his hands embracing you so tightly, your bosom grows with the love your heart has housed for him, still expanding tightly inside you.

You pull away slightly only to gasp for air, and that's when you notice his fallen hood. His body stills when your eyes connect and you see the panic in them, but before he can move, you grab his hands and entwine your fingers with his.

“I hope you are planning on kissing me again, because I don't plan on moving just yet?”

He doesn't respond, but his gaze drifts to your lips and you can see the conflict in his eyes, between running away and giving into temptation.

Detangling your fingers from his, you cup his face with both hands, your thumb strokes the puckered skin on one side of his face. The scars appear like burns, covering one side of him, marring one eye so bad he could barely see out of it. Your fingers go to his thin hair on that side, patches of it missing beneath your fingertips, he looks down and away from you but you steer him back.

“This doesn't change anything, Jimin. You're still the most beautiful man I've encountered.”

His eyes flit from each of yours, tears brimming the edges, searching for truth within them.

“I would like you to kiss me again,” you say, your voice thick with want, “please.”

Leaning in slowly, he surrenders to your request, pressing his mouth against you once more.

Scene six

When your desire subsides somewhat and your head clears, the two of you manage to part from each other, your growling stomach interrupting the shy silence.

“Shall we eat?” he asks, before taking your hand and leading you down to the kitchen.

Sitting at the table, you watch in awe as he prepares fresh tomato soup to go with the second loaf you had given him yesterday on your visit. All vegetables grown in his garden and picked by him.

You eat together in silence, exchanging flirtatious and sometimes shy smiles. When your stomachs are full, with night truly closed in, he lights a fire in the drawing room, closes the curtains, and beckons you to join him on the fur rug.

Watching him in the orange light of the fire, you feel overwhelmed with need. The need to be close to him, the need to take care of him and protect him, even the need to claim him, something you have never felt before.

“Will you read to me?” you ask, as you join him.

“If that is what you wish of me, then of course.” He grins, and you get lost in it for a moment. The way his two front teeth slightly overlap, his eyes narrowing and his cheeks rounding, everything about him draws you further into the opening blossom of love.

“May I lay on you?” you ask, pointing to his lap.

He stares at you hesitantly for a moment, before nodding and moving his hands out of your way.

Positioning yourself comfortably on the rug, you lay your head on his legs, feeling the way he tenses slightly from the action but soon relaxes under you.

His hand lingers by your hair indecisively before he pushes any apprehension away and plays with the strands loosely between his fingers. “What would you like me to read?” his voice whispers pleasantly above the crackling firewood.

“Something you've written.”

“Would you like to hear the poem I wrote for you?”

Your heart soars, hammering wildly in your chest. “You wrote something for me?”

“Hmm-mm.”

You nod frantically, nerves suddenly drying your mouth and rendering you speechless.

He clears his throat quietly and starts,

“In the quiet din of morning's light,

You creep silent and curious into my domain,

An alluring spectre; a breathtaking sight,

Welcomed like that first sweet kiss of spring rain.

The roses bend to catch your gaze,

And the dainty lilies stretch in quiet grace,

As if the garden, in silent praise,

Seeks to beholden the awe of your face.

Your fingers brush the leaves so light,

A touch that makes the greenery hum,

Like a velvety kiss of soft delight,

Or warmth from the day to come.

You pause to take in your fill,

Ivy curling in lazy spirals at your feet,

And for a moment, time stands still,

Even the songbirds pause their larking for a beat.

I watch you, quiet like a shade,

As you explore the blooms beyond my window,

Careless and free, with no mind paid,

Like a beacon of light against unrelenting shadow.

With every glance, you draw me near,

But still I keep my secret held tight,

Afraid you’ll flee if you could hear,

The pain that shapes my heart at night.

Yet in your eyes, I see a spark,

A light that calls to me, calm and clear,

A love that could find me in the dark,

And chase away my most crippling fear.

I wear this pain, my broken mask,

Staying hidden within my castle walls,

But it's in your warmth and light that I wish to bask,

A blue flower in your garden; no longer a ghost of these hallowed halls.”

A wet trail down your cheek spills onto his trousers, a swell of emotion that you could no longer contain. His angelic voice quoting such beautiful prose from memory creates a whirlwind of feelings inside you. Seeing yourself through his eyes and hearing his feelings, so raw and open, moves you in ways you could never have imagined.

You feel beautiful and emboldened.

Sitting up, your eyes meet. He smiles sweetly when he sees your tears and gently wipes them away with his thumb. Pressing your lips to his, the inability to stand the distance between you any longer overwhelms you.

As he holds you in his arms and you lose yourself in the kiss. A vision snaps behind your eyes, removing you from the moment entirely. Unlike the first one, full of love and happiness, this one freezes the blood in your veins and stops it cold as you take in every detail of the horror behind your eyes.

Fire wilts the flowers in the garden, petals curling and turning to ash. Orange light blinding and thick smoke choking, tightening your heaving chest. Demons running rampant through the grounds as you wander unsteadily to find him. And when you do, everything else around you ceases to exist, as your heart splits inside you.

Jimin's lifeless body, upturned and suspended from the tower.

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