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transamorousnetwork · 3 months

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What Happens When Your Date Doesn’t Go As Desired

In December, I met this amazing trans person. How I met him was so awesome, I wrote about it in a previous post.

Now, before you get triggered about me using “he/him” pronouns, a warning: don’t make assumptions. This story has a bunch of awesome twists in it. Including one having to do with this guy’s gender identity.

So keep reading.

I wrote that previous blog gushing about how the Universe coordinates events perfectly. So perfectly meeting him was a foregone conclusion. After meeting him that first time, I was smitten. He gave me his number. Then we set up time to meet. It would be our first real date. An opportunity to sniff each others’ butts…so to speak.

I felt we were a perfect match. But it was clear Quinn wasn’t so sure. I was up for the exploration, knowing however it would go, it would be perfect.

Take note!

Did you notice that last sentence? It expresses the purpose of this post. I’m writing this post as a followup. But I’m also, as always, offering advice on how to effortlessly meet your match. And to share what to do when your match doesn’t go as desired.

What you do when things seem to go wrong determines your future. This shouldn’t surprise regular readers. Your thoughts in the present shape your future. Negative thoughts align you with future experiences that will match that negativity. Positive thoughts align you with future positive experience.

So when your date doesn’t go as planned, you have a choice. You can create a future that looks like the experience you just had. Or you can create a future that looks different. How you think is how you create. And most trans women and trans-attracted guys are creating futures resembling their past experience. Which is why so many in both camps are unhappy in love.

So take note!

The fact is, your dating life is going perfectly. If it sucks, that’s showing you something you really want to know. It’s showing you that what you’re creating isn’t aligned with what you want. So change your creation approach!

Unfortunately, almost no humans understand this. So they double-down on stories creating their unpleasant results. Doing that, they create more unpleasant results! You don’t need to do that.

The Universe always reveals

The first indicator something was up was the frequency with which Quinn communicated. Bottom line: there was no frequency, because there was no communication. That was a red flag. I sent a confirmation text, to be sure he gave me the right number. I didn’t get a reply until the next day. When I replied to that message, I didn’t get a reply at all.

Something was up.

Of course, he could have been busy. But think about it: if someone really wants to get to know you, won’t their behavior match that? The answer is yes! If they’re not matching your eagerness then they’re not eager. And if they’re not eager, that should give you pause.

Now, what you say to yourself about that is important. Positivity is more important than the truth. Because while people think the truth will set them free, most of the time, the truth binds them to things they don’t like. Especially if the “truth” they’re looking at is unpleasant.

I knew some of what was up. But the whole story, I also knew, would soon come out. That’s because I know the universe always reveals to me what I want to know. (<—-that’s a powerful story you might want to steal from this post!)

In our first encounter I mentioned my ex-wife. When I did, I noticed a shift in Quinn’s being. It was subtle. But my “spidey senses” told me something changed. That got confirmed later.

He drops a couple bombs

Quinn eventually did reply. Then we set a time for our date.

I got there early. He came on time, looking disheveled because he just got off work. Still, to me, he was radiant.

The first thing Quinn said was he is married…for 20 years! Married to his High School sweetheart! At that news I was crestfallen. But, knowing what I know, I quickly recovered my positive disposition.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to scare you off,” he said. Ok, I thought. Positive sign…I guess.

Then Quinn described how he started transitioning a few years ago. He and his wife no longer see each other as intimate partners, so they’ve opened their marriage. She has a few partners she is seeing. Quinn has none (this is important for later).

Quinn and I then dwelled a bit on his transition. I gushed about how attractive he was, both physically, but also energetically, which he could appreciate because, it turns out, he’s also heavily into spirituality. Quinn acknowledged a hormonal condition that naturally has him presenting extremely androgynous. In fact, despite having begun transitioning, he said he was taking testosterone.

“Why?” I asked.

He replied that he’s started to de-transition. “I believe my wanting to transition was self-directed homophobia,” He said. “My unwillingness to accept that I’m attracted to men.”

Wow. This was getting really interesting! So he transitioned because he had a story “only girls are attracted to guys. So I must be a girl.”

Personal expansion stares me in the face!

It was also getting interesting because in that moment I was discovering something about myself. Something that, again, made us perfect matches.

You see, in my spiritual practice, what I’ve learned is real love is unconditional. Real love ignores conditions. Real love doesn’t care about sex. It doesn’t care about gender. Real love doesn’t care about how much a person makes, or what that person does to make that money.

Personal preferences do care about those things. And personal preferences can trump real love, turning it into something other than that. And let’s be frank: personal preferences change. They typically are based on beliefs. A lot of beliefs about ourselves. And beliefs about what others might think. Including what they might think, for example, about our partner and how that reflects on us.

We all are all living, thinking, walking, being love. We ARE love at our core. But relationship expectations and preferences can thwart that realization. What I was realizing right around the time Quinn dropped these bombs was, maybe I could enjoy loving a guy. Why not? I am love. I want to love unconditionally. And here was the Universe bringing me a guy who reflected exactly what I was contemplating and throwing him right in my face!

It was LOVELY. And it endeared me to Quinn even more. Not less.

By this time, I couldn’t help it. I just let it all hang out. I told Quinn that, in no uncertain terms, if he was game, I’d like to explore this more and see where it goes. Quinn agreed we had a lot in common. He wanted to see me again and see where things went.

But I also sensed some hesitation in his vibration. And that was the next red flag.

Making him own his stories

After talking about his transition, or rather, his de-transition, Quinn asked me about my age. Or rather, as I prefer to put it, “the age of my body”.

Age is a big sticking point for humans. It can wreak havoc on all kinds of goals. Especially relationship and love goals. It’s something I’m working through myself. As I come more into being unconditional love, I’m letting go of stories about my age. Which is why I was able to talk with Quinn. He’s 36. I’m nearing 60 (although I don’t look it). I think the age of my body concerned Quinn. Particularly given the relatively short time he’s been in his.

^^Age is a big sticking point for humans. (Photo by Gert Stockmans on Unsplash)

So we talked through that issue and it was clear his concerns weren’t mollified. That’s ok, I thought, his concern has nothing to do with me. It’s about his preferences. Preferences that probably would block potential enjoyment he could have experiencing “us”.

Did you get that? That paragraph above is yet another positive story. In telling it, in my reality, I forced him to accept responsibility for his stories. In other words, I didn’t make his concern about age diminish my knowing of what I offer another. Nor did I let it invalidate my self-worth. That’s an important skill to cultivate as you explore relationships with other humans.

Quinn and I talked about other topics. Things we have in common, for example. We talked about his home remodeling project and our mutual love for BMW cars. That we both love walking and riding bikes as means of transportation was another thing we talked about. We did have a LOT in common.

However, I think Quinn couldn’t focus on the many things we had in common. Instead, he focused on things he saw as red flags.

What happened?

We never had that opportunity to meet a third time. Although he asked me to reach out to him in a couple weeks, when I did, he didn’t reply. And here is where the dating advice gets important.

At this stage in a relationship –– presumably the “end” –– what you do next is CRITICAL. What you do next either creates more futures consistent with what you just experienced, or, it creates CHANGE in your relationship experience. Since I know this, I created the latter.

What I’m going to share may not resonate. I’m in a much deeper, spiritual experience than you likely are. So what I did you might not be able to do and be sincere about it. But you can create your version of what I did next. And doing so will serve you tremendously.

After not hearing from Quinn, I did what I recommend all my clients do when a potential partner poops out: I created stories bolstering my positivity. Looking back at what Quinn shared, I could create several such stories. Stories that put responsibility on Quinn for doing what he did (ghosting) instead of making it about me:

He’s de-transitioning. That must be wreaking havoc in his head. I don’t blame him for behaving this way. He probably has a LOT of things he’s thinking through.

He’s married in an open relationship. I know from experience that open relationships can be hard. I imagine it’s even harder for a cis-trans couple married for 20 years and negotiating opening the relationship.

This is his first attempt with a guy. He’s likely overwhelmed with the idea of facing his shame and self-loathing (he called it self-directed homophobia). My openness and willingness probably overwhelmed him. I told him with extreme clarity that I found him desirable. He probably doesn’t see himself as desirable.

His wife has partners, he doesn’t. I know it’s one thing for a partner to have lovers. But when that partner’s partner starts seeing someone, it can be hard…for both parties. He’s probably finding it difficult to share. Or maybe SHE’S finding it difficult to experience.

These four stories, fostered a deep peace within me. They also had me feeling compassion and understanding about Quinn. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not. What matters is how the stories make me feel. Because if I feel positive (and compassion and understanding are positive) that means I’m aligned with a better, even more positive future.

But I wasn’t just feeling compassion and understanding. I felt (and still feel) deep love for Quinn. An unconditional love. I could have been with him no matter what he was going through. And isn’t that what humans are looking for in a relationship?

Unconditional love: what it looks like

Unfortunately, most people who have an experience like what you just read will resort to blame. They’ll attack and accuse. They’ll make up stories that demean the other person, or themselves. Trans and trans-attracted people especially do this.

The problem with that is, one, the person you’re attacking doesn’t know what you’re doing. They’re not affected by it. Not one bit. Two, YOU ARE AFFECTED BY IT. And your future is too.

After a suitable time passed, I sent Quinn a text. My (unconditional) love for him was so strong, it just came out of me:

This is the thing: if you need someone you love in your life, or if you suffer because they no longer are, you’re loving them conditionally. That’s not what you are. It’s inauthentic.

I get it though. Society trains us out of our unconditional love. Movies, songs, parents, even potential mates do this. No wonder there’s so much suffering in the name of “love”.

My clients are finding their way out of that suffering. You can too. Contact me to learn how.

Quinn gave me a huge gift. One I’ll cherish. No matter who he ends up with, I wish him the best.

#transgender #transamorous #mtf #transattracted #transgirl #transisbeautiful #transsexual #transamorous men #transattraction #transamorous network #trans relationships #relationship advice

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violettelueur · 3 years

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SEVENTEEN || KYOTO SISTER SCHOOL EXCHANGE EVENT - GROUP BATTLE 3

↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of killing + mention of explosion + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 02 april

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 2

↳ next episode : sage

↳ barista’s notes : hehe you guys really don’t trust me anymore ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ...but here is the real episode everyone ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ i hope you enjoy it with all your hearts and don’t worry about anymore pranks, i am not that type of person unless it’s april 01 ʕ – ᴥ – ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

no cursed spells used this episode..

crescent moon shape cursed energy swing : here

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“You want to become the head of the Zenin clan?!” you questioned in a surprised tone before turning your head to the side to face the weapon specialist sorcerer, only for your upperclassmen to continue to take a swing from the water bottle that you had brought her.

“It’s to spite them. What? Don’t you believe in me?” Maki responded to you once she twisted the lid of the water bottle closed before turning to look at you with a small smile.

“No, it’s not that...it’s just the process is just a whole drag, you know the paperwork, the connections with the other clans as well as your own family, it’s draining,” you commented before slowly laying down on your back leading your head to land on your track top that you had placed as a pillow.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t mention anything about the criticism,” Maki mentioned, leading you to stare up to the sky for a second before shifting your eyes to her direction, only to peer at a face that didn’t show any hesitation nor worries but rather confidence.

“I don’t care about criticism at all, it’s just a whole drag ass of a process, especially when you have to deal with two other male clan leaders,” you muttered under your breath since you didn’t want to mess up by saying three since you were technically the head of the L/N clan unofficially.

“I guess so, but I can’t wait to see the look on my family’s face when I become a hotshot sorcerer though,” Maki mentioned as she took her glasses off to give you another smile causing you to fully turn your head to the side to gain a proper clear view of your upperclassmen before giving her a soft smile back.

“If it’s you, then I wouldn’t mind at all Maki-san,” you declared causing the sorcerer to giggle lightly at your comment leading you to follow on since the laughter of Maki became really contagious for some odd reason.

‘If it’s you, then I wouldn’t have to hide anymore…’

“By the way, where is that idiot taking you this week?” Maki suddenly questioned, causing you to look at her with a slightly perplexed expression on your face before you came to the sudden realisation that she was talking about the strongest sorcerer that became your adoptive father.

“He’s taking me somewhere this week?” you asked confusingly as you quickly sat straight up only to find the mentioned man wearing a pair of black tinted glasses with the classic outfit of a simple white button-up shirt with black suit-like pants waving at you.

“Looks like he is, have fun on your daddy-daughter date,” Maki teased before standing up to continue training with the other second years as well as your classmates that gave their teacher a glare since they wanted to train with you a little longer.

ꕥ

“Why does Maki-san have to suffer because of that stupid clan?” Nobara shouted loudly causing you to jump slightly because you didn’t expect her to be yelling in the middle of Starbuck with her chocolate Frappuccino in hand before you started to look around to make sure no one was looking in your direction since people weren’t supposed to know about the existent of sorcerer as of right now.

“What’s wrong?” you asked in a concerned tone since you didn’t really want to cause a scene right now as you moved your vanilla cream Frappuccino straw away from your lips.

“I don’t get why the Zenin clan are halting Maki-san’s promotion, it’s stupid!” Kugisaki declared as she waved her arms around to exaggerate her statement nearly making you giggle at the sight since she looked like a sea creature right now.

“Well, it is quite common for families to do that when one of their members do not have cursed energy within them, they don’t even take the Heavenly Restriction into consideration,” you answered before taking another sip of your sugary drink.

“But why, isn’t superhuman physical prowess a good thing?” Kugisaki asked, before beginning to scroll through her phone to look up other places that you and she needed to visit before you both left to go back to Jujutsu Tech.

“Well, once they reject someone, they won’t take someone back, it saves them from the embarrassment of taking someone back,” you answered before looking to the side where there was a window, showcasing the roaming crowd in the city of Shibuya as some students were roaming around with books in their hand to head off to the library and some office workers, who were rushing back to their workplace from their lunch break.

“To be honest, it’s quite pathetic, it’s better to have someone that has superhuman strength and speed than a pure jujutsu sorcerer sometimes,” you commented, causing your classmate to look at you with confusion on her face.

“Why do you think that?” Kugisaki questioned as she was becoming intrigued by what was going on in your mind right now.

“Sometimes they survive things that other sorcerers can’t, it’s like a cheat code from certain death,” you answered as you turned to look at your friend before taking another sip of the vanilla drink that was right in front of you. “Besides, the Zenin clan are just full of weak men that are scared that they have to bow down to a woman, it would be funny to see them shocked,” you stated with a smile on your face leading Kugisaki to look at you with a surprised expression before seeing the slight hint of amusement in your eyes once that statement left your mouth to which caused a small smirk to appear on her face as well.

“There’s a reason why the queen is the most important chess piece on the board,” you comment before taking another sip of your vanilla Frappuccino letting the sweet flavour fall onto the tip of your tongue as if you could already taste your victory if you ever went against the Zenin clan in your lifetime.

ꕥ

“Do you get it?”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Kugisaki quickly looked up to discover her opponent in an extremely irritated expression, who was currently in the air as she was sitting upon her broom that just minutes ago slammed across the face.

“They don’t demand strength from female jujutsu sorcerers, they demand perfection! And on top of that, Mai-chan is also fighting against even more outrageous demands,” Nishimiya declared as she stared down at Kugisaki while trying to explain the disadvantages of being a female within the sorcery world that they were both currently in while trying to make Kugisaki conscious about the situation of her lower classmen and somewhat make her feel some sympathy towards her.

“I get that you’re a pain in the ass!” Kugisaki declared as she used her cursed energy to raise up three nails before swinging towards them Nishmiya leading her to dodge with her broom effortlessly before using a huge gush of wind towards the first-year, only to her surprise that Kugisaki was still standing with a smirk on her face, just like the one she showed you back when you both went on that Starbucks date.

“I’m used to getting knocked around and that attack isn’t even enough to compare to what I’ve been through,” Kugisaki mentioned while lifting her bangs away from her face as she began to recall the amount of time you had made her lose her footing as well as violently hitting her to the point where Panda had to save her a few times before she could even hit the tree she was going to crash into during the two months of training that everyone had.

“All done with your lecture?!” Kugisaki rhetorically asked as she raised up more of her nails before violently smashing them with her hammer towards Nishimiya again leading the sorcerer to dodge them once again while continuing on with her speech.

“Perfection is easy compared to what’s demanded of Mai-chan! She’s from the Zenin-can, one of the three major clans of elite jujutsu sorcerers. Perfection is expected as a matter of course there,” Nishimiya commented as she continued to ride her broom before stabilising herself once the attack had finished.

“‘Inherit the Zenin clan’s hereditary technique.’ Anywho don’t meet that demand, start their sorcerer lives as failures. Among those, women aren’t even allowed to stand at the starting line. Without the Zenin clan lineage, they’re not considered jujutsu sorcerers and if they’re not jujutsu sorcerers, they’re not considered people,” Nishimiya yelled out as if it was her own story that she was reciting to Kugisaki, leading to the first-year to somewhat zone out as she began to remember something that you had mentioned to her one time.

‘Gender should not matter at the end of the day, if you can beat or exorcise them...why should you care what gender they are? You won the chess game, right?’

“She’s lived her entire life with such scorn in a family without a shred of affection. Can you imagine how much Mai-chan and others suffered just to obtain what we enjoy as a matter of course? Why don’t you try thinking over with that brain of yours that confuses curses for friends?” the blonde-haired sorcerer questioned, before swiftly dodging a nail that was thrown at her suddenly.

“Shut up. Do you think misfortune is a free pass to do anything? What, then? You’re satisfied with those who are blessed getting trash-talked behind their back? That’s how Saori-chan…,” Kugisaki questioned in a low and threatening tone as she began to reminisce about her childhood friend that was run out of her countryside town just because she was from the city.

“I can’t stand her, regardless of her upbringing and I love Maki-san, who endured the same upbringing. Have you all even bothered to think about what kind of person the idiot you’re trying to curse is?” Kugisaki asked once again, only to get a silent and annoyed expression as her answer. “What makes us obligated to meet such perfection or such absurd demands? Gojo...she doesn’t even strive for perfection as a special-grade sorcerer. Is your entire life just a job?!” the first-year yelled out before lifting her hand as she angrily activated her curse technique leading to multitudes of large explosions of cursed energy to surround the entire forest, forcing Nishimiya to fly around the area in a panic towards getting hit by any of the blasts.

Suddenly, as Nishimiya tried to, once again, stabilise herself on her broom, another nail was thrown causing it to land on a tree trunk only for a sudden foot to make its way on top of it as a stepping platform leading Kugisaki to jump up with full strength to reach up towards her opponent. However, it only led her to grab a few bristles of the flying divide.

“You might have brought me down, but you still won’t reach me!” Nishimiya declared as she released another gust of wind to push Kugisaki back down to the ground only for your classmate to land roughly on her feet as she took out one of her straw dolls from her school jacket.

“No, I reached you. This is plenty,” Kugisaki mentioned as she stuck one of the straw bristles on the doll as she continued with “I don’t give a damn about ‘men’ this and ‘women’ that! You can keep that shit to yourselves! I love myself when I’m pretty and all dressed up! And I love myself when I’m being strong!”

“I am... Kugisaki Nobara!” Kugisaki proudly declared before slamming her hammer down on her doll letting her cursed energy flow into her equipment, suddenly causing Nishimiya’s broom to malfunction as she began to drop.

‘If I hit here with my hammer, I might kill her,’ Kugisaki thought as she remembered what you told her leading her to smirk, yet she knew she couldn’t break the rules causing her to reach behind her back to reveal a red and yellow hammer that suddenly expanded to which lead the Kyoto sorcerer to identify it as a squeaky hammer only to be violently smacked with it across her face.

“One more time!” Kugisaki yelled out. However, before the hammer could even connect to Nishimiya’s face again, a sudden small but large impact was felt on her temple causing Kugisaki’s body to be flung over to the side leading Nishimiya to look surprised before facing forward as she wondered who was the person responsible for saving her.

ꕥ

“Hello? Momo?” Mai greeted as she placed her phone on her ear trying to communicate with her teammate. “Don’t worry, it was a rubber bullet,” she then reassured Nishimiya as she knew that the third-year already sympathised her and now she was worried that she might have killed someone during the Exchange Event.

“Most importantly, that light was Ultimate Cannon, right? But I can’t get in touch with Mechamaru. If he was cornered enough to use such a powerful technique, and now this, he most likely lost,” Mai informed her schoolmate as she was trying to relay information that she could assume since it was important to know the status of the Kyoto team right now.

“Panda will likely be returning, you should leave that spot and support everyone from the air. We’re all in trouble without you,” the Zenin member mentioned leading to the other person on the line to agree before she slowly uttered her name.

“It’s all right, Momo, I know,” Mai mentioned in a soft tone, trying to convey to her friend that it was alright before hanging up once Nishimiya got the message.

“What? Not going to call your friends?” someone yelled out as they stood on a branch, directly opposite to Mai at this current moment in time. “I don’t mind going two-on-one,” the second-year confidently stated with a smile on her face.

“There are many ways to enjoy this, right?” Mai asked before processing to stand up on her feet. “I could have everyone beat you together, but I’d like to enjoy you...by myself,” Mai declared as she raised her gun with a vexed expression displayed on her face as she faced her twin sister.

“Call me ‘Onee-chan,’ little sister,” Maki stated as she raised her katana.

However, before they could even start a fight another deafening explosion was heard causing them to turn in the direction to where it was heard, only to see a similar crescent-shaped wave of cursed energy flung into the air leading Mai to took at the scene with widening eyes as she slowly came to the realisation who was the cause of it.

“I think you should call Kamo and tell him to stop fighting with Gojo...it might lead him going to the hospital,” Maki mentioned before pushing herself forward to attack her sister.

‘If it’s you, then I wouldn’t mind at all Maki-san’

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horunicorn · 3 years

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Oya Oya

Hewwo :3 I have written much smut but this is my first time making it public. Sorry it came out so long. Feel free to point out any mistakes.

Warnings: choking, dominance

The fusuma slammed shut behind you, rattling the shōji across the room, after he'd pushed you rather roughly into his room at the Shinsengumi dorm. You were honestly surprised the kumiko didn't fall apart.

"What the hell, Y/N?"

You curled your lip up at him defiantly. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me," he warned, pacing to and fro in front of the door, clearly agitated. Then again, the man did have a short fuse. "Who gave you permission to hang with the Yorozuya bastard? Is that what you do behind my back?"

His accusation flipped your entire mood over. You were cheeky before; now you were pissed. What right did he have to point fingers at you? After all, he was the one who pushed you to do it. For three weeks, you had been patient while he worked. Of course, since he lived where he worked, it seemed like he was never free, always balancing his vice commander duties in and out of the headquarters. He did ask for your permission before going on cases, to make sure that you were okay with him doing overtime on certain days. And you always assured him that you would wait for him, no matter how busy some days could get. You always told him that it was okay to put his job first when he needed to. But that didn't mean he could take advantage of your understanding, did it?

The guy was smarter than most; he picked up on hints and cues effortlessly, especially if they were from you. So why had he been so oblivious to your subtle advances these past weeks?

"Who are you to tell me who I can or cannot be friends with?" you snapped back, temper flaring.

"You know very well who I am and what I can and cannot do," he answered, a little condescendingly.

"Yeah, well, you should also know that Gin-san gives me way more attention than you do," you uttered rashly. It was how you felt on the inside. After so many days of neglect by Hijikata, Gintoki's friendly affection towards you had you hooked in like fish to bait. Every smile and head smack he gave you fed your growing hunger for a man you couldn't get to and yet you still went on with it. You hung around Gintoki, longing for Hijikata, for something physical, just to take away the ache of missing the vice commander.

"What did you say?" Hijikata's tight voice betrayed the anger that was sparking inside him. The thought of you just being in Gintoki's presence was enough to provoke him. Confirmation that you let him touch you - nevermind if it was just playful shoves or shoulder bumping - flooded his vision with red. "You let him touch you?"

You scoffed at his ridiculous jealousy. "I'm not a slut. All Gin-san did was listen to me when I was alone. He kept me company."

True, you worked eight hours a day but the tiredness didn't mean that you didn't want to talk late into the night.

"Company, huh?" Hijikata crossed the room to stand in front of you so fast that you had to double check the spot he was previously at, just to be sure. He was a head taller than you. Now that he was all riled up, his presence was intimidating, especially since you had to look up to meet his eyes. "It just had to be him?"

You knew better. If you let him go on, you would have angry make up sex in seconds. This was a matter that needed talking through, not blind fucking. You pushed him away harshly, much to his surprise.

"We're not in a movie, Hijikata." Ah, using his family name when you were alone was never a good sign. "You can't just fuck me and be done with it."

A thought crossed your mind. Maybe it wasn't that he was busy. Maybe it was you who had done things wrongly. If you hadn't dropped all those stupid hints and just came straight forward with your needs, you needn't have had to feel the pain of ignorance from him. Your low self-esteem came racing back to you.

It was my fault. I didn't talk to him.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, turning away from him. Your sudden change in demeanor startled him but it wasn't something he hadn't experienced before.

Just like that, his anger melted away. He stepped towards you, pulling your reluctant form into his arms.

"You shouldn't have to apologize for anything," Hijikata sighed, one hand carefully cupping the back of your head. When his temper wasn't in the way, he saw things much clearer. "It was wrong of me to accuse you like that, especially since I know how much I've been neglecting you. I just didn't like the fact that of all the people to go to attention for, it was him." Hijikata said him with visible distaste. You relaxed against him, calmer now that he was no longer angry, that he had assured you it was not your fault.

"But I like him," you protested.

"Could you not like anyone else?"

"You hate everyone else, except the gorilla and he's infatuated with Otae-chan."

"Are you saying you'd go to Kondo-san if you could?" Hijikata teased, instantly lightening the atmosphere.

With that you ducked out of his embrace. "Please. I don't do stalkers." Hijikata was quick to catch you again though, this time from behind. He placed a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear.

"If you hadn't gotten caught today," he began, "I would have shown my appreciation for your patience in a different way."

"You have something planned?" you asked excitedly, happy that he had been thinking of you too.

"I did," he confirmed in the past tense. "But I can't get Yorozuya's stupid smug face out of my mind."

You knew all too well why. You knew that hanging out with Gintoki came with a punishment if you were caught. Before you could respond, Hijikata had a hand locked around your neck, with pressure not enough to choke but just enough that made swallowing difficult.

"Sometimes I think you let yourself get caught on purpose," he went on in a low voice, free hand travelling down your left arm and tugging it behind your back. He had you in a hold you didn't have any intention of breaking out of. Indeed, just the feeling of his hand on your throat had you weak at the knees, ready to be ruined by him.

"T - Tōshi," you managed, voice strangled by the hand on your windpipe. "Hard to... breathe."

"But you like this, don't you?" He purred. "You want to be choked like the little slut you are."

Oh, there was no denying how much his words were turning you on. Getting choked with his hand was good. Getting choked on his cock was better and you were more than eager for it.

"Choke... me with... your...cock..." Earlier misgivings forgotten, you wanted nothing more than for him to use you. It was all you had wanted since using Gintoki as a filler. His attention.

"Mm, I don't think so, baby girl," he murmured, finally releasing you from his hold only to take your hand and drag you down onto his futon. "I want to give, not take. And I expect thanks."

Translation: I will fuck you senseless and you will be vocal about it.

"Dont you think you can punish me better if - " Your question was cut short by a gasping inhale. Hijikata had somehow managed to loosen the knots of the date-jime that held your nagajuban and kimono together amidst everything and was now shamelessly pushing his fingers between your damp labia, hand disappearing in the folds of the cloth. Immediately, your hips moved up, asking for more when he'd barely begun. He murmured an amused "oya oya" upon finding the absence of underwear on you.

"I think you've been wetter than this, haven't you?" Deviously, Hijikata poked two fingers into your hole without any warning. There hadn't been much foreplay but could you really complain when you were swallowing his fingers like the greedy whore you were? He pulled his fingers out along with your arousal and spread it over your clit, rubbing in tantalizing circles, like a taunt.

"You're going to tease me," you stated, breathless already.

"Just for now," he promised, the sensitive nub slipping between his pointer finger and middle finger. Your nerve endings fired, sending thick coils of pleasure up your body. Again, your hips moved up.

Hijikata chose that moment to take his hands off of you. He sat back on his heels, hands placed perfectly on his lap. Disheveled and disgruntled, you forced your pleasure-weak body into motion, sitting up with your kimono loose around you, one side sliding down to bare a shoulder.

This was no dream: your body had flaws everywhere. Beauty marks on your skin, scars from being clumsy, skin that wasn't silky smooth or creamy white. You felt very small when you walked past some women on the streets but Hijikata always made you feel perfect. He loved every one of your imperfections, which encouraged you at times like these.

"Frustrated?" he smirked and you wondered just what he was playing at. Unbothered, you knee-walked closer, until you were parked right in front of him. Your hands grasped at the lapels of his uniform jacket. The familiar musk of cigarette smoke wafted up your nostrils, further turning you on. His gaze was hot on you; you could feel it despite not looking at him. Deliberate in your movements, you pushed the jacket off then proceeded to unbutton his vest and undo the knot of the white scarf around his neck. You were busy working on his shirt when he caught your hand, bringing it up to his mouth.

The contact of the softness of his lips against your skin made your thoughts fuzzy. His stare lingered on you and your restraint broke. You crashed your lips into his, claiming your pleasure, trying to pacify your desire for him. He indulged you, using a hand to hold your head steady. You kissed and kissed until there was no more breath to breathe between the both of you.

Hijikata pulled back first, dragging a thumb across your lower lip. It was such an intimate move, hinting at the lust he had for you; that was all it took for you to go into full 'I need you now' mode. Impatient, you shoved him back and shimmied up his body, brazenly rocking your hips, smearing your arousal onto his white shirt. Obviously, he felt your dampness through the material and gripped your hips to stop you from moving. The sight of you grinding above him was too much for his already tortured mind. Everything had to go. Now.

Soon you were balancing above him, the tip of his hard cock pressing at your slick entrance. You braced your hands on his broad chest, breath controlled as you slowly sat down on him, the length of him sliding into you inch by inch until your ass touched his lap. The sensation of him in you never failed to make you moan. His girth, his length, everything was just enough to fill up your tight hole.

"My sweet girl," Hijikata murmured, eyes half lidded. "I'd nearly forgotten how good you feel around me." He held onto your hips. "Move for me."

At his demand, you lifted yourself off and back down again, whimpering at the discomfort. Yeah, he was definitely big. Without your weekly routine, your body needed time to get used to him again. It didn't take long, though. Hijikata's soft encouragement and touch had you thirsting for more in no time. You got used to the stretch, gaining momentum and confidence as you moved. No longer did it sting; there was nothing but pleasure with the way you had him sliding in and out of you. Every time you rose left his cock slicker than before, layer upon layer of your arousal coating him.

When your legs got tired, you resorted to bouncing, biting your lip when your ass slapped against his skin in the sexiest way. Hijikata was in awe beneath you. His blue eyes were dark, lips parted in heavy breaths. First his eyes fixed on the way he was entering you, on the way your sweet pussy just swallowed his cock. His rough hands roved up your stomach, fingers dancing over your jumping breasts. That was the second thing he stared at. The soft mounds of flesh on your chest that bounced along with you made his cock twitch. Then he looked at your face. At the way you bit your lip, the pleasure in your expression. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to dominate you.

The feeling swept over him. Having you on top was incredible, especially since he knew you could control the depth and angle of his entrance. But he needed to have you his way. He couldn't yet explain why.

