#it took him a whole conversation to be on board | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 3 months

Text

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch.

That’s a good girl. Messy for me.

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is.

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully.

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses.

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth.

He is not, in fact, on his way home.

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy.

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny.

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.”

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?”

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display.

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.”

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself.

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen.

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking.

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do?

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice.

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on.

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.”

Naked.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.”

And with that, he hangs up.

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you.

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend.

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form.

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer.

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience?

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad.

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you.

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done?

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you.

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer.

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you.

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had.

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to.

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all.

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream—

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment?

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call?

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person.

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult.

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there.

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.”

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred.

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body.

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man.

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water.

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober.

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross.

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially.

Was it out of the question or would he consider it?

Your leg jitters harder.

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin.

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.”

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion.

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek.

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?”

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one?

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks.

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness.

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you.

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.”

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?”

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did.

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently.

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side.

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.”

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?”

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself.

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.”

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you.

“Can I feel how wet you are?”

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.”

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted.

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue.

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently.

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?”

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.”

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?”

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?”

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine.

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?”

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.”

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?”

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath.

“Spank my pussy again, please.”

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while.

“Apologize first.”

“You didn’t tell me how.”

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.”

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours.

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples.

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged.

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?”

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times.

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think.

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants.

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing.

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half.

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath.

Such a stark, sudden change.

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that.

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.”

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving.

“Keep your legs where they belong.”

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage.

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin.

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under.

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?”

A question for a question.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration.

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home.

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy.

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?”

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start.

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down.

You fight against it.

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness.

And you decide to repeat history.

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants.

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat.

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?”

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether.

And then, you collect your essence again.

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest.

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.”

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you.

He parts his lips for you.

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally.

You’re in charge. And it feels divine.

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue.

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.”

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you.

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince.

And then—then he manhandles you.

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does.

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden.

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter.

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?”

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening.

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion.

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.”

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit.

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free.

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off.

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.”

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused.

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.”

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation.

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way.

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum.

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.”

Yoongi has had enough.

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’.

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.”

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?”

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix.

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone.

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?”

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him.

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.”

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you.

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.”

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.”

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something.

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.”

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you.

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.”

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come.

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them.

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.”

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes.

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.”

With that, he hangs up.

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again.

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself.

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you.

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing.

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?”

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.”

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief.

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you.

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind.

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles.

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.”

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours.

But you don’t let him take charge.

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.”

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you.

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed.

You hold onto his neck with your dear life.

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.”

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours.

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.”

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him.

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock.

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit.

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life.

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too.

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring.

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.”

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation.

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?”

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness.

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him.

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.”

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.”

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two

1K notes · View notes

xmalereader · 4 months

Text

Bruce Wayne x Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

REQUEST: Could you please write Burce wayne x male reader who has trouble ordering food. Like in a restaurant when the waiter asks, he either stutters or goes completely quiet, and that's why he asks Bruce to order for him. And i would like to see Bruce's reactions when a waiter is like "you don't have to order for him. He can order for himself. I wasn't asking you, i was asking him" just the waiter assuming that Bruce is kinda controlling. The reader is silently crying in his seat, having to order on his own, like he knows the waiter was trying to do something good. (Totally not speaking from personal experience 🤭)

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Fluff, mature language, social anxiety, Bruce is a good boyfriend, mentions of fears, judgment, request, relatable events, everyone struggles.

TAGS: @one-green-frog

WC: 1.5K

NOTES: I used to struggle with ordering food due to anxiety and fear of people judging me 😩 but as I got older they fear kind of went away and I’m able to do it with no problem but everyone deals with anxiety differently and takes time to get come it so I ain’t judging. It’s like that with my older brother he’s 26 and still makes me order for him due to his own anxiety. But hopefully you enjoyed this shot and apologize for the long wait!

Everyone has social anxiety.

Y/n struggled with it at a young age, not being taught how to speak with others in public without getting the intense fear of judgment from others. He figured that he would improve as he got older, but it didn’t change and still struggled with the simple things. He could go out and run errands alone without any struggles since majority of place now had self checkout which was a god send for many.

