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todoscript · 3 years

Text

making out until your phone interrupts you two

characters: bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff, suggestive

word count: 2.8k+, 850-1000 words per character

warnings: characters are aged up, suggestive and mature content, implied sexual content, minors please beware

author’s note: how did these get as long as they did

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

As your soft hands brush along the nape of his neck and pinch at strands of ash blond hair, you feel his larger, calloused hands run along your thighs. Your lips come back for each other, hot and needy. Bakugou bites down harshly on your bottom lip, eliciting a squeal that grants him an opening to pry his tongue into your mouth to melt with yours. You follow in the frantic rhythm he sets, barely keeping pace as your grip on the slim fabric of his black tank top wrinkles in your curled fingers. Smirking, his hand runs up the skin beneath your shirt. He finds your squirming all the more amusing the more he rubs and gropes.

“Aw c’mon, babe. No fun if you’re already turning into pudding this fuckin’ early. Show some resistance, why don’t ya?” He eggs you on, but doesn’t cease in his ministrations, and in fact, only makes it harder for you to show any kind of fight. You detach your lips from his, pouting profusely with a scrunched nose. He looks back at you, expression sly and slick, well aware of what he’s doing. Well, you’re going to be sure he doesn’t get the last laugh.

Shifting all your weight onto his upper body, you move him over to lay down on the couch. He peers at your form towering above him, curious as to how you go about turning the tables against him tonight. His palms are flat on your thighs, remaining there as you settle your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself. You move your head down so your lips can touch and Bakugou cranes his neck slightly to meet you in the middle. However, a clamor sounding from a phone on the coffee table sends a rift in the atmosphere you’ve established and the incessant chime captures both of your attention. Your eyes go wide before blinking in realization that it’s your phone that’s going off right now.

Much to Bakugou’s dismay, you begin moving off of him. You get up to reach for your ringing phone, but his hand grabbing your wrist is faster.

“Don’t you dare answer it,” Bakugou orders, failing to suppress the blunt annoyance in his tone.

“What if it’s an important call from work?”

Hearing your response, he begrudgingly lets go of your wrist, sitting back on the couch, and grumbling beneath his breath.

“Fuck, it better not take long then.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him. You take a glance at the screen before pressing the green icon and nestle your phone next to your ear.

As you converse with the person on the other line, the blond is glaring knives at the device, no doubt mentally sending curses to whichever asshole decided to interrupt the mood just when things were starting to get good. Now he’s contemplating as to why he was generous enough to let you answer the damn phone in the first place. Shoulda just chucked that thing into the next room, left to be forgotten as the two of you would’ve been occupied with much more important matters.

In retaliation with his thoughts, he abruptly pulls your body into his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. Being so occupied with your phone call, you don’t have much opportunity to comment on his behavior. In fact, Bakugou actually doesn’t allow you any opportunity.

Without warning, he plants his mouth on your neck, proceeding to nibble and suckle with just the right amount of pressure that makes you jolt in his lap. A small squeak leaves you, the noise eluded by the other person on the line thanks to you shifting your phone away from your mouth in time. You glare at the blond, silently asking with pointed brows what the hell he thought he was doing. But Bakugou only finds amusement in your struggles.

“Go on, keep talking, princess,” he mumbles loud enough for only you to hear and you feel his lips curl against your skin. You notice his hands busying themselves, tugging at the hem of your shirt, but despite that, you can’t do anything but continue with your conversation, unless you want your caller to start suspecting you’re undergoing other… activities as you were speaking to them.

You are so gonna get it later, mister. You mentally note your promises of retribution before returning to the chat while trying to ignore Bakugou’s mischief to the best of your ability.

After powering through the next couple of minutes of exchanges—your replies hastening and voice hitching whenever Bakugou’s ministrations became impatiently persistent—you finally say your hurried goodbyes, hitting the end call button.

That acts as Bakugou’s cue to pounce on you. He swipes your phone right from your fingertips and tosses it half-hazardously on the couch, out of your reach.

“Katsuki, you—!”

The moment you open your mouth to say something in retort, your words are cut off. Bakugou’s lips slot with yours to resume your intimate lip-lock, even more intense than earlier by how he barely allows you to draw a single breath.

“Oh no you don’t. No fucker is going to interrupt us this time, I’m going to make sure of that,” is the last he says before hoisting you up from your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist, and leading you both to your bedroom.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Entering your living room, Midoriya finds you lounging on the couch with the TV on, curled up with a blanket and watching the latest episode of a show you’ve been following. He stretches out his muscles as he approaches you, body aching at every extension of his limbs. With his groans sounding rather exasperated, you face in his direction.

“Tired?” you question as Midoriya takes a seat beside you.

“Yeah, just a bit. The villains keep getting tougher these days,” he answers, cracking his knuckles, craning his neck to relieve a particular spot that’s been bothering him. You open up the blanket to let him take refuge in your warm haven and he scoots closer to you.

As expected of being the Number One Hero, his duties to the populace only grow more challenging with each passing moment. But he knows better than to complain about the job he was so heavily entrusted to by All Might. Besides, nothing beats saving the day and putting a smile on every citizen’s face. Well, nothing… except maybe spending time with you at the end of the day.

“I’m proud of you though, Izuku. You’ve been working so hard lately,” you say sweetly as your hand goes to massage Midoriya’s neck, rubbing at just the right areas that make him relax beneath your touch. “So proud of you.”

“Y-Yeah?” Midoriya doesn’t mean to stutter, but he fights back a groan when your fingers slowly travel up to his scalp.

“Yeah…” Your voice is tenderly hushed between you two, leaning in closer, to the point where your faces are seconds from touching. With your fingers still twined in his curly green hair, you angle him ever so slightly to meet the smoldering look in your eyes. It doesn’t take much for him to mirror the expression, eyes growing equally lidded and just as desirable. Then, before you had even realized it, you both closed the distance.

Tongue and teeth immediately clash. Midoriya is quick to overpower you as you let out a giggle, being forced to lay back on the couch. With your show inevitably about to be forgotten, the green-haired male smoothly reaches for the remote on your side before pointing the off button at the TV and tossing it to the ground.

He cradles your head from behind to bring your lips impossibly closer. Your hands remain laced through unruly emerald strands, occasionally tugging at his scalp, evoking a hum that vibrates between your lips coming together again and again.

When you finally separate after a rather lengthy session of lip-locking, your breaths are ragged—faces hot. He stares down at you, transfixed by your swollen, plush lips that he wishes to dive down again for more kisses.

“God, what did I ever do to deserve you?” he asks—a rhetorical question, but you smile at it nonetheless.

“I should be asking you that, Number One Hero.” You cup his face in your hands, thumb delicately brushing against those endearing freckles of his as you’re about to pull him down again.

But, just as your eyes close, waiting for your mouths to meet, the world splits open at a blaring echo crashing upon you. You abruptly halt your movements, watching as Midoriya does the same, eyes blown wide. You both turn your heads in the direction of the sound coming from the phone next to the kitchen.

“The phone…” Midoriya murmurs, wondering who would be calling at this hour. But upon glancing over at the wall clock, you remember something. It was actually around that time you were expecting a phone call from a friend of yours anyway. It had entirely slipped your mind after being so caught up in your make-out session with him.

“Sorry, Izuku. It’s probably for me,” you inform, an apologetic smile on your face as he slowly gets off you, allowing you to cease the ringing in the distance.

Sitting up on the couch, he watches you traverse to the kitchen, his elbows resting on his thighs. He drops his head into his hands, noticing his leg hopping up and down restlessly. It’s hard to come down from his high after getting worked up like that, and with that phone call appearing out of nowhere, he’s not sure what to do with himself other than not to get too excited.

Despite that, Midoriya musters the most patience as he possibly can. I mean, the amount of times you’ve been interrupted by Midoriya’s own urgent calls coming from his agency warrants him to exercise some self-restraint, knowing how riled up you could get at times, yet still kindly letting him go about his work like the saint you are.

But after a long day of patrolling the city and defeating foes, all Midoriya desires at the moment is to drown in all the love you have to offer him and leave everything behind to think of only you and him together. He overhears your conversation due to the silence spread across your living space, making out bits and pieces but never taking the time to distinguish the topic of your discussion.

No good, he thinks. Midoriya resigns to the fact he simply can’t keep as still as he would like, already getting up from the couch to seek you out. When he finds you, you’re laughing into the phone, likely finding whatever your friend said humorous, but when he wraps his arms around you, you jerk in surprise, that same laughter replaced by a quiet squeal. You feel Midoriya’s head tuck itself in the space linking your neck and shoulder, planting a single delicate kiss on the exposed skin. He glances at you, emerald eyes gleaming in a silent plea.

You smile in reply, understanding what he wants as you hold up a finger to tell him to give you a moment. “Um, sorry, I’ll have to call you back later. There’s something I have to do right now,” you say into the phone and after exchanging farewells, dismiss the call.

Turning in his arms, you come face-to-face with the relieved look in his eye. “Baby couldn’t wait?”

He releases a sigh, smiling warily. “You know I can never wait when it comes to you.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

Fresh and clean out of the shower, you toss your towel around your slightly damp hair as you walk into the bedroom. Todoroki is already there waiting for you, sitting on the edge of your shared futon while checking something on his phone. Upon hearing your footsteps, he glances up, and smiles as soon as your eyes find each other. He clicks his phone off and sets it to the side before beckoning you over with spread arms.

You kneel in front of him and lean into his comforting embrace. His body is just the right temperature against you that soothes the heat abiding your skin from your steamy shower. Feeling you melt into his chest, he tilts his head, pressing his nose into your hair, and notes the fragrant scent of your shampoo that harmoniously washes over his senses.

“You smell… nice,” he comments, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

Honey… and vanilla…

You giggle at the tickling sensation. “I would hope so, considering I just took a shower.” Todoroki hums at your humor, lifting his head to find your eyes. He takes a moment to pay every detail its utmost attention, from your misty hair to the warmth flushed on your cheeks as his knuckles graze over your skin. You look away from his punctilious gaze, his gray and turquoise eyes making you feel small.

That won’t do, he thinks.

Before you can even process his actions, he leans forward to capture your lips. Taken by surprise, a faint sound floats above your mouth that is quickly swallowed by him.

Again… and again… and again.

As you let yourself surrender to the fervent kisses, Todoroki maneuvers you two onto your futon, where he hovers over you, lips never once parting throughout your movements. You hum in delight when his tongue immerses itself in your mouth. The gratuitous feeling doesn’t stick for long though.

A ringing sound resonates above the futon, and your attention is immediately diverted. Your motions falter beneath him, causing you to fall off beat now that your mind has one more thing to worry about. On the other hand, Todoroki is least bit concerned over the noise, unrelentingly nibbling at your lips to try and elicit more sweetness from them. Unfortunately, his fun is cut short as you lay your hand on his chest, lightly pushing him away so he removes his mouth from you.

“Shouto... My phone.”

Todoroki glances at the phone in question before returning to your form, disheveled under him. He gives you a look of indifference. “It can wait,” he states simply, about to dive down to resume what he started, but you don’t concede so easily.

“It could be important,” you reason.

Releasing a sigh, Todoroki allows you some space to turn over on your stomach and reach out for your phone, the chiming desisting as you answer it and greet whoever decided to call you at this time of night.

The conversation you’re having flies over Todoroki’s head. The only thing on his mind right now is you finishing the call and continuing where you two left off, praying it won’t take long.

However, eventually his impatience gets the best of him. His eyes wander the room simply to return to you—laying with your upper body propped on your pillow as you hover the phone next to your ear. He peeks at the small droplet of water trailing your hair just before it falls atop the skin of your neck. He seems almost mesmerized by it as it begins its trek down your collarbones, reveling in the enticing sight despite how ordinary it must be to the common eyes. For him, it just makes things all the more difficult to sit still.

Needy and with little to do, he shifts toward you.

“Right, and I– Ah!” your sentence slips on you mid-speech as you feel something cold touch the nape of your neck.

“Y/n? Everything alright?” your caller asks, static voice laced with concern that you almost overlook when the chilling sensation on your neck returns. You turn your head and discover Todoroki bending forward to place his lips repeatedly on your neck. You can’t tell if his lips are particularly colder than usual or if you’re still a little heated from your shower. Either way, the heightened sensitivity raises goosebumps on your skin.

“I-I’m fine! I just bumped into something, is all!” you reply, though your voice pitches, feeling Todoroki’s equally cool hands graze your back under your shirt.

“Oh, please be careful! The fatigue must be catching up with you after such a long day, and I did call you at a pretty late time, huh? Tell you what, we can talk about this again tomorrow morning so you can get your rest for the night, okay?”

You are beyond grateful for the convenience bestowed to you. Though, you honestly think resting is surely the last thing on a certain someone’s mind right now.

“Right! Thank you..! Have a good night!” With that, you promptly end the call. Repositioning onto your back, you cross eyes with Todoroki, making a point at hardening your expression and seeming offended. Though the man knows it’s more so a facade than anything and that you’re not actually angry at him.

“Oh, you..!” You emphasize your words with a bump of your fist against his shoulder, albeit with minimal strength.

He chuckles at your pouty lips, leaning down for a peck before moving some hair out of your face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he admits, the curve of his lips bordering on a smirk and a genuine smile that you find hard to be mad at.

“Shall we resume where we left off then?”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha imagine #bnha scenarios #mha x reader #bakugou imagine #midoriya imagine #todoroki imagine

3K notes · View notes

zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

copycat

18+, eren jaeger x fem!reader

part two of pierced

inspired by the 'big stick' scene from jawbreaker (iykyk)

wc: 3.7k

contains: mild dubcon, light dom/sub, ball play, choking, dumbification, degradation, spit, creampie

Eren can’t help but admire you from the doorway of your shared bedroom. One would think, that after 30 days of edging, you would learn not to be such a fucking tease. But here you are flitting around the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a frilly pair of lilac panties.

‘Stop being a perv. It’s hot out.’ You don’t have to say it. The ‘you’ in his head is already chastising him for the lascivious nature of his thoughts.

The ‘you’ in his head is also already bent over the granite top counter, panties long discarded, presenting yourself to him, begging ‘Please Eren. Fuck me.’

He can’t help it. Everyday he’s found himself face to face with your cute little pussy, absolutely begging to get filled and not being able to do anything about it. It’s not his fault that when he sees you wearing next to nothing, he just wants to stick his cock in you.

Except it’s entirely his fault.

That’s why even though you can feel the weight of his stare as you move around the kitchen, you don’t even spare a glance in his direction.

If there’s one thing these last few weeks have taught you, its willpower. And thanks to your newfound self-discipline you’re able to resist the urge to pounce on him when your boyfriend pulls your back against the solid wall of his chest. “Baby.” He rasps. “I’m all healed up.”

The statement makes goosebumps appear on your skin despite the sweltering heat but other than that, you show no signs of exactly how pent up you are.

Eren made you swear not to touch yourself whining about how unfair it would be and how he would really appreciate your support in his hour of need. Yes he used those exact words. You kept your promise but not without intending to receive payback. It was only a matter of how. The idea hadn’t come to you yet.

“Really?” You don’t even bother to turn around, pushing past him. Partly as a way to tease him but also because you don’t trust yourself to be able to resist him once you get a good look at him. From his scent alone you can tell he’s fresh from a shower and that’s when he’s the most dangerous. He smells cool and fresh like his shower gel, spicy and warm like his aftershave and fruity and floral like his your shampoo. It’s hypnotic.

The trance is broken when he pulls you even closer to him, grinding his bulge into your backside.

“Stop buying that 2-in-1 shit if you’re gonna use mine all the time anyways.” You grumble.

Right.

Revenge first. Dick second. The voice in your head reminds you.

You wriggle out of his hold, remembering why you came into the kitchen in the first place. You breathe a sigh of relief as you open the freezer door, the cold air providing a brief reprieve from the near suffocating heat of your apartment. Once you’ve obtained your target; a cherry popsicle hidden behind some ice packs and frozen peas, you finally take a look at your tormentor.

“Babe c’mon.” Eren persists.

He looks good. Unfairly good considering the fact that he’s not even trying. Fresh from the shower, he has on a worn out white t-shirt, stretched around the neckline which gives you a mouthwatering look at his perfectly sculpted collarbones and no more than the top of his pecs that peak out above the seam. His grey athletic shorts hang low on his hips and outline his print a little too well so you know he’s not wearing boxers. Eren hasn’t bothered to tie up his long hair leaving the damp tendrils dangling above his shoulders with a few stray strands framing his handsome face. He’s putting up a nonchalant front but the tick in his eyebrow gives his irritated disposition away.

Surely he didn’t believe that you would let him have his way with you that easily.

Except he did. Because under most circumstances he would. But today, your own stubbornness (only marginally) drowns out your desire for your Adonis of a boyfriend so you push past him into the lounge, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Later.” You bring the frozen treat to your lips. “It’s so hot.” Again, Eren tries to keep his face expressionless but you easily spot the way he clenches his jaw as his gaze fixes itself onto your mouth.

Bingo

You close your eyes, enjoying the sweet cherry taste and cool sensation that spreads throughout your body.

“On second thought,” You start, as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. “There is something else I’d rather have in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” Eren dons a matching smirk and stalks his way over to you, sitting down so that you can straddle him. “Tempting but honestly, your mouth isn’t what I had in mind.” His voice trails off, large hands moving down to cup your ass, giving the soft flesh a squeeze for good measure. But before he can take it any further you’re already manoeuvring your way between his knees.

“Oh. You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You pout, resting your head against his thigh, trying your best to sound disappointed.

Eren swallows whatever argument he was about to present when he sees your pretty eyes, shaded by fluttering lashes looking up at him with the tip of the crimson popsicle pressed against your sinful mouth. The same sinful mouth he’s been dreaming about for a month.

Fuck.

“Yeah, okay.” He grumbles while you watch him pull his already half hard cock out of his bottoms. It’s so pretty and long, perfectly thick in all the right places, decorated at the tip with a vertical running titanium barbell.

He’s got a hand around his base, waiting for you to replace the sweet treat in your mouth with his aching cock but much to his dismay your attention is drawn a little lower.

The sight of his plush balls all swollen and full of cum proves to be too much for you to resist. He shudders when your cold lips press against the taut skin. You know he’s sensitive from being so backed up. That’s why he starts panting as you leave wet kisses on his sac, leaving your saliva all over it while his shaft grows harder above you.

“Hold this for me.” You pass him your popsicle, that is slowly starting to melt which he takes in his free hand.

“Okay can you just- fuck.” One more kiss, right on the shiny metal of his newly healed piercing, shuts him up quickly.

Your own hands find their place on his thighs. You dip your head down again and take one of his balls in his mouth massaging it with your tongue.

“Christ.” He groans, slowly jerking himself off while you worship his balls.

“Oh poor baby…. so full.” You murmur letting go of the left to suck on the right one, savouring the weight of them.

“Yeah.” His voice is about a whole octave higher than usual. “Hurts.” He scrunches up his face when you let go of his ball with a pop.

“I bet.” You giggle. Eren is now at full mast, veiny shaft resting against his abdomen, dribbling precum which coats the shiny piercing that crowns his angry-red tip. His wrist flicks ever so elegantly as his hand moves languidly up and down, up and down, up and-”

“Princess.” Your boyfriend whines, yanking you out of your daze. “Enough with the teasing. You wanted to suck me off. Do it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, not losing sight of your revenge plot.

“Baby,” You pout. “I really want to but-” It’s so hard to bite back your laugh. “But I don’t remember how.”

“Wait what?” His hand stops right in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s been so long. Can you show me?”

Eren’s expression goes from perplexed to vicious but you don’t budge, blinking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

“How?” He huffs impatiently. It’s funny actually, seeing him struggle to tolerate a fraction of his own bitter medicine.

Your eyes shift to the frozen treat still in his hand that’s starting to drip down his knuckles. “I’m a visual learner.”

He moves like he’s about to stand up but you won’t make it that easy for him. “Please, Rennie? Please teach me how to suck your cock?”

As much as Eren has you wrapped around his finger, he’s just as whipped for you. So when you look at him with those sparkly eyes and call him the pet name he swears he hates but brings him to his knees when you use it, you know you have him.

Hook, line and sinker.

You use your thumb and middle finger to make a circle around his base, positioning yourself eye level with his leaking slit.

His tongue peaks out cautiously, eyes trained on yours as he flicks it across the tip, testing the waters. Immediately you follow suit, tasting his precum for the first time in so long. His hips buck off the couch, chasing the gone-too-soon sensation but you dig your nails into his thigh, reminding him who’s in control right now.

You quirk your brow at him, making sure he understands what you want.

How many times have you found yourself in this exact position: sitting between your boyfriend’s thighs while he looks down at you, both of you equally as lust drunk as the other. But this time he’s the one panting and whimpering while you have your turn to torture him.

Eren doesn’t like it. Not one bit. He wants to smack that smug little grin right off your face but instead he pulls at your hair, tugging right at the roots and making you yelp in pain. Now you’re scowling. But it’s hard to look at all intimidating sitting beneath him with your head tilted at such an awkward angle. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs clench together either.

Never breaking eye contact, he uses the flat of his tongue to lick a broad stripe up the length of the popsicle. You squirm in place, remembering how it feels to have him lick across your cunt exactly like that.

Fine. He’d play along with your little game. But on his own terms.

You lean forward to copy him but the hand holding your head keeps you in place. Without looking away, Eren launches a glob of spit onto the already drippy ice-cream before licking it away. It’s that simple for him to put a crack in your domineering façade and have you whimpering right at his feet as per usual.

The corners of his lips twitch as a silent challenge to you.

Never one to back down, you use your tongue to trace the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulsate. As you get closer to his prince Albert, you can’t hold back from swirling the wet muscle around the cold metal.

A soft whimper escapes his lips as you pull away, keeping your mouth agape, looking up at him expectantly.

It’s silent for a moment before Eren realises what you’re wordlessly pleading for. “Fucking slut.” He mutters, almost amazed before he gathers more of his saliva to drop into your mouth with a loud khwa pto echoing throughout the quiet apartment.

You close your mouth with a satisfied smile, savouring the taste of sweet, tart cherry and a flavour that is uniquely Eren, letting it mingle with your own saliva before spitting it on to his cock. You use your tongue to spread the wetness all along the shaft, leaving it covered in slick sheen.

“So fuckin’ nasty.” He groans, moving his hand from your head to push his own hair out of his face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view of you right now.