You cried out in surprise when he sat up abruptly, forcing you to remain still on his lap. You pressed your chest to his, feeling him move along with you, in you. The movement brought on a whole new sensation that made you scratch his chest with a low moan.

"Can he do that?" Hijikata asked, voice thick with lust. And something else. He knew now why he needed dominance over you.

"Who - What?" You couldn't register his words and the meaning behind them at first, not until he flipped you both over in a practiced move and he rolled his hips into you, hitting every unclaimed spot within you. Your legs came around his hips.

"Can that silver haired idiot do this? Make you feel this good?" He pulled back slightly, only to plunge back into you with a jolt that pushed another moan from your mouth.

"N - No. Tōshi..."

Hijikata pulled at your hips, angling your lower body upwards and began thrusting into you, going deep and hard each time. He knew very well that at this angle, each slide of his cock was sure to brush your g-spot. And each time his pelvis met yours, the head of his throbbing cock would carass the tip of your cervix, making you buck your hips even further up.

Seeing you this way only fuelled his unneeded jealousy for a rival that was hardly a threat.

"I bet he can't," he agreed gruffly. "He doesn't know your body, does he? Doesn't know how my baby girl likes it. Tell me." Hijikata drove deep, pushing his own hips up. You choked on a moan, hands tight around his wrists. "Who's making you feel good?"

You were unable to answer, eyes in danger of closing, body on the brink of orgasm. As if fucking him wasn't hot enough. No, jealous Hijikata was even better. His need to hear your verbal confirmation of just how good he could drill you was heightening the entire experience.

Hijikata wrapped a big hand around your throat, forcing you to meet his steely gaze.

"Who?" he demanded.

A lone tear rolled down your cheek and you knew once you opened your mouth, you'd be begging. "Y - You, Tōshi. You're making me feel good. Fucking my pussy so good."

He smirked in satisfaction. There was no need to hold back now. With demonic speed, probably living up to his title, Hijikata slammed into you, hips snapping back and forth furiously. He hadn't even gotten to rub your clit yet and you came undone, pulsing around his cock, sinful moans falling from your mouth along with his name.

"One more time," he urged, tempted to stop and savour the way you were contracting around him. Snug in your warm wetness. He was close. Too close to stop. He spit on your clit and rubbed it in tight circles, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. This was too much after the first and his name left you in screams, your body spasming, legs jerking. The sight of you being ruined by him did it. A few more thrusts and he fell on top of you, hugging your trembling body close as waves of pleasure crashed over him. He bit your shoulder, hard, enjoying the feeling of his seed leaving him and filling you. The others might not be at the sleeping quarters but you doubted that your screams hadn't reached the main block.

Once you both felt calm enough to move, Hijikata carefully extracted himself from you, using his scarf to wipe off any semen that came leaking out of you. You laid your head on his clammy chest.

"I'd never cheat," you said blatantly.

Hijikata pushed a hand through your messy hair, staring up at the ceiling. "I know. I just... wish I could have been there for you. I know it's not fair, having to always put up with my work."

"You're here now." You turned your head to smile up at him and he returned it with one of his own rare ones. The kind that took your breath away and reminded you of how different he could be around you. "Won't the others be looking for you?"

"Let them," he sighed. "I've been long overdue for a day off anyway." There was a brief pause, as though he were thinking things over. "Can I take you out?"

Your heart skipped a beat, delighted that you both could finally spend quality time together. Not that mindless fucking wasn't fun but normal couple stuff had to come in somewhere.

You smoothed your hand over the skin on his chest, loving how only you were allowed to touch him this way. "Yeah, you can."

#gintama #gintama smut #hijikata toushirou #hijikata x reader #smut #dominance #fanfic #gintama hijikata #shinsengumi #toshi x reader #hijikata #lemon #oneshot #gintama oneshots

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

The Akatsuki at Karaoke Night

Being a group of insatiable killers is hard work, even in the best of circumstances. Like anybody else, the Akatsuki is constantly seeking out ways to unwind and de-stress during their off time. One day Konan goes out and comes back excited; a local tavern hosts a karaoke night every week. The others are reluctant at first, but this quickly becomes one of their new favorites pastimes. Drinking, eating, singing; what could be more fun than that?

Deidara

Has to be really drunk to get up on stage and sing. Like, incredibly drunk. Like how-is-he-still-standing-drunk. When in this state, there’s one song that he’ll sing and one song only: “I’m A Barbie Girl.” Nobody in the Akatsuki knows why he chooses this particular song, but everyone has to admit that it suits him. He’ll take his hair out of his ponytail and have it cascading down his back, he’ll tie up his shirt in a front knot, and, if she’s wearing them, will borrow Konan’s heels to wear. And he’ll always try and drag Sasori on stage with him to sing the parts of Ken (C’mon, Danna! You’re literally like a doll, hm!), but Sasori will only comply if he’s in a really good mood/there’s not that many people around. Despite his intoxication he’ll actually sing beautifully, so much so that he’ll receive requests for encores; which he’ll do, until the booze catches up with him and he falls head-first off the stage and into someone’s (usually Tobi’s) lap. Won’t remember a thing the next day and feverishly insist that he’s never even heard of “some weird Barbie song”.

EDIT:: After days of this being on my mind I can also believe that Deidara would sing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood(?) and stare directly at Sasori the entire time even though they’re not really dating they‘re “in a situation” and even though if they WERE dating Sasori isn’t the cheating kind but he’s listening to the lyrics and noting how intensely Deidara is singing it and his face is just 😳

Sasori

He only goes because the others insist that he does. Honestly, this guy has a severe allergy to anything Fun. Chances are he’ll bring one of his puppets with him to work on/modify. He mostly refuses to get on stage and sing any songs of his own, BUT he’ll use his chakra strings to control his puppet and have it dance along on stage to a song of his choosing, that he has one of the other members sing for the puppet (giving them a taste of ventriloquism). The song he likes his performers to do most frequently is “Dancing With Myself” by Billy Joel; this must be his favorite song because he always silently mouths along to it as it plays. If literally nobody else is there besides the rest of the Akatsuki, he sometimes “makes” Deidara join him for a duet; he’s particularly fond of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John, although he and Deidara always fight over who sings the part of the girl.

Tobi

It’s dangerous to let Tobi sing in front of people. Not because he’s bad at it, but because ... he’s good. Startlingly good. His voice changes completely from a goofy childish timbre, to very deep, and smooth, and mellow. There are sea legends about sailors being lured to their deaths by the songs of sirens, and the same principle seems to be at work here. Waitresses will drop their trays, people walking will run face-first into each other, and the area around the stage will be packed with men and women alike trying to get as close as possible to him. The fact that he sounds like that but won’t make his mask off makes him even more mysterious and alluring. His song of choice? “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers; which brings tears (and swooning) to the eyes and minds of anyone who hears him. After the song it’s like someone flips a switch, and he goes back to the weirdo that the Akatsuki knows and tolerates, seemingly completely oblivious to the chaos his singing caused. He also enjoys having drinks with his Senpai, as the alcohol makes the blonde much more friendly towards Tobi than he usually is; however he can’t keep up with the amount of booze Deidara can put away, and he feels sleepy after just a few beers.

Hidan

As with most group outings, he’ll complain about thinking everything is stupid. His religion prohibits the consumption of alcohol, so he’ll occupy himself with eating lots of food and “lovingly” heckling his fellow Akatsuki members when they get up on stage. Once in a blue moon he can be persuaded to get up and sing himself, although again this is a complete rarity. He has no real music preferences and will usually just flip through the available choices until he finds something he knows the lyrics to. Tries to pick songs with a lot of swearing in it, which he won’t bother to bleep out and will instead scream out at the top of his lungs (which often results in the whole group being threatened with getting kicked out). Sometimes, though, when he’s in a more mellow state of mind ((a rarity for Hidan)) he’ll get the urge to do a duet (because that takes the pressure off of everyone staring only at him) and can convince Konan to go up with him. Their rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” always brings the room to its feet, and gets them thunderous applause. After the song Konan will blush and kiss his cheek, which Hidan pretends to act embarrassed about (but is secretly thrilled by). His favorite song to do solo, however, is “Sympathy For The Devil” by The Rolling Stones, which he ... really ... gets into.

Kakuzu

Mostly comes out with the others as a sort of chaperone; making sure they get home safe after drinking, and trying to prevent them from blowing all their money on the “outrageously priced” food and drinks. Karaoke isn’t really his thing, and neither is being on stage in front of people. However if he’s in a decent mood, and there aren’t that many people around, he can be persuaded to get up and sing. He sings the most amazing rendition of “Ain’t No Grave (Can Hold My Body Down)” by Johnny Cash; his deep gravelly voice and slow speaking pitch are absolutely perfect for it, giving everyone listening goosebumps. Kakuzu is also a skilled guitar player, and sometimes he will sit on stage and play the guitar bits of certain songs for other Akatsuki members singing, “But I’m taking my fees out of your next paycheck.”

Zetsu

Surprisingly, this is one activity that the plant-man enjoys engaging in with the others. He’s not much of an alcohol drinker, and “human” food isn’t really his thing, either; but he loves to hear the others do their best at singing. It takes a lot to get Zetsu up on the stage himself, but when he does, he’s a fairly decent singer. He’s able to change the pitch of his voice quite effortlessly, so that it intend sounds as if two people are singing, instead of one. His song of choice is a long one: “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. It takes a lot f stamina to get through this, but Zetsu always finds that half the time he can’t even hear his own voice with this one, as everyone in the place sings with him (because seriously, who alive doesn’t know this song?). But it’s not all fun and games; Zetsu will always be scoping out the crowd, discerning who the most intoxicated people are. He’ll lure these poor souls into the alley out back, and gave himself a tasty little snack. He tries his hardest not to let the others catch him doing this, though, as this is supposed to be a fun and stress-free night for all involved.

Konan and Pein

This whole thing was her idea, yet, unless it’s a duet with one of the others, she’s very reluctant to try and sing on her own. Thinks her voice is “nails on a chalkboard”, although everyone vehemently disagrees with this perspective. Never has to bring any money with her to the bar, because all of the boys will take turns buying her food and drinks. She goes crazy for fries of any kind, and can eat carloads of these alone. Konan is exceptionally beautiful, and she will be mercilessly hit on from the moment she walks in until they all leave. Well, not always — the boys ALSO like to take turns acting as Konan’s bodyguard, and protecting her from anyone who tries to come within three feet of her. They hide their more vicious tendencies for when Konan’s not paying attention, because they know she wants a relaxing evening, but still: there’s been quite a number of guys escorted out of the bar by Kisame and Hidan, that mysteriously never return. When persuaded to sing, almost anything she chooses will be an Amy Winehouse song, as this is her favorite artist. Her favorite song is “Wake Up Alone”, which moves her fellow teammates (Pein included) to tears. Joins Kakuzu as helper to make sure everyone gets home safe and sound. Pein doesn’t like singing, and does not want to sing ... but Konan always manages to convince him to be a good sport at some point in the evening. But the song he picks is disappointingly predictable: “Pain” by Three Days Grace. Expected, maybe ... but he puts real heart and soul into his rendition, nearly falling off the stage with his enthusiasm. As with all group outings, Nagato loves to experience everything through the Pein-body’s eyes, and spend time with this makeshift family of his.

Kisame

One of the biggest drinkers, but something (perhaps his half-animalness) makes it near impossible for him to be totally drunk, no matter how much alcohol he consumes. Sometimes he’ll make a deal with Kakuzu: Kakuzu will scope out other drunks in the place, inform Kisame of their whereabouts, and Kisame will hustle them for money in either drinking contests or pool games. He’ll split the money with the old guy, making both happy. When it comes to the karaoke aspect, Kisame doesn’t really like singing, or being in front of a crowd; but decides to be a good sport and do a song lIke the others. He can sing almost anything (he has a wide vocal range), but he really seems to favor love ballads. His favorite is November Rain by Guns n Roses, and the rest of the Akatsuki is shocked at how damn soulful he sounds singing it. If not singing or hustling drunks, he likes to spend some quiet time with Itachi, buying him snacks and coaxing the thin ((TOO thin, in Kisame’s opinion)) young man to eat.

Itachi

Is quiet and shy by nature, so naturally things like karaoke bars aren’t really his deal. But Kisame always insists that it’s good for him to get out ((out of the hideout and out of his head)) and socialize once in a while, so he goes. It’s the same deal as Konan, almost, where women flock to him and hit on him for nearly the entire duration of his visit. However, the group doesn’t act as a collective bodyguard for him, as the majority of them feel like he’d be better off, as Hidan delicately puts it, “If the fucker just got laid.” But Itachi doesn’t seem interested in anything like this; he’s polite to those who approach him, but so closed-off that eventually they give up. When one particularly persistent woman wouldn’t leave him alone, Itachi resorted to grabbing the person nearest him (who happened to be Deidara) and telling the admirer that he was his boyfriend. He even put his arm around the guy’s waist, squeezing him. Deidara went along with it, but after the woman left he angrily informed Itachi that he’d “blow your ass up if you ever try something like that again, hm!” That’s what he SAYS, but it should be noted that he blushes quite hard for some time afterwards. Itachi was only ever convicted to go up and sing one time, and it was a duet with Kisame. The song was “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie. At the end of the song, Kisame was beaming, and Itachi had more admirers than ever clamoring for his attention. Not used to late nights so if they’re out past midnight will usually fall asleep sitting at the bar, and be carried home (and put into bed) by Kisame.

#the akatsuki #karaoke #zetsu #deidara #sasori #hidan #kakuzu #pein #kisame #itachi #tobi #konan #headcanon #naruto shippuden

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egyptsblackrose · 3 years

Text

Dancing with Strangers

Ok here’s part 2 I guess, this is a bit longer than the first one, I was listening to the playlist again and kinda got into the zone. This chapter is where things get a little hotter but theres no sexy time still...I don’t know do you guys want that? Do you want more plot? I don’t know how long I wanna make this story guess I’ll leave it up to you guys so let me know what you think. Also the image included is one I drew digitally from a template found on Pinterest, if you repost or use it please give just mention me :)

Warnings: swearing in this one, very suggestive behaviour and language, nothing to spicy

Like to Part 1 here-https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/648370506842701824/dancing-with-strangers-ok-so-theres-a-playlist

Part 2-

You were grinning from ear to ear, a gentle happy buzz fizzing under your skin as you entered the heat of the club your friends insisted was the best in town. Been an exchange student in a very different country like Japan could have been a scary experience for anyone, but you had actually spend some of your young life living in Hiroshima and made life long friends, 2 of which were currently pulling on your hands to lead you to the bar as they laughed loudly. Japanese was your second language, one you adored and had kept practicing through the years, and when the chance came to study at the same uni as your best friends for your final year, you couldn’t buy the plane ticket fast enough!

“Y/N! What are you drinking?!” Miku shouted to you over the music, Sakura already flirting with the barman.

“Same as before, just a vodka and coke please Mi-Mi.” She nodded and turned to Sakura, yelling at her to order the drinks already. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head at your friends antics. They never seemed to change, no matter how many years passed.

Taking a look around the club, you was somewhat relieved that the crowd on the dance floor wasn’t too crazy. You could hold your liquor pretty well, hence why you weren’t as effected as the others in your group, and you didn’t want to loose people in the crowd.

A sudden shiver took over your body, heat stroking your skin like a touch, trailing over your form. Not so surprising, people were often surprised to see a foreigner in the clubs, so you brushed it off. Taking the drink Miku had bought you for her round, your group cheered and took a drink. As “Such a Whore” finished, you and your friends cheered as “Sexy chick” began, quickly finishing your drinks and heading to the dance floor.

———

Blue and black eyes roamed the foreign beauty with no attempt at hiding their interest. She was stunning; her lush hair shimmering in the flashing lights and flowing with every move she made, dressed in something skin tight and pretty to show off her curves but not too revealing and flashy, make-up made to look natural and only flatter her already pretty features. Her body rolled in controlled rhythms to match the beat, her feet shuffling. God she was a sight for sore eyes.

Her face lit up as she and the group surrounding her recognised the beginning of “Lights down low”. Then the real show began. It was like she rehearsed the dance before, singing along to the sinful words. Gojo licked his bottom lip slowly, his blue eyes glued to the way she threw her head back and grinned cheekily at no one. Kakashi couldn’t stop staring at how her hips snapped and thrust like she was acting out the song from both male and female perspectives, his hand tightening dangerously on the glass bottle now finished in his hand. Images of possibilities filled their minds.

“Damn,” Gojo sighed almost to himself.

Kakashi nodded in agreement anyway. “Please tell me you don’t want her for yourself.”

Gojo grin was devilish. “Now where’s the fun in that?” He chuckled, passing his brother another beer he’d just bought, sipping as the foreign beauty dancing like a damn belly dancer to “Culo”. “Do you wanna try make the first move this time?”

The other white haired male shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to risk loosing this one.” Gojo patted his back good natured lay. He was proud of how far his best friend had come in his confidence and prowess, but he knew he had a way to go yet.

“I know what you mean though pal, what a catch.” His blue eyes narrowed at some men clearly eye-fucking you. “I’m gonna make our play before one of those wolves takes a bite.” Kakashi levelled the group was a fierce glare of his own, nodding in approval. This was their hunting ground after all, others had to wait their turn and take the scraps.

Handing his half empty bottle to his still glaring friend, Gojo gracefully weaved through the crowd, gently easing past the many women trying to dance with him. He was determined, his goal set, eyes locked on you.

Your friends span you, making you laugh, but you paused for a second to grin as “Promiscuous” opened up. What you hadn’t expected was a very hot, very pleasant voice to gently sing the beginning “How you doing young lady,” into your ear.

Surprised, you turned only to pause as the most amazing blue eyes you’d ever seen pierced through your gaze and stared right at your soul. Your cheeks heated as the man grinned, pleased at your staring and continued his singing. Blinking to clear your mind from the surprise and shock that a damn MODEL was hitting on you, you began singing too.

“You expect me to just let you hit it, but will you still respect me if you get it.” Your tone held a warning in there somewhere, wether he picked up on it over the volume was another matter. The white haired beauty before you laughed cheerfully, smoothly taking your hand and spinning you to face away from him, before pulling you back so you were pressed up to him.

“I’m curious about you, you seem so innocent.” He teased, hands squeezing your hips. You didn’t even pause, singing the reply but focused more on moving your body to the beat, and into his. “Promiscuous girl, your teasing me. You know what I want, and I got what you need.” He growled in your ear, causing your spine and insides to shudder in delight. You tilted your head back and laughed, only hitting his chest. God this guys tall.

You dipped to the floor and brought yourself up elegantly against him, now facing the dazzling stranger with a teasing grin of your own. “I’m a big girl I can handle myself, but if I get lonely imma need your help. Pay attention to me, I don’t talk for my health.”

The male’s grin turned hungry, his large hands dragging up the side of your body from your hip, tracing your collarbone, before wrapping his hand around your throat. There was no pressure, he just rested his big hand there, engulfing your neck easily, making you look at him as he bit his lip. “The names Gojo Satoru, and you beautiful, can call me Sensei.”

“My names L/N Y/N, not beautiful, flattery only gets you so far...onii-san.” You smirked back as the song changed to “Where have you been”.

Gojo smiled genuinely, letting out a long hum of amusement. “Then let me start by buying you a drink beautiful, I left my brother all alone at the bar just to try talk to you.”

Laughing, you raised a brow. “Talk? Yeah right. I’m sorry but I’m out with my friends, and I don’t want to leave them, I’m the most sober one after all-”

“Of course she’ll have a drink!” Miku all but screamed excitedly. You turned to her with a frown, opening your mouth to refuse, but she grabbed your arm and whispered loudly in your ear. “He’s Gojo Satoru, and his friend is Kakashi Hatake! They’re like small time celebs around here, they’re both hot as fuck and close. Like REALLY close, they only ever take a girl home who they both want, they know what the fuck they're doing too and they’re policemen! Trust me, go with them and thank me later! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Miku all but pushed you into Gojo waiting arms, the male chuckling charmingly at the scene. You watched as your group of friends gave you thumbs up and shooed you away, Sakura and Miku blowing you kisses and winks. “What the?”

“So, what can I get you beautiful?” Gojo purred in your ear to distract you, his arm wrapping comfortably around your shoulders and leading you back to Kakashi who had ordered another drink, and was straightening out his shirt and hair out of nervousness. “Don’t worry, just one drink, anything you want and if your not having fun by the end of it, then I’ll escort you back to your friends myself.”

You bit your lip, about to glance back at your friends to check on them, when another handsome white haired male gently smiled at you, with stunning black eyes, an adorable beauty mark on his chin, a dangerous scar over one eye and a perfect jawline. “One drink wont hurt then, I guess.” You replied, almost shyly as you stood between both men, leaning against the bar.

One drink turned into four, and they were not drunk quick ether. You had lost track of time and songs playing as Gojo and Kakashi bantered easily, always keeping you involved and centre of attention. You were beyond grateful that you could hold your liqueur and hadn’t being going crazy like your friends, it made it easy to follow along with the conversation. You were quick to pitch in effortlessly with cheeky and teasing remarks that had the 2 men both in stitches with laughter, and enamoured with you all at once. Most women were happy to sit and giggle, focus on looking pretty and flirt with suggestive touching, not really focus on what they were saying. You were intelligent, modest and sweet with undertones of naughty delight. It excited both men more than anything had in a while.

When a more suggestive song came through the speakers, Gojo sent Kakashi a discrete look, both leading you to the dance floor after your drinks were finished. Once in their favourite spot, their stage was set to begin the best part of the hunt. This part was more than just seduction, this was about using the music, their words, bodies and heat to turn yours on to the max, until you couldn’t take it anymore. And their favourite spot held just enough cover and darkness to keep all sinful acts a secret.

You inhaled sharply as Gojo’s large hands spread over the front of your thighs, pulling firmly so your back and body were pressed into him, while Kakashi’s rough hands gripped your waist, one of his legs pressing between your own. The two moved in synch perfectly like a well oiled machine, Gojo rolling his body into yours as his feet shuffled. The roll forward would drive you into Kakashi, and more importantly your core onto his firm muscular thigh. The male in front of you would gently shuffle and thrust forward as well, the action meaning there was absolutely no space between you and their hot hard bodies. Their hands would guide and encourage your own dancing, focusing on your hips and slow movements that was driving them just as wild.

You felt like you were melting from the inside out, there was a craving for more deep within you, and it was burning hotter the more they teased. Fingers would lightly graze your breasts and a insincere “sorry” would be breathed into your ear through a smirk, lips would brush your neck, hands would squeeze and tighten their grips at random intervals, keeping you tense and senses focused on them and them alone.

Only when you were a dazed, panting mess did Gojo deem you wooed enough, and Kakashi insisted on getting you another drink. At some point, Gojo had picked you up by your hips as Kakashi had pulled up a bar stool for you, easing it under you. The action was so quick and effortless for both men you couldn’t help but blush, especially as Kakashi kept a hand gently resting on the small of your back, drawing soothing circles there. Gojo’s hand was rested on your thigh as well, like it was nothing, and smirked at you now not hanging to look up so much to meet their eyes.

You stuck your tongue out at him in response. “Careful beautiful, I might just take that tongue if you don’t watch out.” He growled hotly into your ear. Holy-

“I think she’d like that Sato.” Kakashi grinned, groaning the words into your ear. You’d noticed how he’d relaxed more and more as the night went on, becoming a little bolder with you when he saw you weren’t pushing him away or favouring Gojo. The touches were turning less and less innocent or ‘accidental’, and the way they looked at you... Gojo had no shame, staring hungrily at each and every curve, licking his lips hungrily as his hands would skim the line between teasing and inappropriate, working slowly to drive you crazy. His blue eyes drank in every hitch in breath, every shudder, his own patience thinning as he watched your perfect teeth graze your wet lips. Kakashi had a different approach, he wanted the eye contact, he want you to look into his eyes and see he wanted you. “She’s panting, poor thing.”

You hadn’t noticed how your chest was rising and falling rapidly, too busy trying to hide the fact of how turned on you were caught between these gorgeous men. “Your right brother, her thighs are clenching too. What images are forming in that naughty mind of yours beautiful? Care to share? We’d be happy to make them reality, wouldn’t we Hatake?”

The most sinful, hungry groan rumbled through your ear in response as Kakashi stood forward and shielded your body from view of everyone else in the club, sneakily easing a hand up your thigh. Up and up and- you gasped, the single finger making you jump and let out a whimper. “God yes, I want her to make more of those sounds Sato.

“I’ve already called a taxi.” Gojo said lowly, pushing his body into your side so you could feel every hard line and ridge of his toned form, and something poke your arse. “You ready to go beautiful?”

All you could do was nod, too afraid of how desperate you’d sound if you tried to speak. Downing the rest of your drinks, you squeaked as Kakashi eased you off the stool and immediately directed you towards the exit, Gojo leading the way to the taxi and opening the door for you, both always touching you as your legs wobbled and mind raced.

Part 3 - https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/648557120920354817/a-rose-by-any-other-name

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 6

Haha, I’m so excited for this chapter. Please let me know what y’all think! Also a huge thank you to everyone who has liked/commented/reblogged. You guys deserve all the love and cookies possible!

Warnings: swearing, fluff (i think that’s it, sorry if i miss something)

Words: 7300 (i feel like my chapters keep getting longer. oops?)

Tag List: @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls

Series Masterlist

The aroma of coffee surrounded Kari like a warm, comforting blanket. The café was just the perfect amount of busy, there were a few other tables occupied but without feeling cramped or overwhelming. The lunch rush was just beginning, indicated by the number of patrons standing in line to order now.

The brunette sipped on her latte as she slowly swiped through the pictures on Gyda's phone. The two were finally meeting up for an early lunch and coffee after a yoga class. Gyda had been gushing about the trip she just returned from to Phnom Penh, telling stories of the week she spent there and letting Kari slide through the pictures on her phone.

"These are just gorgeous. Gods, you have the best job, I swear."

Gyda laughed, picking at the muffin in front of her. "I know. I can't imagine doing anything else though."

"When do you leave again?"

"Mmmm…. I’m not sure yet. The company is wanting me to go to Vancouver, British Columbia next. I might wait until the end of September to go. I'm not sure. Either way, it won't be for at least a month. Depends on how soon I want to go visit mom."

"Why wouldn't you want to go soon?" Kari perked up at the mention of Gyda's mother. She knew the two were close, but all she really knew about Lagertha was from what Ivar told her.

"I'm not a fan of her new boyfriend. Sorry, she prefers the term "lover". Kalf works for her, specifically with contacts from their Mediterranean partners and overseeing some of the shipments."

"Why don't you like him?" She swiped to the next image, a stunning picture of the Cambodian royal palace.

The blonde waved her hand vaguely, as if swatting a fly. "He hasn't done anything; I just don't like him."

"That's fair. Does he treat your mom well?"

"Yeah. She just has shit luck with men and I'm worried how this one will turn out." She sipped on her coffee, gazing out the nearby window for a moment.

Kari turned back to the phone, guessing there was more that Gyda was not saying. Not that she needed to know. No, she had enough drama in her life currently and his name was Ivar.

Both women lounged in the wooden café chairs, still in their yoga clothes, having come straight from the studio. Except Gyda changed her footwear, losing the sandals for a pair of wedge heels that made her long legs look like skyscrapers. It was hard not to envy Gyda's body, and Torvi for that matter. They both had the perfect hourglass figure, with all the right assets and gorgeously braided, blonde hair. Maybe it was some standard that women around the Lothbroks had perfect bodies. It made Kari wonder why Ivar paid her any attention then. Her body was far from perfect. Her chest side was decent, but she always thought her hips and thighs were too large. Most likely leftover critiques from her mother who not-so-lovingly would say Kari was pear-shaped and needed to focus on losing all that extra or no man would want her. Not that she was trying to get a man. Over the past two years she had finally come to embrace her body and was learning to be comfortable in her own skin. Though some days were better than others. It was still difficult to watch Gyda receive appreciative looks from many of the patrons as they passed by their table and know none of them would even give her a second glance. The blonde was effortlessly beautiful. Perhaps there was a way for her to teach Kari that.

Suddenly Gyda zeroed in on the brunette with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Speaking about men…."

"Are you going on a date?"

Gyda snorted, with an amused grin on her face. "Hell no. I'm not interested in a relationship right now. I am perfectly fine being single. Stop changing the subject. There is a little something going around the Lothbrok rumor mill that Ivar took you on a date to Casa mia, Maggiore."

"Not a date, it was just as friends." Kari clarified.

She gave her an incredulous look. "Just friends?"

"Yes."

Gyda narrowed her eyes at her.

"What? We went out to Casa mia, Maggiore and then I convinced him to go to Masterpiece. After he dropped me back off at home. Nothing happened."

"Right…." Gyda hummed. "So, it was a date."

Kari dropped her face into her hands with a groan. "Not a date. Just friends."

"Whatever you say. Just know Ivar doesn't take just anyone to his favorite restaurant. Hell, I think he only took his ex there once in the ten months they were dating. He usually only goes with Aslaug."

"Oh? Um, I didn't know…" The brunette hated how she perked up at this new information. It should not matter hearing that he never took anyone, that it really was his favorite restaurant and he wanted to share it with her. In their texting, he made reference to when they went back, what food he wanted her to try next. Something apparently, he was not even inclined to do with an ex. No, none of that should matter. But it did, and the way her heart swelled at the realization only proved that to her.

"Clearly he really likes you to take you there. Do you like him?"

"Sure, he's a good friend."

Gyda sighed dramatically, tipping her head back. "You're killing me, Kari! Fine! When was this not-date? A week ago?"

"Eight days, yeah."

"Have you hung out since then?"

"Yeah, he picked me up once and we went out for dinner. Another time, he took me out on my lunch break. He had to go on a business trip so I haven't seen him in…. three days?"

"Right. I'm guessing he's blowing up your phone while he's been gone?"

Kari took a sip of her drink as she mumbled, "sort of." The truth was they were practically texting non-stop. It was mostly discussions, and arguments on his side, of superficial things like TV shows, the proper time to wake up in the morning and her lack of clothing that was more than yoga attire. Other times they sent memes back and forth or links to funny YouTube clips. Kari never realized how lonely she was before Ivar thrust himself into her life with all the force and subtlety of a rocket.

"What does that mean?" Gyda eyed her for a long moment before she gasped and slapped the table. "Oh shit! Is he sending you dick pics?"

Kari choked on air. After hacking for a couple of seconds, tears coming to her eyes because of the action, she vigorously shook her head. "No! No! Ewww....no! We keep sending stupid memes to each other and talking about where we should go out next. That's it. I promise."

The blonde laughed loudly at Kari's reaction, who fiddled with her earring, face burning with embarrassment. The two sat quietly for a couple of minutes, sipping their drinks and watching the line of lunch patrons increase.

"So…. it kind of sounds like you're dating."

"No, we're just friends. Why can't friends just hang out?" Kari tried to argue. The beginning tendrils of annoyance creeping in at constantly having to defend their friendship.

Gyda stared at her. "Have you made-out?"

A blush colored Kari's cheeks before she could figure out a good enough lie, giving away the truth.

"What?! How often?!" Her enthusiastic friend cried, before waving her hand once again. "Never mind. Listen, he's taking you out to his favorite restaurant. He is clearly going out of his way to spend time with you. He is texting you! You don't realize how big of a deal this is for him! He generally hates people. I'm positive he has murder plans for most of those he is forced to be around. Does he know you're just friends? Because to me, it doesn't sound like it."