He’s able to hold a conversation with strangers or with people he knew in the area, but his anxiety would get to him when it came towards the simplest tasks. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was an over thinker and would think that he did something wrong or if he perhaps pronounced something incorrect, thinking that people were judging him for the smallest things. It took time for him to improve but the anxiety still remained during important moments.

One of the easiest things that many were able to accomplish is ordering food. Their were times that he hesitated or froze up when ordering his own food, having to apologize each time he orders and forcing a nervous smile or laugh in hopes of getting through the few minutes that he is there. He struggled even more when he went out on dates.

Very few people knew about his anxiety and very few friends were kind enough to do the ordering for him without hesitation and providing the assistance that he needed. With strangers it was a whole other story, he didn’t want to force them into placing his own order due to his own fear and would struggle with speaking the words.

His dates never went well after that and hated the way he felt each time he stumbled upon the problem. If the waiter or waitress wasn’t staring at him intensely he’d probably order his food without a problem and his day would go fine. But the feeling of their eyes staring at him as he looked at his choices of food made him stutter and grow nervous when ordering.

Forcing that smile as always and getting through the day of embarrassment.

If he had this kind of anxiety how was he suppose to handle his future dates when he couldn’t do a simple task? He’s able to do a whole presentation in a room full of board of directors but he stutters and hesitates when it comes towards ordering a simple meal or even asking for help whenever he’s in public.

He figured he’d spend his days locked indoors while making his own meals while watching a good movie.

He didn’t think he’d end up bagging Bruce Wayne. Gothams Golden boy.

Y/n had thought that this was all a trick or a joke when Bruce first asked him out. He wanted to laugh at the mans face and tell him that he doesn’t need to make his life miserable by playing a mean joke, only to realize that Bruce was in fact not joking around.

Y/n worked at Wayne Enterprises but in a lower department not expecting himself to bump into Bruce Wayne and getting asked out by the man himself. Their first date was simple with a cup of coffee and muffins. He would have thought that bruce would take him someplace fancy on their first date, but when he didn’t he was a bit relieved.

Bruce was a great man and didn’t do anything that made him uncomfortable. Y/n figured that he’d only get lucky to have one date with bruce and then never see them man again, only to get asked out again and again and again. The first four months went well without any problems and enjoyed his time with Bruce as their time together grew their dates slowly got fancier.

Resulting into Y/n confessing to Bruce about his anxiety and fear of others judging him because he couldn’t do a simple task that only required a few words. He thought Bruce would laugh at him or use it against him and force him to confront his fear, instead Bruce smiled at him and asked.

“Do you want me to order for you?”

He said it with the most calmest voice ever showing no hints of judgment.

Y/n wanted to cry that night. It was a simple favor, but it meant a lot to him.

As their dates continued they created a routine each time they went out to eat. Y/n would either look up the menu online ahead of time and already have his order in mind and tell bruce before getting their orders placed. Bruce even memorized the dishes that Y/n liked whenever they went to a repeated restaurant and would for him on the spot without needing to be told what he liked, already knowing the mans interests.

A year into dating and it became a normal thing between the two.

During their one year anniversary, Bruce decided to take him to a new restaurant and getting seated in a nice secluded area and away from others. Y/n scanned the menu and hums. “This looks good.” He speaks up as he checks the different dishes until one caught his eye.

“You know the rule, order whatever you want.” Said Bruce, always reminding him that he can get whatever he wanted. Y/n was hesitant about the prices at first but with time he got adjusted to the idea of Bruce paying for everything and no matter how many times he tried to pay himself, Bruce had already paid ahead of time.

“This pasta looks good.” Y/n points out on the menu and shows Bruce who looked up form his own menu and smiles. “Is that all you want?”

“Can I also get this for dessert?” He points behind the menu where a picture of a nicely desert is presented, getting Bruce to chuckle as he nods his head. “You better share with me because I already know you won’t eat it all.” Y/n laughs at his words and sets his menu down, leaning back in his seat as he looks around the restaurant and takes in the interior, distracted by the place that he doesn’t notice the waitress coming over.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Bruce smiles at the women and starts with his order first, letting her know what he’d like. “And for you?” She turns her attention to Y/n who gets his attention pulled away from a painting he was staring at and looks at her with wide eyes. “I…”

“He’d have the pasta and the chocolate desert.” Bruce is quick to cut in when he noticed Y/n freeze up.