You feel the way his thigh twitches under your palm every time you come even close to his puffy cockhead and your tongue brushes across the sensitive piercing. The idea that you have him like this, desperate and whining, after weeks of him toying with you is exhilarating to say the least.

You have to rein yourself in before you end the fun too soon.

Reluctantly, you pull away and patiently await your next command.

You know what he wants next and so does he but Eren can’t help but feel self-conscious.

Of course, he loves the way you look when you’re going down him. His gallery is filled with pictures of you with your eyes filled to the brim with tears and your lips stretched impossibly wide around his girth. When you’re not around he gets off to the videos him fucking your face, relishing in the way you gag while you try to accommodate him in your throat. He doesn’t think he could ever measure up to how sexy you look with your pupils blown, lips all swollen and your spit dripping down your chin.

But just like you, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Ever so slowly, he opens his mouth and latches on to the blunt top of the popsicle. His plump lips form a perfect O-shaped pout, stained beautiful crimson from the fruit juice. Your gaze is transfixed on his face, the sharp lines and edges tinted with an uncharacteristic blush as his cheeks hollow out, to suck it in deeper.

“So pretty baby.” You breathe out.

He shudders as the cool air fans out across his wet skin.

“Yeah? ‘m pretty?” He smirks, using his free hand to drag his cock across your face, smearing his precum on your lips. “Show me how you treat pretty boys. Please?”

And how could you deny him?

Centimeter by centimeter, you pull him in. Only the first few inches, get to enjoy the warm, slippery cavern of your mouth while the rest of him has to make do with the soft skin of your hand gliding up, down and around.

“Fucking take it inside. Christ.” He groans, frustration evident as he glares down at you.

You simply shake your head a ‘no’, far too content with the taste and the weight of him in your mouth to stop suckling at his cock. If he wants more, he knows what he has to do.

The frozen treat is back between his lips and far too quickly, with not enough thought he pushes it inside as far as it can go until his gag reflex forces him to abort his mission, sputtering out red-coloured saliva.

You pull off of him as you erupt into a fit of giggles.

Eren takes advantage of the fact that you’re unguarded and in a matter of seconds he has you pinned to the floor. The poor popsicle is left in a sad, melting puddle on your couch while his long, sticky fingers circle around both of your wrists, the other hand keeping a harsh grip on your jaw.

Yeah. Not laughing now, are you?

“Was that funny to you princess?” He questions you, almost daring you to hit back.

Knowing when to quit was never one of your strong points.

“Not funny.” You say despite your giddy smile. “My pretty boy just needs more practice.” You snicker.

You’re pushing his buttons on purpose now. At best, you expect some degrading words fitting of your bratty attitude. At worst, you expect the sting of his palm to come down against the side of your face, reminding you of your place.

What you don’t expect is a wry chuckle before he says, “I forgot how bitchy you get when you don’t get stuffed full of cock enough.”

Eren frees your hands in favour of placing both of his on your knees. He spreads apart your legs as wide as they can go, dragging his coarse palms up and up to rest at the apex of your thighs. He flicks up the hem of your shirt to reveal to him the crotch of your panties that's soaked through with your arousal. He pulls them to the side to expose your cunt to him. Eren barely stops himself from tearing the flimsy fabric right off your body and only because he thinks they're pretty and wants to see you wear them again.

He can smell you. But he suppresses the desire to bury his face between your pillowy thighs for as long as you’ll let him. He knows that’s not what either of you really want.

“This needy pussy been missing me?” He coos, keeping his voice sugary sweet and dripping with condescension. He grinds his pierced tip all along your cunt, dipping under your hood to press right against your clit.

You feel it before you realise what’s happening; the burn of his fat head of his cock prodding at your tiny hole, forcing it to stretch around him.

“Jesus fuck- ‘s tight.” He grits out, managing to pop just the tip in.

Tears gather at your waterline as he impales you further and further on his cock, reintroducing your insides to him and his newest body mod. The bulb of the piercing drags deliciously over every bump and ridge that lines your walls. It just keeps going and going until it’s all too much.

Instinctively, your hand flies to Eren’s abdomen, fingers splaying across his tummy. You want to ask him to stop or wait or at the very least prep you. But you’re just so full.

He’s not even all the way in and you’re full of him everywhere. Did it feel like this before?

He doesn't give you a chance to remember.

“Move. Your fucking. Hand.” He grunts before moving it for you and sheathing his cock fully in your spasming cunt.

“Fuck Eren. ‘s big.” Your voice breaks as you utter that last word right one Eren fills you to the hilt. Your arms fly to his biceps, squeezing the muscle so tight that you’re certain it hurts him but he doesn’t complain.

No one would believe that mere minutes ago Eren was the one under your thumb. Not when he’s so quickly managed to turn you into a blubbering mess.

“Where’s that smart mouth now?” He mocks you as if he’s doing any better. In reality he’s keeping himself still, with his pressed against yours trying to regain a semblance of control, not wanting this to end so soon.

Slowly, he starts to rock his hips against you and little by little you open up around him, offering less and less resistance. Hand on the bible, he swears he can feel your gooey pussy sucking him in every time he pulls back, almost like it’s begging him to never leave again. Hand on the bible, he swears that he won’t.

“Huh?” He taunts. “Where’s the bitch who thought she could fuck with me?” He emphasises his point with one sharp snap of his hips that hits the bull’s eye.

“Eren! Right there!” You cry out as you back arches up into him but he forces you to stay down by pressing his palm firmly against your sternum.

“Right there?” He mimics your voice, with a high pitched, nasal tone. You can’t even cringe at how it sounds because the feeling of the rounded metal hitting that squishy patch deep inside you with pinpoint accuracy is too overwhelming for you to think about anything else.

“You want me to fuck you here?” His thrusts start to pick up pace. You’re finally getting used to him again and the slick juices from your pussy let’s him move as fast as he wants, as deep as he wants so you he can use his cock to abuse all of your sweet spots

You can’t exactly speak; only nod, as you dig your nails into his shoulders and back, leaving a trail of crescent shaped indents in your wake. The coil at the base of your belly twists tighter, tighter and tighter still as all your nerve endings work overtime to register the way he fills you up completely, the way the metal rubs along all the right spots and the way Eren rams into you like a man possessed.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” Now you’re begging. It’s impossible to stop the fear bubbling in your chest. You’ve become well-acquainted with this feeling. Absolutely drowning in pleasure and right on the edge of an unimaginable peak before having it ripped away. It’s not unreasonable to be worried that Eren might leave you high and dry once again.

He halts his movements the moment he notices the doubt behind your eyes.

Your pleas become more and more frantic, already thinking the worst. “Don’t stop Eren! Please don’t stop.” You sob but go silent when his hand rests itself firmly around your throat.

“Told you.” He punctuates the sentence with one, deep thrust.

“Fuck. What did I say?” He growls as he falls back into the same brutal rhythm that had you teetering on the very brink of an orgasm before.

God above as your witness, you try and answer but all that comes out is a pathetic squeak of his name before he cuts you off completely by squeezing your neck tighter.

“S-said I was gonna fuck you stupid. Right?”

You nod as best you can, head spinning from the lack of air and your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Now fuckin’ cum for me so I can keep my promise.”

The second his hand meets your clit, you’re a goner. The calloused pad of his thumb rubs the neglected nub with exactly the right pressure to push you over the edge. Every muscle clenches as that tightening coil finally snaps. The intoxicating pleasure that shoots through your body reaches your head at the same time as the pressure on your throat is released, much needed oxygen flooding your brain and prolonging the high.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as cream around his cock. It’s pointless to hold off his release any longer and with nowhere else to go he spills his load deep in your pussy. The feeling of his hot cum seeping into your pussy has you twitching around him, trying to milk every last drop from him.

You may have blacked for a second, eyes fluttering open as Eren gently taps your cheek. His handsome face, all flushed and sweaty comes into focus. Both of you are wearing equally dopey grins as he asks you, “Did it feel as good as I said?”

#tw dubcon #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan smut #eren smut #aot smut #snk smut #eren yaeger x reader smut

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

What A Good Little Girl

Warnings: Non-Con, Degradation, Humiliation

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I’ve uh,,, I did a fic. Headcanons probably would’ve had it gone out quicker but I was kind of excited to do this,,, hope you like it!! I think I’m depraved with this but I’m not totally sure!! Its hard for to be like “hm, is this heavy or am I reaching?” anyways, enjoy!

Your hands grab fistfuls of the comforter, pulling on it, desperately trying to grab onto something to pull yourself away from him. Your knees dig into the mattress, hands letting go of the cloth and reaching out to grab the linen, pulling it away, your teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, hope and fear coursing through your veins as you reach to grab the various layers that decorate the once pristine bed. You’re desperate, crying and begging, shouting until your voice is hoarse, until you’re sure that blood runs down your throat.

His hands are on you, nails digging into your bare hips, the skin ripped and blood spilled as his fingers hook into your underwear, pulling it down, exposing your cunt and your bum. Your nails drag against the bare mattress, mouth open in a scream of help with spit spilling out and making the white sheets translucent.

“Stop!” You shout, trying to dig your toes into the slipping bedsheets. “Please!” Your sobs are ripped out of you, hoarse and ruined as tears stream down the curve of your face. Your body is flipped over, his fingers leaving bruises along your sides. Hair spills in front of your face, catching on your tongue and sticking to your cheeks. “Overhaul, I’m begging you!” You spit the hair out, your mouth parted as you gasp for breath.

He’s looming above you, the sharp point of the mask poking against your nose, his knee in between your legs, the front of it pushing against your sex. His hands grasp your wrists, pinning them above you, his eyes frantic and wide.

“I love you.” You can hear the smile on his words, gracing them with a twistedness that you’ve only heard in movies. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You stop your thrashing, chest heaving and nails pressing against your palms. “Let me go. I swear, I- I won’t tell anyone. Just- Just, please-” your voice cracks, praying to any god above that is willing to listen that they would show the humanity in your attacker- “let me go.”

“No.” His answer is simple and your trashing resumes, your legs kicking out, screams tearing through the air and his knee presses further against your sex. “Shut up.” You refuse to listen to him, crying out, your wrists swirling and twisting, an escape attempt that is futile. His hand slams against your face, smushing your face lips wetting the palm of his hand. “I said-” his voice is cold, harsh and unforgiving, eyes narrowed at you- “shut up.” You let out a shuddering breath against his palm, your shouts lowering into a whimper. His hands claw, nails scratching at your chin. “I lied when I said I’m not going to hurt you.” Your blood runs cold and your body still, heart beating rapidly against your ribs. “I don’t want to but if I have to train you, then I will.” His head tilts, his eyes pushing upwards, the smile hidden beneath the god-awful mask. “Understood?” You nod to your best attempt, and his smile presumably falls. “I asked you a question. I expect a response.” His fingers press against your forehead and you hate to think of his touch on you. “I’ll ask once more.” His head tilts and you can feel the aura that oozes off of his body- it’s slimy and thick, tar-like and nauseating. “Understood?”

“Yes, Overhaul,” you whimper. You swallow the lodge that formed in your throat, teeth clenching at the pain of the raw wounds inside your throat. “I understand.”

He relaxes, the smile returning, the point of mask gently rubbing against you as if it were giving you a kiss. “I’m going to let your wrists go but if you dare to try anything, I’ll disassemble you. Don’t make me do that. I’d hate for our room to be bloodied.”

You want to vomit. Your fingers twitch as his hand releases your wrists and the need to survive wants to strike up at him but the look of his eyes make you stop. They’re unforgiving. You know that he isn’t lying. He’d ruin you in a heartbeat, in less than a blink of an eye if you even made a sudden movement. You lie still, your wrists aching and you have to ignore the urge to rub at them.

He grabs you roughly, pulling you onto your feet. Your bare body is against his, your chest against the fabric of his shirt. His hand rests on the beginning curve of your bum, his eyes, bright as the sun and golden like the blood of gods, burns into your very soul, marring you in a way that you will never be clean ever again.

He holds you tight, his arms circling around you and hands slipping around your body. His chest rises and dips, even breaths that meet your chest. His hand turns over, bringing it under the cusp of your breast, goosebumps pricking at your skin. His thumb rises, edging under your nipple, pushing the pebbling bud upwards. He places the curve of his beak against the curve of your neck. You hear a sharp inhale, his beak brushing against your pulse point, edging it closer to you, the point of it pressed close to you. When he pulls away from you, his eyes have widened slightly, head tilting at you. His arms release you and he steps backwards.

He stands in front of you, his heels clicking against the floors. “Kneel.” There’s defiance inside of you, wanting to snarl and spit at him and as if noticing that you still have that bit of urge to fight inside of you, he flexes his hand open. You kneel. Your knees digging into the floor, hands flat on your thighs. “Beg for it.”

The room is silent, unable to hear anything but your own heartbeat that echoes in your ears. “What?” You ask in a horrified whisper, hands clawing on your thighs, leaving marks in its wake.

“I want you to beg for my cock. I want you to beg for me to fuck you.” A shiver of disgust runs through your body. “I already love you but to be honest, the whole appeal of sex has never been a favorite of mine. But-” his fingers snap and you look up at him immediately- “I would like to be your first.” Your mouth opens in defiance but he raises a hand and you fall silent. “I’m aware you’ve been with women before but never with a man. I’d like to be your one and only.” Your body is filled with ants, crawling inside of you, scratching under your skin, the shiver makes your twitch, a jerking motion of your shoulder as you your mouth is filled with poison. He takes a step closer to you, the sound of metal clinking together as he undoes his belt. “You’re going to beg, and you’re going to do it well because if you don’t-” his hand grasps at your chin, smushing your cheeks together, and with a careful hand, he removes his mask placing it on the bed beside you, a face that you sure would have been beautiful if not belonging to the monster that stands above you contorts into a mess- “I’ll make sure that you feel every second of pain that I’m going to bring to you.” He releases your face and stands back up right, a tent in his boxers that shows how much pleasure he’s getting from the entire experience. “Beg for it.”

Humiliation courses through you and no matter how much you try to hype yourself up in your head, trying to ingrain the idea that if you don’t do what he’s asked of you, the punishment will be worse than you can imagine. Any defiance inside of you dies quickly, a flame snuffed out by a cold gust of wind that leaves the room devoid of light and warmth.

He clears his throat and you flinch. Your lips are dry, your tongue heavy with acid and with your eyes downcast, you speak with tremors. “Please, Overhaul.” You want him to kill you, you’d prefer it rather than anything else but a death with him wouldn’t be simple. “I- I want-” you might throw up- “your cock.” Tears burn your eyes and you’re begging for something worse than death on your knees.

“Do better.”

You bite on the inner corners of your lips. “I want to suck on your cock. Please.”

The palm of his hand burns against the side of your face, a print left of it as you curl on the floor, a hand holding you up and the other cradling where he has touched you. Your face pulls into a frown, gasping for breath, trying to not give him the satisfaction of you crying.

“I told you to do better.” His voice is cold, and when you look up at him, he’s rubbing the palm of the hand that had struck you.

You slowly come back to your original position, rising to while holding your cheek, the other hand coming to graze your pubic mound, fingers touching lightly on it to cover the intimate area. “Plea- Please Overhaul. I-” you swallow the poison in your mouth and look up at him with watery eyes- “Overhaul, I’m on my knees. Please, let me suck your cock. I want your cock so badly- I- I-” your face stings and you curve your hand to cover your mouth, the hand above your pubic drifting off to the side as you spread your legs- “I need your cock in my pussy.” His eyes burn against your body. Your mouth parts behind your palm, the hand on your thigh lifting and hiding behind your palm. The index and middle finger rest on the flat of your tongue, your lips closing around the knuckle, cheeks hollowing as you wet your fingers, sliding them out and looking at the tent in his boxers that twitches when your spit coated fingers touch at your clit. “Let me have the honor of sucking on your cock.”

He inches closer to you and you can see the tip of where his cock rests darken. “Say that you're a filthy bitch who wants cock.”

Your fingertips press against your entrance as you try to remember a previous partner, so desperate to make yourself want this. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock.” Your fingers tickle at the inside of your walls, the spit making the stretch a bit less painful.

His hand rests above your head, fingers gripping against you to force you closer to his cock, nose against the tip. “Bark for me.” His cock leaks, arousal dripping on the tip of your nose and slipping to your cupid’s bow.

Hopelessness fills you. “Arf.” Your hair knots into his fingers, a sharp tug on your scalp. “Arf! Arf!” Your fingers curl inside of you, your head lifted as he tugs on your hair. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock! I’m a little bitch just for you Overhaul! Please let me put my mouth to use and fuck my mouth! Arf!” His cock is pushed against your lips, splitting and the pre-arousal spilling past your teeth and filling your mouth with something bitter. Your fingers pump inside of you, trying to force arousal to drip. His hands curve to the back of your head, gripping your hair and forcing you further against him. “I’m just a filthy bitch! I want your cock, please! Arf!”

His cock pushes inside of your mouth, your eyes widening and squinting in distaste at the arousal that is forced down your throat. He holds himself close to you, his bills pressing against your chin. Your tongue is against his underside, the salty taste of him infiltrating your mouth and forcing you to remember how he tastes and feels.

“Move your tongue.” His orders are strict and you listen because you have no right to disobey him. Your tongue slips around him, feeling the vein that rests alongside him, the soft dip against his cockhead. “Keep fingering yourself but don’t you dare make a mess.”

Out of habit, you make a sound of understanding, the muffled voice surrounding his cock send vibrations against him. He grips your hair tighter, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, the bitter scent of his skin pressed firmly against your nose. The tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat, a bitter taste that slides down your throat, thin and slippery that makes you feel sick. Tears spill past your eyes, sliding down to drip from your chin and land on your breasts. Nausea is heavy on your tongue, your fingers still inside of your cunt, the small bit of arousal that you forced to coat your fingers has finally dried and now your fingers are tight inside of you.

“You aren’t touching yourself,” he grits through his teeth, taking a small step further towards you. Your body stiffens and the hand knotted into your hair pulls away, smoothing over the stinging pain with a soft pet. “You know I hate messes, right?” You make a sound of confirmation with his length still inside of your mouth. Your fingers have begun to twitch, curling and petting over your velvety walls that slowly dribble with arousal. “I told you I would punish you, didn’t I? To keep fingering yourself and not make a mess? Well, you listened about not making a mess, but you still defied me.” Your body stiffens and he coos in a clincal voice, his hands slowly coming to curve to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to press firmly on your skull. “Well, consider this a lesser punishment for not listening to me. If you do that again, I might be forced to do something that you’ll regret.”

He pulls away from you, his cock slowly sliding out of your tightly closed mouth, his cockhead remaining between your teeth, more of the sickly, bitter thin arousal lands in a puddle on your tongue. He orders for you to open your mouth wider and you do so, the flat of your tongue resting on the underside of his cock and you take a shaky breath, tears still fresh and clinging to your lashes when he pushes himself forward, and you choke on your last breath.

His cock hits against the back of your throat in such a forceful manner that the only thought you’re able to hold onto coherently is that you’ll be left with a bruise. He slams to the back of your throat, holding tightly onto your skull.

Overhaul is unforgiving, holding your head to the hilt of cock, your nose squished against his groin and he stills for a moment. Your eyes water, spit running through the gaps in your mouth and his hand slaps firmly against your cheek. It’s an unwelcome feeling, the firm pat of his hand against your face, touching against his throbbing cock that pushes so deep into you that you are unable to breathe. He holds himself closely to you and one of his hand lifts, only to hammer against the other, pounding your skull closer to his skin. Tears burn their mark on the curve of your face, sliding and mixing with the thick, slimy spit that coats your shin and drips to your breasts and onto the back of your hand that is nestled into your cunt.

He pulls away, his cock bobbing with spit hanging onto him and dripping off in thick strings to the floor. It splatters against your legs and it’s uncomfortably warm. You gasp for breath, your face burning and lungs expanding with precious air. Your jaw aches, opened wide for a monster who claims to love you, who wants you pure and yet defiles you with the very body that he keeps so clean.

It’s a second of relief, the only pause you have in this nightmare of a scenario before he pushes into you once more. He swings into your still body, feeling the back of your throat with semen running down your throat. You are unable to move, your fingers slowly becoming coated in arousal that is induced by fear. The vision in the corners of your eyes begin to be speckled by black dots, your mind slowly lost as your hands curve around his thighs and nails press into his skin, a desperate attempt to be let go from the current scene that you are stuck in. He ejaculates into your mouth, spilling and forcing it down your throat even as your cough and speckles fly and land on his thigh.

Survival instincts take over and you are uncaring of any punishment that can be given by him. You slap his thigh, begging in a muffled cry to be let go. His hand hammers to the back of your skull as a warning sign, and you still, the muscles in your legs tense and you are desperate to be let go, to breath for a moment as your vision starts to grow dimmer by the second.

With a brief moment of mercy, he pulls away and you gasp for air, holding onto your chest that burns from restriction, your heart pumping madly. Your hearing goes distant as you focus on survival, unable to hear the scratching of fabric against each other, your vision blurry with tears missing that his bare legs come into view and walk away from you. You are on all fours, sobbing and begging to be let go, that you won’t speak a word of this. You trip over your words, blubbering, watching as spit that coats our chin drips to the floor, your sex hardly wet and the fingers that were inside of you moments ago are now curled into your hand in disgust.

There is a horrible brewing inside of you, whatever fight that you left in you has disappeared, leaving you a broken husk of a person that was ruined by a man. Someone so clean and orderly, respected and cared for, has made you filthy, has ruined you internally and outside, ruined your worth with an intimate act saved for lovers. You are on your hands and knees, crying and begging to be let go, acidic spit coating your tongue as you promise him that he’ll be the only man you ever love as long as he lets you go. But your words are nothing more than fuel for him to continue, evil growing deep inside of him as he saunters to you, gripping you the hair and raising you, pearls of discharge bead from his slit as he listens to your cries. He walks and tosses you onto the bed and with realization of what is to come, you sob harder and bury your face into the bed, your hands clinging to the bed sheets that you held onto so tightly long ago.

“Make sure you cry, okay?” His lips are on your shoulder blades in a gentle kiss. “I want you and I both to remember who it was that took your virginity. Remember that I claimed you.” His hands are cold as the trail down your body, his legs kicking yours open and you can feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. He enters you, and you squeal, your scream high-pitched and hands tearing into the sheets.