Kari covered her face with her hands, tears of frustration springing to her eyes. Ivar and her could only be friends, that was what she promised herself. If he knew her, the real her…. it would never happen. He would never want her. So it was best to remain friends, to protect both of them from the inevitability that anything more would never happen. Even though their line of friendship was blurring…. and that was the worst part. She found herself wishing to continue to blur that line, even when she knew it would only end in disaster. Taking a deep breath, she could smell his cologne, a scent she had become so used to now. Her mind could easily conjure the feeling of being in his arms, his mouth on hers as she gave in under his touch. She cared for him, deep down she knew more than a friend. Although he could annoy her to no end, she enjoyed his presence, his humor, that vulnerable side that peeked out occasionally, how he made her feel safe and beautiful.

Now hearing Gyda pointedly telling her that Ivar was treating her as more than a friend. It left her speechless and wondering if she was making a mistake.

Gyda’s tone softened when she spoke next. "Why are you so set on just friends?"

"I just…. I don't want to date right now. After my last relationship, I just want to focus on myself."

"That's fair but listen, he isn't going to wait around for you forever."

"I know. I don't want him too." She admitted, tugging on her earring. Though her statement was the truth, it still tasted bitter on her tongue.

"Ok, but does he know that? It sounds like he’s set on you, but I'm going to warn you. Don't break his heart. He isn't the type to recover from heartbreak. His heart is already locked up more securely than Fort Knox but if you break it…."

"I promise, that isn't my intent. I just…. can't. I like him, more than I thought I would. He is funny and charming and sweet but also infuriating and demanding and I've had more fun with him than I've ever had with a guy friend before. He…. I can be myself around him and I think he can too. But I just…. It can't go further than friendship."

Gyda mulled over her words. "Alright. I don't fully understand but I get it. It's nice to hear that he's connecting with someone. None of us liked his ex. He only really spends time with family or Floki."

"I don't want to hurt him." Kari whispered.

"I know. You're too sweet to purposefully do something like that." The blonde tilted her head to the side with a slowly growing smug look. "I give it until the end of the year and you'll be naked in his bed."

"Gods! What? Why would you say that?"

"He's a Lothbrok. They always get what they want."

*****

Kari laid curled up on her full-size bed, her laptop up and watching Downton Abbey. A heating pad rested on her abdomen as she waited for the pain relievers to kick in. Most of her life she was happy with, but the one thing she would easily trade out would be the painful cramps when PMSing. The birth control she took helped out, but there was usually still one day that the dreaded cramps hit hard.

Her phone dinged. Languidly reaching over, she grabbed it from beside her pillow and opened it to check the text.

Ivar: wat r u doin?

He texted her earlier that day saying he was returning home from his sudden business trip.

Kari: nothing

Ivar: good. bts.

She groaned, slamming her face into her pillow. She did not have the energy to deal with him right now. All she wanted was to relax and eat her body weight in chocolate. After a moment of self-pity, she texted him back, hoping she could get out of whatever he had planned already.

Kari: no, I don't feel good.

Ivar: wat wrong?

Kari: nothing bad.

Sure, they had been talking daily for over a week but that did not mean she wanted to divulge her period issues to him. There were a few things she knew and one was that guys did not like talking about the menstrual cycle.

When he did not text back right away, she turned her attention back to her laptop and the TV show playing. Soon enough the magic of pain relievers and hot pads kicked in and her pain was minimal, though she had no intentions of leaving her warm cocoon. Alana was at her night class, so Kari was home alone. Not unusual really, but tonight she certainly felt the urge to lay around and do nothing.

After about twenty minutes, she heard a loud knock on her front door. Alana was not home, so it could not be any of her friends. Her neighbor, Erik, never just showed up. He always made sure to text before coming to her door. Maybe there was some kind of emergency? Or a package being dropped off? Though at this time it was certainly getting late for any kind of deliveries. Then it hit her.

Ivar.

"Ughhhh," she groaned, rolling out of her bed. For a split second she contemplated not answering it, just staying in her warm bed. She knew, though, if she did not get it, he would probably bust the door down. Maybe even set it on fire to make a point. He seemed like the type to light things on fire for fun.

As soon as she opened the front door, those intense blue eyes scanned over her body as if looking for some unseen disease. "What's wrong with you?" He barked at her, one hand still on the doorframe.

"What?" She blinked owlishly.

"You said you don't feel good." He gestured towards her, his gaze still searching. "What's wrong?"

"Um, it's nothing. Just cramps. It's better now."

"You sure? It's nothing worse?"

She was touched by his concern, the way his last questions were said in a breath of relief as if actually worried about her health. "Yeah, happens every month. I'm fine."

"Ok, good. Get changed, Hvitty and I are going to see a movie. I want you to come with us."

"Ivar, you should hang out with your brother…."

"I fucking live with him. He's fine with it. Go change."

She sighed, knowing by now there was no way she was making it back to her warm cocoon and Downton Abbey. Besides, she had missed him while he was gone and found herself wanting to spend time with him. Not that she wanted him to know that, it would only inflate his ego. "I'll only agree to come with you on two conditions."

"Fucking what?" He growled, though she could see the amusement in his eyes.

"First, I'm wearing my comfy clothes." She waved her hand at the pair of soft, black leggings she wore and the thin, slouchy sweater with the word 'beautiful' printed on it. "Second, and this is the most important condition, you have to buy me a stupid amount of chocolate."

He rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged on his lips. "If that's all, princess…."

"Oh, give me a minute. I'll think of something else… and it's not princess. It's m'lady."

"Shut up. Get your shit. I'll meet you at the car."

She laughed as she raced up to her room to grab her purse, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. The only addition was to throw on a zip up jacket that was a size too big on her. She always found movie theaters too cold to be fully comfortable without a jacket.

The vehicle waiting for her this time was a luxury SUV. She stopped for a moment in the driveway, unsure what to do. She wondered what the neighbors would think of her getting picked up in this and how many knew Lothbroks were sitting in it. Hopefully no one was paying attention. The one of the back doors opened so she headed that way. Ivar slid over and she followed him into the vehicle, closing the door behind her.

"Took you fucking long enough, m'lady."

She smirked at the nickname. "Well, you did just show up at my door and told me we were going to see a movie. At least the other times you gave me a heads up to be ready."

"Ivar, you said you text her we were coming." A man she had not noticed said. He sat across on the bench seat facing them, watching her curiously. It was now Kari noticed how both Ivar and the guy were dressed casually, both in jeans and t-shirts, though Ivar had a light jacket on also.

"She said she wasn't doing anything."

The flaxen-haired man sighed, before reaching his hand out. "Hi, I'm Hvitserk. This idiot's older brother."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Kari." She took his hand, but instead of shaking it like she expected, he turned it over and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. When he released it, he gave her a quick, flirty wink and leaned back in his seat.

Startled by his bold action, she looked at Ivar, unsure how to respond. What was with these Lothbroks and their unabashed flirting?

He had his eyes narrowed at his brother, teeth practically grinding. "Fucking touch her again." He snarled.

Hvitserk chuckled, a smug look on his boyish face. "Relax, brother. I know you don't share…. even if you're just friends." Either he was purposefully antagonizing his younger brother or did not notice the anger seething off of him.

Ivar started to lean forward but Kari wrapped her arms around his, pulling him into her. She was not about to watch a fight go down between the two. "Didn't you just get back from your trip? I thought you'd be home resting." She quickly asked, trying to distract.

After a long moment of the brothers staring at each other, Ivar with a glare and Hvitserk looking amused, the raven-haired brother leaned back. He turned his head to look at her as he answered. "You said you wanted to see me earlier, and going to see a movie isn't strenuous."

"Everything involving you is strenuous."

As soon as she muttered the words, she wished she could take them back.

A devilish grin spread across his face, those blue eyes dancing with something mischievous and forbidden. "I can show you strenuous." He shifted to hover over her, lips dangerously close to hers. "All. Night. Long." He whispered, one hand leaving a trail of fire as it slid from her thigh up to the curve of her breast. A shiver ran down her spine at the low, hungry tone and the naked want in his gaze. "You'll be begging for more of me…. to destroy that pussy and leave you completely undone and hoarse from screaming my name." His tongue flicked at her earlobe, a choked gasp leaving her mouth at the sensation. Her eyes fluttered shut on their own accord, the knot in her core tightening painfully. She both hated and loved what his touch did to her, how it gave her a taste of pleasure otherwise unknown. His nose traced her jawline as he spoke again, tone filthy, making her core ache. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, kattungen?"

She gulped, her voice coming out far more timid and needy than she wanted. "That's...um, that's nice."

Hvitserk's laughter broke the smoldering tension. Her blue-green eyes blinked rapidly as if wakening from a dream, darting to stare at the older brother before returning to the one who still lingered over her, his presence alone keeping her pinned to her seat.

"En dag, søte Kari, blir du min." Ivar whispered into her ear, then kissed her temple tenderly. After he leaned back, legs splayed out and arms across the back of the seat. A rapid conversation in that foreign language started, Hvitserk saying something that had Ivar snarking back and rolling his eyes.

The whole time, Kari focused on slowing down her breathing and trying to tamper down the warmth radiating from her core. There was no denying it, Ivar did something to her on a primal level. Her body wanted him. Even her mind wanted him. When he directed that sensual, seductive side at her, she melted like an ice cube in June. Her panties were testimony to that. Thankfully, he did not turn that powerful ability onto her frequently. She doubted they would remain 'just friends' for long if he did.

Suddenly, Ivar tugged on the sleeve of her fleece jacket, drawing her from her thoughts. "What is that?"

"Um… a jacket?"

He hummed then glanced over at his brother. "Sigurd had the same one, doesn't he, Hvitty?"

"I think so." Hvitserk ran a hand over his braids, a smile on his lips. "Didn't you set it on fire?"

Ivar waved off the question, still scrutinizing her jacket. "Whose is it?"

"Mine now." She replied, wondering what he was getting at.

"Whose was it?"

"A guy friend. He lent it to me years ago and I never gave it back."

"He's in England?"

"Yeah…"

He grunted, rubbing a hand over his mouth for a moment. "Take it off."

"Wha…. what?" She sputtered.

"Take it off. I don't want you wearing another guy's clothes."

"Ivar, this is stupid. Plus, I always get cold in movie theaters. That's why I brought it in the first place."

With a deep scowl, he tugged off his own gray, soft shell jacket. When he saw she was not moving, he tugged on her sleeve roughly. She huffed but gave in, not willing to fight him over something so childish. She slipped the fleece jacket off and placed it in her lap. Before she could stop him, Ivar snatched the jacket out of her lap and threw it on the seat to his other side. He dropped his jacket in her lap then leaned back, watching her with a serious expression. This was one of those times she wondered why she put up with him. Who cared where the origins of her clothes came from? It was comfy. Sure, it had some sentimental value but it was a nice, warm jacket.

Quickly, she slipped his gray jacket on…. and was immediately hit with his scent. A salacious side of her wondered if he would let her keep it. He always smelled incredible and having his jacket now wrapped around her, enveloping her in that…. her libido definitely woke up, begging for attention. Especially after the tease he just bestowed upon her.

"Happy?" She asked flippantly, smoothing the gray jacket down over her and trying not to be obvious with her sniffing it.

He grinned. "You look better in my clothes."

"Ugh. Is he always like this?" She turned to Hvitserk.

"I wouldn't know. He's never asked me to take my clothes off. But if you did, I'd happily oblige." He playfully winked at her.

She groaned. "You both are unbelievable. No wonder you're brothers." She looked at Ivar beside her. "Can I have my jacket back?"

He raised a single eyebrow as if surprised by her question. After a second of mutual staring, he slid over and opened the window, maintaining pointed eye contact the whole time. Before she could process what he was going to do, he balled up her jacket and threw it out the open window. Without a word, he rolled the window back up and slid over to her side again.

"What jacket?" He questioned impishly.

She stared open-mouthed at him. "Was…. was that really necessary? Gods! Why did you do that?"

"I don't want you wearing another guy's clothes." He shrugged. "If it's that big of a problem, I'll buy you some new clothes."

"That's not…. that's not the point! You can't just get rid of something of mine without my permission!"

"But it wasn't yours, it was some guy friend's."

She covered my face with her hands. Why should she expect anything different from Ivar? He had a vendetta against her clothes. With a sigh, she scooted away from him. "I feel like we need to make a list of things that are not ok for you to do."

"I'm not following some fucking list."

"Alright, I'll stop wearing clothes that belong to someone else if you promise not to throw away my clothes without my permission."

He yanked on her arm until she was at his side again, despite her half-hearted attempt for space. "You can wear my clothes anytime, especially if I can take them off of you."

"Ivar, I'm serious."

He nuzzled the crook of her neck, making her squirm. Sweetly, he pressed a kiss to her neck before leaning back. "Fine." He muttered, tucking her into his side.

She glanced over at Hvitserk, having momentarily forgotten his presence. A broad smile covered his face, highlighting his handsome features.

"I like her." He declared, meeting his brother's eye with a nod. Next he looked at her, cocking his head to the side. "What are you doing with his sorry ass?"

That earned a low growl from the youngest Lothbrok, causing Kari to jump faintly and Hvitserk's smile to grow.

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice. He showed up at my work the first time." She answered honestly, though she mostly did it to tease Ivar.

Hvitserk threw his head back with a groan before narrowing his eyes at his brother. "I told you not to stalk her!"

"What the fuck is this? Gang up on Ivar day? She wouldn't have gone out with me otherwise and afterward she said she had fun, so it's not a big deal."

Hvitserk's brown eyes met her blue-green ones with true sympathy in them. "I'm sorry, Kari. I would say he isn't normally like this but I'm guessing you know that's a damn lie by now."

She giggled, "Yeah, I do. Thank you though."

"You know, we could always ditch him and go to the movie just us."

"Oh yeah?" She tapped her chin, pretending to think the offer over. "That sounds like fun. Ivar did promise to buy me a stupid amount of chocolate though. It'd be a hard sell to pass that offer up."

"I'm sure I can come up with something." He wiggled his blond eyebrows, smiling again.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you."

Kari laughed at the look on Ivar's face. Peering up at him, she changed the subject. "What movie are we seeing?"

"Ask your new friend over there."

"Come on, Ivy. You know we're just fucking with you." Hvitserk sighed.

Ivar grumbled, looking out the window and ignoring both of them.

Hvitserk answered her question. "That new horror movie."

"Oh ok." She hoped she sounded confident but kind of wished she had known before coming. Horror movies were not her thing. As a child, she had watched 'IT' at a sleepover and decided then that purposefully being scared was something she could do without. Though knowing Ivar, he would have laughed and pushed her out the door, saying something about how she needed to watch better shit than she normally did. Maybe this one would be more action-based than real horror. She could only hope.

Thankfully, they pulled up at the movie theater soon after. The driver dropped the three off at the door, driving off after to go park and wait.

"Ivar, hold on." She tugged on his arm, forcing him to slow his steps instead of walking ahead of the other two. "Give us a minute, Hvitserk."

The blond brother gave her a quick nod. "I'll go buy some snacks."

After he walked away, she tried to meet Ivar's gaze, though he pointedly stared over her shoulder. "Hey, we're just teasing. I'm sorry if we pushed it too far. I'm really happy you asked me to come out with you and your brother. It's been years since I've gone out to the movies."

He remained stubbornly sullen, continuing to stare just over her shoulder as if her presence was a nuisance.

With a sigh, she shifted closer, taking the initiative to wrap her arms loosely around his waist. Something she had noticed during the times they had hung out was he liked touching her, not always sexually, but just casual, intimate touches. A stray thought of him being touch-starved crossed her mind.

"I also really like your jacket, it's soft and it smells like you." She softly said, peeking up at him, suddenly nervous about her forwardness.

"Yeah?" He breathed out, placing his arms around her and tugging her closer. In just that movement, she could feel the hostility drain out of him, the hard tension in his muscles easing away into a softness she was beginning to doubt many people were allowed to see.

"Since you threw my other one away, can I keep this one?" She teased, lips curling up at the edges. If he said no, she was inclined to steal it anyway. For emotional damages, of course, not because it smelled good.

"Fuck, yes, kitten." He nuzzled her neck, making her squirm in his arms and giggle at the sensation. After a moment, still chuckling, he kissed her neck then laid his forehead against hers. When he spoke, it was with a quiet hint of vulnerability, his voice just above a murmur. "You really are happy to be out with me?"

"I am." She confirmed with eyes closed, soaking in the heat from his body against hers. This moment felt so strangely intimate that she struggled between prolonging it or tearing herself away. It was in these touches, she found her resolve wavering, a longing rising within her to give in. His arms around her, just holding her, their foreheads pressed together as if grounding one another. It was euphoric and dangerous.

He broke the silence between them, tone muffled as if regretting speaking up. "We should go in; the movie is going to start soon."

"Ok. Hvitserk will probably come looking for us if we don't."

"Ah, fuck. He will."

They untangled, but as she moved to step away, he snaked his arm around her waist, tugging her next to him. When she glanced up at him, he only looked down at her in wide-eyed, mock innocence. She rolled her eyes but giggled. He was like a puppy afraid to let go of his new toy.

As they started towards the doors, she finally paid more attention to his gait. Each step was stiff but powerful. One more than one occasion she ogled him and his swagger that seemed to scream predator, a dark and deadly thing meanwhile also being so enticing. She wondered how he managed so well without his cane but decided not to bring it up.

Once they passed through the door, Ivar slowed down, pulling his phone from his pocket.

"Shit. I've got to take this. Go wait with Hvitty. Oh, here." He pulled out his wallet and handed her his credit card. "Go buy all that chocolate I promised you and drinks for us."

Normally she would protest, saying she could buy her own stuff. This time she had full intentions of spending his money on chocolate. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Are you on the menu?"

"Gods, unbelievable!" She laughed though, watching him smile genuinely. After an arrogant wink, he stepped away, bringing his phone to his ear and speaking rapidly in a foreign language. She scurried over to Hvitserk, who stood near the confessions counter.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah," she glanced over her shoulder at Ivar quickly, "he just got a phone call he said he had to take."

Hvitserk hummed, watching Ivar across the lobby with a peculiar expression.

While they waited, she ordered her snacks and the drinks for both of them. Though her doubts rapidly spun out of control as she realized she did not know what Ivar would like or want. With a pleading look thrown at him, Hvitserk gave in with a chuckle. Together they picked out snacks and drinks that would have the youngest Lothbrok's approval. Once done, they gathered their stuff and moved over to an open, standing table to continue waiting.

"While Ivar is busy, I wanted to talk to you."

"Ah, sure." She felt a tendril of dread grow in her belly. Nothing good ever came out of a conversation with such an inauspicious beginning.

"I know Ivar can be a lot, closer to fucking insane, and not many people can tolerate him." He looked down at her with brown eyes that seemed to see more than they let on. "But you're good for him. You don't take his bullshit. Fuck, he even listens to you. I could count on one hand how many people Ivar actually listens to. What makes you different?"

"I don't know. I'm just…. I don't know." She stared down at her chipped, teal fingernails, unable to meet his eyes now.

"Well whatever you are, we've already noticed a difference since you two started talking. He's not as angry, he doesn't just hole up in his room as often."

"That's good."

"Mmmm…. Ivar is my brother and I love him. But I also know his temper can get the better of him and when he is on a rampage, nothing can fucking stop him. He is easily jealous and possessive of things he deems his own…. and he clearly had staked a claim on you."

"But…. we're just friends."

"Not to him." He huffed, running a hand over his braids. After checking to make sure his brother was still on the phone, he continued, lowering his voice even more. "You seem like a nice girl so I'll only say this once. Be careful of what promises you make to him…. and if he ever does something to harm you or scare you, I want you to call me. I'll do what I can to protect you. Alright?"

She nodded, unnerved by his warning. Sure, she knew about the Lothbrok reputation. Yet this was the first time someone point blank warned her with true understanding. She was unsure if she should appreciate the warning or be terrified that he thought Ivar could hurt her.

"Give me your phone."

Silently, she handed it over. He plugged his number in and called himself. With a satisfied nod, he gave it back to her.

"Good, don't ever hesitate to call me. Besides, if my brother has his way, none of us would ever meet you. My other brothers want to meet the girl who has Ivar wrapped around her finger already." He winked at her, making her blush.

"Hvitty, stop flirting with her!"

The flaxen-haired brother grinned, as he watched his brother approach. "I'm not. Just telling her the others want to meet her."

"Fuck no." Ivar growled, coming to stand between the two.

"I'd love to meet your brothers." She commented lightly. "After hearing you talk about them, it'd be nice."

"Awww, Ivy, you talk about us?" Hvitserk teased, nudged his shoulder with his own.

"Not you, asshole."

Hvitserk laughed, pressing his forehead swiftly to Ivar's. "Come on, the movie has probably started."

Ivar and Kari followed behind Hvitserk, as he led them to the correct auditorium. Along the way, she handed Ivar a couple of the boxes of candy she bought and the drink picked out for him.

"How much fucking candy did you buy?" He grumbled, eyeing the boxes suspiciously.

"Enough. If you ask nicely, I might share." She quipped. "I even bought Heksehyl for both of us. Hvitserk said it's your favorite…. and I also got Dumle. Oh, and Guld Barre!"

"I did promise you chocolate."

She giggled. "Yes, you did."

The three of them found the auditorium and took seats off to the side. Ivar sat in the middle with Kari on his right and Hvitserk on his left. The movie had just started as they sat down, the lights and noise minimal. Though apprehensive about the movie, Kari found herself smiling at just the nostalgic feeling being here evoked. There was something so simple yet profound at being with friends, eating sweets and watching the silver screen. Let alone the darkness of the theater and the nearby munching of popcorn by others and the occasion sound of people talking. She missed this. So, she endowed to enjoy every part of this. Quietly eating her chocolates, she kept her gaze on the screen.

After some time, Kari felt a large hand on her upper thigh, inching slowly higher and higher. Jolting at the sudden feeling, she grabbed it, trying to stop its further ascent. Immediately, Ivar flipped his hand over and entwined their fingers. She tried to half-heartedly tug out of it, but he maintained a vice-like grip on her hand. In an attempt to glare at him, she swiveled in her seat to gain his attention. Only for him to remain solely focused on the screen. Rolling her eyes, she gave in, shifting back to continue watching the movie. Their fingers remained entangled.

Eventually, the chocolate lay forgotten in her lap as the images on the screen became more disturbing and graphic. A few chuckles came from Ivar and Hvitserk and whispered comments made between them. Once someone in the theater screamed as a person on the screen was suddenly killed. The abrupt sound made Kari jump, squeezing Ivar's hand. He laughed, but squeezed her hand back. Not long after, she gave up on watching the movie and just tucked her face against his shoulder. Horror movies were never her thing, the idea of purposefully being scared never appealed to her. And this movie had a thing for people being eaten alive. Not something she wanted imprinted into her brain. The thought crossed her mind that Ivar orchestrated this on purpose, since he seemed to be fully enjoying her cuddling into him. As if without concern, his head lay on top of hers, continuing to hold her hand. If she was not so concerned about having nightmares and trying to block out the hair-raising screams, she might have liked the cuddling. In this instance though, if he moved, she was going to punch him.

Once the movie ended, Ivar and Hvitserk argued about the movie- how some of the people should have died or about the graphics of the terrifying creatures. They both became more and more animated as the three of them walked out of the movie theater and towards the waiting SUV.

"What did you think, Kari?" Hvitserk asked, taking his seat across from the others, once they all piled in.

"She was scared." Ivar answered, leaning back, his arm on the back of the seat and behind her.

"That creature was eating that girl's brain while she was still alive! I did not want to see that! I'm going to have nightmares."

Smirking, Ivar tilted closer, invading her personal space. "Want me to stay with you? I'll keep you safe…. and make sure you dream of other more, pleasurable, things."

"No, you'd probably try to scare me on purpose." She accused, pushing his body away from her with a pout.

"Well, thanks for seeing it with us." Hvitserk spoke up. "Gods, Bjorn would love it. We'll have to tell him."

The youngest brother nodded before turning back to the brunette by his side. "You coming out with us for drinks now? We always get drinks after."

"No, I can't. I have to open tomorrow. I need to sleep."

"Come on, it'll be fine."

"No. I'll be getting up at 5:30. That's in like…. six hours." This was one thing she was not going to give into. He had dragged her from her bed already once tonight. He was not about to make her lose out on anymore sleep. Not everyone was able to sleep all morning like certain people.

"Next time," Hvitserk said with a shrug, a grin on his face as if amused by the interaction across from him. "I'm sure we can all go out again soon. Right, Ivy?"

Ivar snorted, "Fine. We'll drop you off."

A discussion about the movie and comparing it to others swiftly captured the two brothers' attention. Finding herself growing tired, Kari just leaned back and listened, her head resting on the back of the seat, and consequently, Ivar's arm. It was different and refreshing seeing him interact with someone he clearly trusted and cared about. His guard was down and even if some of his comments sounded more like sharp barbs, it was said without true malice. The flaxen-haired brother took each verbal jab like water off a duck's back, either making a joke out of the comment or ignoring it. Throughout the interaction, the care and respect for one another was evident, even if on the surface level it appeared dysfunctional. A smile hinted on her lips as she listened to the brothers. She hoped this was not the last time she spent time with Hvitserk. Though his warning still rang in the back of her mind, she liked him. The whole ride back, Ivar kept his arm behind her, sporadically playing with the ends of her hair.

At their arrival to her townhouse, Hvitserk said his goodbye to her in the vehicle, surprising her with a swift hug and peck on the cheek. Her face must have been quite flushed if his laughter after meant anything. Ivar grumbled something at his brother in their foreign language as he pulled her out of the SUV. To her further surprise, Ivar walked her to her front door instead of staying with his brother.

"Thanks for inviting me out." She said honestly, once they reached the door.

"Next time we'll watch something you enjoy."

Before she could second guess herself, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him. Instantly, his arms went around her, pulling her closer. While the hug at the movie theater was sweet and intimate, this hug carried a different tone. It was more urgent and passionate. Her face rested on his collarbone, allowing his scent to envelope her. He laid a soft kiss to the top of her head, resting his chin there after. For a split second, she realized she never wanted to leave this moment. To be safe and warm and comforted and wanted. It was all she had ever hoped for. This was dangerous water they treaded in. With each intimate action, she could feel their friendship sailing closer and closer to the waters of something more. The gentle, easy waters of friendship would not be enough to maintain them.

With that thought in mind, she regretfully pulled back. "Goodnight." She murmured.

"God natt, kattunge."

"One of these days, you have to tell me what you're saying."

A devious smirk grew on his lips. "No, I think I like you being in suspense."

She laughed, shaking her head. They both hesitated to move, the air tense with something, as if both were waiting for the other to say or do something.

"Ok, bye." She finally said, opening her front door.

He nodded, taking a step back without removing his heated gaze off of her.

Shuddering at the feeling of his smoldering gaze, she let herself into the townhouse and made sure to lock the door behind her. Releasing a deep breath, she leaned her back against the door. What was it about him that tempted her so? He was bad news for her. Yet the more time she spent with him, the more she craved being with him.

Glancing down, she stared at his soft, gray jacket she still wore and wondered how symbolic this unintended action was.

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whenimaunicorn · 4 years

Text

Playing House - Part 8

In which we find out what Ivar’s “long night” entails... the warnings list also spoils the surprises, but do read it if you need to. This part is over 5k words, and the next post will finish the scene with almost 5k more. Ivar takes his time!!!

Warnings for: D/s dynamics including in-scene negotiation (always talk BEFORE you play folks) bondage with ropes, fear play, knife play. if you’re not ok with those last two, you can stop reading when that part of the scene begins and skip right to the next chapter. I’ve separated the sections at just the right spot so that you won’t miss anything else.

Many thanks and credits to @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen for this GORGEOUS moodboard!!!!

Catch up: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Ivar’s room is warmer than the kitchen. Which is good, because your body has already started entering that keyed-up state that makes you shiver and tremble.

You’re ready for a night of heavy play, really you are, but as you watch Ivar settle onto his bed, setting his crutches to the side, you’re hit by a burst of softer, warmer feelings too. Ivar Lothbrok has always been a closed book. Controlled, distant, keeping everyone at arm’s reach with his sarcasm and wit even as these exact traits draw you to him like a moth to a flame. But now, he’s finally letting you in. Even if it is only a little bit at a time.

He’s been so attentive to your desires. He’s created the most amazing scenes, the most tantalizing games, to set your body and soul on fire in ways you had thought were only ever going to happen in your fantasies. And yet, is he getting what he wants? You still haven’t seen him come. He’s never even let you try. You’d hardly noticed that at first, given all the wild new experiences he’s been putting you through, but at this moment you are almost overwhelmed by your need to give something back to him now.

You approach him softly. You would kneel at his feet but then you couldn’t embrace him like you want. So you leave the games behind and sit down at his side, take his hand between your own.

His gaze is locked onto yours. Watching indulgently, waiting to see what you’ll do. Maybe he doesn’t always need to be in charge. Although there’s a weight behind those eyes as he lets you massage his hand softly, as you lay kisses on each of his knuckles, that makes you feel like all the control is still his. What’s that term that horseback riders use? Letting you have your head. His grip on the reins is loose, but they are still in his hands.

You want to show him your gratitude. That’s what this moment feels like, this almost-intolerably warm bubble that’s bursting up behind your chest. You’ve lost track of how many shimmering, mind-blowing orgasms you’ve had since this game began, and Ivar has not even once asked you to pleasure him. You have to give him that now. It’s not even guilt, it’s a craving. An imperative coming from the deepest part of yourself.

You lean in to kiss him on the lips. Still he watches, tipping his chin far enough to receive your affections, not moving enough to influence what you’re going to do next. Your lips travel to his cheekbone, his temple, his jawline. There is a part of you that can still hardly believe you are allowed to touch this perfect, angel’s face.

When your lips pluck at his again he opens to you, and when he kisses back he can’t help but do it his way, sucking at your bottom lip, meeting your tongue with his own. His hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers carding through your hair.

You lean into his body, letting your hands travel over his shoulders and chest, slipping under his arms to embrace the broad expanse of his back. You still can’t shake the feeling that you’re getting away with something, somehow, just by touching him this freely. It’s not that he’s reluctant, he’s just . . . still. Allowing himself to be caressed.

He pulls you in tighter, responding with more life the longer you two keep making out. You were almost worried you were doing something wrong, or maybe he was bored by something as simple as kissing, but now his body is writhing along with yours and you’re falling together into the sheets.

His fingers trace over your skin. The scalloped edging of the garter belt’s lace, overlapping the row of thin ribbons that form the side straps of your panties, give him plenty of textural interest to play with while you slip your hands up under his shirt.

His skin is smooth and warm, his abs springing up into your hand as he lifts his upper body high enough to pull his shirt over his head. Several locks of hair cascade down around his face in the shirt’s wake; you reach up to play with them immediately.

“Will you let your hair down?” you ask shyly. For months you’ve dreamed of what it would feel like to run your fingers along his scalp, through his long, thick hair.

He thinks about it, smiles, and tugs the elastic out of his little bun. The dark, silky strands slide between your fingers, and Ivar closes his eyes in bliss as you scratch softly along his scalp.

He finally seems to be relaxing. With your hands wrapped around his head you kiss him again, and he responds eagerly, his fingertips dancing along your ribs.

You want to be his good girl. You want to make him feel even better. Without breaking the kiss, you run your hand down over his tattooed pecs, skimming along his abs and sliding your fingertips just beneath his belt. Dipping under just a little, in a slow side-to-side; not so much teasing as asking permission. Your mouth goes dry just thinking about getting your hands on Ivar’s cock.

His abs tense. He’s pulling away. Oh no, a voice in your head says. What did you do wrong.