The waitress gives Bruce the stink eye by how he interrupts Y/n. “You don’t have to order for him. He can order for himself.” Bruce froze with wide eyes, opening and closing his mouth in shock. “I wasn’t asking you I was asking him.” She points her pencil at Y/n and puts her attention on him.

Y/n can only gap at her, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to speak but I can’t. He was caught off guard and reached out for his menu. “I’ll like…the—the…” He’s stuttering and doesn’t know what to tell her. “Do you need another minute?” She asks which only make the situation worse, he’s turning to Bruce and staring at him with eyes full of fear and hesitation silently screaming for help.

“I assure you miss my partner would like the pasta and desert.” Bruce says again in hopes of getting her to note down the order and she does, not without rolling her eyes which only makes Y/n whine.

“Your food will be ready soon.” She said while taking their menus and walking away, leaving them in silence.

Y/n lets out a deep sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say, she probably thinks you’re an asshole now.” He groans out while covering his face with his hands. Bruce can only chuckle while shaking his head and reaching out to grab him by the wrists. “Don’t be, not everyone knows about your fear and besides she was only doing it because she probably thought I was controlling.”

“You’re not!”

“She doesn’t know that. If I wanted to be asshole I would have yelled at her like other people do, but I’m not doing that. It was a simple misunderstanding.” Bruce reassured Y/n as he held his hand and smiles. He didn’t think that something like this would happen since they’ve never had this issue in the past at the other places that they visited.

“All you have to worry about is eating all of your food and sharing your desert.” Bruce tries to lighten up the mood which works for Y/n as he chuckled and nods his head. “Fine and then after we go home and watch a movie and not come back here again.” After this misunderstanding its most likely he doesn’t want to come back and face the same issue again.

“We stick with Jimmy’s…” He mumbled out, referring to his favorite restaurant that serviced amazing chicken wings and fries. Bruce laughs while nodding. “Next time we go out will go to Jimmy’s.” At this point they were already considered regulars that the owner memorized their orders, which made it better for Y/n.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x male reader #male reader #Batman #Batman x male reader #dc imagines #dc x male reader #one shot #social anxiety #request

705 notes · View notes

sithbvcky · 14 days

Text

.01: FRANKENSTEIN

As the adopted daughter of Tony Stark, your role becomes even more twisted and entangled when you meet and fall in love with one James Barnes. Unbeknownst to you, your world is about to flip upside down. Bucky x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2,466 *this was an anon request* A/N: I decided to make this a mini series and I hope you don't mind that I took some creative liberty with the concept!

Since you discovered you were adopted, you took it upon yourself to try and discover who you really were. You didn’t hold it against your father, keeping your adoption secret from you for so long. When your powers first appeared, that should’ve been your first clue that you were different. First it was the voices in your head, hearing conversations from buildings across the street. Then the telekinesis made itself known, accidentally throwing and breaking objects in fits of anger. As you grew, you felt more and more volatile. That at any moment you could burst. So you left. Telling your father you were going to find your birth mother. In typical Stark fashion, he sent you all the intel he could gather on who she was.

“I’m sorry I lied.” He said, giving you a hug.

“I understand. I’ll be in touch.” You said.

And with that, you boarded the next plane to Bucharest. Romania was the last known location of your birth mother. That was all Tony could dig up, everything else on the woman appeared to be lost to time. With your backpack and a whole lot of guts, you stepped off the plane and went to where she was last seen.

An old apartment building, badly in need of some repairs but still rather charming. You went over the basic Romanian in your head, only what you needed to get by. The woman at the front desk looked you up and down,

“Excuse me, I am looking for someone who used to live here, Mariana was her name.” You spoke in very broken Romanian. The woman stared at you with squinted eyes.

“I’m sorry my Romanian is bad, but please I just need to know where she is.” You tried again, holding up the copy of the address and the name that Tony had provided you.

“No english.” The woman grumbled, going back to her administrative duties.

“Please, I need your help. I have to find her.” You pleaded, the woman waved her hands to dismiss you.