Overhaul is cruel, slamming his hips into yours in a telling way that he does not care for your own pleasure but is purely seeking out his own. With every thrust, he meets with a cry, your back arching and something war and slick spilling onto your inner thighs and you can only hope with a muddled mind that he’s spilled inside of you, but you know that that isn’t the case. You cry his name and it's ruined on your tongue, stuttered out and broken, filled with agony and hate, drenched in everything evil and it matches who he is.

“Fuck-” his curse is cut off by breathless laughter- “you were a virgin!” His nails dig into your hips and your fears are confirmed. “Staining my cock is pure blood,” he claims and you can hear the smile, “you really are everything good and pure.” It's a mockery to hear those words. Time is blurring and your mind is starting to escape you, leaving you there to be motionless as he uses you to his own pleasure. He grunts above you, sweat clinging to you and your tears sliding down in silent sobs. Your hand is limp as he pushes it above you, curving over you as he holds your hand. Finally, in a ruined state, you can feel his seed spill inside of you, dripping in thick, white ropes that paint you pink and white, red messily swirled inside of you.

He pulls away with a gasp and his lips are on your burning body. He picks you up, holding you close to his chest, his heart beating reminding you that he is human. Overhaul picks you up and brings you into a bathroom and he lets you rest inside the tub, the water spilling onto your feet and soon rising to your collarbone. He joins you and washes your body with the scent of vanilla and orange blossom filling the air. His lips are pressed against your face, kissing you in what should be a loving motion as you cry and turn your body into his chest, mumbling how everything hurts. His hands are gentle on your body, cupping your sex and kissing your trembling lips.

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #yandere overhaul #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki x reader #kai chisaki imagine #yandere chisaki kai #bnha imagine #overhaul imagine

186 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

People Can See [Maxwell Lord x F! Reader] SMUT

Request by @luvzoria: hey sweetpea! i have a req! you obviously don't have to do this but it's my birthday today and it gave me the idea of surprise sex? with any pedro character (personal favs tho : max lord, pero tovar, frankie, marcus moreno, and javier peña)surprise birthday sex 👀 in a risky public place maybe? public teasing? if you're okay with that!! again thanks hun!!

Rating: 18+

Warnings: SMUT— unprotected p in v, public sex, exhibitionism, creampie, Max has a daddy kink, a lot of teasing, fingering, and also mention of food.

Word count: 2.6k words

Authors note: Happy birthday lovey! Michelle, I'm sorry this is a few days late but this is for you angel! I hope it's okay and I hope you had a fab day all things considered. I send you all my love. Xx

Masterlist

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you," the guests at your annual birthday gala hummed in unison as your favourite chef brought over your cake. Courtesy of your boyfriend Maxwell, it was a three tier chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and your name delicately placed on top in intricately detailed fondant.

"Maxie," you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes. You placed your hand on your boyfriend's thigh, rubbing it under the table. "This is too much. You shouldn't have."

"Anything for you, my princess," he whispered, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Leaning in further, he pressed a kiss into your lobe, before giving it a small and teasing kitten lick. You grabbed his thigh even harder, your fingernails digging into his skin and giggled at your gesture. When he pulled away, he quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, as if to ask why are you giggling? He knew fine well. "Make a wish." he mumbled as he interlocked his fingers with yours.

There was no way you could possibly wish for anything. Dating Maxwell Lord meant that you could never want for nothing. He provided you with a beautiful home, lavish and luxurious clothes and jewellery, but most importantly he provided you with his love and warmth. You closed your eyes and wished that this happiness would last forever. There was no place you'd rather be, surrounded by your family and friends on your birthday— but most importantly, with Maxwell, the love of your life.

"You kept teasing me at the table." you muttered with a joking roll of your eyes. You and Maxwell were walking along the table filled with little bites to eat. Picking at the finger food, you both filled up your plates.

"Now sweetheart, you know that wasn't teasing," he chastised with a smirk. You nodded, knowing that he could do much worse. "Teasing could be you rubbing my thigh all night, huh? Did you think about that?"

As a matter of fact you had. Maxwell looked so handsome in his three piece tuxedo. The black pants and matching Armani jacket with the white button down suited him so well, but it didn't change the fact you desperately wanted to peel off that bow tie and have him gag you with it. You supposed it could wait until you got back to your hotel suite. You didn't answer, picking up a small item of food and shoving it into his mouth. He took it willingly, but stopped to wrap his lips around your finger, sucking teasingly.

"Maxie," you groaned wantonly. "People might see." He pulled off you with a pop.

"Let them watch." he shrugged casually before picking up another piece of food to go onto his plate.

Your birthday gala was a massive success, but you had no doubt it would be. Maxwell was always the best at hosting events. Your favourite part of the night was when he held you in your arms and you slow-danced to Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis, which was one of Max's all time favourites. You rested your head into your boyfriend's chest as his arms held your waist, swinging your hips in time with the music.

"You look absolutely stunning in that dress," Maxwell growled in your ear. You recognised that lilt in his voice immediately. Leaning back, you caught a glimpse of that primal look on his face, as well as a glint of lust in his already darkened eyes. "So glad to call you mine."

His hand maneuvered round to the curve of your ass and you felt your cheeks begin to heat up as you slowly looked around the ballroom, hoping nobody had noticed Maxwell's sudden onset affection. Thankfully, they hadn't. Other couples were too busy gazing into one another's eyes, or feasting upon the buffet on the other side of the room. In a crowded room, all Maxwell could focus on was you, his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend.

"I love you." you confessed with a happy hum.

"I love you too darling."

The night was still young but it seemed most people had taken a break from dancing, filing back to their tables to chat some more. You were making your way around all the different tables, wanting to make sure to speak to everyone and thank them for coming and bringing gifts. You slid into an unoccupied seat at the Black Gold Cooperative table, a huge smile on your face as you began talking to your old colleagues, and Max's employees.

Max approached you, holding a tired Alistair in his arms. Alistair, his son, was hugging one of your balloons tight to his chest as he fell in and out of sleep. "I'm gonna take Alistair back to our hotel room, he's exhausted," Maxwell announced and you nodded in affirmation before gently pressing a kiss into Alistair's forehead. "I won't be long." he promised before walking away.

"Mr Lord is so sweet for doing all of this for you," Raquel, Maxwell's assistant gushed.

"You know you can call him Max when he's not here." you giggled and Raquel blushed.

"Well I remember when Mr Lor- I mean Max first met you. He changed almost instantaneously. Less miserable, more polite. We all think you made him into a better person." Raquel revealed.

"Really?" you questioned, your eyes going wide at her revelation. The rest of the table nodded their heads in unison, confirming your question.

When Maxwell returned, his bow tie was slightly wonky and his hair had fallen out of it's style. You tucked a loose strand back into place. "You okay?" you pouted, letting your fingers trace the buttons on his shirt. You pulled out a chair next to you so he could sit down at the table.

"Yeah, Alistair couldn't settle so I had to sing to him," he frowned. "You should've been there," he chastised you teasingly. "You're usually the one who sings him lullabies."

You giggled, resting your head on Maxwell's shoulder. "You're such a good daddy."

Daddy— it was the word that set a fire in Maxwell's stomach and you knew it. Everytime you said it, you said it deliberately. You said it to gain a reaction out of him. You felt his body stiffen up and you watched as his hand slowly glide over his crotch, covering his hardening cock. It was crazy how just one word spoken by you could get him going. The rest of the table cooed and awed in delight at how sweet you both were, but even Max knew that your intentions were far beyond sweet. He'd been teasing you all night at your own birthday party, but two can play at that game.

Maxwell stayed silent for the next few minutes as you laughed and joked with your friends, telling them about how brilliant your birthday had been. He fidgeted awkwardly, his dark eyes watching you intently as you took small sips of your champagne and fumbled with the gold rings adorning your fingers. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He didn't know how he had gotten so lucky.

When you were deep enough into conversation with Raquel about the brand new 1984 Polaroid camera Maxwell had gotten you, he took his chance to slide his hand up the hem of your dress. He peeled back the thin glittering sheath and drew small circles into the inside of your thigh. His actions almost took your breath away but you kept your cool, acting unfazed, like it wasn't even bothering you.

It would be okay. His hand was under the table cloth and nobody could see anyway. If he just wanted to stroke the soft skin of your legs, that was fine too. As long as you acted normal, pretending like your boyfriend wasn't touching you in front of all these people. You were doing a good job of seeming unbothered, it actually irked Max. He was doing all of this to see your reaction. He maneuvered his large, ring clad hand to the apex of your thigh, rolling the pads of his middle finger and index finger along your slick wet folds. You were evil for not wearing panties tonight. He couldn't believe how soaked you already were from just the slightest of touches, but, to be fair, you two had been teasing each other all night. His finger inched up to your clit and he began to swirl it around in tight circles.

The gasp you let out was almost inhumane and you felt your cheeks heat up. Maxwell kept working at you, trying to hide the smirk that graced his lips.

"Are you okay?" Raquel asked inquisitively.

Before you could even reply, Maxwell slid one thick finger into your aching core, doubling down until you felt his knuckles against your skin. "Y-yes," you choked out, reaching for your glass of champagne. "Think I just need a drink."

Your boyfriend continued to pump his finger in and out of you whilst sitting at the same table as his own employees. You kept taking sips of your drink to try and hide the longing moans that escaped your lips as he stretched you out. You felt wonderful around him, and he couldn't help but slip a second finger in. You made a fist, bunching up the material of your dress in your hand. When you began to feel your walls flutter around him, you knew your orgasm was approaching and that you wouldn't be able to stay quiet for him. You grabbed his wrist and shot him a knowing look. Slowly, he removed his finger from your core and you groaned at the loss of his fullness.

"Want more?" he whispered into your ear. You nodded quickly and he took your hand, whisking you away from the table and into a dark corner.

You began to palm at him through his pants, already eagerly trying to tug off his tuxedo jacket and pull off his bow tie. "C-can we go to the hotel room?" you asked, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. You pushed your body against his as his hands stroked your bare arms, relishing the moment.

"Oh honey, but Alistair's up there sleeping," Max cooed, shaking his head. You furrowed your eyebrows together in disdain.

"Maxieee," you groaned, pressing your thighs together. "But I need you."

The three words made Maxwell's cock twitch. He needed you too. He could already feel his precum begin to leak out from the tip of his manhood, staining his underwear. He looked around the ballroom. Everyone was too busy dancing and talking to notice you and Max had even left the scene. "Do you think they can see us?" he asked quizzically, his voice low as he brought his hand to your breast. He began to massage it through the thin material of your dress, giving it the occasional squeeze.

You contemplated his words. You were under a canopy, in the shadows. They probably wouldn't be able to see you from where they were standing, but if anyone approached this area, you'd soon become visible. "Right now? No, I don't think so." you hummed, weighing the scenario out in your mind. Max nodded his head in agreement before bringing his hand to your face. Under the dim light, his fingers still shone with your arousal, from when he had fingered you under the table earlier.

He brought his index finger to your lips, tracing them gently before pushing it into your mouth. You whimpered, sucking on his finger (just like he'd done to you earlier), and lapping up all your juices. Your bodies were pressed together and you began to run your knee over his erection, earning a few strangled moans from Max. "Now now Maxie, what are we going to do about this?" you hummed around his finger before he eventually pulled it away from you.

He looked around the ballroom once more, astonished that it had been a few minutes and no one had yet to see you both. He placed his hands on your hips and pressed you against the wall, unzipping his pants and pulling them down to his knees, along with his black pair of boxers. Your eyes widened when you saw how hard he already was for you, how desperate his thick cock was for your pretty little cunt. You dropped your hands to the base of his manhood and gave it a small stroke.

"Ngh— no," Max shook his head as he choked out a groan. "Just need to be inside of you." he confessed.

He pulled up your dress so it was bunched around your waist and propped up one of your legs, wrapping it around him. He pressed the blunt head of his cock against your entrance and you gasped wantonly, spreading yourself as open as you could and running your fingers through his hair.

"People might see." you whispered, grinding your pussy along his cock in desperation. He kept nudging himself against you, teasing, as always.

"You're so fucking hot," Maxwell whispered, gently pushing himself into you. His hand snapped up to your mouth, trying to silence your moans of pleasure as his thickness stretched you open. "You're so tight for me, aren't you princess?"

You couldn't even reply, and instead just nodded as the lust clouded your every thought. He doubled back before pushing himself completely into you, enjoying the way felt around his manhood. He couldn't believe how lucky he was, having you all to himself, not having to share you with anyway. He couldn't believe was fucking you in front of hundreds of guests at your own birthday gala— and you were letting him. "You- fuck, you take me so well." he praised.

"Oh Max, I don't think I'm gonna last long." you admitted, digging your fingernails into his dress shirt as he increased his speed. He was hitting that sweet spot inside of you everytime.

"I'm gonna make you cum at your own birthday party," he announced with a low, gravely chuckle. "Gonna cum around daddy's cock, aren't you princess?"

"Mm, yes daddy. Please let me cum on your cock— ah!"

You bit down on his shoulder as his hips snapped into yours and you felt your climax undo, nothing but pure satisfaction washing over you. As Max felt you quiver around him, it spurred him over the edge and he spilt ropes of his seed inside of you, painting your pretty walls.

You stayed there for a few moments, against the wall, both heaving and panting, until Max's cock eventually softened and fell out of you. He sighed, carefully dropping you back to the ground and tucking himself back into his pants. You smoothed out his hair and he used his thumb to swipe away any of your smudged makeup.

"Happy birthday princess," he mumbled, pressing a sweet kiss into your lips. "Are you ready to go back to the party?"

You nodded happily, kissing him back. "I am. I love you so much."

Maxwell took your hand and held you close, the both of you heading back into the light and walking over to the dance floor. "I love you too." he revealed as he wrapped his hands around your waist and began to slow dance with you again.

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radiorenjun · 3 years

Text

I Don't Need It

• Pairing: Na Jaemin x Reader

• Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff

• Na Jaemin despised the idea of soulmates, he wanted to fight against fate for choosing his soulmate for him. Even if it means his stubborn childhood best friend wouldn’t stop trying to make him accept about the similar tattoos on their wrists.

• Warnings: mental breakdowns, heartbreak, rejection, major angst, arguments, flashbacks, physical injuries, fighting, underaged drinking, panic attacks, slight mentions of death. things are going to get much better from this chapter on. Or is it?

• Wordcount : 9.2k

• Masterlist here!

• Chapters: XV, XVI

“Oh dear Lord. Na Jaemin once listened to What Is Love by Twice and took it way to heart,” Hyuck tsked, shaking his head in disappointment, earning a few threatening glares from his older friends as they watch the lovesick boy sulk in his seat on the lunch table. “What? Am I wrong?” he asked, lifting a brow at them with an innocent shrug.

“Fuck off, Hyuck,” Jaemin groaned, waving his friend off as he stared back at his phone screen with an empty expression. “Damn, Captain out here using the government name. What’s up with him?” Younghoon asked, walking up to the sulking boy with a towel over his shoulder, passing the cloth to Jeno. “He got into a huge argument with y/n the other day at the library,” Donghyuck explained, sighing as he patted his friend’s back sympathetically.

“Yikes, I take it that it didn’t go so well?” Jihoon asked, wincing as he examined Jaemin’s seemingly lifeless state. The boy in question currently resembled a kicked puppy, his eyes held no emotion other than sorrow and heartbreak. Jaemin looked so ‘down in the dumps’ (as their coach had said before giving him a small time out) you could see his soul slowly leaving his body.

“No shit, dude. She told him to fuck off,” Hyuck hissed, wincing at the thought of his own soulmate telling him to get out of his life. “Ouch, for real?” Younghoon scrunched his nose, looking down at his captain who’s expression darkened as he looked down at his dirty sneakers. “I didn’t know Y/n could say that to the Na Jaemin, himself. Are you sure you aren’t just hallucinating things, Capt?” he asked once again, looking down at the boy before him.

“He had it coming, really. Have you seen the awkward moments we had to go through because of how they keep pulling and pushing each other away? Damn, it was like I was watching a shitty anime adaptation on netflix,” Hyuck shook his head, tutting under his breath. Jaemin slowly raised his head up at the two boys towering over him, staring daggers into their souls.

“I would very much appreciate it if you guys could stop gossiping about me like I’m not listening right in front of you and fuck off. Let me mourn for the rest of my life in peace, please,” Jaemin rolled his eyes, leaning the side of his face against his knuckles as he propped his elbow up on the table. “He’s got it bad, huh?” Chani commented, walking up to the boys and leaning his arm over Hyuck’s shoulder.

“Definitely,” Hyuck agreed, nodding.

“Lee Haechan, you’re not helping either,” Jeno rolled his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest. “Well what am I supposed to do, man? I gave him advice and all he did was just talk and do little things. Jaemin, listen, to win a girl’s heart you gotta go big or go home,” Hyuck advised with an enthusiastic tone, receiving nothing else but a heavy sigh from the said boy.

Jeno gave out an annoyed groan, snapping his head around to look at his best friend. “So what are you going to do now? Are you really going to leave her alone?” he asked hesitantly, watching Jaemin’s sulking state carefully. Jaemin hummed, shrugging nonchalantly, pursing his lips in thought. “Well, if that’s what she wants then, I guess I have no choice,” he mumbled.

“What? Really?”

“Look, what do you want me to do? I fucked up. I tried to fix things by small actions and waited for her to be more comfortable with me and I still fucked that up because I couldn’t be patient and time is running out. We’re graduating soon, I tried to talk things out and I still lost control of my emotions and somehow managed to fuck it up without the slightest bit of effort,” Jaemin snapped, running a hand through his hair and tugging on the roots out of frustration.

“I get it, I fucked up. I don’t need to be constantly reminded that I lost my soulmate and I’m going to be alone forever,” he raised his hands up in defeat, groaning. “The least I can do right now is to leave her alone to have some time to herself. Maybe if I do that she won’t hate me as much.”

Jaemin was really hopeless at this point. He didn’t know what to do. He knew he had to do something to try and make things better, but he fucked up too much this time. He believed that the relationship you two have now is unrepairable. He screwed up his chances of making it up to you once again, and now he’s just going to sulk around until he gets over it.

Jeno and Hyuck exchanged similar glances of sympathy, sighing heavily. “You can’t just give up like that, dude. You just gotta try a bit harder,” Younghoon slung an arm over the younger boy’s shoulders, giving him an encouraging smile. Jaemin pursed his lips, hanging his head with his doe eyes staring holes into his shoes before shaking his head ‘no’.

“I can’t. I really fucked up this one, you don’t even know,” Jaemin felt his heart ache at the memory of your exhausted expression that was now engraved into his skull. The way your eyes no longer held the adoration you had for him for so long. He internally wondered why he didn’t notice the sparkles in your eyes had faded whenever he came into your line of vision. Moreover, he regretted the fact that he didn’t cherish the moments when he could gaze into the adoration you held for him in your heart.

“I made her turn into the old me. God, I fucked up bad,” he groaned, rubbing his face with his hand in distress. Younghoon sucked in his lips, gazing up at the two boys, widening his eyes and nodding at the distressed boy beside him, gesturing for them to help him comfort him. Jeno clicked his tongue, crossing his arms against his chest as he shook his head in disappointment.

“Are you really going to give up just because of that?” Jeno deadpanned, furrowing his brows. “What do you want me to do man?” Jaemin peered up at his best friend, letting out a puff of breath. “I really don’t know what to do anymore, at this point I should just fucking give up. She won’t even give me a chance, anyway. What’s the point anymore?” Jaemin claimed, his eyes half-lidded.

He felt tired. He just wanted to go back home and sleep until his problems go away. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to do something to fix this, he wanted to do something to fix this. But he was at loss, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He was already on thin ice, if he fucked up one more time, he wouldn’t know what’s going to happen next. And frankly he didn’t want to think or risk it.

“No shit, sherlock.” Jeno scoffed, rolling his eyes incredulously.

“You repeatedly hurt her for two years straight, asshole. I wouldn’t forgive you if I were her either,” he added with a heavy sigh, shaking his head at the younger boy who just gave him a glare in return. “Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious. What else do you want me to do, huh? Climb the Eiffel tower?” Jaemin groaned, slumping against his seat.

“Then stop fucking sulking,” Jeno scolded. “You know very well sulking about your problems isn’t going to make anything better. You know that better than anyone, captain.”��

“Don’t use the ‘captain’ bullshit on me now, Jeno. I’m not in the mood,” Jaemin looked away from his friend, his eyes scanning the lockers in front of him. “Well, you better be in the mood sooner or later. The final game’s coming up, you better get your head straight before Coach actually gets serious and kicks you off the team.” Jeno scoffed, earning glares from Hyuck and Renjun.

That finally put Jaemin back into his rightful state of mind. He had been working for the position all throughout his sophomore and junior year, he knew he wasn’t in the best state to focus on anything right now but he couldn’t give up the position he had been working oh-so-very hard for the past two years. ‘God. What the fuck am I suppose to do?’

Younghoon sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s knee, patting it. “The two of you are literally hopeless. But I’m happy that Y/n rejected your dumb ass,” he commented with a tight-lipped smile. Jaemin turned to his friend slowly, who wiggled his eyebrows at him in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I’m being serious, by the way.” Younghoon added, retracting his hand.

“Gee, thank you for expressing your thoughts, Mr. Huang,” Hyuck chuckled, slinging an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Hey, hear me out first!” Younghoon exclaimed, pushing his arm off of his shoulders with a roll of his eyes. “Listen, I’m happy she rejected you because it would be pretty stupid for her to just forgive you all of a sudden despite the fact that you haven’t learned from your mistakes.” He explained.

Jaemin furrowed his brows in confusion at the boy’s words, “what’s that supposed to mean?” he retorted in an almost offended tone. “I don’t know if you realise this yet, Jaemin. But it seems that you truly haven’t learned from your stupid mistakes. She told you countless times she doesn’t want you to bother her and you did the exact opposite. You didn’t give her any time to slowly let you back into her life,” Jihoon shrugged simply, finally gathering the courage to speak up.

“So what you’re saying is that it’s okay for her to barge into my life doing all that soulmate crap for the past two years and I’m not allowed to do the same?” Jaemin asked, raising a brow at him as a scowl stretched across his lips. Jeno groaned in frustration, raising a hand to rub his temples to keep himself from snapping at the oblivious boy.

“See! He doesn’t even get it!” Jeno exclaimed, rubbing his forehead as he stared hopelessly at the boy sitting down in front of him. “Dude, you can’t just walk into someone’s life after hurting her twenty-four seven for two years straight, thinking that you would be forgiven in an instant. Hell, if we were Y/n we wouldn’t even want to look at you,” Jeno elaborated, taking a step back and crossing his arms against his chest.