“Don’t you want to know what I’ve planned for tonight?” There’s mischief in his eyes.

You roll your body against him. “What if I have plans, too?”

Something drops out behind his smile. That’s not what he wanted to hear you say. Still, his smile is indulgent. “Do you.”

You’re committed. You run your hand down his belly, the direction of travel obvious. “I want to make you feel . . . as good as you’ve been making me.”

Ivar leans in, smirking. “It’s a good plan.” He nips at your lip. “Mine’s better.”

And just like that, he’s rolling away from you, reaching down to tug something out from under the bed.

“Are you very familiar with shibari?”

You sit up beside him. Ivar hauls a duffle bag up onto the bed, filled with neat coils of rope. They’re in several colors: black, teal, natural hemp brown. Ivar lifts two braided twists of brilliant crimson. You reach out to touch one; it’s as smooth and silky as it looks. “I’ve seen it. Never got to experience.”

Ivar taps one bundle of rope against your hip. “Would you like to try?”

The pictures you’ve seen online mostly feature blissed-out looking women bound elaborately from head to toe, wrapped in knots and open twisting weaves that turn their bodies into works of savagely sexual art. You look at the scarlet rope in Ivar’s hands, imagine it embracing your curves, binding and supporting your limbs, serving your body up to him while taking away all of your control. You find yourself nodding, vigorously.

Ivar is nodding too, his smile thick and broad.

“I’m not sure if I’m flexible enough.” You’re thinking of some of the contortions you’ve seen the models pulling off, seemingly effortlessly.

He shakes his head, bemused. “We will start with something simple. And comfortable.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Sit up here, at the edge of the bed.” He unfurls a length of rope, holding it doubled in his hand. The first loop goes over your head, loosely. “Stand in front of me,” he orders softly.

His fingers brush down the center of your body as he straightens and smooths the two cords descending from the knot at the center of your chest.

“Your job, aside from following my directions, is to tell me immediately if any part of this does not feel completely comfortable. Do you understand?”

You nod, but he waits for you to give a full vocal answer. “Yes.”

He ties a knot into the doubled rope, about a hand’s-length below the first. Unintentionally, his knuckles brush against the bottoms of your breasts. “Something that feels a little bit too tight at first can become a major problem as time goes on. So you must tell me right away if any wrap is too tight.”

“Ok.”

Another knot, even with your belly. The small, accidental touches that come with his work are maddeningly tantalizing. Probably because you’re not used to standing in full lingerie in front of a guy while he concentrates on something other than tearing you apart. Ivar’s ability to delay his gratification is truly legendary. “I don’t plan on putting you in any stressful positions tonight. But if any part of your body starts tingling or going numb, I also need to know that as soon as you even think you feel it.”

“I understand.”

His knuckles brush the fronts of your thighs as he creates the next knot. Then he reaches up to trace the scalloped black edge of your bra. “We can do this naked next time,” he suggests, “but since you have never done this before, I want us to see how you react while you feel less…exposed. It can be surprisingly intense to have your whole body bound.” He presses the rest of the rope between your legs, reaching around to pull the whole length of it through to the other side. You step your legs a little further apart to let him work, enjoying the feel of the smooth hemp dragging softly across your inner thighs. “Which is what I would like to do, if this first section feels alright.”

You nod.

“Turn around.”

You’re disappointed not to be able to keep looking at Ivar’s face, but at the same time it’s freeing to be unobserved for a time, free to go inward and just feel everything about this strange and exciting new experience. He’s pulling the long ends of the rope up through the loop behind your neck now. Stopping before it gets tight, he coaxes you to step back closer to him. You feel his breath on your shoulder as he reaches around to check the level of the first knot he placed against your upper chest.

You start to realize what he’s creating with this rope when one strand comes around either side, under your arms, and loops through the ropes hanging between each knot, separating them out to form a diamond shape. It’s that lovely interlocking pattern you’ve seen in pictures before, wrapping the body in a net-like harness.

The first pass tightens the cords above your breasts, the second below.

“Breathe for me.” Ivar takes a deep inhale behind you, demonstrating what he wants. “Too tight?”

You are certainly aware of the ropes around your ribcage, and while they constrict just a little when you take a deep breath, it’s not restrictive, or scary. “No. It’s still easy to breathe.”

“Good.”

The pattern continues around your waist, taking all the slack out of the line so that by the time he has opened up the diamond beneath your navel, the rope between your legs is cinching against your vulva. You shift on your feet a little, testing the angles your movement can get on the tantalizing pressure there.

Ivar’s fingers follow the rope down, checking exactly what you’re doing. His chuckle is dark, and your breath catches at the pleasure of even the edges of his fingers sliding across your labia, through the panties. “I have heard that a knot can be placed in the rope down here, too. An experienced Dom can determine just the right spot.”

‘H-have you done this a lot?”

Ivar makes a musing noise. “Here and there. It is not always easy to find someone to practice on. I like to think that I have mastered the basics.”

You make an appreciative noise, rolling your body against the ropes that now beautifully and snugly encase you from chest to hips. “I don’t know who would turn this down. It feels amazing.” You feel, in fact, just a little bit like you’re on drugs. Grounded in the minute sensations of your body, and yet your mood is soaring, floating and ephemeral.

Ivar’s hands envelop your waist from behind and you almost swoon. They are so large, and so warm, stroking each diamond-shaped island of skin between the ropes. “Then you would like to continue?” He’s feeling it too; his tone is deeper and lighter both at once, as ultra-focused as you are.

“Yes.”

“Can I bind your arms?”

Oh yeah. All this, and you’re not even technically tied up yet. You take a deep breath, turning to look at Ivar sitting on the edge of his bed and staring up at you with dazzled eyes. “Yes.”

His gaze slips lower, and you turn more fully to show off his completed work. “Wow, you look…so good.”

You have to agree. The knotted bands of crimson both bind and enhance your every curve, stacking onto the effect of the silver-embroidered lingerie to make you look like a stolen treasure, the richest captive prize.

“I’m glad I chose the red,” Ivar says. “This shade compliments your skin tone so well.”

You look down at yourself, just reveling in the obscene glory he’s created of you. And rock your hips against that lower rope again. The interconnected tightness of the full harness is fascinating, erotic. The cords pull across your shoulders, around your breasts, encircling your navel.

And Ivar is not even done. “Can you stack your wrists behind your back?”

You turn around, showing him that you can.

“Do you think you could stay that way for . . . twenty minutes?”

You roll your shoulders, testing your muscles. “I think so.”

You feel him start to slide the ropes around. “I can release this quickly if your arms start to ache.”

Something else starts aching as Ivar continues to restrain you. The snugness around your wrists is enticing, and oddly comforting. As are the deft movements of his fingers as he lines up the wraps around your forearms. It feels like he’s sheathing them in several rows, and you let your hands go limp. They don’t need to do anything right now. They can rest.

Ivar’s fingertips dance up your arms when he is done. He draws you to face him again, and you do so, almost feeling like he’s put you into a trance. Normally you would feel awkward with someone just looking at you, like he is, saying nothing. But all nestled up in the embrace of the ropes, you’re happy just to stare back at him. His wide eyes show you that you look just as lovely on the outside as you feel on the inside.

His hands run over your upper body, in admiration of his work. He follows a similar pattern he had traced with the pinwheel earlier. You wonder if he’s going to bring that out again, now that you are bound and cannot escape. Your nipples harden at the thought of how vulnerable you are. And yet, you feel so safe here in Ivar’s room.

“I would like to bind your legs, if you think you could lay on the bed. It may be less comfortable on your arms, though.”

“Let’s try.”

You end up sitting up against the head of the bed, propped with a few pillows while he starts at your ankles, binding them together with a little knot in between. “Do you want to leave your shoes on?” he asks. “I love the heels, but if they are distracting you I’ll take them off.”

“They look cute,” you say. Luckily, they are not the kind that pinch you anywhere. “Leave them on.”

Ivar smiles and continues wrapping the rope upwards, creating a ladder pattern of staggered twists up and over your knees. Watching the precise movements of his arms as he places the cords just so, pulling the tail ends up and between your legs with slow, controlled motions so that they never slap against your skin, you find yourself hypnotized, dissolving on the inside into a warm and cared-for goo.

In no time at all, your legs have been constricted down to a mermaid’s tail.

“How do you feel,” Ivar asks, his breath edging on a whisper.

“Mmm,” you reply. He runs his hand up the side of your leg, skimming the skin between the rectangular windows sectioned off by the rope. You watch his hand dreamily until he bends to insert his face into your line of sight.

He says your name, gently urging you to focus. His eyes are careful and curious. “Are you with me?”

You smile for him, pushing through the trance to focus on being a little bit more of yourself again. “Yes. I feel . . . spaced out, that’s all. Not scared.” You shift against your bonds, just to feel how your arms and legs can’t go anywhere. “I like it.” You feel snug, safe, and somehow calm and excited both at once.

Ivar’s answering smile is indulgent. You can see how much pride he feels, having brought you to this state. His fingers slide along the edge of the binding just below your hips, the wrap that cuts a line across your bare skin above the lace top of your stockings.

“What now?” you ask.

Ivar dips his head, looking at you from under his brows as his cheek pulls into a crooked smile. “Now, we play.” His fingers rake around the sides of your hips, just intense enough to make you squirm.

Squirming is an interesting experience in these ropes. They tighten in unexpected places, calling your attention to various sections of your body, leaving you no room for any thoughts outside of the purely sensory. Ivar’s fingers trace up your sides, and he bends his head to lavish kisses inside the diamond at the center of your abdomen.

It’s a tender spot, made more vulnerable by the fact that your arms are locked behind your back. Tingles buzz through your whole body as the instinctive, survival parts of your brain try to make sense of what is happening. Ivar’s touch is loving, however, strong yet safe, and you melt happily into the buzzing confusion he’s made of your nervous system.

The constant snugness around your limbs makes you feel free, paradoxically. The obvious, concrete reminder that you are fully controlled gives you permission to let go, to stop monitoring yourself or holding anything back. As Ivar’s hands and lips travel across your body, you tell him, in a series of gasps, little moans, and even more primal noises, exactly how he’s making you feel. There’s no way you could hold any of it back. Every inch of your skin, every muscle in your body belongs to him now, and answers to his call.

Ivar makes his own growling sort of sound. “I’m going to move you,” he warns, voice thready like he too is overcome by something deeper than normal words. His strong arms grasp you about the legs and pull you further down the bed. Then he lifts you onto your side, grasping hands eager to explore more regions of your body.

There’s not an inch of you that you don’t want to give to him. The pattern of the ropes has locked your body into something that makes you feel beautiful from head to toe, and you’re not surprised that Ivar wants to explore you from every angle. You can just feel that everything from your ankles to the breadth of your shoulders has been enhanced into an erotic offering.

And yet, you are more than just an object for his use. Ivar remembers to readjust the pillows, to make certain that you are settled into a comfortable configuration as you lay trussed-up on your side across the bed. He kisses your cheek, then his lips ghost across your own in a tantalizing almost-kiss that awakens your desire for him immediately.

But Ivar’s lips are gone before you can kiss him back and keep him there, trailing down your shoulder and the outside of your arm as he moves to admire the ropes that crisscross your back. You are reminded of your longing to take his cock into your mouth. You wonder if he really realized that was what you were offering, before he took out the ropes. Although perhaps he just wanted to get you this way first.

You want to tell him of your wish, to offer this to him again. The need inside of you to give back something, anything to this tantalizing devil of a man is growing enough to choke you. And yet, the trancelike effect of the ropes is robbing you of your ability to speak. The need to direct anything, to choose anything, fades away under the constant sensory input reminding you of Ivar’s control.

His hands across your ass are heavenly. There’s not much ropework there: two strands emerge from between your legs, lining your crack like a thong before separating out to form the diamond harness that wraps your torso. Your leg binding ends well below the swell of your butt muscles. All that sensitive flesh is open and free, aside from the thinnest satin of your panties. You try to imagine how the red rope looks where it cuts across the center of the detailed pattern of silver embroidery on black.

Ivar’s fingers find the edge of your underwear, sliding along and lifting the scalloped hem from the top of your hip along the full curve of your glutes. He pauses halfway down, and pushes the fabric back a little farther. He chuckles. “Are you aware that Ubbe left a bite mark on your ass?”

Breath rushes into your lungs, waking you up a little. “No,” you answer simply.

Ivar only sounds amused. “Sloppy.” He has only ever seemed amused by the whole arrangement, but it’s only natural that you feel just a bit apprehensive when this topic comes up. After all, the whole thing has been framed as an excuse for Ivar to threaten you with punishment. There might be one coming now.

“I am reminded,” he smirks, “that you wanted a little pain tonight.”

Your body curls in a little, your bound knees pulling up closer toward your chest. Which doesn’t do much to protect your ass. Ivar gives it a little slap; not a painful one, but it makes you jump anyway. Your senses are so heightened right now.

“While I did enjoy giving you that spanking”—his hand soothes over you bottom—“now is not the right time to do something like that again. Impact play while you’re already in the ropes… I’m not going to overwhelm you like that tonight.” His fingers lift, dragging circles in your skin lightly enough to tickle. “Rope bondage is more suited for the more subtle kinds of sensation.”

Indeed, those light tickling strokes are sending tingles through your entire backside. You relax the tightness in your abs, letting your hips swell back softly, your core awakening to Ivar’s playful exploration of your hindquarters.

Maybe it’s your imagination, but his fingers seem to return often to where he had pointed out that bite mark. It makes you wonder how Ubbe would react to seeing you now, like this. Would he treat you with as much care as Ivar has?

It’s hard to picture it. More likely he’d use the rope around your wrists as a handle, just to sink in balls-deep and fuck you harder.

Ivar’s fingertips swirl down to your inner thighs, taunting you with the idea that he might start taking advantage of your position now too. Since he has literally tied your legs together, it might take a little creativity to get at your clitoris, but with your knees bent like this it wouldn’t be too hard to slide anything up into your pussy. Just the thought makes your body tingle, swell, and open to him.

Ivar shifts toward the edge of the bed. Your eyes had been closed, enjoying every tiny sensation, but the sound of his crutches against the floor causes them to open.

He doesn’t go far, crossing the room to his computer desk. You remain completely motionless, so blissed out from the trance of the scene that you barely even have the focus to wonder what he might be getting. You could crane your neck, look up far enough to see what he’s doing, but why? Whatever he’s going to do, he’s going to do. Ivar is in complete control here, and it feels so good just to trust him to take care of you.

He opens a drawer, then closes it. It’s easy to identify that sound. You let your eyes drift shut. He comes back, sits down beside you on the bed. And then, an even more distinctive sound: the “shink” noise of his switchblade knife springing open.

“I only meant to introduce shibari tonight,” Ivar says as your eyes land on the naked blade in his hand, “but since you had such a big reaction to the knives today…” he flips it a few times and smirks down at you.

It’s hard to describe the way your body responds to that knife. Your heart starts to race, your skin breaks out in prickles. Your breathing probably stops. Your pussy, in particular, clenches up and then floods with warmth.

Ivar watches it all. You have no idea what kind of expression he can read in your face. He ceases the casual flipping and holds the knife up in the space between you. “Is looking at it enough,” he muses, “or would you like me to touch you with this?”

Every bare part of your skin tingles. Here you are now, his perfect victim. There’s nothing you can do to protect yourself from that cold blade. He leans in just a little closer, but otherwise just watches your face. And waits.

That was a serious question, it seems. He’s really going to make you ask for it. You’re not going to be able to get away with just playing the silent victim here if you want a taste of that thing. It’s a hard decision to make, though. When your survival instincts are this keyed up, can you really say yes? But you don’t want to say no either. Not when one of your secret, darkest kinks is staring you in the face. An opportunity you can’t dare to turn away from. But no words come.

Ivar seems to understand your predicament. “Shake your head if you want to say no,” he says quietly. “Nod if you’re saying yes.” With the hand that is not holding the knife, he gives your arm a reassuring pet. “It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

It takes effort to take your eyes away from the knife, to focus on Ivar’s face again. He looks patient, and totally accepting.

You nod your head.

You might call the smile that breaks over Ivar’s face “gleeful,” but it runs darker than that. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and brings the blade closer to your skin.

He pauses. “What are your safewords?”

You have lick your lips before you can answer. “Yellow if I need a break. Red to stop.”

Ivar nods. “If you say ‘red’ I will put the knife away and take your arms out of the rope immediately. If you say ‘yellow’ we’ll talk, and figure out what you need so you can keep enjoying yourself.”

You nod, and the knife moves toward you again.

You expect him to start somewhere simple, and not too threatening, like your arm. He’s been so kind all night. Building you up so gradually through all these new experiences. But that knife is coming right toward your face. A dozen different muscles tense across your body. You would plead with him with your eyes, but you can’t look away from that blade. You hold your breath as Ivar lays it flat against your cheek.

It’s cold, and unyielding. You freeze, afraid to move wrong lest it slice you accidentally, although you know that deep down you still trust him completely.

“My gorgeous, helpless thing.” The knife drags slowly, a millimeter at a time. “What have you gotten yourself into.” It’s only the flat side, nothing sharp, but your body wants to shudder anyway. “Is this what you’ve been craving?”

He lifts it away from your skin, showing you the wicked edge. A weird sob comes out of your mouth when you try to answer. What a word choice, ‘craving.’ You feel desperate and not in control, although you know that you could end the scene the second that you want to. You are, in fact, enjoying freaking out.

Ivar gives you a condescending little smile like he understands this completely. “I can give you what you need, little one.” He leans in closer, steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, and the flat of the knife comes back to your face. “You only have to tell me your every desire.”

You trust him, but it’s impossible not to flinch when that blade trails off the edge of your jaw and you can feel the scratch of the tip. Except, your reflexes are afraid that flinching will make it worse, and so you clench up instead, the extra tension coming out in a high-pitched little cry.

Ivar watches your face carefully, but when no safeword comes he moves that sharp sharp tip to the swell of your shoulder. “You’re so responsive,” he muses, and drags the point along your arm.

You gasp, you can’t help yourself. You have no idea how much pressure would leave a mark, how much more might leave little beaded drops of red in its wake. You lift your head to look more closely at what he’s done.

He hasn’t done anything, yet. It’s all in your head, and you try to loosen up a little. “No marks on your arms, I remember,” he reassures.

The knife lifts, and hovers lower.

You can’t really see the skin of your flank. Ivar turns his hand, brushing you first with the back of his knuckles, inside one of the diamond openings over your ribs. Warning you where the knife is about to come. It’s soothing and sadistic both at once, isn’t it. The blade is cold as it settles upon your skin, and when he rocks it onto one edge, your breath becomes more and more shallow. He might actually hurt you here. You had only said ‘no marks’ where someone would see.

You whine between your teeth.

Ivar tips his head so that it’s even with yours, checking in. When you don’t give him a safeword he looks back to his work.

The knife lifts, then returns in a slightly different place. He tilts it up to its point, just as he did on your arm, and drags it in a short, slow line. It doesn’t feel the same as it did on your arm. The sensation is so much sharper, setting off much louder warning bells inside your head. If you don’t stop him, will Ivar let it cut your skin? Your breath is catching in little gasps, and there’s a pressure starting to build behind your eyes.

Ivar takes the knife away. “What are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“Um,” you start, struggling to control your breath well enough to give a coherent answer. “Um, I know that you won’t hurt me, but this is just scarier than I thought it would be.”

He nods, listening, and holding the knife well away from your body. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “Yes, and,” you force yourself to be assertive, just as Ivar wants you to be, “I’m not sure that I’m ready to actually be cut today.”

Ivar’s smile is reassuring, his blue eyes blazing just for you. “And it’s ok if you’re never ready to go that far.” He flourishes the knife a little. “I’m enjoying every second of what your body does every time I even bring this thing near you.”

He moves down a little more, and puts his free hand on your hip. The simple touch is so reassuring, so warm, that those tears start brimming up against your eyelids.

You can tell that Ivar sees them. You remember he had said he wanted to see you cry. But he had probably meant from pain, not from tender emotion like this. You attempt to blink them back. Ivar squeezes your hip. “Breathe with me, y/n.” He takes a deep inhale, coaching you to do the same.

You pull the air deep into your lungs, expanding your ribs against his bondage. You keep your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he exhales. “I need you to keep breathing. And don’t be afraid to tell me when you’ve had enough.”

You take one more full, deep breath. “I haven’t,” you say in a sultry voice that sounds a little more like your own. “Not yet.”

“Good.” Ivar lifts the knife again, setting it against the swell of your hip in the wake of his retreating hand.

Your breathy cry is a little closer to a moan this time. It feels much better there, a bit more sexy and a bit less terrifying. As he scratches a few slow lines across your skin, you focus on breathing deeply and watching his hand control the blade deftly upon your skin, fine-tuning the pressure to give you exactly what you asked for. The sensation of threat, without any real injury.

“If this were a movie, I would cut your panties off.” He slides the blade along their edge, setting off goosebumps everywhere and reawakening your core with fresh tingles. “But these are much too wonderful to damage.” He cocks his head the other way. “Although, I suppose that I paid for them, and I could always buy you more…”

He slips the blade underneath the lacy, scalloped edge, fingertips of the other hand sneaking under too, to hold the fabric taut. When you don’t try and stop him, you feel pressure and then a ripping noise begins.

The sudden looseness in the fabric floods your pussy with arousal. You’re exposed to him now, and his teasing fingers are quick to take advantage of that as he completes his work. It takes a second cut to free the garment from your body fully, and even the simple sensations of him sliding the remnants out from under the ropes and fully off you are distinctly turning you on.

You hear him close the knife, put it away. Then both his hands are on you, soothing over every spot his blade had threatened. He starts at your hip, bending down to press kisses into your skin, his firm hands running over the expanse of your cheeks. He drags himself up the bed behind you, until he can kiss that diamond window over your ribs where you almost lost it.

Next Part Here

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#ivar x reader #ivar imagine #ivar/reader #dom!ivar #ivar the boneless #playing house fic

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hinaaspanda · 3 years

Text

...and they were (more than) roommates! | njm

Pairing: Campus Pretty Boy + Roommate! Jaemin x Dancer! Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 9576

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin.

a/n; hi! for this fic i tried adding my own oc (Hina) just to spice things up!! lol totally not to insert myself as jenos love interest or anything ahaha anyways please enjoy!

Huang Renjun never thought that breaking off one college relationship would be so detrimental to your heart.

It really was such a small relationship, just one month of innocent pecks on the cheeks in between classes, weekend dinner dates, and trips around the city on your breaks. It was such a minute thing, yet your heart couldn’t get enough. You grew invested, never wanting to let go. Becoming dependent on mere goodbye kisses. And after one month of being together, you were stuck watching him drift away, fingers intertwined with that of someone new. Now, of course, one question remained; if it was such a short relationship, why in the world did it hurt your heart so much?

You sat under the brisk afternoon sunlight, gnawing at the cafeteria food as your campus friends began bickering over god knows what. You tune out the ruckus before you, your mind wandering like a lost child between the aisles of a supermarket. An image of him swims into your mind as you curse under your breath. It didn’t matter how healthy your break up was, or how put together your persona must’ve seemed. The only thing you wanted was to be in Renjun’s arms once again.

Suddenly, you felt the stares of a concerned Hina and Shotaro burning through you. Your shoulders shivering at the sudden thrust into the spotlight. Was your thinking face that miserable-looking? You sent a half-assed chuckle in the hopes of diverting their attention.

“Is something wrong-”

“You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?” Your childhood friend, Hina, began rather harshly, throwing off your more laid-back classmate, Shotaro. “About Renjun?”

The soda that slid down your throat almost shot out of your lips, straight into the air as Hina stared you down, interrogating you. How obvious were you? You pondered for a little bit, your eyes now meeting Hina’s and Shotaro’s concerned ones. You couldn’t defy the truth to your overly caring friends, even if you tried. “...Yeah. I was.”

The somber air around you thickened with each passing minute as you finished off your lunch for the day. You wince, fearing your friends would, out of disappointment in your inability to shut up about your failed love life, cut ties with you right then and there. You wouldn’t blame them, though. Even you were starting to get tired of your weak, measly heart. Shotaro breaks the silence, a sweet grin plastered on his face.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n! You just need to find something to get your mind off of him!” Shotaro chirps, his upbeat demeanor infecting Hina beside him. Hina continues, a grin now lining her lips.

“How about another date? With someone new!”

You almost scoff out loud. “Another date?”

The bold figure of Hina crossed her arms in disbelief. “There are other guys out there, y/n. What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?.”

“My roommate? No! We’re just friends, nothing else!” You quickly retort, waving your hands in a very strong denial. Hina’s head tilted in persuasion.

“You’ll never know until you try, y/n.” Your head hung low as you let out the fifth sigh that day. You loved Hina, you truly did, but with these outlandish ideas protruding from her head, you were convinced she was going crazy.

...

“What? You gonna chicken out or something?” Donghyuck scoffed through a disgusting amount of food stuffed in his mouth. “You’re telling me the campus hottie’s too scared to go on a date?” Jaemin’s eyes sent nothing but death threats to the aggravating college student, sipping on the vending machine drink destructive to his health. He was offended, to say the least. Offended at how inaccurate his so called ‘friend’ was being, anyways.

Na Jaemin had it all. A decent fashion sense, heavenly proportions, good grades and work ethic. A face most people would classify as attractive, and a bright, luring smile to tie it all together. Some say he was the whole package, driving the women of the campus insane as they line up to get a simple glimpse of the school’s resident hottie. He was the campus pretty boy, but one question remained; why was he still single?

It’s been theorized by many, some believing in his virtuous desire to focus on his studies, while others believe he might just swing another way or simply not interested in the idea of romance. But one thing stayed true, Na Jaemin was not some coward who couldn’t get a date.

The pretty boy sat before his set of now intrigued college friends, Donghyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang, all riddled with such an irritating curiosity it made Jaemin cringe. It was only Tuesday, Jaemin had a tower of school work waiting for him back at home, and the last thing he needed was three idiots challenging his love life. He reached for another sip of his drink, cursing at lack of said drink in the can.

“Don’t be stupid, Hyuck. I could get a girl if I wanted to. I’m just...busy right now, with schoolwork and stuff”

“Oh really?” Donghyuck’s sly voice ticked a flame in Jaemin’s soul. He huffed out a disbelieving scoff as he leaned back on the cheap, plastic chair. Was he really doubting him? He quite literally had the entire female population of the school at his grasp, and Donghyuck was doubting him? Lee Donghyuck was bound to eat his words, as gross as a child to their ice cream.

“Yeah, I can get any girl around here, just watch. And if I don’t?” Jaemin’s eyes scour around, searching for a way out another stupid idea before finally landing on the trash pile that was Yangyang’s homework. “...I’ll do your guy’s homework for a week.”

Everyone’s eyes widened at Jaemin’s proposal, a proposal that stunted even the slyest of prankers, Lee Donghyuck himself. Was he really going all out? Sacrificing a week of freetime for some measly bet? Even stupefying the once unbothered Jeno, trapped in his own, unexpectedly unfortunate love life.

“Dude are you serious? Deal!” Donghyuck and Yangyang practically hollered, both sending Jaemin a crisp slap on the back. Na Jaemin, how much of an idiot are you?

“So, who do you think you're gonna go for?” Jeno gripped the strap of his school bag as him and Jaemin trotted away from their final class of the day. Jaemin huffed out what felt like the 100th sigh that afternoon. His eyes grazing the trees peeking through the campus windows. Surely he needed a plan, right? No matter how many girls relished in his good looks, he wouldn’t possibly survive without one. Jaemin’s palms grew cold, pupils shaking in a sudden fear. God, maybe he would be stuck writing Yangyang’s overdue essays for the next week.

“What about that y/n girl?” Jeno suddenly chirped. “The quiet one from the dance department?”

Jaemin froze in his tracks, looking synonymous to a deer caught in headlights. He tilted his head, puzzled, to say the least. “...y/n?”

“Yeah, I heard she got out of a relationship recently.”

Jaemin’s once boastful voice soon grew into a stuttering mess as Jeno walked past him, sending a heartwarming chuckle. Jeno turned around, giving one final look to Jaemin, currently bathing underneath the small snippets of evening sunlight.

“It’s just something to think about, Jaem. Don’t worry about it too much.”

...

Your legs were anything but stable as you stepped off the city bus that night. You loved to dance, but you wouldn’t be lying if you said it drained you faster than a mosquito sucking out your blood. The mustard streetlight effortlessly cascaded off of your frame as your wobbly figure began its long trek to your apartment. Sudden buzzes from your phone shook you awake一a sensation your exhausted self clearly needed一before you clicked on the notification.

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: I bought us some dinner before I got home

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: sorry it’s frozen pizza lol I’m too poor :((

Roomie :) [7:36pm]: oh also I got a favour to ask when u get here

Your mind trails back to lunch, with a familiar phrase replaying in your head for the umpteenth time that day.

How about another date? With someone new?

You huffed out another somber sigh, something you found yourself doing a lot, lately. Could you really do it? Could you finally let go of the dead weight? Finally free yourself of the heartbreak tainting you? You feel your heart clenching inside you as you fumble with your house keys. Could your heart handle another simple date?

What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?

No, your roommate didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve being bombarded with the atrocity that was your failed love life. He was too sweet, too caring to deal with anything of the sort. Besides, with how gentle and pleasant he is, it was certain you didn’t deserve him.

This wouldn’t have been the first time you held your roommate in such high regard. He really had it all, a kind personality, decent looks, and an exquisite taste in cheap, diabetes inducing food. He knew all the best coffee places and knew the perfect times to surprise you with your favorite drinks. He wasn’t just some rando who split the rent with you. He was your friend. A sudden rush of unwanted blood heats up your cheeks as you stop in your tracks.

He was your friend. Nothing more.

The golden light of your apartment blinded you as you strolled in. The figure of your roommate was cast before you, dawning his classic ivory shirt and grey sweatpants, paired perfectly with his undone hair, and a plate of steaming hot pizza, straight from the microwave. It looked nothing like the pretty boy image he left your apartment with before class this morning. It was surreal, really. Only you got the luxury to see him like this. It was one of the strange perks of being roommates with the one and only, Na Jaemin.

“Welcome home!” Jaemin chirped to your sleepy figure. He thrusted the plate of pizza to you, a smile wiped across his cheeks. “Pizza?”

...

Your heart almost leaped out of your chest.

Your trembling, sweaty palms couldn’t stop shaking since dinner, almost breaking one of your scarce dinner plates in the process of washing them. You couldn’t blame yourself, though. Na Jaemin’s proposal was nothing but calming.

“So, what were you gonna ask me, anyways?” You spat through your mouth full of rubbery pizza. God, you need to eat properly before practice. You glanced at our roommate, currently fiddling with the tips of some miscellaneous fork as he suddenly dodged your eyes.

“Uh, yea, that.” He stuttered. So timid, it was unreal to you. Usually this man had no fear of asking for favours. Whether it was doing his laundry or fixing up dinner on his assigned day of the week, he would never show any hesitation on asking you to do anything.

“Okay this is gonna sound weird, but…” Jaemin started, breaking into a cold sweat. “I need you to go on a fake date with me.” Jaemin finally exhaled before connecting his eyes with yours. The whites of your eyes spilled out, along with the juice that almost had the chance of successfully slipping down your throat. He wanted... what?

“Don’t worry! It’s just gonna be one date! I made this stupid bet with Hyuck, and if I don’t get a date soon, I need to do their homework for a whole week!” He gripped the locks of his hair as he slumped onto his side of the dining table.