"Ma’am, she is looking for someone that lived here.” A man’s voice speaking perfect Romanian startled you. You turned around to see who it was and was struck by his appearance. Tall, handsome with clear blue eyes and long brown hair. You noticed he was wearing gloves and carrying a plastic bag full of fresh plums. The woman responded to him in the same grumpy tone,

“She’s asking the name of the woman you’re looking for.” The man looked at you and you felt yourself dumbfounded. Clearing your throat you answered,

“Uh, her name was Mariana she used to live here. I just want to know where she went.” You answered, cursing yourself from being so easily distracted by an attractive man. You watched him as he translated your words to the woman who grumbled something back to him.

“She said no one by that name has lived here for at least three years.” He said, and you sighed.

“Does she know where she went?” You asked and the man translated. The woman muttered something to him before turning around to retreat into her office. The man sighed and turned to you,

“I’m sorry, she said she doesn’t know.”

You ran an exasperated hand through your hair and folded the copy of the address back up and slid it into your backpack.

“Thanks for the help.” You waved, adjusting the straps of the backpack and moving to walk back out of the building. You were almost out the door when the man called to you,

“Who is it you’re looking for, exactly?” He asked, “I-if you don’t mind me asking.” He added as he fidgeted with his fingers.

“Uh, she’s my birth mother and this was the last place she was.” You answered. The man nodded,

“What are you going to do now?” He inquired.

“I guess start back at square one. Try to see the city while I’m here.” You shrugged and he nodded again.

“Well, thanks again for the translating.” You turned and walked out of the building, before you could get halfway down the side walk, you heard the man call out.

“Hey, do you have a place to stay?” He asked, jogging up to you.

“No, but I’m sure I can find a hotel or something.” You said.

“Don’t worry about it, I got her to spare a room for you if you wanted it. No one really lives in this old building anyways.” He offered, with a flash of a smirk.

“Except you.” You teased, and he looked down at his feet bashfully.

“Look, I can help you find your mother, if you want.” He stated, taking you off guard. “I’m sort of good at finding people.”

“What are you like a private detective or something?” You joked.

“Something like that. Only if you want my help.”

You paused for a moment to think. A man you don’t know was offering his services to help you find your birth mother, the same man who stepped in and helped you with your broken Romanian. The smarter part of you would’ve turned and run but you were desperate. And, if things turned out bad you did have an arsenal at your disposal.

“Can you teach me any Romanian?” You asked with a smile and he flashed one of his own.

“Sure.”

The woman gave you a key to a room just down the hall from the man. He walked you to your door,

“Thanks again, uh’ You pointed at him,

“Ah, James you can call me James.”

You nodded,

“Thanks James, I’m Y/N.”

“Anytime, Y/N. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that he walked off to his room and you unlocked yours. It was small and nothing compared to the place you had back in New York thanks to your father. But it was cozy and you didn’t mind the intimacy that came with it.

That night, you were plagued with a horrific nightmare. Faces you knew well and some you only recognized, tearing each other apart. So much violence, friends turned on each other. Your father lying on the ground covered in blood. When you awoke, your room was trashed. As if someone had come in and tore through the place but nothing was missing. Then it dawned on you, your powers. Once they seemed to be only be triggered by anger but now, perhaps that nightmare caused you to have an episode while you were unconscious. God. You hoped no one heard you and that the damage remained contained to your room.

When you were dressed, you stepped out of your room to see James doing the same. He flashed a smile as he walked towards you.

“I was on my way to get coffee, if you want to join me.” He offered. He showed no sign of knowing what happened last night, and there seemed to be no damage anywhere else that you could see.

“Sure, that sounds great actually.”

The coffee shop was only a few blocks down from the apartment building. James bought you both coffee which you insisted he didn’t have to. Outside, you found a quiet place to sit down away from the other patrons.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked.

“What?” You looked at him with surprise, did he hear you after all?

“I just meant it’s a new place and I know sometimes it can be hard to sleep.” He assured, seeing he’d caused you some sort of unease. You shook your head,

“Oh, uh, yeah I slept fine. Thanks.” You took a sip of your latte and cursed your paranoia. A moment of silence passed between you.

“So, what are you doing out here?” You asked,

“Just traveling, seeing Europe.” He answered somewhat nervously. You don’t know why but it felt like he was hiding something. Which to be fair you couldn’t judge since you were doing the same.