“You can’t blame the poor girl for being cautious. You’re supposed to be her soulmate, the one who’s supposed to make her happy. You’re doing a shitty job at doing so, if I say so myself. If anything I’m proud of her for saying no to you so kindly, if I were her I would tell you to get out of my life permanently. You’re making her lose her trust in you even more as time goes on. Get that through your thick skull, you asshole.” Jeno spat, his eyes narrowing at the younger boy with rage glossing over his pupils.

Jaemin’s friends always considered you as their sister, they always cared about you and they always try to defend you and Jaemin whenever they can. But they knew this was getting a little bit too far. Your graduation ceremony was coming up soon. Prom was coming up. The final game is coming up. Not to mention the finals afterwards.

Everyone was more than beyond stressed in their own problems. And the fact that Jaemin was sulking about his problems instead of doing something about it was pissing them off to no end. The fact that the two of you were visibly hurting because of it was pissing them off. They wanted things to go back to the way they used to. But they knew things can’t end that way. Not anymore.

The least they can do now was to try and get Jaemin’s mind to think straight again.

“By the way you’re acting got me thinking, are you actually doing this because you’re starting to like y/n or is it because you just want to hurt her even more?” Jeno asked (almost growled), his tone lowering as he glared daggers into Jaemin’s figure.

“Jeno, wait, you’re-”

Jaemin shot up from his seat, standing up in front of his best friend with his eyes wide in shock. “What the fuck Jeno? You know very well I would never hurt y/n. At least on fucking purpose, you know that better than anyone. Why the hell are you even saying that?” Jaemin shot back, his eyes wide in shock at Jeno’s false assumption. Jeno’s gaze remained unwavering, taking a deep breath before continuing to speak again.

“Are you sure about that Jaemin? Because it seems to me all you’ve done so far is hurting y/n. And by what you said about Y/n not forgiving you made it sound like you’re purposely doing this because you wanted revenge against Y/n for ‘bothering’ you the past two years. Tell me, Jaemin. Are you doing this because you feel bad? Are you doing this because you actually like her? Or are you doing this because you want pay back?”

Every word that spilled out of Jeno’s mouth was like a slap from reality. Of course Jaemin likes you! Of course he feels bad! He just said those things because he was just furious with himself. Right? He was just frustrated that things haven’t been going very well lately with your relationship that he couldn’t help but make it sound like he was only doing this for revenge.

Right?

“Of course I fucking like her,” Jaemin shot back rather hesitantly, the anger in his eyes dissipating. Instead, sadness and confusion had taken place across his features. Truth be told, he was quite confused about his own feelings. He longed for your presence. He wanted to talk to you again. He wanted to give you soft cuddles again. He wanted to shower you with his love just like he always did back when the two of you were still kids.

But yet again, he has been hurting you alot. No, scratch that, he’s been hurting you with every selfish step he made. Does he really feel something for you or is this his way of getting you a taste of your own medicine? He can’t possibly-

“Get your shit together, Jaemin. If all you’re going to do is hurt her, you might as well just leave her life the same way she left yours months ago. And if you want things to be on good terms again, you might want to think a bit more,” Jeno spat, walking away to his locker, leaving the boy lost in his thoughts.

“Well, that was surely something unexpected.”

“I know!” you groaned, spreading your arms out on the table with a frustrated groan, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. “I don’t know what got into me. I was on the brink of crying that day. In a library too! Thank god it was empty, oh god.” you rambled, a look of pure horror spread across your features.

“Okay, okay. Calm down, just- repeat what you said to him just one more time,” Hyunjin coaxed, showing you his index finger. “I refuse to repeat myself, I rather bask in the cringe of my own previous words. Good day,” you gave Hyunjin a bittersweet smile before frowning abruptly and leaned your chin on your arm, jutting out your bottom as you recalled your conversation with Jaemin last week.

Speaking of Jaemin, he hasn’t made any efforts to talk to you again since then. He stopped sending you random chocolates in your lockers and small pebbles with small doodles drawn sloppily with a posca marker. He stopped trying to make small talk with you. And considering you were now avoiding him even more than you already are, you haven’t seen him much unless you pass by the school field to go to the teacher’s office to get something.

Were you a bit too harsh with your words? This is what you wanted right? You wanted him to leave your relationship as it is before anything bad happens to ruin it even more than it already has. But yet again, what was the point? Your relationship with Jaemin now is almost as non-existent. And you didn’t know what to feel about it.

You tugged the sleeve of your sweater down to take a peek of your hidden tattoo, a small frown on your lips as your eyes scan the small drawing that lead to all of this mess. Did you make the right choice when you rejected him? Was yelling at him a bit too far? He is your soulmate after all, maybe you should’ve given him a chance?

“Stop it,” Renjun chuckled, reaching from across the table to flick your forehead

You grimaced, looking up at your group of friends with a perplexed expression. “I’m literally just breathing right now,” you deadpanned, rubbing the spot he flicked with a small pout. “We can hear the gears inside your head, you’re thinking way too loud, y/n.” Yeeun commented with an amused smile, wrapping her arm around yours.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about Jaemin,” you sighed, giving her a half-hearted smile. “As usual,” your friend chuckled, rolling their eyes at you. You pursed your lips, “shut up. I kind of feel guilty for what happened back at the library now.” You pulled your arm away from Yeeun’s hold with a small pout on your face.

“Why the hell would you feel guilty? You should feel proud of yourself,” Renjun furrowed his brows, opening the milk carton he bought earlier before school had started. “I don’t know, I just feel guilty? I never really snapped at Jaemin like that before. Or anyone else,” you shrugged, picking off the chocolate from Hyunjin’s dessert box with the spoon beside you.

“Hey! Get your own!” Hyunjin exclaimed, slapping your spoon away from his box with his own. “Stealing from a friend tastes way better, sorry not sorry,” you grinned, shoving the spoon inside your mouth with a small hum. “We’re kinda proud of you for standing up for yourself like that though,” Renjun mumbled under his breath.

You felt your heart ache slightly at the thought. “I mean,” you pulled the spoon out of your mouth and clicked your tongue in thought. “I’m not one to back out of confrontation, so I’m kind of proud of myself for saying no as well. But I just really feel guilty for doing so, is it because he’s my soulmate?” you frowned, leaning close to take another bite of Hyunjin’s dessert.

“It’s normal to feel bad. It shows that despite everything he’s done, you still like him. Whether it’d be because of the soulmate system or because of your own feelings, you still like him. It’s normal to be angry at someone and feel like shit about it afterwards. We’re here for you,” Yeeun leaned her head against your shoulder and rubbed your back affectionately.

You looked up, watching as your friends gave you encouraging smiles, showing you that they’re here to back you up no matter what. “We won’t be mad either even if you did say yes. Because, let’s be real. If my soulmate finally realised they’re being a piece of shit, I would snap at them and forgive them when I’m ready,” Renjun chuckled, continuing on munching down his salad. “We’ll always be here to back you up, even if it doesn’t seem like it,” Hyunjin nodded in agreement.

“Thanks guys, I really appreciate it,” you sighed, mustering up the strength to give them a genuine smile. But alas, the empty feeling in your chest didn’t disappear. Not even a bit. But it made you feel a bit at ease knowing you have someone to turn to whenever you need it.

You missed him. It wasn’t a secret among you and your friends. You missed Jaemin even if you didn’t want to. You missed the happiness bubbling up inside of you whenever he comes into your line of vision, you missed the butterflies swarming in your stomach whenever you hear his voice. You missed how he would complain about how his tummy hurts when he accidentally drank milk at the most random of moments.

You missed how despite how he found your affections and small antics extremely bothersome, he never failed to do the littlest things to show that he still cared about you. You couldn’t even count how many times you would fall asleep to the scent of his hoodie whenever he accidentally left it in your room. You couldn’t count how many times you wrote small love letters at the back of your notebook whenever he pops up in your head.

You couldn’t count how many times you would crack a small smile whenever you caught a small glimpse of his.

It hurts to think that you lost your chance of ever feeling the same happiness you did before. At least, not in real life considering you’ve been having too many dreams of Jaemin. You’d wake up all happy and hyper then in a minute your mood will spiral down like a toilet bowl when reality hits you smack on the face. Though, you knew very well that you should just move on considering college was just around the corner.

You didn’t want to think about this anymore.

“Hey y/n, you got a minute?”

Your head shot up from your phone, eyes wide in surprise to see none other than Lee Jeno himself. “Jeno?” you leaned your head to the side a bit, wondering why he was standing right in front of you when he was supposed to be in practice right now with Jaemin and the others. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?” you asked, pulling the strap of your bag that was slipping off your shoulder.

“Coach cancelled today to cool us all off before the game next week,” Jeno shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a small shrug. “Right, the game! Good luck with that, by the way,” you beamed, eyes wide in realization when you realized that the last game for the guys was next week before exams starts. “You’re not coming?” he asked, leaning his head to the side in confusion.

You wanted to. You really really do. You always had a front row seat so you can see Jaemin play at a close view. You remembered how you always cheered enthusiastically for him, Jeno and Hyuck back then, handing them cool water bottles afterwards. Putting up a bright smile as you watched Jaemin stare back at you with annoyance, his eyes showing how much he didn’t want you there. You remembered pretending to be oblivious to the sympathetic looks Jeno and Hyuck would always share whenever you attempted to make small talk with him.

“Oh nope, I’m not. I’ll probably be napping or studying since finals are only a month away,” you lied, shaking your head with a small soft smile. You, knowing yourself, you’re probably going to watch one of your friend’s lives during the game and cheer in your room so you don’t have to see Jaemin in real life after the argument that went down last weekend.

“You know you don’t need to lie right? I can’t count how many times you complain about how you studied a day before your exams,” Jeno chuckled, rolling his eyes as he nudged your shoulder with his teasingly. “Shut up, I spend most of my time doing last minute homework. I need breaks too sometimes, you know,” you scoffed, pushing on his arm with a dramatic huff.

“Look at the bright side, no matter how little you study, you magically ace it without effort,” Jeno joked as you walked towards the vending machine in front of your school lobby. “There’s this thing called praying. Or satanic rituals a day before the exams,” you snickered, pulling your wallet out as you examined the food displayed through the transparent glass.

“You want anything? I’ll pay,” you asked, turning to your taller friend with a soft smile, who shook his head ‘no’ at you. You shrugged as if to say ‘your loss’ before taking out a small bill and pushing it through the tiny slot. “So, what did you want to talk about, Lee Jeno?” you asked with a rather teasing tone. “You never talk to me in private unless there’s something you want,” you commented with a small snicker, pressing on the small button on the side of the machine.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me talking about this. It’s about Jaemin?” Jeno asked in a rather hesitant tone, sucking in his bottom lip nervously.

You both heard the can drop into the opening slot at the bottom of the machine with a loud ‘clank!’ When he finished your sentence, you swore it sounded way too similar to how your heart dropped into your stomach at the mention of the brown boy. “Oh,” you replied almost inaudibly, kneeling down to grab your drink out of the slot.

‘Say no. Are you seriously going to talk about the guy you just rejected after 2 years of pining for him to his best friend?’

You gulped silently, grabbing your drink as you took a deep breath to compose yourself. You stood up and gave him a weak smile, “what about him?” you asked, wincing internally at how weak your voice became at the thought of talking about the boy you were so whipped about. “You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jeno must’ve noticed how uncomfortable you felt when he brought him up as he cleared his throat.

“No, no. It’s fine, I’m okay. I’m okay with talking about him. It’s just Jaemin,” you shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as you possibly could. “You sure?”Jeno asked, furrowing his brows as he stuck his hands in his pockets nervously. “It’s really okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Jeno gave you a kind smile, one that almost made you take back what you said, however your pride got the best of you.

“It’s fine, really,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile as you internally yelled at yourself for not being honest to your dear friend.

“I don’t want to invade on your personal issues with Jaemin or anything, but-” Jeno paused, furrowing his brows as he attempted to think of a nicer way to express his statement. “It’s pretty obvious that the two of you are in a rough patch and I don’t know if you noticed but Jaemin is pretty stressed out about this,” he grimaced as he realised that his words were leading to literally nowhere.

“I’m sure you’re pretty stressed out as well, it’s pretty evident considering the tension between the two of you is way more than obvious and-”

“Jeno, where are you going with this?” your tone turned emotionless as you let out a heavy sigh, looking down at your shoes before looking up at your friend with eyes void of emotion, rubbing them with the palm of your hand. “I’m sure whatever you want to say is important but if you can’t tell I just want to go home and sleep until I have to get up,” you explained with a small smile.

Jeno’s eyes widened a bit, surprised at how your bright demeanor vanished in a few minutes without leaving a single trace. ‘So Mrs. Dong was right about soulmates unrequited love being emotionally and mentally draining, then.’ Jeno thought to himself as he sucked his lips in to think of a way to express his thoughts without causing you to run off.

‘Fuck it.’

“I know you probably don’t trust him anymore or you’re probably afraid of getting hurt after everything he’s done. But if- As if to say that Jaemin were to try woo-ing you over one more time, without fucking up that is, would you give him another chance?” he asked, his tone turning serious as his eyes hardened and stared into yours as if to spot any trace of you lying.

‘Oh, so this is what this is about.’ you thought.

“Did Jaemin put you up to this?” you asked, rubbing your palm against your temple as you felt the emptiness in your chest being replaced by non-other than the dull ache that is heartache. “Did he not get the message to leave our relationship, whatever’s left of it anyway, alone before it gets worse?” you sighed, chuckling slightly at the thought of Jaemin’s stubborn ass asking Jeno for a favor. Grimacing at how mean you sounded.

“No- no! Not at all, I asked you on my own accords. Jaemin has nothing to do with me asking you this-hell! He doesn’t even know that I’m here talking to you right now, trust me,” Jeno exclaimed, raising his hand up and using the other to cross his heart, symbolizing that he promised you that he was telling you the truth. You smiled a bit at this.

“Why are you the one asking? Not to be rude, Jeno, but this doesn’t concern you,” you raised your brow, taking a step back as you twisted your drink open with curiosity. “I know, it’s none of my concern but honestly watching the two of you go on trying to solve this by yourselves is like watching the Twilight series except there’s no weird fantasy creatures and a werewolf falling in love with an infant child,” Jeno blurted out, scratching the back of his head, chuckling at his own little joke.

“Oh,” you replied, letting out a small chuckle at his joke before your smile faltered. “Well what do you suggest I do? So far I’ve only been receiving advice from people that have heard only my side of the story. Considering you’ve heard Jaemin’s side of the story, what do you actually suggest I do?” you asked, stuffing your thumb in your pocket as you sipped your drink, lowering your gaze to your shoes nervously.

“I suggest you follow my advice earlier. If Jaemin ever decides to try again and not fuck it up, I would advise you to consider giving him a chance,” Jeno shrugged. “I’m not saying that all the things he did were okay. Hell no, if I were you I would totally kick his ass for taking your kindness and affection for granted, I assure you. But Jaemin has been... trying really hard,” Jeno explained, sadness flashing against his eyes.

“Trying hard?” you asked in a whispered tone, looking up at your friend with slight confusion. “Yeah!” he replied with a small bright smile. “You may not know this but Jaemin spends his time now wondering about what small cheesy things he could do to make you smile. Ever since you ghosted him, he’s been thinking about you alot. It was almost annoying.” he giggled, remembering the countless times Jaemin’s face would flush red whenever he realised he was thinking about you back when he was still in denial.

“You may not notice it considering he always does this whenever you aren’t around. Despite the fact that Jaemin was always an asshole to you, he’s always think of you twenty four seven. It’s always ‘y/n would’ve liked this’, ‘this is something y/n would hate’, ‘y/n would’ve done this’, y/n this and y/n that. The idiot was whipped as hell but his stubborn ass didn’t realise how much he actually cares for you until now.”

“Remember how you would leave him small letters in his locker or give it to him straight up before running off because you forgot to do your homework and you needed to do it before the bell rings? I swear, he always had this lovesick smile on his face when he watched you sprinting down the hall yelling at people to get out of the way,” Jeno chuckled, recalling the moments when he and Hyuck would spot Jaemin smiling to himself in front of his locker as he read the letters you send him every time you passed his locker.

“That’s not- I don’t believe that,” you shook your head, not believing your ears. This couldn’t be the Jaemin you knew. You remembered vividly of how his eyes held no love whatsoever whenever you came into his line of vision, the way the happiness evaporated from his pupils the moment he turned his head at your figure. The angry glares he would give you whenever you do something small yet cheesy.

“Don’t you remember? When I gave one of my letters to him in person, he threw it away without a second thought. You saw it with your own eyes, Jeno. You can’t lie like that to me, that hurts, dude,” you frowned, clenching your fists as you recalled how he gave you the sweetest smile he could muster when you gave your small letter to him at one moment. And the next moment, you saw him crumpling it up in his hands and throwing it to the nearest trash can at the corner of your eyes.

“Well, that was kind of our fault,” Jeno frowned, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “We swear, we didn’t know he would act like that in front of you. I swear he would have those wide smiles whenever he read your letters and occasionally Hyuck and I would tease the hell out of him. Usually he would just shove the letters back in his locker or something, we didn’t expect him to throw it out in front of you,” Jeno looked down, his expression filled with guilt as he gripped the saddle of his bag.

“If we hadn’t teased him like that in front of you, maybe he wouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled under his breath. You stared at him in disbelief, it was like you were hearing about a completely different version of Jaemin. Yet you couldn’t be sure if Jeno was telling the truth. Jeno wasn’t one to tell lies, he was always the mature one in complicated situations. But you knew sometimes he would lie for the best.

“I’m sorry, I find it very hard to believe you right now,” you bit your lip nervously, a dull ache appearing in your heart as you realised how sad you sounded. ‘Why is it so hard to believe that Jaemin would do something that nice? Why can’t I believe it? Jeno can’t be lying, right?’ you thought to yourself, feeling your heart sink at the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to the fact that Jaemin could actually harbor feelings for you deep down even though he doesn’t realise it.

“Hyuck took this picture a couple of months ago, that was before you stopped giving him letters, I think,” Jeno clicked his tongue, pulling out his phone and unlocking it before opening his chats with Donghyuck, scrolling up until he found the picture he sent before handing his phone to you. You furrowed your brows, holding his phone in your hand as you read their messages closely.

It was indeed two months ago. Donghyuck had sent Jeno a picture of Jaemin’s locker. You zoomed in on the picture, spotting a stack of letters made from the pages of your notebook with dates on them at the corner of his messy locker. You could see a few were slightly crumpled as if the textbooks had something to do with it, but you could recognize that posca yellow marker anywhere.

Your eyes widened slightly as you felt your heartbeat pick up its pace inside of your chest. “That’s pretty nice of him,” you mumbled, you didn’t have the strength to keep up your emotionless facade as you couldn’t help but crack up a small smile. Handing Jeno back his phone, you gave him a tight-lipped smile, leaning your head to the side in curiosity. “Why are you trying so hard to convince me to give him a chance, exactly?” you asked, letting out a small puff of breath.

Jeno shrugged, giving you the same tight lipped smile as he shoved his phone in his pockets. “As I said before, I’m tired of watching this whole story slowly leading to an end where the two of you end up being miserable simps for the rest of your lives,” he joked, scratching the back of his head as he gave you one of his iconic eye smiles. You let out a small sad chuckle, looking down at your shoes in thought for a small moment before looking back up at your friend.

“I’ll think about it. How about that?” you nodded sadly, you weren’t lying. You really did need time to think about all this. “Of course, I guess I’ll see you later?” Jeno nodded, sucking in his bottom lip as you waved him goodbye. “I’ll see you around, yeah,” you gave him a polite smile before walking away from the taller boy to the bus stop. Completely oblivious to the fact that Jeno had kept his fingers crossed behind his back while biting his lip, wishing desperately for Jaemin to not screw things up this time.

‘Well that’s definitely uncalled for,’ you thought as you fished your phone out of your bag to check the time. You didn’t know what to feel, you didn’t know what to think of this situation. You were confused to say the least. If the y/n from two years ago was listening to this conversation right now, you know for a fact that she’d either be over the moon or she wouldn’t believe her own ears. But at this moment, you didn’t know what to think of this.

Maybe, just maybe, if Jeno had told you this ages ago, maybe you would’ve still kept on going. Though, if he had told you this ages ago, would you still be willing to keep up your bright demeanor just so that Jaemin can step on you a lot longer? If you still kept going back then, if you just pretended that the fight between you and Jaemin didn’t happen like you always do, would things turn out differently? Would Jaemin agree to give you a chance?

You didn’t know. Frankly you don’t want to. It’s best that some things are just left the way they are.

“Honey, Jaemin’s outside of the door. He said he wants to talk to you,” your mom called you out from the front door. Your jaw dropped as you quickly placed the spoon back into your plate of your mom’s famous pasta, abruptly getting up from the couch and placing your plate on the coffee table before dusting any weird crumbs off of your clothes.

Clearing your throat, you yelled out a quick ‘be right there!’ as you made sure to tidy yourself up to ensure that you look presentable enough to look humane and not like a body that just got pulled out of the river. Your heartbeat increased with every step you take towards the front door, your clammy hands tightened into balls of fists as your anxiety crept up inside of you.

‘Jaemin? Why is he here? He hasn’t spoken to you ever since the fight you two had at the library. More importantly, does his parents know about said argument? The Na’s aren’t ones who would shove their noses up into other people’s business but oh dear god, what if Jaemin told his parents and his parents told yours?

Safe to say you had a really terrible feeling about this.

Feeling your heart ache at the memory of your argument, you felt your heart growing empty and cold. Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you took a deep breath before poking your head into the room where your mom was smiling up at a seemingly exhausted Na Jaemin. You grimaced at his appearance, feeling your heart ache even more by how much of a mess he looked right at that moment.

His hair was messy and disheveled, as if he had been tossing and turning in his for hours. There were heavy dark bags under his eyes, signifying his recent lack of sleep. He was in his casual attire: his iconic black nike’s sweatpants and a plain baggy white shirt and some random slippers that were probably a hand-me-down from his dad.

Nonetheless, he looked really cozy. His appearance never failed to make your heart flutter in your chest, the small smile on his lips doing things to your stomach. You couldn’t help but dart your eyes down to the small (assumingly recycled) paper bag from Starbucks in his hand, furrowing your brows at this you attempted to walk towards them as casually as you can.