You shuffled back to the dining room, clenching your paper towel tightly in your palm. Anything to help calm your rapid heart down, just for a moment. “And, you can use this as a chance to distract yourself from that Renjun asshole.”

A sudden pain struck your chest like a lightning bolt to a lanky tree, barren in a grassland. You wince at the sudden calling of that name, your taste buds growing sour. You let out another soft sigh. You really need to get over him, fast. You stretch up from your seat, hoisting up the now empty dinner plate as you trudge towards the sink. But not before stopping in your tracks, tilting your head in Jaemin’s direction.

“I-uh-I’ll think about it.”

Oh, you thought about it, alright. Screamed into your poor, innocent pillow about it, at least.

It all zoomed too fast for you, too swift for your brain to handle. Your breathing grew short and shallow. You felt as if you could die, right then and there, gripping onto your bed sheets while freaking out about Na Jaemin, your bold roommate. No, you couldn’t take up his risque offer. You were in no shape to go on another date, even if it did have no actual meaning behind it. You were too tangled in your mess of a life, and this stupid move would only fan the fire.

You can use this as a chance to distract yourself from Renjun.

The phrase rang through your head more time than you would’ve liked. No matter how much you shielded yourself from his claim, Jaemin would still be right in that manner. You needed to distract yourself, sure. But was this the way to go?

Another sigh escapes your lips as you rush down the hall of your apartment. Your steps, hesitant as ever, dripping in a mix of confusion, exhaustion and nervousness. It’s official. You are the worst at well thought-out decisions.

“Hey” you huffed at your roommate, eyeing him timidly as he washes the dishes. Something your shaken figure couldn’t properly complete without breaking a glass that night. He shifts to face you, a slightly nervous expression painting him. You clear your throat before continuing, hoping that small cough would stop time in its tracks.

“I-I’ll go on that date with you.”

His classic boisterous smile spreads across his face once again. If your mind wasn’t rushing around in four different places at once, you could probably admit that you found it the slightest bit cute.

“Really? Thanks so much! How does this Saturday at 7 sound?”

You only had the mental energy to swiftly nod your head as you zoomed back into the confines of your room, your safe space. You couldn’t help but notice the heat rising back to your cheeks as you plopped back onto the bed, vigorously scrolling through your phone to find your saviours.

the gorls and shotaro [9:48pm]: guys I need help with something

the gorls and shotaro [9:49pm]: let’s meet at hina’s after class

...

“I don’t care if you’re just going on some fake date to lie to his friends, I still wanna make you look hot!” Hina never failed to leave you, Shotaro, and probably some people passing by her house, shaken by her booming voice. With her small, fragile looking frame, she was the last one you’d expect to have such a bold personality.

“Please, that’s the fifth dress in your closet she’s tried already. It’s just a fake date, we don’t even need to try hard!” Shotaro challenges, his attention leaving a now grumbling Hina as it turns towards you. “Why did you even say yes, anyways?”

“I dunno, I’m stupid?” You murmur, the hint of bitterness caught in your breath. You give a subpar twirl to your audience, a deadpan expression shielding your face. “I guess I wanna help him? It would suck to do all that homework for a week.”

“Yeah, but he could easily ask any other girl on the campus. This is freaking Na Jaemin we’re talking about!” Hina once again hollered. An action that would guarantee her a slap on the head if you didn’t love her so much.

“Are you sure it's just for that stupid bet?”

You slip into the makeshift change room, which was really just blankets hung on coat hangers, propped across two sides of a corner in Hina’s room. After making your final decision for your outfit of the night, you change back into your own clothes, stalling your response to Hina’s question. You never knew why you felt the need to stall, though. You should know your answer by now, right?

“Yeah, it’s just for the bet, nothing else.” You find your voice trailing off at those last words of yours as you emerge from the corner, holding the destined outfit that made the cut. Hina sighed, plopping onto the bed like the main character of those dramas after they finally find out they’re in love.

“Just make sure you aren’t lying to yourself, y/n. It could hurt you.”

“Oh really? Isn’t it time you listen to your own advice??” Shotaro provoked, Hina now shooting up from the bed in irritation. “How are things going with that Jeno guy, huh?”

“I am going to murder you.” Hina’s voice stayed low, barely trembling before zooming through the door, chasing a now escaping Shotaro and his incredibly fast feet. You, however, couldn’t pray for Shotaro’s survival. Not with your mind stuck in it’s own rut, and your cheeks now glowing a violent pink.

This was just for a bet, nothing else. You reminded yourself once again.

...

“This wasn’t too bad, right?” His soothing voice swam through your ears softly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm down your heart, which was currently pacing anywhere but your chest. You mustered up all the courage in the world to glance back at his eyes across the restaurant table, your breaths stopping in an effort to hide the sudden rush of blood flowing to your cheeks. With his unbothered eyes locking onto yours in an instant, Na Jaemin sent you another one of his heartache-inducing smiles. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

This shouldn’t be affecting you this much. After all, the only thing you and Jaemin really did was sit under the restaurant roof, order dishes deemed perfect under the social media lens, and take pictures with said dishes, becoming the perfect pieces of evidence to show that Na Jaemin was no coward. However, with the romantic, first date type outfit draped onto your figure, and the general ambience of the room, you couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit flustered. You shot him another smile, one hiding the forest fire that was your mental state. “Uh, yeah! No problem!”

Silence fell over the two of you as you listened to the clinks of glass sounding off from the dishwashing station behind you. A silence that you wanted to hold onto more than anything. But alas, Your roommate breaks it, glancing up from the ground.

“You look great, by the way.”

Your cheeks flush a deep vermillion. They’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“Thanks, Jaem.” You barely muster out, dodging his eyes. “But you don’t have to say stuff like that, this is all fake, remember?” You took the time to remind him, not fully sure who truly needed it. You fiddled with your fingers as your ears picked up the sudden ruckus of obnoxious college students coming from down the dining hall.

“You should ask her out, Jeno!” a voice chirped

“No! Are you crazy? She probably thinks I’m weird or something”

“I doubt it, you’re hot! Plus, she’s in my department! I can alway ask-”

“Guys, quick, look! Over there!”

The voices grew closer and closer, the whites of your eyes spilling more and more in utter shock. You can’t help but check on Jaemin, the same expression now burning through you. You mirrored each other so much, you could tell the exact words running through his mind right now. Mostly because they ran through yours, too. Oh Shit.

“JAEMIN!!” The voice of an irritating Lee Donghyuck rang through your ears at an alarming, and unwanted rate. The hollers of an equally aggravating Liu Yangyang from Jaemin’s class, swiftly followed, leaving behind the only tolerable one, Lee Jeno behind. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Ahaha, hey!” Jaemin stuttered, panic overflowing in his eyes as the three intruders squished into the already occupied, two person booth. His eyes scanned the restaurant, grasping for any way to escape. Afterall, this was certainly not part of the plan. Donghyuck’s curious eyes scanned, too, his pupils finally focusing on you. “And who might this be?”

“I-I’m y/n” You stuttered out, your wrist feeling heavy as you began gesturing to the date in front of you. “I’m his da-”

A lightbulb jumped from Jaemin’s head, his shoulder jolting in response. Na Jaemin wasn’t one for outlandish pranks, especially if you were at the receiving end, which only made your thumping heart wonder; what the hell was he trying to pull now?

“She’s my date.”

Suddenly, your once isolated and vacant hand was tugged to the center of the dinner table before softly getting encased in his. His fingers, notably bigger than your nimble ones, interlocked with yours. Heat began to creep up at your ears. Who knew your hand fit so perfectly in his? You looked down, foolishly hoping that your cheeks would stop flushing into that embarrassing red if you hid it well enough. “See?”

“Oh!” Donghyuck lined his lips with a stupid grin, his eyebrows wiggling as he scoffs in disbelief. Yangyang riled up with excitement beside him, and even the calm Jeno couldn’t stop his jaw from falling to the floor. Na Jaemin did it. He really pulled it off. “I guess we’re disturbing something, then?”

“No worries! We were just about to leave, anyways” Jaemin still held onto that panicked tremble in his voice as the two of you shuffled through the restaurant booth. He stalked behind you before handing you your coat. “See you guys tomorrow!”

Your mind couldn’t help but focus on the light touch Jaemin’s palm left on the lower, small of your back as he gently escorted you from the restaurant. You felt like a princess, protected by your knight’s brute strength, as you tiptoed on your path of feathers. That darned flushed heat wouldn’t leave your cheeks. Na Jaemin, your one and only roommate, was driving you crazy.

The wind roughly brushes against your cheek as the two of you finally exit the restaurant. The breeze was the last thing you would’ve classified as comfortable, which was why you felt just the slightest twinge of disappointment once the warmth of his hand snaked away from you. His palm hugged the nape of his neck as his eyes softened from their former panic.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know they’d show up so randomly.”

No, he had nothing to apologize for. It was your fault for being so greedy. You instinctively widen the distance between you, saving yourself from a wave of embarrassment.

“It’s fine.”

It’s official, you hated your weak heart more than anyone.

...

Three. There were three instances in which your heart was set on fire the next day, by none other than the infamous Na Jaemin, of course.

[10:49 am]

A violent GAME OVER! blasted through your ear drums as you slumped on the couch, watching your roommate die for the 70th time that evening. He let out an equally jolting groan, throwing the controller to the depths of your living room carpet before rushing to check if it was okay. You sat promptly on the couch he leaned against, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as if last night you didn’t experience the most heart-collapsing date in the 19 years of your life.

Your heart still hasn’t properly healed from it, either. Every time you pass by him in the halls, whether it be a quick snack or a glass of water, your heart never fails to tense up, your throat tightening up in a cruel response. You swear, Na Jaemin was out for your blood the moment he asked you to stay in the living room with him, even if it was to simply watch him fail play.

“Aw fuck me!” Jaemin suddenly blurted out as he examined the now loosened control button. As if on cue, an army of redness storms through your cheeks as you listen in, his simple word choice setting you off. Your head shakes vigorously enough to give you a pounding headache, before you get the chance to fill your head with certain spoiled thoughts. Wow, you really are evil.

You didn’t spare him the explanation for your sudden departure from the living room couch. All you knew was that your mind and heart were running haywire, and the only thing that could stop you from thinking about your roommate as anything but your roommate was a deep rethinking of your own morals beside your castle of stuffed animals.

[2:45 pm]

“Here, I’ll get that for you.” Jaemin’s towering figure shielded your back from the apartment kitchen as he stretched over, retrieving the ranging dish your pitiful frame couldn’t reach. He closed the air between you, his extended chest grazing your shoulder as you stood frozen, your mouth gaping open. He sends you a playful grin as he hands you the plate. “You should try growing a little more, y/n!”

You were too stuck in your questionable haze to tighten your grip on the glass plate, so it was only natural to feel the glass slip through your fingers, shards of the crisp material scattering around your bare feet. Frightened, Jaemin scurried below you, the gentleness of his fingers as he picks up each shard of glass sending butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh my god! Y/n, are you alright!?” You wanted to scoff at his face. Of course you weren’t.

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay.”

He glances up from below you, his fingers circling the new scratch on your foot that only surfaced from your astound clumsiness.

“Be careful next time, alright?”

You nod hesitantly, staying frozen as Jaemin swiftly works around you; throwing out the dangerous glass shards, running away to retrieve your first aid kit, and patching up your pathetic wound in what felt like one swift heartbeat. God, how pathetic were you?

[8:22 pm]

“Have you seen my hoodie? The blue one?” Jaemin showed no mercy to your innocent door as it swung straight into the wall beside it. You let out an award-winning shriek, your once calm figure jumping from its curled up position. “I think it’s in your laundry bin.”

What he actually had on was...minimal. Nothing but tousled, damp hair and a white towel hooked around his waist. You would let out another shriek if you wanted to, but the lack of air reaching your lungs, all from the utter shock of a half-naked Na Jaemin in your wake, stopped you from spitting out any kind of noise imaginable. You dig your fingernails into the flesh of your poor teddy bear as you shield your eyes from your door frame.

“Gahh! What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh.” It finally clicked in his mind that his current appearance was not for the faint of heart. Not for yours, at least. You let out another ear- piercing wail. “Put on a shirt already!!”

Jaemin let out a boastful, childish laugh. He leaned over, digging for your eyes, which were currently finding anything else to lay their attention on. “What, are you getting flustered?”

Your eyes finally meet up with his as he keeps you hostage with his stare. A familiar heat storms up your cheeks for the millionth time that evening as you grip the limb of another one of your stuffies on standby. With one final whine, you chuck the plush at his direction. Your lack of looking back all in an effort to hide your glowing red face, out for revenge. “Get out!”

“You’re so cute, y/n.” Jaemin teasingly hums as he slips out of your door frame. You let out an exhausted huff, your chest loosening so much, you’re convinced you haven’t been properly breathing before then.

Na Jaemin will seriously be the death of you.

...

You knew it was cowardly, but you just had to run away. Your weak heart wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise.

You wisp into the barren walls of the dance studio, the flickering lights blinding your vision as you switch them on. You shuffle to the corner of the room, dropping your bag before fumbling with the music station. A soothing song swims through your ears as you settle down in the center of the room, an eye keeping watch of your posture. You close your eyes. Maybe this will finally calm your heart down.

You start slowly, an arm traveling artistically through the air as your legs twirl around the floor. The melody of the music carries your limbs away, leaving your mind alone to think.

They were just simple interactions, a simple slip up ending with a broken dish, a simple choice of words, a simple clasp of the hands to keep up with some measly lie. They were such small things, so why did your heart light up in flames everytime? Why did each instance leave a staining image of Jaemin in your mind, everytime?

You think back to the man that held your heart, before brutally smashing it with his own fist. Huang Renjun. He hasn’t grazed your mind for quite some time now, but this familiar feeling wasn’t exactly pleasurable. Your heart soaked itself in that same lonely feeling, the desire to cling back. You froze from your dance, expecting full well your mind would submerge in a pool of sorrow. Yet, this week was just full of surprises, wasn’t it?

Another image of your horrid roommate flies into your mind, your head mentally swatting it away like a pestering insect. Nonetheless, it’s trailed back, persistent as ever, as you grumble your way to turn off the music. Na Jaemin, wins again.

You could admit, Jaemin kept his promise at shielding your mind away from your failing love life, but he never warned you about the repercussions that were of him seeping into a corner of your heart. His risque, almost flirty behaviour, his teasing remarks, a smile that would brighten up a barren world. He just wouldn’t leave your mind. Yet, you knew you couldn’t have him. If your forest fire of a romance with Renjun had taught you anything, it was that you couldn’t love. You were too clueless, too childish to properly hold someone’s heart. You didn’t deserve anyone’s love.

After gathering your belongings, you trek out the door. You were so lost in your thoughts, not even the thing you held to your heart so dearly, dancing, could pull you out of your rut. You were in no state to go back home just yet, so your fingers trace your phone screen to look for Hina, your resident childhood friend and therapist, apparently. And you wished you had the luxury of plopping onto Hina’s bed, screaming out all your anger into her pillow as she sneaks snacks up to her room, but your horrid life had other plans.

A familiar figure stop’s in their tracks, their bag swaying in their grasp一a grasp that was almost loosened in pure shock一 as they connect their eyes to yours. You stay frozen, your breath hitching as you search for anything to say. And by the looks of it, they were doing the same.

“Y-y/n?” The voice of a flabbergasted Huang Renjun rings through your ear. “W-what are you doing here?”

...

It didn’t take Jaemin long to realize you had left early that morning. Your dance bag left an awkward space beside your night stand in its absence, the dish drying rack was already occupied, with one simple plate and a glass turned over. But more importantly, Jaemin woke up with an empty, lost feeling rumbling inside him一something he only felt when you weren’t around.

It first occurred during the third week of splitting rent, when you joined the school’s dance team. You had left the room without a trace, leaving Jaemin to search for you like a lost puppy to its reluctant owner, instead of getting ready for his afternoon class. He tried his best to brush it off as simple boredom, but with the way his vision simply lights up in your presence, even he started to get suspicious of himself.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it at first, the very reason you always trailed in his mind. It could have been anything. Your immense amount of talent, the wisp of anonymity that surrounded you, one he strived to break to get to know you better. The angelic personality he was first greeted with once he did break down that barrier. Anything about you could’ve easily pulled his heart closer to you. He was in love.

Nevertheless, he clearly wasn’t obvious enough, as within weeks of beginning your college career, your figure was cradled in the arms of another man. Huang Renjun, resident A+ student and Jaemin’s childhood classmate.

As the days pass by, and he becomes bombarded with endless homework, the two of you slowly drift apart, returning to the simple ‘roommate’ label on your contact lists. He resorts to the abundance of girls around the campus. Hoping each one he’d fool around with could finally get his head away from you. Yet, as he always comes home just to see your face, so did his heart, apparently.

Don’t get him wrong, he felt terrible the night you trudged home in tears, the fresh sadness of a break up welling through you. And he tried everything in his power to make you feel better, though it never worked. But一 and he would rather kill a man than ever let this slip from his tongue一he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit relieved that you were finally in his grasp once again.

“So, how serious are you? About her?” Jeno quizzed through the phone, a now distressed Na Jaemin on the other side of the line. Jaemin fell onto the bed, dust particles jumping into the air.

“I really like her” Jaemin huffed.

“So? Then go tell her! You should be with her, not here blabbering about her to me. Look, you don’t have anything to worry about, Jaem. It’s not like she’s in a relationship anymore.”

Jaemin's eyes widen and Jeno’s nonchalant words. That's right. You weren’t taken anymore. Not trapped in the confines of another man’s arms. It was what he was fighting for, all those months ago. Na Jaemin finally had a shot with you.

“Are you sure you like her?” Jeno pulled Jaemin back to reality as Jaemin scrambled to the bathroom. He placed the device down on the bathroom sink, his eyes locking in with his reflection from the bathroom mirror. “Yeah.”

He chuckled to himself before ending the call, an image of you rolling into his mind. ‘Like’ would be a deep understatement. He was in love, has been for months now, and he was finally ready to tell the truth. He probably looked like a little kid hungry for ice cream, but he didn’t care. He paced out the door. He was going to finally have you, once and for all.

...

“She and I are good, yeah.” Renjun stuttered out, not looking past the drink he hastily purchased before the two of you sat down in the campus cafe. “What about you? How have you been?”

With all your might, you stopped your throat from belting out a petty laugh. How have you been? Was he being serious? You’ve been pleasant, aside from all the inner turmoil ringing through your heart at the moment. You sent a bogus smile at the man in front of you. “I’ve been...alright.”

The awkward silence suffocated you, squeezing your throat so tight, not a single sliver of air could slip through. Why did he come across you now of all times? And why did he have to be so much more emotionally sound than you were? Renjun shifted around, clearing his chest with a small ahem! You knew he was always a man who would never beat around the bush, and today was no exception.

“I’m sorry…” His sudden confession shook you to your core, the liquid inside your glass mimicking your shivering movements. Your eyes, out of pure shock, finally take the courage to graze across Renjun as he continues. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that, I know I didn’t give you that much of an explanation back then.”

Your eyes retire back to the wooden table in front of you. He didn’t need to apologize. He didn’t need to explain himself at all, not when your greedy heart was at fault. “I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I wasn’t enough for you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Renjun.” You were having enough trouble forgetting him as it is, you didn’t need this.

“I didn’t wanna lie to myself, so that’s why I left you so abruptly like that.” He explains, his fingers turning white from his grip on the coffee cup. Your breaths grow short, your mind scurrying to find the hidden meaning behind his words. All this time, your mind retired to the idea of him running away from your clinging figure, claiming that now rash narrative as valid; correct. Tearing your heart up into little pieces in the process.

“So we didn’t break up because I was being...selfish?”

“Selfish? Of course not.” He comforted. “You deserve someone else, someone way better than me.”

Your mind trails back to your roommate once again, his smile growing more contagious. You find your lips sneaking in a small smile at the thought of him. Except, this time, no twinge of sorrow had followed. Like a bag of bricks lifted off your shoulders, you were finally free. You shined a genuine grin, your first in a long while. “So, we’re good?”

“Of course, y/n.”

You were so trapped in your own childish thoughts, you didn’t notice the hasty booming steps crash through the cafe door frame.

“Y/N!” The voice of your roommate flew through your ears, striking you like a deer caught in blinding headlights. His volume was so loud, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard him from the outside of the cafe. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

...

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back. Generally unbothered with a smirk lining his lips every now and then. It was one of the ways he stayed on top of the collective campus hierarchy for so long, he was always calm, cool, and collected. He always was, except for today. Instead, he was scrambling at his feet, thumbing through every inch of the school, looking for the infamous y/n.

He finally skips to the cafe, the faint scent of coffee and flavouring overtaking him. He was a panting mess, his hands gripping at the bolts of his knees as he leaned over in pure exhaustion. It was weird, Jaemin always considered himself to be decently fit. It must’ve been you, suddenly turning his world upside down.

She’s gotta be here.

As if on cue, your head pops up on the corner of his eye, basking under the afternoon sunlight which generously seeped through the cafe window. Your eyes weren’t on him, but that wasn’t the worst of his problems. His eyes travel further down your direction, his limp legs mindlessly following like a puppet on two strings. Your eyes weren’t on Jaemin. They were on someone else.

Renjun.

A familiar clenching feeling pulls on his heart harshly, so much so, that his hands reach up to palm the pain through his chest. He’s only felt this rude awakening one other time in the 19 years of his life; the moment you left the house on your first ever date with Huang Renjun. A flame ignites within him as he stalks up to the table. With his heaving breaths and awkward, stiff posture, it was inevitable he'd summon a couple of stares from various customers, but he couldn’t care less.

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back, but because of you, he became this gross, jealous, poor excuse of a man.

“You didn’t have to be so loud, you know!” You found your voice peaking at the end of your sentence, probably gathering more attention than what you were currently lecturing Jaemin for. A blush stained the circles of your cheeks, though you were never quite sure whether it was the embarrassment of being the center of attention, or the fact that Na Jaemin came rushed and disheveled, looking for you. You cleared your throat to hide your obscene thoughts一a practice you’ve been getting the hang of, lately. “What did you need from me anyway-”

“Why were you with him.” Jaemin cut in. Although, with his stone cold frame now towering over you, his eyes; unassuming and distant, and shallow, hitched breaths, you weren’t even certain this was the same roommate you couldn’t get out of your head for the past week. You simply wave your hand away.

“We just happened to meet up by accident, and we got to talk some stuff out, that's all.” You prayed that your calm voice could soothe the currently tempered man before you. Of course, however, it didn’t.

“Was it really?”

“Yes! Okay, Jaem? What’s with you today?”

“Don’t visit him anymore.” His voice boomed towards the end of his sentences, startling even the finest of nature as two innocent birds fly away in fear.

Something didn’t click, didn’t sit right in your head. Since when was he so demanding? So rude? You found yourself slowly backing away from his figure, an action you thought you’d have to do in your life. Before, he was always a safe space for you, even without your confusing feelings for him. He was always there for you. But now, the air around turned gray, and you were scared more than anything. You scoff, throwing Jaemin off.

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“I’m only worried for you, y/n.”

“Worried about what, exactly? That I’d get back with Renjun?” You stand firm before him. Y/n, what the hell are you doing now. To your own dismay, you continue. “Why would you care about that anyways?”

“Am I not allowed to care about you!?” He practically hollered at the top of his lungs. A fire welled up inside you, with no way of fanning it down. Who does this guy think he is?

“Last time I checked, we didn’t have anything real! Everything between us was all a damn lie! So no, maybe you don’t!”

You lay one final blow straight to Jaemin’s chest, knocking him down like a line of concurred dominoes. Your heart clenches in a cruel response. You were right, factually correct, but the truth always came with a price. Spectators began to crowd around the scene, as a fuming Jaemin stalks towards you, closing the distance between your shoulder blades and brick wall behind you.

“WELL MAYBE I WANTED SOMETHING REAL!” Jaemin retorted, eyes holding a flame you never thought your calm roommate could ignite within him. The air around you grew cautious, the only things sounding off were the weary engines driving past the scene of the crime. His breath grew shallow as it brushed against your skin, your trembling figure watching as he let out an aggravated sigh. His fingers, laced in irritation, comb through his hair as he softens his voice into one final whisper.

“But you don’t want anything like that, right? ‘Cause you’re still caught up with that Renjun asshole?”

“Jae-”

“Forget it” Jaemin spits, his eyes finally dodging yours. He backs away from your trembling figure, his hands buried in his pockets as he quickened his pace away from you. Jaemin hissed under his breath, everything finally clearing up in his head. You didn’t want him, You were never ready to move on. It’s official, Na Jaemin couldn’t have you, and he never will.

...

Your brain always had a knack for remembering things, keeping random nuggets of knowledge stored deep within random crevices of your head. Your brain always had a good memory, and today was no exception.

Forget it.

You could probably liven up a lifeless desert with your endless tears that stained Hina’s pillows that night. It would be life or death to retire properly to your own home, not with the atrocity that was this afternoon still thriving in your wake. One more bottled emotion, and your body would simply burst out of existence. You could only properly pinpoint three of them; exhaustion welling up in your feet, confusion tearing through your brain, and guilt overflowing in your heart.

“What am I gonna do?” you weep through the flesh of Hina’s teddy bear. After tossing the empty pop can into her makeshift trash can, Hina plopped onto her bed beside you, drilling a finger straight into her temple. “You need to tell him how you feel, y/n, you can’t just leave him in the dark like that. That’s probably why he got so riled up.”

Your eyes shake as they stay on the ground. Hina shuffles around arms crossing in a full interrogation. “You do know what you want, right?”

Slowly, and without much thought pulling at your strings, you slowly nod. “Well then, what is it?”

An image of your roommate shines into your head once again. The kind roommate you had the great luxury of coming home to, the one always saving you a slice of frozen pizza for when you arrive, the one who reaches the irritating dishes at the top of the cupboard, the one you couldn't get out of your mind. His heartwarming demeanour, his charming smile, his everything. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. With a twinge of determination, you lock eyes with Hina.

“I want it all to be real. I wanna be with Jaemin.”

Hina rested her back onto the plump mattress, a smug grin lining her lips as she crossed her arms in pride. “So you’re finally gonna start listening to me, hm?”

...

“Are you sure about this, Jaem?” Yangyang has never一in Jaemin’s two years of knowing him一sounded so concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. It sent shivers down his spine, how pitiful Jaemin must’ve looked right now. His fingers grasped the horrendous stack of papers; one wrong move could easily decorate the floor with the homework, and Jaemin was...concerned, to say the least.

“Why are we even doing this? You won the bet!” Donghyuck hugged his own stack close to his chest as the three boys watched Jaemin’s head sink low to the floor, and watched his heart sink even lower. “Yeah, about that...”

Even if the truth hurts, it needs to be said, right?

“...Y/n wasn’t my date at the restaurant. I never asked anyone out, actually. The truth is… she’s my roommate. I only asked her out on a fake date so I could keep the bet going.”

Jaemin felt the confused, yet somber stares of Jeno burn through his skin. It only made sense that Jeno had a few questions; Na Jaemin’s beaten up, hunched over figure was nothing like the lovestruck, head-over-heels Jaemin he’d witnessed just a couple of days prior. “But it didn’t work out that well with her, so here I am, ready for the punishment.”

It struck Jaemin’s chest more times that could count, slashing at his heart, his pride, everything he loved. How could he be so foolish? Convincing himself his simple crush could ever reciprocate his feelings. Could ever love him back. Nevertheless, it was more clear now than ever before. To you, he would always just have one label; a simple roommate.

“Jaemin-” Donghyuck reluctantly brushed his palm on Jaemin’s shoulder, his best excuse for a peace offering. Jaemin, however, finally snapped, shooting a glare through the eyes of his rather persistent friends.

“What? You were right, okay? I can’t get any girl I want. I really am just a coward, so I deserve this!” Jaemin slumped his figure一drenched in a sorrow he’s gotten quite familiar with, as of late一into a cheap, cafeteria chair, his heart leaping through his throat.

“She was the only one I wanted, anyway, so what’s the point?”

“I think you got a few things wrong there, buddy.” A familiar voice rang through Jaemin’s ears. The whites of his eyes spilled out of their sockets as Jaemin shot up. You couldn’t blame him, though. The last thing he expected to see was his childhood classmate, Huang Renjun, before him. “You still have a chance with y/n, Jaemin.”

Jaemin sent a rough hiss at Renjun before slowly backing down at Renjun’s unnaturally calm demeanour. “What?”

“I’m not after her anymore, nor is she after me.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Then why-”

“It was an accident, we didn’t mean to meet up like that. And that talk at the cafe? It was all for closure. It was something she and I both needed, a lot, if I might add.”

“So… you weren’t trying to get her back?”

Renjun squinted at the utter dumbassary currently blinding him at the moment. “No, are you stupid? I have a girlfriend. And besides, when she first saw you barge into the cafe, her flustered reaction tells me she feels the same way, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Heat rushed over to Jaemin’s cheeks, the cause being a 50-50 blend of pure embarrassment一from letting his jealous heart take over his mind一and the simple, but beautiful thought of you. Everything started to fall back in their rightful places. His head was finally cleared, his anger had finally wisped away. And more importantly, you were moment’s away from being his. Moments away from retiring the ‘roommate’ label.

Donghyuck leaped from his seat. A directing hand pointed towards the dance department wing as Donghyuck shifted into his ‘fight or flight’ stance, riling up with energy. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR? CONFESS!!”

Without any further hesitation, Jaemin shot from his seat, his eyes etched with determination, and his heart moments away from bursting through his chest. Donghyuck let out a defeated sigh, arms crossing in disappointment. “God, I can’t believe the campus playboy is such a wuss!”

...

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin. It also didn’t matter that you spent a whopping one night without his bedroom just across the hall from yours; as your heart was still drenched in the guilt you couldn’t seem to get rid of. However, one thing was made clear that night. Your heart purely and utterly belonged to Na Jaemin alone. Only one thing stayed in your way; he may more may not hate your guts now.

Your palms dripped in a cold sweat as your limbs begrudgingly swam in the air. It was bad enough your dance instructor gave not one, but two lectures about getting distracted to blow your ears dry, but even after that public display of embarrassment, your head couldn’t stop recounting the different ways you could finally tell Na Jaemin the truth; the whole truth.

I want the real thing with you

I don’t just want something fake, Jaemin

I wanna be with you

That last statement threw your cheeks into a heated, rosy frenzy. You cup your hands attempting to hide your horrid thoughts as your dance instructor, with a few deadpan words, sets your class free for the evening. You scurry to the corner, peacefully shoving your things into your bag when Shotaro’s voice suddenly rings behind your ear.

“Y/n? Oh yeah, she’s right over there.”

“Great, thanks.”

You freeze on the spot. You could recognize that voice from a mile away. It was almost concerning on your part.

“Y/n!” The voice yelps, in a tone you hadn’t heard in a while. You smile under your breath. You missed his cheerful voice. You slowly prop up, dropping your bag to the depths of the dance room floor. You pivot on your heel, your chest coming face to face with none other than Na Jaemin, in the flesh. “I need to tell you something.”

After scrambling out of the dance room, certainly not attracting the attention of any unwanted instructors, the two of you hide behind the studio entrance. Jaemin stood just centimeters before you, his breath shivering despite the warmer weather. Although, and you wouldn’t be surprised, but this warm sensation could simply be deriving from your cheeks, which was nothing new.