“Where are you from? You speak perfect Romanian but I just can’t shake the feeling that you’re American like me.” You continued and James smirked,

“You got me. I was born in Brooklyn.” He admitted.

“I knew it.” You chuckled, taking another sip of coffee.

“And you? Where are you from?” He asked.

“Manhattan. At least that’s where I spent a lot of my life.” You answered and he nodded.

“Right. Do you know why you’re mother would’ve been here?” He wondered. You shrugged,

“No idea. There’s no record of her except for that address, everything else seems to have been lost.”

“Did you ever think maybe it was destroyed on purpose?” James asked, and you blinked in surprise. You hadn’t even considered the idea that someone had purposely destroyed all records of your mothers existence.

“No, I hadn’t thought of that. I’m not sure why someone would.” You said, but you knew exactly why. If you were as powerful as you are now you could only imagine she was just as powerful if not more. But who would do such a thing?

“Believe me, people do things for reasons you may never understand.” James said. You nodded, he was right after all. But even if you might never understand why, you needed to know who.

“Is there anything else you know about her? Anything at all.” You shook your head,

“Not much, my father mentioned she might’ve been on the run but he wasn’t sure from what or where.”

“Is he your birth father or?” James wondered.

“No, he adopted me when I was three. I didn’t know any better than so I thought he was my real father. He acted like it. I wish he was.” You admitted with sigh. James nodded.

“Well, knowing she might’ve been on the run is a good lead. I know some places she might’ve gone.”

“You’ve been on the run?” You asked, bringing your cup of coffee up to your lips.

“Maybe once or twice.” He huffed.

“Thanks again, for all of your help. You don’t even know me but it really means a lot. I owe you.” You admitted and James pursed his lips into a small smile.

“You’re company is payment enough.”

The blush crept up on your cheeks no matter how much you tried to hide it. You finished your coffee and headed James walked you back to the apartment, saying he was going to investigate one of those places. You asked to come along but he insisted it wasn’t the type of place you would want to be.

Later that evening, you heard a soft knock on your door. Looking through the small peep hole you saw James waiting outside patiently. For a moment you studied his features, the way he looked around him like he was expecting someone to appear. “I hope she’s not asleep.” You hadn’t meant to, but sometimes unintentionally you could hear others thoughts. Even though you normally would try to block them out, you were terribly curious about this man. And something in you knew he was more than he seemed. “Don’t mess up, Bucky. Maybe this is the only chance you got at normalcy.”

You opened the door and his eyes brightened,

“Uh, hi. Hope I didn’t disturb you.” He said awkwardly.

“No, I was just lost in thought, how did it go?” You asked. Putting that mental block back so more of his thoughts would creep through. You stepped aside to allow him entrance into your apartment,

“Uh, not bad.” He hesitated a moment before taking the cue and entering.

“Did you find something?” You asked eagerly.

“Kind of, someone there had seen someone named Mariana there a while back.” James answered.

“What else did they say about her?”

“That she seemed paranoid, like someone was after her and if she stopped too long she’d be found.” He said.

“Did she ever mention who? Or what?” You inquired, gesturing for him to take a seatr at the small kitchen table. James shook his head and sat down,

“They didn’t know who was coming after her. However.” James paused as you sat down across from him, anticipating his next words.

“They did say a group of men, like bounty hunters, came in asking about her not long after she left.” He finished and you took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“That would make sense why her records were destroyed, someone doesn’t want her to be found.” You surmised.

“Y/N.” James hesitated before he spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t know any reason why someone would try to erase her?”

You did know. It wasn’t a certain answer but it was the most logical one. But should you tell him? Does he deserve to know the truth of who you are? How you struggle daily to keep your powers under control. How you felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

“Y/N?” He asked again and you snapped yourself back out of your thoughts. Looking into his eyes, you saw something you hadn’t seen before. Past the tiredness you saw pain, intense pain. And do you decided to tell the truth,

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” You started, your eyes shifting to your hands fidgeting on the table.

“When I was little, something happened to me. I could start hearing peoples thoughts, voices in my head fighting for dominance.” You paused, looking up to see James watching you intently but you didn’t sense any judgement.