“Mom?” you gulped, walking up towards her as you gripped your fists tightly behind you to hide your nerves. “Y/n, sweetie, look! Jaemin came to pay you a visit,” your mom exclaimed, smiling widely. It’s obvious that she’s using this opportunity to make the two of you finally talk face to face, clearly as she didn’t know anything that had happened after the dinner party your families had a couple months ago.

Jaemin gave you an awkward smile, raising his free hand to give you a small wave, in which you returned with a small awkward wave of your own. “I’ll leave the two of you to catch up,” your mother nudged your arm and gave Jaemin a kind smile before walking back to the kitchen to give you two some privacy. Sucking in your bottom lip nervously, you watched your mom walk around the corner before looking back at the boy standing before you.

“Hey,” he greeted in an attempt to make small talk.

“Hi,” you responded breathily, putting your hands behind your back so he wouldn’t see you clenching your fists nervously.

“I-Can we talk? Outside?” Jaemin spoke softly, biting his bottom lip nervously, nodding towards your front porch. Oh how those three words brought you so many unpleasant memories. Is this the same anxiety people in relationships feel? The two of you aren’t even together and you’ve gotten into so many fights in the past two years, it’s almost ironic.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Jaemin had already beat you to it. “I know you probably don’t want to, but I swear it won’t take much more than at least two minutes. But if you don’t want to it’s-” Jaemin spluttered out, stumbling over his own words as he looked down at his shoes to calm himself down. “Okay,” you agreed in a soft tone, nodding slightly at the older boy.

“Are you sure?” Jaemin asked, looking up at you in slight surprise, relief evidently surging through his veins as you gave him a reassuring nod. He really did thought that you’d say no to him after your fight last weekend. “Yeah, it’s fine. Let’s talk outside,” you nodded, opening the front door, gesturing for him to walk out first.

Kissing his teeth, Jaemin walked out of the door, watching you follow him and close the door behind you quietly before leaning your back against it. “I see you got a car?” Jaemin asked all of a sudden. Your gaze shot up from your feet to the brown headed boy in surprise, letting out a small ‘huh?’ in response, only to see that Jaemin was looking at your new white car. “Oh, yeah. I got my driver’s license recently and my aunt gifted me one to celebrate,” you nodded.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jaemin nodded, sucking his lips in nervously. There was a pregnant pause between the two of you as your thoughts jumbled up to think about what to say next.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes went wide at him, your breathing hitched as Jaemin looked down with eyes filled with guilt and sorrow. “What?” you blurted out, confused at his sudden apology. “Look, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now and I know you told me you don’t want to see me anymore. But I can’t help it but try at least one more time. I promise I won’t waste your time anymore than I already have,” Jaemin ran a hand through his hair in distress, taking a deep breath before looking back up at you with eyes filled with regret and guilt, taking you aback by his sudden bold statement.

“I’m sorry. About everything. The fight at the library, the dinner party with our parents, the music box, the gifts, everything I’ve ever done to hurt you. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by someone like me. You didn’t deserve to go through the mean bullshit I put you through the past two years, and you don’t have to forgive me for it. Because frankly, if I were you I won’t even bother forgiving myself either,” Jaemin started, letting all of his words pour out of his mouth from the heart.

“I’m sorry for constantly embarrassing you in front of our friends and families whenever you show the slightest bit of affection towards me. I’m so sorry for throwing your gifts away right in front of you whenever our friends tease us a bit too much, that was a dick move of me and you didn’t deserve to have your efforts thrown into literal waste,” he grimace at the mention of throwing your heartfelt letters in the trash right in front of your eyes in front of his friends almost a year ago.

He tightened his grip on the strings of the paper bag, biting this lip nervously before continuing with his apology. “I swear I’m not making up any excuses for myself. I really do feel terrible for everything I did, I didn’t realize that I was hurting your feelings this bad for two whole years. You just wanted your soulmate to like you back, I should’ve at least tried to try,” he felt his heart getting even more heavier with every second that passed.

“You really don’t have to forgive me and here’s something to make up for all the gifts I broke or threw away,” Jaemin outstretched his arm to hand you the paper bag, looking straight into your eyes with a small sad smile as you wordlessly grab the bag from him. “I-I don’t want to pressure you or anything but I would really like it if you come to the game next week, your usual spot feels empty without you there,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I promise I’ll leave you alone for real if you really want me to. I know I probably don’t deserve it, but if you’re willing to give me a second chance, I would take it in a heartbeat and I would be willing to make everything up to you. You don’t have to go and you don’t have to decide right now. I just came to give you that- God, why am I so awkward,” he buried his red face in his hands for a brief moment before looking up at you with a flustered expression.

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at his embarrassed state. ‘So this is what it feels like when you’re not the one embarrassing your ass off to give a gift to your crush, huh?’ you thought to yourself with a small smile. ‘How ironic,’ you sucked in your lips slightly before looking back at Jaemin with a genuine expression. “I’ll see you later,” Jaemin waved, turning quickly as to not fuck things up anymore than he already has.

You gave him a small wave, turning around and entering your house to walk back to your couch and finish your pasta, placing the paper bag on the coffee table as you took a large bite of your pasta and pulled the tape that sealed the bag shut. As you were thinking everything over as you mindlessly chewed on your food, you pulled the bag and leaned it over towards you to examine its contents.

Inside were a couple bars of your favorite chocolate bar, a note folded in half, a big packet of honey flavored chips, a small gift wrapped in notebook paper tied with a red string and a small decorative box with Jaemin’s name attached to it. You bit your lip, pulling out the note first and unfolding it as you pulled out the small wrapped gift, reading it as you unpackaged whatever Jaemin had gifted you.

‘Hey Y/n. I don’t know if you’re going to be reading this or not. But if you do, I just want to say hi just in case you didn’t want to talk face to face I would at least ask your mom to give you this so the letter could convey my apologies way better than I actually would in real life.’

You pulled the red string off slowly, placing it carefully on the table as you slowly peeled the paper away to reveal a small familiar porcelain figure that was no bigger than the size of your palm. Your eyebrows raised in surprise at this, this porcelain figure was the same figure that came along with the music box your grandmother gave you before she passed away. You turned it around to inspect it even more, spotting the same crack on the edge to conclude that it was indeed the porcelain from your old music box.

‘I know you might be wondering how the small doll was still intact considering I broke the whole music box to the point it was unrepairable, but trust me, I was hella surprised to see that this little thing was still intact. Maybe my carpet floor had softened the impact? I don’t know it was still very pretty and I wanted to give you back something that was previously yours. I know, you gave it to me but I really want you to have a piece of your grandma left with you, so don’t fight with me on this one, y/n >:(’

You couldn’t help but grin at the small smiley face he drew on the edge of the paragraph, letting out a small giggle as you placed the porcelain doll gently on the table beside your plate, taking a spoonful of your food before digging your hand back in the paper bag to fish out the decorated box. It was quite heavy considering you had to use two hands to pull it out.

With a small huff, you place the box on the couch beside you. Crossing your legs over the other and placing the letter on your lap, you pulled the lid off of the box and placed it beside the paper bag before looking back inside the box, shock coursing through your veins. You felt your heart warm up at the contents of the box, feeling your stomach do somersaults in your body as you slowly picked up the contents one by one.

The box was filled with nothing but your childhood polaroids the two of you took throughout your whole youth, some aesthetic pictures Jaemin took of you without your knowledge or consent during your freshman and sophomore year of middle school and high school (hell you didn’t even know he still took pictures of you). There were a few polaroids decorated with small doodles and hearts with sharpie markers. You spotted a few old post-it notes you had used to give Jaemin cheesy pick up lines, but this time they had small responses.

‘Hey Jaemin, are you a camera? Because every time I look at you I smile. :D’

‘Hey Y/n. You better check the mirror, you’re the reason why I’m smiling right now :D’

‘If I had a genie that could grant me three wish, I would use them all just so you can be with me’

‘Well I’m here now, what are you going to do with the other two wishes?’

‘Your hand looks heavy, let me hold it for you, Jaemin :D’

‘My heart feels heavy, can you hold it for me?’

Your grin grew inevitably wider with every pick up line he wrote, heart fluttering as your stomach swarmed with butterflies. Rubbing your face to keep yourself from combusting as you dug your hand through the box to see the old letters Jeno had been talking about. You opened one of the dirty letters which was covered in small stickers and doodles. (which you assume was Jaemin’s doing, considering he has a clear eye for aesthetics)

‘I knew you liked really cheesy romance stuff and considering I watch a lot of k-dramas and shows in my free time, you know very much I’m going to put my romantic expertise into good use. It felt nice being the one giving gifts, no wonder you like giving me stuff so much, this is actually fun. I hope this isn’t too much for you. I know this probably isn’t going to make up for all the damage I’ve done in the past two years but at least I tried my best.’

You liked to write the dates on your letters just in case things like this happen and you would have the opportunity to look back and cringe at your own cheesiness and mediocre writing. You honestly couldn’t believe your eyes or Jeno when he said Jaemin had kept your letters in his messy void of a locker. But now that you had a living proof that he actually cherished your letters. You couldn’t help but feel some sort of comforting hope in your chest.

Your heart no longer felt empty or void of emotions, it felt full again. Though, not completely filled, it was better than feeling complete nothingness. You were still very much scared of trusting Jaemin with your own heart again, you were still very much scared of getting hurt again. But there was something inside you that was begging you to trust Jaemin again and let him back in your life. It has been telling you to do so ever since you saw how genuine he was being.

‘I probably didn’t tell you this when we were talking but believe it or not, I actually really really like you. And I really want to try where this all can lead to, and if you’re willing to trust me again I would try my best not to fuck it up this time. I don’t expect you to say yes or anything to me. If you decide not to come to the game, I totally understand and I’ll leave you alone just like you asked. I missed hanging out with you, Y/n. I missed my best friend. I miss having my soulmate around, and I’m sorry that it took me this long to realise how important you truly are to me’

He really isn’t giving up is he? Well, if he hasn’t given you up like you did with him. Are you willing to repeat his previous actions and stop listening to your head and start listening to your heart again? Are you willing to give him up again?

I’m sure you know the answer to that already.

I feel like the end is quite rushed. i’m so sorry if so. I’ve been working on this for two weeks lmfao and it’s currently two am right now so Imma go to bed hehe. This series has like... what three chapters left? DAMN ITS BEEN A WHOLE YEAR SINCE I MADE THIS SERIES. DW I HAVE A HYUCK SERIES COMING UP SOONER OR LATER LMFAO.

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glimmerglanger · 3 years

Note

For a possible Make Your Bed snippet - reunion with Rex and/or Ahsoka, perhaps??? I also find myself super curious about how things ended up between Mav and Mirrti. Anyway, gorgeous finale, I was having heart palpitations throughout the last two chapters and I thank you dearly for them. ♥

remyblue said:

If you're still taking prompts for Make Your Bed, background Mav/Mirrti? Finding Rex and Ashoka? Also your writing is lovely and every update of Make Your Bed was a highlight/a wonderful gift these past weeks so thank you! >_<