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you yesterday, I never wanted to be mean to you or anything, I was just… heated, yeah.” Jaemin finally began, scratching the nape of his neck. You didn’t like the fact that he was the one apologizing to you, when you knew it should’ve been the other way around. “You don’t need to say sorry, Jaem. I lashed out too and-”

“I was being all selfish, when I really should’ve been thinking clearly. I-I was jealous when I saw you two together, and I couldn’t take it.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Jealous? He was jealous?

“Truth is… I’ve liked you for some time now, probably ever since we first met. And while the fake date was really fake…” His eyes finally lock yours up, keeping them hostage in his determined glare. “...I really wanted something real between us.”

Jaemin’s hand reached down, cupping your nimble fingers in it as he kept his eye contact tight. His breath hitched as he eyed you, all flustered and adorable with your eyebrows furrowed in a hopeful confusion. Everything about you made him want to cradle you in his arms, never letting go, forever.

“Can I be more than just your roommate, y/n?”

You stayed frozen, mouth gaping wide open at every confession he threw at you. You stayed so still, the only thing visibly moving on your body was the rapid blush zooming through your ears and cheeks, except this time, you didn’t feel the sudden urge to hide such a sensation. Your mind didn’t carry the necessary brian capacity properly function, so naturally, your arms did the job for you.

Your palms cupped the edges of Jaemin’s jaw, a sudden confidence surging through you as you pulled him closer. The tips of your noses collide moments before the surfaces of your lips. You melt into a passion filled kiss, a kiss that’s been pending since the day you first moved in together. Jaemin hugs the small of your waist as you hug his neck. Instinctively, your stomach tucks itself, hiding the embarrassing butterflies fluttering within it. You felt like a celebrity, kissing the campus’ pretty boy; Na Jaemin. Your eyes flicker open.

“Of course you can.”

Your’s and Jaemin’s world crashes back into reality at the sound of a pestering holler, one which Jaemin could only sigh in grief to in response. You turn around only to find a snooping crowd right behind you. Shotaro, joined with two of Jaemin’s friends you first met at the restaurant; Yangyang and Donghyuck, jump for joy at the sight of you two, while a distressed Hina rips her hair out at the fact that she missed the most world shattering confession scene known to man. Jeno, to the right of her, calms her down in a heartbeat. Those two were really perfect for each other. You turn back to Jaemin, a wide grin now taking over his face. He tightens the grip around your hand, a hand that you noticed he’s never let go since he first arrived at your department.

“Do you have another class after this?” “No, why?”

A sly smirk lines his lips as he raises an eyebrow. “Then, shall we go home, darling?”

Gosh, he was such a dork. “Of course.”

…

The long awaited kiss between Hina and Jeno was much more dramatic than any first kiss you could’ve imagined. In fact, it was practically ripped right out the current episode of the drama you and Jaemin had settled down to watch. The air was filled with cheerful hollers roaring from Yangyang and Shotaro and the pathetic wails of Donghyuck realizing that一with Shotaro’s crush on the new girl on campus and the random girl Yangyang met online一he would be the last one standing in the terribly single committeeTM. Jaemin grumbled beside you, his head tucked under your chin as you sat cradled in his arms

“Jeez, Jeno’s stealing my thunder!”

“Let them live, Jaem. They’re in love.”

Jaemin huffed with over exaggeration. “I can’t believe Jeno would betray me like that!”

You pulled Jaemin’s chin up, his face now inches from yours. “Why don’t you forget about them, alright? Just focus on me instead.”

The two of you lean into a kiss, basking in the afternoon sunlight that was peeking through the campus roof. It didn’t matter who was around you anymore, whether they were random strangers or your annoying yet close knit friends. You had already won at life, being the girlfriend of the infamous Na Jaemin; your very special roommate.

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landshirt9 · 2 years

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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hi i know it's been the hottest of seconds but director's cut for the prophetic spring if you're still doing these? 👀

Sure! I’ve spoken a lot about the prophetic spring, but I’m fairly certain I could give some meta information about my intense life-long obsession with Tim Drake. Dude has been showing up in my fics since I was 14.

But actually, the ficlet I wrote ages ago might be more interesting? So here it is. Exploring a dynamic that was WAY underserved for how important it is: the Steph, Cass, Tim dynamic!

No CW that haven’t appeared in the prophetic spring, but specific mention for drug addiction and drug depiction, as well as references to molestation, abortion, torture, and suicide. Story under the cut.

Tim stared down into the toilet bowl. It was a little yellowed. He needed to clean it.

He stared at the small baggie of pills in his hand.

He visualized dropping it into the bowl, flushing it. Possibly mutating an alligator, or giving the race of mole people that lived in the Gotham sewers a nice surprise.

Tim sighed, and pocketed the drugs. Maybe tomorrow.

A month after the incident with a runaway foster kid and a, in retrospect, kind of embarrassing fake fight with his older brother, Tim got a text from an unknown number. To make matters worse, it was at an insane hour of the day - noon.

Texts from strangers were hardly uncommon. Tim had an extensive contact network, growing larger by the day, but he had set up a Google Voice on his computer so they were all routed through a program there. Being bothered at all hours of the day on his phone was hardly his idea of a good time. The only people who really had his real number were his bullshit ‘friends’ and his asshole ‘family’. He hadn’t even given his number to his ‘friends’ - he had given it to Kon under strict confidentiality, and then Kon had given it to all of Young Justice. Asshole.

405-555-1998: dropping by in three hours so make sure ur presentable :)

As Tim had just woken up, most of his brain was occupied by a single whuh?

Just as his mind swirled in sleepy confusion, his phone buzzed again.

405-555-1998: B1706XQE45

The code checked out. It was an ally, not an unknown or an enemy.

Tim groaned, covering his eyes with an elbow. He needed coffee.

****

The coffee was a new thing - rather, it was something he had drunk plenty of growing up, because there had been nobody around to inform him that coffee was bad for developing brains. Growing up completely unsupervised was probably why Tim was a drug addict now. He could totally blame this on his parents never loving him.

Not a drug addict, Tim thought to himself anxiously as the coffee sputtered into the extra large gallon pot. Just someone who...uses drugs...in an unhealthy way. Substance abu - substance user, who just used it maybe as a bad coping mechanism. Not that Tim had good coping mechanisms, but it was better than sawing off heads or becoming a drug lord. When you thought about it, it was either being a serial killer or doing drugs, so logically it means that he should do more drugs to decrease the amount of fun little murders he does -

Tim made toast.

The coffee was a new thing, because he was trying to use it to replace the drugs. He had cut back. The stupid little sorority that called themselves the Birds of Prey had been talking to him about it. He had agreed to try. It was best to set expectations low, so he couldn’t disappoint. Actually, Tim loved disappointing, maybe he should set them higher. Maybe he could make inspirational speeches about how he was a good guy now? Ha ha.

The three hours had been a deft move. The texter knew noon was his average wake-up time at best, and the three hours gave him enough time to sober up if he had been high or drunk at the time. Tim didn’t like to start popping the minute he woke up, but - well, sometimes he did. Or sometimes he was awake at noon because he had been on an all-nighter drug binge. They hadn’t given their name, either, which meant that it was somebody who he wouldn’t want to see.

He could bounce, escape to some corner of Gotham until they gave up. Except he had the sense that whoever had gone through the effort to get his number wasn’t the type to give up. Almost nobody Tim knew was the type to give up. His ‘friends’ and his ‘family’ never gave up. On anybody but him.

A voice in his head, not quite yet suffocated, sounding altogether too much like the Replacement, echoed in endless attempts to get him to come back. Oh, whatever. Kid was a try-hard. He needed better taste in made up families.

Over the next three hours, he debated his tactics. If he wasn’t escaping and the texter was playing the buddy card, then the situation probably wasn’t dangerous. He strapped in his armor under the baggy pyjamas that he never took off anyway, and spitefully made no effort to control his hair. He did put on make-up, an old hand from keeping CPS off Bruce’s trail - man, he should have pretended Bruce was molesting him, that would have been funny as fuck - to hide the bags under his eyes. No use looking pathetic.

He hid a few more weapons around his apartment. He anxiously checked his phone, staring not at the new texts but at Harley’s offer sent a week ago. He still hadn’t replied. He didn’t know what to do with it.

As if he could ever feel safe sleeping under the same roof as her?

As if he ever felt safe anywhere?

Maybe he had nothing to lose. That was the greatest part about this, the most wonderful aspect of what he had done to everybody in his life. When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. That’s freedom, or so Janis had always told him. She knew what she was about. Overdosing on heroin at 27 - that was understanding what it meant, to have nothing. To be free. He was almost jealous.

At two on the dot, a polite knock echoed through the apartment. Tim looked up from where he was relaxing on the couch, with all of the possible entry points in his line of sight. That wasn’t a knock he had memorized, and he had memorized everyone’s knocks.

Nothing for it. He’d have to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Maybe he can pull the insane sociopath schtick again; that had always been effective in ditching his parents. Tim sighed, walked over to the door, swiped his thumb against the keypad, undid the three deadbolts, and opened door only to see -

Stephanie Brown, hands propped on her hips and smiling widely. Cassandra Wayne, standing right behind her, serene as ever.

Tim closed the door - or he tried. Steph had expected the move, and the minute he had opened the door her foot had jutted out and blocked him from closing the door. Effortlessly, she wrenched it back open and stepped into his apartment, forcing him to press against the wall and scowl as insane women infiltrated his space.

“Wow,” Steph said loudly, “this place looks like a wreck!”

Tim groaned.

***

The thing with Steph and Cass was this:

How to describe it?

The sister he had never expected, the best friend he had never thought he would have. Cass was his twin, Robin’s shadow, the other side of his mountain. Bruce had adopted Cass barely five months after he became Robin, and Tim had unabashedly resented her for stealing Bruce’s attention so quickly. He had always liked her more, but Bruce had liked everyone more than Tim, so maybe it was no surprise. She was sweet, kind, gentle, and no trouble. Tim wasn’t any trouble either, but he couldn’t be the rest of it if it bit him in his ass.

Robin was the brain. Cass was the muscle. They were a team so closely linked, conjoined at the hip, that Tim couldn’t remember a patrol ever done without her. Bruce had let them start patrolling alone at fourteen (“You didn’t let me work alone until I was fifteen, and I was an assassin,” Damian had spat), and they had been an unbeatable team. Robin’s hand-to-hand was weak, but nobody ever got through Batgirl. Batgirl struggled with technical knowledge, reading and writing and investigating and chasing down leads, the only area where Tim had ever excelled. Together, they had almost been as good as Batman. Sometimes, Tim had let himself think that they might be better.

They had been so similar. Everyone had always said so. They’re both so quiet, the Justice League had said. Emotionless little freaks, the Rogues had said. Neither of them blink, their schoolmates had said. But there had been nothing to say, not between them: they could have a conversation without words, without even Sign. Cass had known every twitch of Tim’s body, had understood him down to his core. Nobody else ever had. Everybody had always called Tim inscrutable and impossible to understand - but to Cass, Tim had been an open book. She knew every inch of him. And she had loved him anyway.

And Steph! When Steph had found them when they were fourteen veering on fifteen, and from then on it was as if she had always been there. She was so big, so smiling, so much, and she had never apologized for any of it. Nothing scared her. To Tim, that was the perfect vigilante - somebody who was scared of nothing, who never hesitated, who was good.

Not even Bruce could intimidate her. When Tim was fourteen, he had thought that was the most amazing thing in the world. Bruce intimidated everyone, but Steph had just stuck out her tongue and kept badly backflipping off roofs anyway. Through twin convincing, Tim and Cass had convinced Bruce to give her a chance, and Spoiler had slot into their dynamic perfectly. She was their best friend, always.

She wasn’t good at hand-to-hand at first, but Tim had improved by then, and they could cover her. She improved faster than he had, and judging from the reconnaissance footage Tim had frantically consumed after he came back to life, she was amazing now. She was wickedly smart, practical and down to Earth. If Tim was better at hacking into a computer, Steph was the one who found the post-it note with the password stuck under the desk.

But more than any of that, she had brought the social skills. She had brought the calming presence, the sweet hand to victims and civilians, and her good humor was infectious. Steph was good with people. She was a born leader. Resilient. Brave. Everybody liked her. Everybody loved her. Tim had. She had loved him too. She could have done so much better than Tim and Cass, weird little societal rejects, but she had chosen them as her family.

It had been the three of them. For as long as Tim’s life had meaning, for as long as he had been loved, they had loved him. Tim had grown up alone, in a world of one, and they had infiltrated it. They had expanded it, and they dragged his life into more than just Tim. Into Tim-and-Cass-and-Steph. Into Robin-Batgirl-Spoiler. Into meaning, and love.

Tim hated them. And he wanted them to suffer.

“That’s the Stephanie Brown I remember,” Tim sneered, closing the door behind him. Steph had quickly thrown herself onto Tim’s couch, clearly somewhat surprised at how comfortable it was, and Cass had perched daintily on the arm. Cass had always refused to sit like a normal person - she would rather sit on the backs of sofas, or on the arm, or perched on chairs like a bird - “If I had known you were coming I would have jumped cities.”

“We would have chased you down and you know that,” Steph said cheerfully, like she said fucking everything. “Besides, if you had known we were coming you would have gone into witness protection. You’ve been avoiding the fuck outta us.”

“Wonder why,” Tim said, injecting as much mean-spirited sarcasm into his voice as possible. “I need more coffee, don’t go through my shit.”

The apartment was small, and the kitchen had a cut-away wall where he could see through into the living room. Stephanie hated nothing more than being ignored or looked down upon, and if he dismissed her and didn’t react then she’d grow infuriated with him and leave. He couldn’t fight with her, because if it came down to a battle of rhetoric or emotions she’d win single-handedly. She was so good with words. Cass...had no weaknesses.

Which was inconvenient, because it was Cass he absolutely had to get rid of as soon as possible. She was very emotional, and more than a little sensitive. Especially to rejection. If he was cruel enough to her, she’d start crying and leave. There was only one problem with that.

As he jammed more grounds into the machine he watched the girls out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t talking or whispering to each other, both fully aware of how well Tim could read lips. They weren’t even having one of those body language conversations they could only have with each other, aware that Tim could crack that too. Instead Stephanie was casually sprawled on his couch, looking for all the world like a middle aged dad watching the football game, looking around the room. Cass, as usual, was zoning out. Or, of course, looked like she was zoning out - Tim could tell that she was waiting for something to happen, and was preparing herself for it.

Shit. Tim fought the urge to gnaw on his fingernail. Cass was going to be a problem.

He risked another glance backwards. She could see him, so she knew. Fuck. He had never been on the other side of her mind reading. It was fucking inconvenient. Psychics should be shot on sight.

The coffee sloshed into the biggest cup he could find in his kitchen, and Tim began draining it immediately as he leaned over the cutaway. He kept the cup held up to his face, obscuring it. Face covered, everything under the elbows covered - best he could do without preparation.

“This little field trip sanctified by Sgt. Brother?” Tim asked, sipping the scalding hot coffee. Not hot enough. He needed - he needed - they’d see -

“We’re nineteen, we don’t need his permission for everything we do,” Steph said, amused. So she was going to speak for Cass - hardly unusual, as whenever they were all together Steph tended to be the only one who spoke - but seeing as Tim was Tim then it was definitely a strategy.

“He lets his precious baby sisters knock on the door of drug lords for fun?” Tim sneered.

“If they’re incompetent and retired, sure!”

Tim gritted his teeth. Don’t rise to her bait. Don’t. She was the best person in the family at getting a rise out of their enemies. He didn’t stand a chance.

“What do you want?”

“We thought we’d take you roller skating at the rink,” Steph chirped.

Tim stared at her.

“Or the pool,” Steph said, faux-thoughtfully. “Or just the mall?”

Fuck this. Tim headed for the door, ready to walk out of the building barefoot in his pyjamas. He tugged at the doorknob, only to find that it wouldn’t open.

Tim breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth. There were other exits. He was not trapped. Had his apartment always been so small? He could have sworn that it was bigger.

He turned around slowly. Stephanie was grinning at him, twirling what looked like a small plastic cylinder. Tim recognized it instantly - fancy League tech. Overrides all electronic locks and controls them. They all used it to trap perps and heighten their fear tactics. Tim jammed his thumb on the keypad. Nothing happened.

Cass glanced at Steph, and made a small motion. Tim couldn’t interpret it. Why couldn’t he interpret it? Did they have a new code? It was Cass. When nobody else had understood her, Tim always had. Now they had their own language, one that Tim couldn’t interpret anymore. Tim was lost in translation, always drifting.

“We aren’t bringing you in,” Steph said, just as light as ever. No trace of pity or caution or gentleness in her voice: just relentless cheer. “Literally all we want to do is talk. Play a board game, maybe?”

Tim’s eyes flickered to the hidden panel in the wall next to him where he had stashed a gun and a sword.

“Bro,” Steph said, “you really don’t want to escalate this.”

“Do you think you can take me?” Tim asked curiously, letting his hand drift to his arm. He shook his long pyjama sleeve down to cover his wrist. “That’s pretty cute. Last time I checked, you’re the shittiest at hand-to-hand in your team.”

But Steph just rolled her eyes. Shit, wasn’t he supposed to be ignoring her? He couldn’t, not so long as she kept pushing and pushing. Not so long as she was in his house. “Leave off. Just because Jay and I are the last people in the fam who weren’t trained in Mystical Ninja Arts doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. Hands in the air, by the way.”

Stephanie was overly sentimental. New tactic. He raised his hands slightly in the air, caught reaching for the weapon hidden in his armor. “Incompetent enough to let me die.”

There. Finally. Thank god, Tim thought he was losing his touch. The muscles clenched in Stephanie’s jaw, and just a twitch of her eye - banishing a bad memory. “Everybody’s been saying you’ve turned rude. I guess you’ve just been avoiding us because you don’t want to hurt our feelings, right?”

“I didn’t remember a lot when I was first resurrected,” Tim said casually, despite the fact that he had never told anybody about the first awful six months. Something about Steph and Cass just pried it out of him, like invasive surgery. Or an autopsy. “I remember everything about those six months, though. Homeless. Practically retarded. Brain damage does that to you, you know. I lived on the streets, did you know that? It was a miracle I lived through it.” He gasped, as if he was remembering something. “I slept on 34th street! You lived near there, didn’t you? Maybe you even walked by me.”

Steph went white. Cass’ expression froze. He was pushing hard, but these two wouldn’t react to anything less. Steph could trade barbs better than he could, even now.

“It’s a good thing Talia found me,” Tim continued. “She was the only one who cared.”

That did it. Steph tensed, leaning forward, and even Cass stiffened. “Is that what she told you? How can you believe her?”

Tim just shrugged, walking back to the kitchen and hiding his body language again. He took an extra loud slurp of the coffee, just to be annoying. “Talia never lied to me. She said that nobody cared enough to save me. And guess what!”

Steph’s jaw clenched again. She was a hot head. A fierce temper, an impulsive girl who jumped in feet first and sanity second. Woman, now. When had that happened? “Cut that shit out. We all know what you’re doing. You’ve been doing it to everyone. Did you think Connor didn’t warn us?”

Snitch. Tim slurped his coffee again. “Connor’s been telling everyone to give me space.”

“Yeah, everyone but us.” She stood up now, ignoring the flicker of a frown on Cass’ face, and folded her arms. A challenge against the world. Against Tim. It didn’t matter. “You don’t believe half the shit you’re spewing. You’ve never believed your own bullshit, Tim. You’re just saying it to drive everybody away. It’s not going to work on us.”

“Why?” Tim asked innocently. “You’re too thick?”

“Because we love you!” Steph cried. Tim rolled his eyes. As if he hadn’t heard that one before. “Saving Richie proved it, you aren’t as insane as you keep pretending you are. You know what you’re doing is wrong, you just don’t care.”

“Wow, you caught me.” Tim took another long swig of his coffee. It was making his hands jittery. Good. “Local genius aware of his actions. Call the press. Call Uncle Clark, he needs a scoop.” He arched an eyebrow at Steph. She hated that expression of his - she had always found it so aristocratic and pretentious. Joke’s on her, he was pretentious. “Do you mind if I go do a line? I’m not high enough for this conversation.”

If she had told him who she was, he would have done a line anyway just to spite her, and she knew it. “You don’t want to try,” Steph said stubbornly, “but you’re trying. You don’t want to care, but you care. You don’t want to feel it, but it hurts so much you can’t bear it. You can’t get anything past us, Tim. It’s always just been us. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Doesn’t that mean -

“What that means,” Tim said, and he found the words scraping his throat. He found himself talking a little louder than he meant to. The coffee, you know. Made you jittery. “is that you should have saved me. If you loved me so fucking much, you would have been anything other than useless. You’ve always been the most useless girl in the world, Steph. You couldn’t save your crook of a dad or your junkie of a mom. You couldn’t save your baby and you couldn’t save me. You’re ghetto trash putting on airs, and everyone can smell it on you.”

As soon as he said it, he tensed. He shifted his stance, ready to throw the coffee and spill the scalding liquid on her. Obscure her vision. It would take a second for her to vault the cover, so he could duck down. From there he could get the gun, shoot the window, jump out the window. She couldn’t win. Tim had the most powerful weapon in the world in his disposal and that was his infinite, burning hate. His hate for Steph and Cass burned him to the ground, and his world with it, and he was going to burn them to cinders because he couldn’t do anything else.

But Steph didn’t move. Cass got off the sofa. She walked up to Steph, and gently pressed a hand on her shoulder. She squeezed. Steph exhaled, long and shaking, and nodded at Cass. She walked into Tim’s bedroom - hey! - and shut the door.

Then Cass stared at Tim, and there was no more need for words. Not between them.

Tim vaulted the cut away wall, aiming for her feet first. Cass didn’t dodge - that would imply that she moved like an object moved. She moved like water moved - swift and supple, with such infinite grace and precision that it was like she wasn’t human at all.

But he had gotten better. He didn’t spend two and half years trained by the League of Assassins in crochet. Tim lashed out with a foot, she dodged again. He threw a punch, she moved. He feinted, clearly leaving her an opening, and she didn’t take it.

Bitch.

Cass shoved away his coffee table, sending it skidding across the floor and opening the floor space. The rug became their arena, tight and intimate, no room for maneuverability. Tim acted and she reacted, Tim lashed out a sweep kick and she jumped over it, Tim tried to grapple and she broke his hold. She never threw him to the ground, never pinned him. She just moved.

She was good, but not good enough to toy with him and win completely. The way to win against Cass was to leverage your height - Tim was taller than he once was, although that wasn’t saying much - weight, and strength against her. A couple good hits and she was down.

The issue, of course, was hitting her.

He got a hit in. It was much easier when she wasn’t even fighting back. She rolled with it effortlessly, taking the impact to gain a little space between them. She breathed deeply, sweat rolling down her neck. Tim used to take a cold compress and press it to that neck. She used to smile at him. Thank you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said.

“Too bad,” Tim said.

Fights weren’t like in television, long and choreographed extended scenes to entertain and thrill. When Ro - Tim was in a fight, a real fight, it was typically finished in less than a minute. The only way that a match can get long is if the other person was deliberately tiring you out - a risky strategy - or if you were of completely equal strengths with similar fighting styles. Or if it was a spar.

As Tim tried to hit her again and again, he realized that it was a spar.

No, not even that. It was a conversation.

Tim grabbed her wrist, and said: I want you to hurt. Cass broke the hold, telling him that he can’t. Tim leveraged the motion and kneed her in the back, telling her that the only goal of this fight was pain. Cass let the impact take her down to the mat, an incredibly disadvantageous position, but rolled out of the way just as Tim tried to exploit the opportunity. I’m not scared of you. Tim hit again, and again, and again, failing every time. I want you gone, Tim said, and this is the only way I know how to do it.

This is what Tim said: as much as I once loved you, I now hate you. The infinite depths of my love, my twin sister, how we moved in perfect sync. I hate it all. As much as I cared, I now hate. Feel this hate. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass said.

They moved in perfect sync, even now. Cass couldn’t predict his movements before he made them, like she used to - his training was different now, developed and refined. But Cass knew the League of Assassins too, had been trained by them just as he had, and they were written into her bones when they were only carved into Tim’s. After his third patented Talia move, she adjusted to fit his style, and their fight metamorphosed into more of a dance. Like they used to.

“Why not!” Tim screamed, the stupidest possible thing to do in a fight, but Cass didn’t take advantage of his exhale. He lashed out a fist to cover the opening, but it was lazy and over-extended, and she dodged easily. “I’m going to kill you!”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tim desperately tried to call the green to his vision. It was so easy. All he had to do was tap into that rage. Talia had called it blood lust. Said it was normal, even good. But it wouldn’t come. Where was it? It was his only friend.

Desperately, Tim went in for another punch to the face - Cass’ jaw was the weakest part of her body, an old injury - but he over-extended again, and this time Cass took the opportunity. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, dropping him to the mat. She didn’t try to twist him around, instead landing him on his back. Bad move for her.

She kneed him in the chest, putting her full hundred and thirty pounds on him. She twisted his hands behind his back, pinning him, and Tim could do barely more than wheeze.

He looked at her in the eyes for the first time. They were infuriatingly calm. Her hair was tangled and clumped with sweat, but she wasn’t breathing hard. Her expression was placid and serene, as if she was watching one of her stupid fucking nature documentaries instead of pinning her brother to a hard and scratchy rug in a shithole apartment, three years after he was tortured to insanity and shot himself in the head.

So much time had passed. So much had happened, nasty and festering and putrid, and Tim had let it happen. He had made it happen. There was a rot in Tim, and it had eaten him up until there was nothing inside. If you cut him open, would it spill out? Would it infect her, infect Steph? Could he make them suffer?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Cass repeated. “So don’t be scared.”

“Scared?! I’m not fucking -” Tim wheezed, cut off by the lack of air as Cass pressed down.

“I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. But I did. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill -”

Cass pressed down on his chest again, cutting him off. She had finally done the one thing nobody in Tim’s life had ever figured out: how to make him shut up. “You can be as mean to me as you want. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll stay.”

Tim wheezed. In that, maybe, Cass heard something, because she continued as if he had spoken. Or maybe she just wanted the chance to talk. It had been stolen from her for thirteen years, and it was valuable to her.

“You do not have to be kind. You do not have to hug me, even if I want you to. You do not have to be my brother. I know it hurts too much. But you are me. I am you. You do not even have to try for that. I do not have to give it to you. You have it.”

Tim couldn’t help it. He cried a little, and then he couldn’t stop.

Cass got off him, but she kept her promise. She didn’t hug him. She just propped him up against the sofa, holding his hand, and didn’t speak. At some point the door creaked, and he felt Stephanie next to him.

This is why, Tim thought hysterically, he had been avoiding them.

He knew this would happen. There was no hiding from Cass. There was no posturing, no pretending. She didn’t want anything from him. She never had. There was nothing he could say that would drive her away, because Cass did not listen to the words people spoke. She spoke only for clarity, when she could not afford for her words to be misconstrued, and for the comfort of others.

Cass knew that he had been lying out of his ass. Cass knew that he wasn’t as insane as he pretended, as cruel as he wanted to be.

He couldn’t make Cass hate him. Shit.

None of them said anything. Nothing needed to be said, not between the three of them. Cass might be having a silent conversation in Sign with Steph, but he didn’t care enough to open his eyes and look. When they had first met, it used to make Steph so mad that Tim and Cass were having ‘secret conversations’. She had poured over her dictionaries, learning as quickly as physically possible so she could keep up. Everything Steph had, she had worked hard for.

Steph was in college now. Premed. She wanted to be an ER doctor. Steph wasn’t a genius, she had to study hard. She wouldn’t be able to superhero in med school, so she was ready to hang up her cape for a few years until she achieved her dream. Steph said that she could do just as much good as a doctor as a superhero. She hadn’t always wanted it. When they were kids and Bruce used to ask her what she wanted to do when she grew up, in his awkward faux-dad way, she had always shrugged and said that she might be a nurse.

“Why not med school?” Bruce had suggested, between sleepy spoonfuls of oatmeal. She used to spend more nights at their place than at her own. Her mom hadn’t noticed.

Steph had just shrugged awkwardly, nibbling her whole-wheat organic toast that she would stare at suspiciously. Rich people, she would say, sighing. “I would never be able to afford it. And no way I’m smart enough.”

“You’re good enough,” Bruce said, which was the closest he ever came to praising somebody. “I’ll pay for it.”

Steph had gaped. Cass had eaten her Lucky Charms smugly. Tim had rolled his eyes. “An in-the-know doctor for the vigilante community would be invaluable,” he had informed her, pretentious and callous. “We could use you.”

“You deserve it,” Cass had signed.

“You have a bright future, Stephanie,” Bruce said, buckling under the panic of being a responsible adult. “I would hate to see you waste it.”

He would hate to see any of them waste their future. He had hated to see what Tim had become. He knew that. The last time he had ever seen Bruce, it was just to disappoint him. Bruce was the only parent he had ever had, and his standards were so sky high it was impossible to do anything other than disappoint.

The fact of the matter was this: he loved Cass and Steph more than he loved Bruce. He could hate Bruce. He could hate himself. But Cass and Steph…

Bruce had ear-marked a lot of money for Steph, both for whatever continuing education she chose and for her future. It had raised a lot of questions among the lawyer team, but ultimately she had been written off as another of his strays. Tim had left her a lot of money too. There probably wasn’t any point: when she married Cass she’d have equal access to the fortune. Rich people, Stephanie used to whisper in awe, looking at organic toast.

Cass was majoring in dance. She wanted to be a ballerina.

Tim’s future...Tim’s future…

“Or we can watch a nature documentary,” Steph said out loud. “If we all promise not to say a fucking word.”

Incredibly, unmistakably, irrevocably, Tim groaned. “Not the fucking bee one again.”

“I like the bees,” Cass said serenely.

“If you aren’t going to get out of my house can I at least smoke up?” Tim asked miserably.

“I brought gummy bears,” Steph said, chipper as ever, “which are way better.”

“I’m going to the fucking bathroom,” Tim grumbled, which everybody knew was as good as a yes.

“If you take anything I’ll know,” Cass said serenely, and also threatened.

“Fuck you, bitch.”

Steph and Cass high-fived, and Tim sulked angrily to the bathroom. He took a second to look at himself in the mirror - looking for Tim Drake, failing, as always - before opening it and grabbing his baggie of pills.

He looked at it. He looked at the toilet. He looked at the baggie.

He didn’t flush them. He put them back in the medicine cabinet. Tomorrow. He’ll do them tomorrow. Not today. He can hold out for 24 hours. It’ll be fine.

For a wild, stupid, insane second, Tim wondered if he could say that tomorrow too. If tomorrow he would look at them and say: maybe tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that…

If there was a future, for a fuck-up like him.

The faint strains of Cass’ stupid fucking bee documentary began playing through the thin walls of his shitty little apartment, and Tim turned out the lights of his bathroom and closed the door, locking it securely behind him.

#i write a lot of shit i don't post and i don't feel the need to post it a lot of the time #but sometimes im like. ah yeah that does exist maybe they'll care #my writing #tim drake #batman #batfam #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #do not FUCKING get met started on tim cass and steph im OBSESSED

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Intimate - John Wick x Reader (nsfw A-Z headcanons)

Word Count : Way too many. (little under 5K...im so sorry guys you know I have a problem)

Warnings : Smut. Fluffs.

Summary : All about your sex life with John :)

A/N : Requested by a few lovely anons! Did I forget a letter? Let’s hope not. Are these even headcanons cuz they’re so long??? These were tricky, I’m sorry if they kinda suck, it took me a hot minute into last night to complete them. Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated.🖤

A : Aftercare. (What he’s like after sex).