Gooood morning! Since I’ve done Rex and Ahsoka, this one focuses on Mav and Mirrti. Set during Chapter Five. Angst and a lot of feelings. Discussion of mind control.

~~~~~~~

It had only been a handful of days since Mav stepped through the door to Mirrti’s quarters.

It felt like a lot longer.

He looked over the space while Mirrti made her way in, moving over to the small bench that served as a couch and just sinking down. The quarters were tiny, but they were private. He had...a lot of pleasant memories about the bunk along one wall; all the blankets were in order. Usually most of them were on the floor.

Last time he’d been in this room, Mirrti had helped him put his armor on, because they’d indulged, and he was running behind to get down to Utapau. She’d kissed his forehead before he pulled his bucket on.

He reached up, rubbing at his brow, chest and gut tight, and she said, “I’m sorry.”

Mav winced, looking over towards her. She’d bent over her legs, pale hair loose and falling down around her face. Parts of it were stained dark with blood. Not hers. He’d checked. She was still wearing a jumpsuit from the brig. And, when he’d first come around the corner, after she’d commed him, he’d thought--

“I know you must be furious,” she said, voice muffled by her hands, over her face.

Mav considered that. His emotions were all a tangled mess. They felt sharp-edged, in a way he wasn’t used to. Like they’d been sharpened into blades and turned against both him and everyone around him.

He said, “I think I am angry, yes.” He watched her nod, watched her shoulders shake, something simmering up his spine, thinking about the feeling of being trapped in his own head, screaming where no one could hear. Thinking about the nat-borns. Jocobi and Tullop had gloated, and - and gone further, but--

He flexed his fingers in and out, looking down at his own hands, surprised by the itch in his knuckles and the hot boil of emotion in his gut. His voice was sharp when he said, “You just left -- us.”

He heard her make a sound. Her voice cracked when she said, “I didn’t know--what was going on. Admi--Jocobi got a message. Over Utapau. It said - it said the Jedi had attempted a coup. That they were traitors. And that you - you all had received new orders. That you’d--listen better. Follow your orders. I… and then you were. Blank. Empty.”

He stared at the far wall, his jaw aching. He was grinding his teeth together. He tried to make himself stop, with limited success. She said, quietly, “You wouldn’t talk to me.”

Mav swore, and it was easy enough to slam the side of his hand into the closet wall. The wash of pain down his arm felt… grounding. Mirrti made a ragged, startled sound, and-- He’d wanted to talk to her. To beg her for help, at first.

And then to beg her to stop.

The thing in his head hadn’t appreciated her continued attempts to speak with him. It had taken him back to his bunk multiple times and grabbed a pad, opening a form to report behavior that indicated sedition and--

Mav had fought it, as best he could. He’d tried to focus on the fact that she was a junior officer - she had no real power, he’d tried to convince the thing in his head. And - and he’d focused on his memories of their time together. The way they tangled close.

It wasn’t sedition. Just - just a lonely officer, who wanted physical release from his body.

The thing in his head must have believed it. It hadn’t filed any of the reports, anyway.

“I couldn’t talk to you,” he said, finally, his voice in shreds.

She looked up, her hair stuck to her cheeks. “You could have, I would have helped, don’t you know that I--”

“I couldn’t, Mirrti. Physically. There was.” He blew out a breath, gut sour and burning. Cody hadn’t given him orders not to talk about the thing in their heads. But, likely, that was because Cody was barely managing to keep things running. He looked terrible and was furious with the nat-borns. All of them.

Mav had never seen Cody really angry, before. It made him uncomfortable. The way he’d looked at Mirrti, like he wanted to shake her or - or worse, had made something burn in Mav’s throat. He shook those thoughts aside and swallowed. He said, “There was something in my head. In all of our heads.”

Mirrti turned to look at him, finally. Her face was streaked wet, darkened to purple under her eyes. “What?”

Mav grimaced, waving a hand out to the side. It ached, where he’d slammed it into the wall. “Some kind of kriffing chip. I don’t know. The Kaminoans put it there and when they turned it on…” He snorted, an ugly sound. “We got blank. Empty. I couldn’t do anything except watch what was happening. And you - you just stood there. You watched Tullop--”

He trailed off, throat closing around the words, strangling them. Strangling him. Jocobi had been smug and awful, but mostly kept to his own quarters. Tullop had taken inordinate joy from wandering among them, in ordering them to do degrading little tasks, just because he could, and--

“So, yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m angry, Mirrti.”

It felt good, naming the emotion. She nodded, head dropping, shackles still around her wrists because Cody had been lenient enough to let her come back here, but there’d been limits to how far he was willing to stretch any magnanimity.

She hadn’t asked to have them removed, anyway.

Mav swallowed, his own eyes burning. He was angry, and didn’t know, really, how to process the swell of it. There was so much. And it hadn’t crept into his chest alone. He panted out, voice cracking all at once, “And scared. I was so - the chip wanted to report you, Mirrti. As a traitor, and you wouldn’t stop coming around. And…”

She looked up at him again, expression frozen into place, fresh tears on her cheeks. And he’d thought Cody was going to throttle her, earlier, after the breakout. After she commed him, told him in stuttering breathes that the other nat-borns had gotten away, and--

She could have run with them. They’d have been able to reach a comm station. The Empire would know. Know what they were doing on the Vigilance. Even if they’d caught the nat-borns after that, it wouldn’t have mattered. A single message could undo all of them.

His heart had lurched when she commed him, going so fast it had hurt. It was still racing. He was angry and he’d been worried and currently he did not know what he was feeling, only that there was too much of it, all crowding together inside his head, tangled with memories of - of being in this room, of Mirrti leaning her arm on his chest, her skin so blue as he trailed fingers through her hair and they discussed taking leave together, her body soft and warm against his, the way she laughed when he got tired of talking--

He blew out a breath, running a hand back over his head, wondering what the kriff they were supposed to do next.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #make your bed lie in it #mav and mirrti #feelings and trauma about mind control

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 10.5

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.3k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act one ➻ part 10.5

“Watch your step,” Seonghwa says as you follow him through tall double doors. Despite his warning, you still manage to catch your foot on the edge of the threshold. You don’t fall to the ground – a miracle honestly – but the embarrassment still causes heat to rise in your cheeks. Seonghwa doesn’t make matters any better by turning to smirk at your clumsy actions out the corner of his eye. “I said watch your step.”

“And I said no,” you bite back through the embarrassment. Seonghwa laughs through his nose, waiting for you to pass him before tapping away at the keypad beside the door. It slides shut, and you glare down at the offending piece of threshold that caused you to stumble.

“Are you gonna shoot it for offending you, princess?”

“Might shoot you for the hell of it, pretty boy.” You shift your glare to the tall Lieutenant, who maintains the cheeky grin on his lips even as you bore daggers into his head with your eyes. “Where are we anyway?”

“This is our training room. Shooting range, punching bags, sparring court.” Seonghwa motions around the room, pointing to each thing as he mentions them, and you follow the line of his fingers.

“And we’re here because…?”

“You’re so impatient, princess. At least let a man finish before you interrupt.”

“Your mouth wasn’t even open,” you retort through a scoff.

“I was thinking about what to say.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Well be quiet so I can explain.”

You purse your lips, tongue darting out to run over the front of your teeth. Seonghwa seems pleased by your silence though, and a satisfied smile covers his lips before he continues to speak.

“We’re here to spar.”

“Oh, is that your definition of a good time?”

“If we were going by my definition of a good time, we’d be in my room.”

“I-I – we-well. Right. Yea. R-Right.” His less than wholesome remark comes out of left field, and you certainly weren’t expecting it in the slightest. You can’t stop yourself from getting flustered. Seonghwa chuckles again, letting his tongue toy at the corner of his lips before he speaks again.

“Sparring, because you need to work on your strength if you wanna use that pretty little trigger arm again. Yunho said physical therapy. Have you been doing it?”

“I’ve been doing stretches and stuff…” You trail off. You avoid Seonghwa’s gaze, but it betrays the fact that you have not actually been doing much to strengthen your arm. For which you blame no one but yourself, because, in all honesty, you would have gone to Yunho sooner if not for the lingering awkwardness of your slight argument not too long ago. Which no one knows about as far as you know, but you certainly aren’t planning on making it table talk.

“Right, mhm, stretches – or lack thereof – aren’t going to cut it.” Seonghwa moves away from you and prompts you to follow him, which you do albeit with no shortage of hesitance. He guides you over to one of the walls, opening a small cabinet to pull out a small roll of white gauze. “Wrap your palms and wrists. We’ll start on the punching bags before I kick your ass.”

“Kick my ass? Those are fighting words, Lieutenant.”

“I guess you’ll just have to prove me wrong then, no?” He tosses the roll of gauze over to you, one brow raised high. You catch it with ease but keep your glare on the man as you wrap the material around your palms and wrists. “have you ever done anything like this?”

“Of course I have. You think they just teach us to shoot in the military?”

“You never know. I was looking forward to teaching you a thing or two though. Damn, maybe we can do that if we ever get to try out my definition of a good time. I’m sure I can teach you a lot of things there.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to beat the shit out of you.” You yank the material tight around your wrist, securing it in place before chucking the spool of wrap back at Seonghwa. He catches it with one hand then motions towards where the punching bags hang off to the side with the same hand.

“Quit talking big and go over there.”

You sigh but do as told, and Seonghwa follows behind you. You can hear the tear of the gauze; he must be wrapping his wrists as well, but that’s putting a lot of confidence in your arm being okay enough to spar in the first place. As dramatic as Hongjoong initially made it seem, you haven’t felt too much a difference. Your hand does tremble when holding a pistol in front of you, but close distance isn’t an issue. It’s moreso long-distance that presents an issue, and only with pistols. You aren’t completely sure whether strengthening the muscle will fix that, but it wouldn’t hurt to try anyway. Seonghwa wraps around you, tossing the roll of gauze off to the side, and places a hand on the side of the tattered brown punching bag.

“Just give it a few swings and stuff to warm up. If you’re feeling okay afterward, we can try sparring one on one. Okay?”

“Understood,” you mutter back. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof then steps away from the bag. You wait for him to get out of the way, finding his own bag. He starts to lay into it with jabs and punches. For a moment you just stand there and watch him hit the bag, but he hesitates when he doesn’t hear any sound coming from your side of the room. You whip your head back to the bag in front of you, settling into a stance you remember well from your time in the military.

This was always the most simple lesson for new recruits, and it was all based around strength. You were quite honestly a runt when you first became a recruit, however, and you had little to no strength. Sure, part of that could be blamed upon how you grew up and where, but it put you at a major disadvantage compared to your fellow recruits. That did make you the target of your generals for a time, and you were forced to go through extra training to just be on par with the other members of your unit, but the second they put a sniper in your hands, the balance shifted in your favor.

You still remember your old lessons quite well; although that’s a bit surprising since it’s been so many years since you first took them. The punching bag is rough under your knuckles as you knock against it. There isn’t much strain on your right arm, but the longer you use it, the more it burns. Not necessarily in a painful type of way, but rather just a tired ache in your muscles – a surefire sign that your muscles did indeed take a bigger hit than you initially thought they did.

Several minutes pass just like that; you and Seonghwa on opposite sides of the room, each hitting your own punching bag with force and dexterity. He’s the first one to pull back, sweat beading his hairline and causing the dark strands of hair to stick against his forehead. His chest heaves as he walks over to your side, hands pressed against his hips, and you notice that he’s pushed his sleeves up over his shoulders and revealed toned muscles that could definitely beat your ass handily.

You stop your movements as he gets closer and steady the bag with your left hand to look him in the eye.

“Yes?” You inquire when he doesn’t say anything right away.

“How’s your arm feeling?”

“No pain,” you answer with a small shrug of your shoulders. “Muscles are just a bit underused and tired.”

“You should be fine for some sparring then?”

It takes a second for you to process the statement as a question, and when it finally does, you nod with haste.

“Let’s do it, pretty boy.”

Seonghwa throws his head back as a laugh tears through his chest. He brings a hand to his hair, combing through the damp locks, and you follow him onto a thick mat. You backtrack immediately though to slip your shoes off and leave them at the edge of the mat, whereas Seonghwa just kicks his off on the mat and moves them with his hands. The two of you face each other in silence.

The gleam in Seonghwa’s eyes remains playful even as he secures the sleeves of his shirt further on his shoulders. You mimic the action and fold the sleeves of your basic white tee up like his.

“Two of three. Whoever gets knocked on their ass twice loses. Has to stay down for five seconds for it to count. How does that sound?”

“Easy enough,” you answer, smile stretching but you hide your teeth behind the line of your lips.

“I’ll go easy on you since you’re at a disadvantage, princess.” Seonghwa slides his feet apart slightly and falls into an offensive stance. You mirror his movements but step into a more defensive one. The second lesson they taught you in the military was to watch your enemy for patterns or nuances that would indicate weaknesses. Seonghwa is leaning all his weight on his front foot – the left one – which means he’s going to go for an attack first, then pull that weight back onto his right one. You push back on your right foot, shifting the weight back to be opposite his stance.

“I can handle you, pretty boy,” you taunt, tongue darting out to drag over your top lip.

Seonghwa’s left foot slides in, and you flit your gaze up to his face as he moves. The attack is easy to dodge, his movements readable and basic. You make a jab for the inside of his ribcage, he snaps his hand down against yours and catches your wrist with the same amount of ease. You twist your hand in his grip, slipping loose before he can toss you to the ground. Your gaze pulls off his feet to watch the shifts of his arms instead. As he moves left, you move right, and thus the two of you engage in a small dance.

He attacks next, staying on the offensive side of things. Feet skid across the mat as he lunges forward, but he turns at the last second and secures a hand at your hip. He fights to grab your leg, but you greet him with a sharp elbow to the shoulder. He stumbles back and lets your hip loose. You shuffle back a few steps. Eventually, you’ll have to shift over to the offensive side but Seonghwa won’t let up. He hits you with two consecutive attacks – one jab for your right shoulder, and as you are leaning away from him, he brings his right leg up to hook around your left knee. You don’t even have time to blink before he sends you down to the mat, hitting with enough force to take all the air out of your lungs. Seonghwa comes down with you, knee pressed against the inside of your hip to keep you to the ground. What follows is the longest five seconds of your life, and even as you try to tug out of his grasp, his weight proves too much for you to fight against.

“Five seconds, princess,” Seonghwa taunts as he pulls himself back to his feet once the time elapses. “One point to me then.”

He extends a hand to you, and you take it begrudgingly. He tugs you to your feet. The two of you fall back into your stances without missing a beat. Seonghwa’s eyes dance with playful exuberance as his stance falls to a defensive one. It seems that he wants you to be on the offensive side first this time, but you don’t take the allowance as a compliment. You’re certain that he could flip things back to the offensive side without much effort, so you opt not to go into an attacking stance quite yet. You keep your weight shifting from foot to foot.

You and Seonghwa resume your aggressive dance, exchanging blow after blow but not managing to send each other down quite yet. Whilst you manage to deliver several hits and they land nicely, it’s not enough to cast Seonghwa off his balance. However, now that you know a few of his tricks from the first round and watching his steps, you manage to dart around his attacks with haste. You are lighter on your feet than he is, although he’s still quite nimble and that surprises you for a man of his height.

An opening arises when he leans forward with his left foot. His right comes off the ground for a split second but it’s an opening nonetheless and you slip your foot under his before he brings it back to the ground. The surprise of hitting your foot rather than the mat causes Seonghwa to jerk upwards again. As his leg lifts you use all your force to ram your left shoulder into his chest. He stumbles back, balance quickly diminishing, and you sweep your leg in a circle to catch his and fully bring him to the ground.

His eyes go wide as he falls to the ground, and he almost seems to move in slow motion. You smirk as he hits the mat, an ‘oof’ escaping him, and you press one knee to the middle of his chest.

“Checkmate.” You know he’s more than strong enough to overpower you and flip the position with ease, but Seonghwa just lies back and smiles up at you with fire in his eyes.

“Good move, princess. That’s five seconds.”

“You practically gave that one to me,” you huff as you stand back up straight. You extend an arm to Seonghwa the way he did to you, and he lets you pull him up.

“Then I’ll make sure not to go easy on you this time.” Seonghwa chuckles to himself as he falls back into a fighting stance. You match him this time, knowing that you don’t have any room for error now that the score is one to one. Neither of you are directly offensive or defensive this time. Seonghwa’s posture is relaxed and confident, he doesn’t bend as low this time, and the gleam in his eyes reads arrogance. He’s certain that he will win this round as well, but you’re determined to at least give him hell before he takes you down.

You attack first this time, a swift jab to his outer hip, and Seonghwa closes your hand against his side by slamming his arm down on top of yours. He traps your wrist between his hip and forearm. You push your weight up against him, head connecting with his shoulder. This time, Seonghwa manages to keep you pinned though. He slips a leg between yours, hooking his foot around your ankle. The action nearly sends you spiraling to the ground but you spring your wrist loose at the last second and roll out of the way before he can pin you down.

You exhale a huff of laughter as you look up at Seonghwa. One of his sleeves has fallen back to its original place, but the other maintains its spot rather well. His hair remains pressed flat again his forehead, even more damp than before, and his chest heaves from the further exertion. You’re sure you look to be in a similar state of disarray but you don’t have time to think about it before Seonghwa is attacking you again. The sudden combination of attacks are rough and hard-hitting; he doesn’t even wait for you to get back up to your feet to hit you. You defend yourself as best you can, blocking around half of the attacks comfortably. One of his kicks hits your forearm awkwardly, and you release a small shout of pain at the contact.

Seonghwa ceases his attacks immediately. Freezes up actually and kneels beside you with eyes suddenly full of concern. In all honesty, it didn’t hurt that bad and you don’t even feel a dull throb coming from where he hit you. You’ve never been a fair player though, and you rub at the skin while hissing through your teeth.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Which arm is it? Let me see,” Seonghwa rants, hands coming to rest atop yours. His balance shifts, and in that moment, you swing forward and flip him onto his back. You pin his wrists on either side of his head, a cocky grin overtaking your lips.

“Still going easy on me?” You taunt. Seonghwa blinks up at you, still a step behind, and when he realizes how you tricked him, his expression settles into a bitter one.

“That’s a cheap trick, princess.”

“It still worked on you, didn’t–”

You don’t have time to respond. Seonghwa somehow tugged his wrists out of your grasp while speaking. He swings a leg around your waist and pushes off the ground to alter your positions. All of a sudden, you’re the one laying flat on your back with your wrists pinned to the ground. Seonghwa keeps both of your hands on the mat with only one of his, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that the show of strength is mildly impressive. He lifts his other hand to glance down at his wristband. It’s his turn to wear a cocky grin.

“Five seconds, princess.”

“That was cheap.”

“You only had me down for four.” Seonghwa pokes the edge of his mouth with his tongue, eyes taunting you with their playful gleam. “I win. Two of three. Although you put up a better fight than I thought you would.”

“Oh, what a compliment.” You writhe against Seonghwa’s grip. The awkwardness of the position is beginning to settle in a little, with his legs pressed on either side of your hips and his hand pinning yours above your head. He doesn’t let up though, eyes ever-playful as he stares down at you.

“It was cute when you tried to pin me down.” Seonghwa’s eyes scan your expression. Your face is hot but moreso from embarrassment rather than the physical exertion. Seonghwa’s cheeks are a little flushed, small beads of sweat travel down his temple, and you follow the movement with your eyes. “I wonder…” He trails off without finishing the train of thought then pulls off of you a moment later.

It gives you a chance to exhale a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“How does your arm feel?”

“Like it’s gonna be sore tomorrow,” you grumble as you pull yourself into a sitting position. “But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. Maybe next time you can actually try to beat me.” Seonghwa stands up and tugs at the bands around his arms. He unwinds them while smirking down at you. You glare back.

“Next time?”

“You think I’m going to let you off the hook? That arm isn’t going to fix itself with some ‘stretches’. I’ll put you on your ass every day if I have to.”

“Yea, well, something tells me you’d like to do that regardless.”

Seonghwa quirks a brow at your muttered comment. You don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body, moving head to toe, then he tilts his head side to side.

“Can’t deny that.”

“Ugh, you’re despicable.” You stand up and head for the double doors, intent on leaving the training room before he gets you even more flustered.

“Four o’clock tomorrow, Y/N!” Seonghwa calls out after you, a laugh in his tone.

“Yea, yea, whatever, pretty boy.”

✧✧✧ a/n: ohohohohoho i smell some sexual tension 👃👃👃👃 JKDFJ this idea came to mind, and some people on the survey were asking about sparring sessions or just daily lives of the crew along with y/n so i decided to break up some of our juicy tension with mORE JUICY TENSION wow at least im consistent sodifjofij i hope you all enjoy this part! it’s quite early in terms of me writing stuff but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head

this is a repost because i deleted the wrong one im sorry just ignore this and me slkdfjljiojo

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @yayhei @haotheheckk @noonawriter

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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namstruck · 3 years

Text

HOT AND COLD｜NAMKOOK

REQUESTED BY: -rabbiteeth (wattpad)

“where jungkook and namjoon are roommates and their air conditioner breaks in early august, the heat getting to both of the horny boys and eventually one thing leads to another,”

WARNINGS; sub! jk, dom! joon!! non-idols! teasing!! oral! etc.

WORD COUNT: 1590

brvvrrr

the white mini fan spins around, flapping namjoon's research paper when it comes around to his desk. surprisingly, it wasn't even remotely cooling him down and it was far too hot that it couldn't possibly be controlled. so of course he was too naive to believe that tiny fan could work, even just a little. he harshly erases something on one of the papers, almost tearing it from frustration. sighing, he opens the folder containing his essays on his computer and continues with his draft.

he wondered what the point of them was anyways, there was too many that at this point, with the heat too, he wanted to sleep it off and take a zero. but of course his big brain would say otherwise and would continue on with them. what he needed was a break, he had been at it for hours without stopping, so he felt he deserved resting at least a little bit. but at the same time he was suddenly aroused, maybe it was due to the heat or maybe he was overly stressed. yet he again just wanted to sleep it off, so looking over to his side and spotting his small twin bed he can't help but stand up from his black rolling chair and letting his heavy body hit the soft mattress with a soft thud. his eyes close by themselves, his breathing slowed down.

"aghh!"

namjoon's eyes shot open. of course jungkook was streaming as usual, why wasn't he surprised. he sits up, rubbing his tired, puffy eyes, the heat too was making him sweat, making it uncomfortable to sleep in, so the idea of resting was a big no no for now.

namjoon stands up deciding to go get a cold beverage. once at the fridge, he grabs two cold beers from the bottom drawer as he scratches his chest on top of his black, cotton tank top. he closes the door to the fridge and cracks open one of the cans, the other for his roommate. as he reaches the younger's room he could hear all the sound effects from his game and he himself talking. turning the door knob he could now see the chaos the streamer was in, namjoon sighs.

the older hands the shirtless younger his own can but taps it on his bare skin when he wasn't acknowledged, making jungkook jump from the coldness.

"oh hey," he slightly looks at his side and receives the can of beer from namjoon, "thanks." namjoon hums a response and takes a seat on the corner of jungkook's bed, watching him play. he watched as he jerked here and there as a power move adding to his mouse and keys, often taking a sip of his can, his back muscles flexing and sweat building on his forehead making his hair stick.

namjoon wasn't gonna lie; shit was making him horny again. the excitement and imagination of the younger beneath him, taking him all as cum built on his firm, built and exposed abdomen. his face blushed and lips swollen as he's moaning his name telling him to go deeper. namjoon lets out a shaky breath, his gym shorts tightening up from being half hard and from trying his best not to rub himself right now. feeling himself get harder by the second, he lets his lust get the best of him.

jungkook pressing hard on his keyboard, didn't hear or even see when namjoon got up from the bed and bent down near him. in the corner of his eye he could see him eventually, but thought he had dropped something until he felt his sweatpants being pulled down from the hem. startled, he removed his gaming headphones and instantly asked what the older was doing as he covered his mic. namjoon, on the other hand, just ignored him and continued, pulling down the grey sweats, seeing as he had no underwear underneath and taking out jungkook's limp cock and gradually making it harder when he began stroking it with his soft palm.

he then kitten licked the tip, making jungkook hiss from the sensation as he felt him run his tongue on his shaft. eventually, namjoon opened his mouth and made it wide enough to takes the precum-dripping cock in his mouth, rubbing it on his bumpy pallet and bobbing his head and slowly moving back and forth. the warmth felt good in his mouth, as well as the view from above. he was making the younger feel good too with his sloppy intake; maybe a little too good. jungkook tugged on his hair, pushing himself deeper into namjoon making it a fellatio.

namjoon, almost in ecstasy, rolls his eyes back from the pleasure of feeling him deeper. the groans and grunts coming from his roommate signified he was close to cumming, and after a few more thrusts he releases into his mouth, pushing himself some more to ride off his high. namjoon takes him out, his lips running on his base and kissing his tip again, and opens his wide to show off jungkook's mess. seeing his juices inside his wet mouth and tongue was erotic to the younger.

maybe it was lust or the alcohol or the heat making them both feel like this, but either way jungkook wanted more. namjoon stands up and kisses the boy, his kiss filled with sloppiness and making the boy shake. moaning into the kiss, jungkook reaches to take off the older's gym shorts only to have his hands pushed away.

"what's wrong? are you that desperate already?"

jungkook whines, bucking his hips up as his hard length feels the air. namjoon runs his fingers from his bare chest and slowly down near his member, yearning to tease him until he begged for it. but as much as he was tempted he also wanted it as much as he did. namjoon kisses his sweet lips again, this time deeper and more passionate, and bites down onto his shoulder leaving it bruised and marked with the imprint of his teeth. the younger's back arches from the pain with a quiet yelp following.

namjoon takes this time to remove the whiny bottom's sweats, leaving them to hang on the end of one of his legs as he teased at his entrance. jungkook couldn't help but whimper as he felt sensitive, both their bodies heating up. the amount of sweat that freshened the air had both roommates touching each other's cool bodies, yearning to rub on one another.

—

"do you like it when i tease you down here?" namjoon twists his wrists, hitting jungkook's certain spot, "curling my fingers in your tight hole, you begging for it like a bitch in heat?" the younger mewls as he gets penetrated faster and feeling himself cum on the three long digits. he huffs out a small whine from sensitivity, the chair sticking to his back from the sweat. grabbing his right thigh, namjoon centers himself with jungkook and gently rubs on him, sliding in easily and carefully.