John has a heart of gold, despite his enthralling profession. Many think John can be stoic, cold, reserved, but you; you know John. After sex, John makes sure to keep you close, asking over and over to make sure you’re alright. He’d never hurt you, even if during the deed. For a moment, he rests his forehead against yours as you’ve both came together, eyes closed as he catches his breath, cock still buried deep in you. He relishes in the afterglow, your head on his chest as he holds you, bulky arms wrapped around your figure, every now and then he presses a kiss to your hair, sighing deep relief; contentment. Sometimes, you’ll lay there together, skin sticking from the heat, relaxing in the moment. John will pepper kisses over your temples, your cheeks, your hands, your wrists. Being quiet and reserved, it’s his way of letting you know how much he loves you, and how lucky he feels to be able to make love to you. Normally, he prefers being the big spoon after sex. But, he is human. Sometimes, he likes being held by you; finds it really cute when you try to wrap your much smaller limbs to his much larger body. If he’s been away for a while, he loves pillow talk, lost in the company of just him, and the woman he loves.

B : Body Part. (His favourite body part of yours).

John is a simple man. He adores each part of you, to him, you are the embodiment of perfect. If he had to choose, however, he loves your breasts. They provide a safe haven for him to nestle his head in during sex, especially if its missionary. When you’re on top, it turns him on immensely to see them bounce up and down, so full, so plump, swollen from pleasure. John loves hugging you from behind, whether it be in the morning in front of the washroom mirror as you’re just waking up, or as you’re getting dressed on the edge of your bed after some hot and passionate sex. Occasionally, he’ll trail his hands up, palms and fingers working your breasts, fondling, massaging as delicate kisses place themselves on your neck from his sultry lips. Of course, when he’s spoon fucking you, or has you bent over as he slams in from behind, he loves to reach forward and hold your breasts.

C : Cum.

John has a lot of cum, can you even be surprised though? You feel dirty admitting it, but you love his cum. It’s the most intimate form of him, and its reserved only for you. It’s quality seed as well; thick, succulent, creamy, perfectly glossed. It’s not a bad taste at all; a delicacy to your lips if you will. John has almost a primal need for his cum to be inside you when he finishes; he feels it where it belongs. Whether it be brimmed deep inside your cunt, or in your mouth after you’ve gone down on him. He’s never actually admitted it due to his slight shyness, but he loves when you swallow for him. Pulls his heart seams to know you love and trust him enough to do it. Part of the reason you’re on birth control is so he can come inside, you know how much he enjoys it, and how much he appreciates to feel all of you, without the barrier of a condom. The feeling, his orgasm hitting him as with the force of night to day, you tighten around him, feeling him spill inside you; it’s pure nirvana for him. Coming inside you makes him feel closer to you; something he always craves.

D : Dirty Secret.

John is away often, but that doesn’t mean your sex life dies for the time he’s away. John and you always want one another, crave each other. You take pictures for John often, some suggestive; his favourite black, lacy lingerie embellished on your satin skin, allowing little to his imagination, and some full and frontal nudes. You love to hear the way his breath hitches over the phone as you hit send, the way his raspy voice compliments you.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. So beautiful,” his coarse, yet velvety voice whispers, hand pulling out his girthy cock, that has already started to throb for you, from thousands of miles away.

What you don’t know though – John keeps each and every picture of you in an album on his phone, locked away where no one can find it, but him. He only does it because he knows you wont mind, those pictures are all for him, and you best believe he’s going to savour each and every one for as long as he can. They come in handy when he’s away and needs you; he can’t get off to anything else since but the thought of your heavenly body. You assume they just disappear in conversation overtime, so you take more for him, constantly replenishing his feed ;)

E : Experience.

John is experienced, in the sense that he certainly knows what he’s doing. He hasn’t slept with many people, his work made it tough, his attention and focus constantly diverted to it. You’ve been with John for many years now, but he is on the older side still. John has had a few flings over the course of his life, however, they never really meant much. With the very few times he has been with someone, it was merely because he needed someone to give him sweet, sweet relief. But when he met you, it all changed. With you, his experience comes in handy, because he always puts your needs before his. He pays close attention to what you want, always making sure to communicate.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” His hand moves to securely hold yours, letting you know he’s listening. “Harder, baby?”

John can effortlessly bring you to multiple orgasms during a session. His sturdy fingers, his veiny cock, his suave mouth, he knows how to use each tool to the best of it’s ability, for you. Of course, he’s willing to try anything new for you as well. You want to try a new position? He’s on it. Want him to pay attention to a certain part of your body? He’s already there.

F : Favourite Position.

Definitely depends on the mood, but he is simple and doesn’t try to be too adventurous. Normally, John prefers good old missionary. He likes the intimacy, holding onto your hips with your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close. His lips have easy access to litter slow, passionate kisses to your face, your neck, your chest as he pleases. However, John also appreciates a good ol riding as well from his baby, especially after a demanding job. During riding sessions, he indulges in you; being able to sit back and relax, your aching cunt bobbing up and down on him, your walls tightening around him, so perfectly soaked. The way he’s able to buck his hips up into you, to feel you deeper, the way he can hold you to his chest as you ride him, allowing him to speed up when he needs.

The sounds you let out drive him insane. Did I mention, he loves watching himself slip in and out of you, the way your glistening releases coat his thighs, slicking his pulsing cock. Sometimes, he likes taking you from behind, he enjoys the gorgeous view of your peachy ass for him, and the way you whimper when his balls slap into your skin, the sounds so delicious filling his ears. Doggy style is also a close favourite of his, more for days when you both crave a good, rough fuck that’ll clear any trace of stress.

He enjoys a good against the wall fuck as well, in the shower is always nice. There have been a few times, he’s came home, neither of you able to control as he pins you against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist with his cock pounding you into oblivion.

G : Goofy. (Is he serious in the act or goofy?)

John isn’t too too goofy in the moment, but he can be on some days. Although he finds sex to be a very intimate, serious act, he can’t help but giggle at how adorable you can get during foreplay. You make him smile, laugh, feel loved, valued. You make him happy, and that comes out during sex as well. He sees you smile, and he’s gone. It’s his favourite thing in the world. If something happens in the moment, such as your face turning red from a particularly loud and explicit moan, he can’t help but smile, giggling with you.

On days when he’s tired and just needs to feel you, he can be a bit more serious. You don’t mind though; on days such as those, you focus your entire attention on making him feel good anyway, you know he deserves it. In turn, John tries incredibly hard to make you come as many times as possible on those days as well, it gives him relief and makes him feel better to know his lady is being treated well, leaving little room for giggles and laughs in those sessions.

H : Hair.

John used to not care before he met you, but now, he makes sure to keep himself tame and trimmed for you. The mans beard is always on fleek, you best believe the same follows down under. He does keep his hair; he’s never been one for being clean shaven. You love going down on him, tasting him in your mouth. He doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable, so he makes sure to keep clean for you. It is a bit bushy, but he’s consistent with grooming.

I : Intimacy.

Sex is John’s way of showing you how much he loves you, and how much you mean to him. John hasn’t been with many women; he’s never really had time for sex before you. But now, now that you’re together, in love, sex is what keeps your love fresh, alive, keeps you close and vulnerable with each other. He takes his time with you, making sure to appreciate each part of you, and the alter that is your body. He’s tender, gentle, he loves to feed your self confidence.

He loves kissing you during the act, lips smothering you as his cock slips in and out leisurely. While he’s thrusting is usually when his lips leak with praise for you, how good you feel, how much he loves you.

“Fuck, Y/N…” your name glides off his tongue, smooth as honey. “You…you feel amazing, sweetheart.” He whimpers, cock grinding your G spot each time he thrusts. “So good, baby.”

Even when he’s pounding into you, thrusts hasty, profound; he’ll still make sure to hold you tight, whether it be your hips or your hand. Anywhere from eye contact, to forehead touching, to the cuddle sessions after - John likes to let you know that he’s there with you in the moment; there for you, as he’ll always be.

Till his last breath.

J : Jack off.

Only when he’s away from you. When you’re together, he doesn’t need anything but you to make him feel good. But his work calls for it, and you know there’s times where you need to be away from him. Of course, he loves to have you on the phone for him as he sits in the Continental hotel room, a completed job behind. His palm sloppily wraps around his base, pumping slow, thumb swirling his tip as precum seeps out to the sound of your voice.

“Are you touching yourself, John?” You purr, your own hand trailing suggestively close to your heating center. A mere moan escapes his lips, the sound of your voice enough to make him feel bliss. Twitching, shuddering, he throbs in his hand, movements picking up as he strokes, base to shaft, to tip, pumping, with images of you clouding his mind.

“I want you to come for me, John. Let it out, baby. Let me hear you.” You encourage, hearing his moans, gasps and grunts over the much too distant phone line.

K : Kinks.

John is calm and collected, yet still a little shy. You adore that about him, the way his gentle personality shies away from fully letting you know what he wants sometimes. Over the course of your relationship however, you’ve learned some of his preferred kinks, and you love using them on him, on days you lounge together and have time to really get down and dirty.

Due to his profession, John takes control too much in other aspects of his life. In bed, on days where you want to focus on making him feel good, John relishes in being submissive. He loves to let you take control of him, allow you to do what you please with him. It makes him feel vulnerable, helps him feel human to be at your mercy. He loves you, trusts you enough to let you have him this way. He’s into light bondage, he likes having his wrists restrained, although nothing too insane. He is a simple man after all. Marking is a huge turn on for him, he loves leaving hickies on your silky skin, your collarbones, loves having them on him in turn. He loves body worship, appreciating each inch of you as he trails his kisses down your breasts, your chest, your stomach, slowly inching down to the ache between your legs.

Although John isn’t huge on praise kink, you do like the way he blushes ever so slightly when you tell him how good he’s making you feel.

“John…” You moan, fingernails digging into his back. “You’re fucking me so…” Whimpering, you whine softly in his ear. “So good, Jonathan…don’t stop baby, please…” He picks up pace, husky tone letting out small, soft moans as he slips in and out, fueled by your praise.

L : Location.

John and you have a mission; to have sex in each part of your home. Although his favourite is your bed, it’s safe, familiar, allows you both to be free and active as can. A close second is the couch, usually because the couch means you’re on top of him, spread on his thighs as he thrust up into you, hugging your body close. Hot seat position sex is easier on the couch as well. Anywhere in your house is John’s preferred place, in the comfort of where you live in peace together, the gateway to the dream that is your connection. He’s had you in the shower, in all the rooms, even on the hood of his car in your garage.

The kitchen counter has been one of John’s favourites, assuming how often he has you whimpering for him on it. Fucking into you with your body propped on the counter? He’s a sucker for it. Being tall enough to reach your cunt standing, he props your leg against his torso and shoulder, holding it for support as your other wraps around his waist, watching himself glide in and out of you. it’s always rough on the kitchen counter, but you like it that way. He makes breakfast right after, returning the favour for letting him get one in before the start of the day.

M : Motivation. (What gets him going?)

John is always turned on by you, you never have to try to get him to want you. Perhaps that’s just how deep you both are smitten with each other. He loves when you wear lingerie for him, it gets him tenting in his pants, his cock rising to the mere sight of you embroidered in lace for him. Lingerie shopping with John is always tricky due to it, he’ll have his hands roaming each crevice of your body in the dressing room, lips leaving delicate, quiet kisses along the skimpy lace adorned on your breasts. Of course, he’s no help in choosing a piece. Everything is perfect on you through his eyes.

He has a sensitive neck and ears, so he loves when you whisper for him, in your oh so sensual voice, smooth and sugary.

He loves celebrating with you after a successful contract. What better way to wind down than buried deep inside your cunt, warm, wet, as if perfectly moulded for him. Sometimes, that’s what gets him through work. Knowing that soon, he’ll be in your arms, where you’ll make him feel so, so good.

N : No. (What he won’t do)

John would never, ever hurt you, even if you asked. With all the violence, the murder that lies on his fingertips, he feels guilt. He tries not to, but he feels guilt. You love him endlessly, and you know he fears causing you even the smallest amount of pain during sex. If you wince a bit too loud, he’ll immediately pause and ask if you’re okay. Even if its simply the bulk of his sizable cock making you feel pain when he first enters, he gets concerned, always holding off until you’re adjusted to him, nodding when you’re ready for him to move.

You have a fantasy of John face fucking you, his twitching length jammed inside your throat, lapping as much as you can with your cheeks hallowed. You know it would be pure bliss for him, they way you’d choke on his cock for him, allowing him to savour each inch of your wet, warm, tight mouth. John is still a bit scared, however. He almost doesn’t trust himself; he fears he’ll hurt you.

You’ll get there someday, though. As long as you keep proving to him that you trust him.

More than anyone, anything else in the word.

O : Oral.

Oral is one of John’s favourite parts of sex. He loves going down on you, and love’s having you go down on him. John is crazy good at eating you out, he has had tons of practice with you. The way you moan for him, fingers tangling his hair turns him on like crazy, it’s addicting. The mere sound of you, writhing, whimpering as he laps your nectar, tongue expertly flicking your folds, your clit, hands graciously soothing your thighs, your breasts; he thrives off all of it. You love the sound of his mouth eating you out as well, the slicking, the smacking, the wetness of two of his stocky fingers pumping you, the way you know they’re the sounds of him making you feel good. He flattens his tongue, spreading your folds, alternating between the perfect symphony of fast and slow licks, making sure to dot a few kisses to your center through the process.

Head from John is a dream. A sweet, sweet, beautiful dream; only you have the pleasure to drift in.

P : Pace.

John is a master of pace, another attribute that comes in handy from his work. He knows exactly what pace to use for exactly the type of fuck you’re going for. During proper sex, where you both can take your time, he’ll always start off close and sensual as you get used to each other. His generous length is thick, heavy, and always needs time to get used to as mentioned. Slow at first allows him to focus his attention on kissing you passionately as he glides his dick in and out, feeling each other close. Gradually, he’s unable to hold himself back. Not when your pussy feels so heavenly around him. He’ll get faster and faster, until the bed frame is creaking and the wall behind is being pounded into-much like you. John has the power to shake your entire body with his thrusts, always keeping sure to hold you secure. Often, John leaves you aching for hours later, sometimes into the next day.

Q : Quickie.

A good quickie is always delightful for the both of you. You crave each other so much, that quickies inevitably find their way into your daily lives together as you coexist. In the morning as you’re just waking up? John never says no to a good ol quick morning fuck in your bed, your soft morning voice moans causing his heart to flutter. At breakfast on the kitchen table? John wasn’t able to resist when you wore just his oversized shirt and a pair of panties. Sometimes a good ol quickie before bed helps him sleep better, and you never deny him when he asks for one. John can have trouble sleeping sometimes, so sex before bed helps him relax, wind down, and most of all,

feel good. Something he deserves.

R : Risk.

John is okay with taking risks, if you want to. He’s always looking for new ways to satisfy you in bed. If you want to try something new, he’ll always say yes for you. He trusts you, and you trust him, so experimenting can be nice sometimes. Sometimes, there have been instances where either he, or you don’t end up liking it, and it makes him a little upset. He doesn’t want to let you down.

You try out new positions all the time, the most recent being The Wheelbarrow. He loved it, the way your hands planted on the floor as he raised your hips to his cock, pounding, pelting into you from behind; your legs wrapped around him.

John likes thrill too, sometimes. He fantasizes about public sex, perhaps in the washroom of a restaurant or something, somewhere where the stakes are higher and you could get caught. He’d be extra cautious, of course. He’d never want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.

S : Stamina.

John can last decently long, long enough to make you cum. If it’s been a few weeks away from each other, and you haven’t been able to have sex in a while, his stamina increases and he can go for more rounds. There have been times where you’ve had to tap out on him as well, but he’s alright with it. He respects you way too much to make you give him sex when you don’t want to. On average, John can go for 2 rounds if you want him to, although most of the time, one is enough. John is the embodiment of quality over quantity; he fucks you so good, so well the first round, that you’re too sore for another, you’ve been completely satisfied.

“You got another one in you for me, princess?” John chuckles, your breathless body under him, coming down from your high with him still nestled between your legs. You look at him in disbelief almost, wincing when he removes his cock out of you, collapsing on the bed beside.

“Another one already?” You breath, running a hand over your sweaty forehead.

He softly smiles, leaning over to kiss your shoulder, his hand moving to lightly rub a few circles to your clit, building your anticipation again. “Give me a few minutes, sweetheart, I’m not done with you just yet.”

T : Toys.

He has no problem incorporating toys into the bedroom. Neither of you need them, but they do add some spice to your sex life. John isn’t too much of a tech guy, but he did spend hours on his laptop searching up the best vibrators to try out for you. John gets off seeing you get off, and pleasing you. Sometimes, he’ll use the vibrator on you before sex, allowing you to delve into oblivion. On nights when he’s away, he loves when you send him pictures of you using it on yourself; his cock wheezes to the sight of your dripping cunt at the mercy of a vibrator, knowing it makes you feel no where near as good as he does when he’s home. John is willing to try out more toys, and he’s open to the idea of you buying some for him as well. You mentioned a vibrating cock ring to him; (not that he needs it for the extra support), but more for the pleasure the vibrations could give to your sensitive nub and his balls when he’s fucking you. There’s a lot you want to explore with John, you want to find out what he’s into, what he may be fond of. He’s a tricky man to get a feel of since he’s always so focused on you.

U : Unfair.

“John…John please..” You wail, feeling him sink just his tip into you, before pulling back out, teasing. He smirks slightly, placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing to not even give you a proper kiss when all you want is for him to fuck you senseless. His fingers rub small circles to your clit, eliciting deep moans, yet he makes sure to keep them slow, light, enough to let you feel him on you, but not enough to let you feel relief.

You love edging each other, love building up each other’s orgasm to maximum potential. When you’re on top, you’ll halt movement, your hands planted to his chest as his palms hold your hips tight. He’s always panting under you, biting his lip with breathy moans falling as you start to move again.

He’ll tease you when he’s going down on you as well, leaving kisses to the insides of your thighs, close to your heat. You totally get him back, though, the way you wear very revealing shorts around the house the next day, making sure to bend over a little further when you reach down to pick a towel off the floor.

V : Volume. (Is he loud?)

You both can be loud, depending on the type of sex. If it’s just a quickie before bed, you both tend to stay a little quieter, reverting to small whispers of praise, soft, gentle moans into each other’s necks and ears. John’s voice is smooth, buttery, fine as velvet when he’s trying to be quiet, it makes your pussy quite literally tremble knowing you’re the reason those delicious, delightful sounds are leaving his lips.

When you’re having a proper, longer session of sex however, you both tend to get slightly louder than you mean to. You live alone together, in a reserved neighbourhood. John’s grunts and groans can get excessive when you clench around him, your screams of his name flood the bedroom walls when he’s expertly working you. Sometimes, with John, its far too difficult to hold back your cries and sobs, his balls slapping your core to his demanding pace, his breath tantalizing on your skin. Perfectly, he hits your sensitive nerve endings each time, your eyes fill with tears at how well he’s fucking you, loud gasps to each buck of his hips.

W : Wildcard. (Random headcanon).

John has needs – he has to masturbate when he’s away from you, but only to the thought of you, and the nudes you send him. They’re marvellous, but he wants more. John wants to record you having sex at least once for when he’s away. He misses you dearly, although the lonesome comfort of his stocky palm, coated with the blend of shea hand cream he carries with him show no comparison to your soaking cunt. A video of you unravelling for him will definitely elevate his lonely nights spent away from you in the hotel walls. He would never do it without your consent, so he’s made a mental note to ask you next time you get intimate. Phone sex with you is nice, and it gets home going so well. But the thought of the real deal, a video in which your moans can be heard, your beautiful pussy on display for him, would be divine.

X : Xray. (What’s going on in the pants)

John has a very generous load to offer. His cock is quite literally- fucking gorgeous. When you first saw it, your breath hitched. He’s above average, makes you swallow in anticipation when he’s fully erect for you. He has the perfect amount of girth, a few striking veins running down his shaft, and a very slight curve. His tip shows a blushy, rosy shade of dusty pink, and you can’t help but elicit a moan when droplets of his gleaming pre cum glide down the length of his cock, almost as if a delicacy made just for you to devour. John’s cock is the only to ever had made you feel completely full, completely fulfilled. Struck gold? Definitely.

In more ways than just one.

Y : Yearning.

John has a pretty high sex drive. He’ll never deny you, that’s for sure. You almost never deny him either, whether it’s when he’s tossing and turning in the middle of the night and you offer him a quick session to calm his nerves, or whether it’s in the middle of the day, when he craves to feel your body close. John would like to have sex every single day of the week, but he knows that’s not always what you want, and he respects that. You settle for 4-5 times a week, right in the middle so his needs are taken care of. Sometimes, when you’re not in the mood for sex, you’ll give him a blowjob because you want him to feel good.

That’s your man, and you know how to take care of him.

Although he would like to have sex everyday, he doesn’t ever resort to masturbating unless he’s away. If you’re there, he wants it from you, or not at all. He’d rather wait for you than whip one out alone, without the feel of your body to compliment it.

Z : Zzzz. (How quickly he falls asleep after).

John and you both need a good round of cuddling, just holding each other after sex to doze off. A good cuddle session is part of sex for you; it’s part of the aftercare, part of the intimacy. Value is so important in a relationship, and holding each other, even if it’s just him holding onto your hand on his chest as you lie in comfortable silence, coming down from your highs; it all allows you both to feel valued, appreciated. You both share a little bit of pillow talk, and get cleaned up before you can actually fall asleep. John is a well organized, clean man. He helps you wipe down, change, shower, whatever you need to do before you both retire to bed, your skin freshly peppered with the scent of the eucalyptus shower gel you always buy. He can fall asleep pretty quickly after that, nice and relaxed, gratified and content with the love of his life tucked securely in his arms. He loves it when you hold him and use his chest as a pillow, takes him out like a light to know you’re safe there with him. The clothes you ripped off each other before sex are still scattered on the floor.

“John?” You quietly whisper, arms wrapped around his core, his biceps holding you close to his chest. He stirs slightly, half dozed off already.

“Hmm?” He murmurs, ever so slightly, eyes closed with his heartbeat steady against your ear.

Giggling, you softly plant a gentle kiss to his chest, allowing your head back to rest on him. “Goodnight, I love you.” You whisper into the quiet of the night, sure he’d already drifted to dreamland. He doesn’t reply, until a few seconds later, his deep voice drifting,

in and out of consciousness.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

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vennilavee · 4 years

Text

to build a home - ch 3

from dusk till dawn

attack on titan masterlist

check out this story on ao3

Pairing: levi x reader (attack on titan)

Summary: a modern au where you and levi both work for the Survey Corps, a non-profit organization with a mission to help the youth of the Underground District.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, harassment, smut- 18+!!!

Word Count: ~8800

A/N: there is smut, mentions of harassment (in a flashback) and kenny makes an appearance! ENJOY THIS IS 18+

***

“Why do I have to go?” You groan, rubbing your face, “Isn’t it Hange’s turn to go? Or Levi’s? Anyone but me? Can’t we all go together?”

“I don’t think all of us need to go for this one,” Erwin offers, “And it would be a good learning opportunity for the new hires. You can pick one or two of them to accompany you.”

“Lucky me,” You mutter, glancing at Levi. He’s looking at you with a small upturned smirk, clearly gloating at Erwin’s specific insistence that you go.

“These are all the rich people that you have the most experience with,” Erwin explains and you groan again, “They’re your favorite people, remember?”

You glare daggers at him when he grins at you.

“So now I have to babysit the rich guys and the new kids?” You say without any real heat in your voice.

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Levi,” Erwin says, grin still plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

“God forbid,” You throw your hands up in the air, “We’re showing up in a limo and everything will be on the company card.”

“I expect nothing less,” Erwin confirms.

“Good, you know me so well.”

***

The door to Levi’s office is closed and locked, because you’re trying to convince him to come to the ball with you. Your eyes are dark and coy, lips only a breath away from his, and Levi could scoff. But he’s enjoying your groveling.

“You can hold your own with them,” Levi says, poking your forehead, “You know you can.”

“Of course I can,” You sigh, “Is it so much to ask for you to come with me just because I want you to?”

Your hands are flat on his chest and Levi tugs your wrists into his, rubbing circles. You already see the agreement on his face, in the turn of his lips.

“Not at all,” Levi promises, “I’ll tell Erwin I’ll be coming as your plus one.”

As if he could ever say no to you. As if he could ever say no to a night of being on your arm, both of you dressed to the nines. Even if that meant listening to rich men and women speak to you both in a way that annoys him to no end, in a way that makes your blood burn.

You both usually manage to make nights like this fun. He’s sure you have something up your sleeve. A memory of the first time Erwin had assigned you both to one of these donor’s galas resurfaces, maybe from ten years ago at this point-

Levi had barely paid you any mind, and you were quite annoyed with it all. You didn’t know why Erwin thought this was a good idea, pairing you up with him to tag team this gala.

You would probably have more success on your own anyway. Since you would be focused and your thoughts wouldn’t be filled with ire for the man who was accompanying you.

But just because he doesn’t pay you any mind doesn’t mean that he wasn’t a gentleman. He held doors for you and had even gotten you both a drink as soon as you had entered the ballroom.

There’s no way he could’ve known that you needed something to hold in settings like this to stave off your anxiety.

You had offered him a smile and a ‘thanks’, to which he had waved off. You had wanted to tell him that he looked nice, but refrained from doing so when he seemed to not even want to look at you.

What an ass. That’s okay, you’ll pretend like it doesn’t irk you. That one of your coworkers who you’ve worked with for as long as you’ve been part of the Survey Corps seems to not even want to breathe in the same general vicinity as you.

You had only just gotten his phone number, and you’ve worked with him for almost five years now.

With a scoff, you tell him that you’ll go and mingle with the crowd. You advise him to do the same and he has the gall to roll his eyes at you.

Fine. Two can play at that game.

He dislikes these events, but he knows how much it benefits the organization to get into the pockets of these rich types. Knowing that their money was benefiting something good for the Underground soothed their egos, after all. He gets frustrated when he sees these people talk about themselves like they're something to be worshipped for a simple donation. Maybe simple is the wrong word. But to Levi, spending the time with the kids meant just as much.

Considering that he was one of them.

But as Erwin often says- they need both to function. They need the resources and they need interest.

Levi hates this. Making small talk with people. Specifically, making small talk with people who don’t give a shit about him. Or you. Or anything outside of the walls of their unattainable realities. He decides to keep to himself and watch you plaster a sweet, unassuming smile that nearly makes his skin crawl. Because with that smile, you could convince anyone to do anything.

Him included. Probably.

You place calculating touches over the shoulders or forearm of whoever you’re talking to, bursting out in laughter at the perfect time, and Levi wonders when and how you got so good at this. When and how you got so good at schmoozing.

No wonder Erwin prefers that you come to these galas. You’ve got these fuckin’ losers eating out of the palm of your hand so effortlessly. It’s like clockwork- your dark eyes are wide and shining, smile easy and sweet, hands open and friendly.

These people will have nothing but good things to say about you at the end of the night. You had clearly done your homework- you knew who the big families in attendance were and you had their profiles nearly memorized as talking points.

That begs the question- why the fuck was Levi even there then?

You manage to excuse yourself, promising the people around you that you’d be back soon enough. Levi watches your smile fall as you roll your shoulders back. You’re exhausted, things like this clearly took its toll on you.

Levi has a glass of water ready for you.

“Thanks,” You mutter, unable to pull your muscles together for a smile.

“Think you need more than just a water to deal with these fuckers.”

“Tell me about it,” You sigh and then realize it’s the first full sentence he’s said to you all night, “Gonna go to the bar. You want somethin’?”

He shakes his head and you shrug, heading to the other side of the room. Levi watches you walk away and picks up on the tension building in your shoulders.

Your cheeks are beginning to hurt from all of the forced smiles, forced laughter, and forced conversations. You want to go home, but you have a duty to fulfill. After you order a drink, you find yourself in conversation with two women, asking you about what it was like to work in the Underground.

It’s one of the few genuine questions you’ve received, and yet you’re almost too drained to answer. One of the women leans in closer to you, nose only millimeters away from yours.

“You’re somethin’ else aren’t you? Survey Corps finest and all,” She muses, “Erwin only sends his best to these things.”

“Uh,” You reply, your head suddenly filled with air. You back away a step, but she’s somehow closer to you than before. Her fingers dance over your bare arm and you reflexively yank your arm closer to you but she pays no mind to your reluctance.

“His prettiest, too,” She says and you wish you would melt into the floor. Away from her. Away from this.

“Can’t you tell when you’re making someone uncomfortable?” A voice comes from your right and you can barely hear it over the slamming of your heart against your ribcage. It’s Levi and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Or do you have a stick so far up your ass that you can’t tell what’s right in front of you?” Levi continues easily, ignoring your wide eyes and the woman’s flabbergasted look.

Levi stands next to you, nearly shielding you with his body.

“Do you even know who I am?” She says rudely, arms crossed across her chest. As if she hadn’t just touched you with those same fingers.

“No,” Levi says in his bored tone, “Don’t really care.”

“Levi, let’s go. It’s fine,” You whisper, trying to plead with him.

“You won’t get my money then-”

“We don’t fuckin’ want your shitty money,” Levi says coldly, already turning his back on them and you follow him. He’s walking fast and you have to call out to him to wait up for you at the coat check. Your head is spinning, a sure sign of a headache that will be coming.

“Which coat is yours?” Levi asks once you catch up.

“That one,” You point to the black peacoat that you want nothing more than to bury yourself in. You stay silent as you walk to the entrance, mindlessly scrolling on your phone and texting Erwin that you’ll be heading home.

“Tell me that was the first time,” Levi says, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Comes your eloquent answer.

He raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“Oh. Uh… It happens sometimes,” You shrug, “Doesn’t really get too far. These rich types just like what they can’t have.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’m gonna kill Erwin,” He mutters.

“Why? He didn’t do anything.”

“It’s not worth it. Do you think it’s worth it?” Levi asks, more emotion in his voice than you’ve possibly ever heard before.

“Levi,” You murmur, “It’s fine. Just drop it.”

He looks like he wants to protest but he abides by your request. Levi can’t get your hesitance, your fearful eyes, your flinch out of his head. It reminds him too much of his mother, and he can’t get it out of his head.

Levi takes a cab home with you, telling the cab driver to stop at your apartment first then his. The ride is mostly silent, save for the cab driver’s small talk. Your hands are twisting in your lap as you look out of the window.

“Hey,” You murmur, “I’m glad we’re coworkers. Friends, even.”

“Tch,” Levi replies easily, “Don’t get any ideas.”

But you smile at him and Levi doesn’t look away. He has to make sure that the look that reminds him of his mother is gone.

***

Tonight’s gala is at the castle in Wall Sina. Coming here still puts a bad taste in your mouth, but it’s not so hard to manage as it was before. The decorations are more tasteful than they usually are, bronze and blue streamers and banners hanging throughout the large ballroom.

“How are we supposed to blend in here?” You hear Jean mutter under his breath.

“By getting that stick out of your ass and mingling,” Levi replies easily, shooting a sideways glance.

“It’s not so bad,” You muse, “It’s not so bad now . Just be yourself, Jean. These people love talking about themselves. Just charm them. From what I hear, you’re pretty good at that.”

Levi rolls his eyes at Jean’s surprised expression.

“C’mon, Jean. We can go talk to that noble family over there,” You suggest, looking expectantly at him.

“What about Ca-, I mean Levi?” Jean asks.