the younger grips on the head of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he heard namjoon lowly groan as he's taking him in deeper. once in, the older slowly slides out and in teasingly until he starts making a rhythm and picking up his pace. skin against skin and leather being rubbed against echoed.

namjoon curses as jungkook reaches up and kissed and bit his lower lip, his abdomen already had a puddle of precum. and just how the older had imagined, jungkook was becoming a mess underneath him, flushed face, swollen lips and calling out his name as he swallowed him whole. as they both spilled out white ribbons of cum, namjoon tugged on the bottom's hand, leading and pushing him onto his mattress.

as jungkook laid on his chest, ass up and centered with namjoon's once again hard length, he shivers when the older spreads his cheeks and stretches his cum-filled, aching hole. and once again namjoon starts working on and pounding into the overstimulated baby, making him cry and whine cutely. he hated admitting how overly sensitive he was, but it just felt too damn good that it almost hurt when he tried holding back.

his head rests on top one of his lower arms as he hiccuped, gripping the sheets as he felt bites and wet kisses on his back. namjoon pushes the bottom's head into the mattress, thrusting hard and deep at and angle watching him cry and scream in ecstasy as he then gripped his locks, making his back lean onto his own chest. he moans into his as the heat increased, the knots in their chest and stomach building. the older pumps him a couple times. jungkook crying out a cute 'i'm cumming' as he watched namjoon kiss the back of his neck and the side in bliss.

jungkook's body drops, still in position, showing all the cum spilling and dripping out of him. panting tiredly, he turns his body around and passes out from exhaustion and the immense heat.

—

"maybe next time you should turn off your mic.." jungkook's ears flush red at the comment from his gamer friend.

oops.

#namkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon #bts smut #bts fic #oneshot

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ma-sulevin · 3 years

Note

20 for the NSFW prompts for Harper please 👀👀👀

Your wish is my command.

20. for angry sex

The Wayhaven Chronicles, Mason x f!OC (Harper Grey). 3,182 words, rated E. Set after everyone’s favorite line from the Book 3 Demo.

---

By far the best part of Unit Bravo’s warehouse base being so close to Wayhaven is its gym. Harper doesn’t have to worry about annoying her neighbors working out in her living room anymore, and she doesn’t have to worry about bumping into Douglas in the closet the police department has been trying to pass off as a gym for years.

With the warehouse so close, it’s way easier to just drive over there and exercise, get some tension out with the punching bag or the ridiculously high-tech treadmill, and… okay, yeah, maybe see if someone (Mason, it’s always Mason) is up for combat training.

She thought things might be weird (weirder) after the bakery, but neither of them seems keen on bringing it back up. Harper wants to just ignore the way his words stung when he said them, and he… well, no matter why he looked uncomfortable afterward, he’s acting like his normal self now that they’re using her training as an excuse to be in each other’s space again.

It almost feels like it did before, and Harper leans into it hard, fighting back and trying to gauge what he’s going to do so she can dodge his blows and roll out of the way of his tackles.

She’s not great at it yet, but she likes to think she’s getting better.

She’s pretty sure he’s not just taking it easy on her at least. She’s definitely going to have bruises on her thighs and back from falling down, even on the padded mat, and her knuckles ache from the few blows she’s actually managed to land on him, even through the wrappings she’s wearing.

The longer they fight -- well, the longer he dashes around her while she hopes to make contact with him before he makes contact with her -- the harder her breath comes and the slower her reactions, until finally Mason barrels into her, lifting her up and slamming her down on the mat.

“I think you’re getting worse,” he says, twisting her arm behind her back just enough so she’ll feel it, but not so far that it’ll hurt her. “You need to train more.”

Irritation flows through her, washing away the arousal she always feels in Mason’s presence. Even the solid weight of him against her back isn’t enough to overpower it, and she just tries to yank her arm out of his grip.

He releases her and gives her the space she needs to get up, but she just rolls over onto her back and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Fuck me.” She forces her words out from between clenched teeth, frustration coiling tight in her chest. She’s never going to be strong enough to fight back against any of the supernaturals she’ll come into contact with, so she might as well give up and go read those old books with Nate.

Mason’s long fingers wrapping around her wrists snap her train of thought in half, quieting the spiral before it gets too out of control. She almost forgets what she said until he presses her hands into the mat and shifts to kneel between her thighs.

“That’s not what I meant by ‘training,’ but I’m happy to help you out.” He grins at her, slow and wide, and tightens his grip on her wrists when she tests it.

It’s not what she meant either, but having his body so close to hers while the adrenaline from training is still swirling through her… it makes her reaction stronger than usual, all the energy surging between her legs so that she arches her hips up toward his before her brain fully has time to decide.

He leans in like he’s going to kiss her, but he stops when she tilts her chin up to meet him. Instead, he rakes his eyes down her body as his grin grows, and she can’t help but arch her back to entice him to touch her.

He shifts so that both her wrists are in one of his hands and reaches down to push her too-large tee up to expose her stomach, then higher to cup her breast through her sports bra. He squeezes, just this side of too painful, and his grin shows his teeth when she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Sure would help you work out some of that tension, anyway,” he says, and he leans down even closer, pausing when their noses are just close enough to brush together to wait for her to nod at him.

He always waits for her to say wants him.

The kiss starts deep, with his tongue dipping into her mouth right away like he’s just been waiting to taste her. She moans into it and wraps her legs around his waist, pulling his hips against hers. He moves into her, grinding down until sparks of pleasure flow through her.

He always touches her exactly the way she wants to be touched, like he can hear what she’s thinking to respond to it. He holds her tighter when she squirms, rocks his hips against hers in a slow roll, moves his lips to her neck the moment she starts to lift her chin.

She moans again as his teeth scrape over her skin, not even hard enough to leave a mark, but just the promise of it is enough to make her body flood with need.

Above her, the bastard chuckles, the noise pressed against her throat. “Delicious,” he says, and she curses herself for the way the word makes her heart skip. He bites at her again, a little rougher, then soothes the spot with his tongue while she spreads her legs wider.

“Mason?” He makes a curious noise and sits up just enough to look at her. His pupils are wide, his lips wet, and she can’t help the way her breath hitches at the sight of him. “We both have beds here.”

He doesn’t move. “Where’s the fun in that?” His smile grows as he speaks and he leans in to punctuate his question with another kiss. She lets him in, parting her lips for him, and tries to ignore the way it makes goosebumps roll over her skin.

The next time he pulls back to let her breathe, she says, “The fun is in Adam not interrupting us this time.”

Mason makes another little noise of consideration before releasing her. He’s up on his feet so fast she barely sees him move, then he has her up over his shoulder so fast it makes her head spin. She bites back a squeal and balances with her hands on his lower back, then lets them slide lower to squeeze his ass as he starts to move.

He spanks her in retaliation, and she bites her lip to keep from making any noise now that they’re out in the hallway. Being interrupted in the gym would be embarrassing, but so would someone catching them between the gym and Mason’s room.

If anyone sees them, they don’t say anything, and she’s none the wiser as Mason pushes through a door and brings them back into privacy. The bed he drops her on is her own, and she has half a second to realize he probably doesn’t want her in his private space before he’s crawling back on top of her to press her into her mattress.

She ignores the way that stings, because it’s what they agreed to at the start of all of this. Nothing complicated, he’d said, and she’d been so wound up she’d thrown herself at him. And here they are again, not seeing each other, but seeing each other naked.

She tries to ignore another flicker of annoyance at that, but it reminds her she hasn’t actually seen him naked in days. And if that’s all he wants out of this, then…

He moves when she pushes his shoulder, rolling onto his back at her direction. He starts to pull her with him until she slips off the bed to stand up, and he sits up to watch her.

He looks amazing already, hair mussed and lips just the tiniest bit swollen from their kisses. He arches his eyebrows when she doesn’t say anything right away, distracted as she is by the way his shirt is riding up around his waist, and he preens under her attention to goad her into action.

“Take your clothes off.” She tries to sound commanding, like she’s actually the one in charge, but all it does is make Mason’s eyebrows lift even higher.

“You first, sweetheart.” There’s a challenge on his face, and she rises to meet it.

She squares her shoulders and crosses her arms. “You just beat the shit out of me in the name of training,” she says, and leaves out the bit about embarrassing her at the bakery even though that’s what stings the most. “Least you could do is let me see you naked now.”

He licks his lips and then gives her another of his long smiles before standing up. He’s close enough that his arms brush against hers when he pulls his shirt off over his head, and it’s more of a struggle for him to push his jeans down without bumping into her, but she doesn’t step back, doesn’t step away from the challenge she’s presented him.

When he’s naked, he stretches to his full height above her and looks down into her eyes, his grin showing a hint of teeth. She rakes her eyes over his body, drinking in his defined muscles, the freckles sprinkled over his skin, the way he’s half-hard with his cock growing between them.

“Listen, I know you’re enjoying the view, but…” He breaches the distance between them, finally, first to tug at the collar of her tee and then to press his fingers under her chin to tilt her gaze back up to meet his. “There’s a lot more you can enjoy.”

He grins when she reaches out with one hand, and she’s gratified to hear his breath catch in his throat as her fingers wrap around his cock. She pumps him slowly, watching the way his muscles tense, the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes.

He’s beautiful, and she wants to wipe the smug smile off his face.

“Sit down.” She stops stroking him and pushes with that hand instead, guiding him down to sit on the edge of her mattress. He goes where she directs him, eyes wide and dark. He reaches for her hips and she steps back, moving out of his reach, and revels in the thrill that rolls through her at teasing him this way.

She pushes her shorts and underwear down and steps out of them, but she leaves her shirt on just because it’s long enough to block what he really wants to see.

He reaches for her again when she steps closer, but she wraps her fingers around his throat and he falls still. She can feel his pulse against her fingers, feels it quicken as she squeezes just a bit.

“This is for me,” she tells him, voice rougher than she wanted it to be. “Like you said. I’m working out some tension.”

The corners of his lips twitch up as she pushes forward, straddling him with her knees pressed into the mattress without letting go of his throat. He keeps his chin up and his hands fisting the blankets, waiting as she settles herself over him.

She shivers as she feels him hard and hot against her, want so clearly written across his features. She grinds against him, their eyes locked, and she can see the control slipping as she teases him.

She’s not sure how far she can push him, what he’s willing to put up with as she plays this game. She’s always let him take control before, but watching him squirm under her is making her wet.

When she finally tilts her hips just right and slides down onto him, he growls from deep in his chest. The sound sends a thrill through her, makes her wetter, makes the slide even easier. He grins at her when he bottoms out, like he knows what he’s doing to her, but he still just leans back a little to give her room to move and room to watch him since he’s the one on full display.

It is deeply satisfying to see his muscles twitching in an effort to stay still, to see his fingers digging into her blankets until they’re at risk of tearing because he’s trying so hard to give her what she wants.

She uses her thighs to lift herself up and push herself back down, slow the first time, then hard and fast. She takes from him, uses him for the pleasure she needs and doesn’t slow down to see how he’s taking it because she knows he can take whatever she gives him and more.

Under her, Mason groans with each thrust, a steady chorus that lets her know he’s enjoying this as much as she is. His pulse hammers away under her fingers, spurring her on as much as the pure euphoria coursing over her.

If she knew fucking Mason would feel this good, she would’ve dragged him away from the group the first time she caught him staring at her ass in her office.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” Mason’s voice, thick with arousal, makes her eyes snap up to meet his. “Is that what you needed?”

“Do you think your dick’s just going to magically make me feel better?” She sounds breathless, fucked out, and she hates that it makes him sound right.

He grins, showing his teeth. “I should’ve fucked you the second I found you in the gym.”

She slows her thrusts, switches to longer, deeper ones that make him lean forward, closing the distance between them. She fights him, just for a second, tightening her grip on his throat before giving in. She slides her hand around to the back of his head, tangling in his hair to pull his face to hers for a kiss.

He goes with her, but he bites her lip instead of kissing her. He tugs and she squeals, fucking down hard one more time before he finally gets tired of letting her do what she wants.

The room spins around her as he flips them, and then stars burst across her vision as he pushes her thighs apart and fucks back into her exactly as hard as she can handle. She howls as he laughs, and then she struggles to meet his eyes as he goes absolutely still.

“There you go,” he says, voice fake sweet. She doesn’t have any warning before he rips her shirt in half, shredding it like it’s a piece of paper.

Cool air hits her sweaty skin, sending goosebumps rippling over her body that have as much to do with the temperature as with the sudden display of strength. She doesn’t even bother to fight when he reaches up and gives her sports bra the same treatment, ruining her only clothes and completely exposing her to his hungry gaze.

“Isn’t that better?” His eyes darken as he stares at her, and she lifts trembling thighs to rest her ankles up on his shoulders.

“What are you waiting for?” She stretches her arms over her head and arches her back, just a bit, already confident she’ll be sore in the morning. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t move except to lean closer, folding her in half just so he can kiss her. His lips linger over hers, almost sweet, then his tongue presses into her mouth in a demand. She lets him take from her, like she took from him, and she can’t help but moan at the feeling.

Mason smiles against her mouth and starts to move his hips.

His first thrust is hard enough to shove her up the bed, and she stops herself from hitting her head against the wall by pressing her hands flat against it. Mason grabs her hips and hauls her back into his lap, holding her steady so he can fuck her without the threat of slamming her head into the wall as he does.

She can’t hold back her moans this time, not with the way he’s hitting her just right, not even knowing the rest of Unit Bravo has to be able to hear her. If he’s going to fuck her the way she needs to be fucked, she’s going to let him know how good it feels.

She keeps her eyes closed tight until Mason shifts over her, lowering her legs from his shoulders so that her thighs bracket his hips again and he can lean over her without hurting her. His thrusts stay the same, deep and perfect, but the way he grabs for her hand with his free one let her know that he’s getting close.

He kisses her, deep and intimate, and she can’t help the way she clenches around him at the contact. The way he twines their fingers makes her feel like his words from the bakery were a lie, and that makes her clench around him again even though she hates it.

He can tell though, he can always tell. He can read her better than she can read herself sometimes, and he moves his lips down to her neck. She tilts her head to the side so he can reach her better, and he chuckles against her as he scrapes his teeth across her skin. The promise of a bite pushes her closer, and the way he nips at the underside of her chin is her undoing.

She scratches his back with her free hand as she comes, squeezing her fingers with the other. Pleasure washes over her in waves, pushed on by his unfaltering rhythm.

He curls around her, holds her tight, presses in as deep as he can when he comes just after her. Just as her muscles relax, his tighten, and he fills her deep inside with a groan pressed against her throat.

He kisses her again as he relaxes, then again as he slips out of her. She presses her shaking thighs together and he laughs, squeezing them both with his hands as he sits next to her on the mattress.

“Better?”

Damn the man.

“Better.”

His next laugh sounds smug, and she ignores it, pressing her hands over her eyes instead. She flinches when fabric hits her bare stomach, and she looks down to see his shirt balled up on top of her as he pulls up his pants.

“Since I ruined yours,” he says, a long smirk on his face. He winks and then he’s gone, leaving her alone, despite the way she aches to have him curl up at her side for a while.

The shirt is soft when she pulls it on, and she buries her face in it to cover her blush.

It smells just like him.

#the wayhaven chronicles #Wayhaven Mason #twc mason #twc detective #my writing #oc: harper grey #roguelioness #x: lonely vampire

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

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Ok, I have a prompt for you. Can you do a one-shot of Jake and Amy's first morning together (preceded by the shot of them in bed in 3×01). Things like breakfast in bed, cuddling etc, even sexy talk of the previous night's events is all requested. Thanks♥️

HI @obsessiveperaltiagofangirl! I had every intention of finishing this in time for their anniversary but time ran away from me a little 😅 Anyways, I hope you enjoy! 💖

(G rated, for anyone who may be wondering! 😇)

in the light of day

There’s barely any light creeping across the floorboards when an only slightly hungover Amy Santiago opens her eyes, the dull lighting working in her favour as the effects of last night’s shots rush straight to her head. Despite the miniature hammers that seem to be tap, tap, tapping along the inside of her skull, a tiny part of her mind (the part that isn’t still trying to piece together exactly what happened last night) knows it’s a Thursday; and on Thursdays the routine is an early wakeup, followed by a seven mile run before work. She forces her eyes close for a second, cursing the efficiency of her body clock, and as her nose burrows into an unfamiliar pillow her eyes flutter open again.

She takes a deep breath as her blurry eyes take in her surroundings, recognising the exposed brick walls and proximity of the kitchen to the bedroom as the familiar trappings of Jake Peralta’s apartment. To her right she makes out the draped red fabric of a dress thrown onto an armchair - her dress, the one that she may or may not have purchased only yesterday afternoon - and as she stretches ever so slightly the sensation of cotton sheets rubbing against her skin confirms her suspicion that she is, in fact, completely naked.

There is one other detail that Amy picks up on (something so important that, once registered, does in fact outweigh all the others), and that is the proximity of said Jake Peralta’s warm arm against her skin. An arm connected to a body that, if their tangled legs are anything to go by, is just as naked as hers.

Naked, because despite both of their best intentions, stuff had definitely happened last night.

Jake’s arm feels surprisingly light as it lays stretched along the edge of her ribcage, his elbow bending faintly to bring his hand to rest on her chest. It’s an embrace that keeps their bodies close, but in no way feels possessive, and as her brain begins to catch up to the events of the night before Amy realises that not once, in their ten months together, did waking up with Teddy ever feel like this.

From his position behind her, Jake stretches - most likely a reaction to Amy’s own elongation mere seconds ago - fingertips scraping against her skin and remaining splayed across her upper chest as the bridge of his nose presses against her shoulder blade. She listens as his breathing returns to a regular rate, smiling at the feeling of his breath against her skin, and hovers her free hand ever so slightly above his.

She’s dying to touch him. To run her fingertips along the raised edges of his knuckles, the tiny bumps that can hold such power when aimed at those who dare to harm others. Circle the lopsided scar down by his thumb, the one he insisted was from an undercover gang initiation for years until Gina finally rolled her eyes and told everyone it was from her oven when he cooked her pizza once.

Trace the length of his fingers, and remember how they made her feel last night.

These were the hands that had occupied her thoughts frequently - admittedly a lot more in the past six months or so - and the reality of them pressing against her very bare skin this morning was turning out to be even better than anything Amy could have imagined.

She keeps her breath even, denying her heart the chance to race despite the memories that have begun playing in her mind. Tries not to think about all the times she’s watched these same hands cuff a criminal, or type furiously at the keyboard across from hers … run through his hair when the frustrations of the day began to be too much.

Speeding hearts wake up sleeping partners after all, and right now, Amy wants the uninhibited chance to explore.

Slowly, her fingertips skim against the soft, barely distinguishable hairs that run along his hands; movements growing bolder as Jake’s breath remains steady on her skin.

They were larger than she realised (a discovery that was not specific to just his hands), slightly calloused and entirely welcoming. She runs the pad of her fingertips against his, his fingers flexing instinctively to her touch, and with a blink Amy remembers it all.

The feel of him; the tentative brush of the outside of his hand grazing hers as they left the restaurant, remembers how right it felt when he finally took the plunge and pressed his palm against hers. The smile stretched across her face that had been ridiculously big - only one glance out of the corner of her eye had shown her that Jake’s was exactly the same - and then she was pulling him in the direction of her favourite frozen yoghurt store: a building they never got a chance to enter because suddenly, she was being pressed against a brick wall and suddenly, Jake’s lips were crushed against her own.

He towers over her in almost every way, and even now as she lay bare in his bed and carefully links their fingers together, Amy notices just how tiny her hand is compared to his - a curse of her tiny stature that she’s ignored most of her life. But with Jake, Amy realises, she’s never felt small or drowned out. With Jake, she was equal - even if she did stand a few inches shorter than him at the best of times.

Jake’s grip around her tightens, the steady breath in her ear changing rhythm as he slowly begins to wake. She feels his arms stop midway into a squeeze around her middle, frozen in place as the recognition of who they’re wrapped around begins to flood his mind, and already Amy knows that he doesn��t want to be seen as some kind of gross, regrettable one night stand that cannot keep his hands to himself the morning after. But she wants him to touch her - her suddenly fluttering heartbeat was proof of that if nothing else - needs to feel the warmth that only seems to come from being around him. And maybe (okay, definitely) they’re barreling towards that gooey can’t-get-enough-of-you stage, but there’s nobody that she’d rather be in that stage with; and so she strengthens her grip on his fingers, pulling his arms close to her body as she turns her head towards his.

His voice is gruff, but his breath feels warm against her skin. “Mmmf. Early.”

Amy nods, hoping that he can pick up her response from his position behind her. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Taking in a deep breath, she wills the ache in her head to go away. “Body clock.”

“S’okay.” The room falls silent, save for the soft breaths between them, and gently Jake’s fingers stroke a circular pattern along her chest. “How are you feeling?”

It’s a loaded question, one that Amy knows he’s chosen out of the several options she’s certain are running through his head, purely for its ability to be answered in multiple ways. And honestly, she could take his lead and give him a polite but vague answer, find a way to excuse herself and head home … get dressed for another normal day at work while they continued to dance around their feelings for each other.

But she was tired of hiding - tired of pretending to be nothing when they were clearly something. Last night had been a culmination of months of yearning - all of the furtive glances across desks and tension filled silences bubbling together into a table for two at a restaurant that really did make an excellent Kamikaze - and she’s never been one to break the rules (especially the ones that she herself had created), but sometimes you just have to let go of the responsibility and just enjoy the ride. And she didn’t regret it for a second.

Letting go of Jake’s hand, Amy turns slowly on the mattress, brow furrowing slightly as an unfamiliar lump in the mattress digs into her thigh. From beside her Jake shuffles slightly back, obviously already preparing for the worst, and before he can say anything she wriggles her body closer to his, gripping the top of the sheet as she closes the gap between them. “I’m feeling good. Pretty great, actually.”

HIs smile is so sweet in response, one hand bashfully sneaking out of the sheet to scratch the stubble on his cheek in what Amy guesses is an attempt to hide the blush creeping up his neck. Briefly, she thinks of the selfie they took last night on her phone - the same steady arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled his chest close to her back, the same smile on his face enticingly bright as he rests his chin against her shoulder. It was a great photo, even if the intended purpose of having her phone out was actually to order them an Uber, and she wonders if it’s too soon to make it his contact photo.

“Yeah?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

(Frankly, she could use some coffee … perhaps a little breakfast. A paracetamol or two wouldn’t hurt, either. But none of that held a candle to the sheer joy that was bubbling under her surface - the mixture of elation and trepidation that had joined forces to release a kaleidoscope of butterflies in her stomach the very second Jake smiled at her. So yeah, she was feeling pretty great.)

As one warm hand tentatively wraps itself around her waist again Amy moves just that little bit closer, watching as his eyes soften at her proximity. His hair is messy, poking up in various directions, and even though Amy knows it’s entirely her fault from running her fingers through it multiple times the night before, she’s itching to do it all over again. “Me, too. I mean, I did wake up to a naked Amy Santiago in my bed, so that’s naturally going to make anybody feel pretty great, but …” he laughs as her fist pushes against his chest in mock annoyance, grabbing her wrist before she can pull away and leaving a kiss against her palm. “Best reason to break a rule, ever.”

The free hand around her waist tugs her forwards, and as she feels the rush of blood hit the tip of her ears Amy leans into her partner, revelling in the still-new sensation of Jake’s lips pressed against hers, morning breath be damned.

They linger together for a moment, the lazy morning kiss of two people who are both still in a little bit of awe that this is actually happening, and the look of pure contentment on Jake’s face when Amy finally pulls away makes her heart skip just a little. He tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear - last night’s perfect blow wave long gone - and blinks a few times as though finally taking in the rest of his apartment. “Wait. Just how early is it?”

Wincing, Amy chews the bottom of her lip slightly before pulling the sheet up until only her eyes are showing. “I mean, I haven’t checked my phone yet but .. I’m pretty sure it’s about five.”

“Five? As in A.M?!”

“I told you, body clock!”

“Honestly, Santiago. You are the only person I know whose body clock would wake them up at five.”

His clear indignation was adorable (and surprisingly - a little bit sexy), and Amy drops the sheet and shuffles herself closer to Jake, just as intent on seeking his warmth as she is on fulfilling her growing urge for more. “It’s not so bad, you know …” she whispers, wrapping her left leg around his waist and pushing him towards the mattress, a silent request that Jake follows willingly. Pressing her knees down into the sheets on either side of him, Amy straddles his lower abdomen, smiling as Jake’s breath hitches obviously in his chest. “After all, being awake early means extra time for … other stuff.”

She plants her hands on his chest, grinning in satisfaction as a visible line of shivers begin to run over his skin. Jake’s hands slide over her legs, moving up to cup her butt before sliding up her waist reverently, and this time it’s her turn to tremble. Truthfully, if someone had told her three days ago that something like this would be happening so soon, she would have laughed in their faces (before immediately disappearing somewhere private to fantasise about such an impossible moment, naturally). Things were moving quickly, and she should probably feel way more exposed, resting the weight of her naked body on her partner’s waist, but his touch on her skin felt more right than anything Amy can remember.

Jake’s upper body lifts slightly off the mattress, craning his neck to meet her lips in another kiss; and she knows why it took them so long, and why they were both so hesitant to take that first leap, but oh, this feels like coming home. She grinds her hips into the new angle their bodies are making, sighing into Jake’s mouth as she feels him begin to respond, and as Amy wraps her arms around his neck Jake flips them gently, covering her body with his own as his lips press harder against hers.