“Levi has his own list of people Erwin wants him to talk to,” You wink at him and Levi rolls his eyes.

“Meet you back here in an hour or so.”

***

A voice that you haven’t heard in years breaks your reverie, your heart sputtering as you turn around to face him. You try to face him as neutrally as you can, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he bothers you.

“Kenny,” You breathe, surprise morphing into irritation, “Why are you here?”

“What, I can’t check in on my favorite nephew and niece to be?” He smirks in that way that you know gets under Levi’s skin.

“He’s not- we’re not-” You sigh, cutting yourself off, “You shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“He’s playing hard to get, huh?” Kenny says, lips twitching and eyes trained on you. You feel exposed, as if he’s burning you from the inside out but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. His cool, grey eyes are unforgiving but you hold his gaze. He seems satisfied with his assessment of you and you pretend like your skin isn’t crawling.

You’ve never liked Kenny. Even if he wasn’t such a dick to Levi, you’re certain you wouldn’t like him.

“I said he doesn’t want to see you,” You repeat firmly. The longer he stands in front of you, the more disgusted you become.

“Aww, he doesn’t want to see his ol’ man?” Kenny pouts, “I’m sure I’ll run into him at some point. Give him my best will you?”

“Wait,” You call out, curiosity getting the best of you, “Why are you here? I haven’t seen you in, what, four years?”

“You miss me, sweetheart?” He grins wolfishly and you visibly recoil, “This whole thing. I’m one of the people they’re honoring.”

“Oh, really? This is for donors, for good, upstanding people of Wall Rose and Wall Sina who give money and resources to help us-”

“I’m hurt that you don’t see me as one of those good, upstanding people.”

“Kenny,” You scoff, “ Good and upstanding isn’t in your fuckin’ vocabulary.”

“Ouch,” Kenny says, “You kiss Levi with that mouth?”

You swear you’re about to lunge at him, hands ready to throttle his neck and wipe the stupid grin off of his face. But then you feel Levi’s presence before you see him and his hand brushes against yours. In an attempt to reassure you. He doesn’t look at you, only concentrating his gaze upon Kenny.

His uncle. Uncle Kenny.

“Oi, Levi. Lookin’ the same as ever,” Kenny drawls and you see red.

“Shut up,” You hiss, “Shut the fuck up -”

Levi quiets you with a look before turning back to Kenny. He’s quiet for a moment, as if he can’t believe that his Uncle Kenny is standing in front of him.

“You’re here because of the weapons business you have,” Levi says, voice perfectly even. Only you can catch the small inclination of fury beneath layers of iciness.

“You somehow wormed your way in with these people. Convinced them that you’re like them,” Levi continues with piercing eyes, “You’re not. You’re a weasel. A shitty little weasel with no place here. You’re nothing like them. At least they can sleep at night, but you? You don’t deserve to.”

Before Kenny can say anything, Levi’s turned his back on him and you walk side to side with him. Tension radiates off of him in waves as he stews in his quiet anger and you let out a soft sigh.

“Levi,” You murmur, “Come with me.”

You touch the inside of his wrist and he follows you to an empty room. Boxes upon boxes sit on the sides of the walls. The room is illuminated by drowning sunlight creeping in through a window. You lock the door behind you and take his hand, drawing circles in the inside of his wrist.

“Levi,” You whisper again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He says nothing in reply, only looking at you with that same piercing gaze. Iciness has chipped away from the corners of his eyes, and instead he just looks lost for a moment. It disappears as soon as it comes, but you’re sure it’s a look he wore often when he was a kid.

“I’ll tell Erwin we have to leave,” You say, “He’ll understand, Levi. It’s not worth it.”

His eyes flash at you but you stand your ground.

“Do you want to stay?” You ask, sensing his hesitancy, “We can leave, Levi. We can go home.”

Levi pulls you in without a word and presses his face into the crook of your neck. His breaths are heavy against your skin, trying to calm himself down with your woodsy scent. You run your fingers through his undercut and over the base of his neck, lightly scratching with your freshly done nails.

You just want him to feel safe and you know he doesn’t. Not when Kenny is around.

It’s a few minutes before Levi speaks again, and his voice is even but tight.

“I need to know why he’s here. And how.”

“Levi,” You say softly, cupping his cheek, “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” He says sharply, turning his icy gaze to you. Levi winces when he sees you pull your hand back in alarm. He reaches for your hand again, rubbing circles over your thumb.

“He raised me,” Levi says, “I need to know.”

You nod, eyes round with understanding. But you see a crack through his armor and you press your forehead to his, allowing his shaky breaths to fall onto you.

“Why is he here?” He whispers, eyes trained on yours. You hear the silent question- why is he here now? Why wasn’t he here before? Levi pulls you closer to him by your waist, hands firm and searching for comfort.

“I don’t know, Levi,” You murmur, “But I’ll kick his ass outta here, you know that. If he even looks at you the wrong way-”

Levi cuts you off with a kiss, pouring all of his frustrations, his anguish, his love for you and for life into you. Your startled gasp is muffled, fingers clawing at his shoulders.

“I know,” He whispers when he pulls away, “Saw you about to throttle him earlier. Who do you think you are?”

Levi’s offers you a crooked smile and you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Kenny Ackerman’s niece to be, apparently.”

“Is that what he said?” Levi says mildly. You hum and Levi pulls you closer for another stolen kiss. He breathes compliments into your skin with his lips and with featherlike touches of his fingers. You coax his nerves out of him, whispering honeyed promises with your tongue and your touch to his warmed skin.

“We should go,” Levi mutters, pulling away, taking in your heaving chest and swollen lips, “Before people notice that we’re gone.” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip and you nod reluctantly.

“Or we could stay here and make out for the rest of the night,” You protest feebly, already smoothing your dress out and taking his arm as he leads you out of the room.

“We have family business to attend to.”

***

You keep sneaking glances at Levi, unsure of what he’s thinking. You want to hold his hand and rub his back but refrain from doing so. Instead, you reach under the table and touch the palm of his hand to reassure him and before you can pull away, he holds on to your fingers. He’s rigid in his seat, face betraying no trace of emotion. But you know better.

Levi tenses up immediately when Kenny walks across the stage to receive his commendation for being such an esteemed donor. Kenny spots him immediately in the crowd, narrowing his eyes with a smug smirk.

Poor Jean. He probably has no idea what’s going on. A drop of guilt blooms in your chest. He’s supposed to be here to learn. You mentally promise to make it up to him.

Jean looks at you, then Levi, then the stage. He’s no fool- he can tell how tense the air has become. There’s a crease in Levi’s brow that he’s never seen before.

You’re certain you’ll all receive a scolding from Erwin, but at this point, you truly do not care.

***

“I’ll get the car keys from the valet,” Levi promises, “It’ll take a second.”

His thumb brushes your chin and you nod. He didn’t want to wait for valet to bring his car around, he wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as he could. Even if that meant going on a wild goose chase for his car within the parking lot.

“Wait,” You reach for him, “What about Jean? The least we can do is take him home.”

Levi groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fine,” He sighs, “I’ll look for him inside. If I don’t find him in a minute, I’m leaving his ass here.”

You stifle a laugh but nod at him. He leaves you with his blazer when he sees goosebumps on your skin as well as another brush of his thumb against your chin. You admire him from behind, the way his navy colored waistcoat hugs him. As you’re tugging his blazer on and crossing your arms for warmth, you see Jean walking out of the entrance. You’re about to text Levi and tell him that you found Jean, but then you see Kenny following him outside and you swallow.

You thought you could make a getaway without running into Kenny once more. The number of times you’ve seen him tonight is already one too many. Dread fills you, leaving you rooted on the spot as he approaches you with his cool, unassuming smirk.

“You could knock someone dead with that look,” Kenny muses, “I suppose that’s one of the many reasons why my nephew is with you, huh?”

You say nothing as your cheeks flare.

“The silent treatment? That’s not very nice…”

He’s close enough to you that you can see the steel of his eyes. It’s the same steel in Levi’s eyes and you swallow your nerves once more to face him.

“Don’t talk to me about being nice, Kenny,” You scoff, “What do you want from me? What do you want from him?”

“Nothin’,” Kenny shrugs, “Can’t I just say hello to my family? See how everyone’s been?”

“No,” You say bluntly, “Leave us alone, Kenny.”

Jean is nowhere to be seen and you breathe a minuscule sign of relief. You don’t want him to listen to this.

You try to move away from him and get back inside the venue, but he grabs your shoulder. Your head snaps back in surprise and then irritation. Shrugging your shoulder out of his grip, you step closer to him. Close enough that he takes a step back.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ touch me again, Kenny,” You seethe, “You don’t need to worry about Levi beating your ass. I’ll break your wrist on my fuckin’ own.”

To your surprise, he laughs.

“She’d like you, you know. Kuchel,” Kenny laughs, sudden fondness in the lines of his eyes. He pokes your forehead, almost teasing and you ache for Levi. This was the man who raised him. And then left him when he was barely a teenager.

“Leave us alone, Kenny,” You murmur, taking a step back, “If he wants to see you, he will. But leave us alone until then.”

“He’s doing okay?” Kenny asks, and you see a familiar crack in his armor. It reminds you of Levi, when he lets his guard down and allows the perceived luxury of vulnerability.

“Yeah,” You reply, “He’s doing okay.”

“You’ll take care of him,” He says, his voice hard. Steel returns to his eyes, but you’re used to it.

“Always,” You reply without missing a beat. Your heart is out in the open on your sleeve, bleeding and beating for Levi. You wonder if Kenny can sense all of the things you want to say to him.

Kenny pokes your forehead once more, eyes lingering on your face. As if searching for a shred of doubt or reason for disbelief.

As if he has a right to.

***

Levi was about to give up on looking for Jean when he bursts into the entrance as if he’s seen a ghost. His eyes are wide and he sprints to Levi when he finally spots him across the room.

“Spit it out, Jean,” Levi says with a raised eyebrow.

“Some guy- There’s some guy out there,” Jean pants, “Looks kinda like you except smiles more. But in a scary way. Talking to her. Figured you should know before I intervened.”

It’s not fair for Levi to be annoyed that Jean left you, but he closes his eyes in irritation.

“And you left her there with him ?” Levi asks, walking long strides to get to you.

“All due respect, sir, but she can handle herself,” Jean says easily and Levi stops to give him a look.

“You questioning me, Kirstein?”

“Well, no, sir-”

“Shut up, Kirstein.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go find my car, Kirstein. Pull up to the front when you do,” Levi says, tossing him his keys. Jean looks flabbergasted for a moment but sprints off to the parking lot.

Of course Levi knows you can handle yourself with Kenny. He just wishes you didn’t have to.

***

Defiance is written across your features, in the furrow of your eyebrows and the crossing of your arms.

He sees Kenny poke your forehead and he sees you wince. It’s an action that reminds him of when he was young, when Kenny would approve of something he did. He would always receive a poke to the forehead as a thank you, or as a job well done.

Seeing Kenny touch you, no matter how small or fleeting, sends him into a rage that he’s been struggling to contain all evening. Your dark eyes widen when Levi roughly clasps Kenny’s shoulder to pull him back and away from you.

He’s so close to the edge, about to fall off an invisible precipice and you both know it. Levi pulls his arm back behind him as his hand curls into a fist, just like the way Kenny taught him all those years ago, but before he can land a solid punch on Kenny’s sneering face. Something pulls him back.

“Levi,” You whisper, your arms tight around him, “Do you need this, Levi? Is this what you need?”

Smoke slowly lifts from his eyes as he focuses on your quiet breaths against him and your fingers tracing his chest. The sound of his blood flooding to his ears quiets with each breath of yours. Levi un-clenches his fist and instead, pushes Kenny away in the same breath. He looks at Kenny long and hard, his eyes calming from a raging, stormy sea. Your cheek is still pressed against his back, arms locked around his waist.

Levi offers him nothing more than a scoff and turns his back on him. You peel yourself from his back, giving him a small smile and dare to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Let’s go home, Levi,” You murmur.

“Kirstein’s getting the car,” Levi says and you can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Really? I’m surprised,” You muse, “You must trust him.”

“He wishes,” Levi scoffs.

Just as you’re about to comment that you would be surprised if he ends up finding it in this sea of cars, he honks at both of you.

Jean can tell that something has happened, from the tired look on your face and the tension in Levi’s shoulders. He hops out of the driver’s seat when Levi barks at him and you scold Levi for his tone.

“Thank you, Jean,” You murmur, “You’re a good man.”

You kiss his cheek lightly in gratitude and Jean feels his face heat up. He touches the spot you had kissed in wonder.

“Oi, Kirstein! If you don’t get in the car in the next five seconds, I’m leaving your ass here,” Levi threatens with a glare and you stifle a laugh behind your hand in the passenger seat.

The drive is quiet, save for music playing as background noise and your small talk with Jean. Jean notices you looking over to Levi every so often, gazing at him as if you’re looking for something.

“So,” Jean says, to try to lighten the tension, “Do you come to these often? Do you come together? ”

Levi looks like he’s about to say something scathing to Jean but you send him a sizzling glance that keeps him quiet.

“For the last nearly six years… If that’s often, then yes,” You reply, watching in amusement as Jean’s brown eyes widen in shock.

“Six years?!”

“Close your mouth, Jean. You look like a horse,” Levi says plainly and you roll your eyes.

Jean wonders if anyone at all will believe him when he tells them about this evening.

***

As soon as you kick your heels off of your aching feet while leaning against the front door of your apartment, Levi’s arms are around you. Inhaling you in deeply. You relax in his hold, leaning your head against his shoulder as his fingers trace over the delicate veins of your neck.

You can sense his need through the rough calluses of his hands.

Levi tilts your jaw towards his lips, eyeing you for a few moments. Your honeyed eyes are swirling, patient and waiting for him. Your lips are slightly parted and he can’t take it anymore- he can’t take how you still look at him like that. As if he’s pulled the stars from his bleeding heart. His blood has turned to fire, eyes molten and smoky as he pulls you in for a rough, searing kiss.

You turn in his hold, arms wrapping around his head as fingers slide through his inky hair. Levi gives you half a second to breathe before he’s pressing another kiss to your lips and swallowing any thread of a thought that you have. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping your hips and your soft sounds hardly register in his mind. He hears you say something, but ignores it, in favor of pushing his lips to your neck. Your sweet spot, the spot that makes your knees go weak. He pulls a small sound from your throat, barely aware of your nails scratching his chest from over his clothes.

Then he hears your voice again.

“Levi,” You say softly, barely above a whisper, “Are you okay?”

He ignores you, muffling your concern with the cool press of his mouth to yours. Your hands are firm against his chest this time, pushing him away lightly. Just a few breaths away. Not too far.

“Levi,” You press, “What do you need Levi?”

He can’t take the sweet sound of his name on your lips. The way it sounds like honey, dripping from your tongue and into the air. His eyes are uncharacteristically wild, tendrils of vivid affection swirling together.

“You,” He finally says raspily, “It’s always you.”

You give him a small smile with glowing cheeks, and he wants to drown in your adoration.

“C’mere, Levi.”

Your arms wrap around him tightly, tucking his face in your neck. You rub his back gently while your other hand runs through his hair the way he likes.

“Today was a long day,” You breathe into his ear, nipping his earlobe lightly. He hums into your neck, his breaths evening out. You pull his dress shirt out from the hold of his pants while still rubbing circles over his back.

“Did you see Jean’s face? Poor kid,” You laugh lightly, “Think he’ll come to one of these things again?”

Your honeyed voice anchors him, and he wants to sink into you.

“He’s a good kid,” You continue, “Like you. Like I know you were. Like I know you are. I know your heart. You gave it to me, remember?”

You snake your hand to his chest and lightly scratch at his left side.

“I need you, Levi,” You murmur, tipping his chin from the crook of your neck to meet his eyes, “Can you feel how much?”

You move his hand first to your chest, where he can feel your heart beating fast. Like a hummingbird. His gaze is sharp, eyes boring into yours and you don’t falter. You lift the skirt of your dress to your waist with one hand and take his hand, allowing him to brush his fingers against your panties.

Levi’s throat goes dry at your unwavering, hazy eyes and rubs you over your panties. He swallows when a soft sigh escapes your pretty lips.

“You gonna do somethin’ about it or what, Levi?” You drawl, a smirk tugging at your lips. He sees the plea in your eyes, your plea for him to come back to you.

His thumb circles your panties once more, avoiding where you need him the most. Your smirk crumbles into a pout quickly and you try to buck your hips into his hand to get him to touch you. You watch him rub circles over your panties, finally getting the friction you so crave. He noses your neck, pressing his searing lips to yours fiercely.

His eyes aren’t so wild anymore, but his touches are.

You fumble with the buttons of his waistcoat, fingers slipping with every touch of his lips to yours. You’re uncoordinated and clumsy, getting frustrated with yourself. How is he so good at doing things with his eyes closed?

Levi senses your frustration and lets out a breathy chuckle. His hand is still under your dress, lazily teasing you’ve and you finally open your eyes to unbutton his waistcoat and dress shirt with shaky fingers.

You’re suddenly taken back to a memory of the first time you had seen him. You were one of his firsts and he was far from yours. He wanted to do right by you, and it took time for him to learn what you liked and how to please you and make you sigh in that sweet, breathy way.

Levi pushes your panties to the side, thumb circling your bundle of nerves. You gasp in surprise at the sudden but welcome warmth.

You manage to pull his shirt off of his shoulders, leaving his chest bare in front of you. Hunger floods your senses, hunger for this man in front of you. For your man, who has given you his heart despite his heart being so heavy for so long.

You feel your panties being pushed down your legs when Levi crouches on the floor. His fingers squeeze your thighs and your calves lightly as he looks up at you. You step out of your panties as he tugs you by your hands.

“Come here,” Levi mumbles, pulling you into his lap.

Levi reaches behind you to search for the zipper of your dress with his fingers. He peels the dress off of you easily and you can’t say that he’s looking at you like you’re a goddess in his arms because he looks at you like this every day. All the time. But that’s what this look reminds you of. Before, when you were in your early stages of your relationship, it intimidated you. The depth of his devotion.

But now, it surrounds you and you welcome it.

Just before he sets your dress on the couch to keep it off of the floor, you stop him.

“Let me put it in the hamper,” You murmur, “We’ll forget about it and then I’ll wake up in the middle of the night because it’ll be bothering me.”

That’s one of the many reasons that his love for you runs deep. You can keep up with his need for cleanliness. Levi follows you into the bedroom with his shirt, waistcoat and your panties in his hands. And his eyes on the arch of your bare ass and the curve of your spine.

“Give me that,” You say, turning around to take his dress shirt and waistcoat. You place it in the special hamper, the one designated for dry cleaning.

Levi tosses your black panties into your hamper with an unassuming smirk and you can’t help but wonder how a simple action like that turns your stomach over in arousal. Levi pulls you towards him, littering your hips with fleeting touches before squeezing your ass firmly.

His lips are on yours in an instant, pulling you even closer into his chest. Your fingers spread over his scarred shoulder, fingernails pressing into his skin. You pull a groan from him and trail your fingers down his chest. Scratching where you see fit, scratching over the smattering of dark hair leading into his pants.

Levi snakes a hand in between you, fluttering over your chest. His fingers are replaced by his lips quickly, as your breath hitches with each bite of his lips to your skin. You can’t get enough of his mouth on you, or of the way the shadows fall over his broad shoulders and taut muscles. His other hand brushes against your heated center and your hips buck into his hands involuntarily.

You can taste his longing, hidden in the crevices of his lips, the roughness of his touch against you. The way he slots himself with you, molding into every curve of your body. You hear your own soft moans and calls of his name as his lips touch every part of your soul.

Without a word, he hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you up. His lips are still on your skin, wherever he can reach. You lock your arms behind his head, tugging his hair back tight enough that it pulls him back. An audible groan escapes his throat when you pull at his hair.

Something you had discovered early on that he liked.

He stumbles for just a step before regaining his balance. You let out a breathy laugh into his neck before pressing a kiss there. Then behind his ear. Close to his collarbones. Along the expanse of his chest.

Levi gently drops you to the bed, drinking you in from above with wide eyes. The voracity in his darkened eyes nearly makes you look away but you hold his gaze. He surges forward, unable to fathom another moment of not touching you.

He grinds into you lazily, your bare center seeking more friction than the roughness of his pants.

“Levi,” You nearly whine, pulling at his belt buckle, “Take it off, Levi.”

“ You take it off,” He drawls, voice low. Your heart flutters and your throat goes dry.

You sit up, drawing your knees to your chest and pull him closer to you by his belt. Your movements are slow as you unbuckle his belt and toss it to the floor, and you yank his pants and boxer briefs down in one swift motion.

Levi can’t deny that the way your eyes always widen when you see him strokes his ego.

“Off, Levi,” You say softly and he tosses his pants into his hamper before ducking down to meet your lips- your chest- your navel.

Levi presses a hand to your center and you gasp, the pretty sound floating into the air and reverberating in his ears. He holds your hips steady with his forearm as he circles your clit with his thumb. He hoists your legs over his shoulders while gazing at you with that same tenacious look.

Lust and love mixes together to make your eyes a darkened brown.

You gasp his name breathily, back arching slightly with the first flick of his tongue against your center. He maintains his gaze, eyes piercing into yours and your toes curl at the added intensity. You struggle to keep your eyes open but Levi squeezes your hips every so often as a reminder. He squeezes your breasts, pinching and tweaking.

He pulls his hand away to rub your clit with his thumb as his tongue laps you up. Levi wasn’t always this good with his tongue and with his fingers. It took you both some time to get in sync with each other, in terms of what you both liked.

Time and patience, which you both had infinite amounts of for each other.

Stars are beginning to dot your eyelids, your hands bunching up in the sheets as urgent, broken whispers of his name float into the air. Just as your thighs begin to shake and your toes curl, he pulls his lips away from your aching, empty center and you could scream .

Levi does this often. He brings you to the edge, only to back away. Only to take you there once more. Like clockwork.

The smug smirk on his face makes you want to kiss him. So you do. You pull him into your arms, grinding into his hardened length and hungrily bite his bottom lip. Your stolen release burns in the back of your mind but you give it no attention. Levi groans in pain at your bite and you smile against the kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. You lock your legs around his waist, holding him in place and reach in between your bodies to stroke him in your hand. Levi bucks against your hand with a low moan.

“I want you, Levi,” You whisper into his ear, nipping at his earlobe. Warmth pools in his belly at that and he looks dazed for a moment before snapping out of it. Your lips are parted and swollen, brown skin glistening and warm, dark eyes wide and wanting.

“Fuck ,” Levi mutters, “I need to be inside you right now.”

You nod vehemently, parting your legs for him quickly. He looks to your dripping center and guides himself in one swift glide. Both of you groan in unison and Levi stills for a moment when you pull him in for a kiss. You run a hand through his hair, smiling when he groans as you clench around him.

“Don’t do that,” He says breathily, playfully biting at your shoulder.

“Why? You gonna cum or somethin’?” You tease, earning yourself a squeeze to your hips.

“Shut up.”

Before you can say anything back to him, he lifts himself up over you, arms around your head. His hair falls into his eyes, tickling your heated cheeks and he shallowly thrusts into you. It’s the sweetest burn, the way he fits in you.

Your eyes begin to water when his thrusts get deeper. You subconsciously tilt your head to the side, away from him and Levi kisses your neck. He nudges your jaw with his nose to pull your eyes to him. You crane your neck up to press a kiss to his lips but he pushes himself into you particularly roughly and you moan into his mouth.

Levi pulls you up into his lap, arms tight around your hips and you hum. His lithe fingers are everywhere- cupping your neck, holding your thighs steady on either side of his waist, your scalp.

You’re gasping his name as he pushes into you and murmurs soft notes of encouragement into your neck. He watches as he slides in and out of your wetness with darkened cheeks. Nails scrape his back and he winces for a second but pays it no mind. Your soft breaths and whines of his name against his neck are distracting enough.

Levi rubs your folds lazily as he thrusts up into you. All you see, hear and feel is him and you’re overwhelmed. You raise your head to meet his searing eyes with an arm hooked around his head and sloppily press your lips to his.

Heat pools your belly once more, and you can nearly see stars about to burst behind your eyelids once more. Levi can sense that you’re close, in the way your legs quiver around him and in the way you clench around him. He rubs your clit in tight circles, coaxing you to the edge. Where he’s right there to catch you.

“Good girl,” Levi whispers, and your eyes widen like they always do.

He holds you tightly when you cum with a soft gasp and shaky legs. You’re panting broken notes of his name into his skin. Levi peppers your face with kisses. He’s still inside you and you give him a devilish smile.

You push him down to the bed and dig your nails into his chest teasingly. He knows that look in your eyes all too well. You stretch your torso, your hands skimming your sides and brush your fingers over your clit to tease yourself. Levi groans and plants his hands firmly on your hips. Squeezing your ass and your thighs as he pleases.

“You feel so good, Levi,” You breathe, as if it’s a secret only for his ears. You start to rock against him, hips dragging across his heated skin. The friction from his skin sends a shudder up your spine and Levi slides his hands over your sides before squeezing you.

Levi loves the way your eyes shine with desire and an undercurrent of trust. He loves the way your brown skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat, the way you’re clawing at him for something to hold on to. Levi pulls you close to him, kissing up and down your chest.

You find a rhythm and ignore the way your thighs burn as you take all of him in. The only sounds in the four walls of the bedroom is the sound of your skin slapping on his and his shaky breaths. Levi is always so composed- seeing him come undone by your hands sends another pool of heat into your belly.

“Shit,” Levi groans, throwing his head back and tightening his grip on your thighs. His hooded eyes are trained on you, watching you bounce as your legs slowly begin to tire out. But you’re determined, he can see it in your face. He loves watching you like this- determination and desire mixing together. Levi rubs your clit with his thumb and you gasp, your legs beginning to shake once more. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flat against him, thrusting into you.

You clench around him without meaning to and he moans breathlessly in your ear, feverishly pressing his lips to your throat to stave off his climax until yours. You can feel how close he is, in his sloppy thrusts, the way his legs jerk against yours and you breathe him permission for him to cum inside of you.

Levi gasps your name into your skin as he cums, his stomach tightening as you feel warmth inside of you and beginning to leak down your thighs. He’s about to pull out but you stop him with a tug of his wrist.

“Stay,” You mumble and he swallows. He’s sensitive, but he stays. He flips you over so you’re under him and rubs at your clit lazily while his lips find your salty skin. Your senses are deliciously overwhelmed as Levi engulfs you.

“Levi,” You nearly cry, water gathering in the corners of your eyes. You’re overwhelmed by the love you have for him, by the love you feel and see in his grey eyes. Your nails are piercing against his bicep but he hardly feels it. You’re so close , and he needs to feel you come apart under him.

Your grip is tight around his arms, lips parted as your back arches when you finally cum for the second time so far.

“Good girl,” Levi murmurs again, kissing your hairline, your heated cheeks and your chin.

You rub your foot up and down his calf with a small smile. You hold him close to you, enjoying his warmth as it lights you up from inside out.

“We should go shower,” You murmur, rubbing a hand over your face.

“Why? You thought we were done?”

“You’re right. How stupid of me,” You muse, earning yourself a pinch to your waist.

“You’ve said worse.”

***

Fatigue settles in your bones after the fourth, or was it fifth, orgasm of the night. Your eyes are heavy, both from the events of the day as well as the events of the night. You hear Levi panting next to you, exhausted as well.

But you can’t rest. Not yet.

“Levi,” You nudge his shoulder, “We have to shower.”

“Give me a minute,” He says hoarsely.

“Can’t believe you seduced me into sex before washing up after the gala. You’ve made me lose my marbles.”

“Me?” Levi says, flabbergasted.

You hum, closing your eyes for a few minutes. You feel Levi’s weight shift and he carries you to the bathroom on shaky legs. Once you’re under the warm water, you groan as it soothes your sore muscles. You feel heavy, but weightless at the same time. Levi holds you up with your back to his chest and washes you down with his shower gel quickly but effectively. It smells just like him and you inhale deeply.

You swear you could fall asleep like this, and Levi knows it. You’re beginning to yawn widely enough that your eyes water. But you open your eyes to take the gel from him and lather him down slowly, taking your time with the dips and crevices of his body.

You even manage to sneak a kiss onto his bruised lips in between.

Levi holds you under the spray of the water for a few moments, with your head over his shoulder and an arm around your waist. His heartbeat is even and steady, so close to lulling you back to sleep.

“Stay awake,” Levi says softly but firmly, “Still have to towel off.”

You give him a noncommittal answer but pull away from him and wait for him to give you your towel. His dark hair is slightly damp, cheeks flushed from the heat of the water and from you . You can’t help but run your fingers through his hair as he wraps a towel around his waist and around you. Your limbs feel pliable, and damn, you are so tired.

Levi holds the implicit, unwavering trust you have for him in the palm of his hands and carries it carefully but confidently. He moisturizes the both of you, knowing that you hate waking up to dry skin.

“Raise your arms,” Levi murmurs and slides a sleep shirt over your head. He pats your head when you look up at him with a sleepy smile and nearly closed eyes.

“C’mon, it’s bedtime for us,” Levi says, carrying you to bed and drawing the covers over both of you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder as a goodnight and wraps himself around you. His legs intertwine with yours, and he draws you close to him. You’re fast asleep in minutes, your hand loose around his.

***

It’s the middle of the night when you wake up to a cold bed. You rub sleepiness out of your eyes and stretch your muscles, feeling every inch of the delicious soreness. Especially in your legs.

A soft but unsurprised sigh leaves your lips when you see the empty bed and the faint glow of the lights in the living room.

Levi is sitting on the couch, scrolling his phone mindlessly. His eyes are tired but you can tell his mind is spinning.

You wordlessly take one of his favorite teacups from the kitchen cabinet and start making tea for him. It’s a teacup that you had bought for him, painted black with gold accents. It reminded you of him.

He lifts his head a little at the scent of his favorite tea.

You bring his teacup and the teapot in a tray to the coffee table and tuck your bare legs under yourself to sit a few inches next to him, unsure if he wants space. When he says nothing for a few minutes, you assume he wants to be alone and you press a kiss to his hair. To leave and go back into the bedroom.

But he tugs your hand gently and so you stay.

“Come back to bed, Levi,” You murmur softly, fingers in his dark strands of hair.

It’s 3:18 AM and Levi drinks his black tea in his overhanded manner, leaning into your touch.

“Can’t stop thinking,” Levi finally says, “About Kenny.”

You’re not surprised.

“He asked me if I would take care of you,” You muse. Tension immediately fills his shoulders but you press your fingers into his muscles to calm him down.

“He told me that your mother would like me.”

Levi cracks a small smile at that.

“I told him to leave us alone, unless you want to see him,” You reply, “Then I told him I’d break his wrist if he touched me again.”

Levi kisses your cheek.

“Do you? Do you want to see him?” You ask, pressing a finger to his cheek.

“I don’t know,” Levi says honestly.

“It’s okay if you do. You don’t need anyone’s permission or justification but your own if you do want to see him,” You say firmly.

“Come with me. If I decide that I want to,” Levi breathes.

“Of course,” You nod determinedly.

He presses his lips to your forehead before leaning his forehead on yours.

“He did this, too,” You murmur, poking his forehead, “Oddly affectionate for a man with asshole tendencies.”

Levi lets out a soft chuckle.

“I saw,” Levi says, “He used to do that when I was a kid.”

“I figured.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, tracing patterns over the scars on his chest. Sleep is threatening to overtake you with the steady hum of his heart against your ear.

“Let’s go to bed, honey.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagine #snk imagine

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