“I’m a big fan of the other stuff,” he mumbles into her neck, peppering the statement with kisses and gentle nips as Amy chuckles softly, carding her fingers into the short hairs on the back of his head and holding him close. His hands roam the dips and curves of her carefully - the practised gentleness of a man who knows how easily great things can slip away from him - and with a satisfied sigh Amy closes her eyes to take it all in.

It had only taken them one night to grow from a jumble of nerves to something far greater (okay - one night, months of pining and a couple of years pretending it was all nothing), and even in the light of day, it was turning out to be better than she could have ever imagined.

It takes another few hours, lightly burnt toast in bed and a quick stop past Amy’s apartment before they’re both sitting in the respective desks, doing their absolute best to keep up the illusion that everything is exactly the same as the day before. It’s an appearance than barely lasts more than half a day - because clearly, everything has changed, and only for the better - and despite her tiny and slightly disruptive meltdown, Amy has the strongest instinct that this time she and Jake just might have managed to capture lighting in a bottle.

(And six years later, when Amy wakes up on their third wedding anniversary to the sound of her husband singing off-key to their son through the monitor on her nightstand, she cannot help but think that while that first morning together was pretty great, this one just might be her most favourite yet.)

#bit of a throwback for anniversary time!#jake x amy #ask prompts #the early days were so sweet and bubbly I could read about it forever #hope this is what you were looking for!#b99 fic #b99fic #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fanfiction #peraltiago fluff #my writing

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dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt · 3 years

Text

Not me saying I wasn’t going to post any of my writing and then immediately going back on my word, no sir!! I’m actually really REALLY proud of this tho, so... up it goes. His Dark Materials AU for my OCs!

[For those that don’t know, in the HDM world everybody has something called a dæmon, which is the physical manifestation of their soul in the form of an animal.]

Dusk bruised the sky, ugly purple-black with smoke and the oncoming night. No stars dared to tread above this city. Even the moon hid her face.

Below, the streets were populated only by shadows. It was easy to mistake them for one, hunched as they were on the stairs in a dark suit and with their face hidden behind an even darker sheet of hair. Only the ember at the tip of their cigarette separated them from the night.

Footsteps descended down the stairs behind them. Their owner had his hands tucked into his pockets, refusing to touch the brass rails mottled with grime. A staccato of claws clicked between each step.

“You’re late,” the living shadow said, the memory of a thousand other cigarettes burnt into their throat.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to come at all.”

A ribbon of smoke curled from their lips. “Don’t give me that shit,” they said, disgusted. “You always do. You always will. We both know it.”

“You’re in good spirits tonight,” he responded mildly. His name was Dante, and he regretfully knew the shadow too well to be offended. He hated them less than they deserved. His dæmon stood by his side in the form of a large black dog, the feeble anbaric light of the streetposts settling on her fur and gleaming in her calm eyes.

The shadow had no dæmon to be found.

They merely grunted and rose to their feet. They flicked their cigarette away; it carved a red arch through the air before it winked out on the pavement. They started walking.

Dante exchanged a glance that spoke volumes with his dæmon. But they followed, because he did know. They both did.

The shadow’s name was June, and Dante was their only friend (though, that may be too strong a word.) The reasons for this were immediately obvious, not limited to the miasma of cigarette smoke that seemed woven into their clothes, nor their frankly ugly tongue. Their voice was complicated, interesting, but their face was ordinary; long, with stark bones beneath dark golden-brown skin, an interesting nose and eyes the colour of charcoal. They were also abysmally short, the crown of their head barely reaching Dante’s shoulder. He didn’t mention that.

They barely had to flash their card at the bouncer before he swung the door open for them, his lizard dæmon curled nervously along his forearm. June strode through without a backwards glance. Dante gave him a nod.

It was dim inside the den. The air ought to have been stained red for the stench of copper, sweat and alcohol that clung to every breath; Dante thought he could feel the effects of a pint just from inhaling. The walls were panelled with dark wood, packed to bursting with people. Barely people – raucous grins, jostling, laughing, screaming like fiends in human skins. Even their dæmons seemed inebriated, staggering between their legs with tongues lolling against chins. Nevertheless, all parted for June and their silent, bulky shadow.

June didn’t spare them a single glance. They had bred this intimidation, this mystery, fed it with the tender care of a mother and watched its first steps with pride.

“Just keep your mouth shut,” they had told Dante. “You’re unknowable now. Their fear and uncertainty will make you great.”

That suited him just fine. He never was a man of many words.

Darodrey stayed pinned to his side like a moth to a board. The angle of her ears still read as calm, but she had begun to pant in the crushing heat of the den. He rested a soothing hand on her head. He could feel her anticipation crackling beside his own. They never felt quite so alive than when they were in these ratholes.

He drew back the shabby curtain that sectioned off the preparation quarter, allowed June to step in first. He pulled it to behind him, hands immediately dropping to unbutton his short coat. It fell to the floor, revealing an expanse of scarred olive skin and the lines of thick muscles. He opened the tin set to the side on the bench.

“Nova,” June told him, low. “Dumb as a barrel of shit, but he hits like one too.”

“His dæmon?” It was Drey who asked, as Dante slid a guard over his teeth. The shock of his dæmon speaking to them had been worn away by familiarity long ago.

“A mountain lion.”

Drey noted, “Also stupid.”

Dante pulled a white roll from the tin and began to unwind it around his knuckles. “Only Nova?”

“Mitchellson could be taken as well, if you’re fit after the first.”

“I’ll take him.” Dante flexed his fingers experimentally. “A bear, right?”

“Black,” June confirmed.

Maybe I’ve finally found a challenge, Drey murmured to him and him alone.

Dante secured the final bandage. “What do we get for both?”

“Enough.” June tilted their head, their hair falling against the blade they called a jaw. “As long as you don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t.” He couldn’t.

They’re depending on us.

They, they, they. The two men currently warming his bed with their dreams, wound together in a lover’s knot. Maybe they did depend on him, but not in a way that led into an underground fighting den. That would break them to know.

A roar went up from behind the curtain, more ferocious than any bear. Darodrey’s fur rose along her spine, lips pulling back in fierce delight. Dante rolled his shoulders, knocked his knuckles together till they ached.

“Get out there,” June said, and then their hand closed claw-like over his wrist. “Do not disappoint me, Diệu.”

With the adrenaline biting in his pulse, he didn’t even deign to answer that. Instead, he merely gave them a measured look and pushed through the curtain. Darodrey’s tail whipped out on his heels.

June watched after him for a moment. Their expression was unreadable, their fingers hovering over the red kerchief folded in their breast pocket. Then their jaw set, and they followed him out.

Dumb as a barrel of shit seemed to be the perfect way to describe Nova. His angelic name didn’t look like it belonged to the brutish man with a vividly new scar wound across his bald head. His eyes were, by all means, bright blue, but even they looked dull in his face.

To his credit, he wasn’t prancing or hopping like he was on hot coals, like some of the other peacocks Dante had fought. He simply leaned against the metal links behind him, taking in his competition from under furrowed brows.

Dante ran his eyes up him, down him as if in a mere cursory glance. His fingers were still purple with fresh bruises, darker on his left hand than his right. The muscles in his arms were massively developed. He was also very actively trying to convince Dante he held his weight on his right side. He was concentrating on it harder than he was concentrating on breathing.

Meanwhile, Drey was summarizing her opponent. She found her wanting – the same dull eyes, patchy pelt and a tediously swaying tail.

“Don’t be arrogant,” he told her.

“Vrox is right. You confuse arrogance with confidance too much.”

“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“Utter modesty never got anyone anywhere, Dante.” She stretched out one hind leg and then the other, unbothered. “We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t think we were the best.”

Dante hesitated. Something troubled curled like lead in his stomach.

“Pay attention,” she warned.

Their opponent and his dæmon had leaned to their feet. The crowd was stirring around them, a great wave of excitement, raw in the way only betting could achieve. Dante knew three quarters of those bets were on him, and he knew that would chafe at his opponent’s pride. Sure enough, he saw something close to hate flicker in Nova’s deep-set eyes.

The referee pushed between the two men, a smile fake and white as a skull’s wide on his lips. He dove enthusiastically into his usual spiel, but Dante tuned him out. He could recite it in his sleep already. He watched the lion dæmon’s claws unfurl from their sheathes, ticking lightly against the floor. Her eyes were locked on Darodrey. On her throat.

Good luck with that, bitch, Drey growled.

The bell sounded early, ringing clear above the crowd’s uproar. A look of frightened consternation darted across the referee’s face, but he did the sensible thing and tossed aside his dignity to sprint out of the way of the two fighters. Not a second too late, either: Nova came at Dante like a boulder in an avalanche.

Nova jabbed with his right hand, but expectedly the blow was weak enough for Dante to smash it aside with his forearm and return one of his own. It snapped Nova’s head back, snapped something else as well. Blood splattered down his chin, his nose a pulpy mess. His dæmon hissed in pain.

There was definitely hate in those eyes now.

Dante flicked some of the blood of his hand as Nova came at him again. A grimace crossed his face as Drey fastened her teeth deep enough in his dæmon’s foreleg to scrape bone, but his next punch whistled toward Dante’s face. Dante had to duck to the side to avoid it. It clipped his ear instead of knocking out his teeth, and Dante didn’t bother straightening, just slammed his fist into his stomach.

The angle was wrong, but Nova folded anyway, and Dante jerked his knee up. It caught his chin was a satisfying clatter of teeth. Nova fell backward, and cried out – not for himself, though.

Darodrey had his dæmon’s neck between her jaws and was shaking her violently, back and forth, back and forth as if she were trying to rip clean through to her spine. The lion twisted under her, loose skin bunching, and ripped at her face with jagged claws. Darodrey fell back reluctantly with red dripping from her mouth, snarling like thunder.

Claws, teeth, fists, two fights tangled into one. The noise was atrocious. Curses smudged into growls, roars, the sound of flesh ripping, skin and bone colliding.

Nova kicked Dante’s knee, forced him to down or risk a break. An arm found its hold around his neck. The demented cheers of the crowd dulled as if Dante had submerged his head underwater. Blood pounded thickly in his ears.

No time for fear, no hesitation. He grabbed Nova’s wrist in an iron grip and began to inexorably pry it away from his throat. Nova grunted from the strain – from surprise – his weight wavering on Dante’s back. The moment he could draw in a breath, he gathered himself and threw. Nova slammed into the ground, every scrap of air rushing painfully out of his lungs. His dæmon yowled. Dante was only half surprised when he rolled to his feet and came at him again immediately.

A sloppy mistake. To stay on the ground would mean the end of him, but to swing so quickly, so desperately, with his weight falling now onto his left side–

Dante left an opening. Waited.

And there was the left hand, twice as fast as the right, angled to catch him on the chin and knock him senseless.

Dante caught the punch by the wrist. He saw the panic flash in Nova’s eyes and waited just one moment more to let it set in, let him feel it. Then he twisted his arm under his own and drove downward with brutal efficiency. The bone shattered, and Nova screamed.

It was a ragged noise, an animal noise, the same that his dæmon gave as she writhed on the floor. Drey took advantage of the distraction by sinking her teeth in her shoulder and flinging her against the metal barrier.

Dante let the momentum carry Nova forward. The other man crashed to the floor, clutching at his arm. Dante noted distantly that he could see a shard of bone poking through the ripped skin at his elbow. Distant, far-away, nothing. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t a man. He was the roaring in his ears, the blur behind his eyes, the molten heat coursing through his veins. He was the mechanical action of kneeling over him, caging him in his knees, and smashing a punch into Nova’s cheekbone, feeling it give. Then his jaw, the imprint of the teeth within against his knuckles. Blackening an eye, splitting a lip to ruin. One punch ran into many. Raining until Nova resembled something out of a nightmare.

“Enough, enough or you’ll forfeit, I swear you’ll forfeit–”

He paused. There was a frantic, quiet voice in his ear. The referee had been trying to hold his arm back, but he hadn’t felt any resistance as he destroyed Nova’s face. Nova, whose body was a wreck. Nova, who he held between his knees.

In his mind, Jesse smiled up at him. His hands smoothed down his stomach, his thighs. Curious and trusting.

Nova groaned, blood bubbling from his lips.

Abruptly, Dante was sure he was going to be sick.

He staggered to his feet and lurched through the open cage door, shoving through the crowd. He would leave smudges of dark, dark crimson on their clothes wherever he touched them, he knew, but they couldn’t seem to get enough of it: hands showered down on him, patting, smacking, gripping, pushing and tugging. He could hear Darodrey snarling, only white noise that buzzed in his ears.

He burst through the back door into the reeking alleyway beyond. He stumbled against the wall, nails drawing bloody streaks down the uneven bricks. He stood there, and he shuddered.

But he wasn’t sick. He was nothing at all.

Darodrey whined and pressed her nose into his palm, licked at his trembling fingers, trying to clean off the blood. He could still feel the gore caught between her teeth. The torn flesh of a soul – such a terrible thing.

Diệu, Diệu, Diệu, she whispered.

The nothing coalesced slowly, becoming simply the bricks rough against his forehead. Out here in the cool and the smoke, the clouds had made good on their promise: a thin veil of rain misted the streets, gathered and trickled down between Dante’s shoulder blades. It should have steamed where it touched his skin, but it didn’t, because nothing here was pure. It tasted like soot in the back of his throat.

The door crashed open behind him. The violence echoed in his ears.

“They need you back,” June said, sharp as broken glass.

Dante didn’t reply.

“I said get back in there, Dante.”

Darodrey said, “No.”

“What.” The accent of the city made their voice flat and vicious. They turned their gaze to the dæmon.

The one without a soul, she thought.

“He hates this,” Darodrey said. She looked back at Dante, her eyes fathoms deep, gleaming starlike. “We hate this.”

“Liar!” June snapped. Drey laid back her ears. “You can be sweet with your boys as much as you like, you can pretend to be a husband and a friend, but this is you. This is what you were made to do, and you enjoy it.” A snarl twisted their voice.

Dante stood still for a terribly long time. An eternity, hanging in the faint drizzle, printed in stinging flesh. Jesse would call it a postcard moment. He knew it would never leave him, even when it was nothing more than a memory.

June let their words sink in in silence, their nails biting red crescents into their own palms.

Then Dante pushed off from the wall and it was a horribly efficient, broken motion. He straightened, wiped the beading rain from his face with one bloodstained hand. He didn’t look at June, nor Darodrey, but as he turned back to the den she moved with him, closer than his shadow. The roar and the heat thundered through the door to welcome them both.

June was left standing in the alley alone.

“This will ruin them,” Thyne said. It shifted where it hid tucked behind their breast pocket, wings fluttering in the place of their heartbeat.

They said nothing.

#Drey is a Hmong docked tail dog #and Thyne is a shrike #my writing #Dante #June #my OCs #I'm so fucking proud of this asdfghjkl #......... sigh.#long post #look at me actually trying to edit something for once lmao

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unlockthelore · 4 years

Text

Where The Heart Lies

An average day in the Elric-Rockbell residence includes a great deal of bargaining, bantering, and bickering. And they wouldn’t have it any other way. From the story One is All, All Is One on AO3. For more updates, follow the one is all all is one tag on this blog.

Winry ignored the pins and needles digging into her knuckles as she twisted the bolt a bit tighter. Aching fingers curled around automail ones turned to and fro to test the range of movement. Wires exposed from beneath the joint panels cast thin shadows over her work desk until the arm was set down beside its counterpart upon a small metal stand. Pain throbbed in her shoulders as she leant back, massaging against the hollow of her throat then rolling her shoulder blade. Papers with half-written scribbles and designs overshadowed both the ones with lilting script and the harsher ones depicting numbers and addresses to which parcels would be sent.

She sifted through each one with heavy-lidded eyes, stacking them aside then peering at them closely to ensure she had the correct pile. Once the grain of her desk could be seen, she raised a brow as the white order papers gave way to colorful ones. Slipping the page free of her work, she smiled faintly at the drawings in crayon and pencil. Her desk chair creaked as she shifted backward, and she slowly rose to her feet. The buzzing in her legs and deadened lead feet ignored in favor of wandering over to her bulletin board, rummaging around in a small box of tacks for a new pin.

The picture was tacked up aside of a photograph of two smiling children covered in dirt and pond slime while their father, who fared no better, held them from behind with a sunny grin. Her fingers brushed against the photograph. His joy, as beloved to her as an order for a custom-made piece, brought a smile to her face. Immortalized as it was through photographs — a moment frozen in time — she could remember the day vividly. Her eyes drifted close for a moment, and she ran her finger over the dried wax from the crayons, the drawing reminding her of what she had to finish.

A gentle creaking interrupted the silence as she stifled a yawn, her wrist covering her mouth. Den’s head poked through the opening then butt against the wood to push it open further, trotting through with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Hey there,” Winry mumbled, rubbing her fingers through her hair, her headband pushed up from where it slipped beneath her goggles. “Seems we’re both up pretty late, huh?”

Den, of course, gave no other answer beyond a panting bark. His tail whipped against the boxes emblazoned with the symbols of Rush Valley as he trotted inside, bumping his head against Winry’s leg while she walked back to her desk. “I should be done in a little while,” she said, scratching behind one of the hound’s floppy ears. “As long as it’s not too late, Ed won’t notice a thing.”

She sat down and stretched her arms above her head, fingers joined and cracking at the joints before falling to her lap as she deflated with a sigh. Balancing her job with everyday life was a struggle, but it was definitely worth it. She glanced at the photograph on her desk — wide and filled with so many faces of friends they’d made along the way and of family that’d come later. Ed and Al, whole just as they had promised, sporting big smiles at the end of their journey.

It took them so long to get to where they were now. Deciding to work from home and to send orders out to her clients was a no-brainer. If she could spend time with her family and continue her passions, then she was all the better for it. She could practically hear Ed telling her not to give up and all of his belly-aching about taking care of the little things while she put her hands to good use at what she did best.

“Dork,” Winry muttered under her breath, rubbing Den’s head at the confused snuffling. “Don’t worry about it…”

Her stomach growled, and she grimaced, pressing her hand to it and sitting upright. When was the last time she’d eaten anyway? Glancing around her desk for the clock she kept, she raised a brow at the plate and steaming mug set at the corner of her mess. Her fingers curled around the mug’s handle and brought it close to her nose. Dark chocolate cocoa greeted her with its bittersweet scent, a touch of honey sweetening her tongue as she took a sip. The plate housed a sandwich with the corners cut crisply, and upon further inspection, just a bit of everything as she liked it.

Winry was confused but grateful, taking a hearty bite as she continued working with her other hand. Den curled up by her feet with his tail thumping at the legs of her chair rhythmically. With that, and the sound of her wrench cranking and burners hissing, she barely noticed her surroundings, and time seemed to slip to a crawl.

“Hey, you gonna spend the whole morning working?”

Winry shrieked at the cold touch on her shoulder and whipped her head around, wrench raised and clutched with intent to throw. Golden eyes widened in concern, and shock mirrored the stricken expression on her husband’s face, his hands immediately raised in a familiar defensive pose. Her face warmed as a blush appeared across her cheeks, heart thumping as she lowered her weapon.

“Ed?” She muttered, rubbing at her eyes to ensure that he actually was there. After a few strokes of his stricken expression remaining and then a few more of it gradually turning to one of amusement, Winry huffed. “What are you doing up so late?”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Could ask you the same thing,” he said, reaching over to flick off the desk lamp.

“Wh—“

Protest parted Winry’s lips quickly, but snapped them shut when she noticed that without the amber glow, the room was still lit. Curtains drawn over the window, normally dark as the world was at night, were now faintly lit with blue dawn light.

“When did it get to be morning?!” Winry whisper-yelled, jumping up from her chair and hurrying to the window. “And we have so much to do today. How did I lose track of time?!”

The curtains were thrown open, and to her dismay, the sky was already beginning to tinge a light blue. Smudges of hillsides and grassland on the horizon blanketed in mottled shades of grey and black. Mortification aside, realization dawned on her that she must have been in her workshop all night. She cast a longing look over her shoulder at the blond man skimming over the order slips with a finger pressed to the papers to guide along as he read.

“I don’t know,” Ed murmured, and Winry wished she could gauge whether he was upset or neutral. Usually, when his head was stuck in a book or when he was in the middle of reading, he always had this blasé, distracted tone. “This is a pretty big order, isn’t it?”

Guilt twinged at hearing the genuine interest in his voice. Winry eased the curtains shut then pressed her hands together, fingertips to knuckle then back, feeling the ache in her joints; but it was nothing compared to the one in her chest.

“Ed,” she started gently, swallowing when he gave a distracted hum in reply. “You didn’t…”

Her words trailed off, and after a moment of silence, Ed lifted his head to glance towards her. His puff of breath was soft. Lips curved into a smile that made his disinterested look gentler, an arm offered to her which she gladly took, pressing close to his side with her hand flattened to his back.

“Nah, it wasn’t one of those nights,” he assured. His voice was deep and warm, lips brushed against the crown of her head. Winry wanted to tell him to wait until she’d bathed. Her forehead was likely clammy from sweat, and she could hardly imagine how her hair smelled, but neither must have bothered him as he pressed a smile to her cheek, accompanied with another kiss. “I just woke up when I noticed the bed was cold and realized that my wife was somewhere else.”

Winry huffed and poked his side, ignoring the jolt in her stomach at the raised skin from one of the scars bisecting his stomach.

If Ed noticed, he didn’t say anything, continuing on his tirade with a haughty tone and a light squeeze to her shoulder. “Poor Den was in and out of the room so often, you didn’t even notice him.”

Almost as if to punctuate what Ed said, Den barked and panted, looking up at them expectantly. Ed tipping his head towards the canine with a raised brow as if saying see? Winry tucked her arms around his sides and hugged him close to her. Whether it was from the exhaustion from or the weight of knowing he was on his own, she didn’t know, but the guilt was heavier on her than usual.

“I’m sorry…”

“Hey, come on…” The snobbish tone was replaced by a softer, tender one. Ed’s hand, calloused and large, set against her shoulder and pressed to hug her closer. “I know how into your work you get, Winry. It’s fine.”

She wanted to disagree, but he was just as stubborn, and she knew he only meant what he said. It was one of his more annoying traits. A light kiss was pressed to the top of her head despite the smoke in her hair, and when he pulled away, Winry lifted her head to meet his gaze.

“Just promise me that you’ll take a break.” His eyes were almost brown in the weak light, cheeks rounded with joy. “Alright?”

Winry sighed softly then pressed a kiss to his jaw, delighting in the brief flicker of surprise. “I promise.”

It was difficult to tell if he was blushing or not, but she had a sneaking suspicion from the way his eyes darted away from her. Years of marriage, two children, and a host of experience between them, yet he still turned red when her lips grazed his skin. Some women might have found it immature, but none of them would ever get the chance to be with Edward Elric.

“And drink your water,” he mumbled in that quiet, pissed-off tone he often used when he was embarrassed, arms withdrawing from around her as he turned away.

Winry giggled. Seconds from calling out a retort that she normally would, she paused and glanced toward her desk. The plate where her sandwich had lain was gone, and in its place were peeled apple slices on a small saucer. The mug she’d been nursing for the better part of a few hours was also missing, replaced by a cool glass of water misting on the sides with a coaster set beneath it.

“… Wait….”

She distinctly remembered having gotten herself cocoa and food before she shut herself in her workshop. Den kept coming in through the door by pushing it open and eventually, she gave up on shutting it. Engrossed in her work as she’d been, she hardly noticed when her meals kept replenishing themselves. Grateful to take another sip or bite so that she could continue with what she was doing.

“That was you, Ed?!”

He tensed in the doorway, his loose hair falling over his shoulders and whipping around to drape down his back as he pointed at her. “Hey, don’t sound so surprised. Sickness and health, remember?” His nose wrinkled, voice lowering as he whirled his head away. “I’m taking care of you just like you took care of me, so get used to it.”

So that’s what it was. Fondness swelled in her chest as she took a few steps toward him, careful of Den’s wagging tail as she passed by.

“… Ed…”

“Wh— Hey, what’s with the eyes?” He turned to face her, lips pressed into a frown. “I know you’re tired and all, but — mmmph!”

He really did talk too much. Winry smiled against the soft touch of his lips to hers, sighing gently when he drew her into a tight embrace. While she knew that she didn’t smell the sweetest , he still carried the scent of musty books and chalk. Her heart thudded at the familiarity and how easy he coaxed her lips apart. The bittersweet taste of dark chocolate met with a charming hint of mint. Winry’s fingers nestled in Ed’s hair when they parted, a smile curving her lips and brushing against his own.

“I love you too, Ed.”

The puff of Ed’s breath was soft against her mouth as he laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“What, wh— ah!” Winry shrieked as she was lifted up in his arms, her ears burning at the tight squeeze around her thighs.

“I’ve been refilling your drink and getting you food for the last hour, and you didn’t even notice,” Ed complained , tucking her close to him as he carried her into the hall. “You’re tired. Come on, Den.”

Winry squirmed, though it was mostly for show. She did feel exhausted and could barely keep her eyes open. Knocking her fist against his shoulder blade as he carried her down the hall, grumbling all the while.

“But you just said that if I promise to take a break, I can keep working!”

“That was before I realized being a gearhead was frying your brain!”

“What was tha—”

Their arguing was interrupted by the soft patter of footsteps. Winry peered past Ed down the hallway where the faint light from the windows cast shadows over a squirming bundle dragging across the floor.

“Uh-oh…” Ed mumbled, looking over his shoulder. “Here, I got her.”

He set Winry down on her feet, slipping away from her, pressing a light peck to her forehead before he jogged down the hall.

“Nina?” He called in a hushed tone, reaching out for the squirming bundle. “Hey, where’re you going…?”

From beneath the quilt, a little girl with sandy blond hair poked her head out, her wide blue eyes watching him curiously. “Daddy…?”

Winry smiled slightly, leaning against the door while Den sat at her feet. Edward muttered to their daughter while chasing her into the living room. “Come back here, where’re you off to?” He asked, scooping her up in his arms, blanket and all.

Nina sniffed and rubbed her hand against her nose, trying to keep a grip on her blanket with the other. “Hungry…”

“Yeah?” Edward bounced her lightly, glancing over his shoulder at where Winry stood. “Well let’s eat the apples your mom didn’t want, huh?”

“Who says I didn’t want it?” Winry called after him as he stepped into her workshop.

“Hey! Back to bed,” he called, pointing a finger around the doorway. Nina’s giggling joined Winry’s chuckling, her squealing laugh, likely from Edward tickling her, breaking the morning quiet. “You’re going back to bed too after a snack.”

Winry shook her head and started climbing the stairs, covering her mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Geeze, when did I get to be the responsible one around here?”

That’s part of having a family, Ed. Get used to it.

#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fmabigbang2020 #edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #my fanfiction #fanfiction #one is all all is one #nina van elric

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