“Then I started being able to move things without touching them. I’d broken a lot of glass and antiques on accident. As I grew I was able to get it under control a little better but sometimes when I’m unconscious or angry I can’t keep it at bay. It’s like a monster inside me at all times just waiting to be let out.” You finished, still nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for him to leave or curse at you for being a mutant and hiding the danger. Instead, he took took the glove on his left hand off, revealing a gleaming metal hand.

“I know what that feels like. To feel like a monster, like theres someone else living inside you.” His voice trembled slightly as he flexed the metal fingers. You reached out to place your hand on his, the cool metal stinging your warm hand. He looked at you with surprise, no one had held that hand. That hand had brought nothing but pain and suffering. But he didn’t pull away from your touch,

“I’m sorry.” You said, moving your hand back. James shook his head,

“Don’t be sorry. One day, I’ll tell you about how I got it.”

“I’m glad I met you, James.” You smiled solemnly.

“I’m glad I met you.”

#bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #buckybarnes #sebastianstan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you

204 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 8 months

Text

sparks (04/04)

But I promise you this I'll always look out for you

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 9.0k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

now yes, the epilogue is officially coming soon haha

hello loves! hope you are having a wonderful day!

I made an announcement about the change in the story so if for some reason you didn't read it, don't worry, here I will explain again what happened:)

the reason why I decided to add a part 4 to the fic is very simple: the chapter was too long for the epilogue and when I say too long I mean really long. and I didn't want to bore you or fill you with too much, believe me that the epilogue was exaggeratedly long:(

I'm sorry if it wasn't what you expected, but I decided the best and I really hope you like it a lot, after all it's not the end yet😚

that's all, I won't keep you any longer, enjoy!

Aemond Targaryen had never felt so miserable in his life.

The trip to Casterly Rock was one of the most important in his entire working career and yet it was the worst trip he had ever attended in his life.

His mind would not leave him alone and the urge to cry along with the anxiety and desperation he felt was too much. And it was so much that he couldn't control it.

But outside of that, he didn't care too much about the event, socializing and having conversations with other important businessmen, as if it wasn't something he did every day, nor did he attend to the press which was what he avoided the most nor did he care about Larys Strong and Alys Rivers.

He honestly didn't care about anything.

At least nothing outside of the important thing that was his meeting with his partner Jason Lannister and attending his conference with the board of directors.

He didn't care that this would later lead to 'serious consequences,' if you could call it that, with his grandsire.

Even after he caught up again with Jason Lannister and properly attended the conference with the board of directors, as soon as it was all over, he took his flight back to King's Landing in a needy and desperate manner.

And the first thing he did after landing was to look for you and try to talk to you. Although he must have known that you would not let him find you.

Your university is extremely large and although he tried to find you by asking the administration and coordination of your university for your varied schedule, they did not give him anything, as they cannot give out their students' personal and private information so openly to strangers.

They only do so on occasions that require it and are extremely necessary with hard evidence, such as to a family member of the student for an emergency or something like that.

And Aemond honestly didn't blame them, as he looked extremely desperate and like a madman, especially when they told him they couldn't give him that information.

So he went to your work, where he knew it would be easier to find you, but again… he was unsuccessful because you wouldn't let him.

"Uhm… I'm sorry, but she's not here."

Your coworker told him and judging by her face, he knew instantly that she was lying, especially by the pitiful face she was giving him amidst the assurance she wants to create by saying her words.

"Please, just tell her I need to talk to her," he tells her pleadingly, feeling like he will burst into tears at any second.

She lets out a long breath, as she looks away from his gaze for a moment, looking hesitant, nervous and even watching him with pity.

"I'm really sorry but… she hasn't presented for days now and I haven't really seen her."

"But I need to talk to her as soon as possible," he insists, sad and still with a hint of hope that he can fix this, "Do you know where I could find her after her classes and work?"

"I-I…" she starts to say nervously, biting her lips, then completely avoiding eye contact with him "I'm sorry but I don't know. Like I said, I haven't seen her, so I'm not aware of her plans after work."

He takes a deep breath, as he runs a hand through his hair and also over his face, feeling his heart beating too fast, losing patience, losing hope, feeling completely desperate and frustrated.

"Please," he begs, not knowing what else to do, "Please tell me. I really need to see her and talk to her. I'm worried."

Sophia, not knowing what else to say, can't help but feel uncomfortable and again averts her gaze from his.

"I'm sorry but I haven't seen her and I really don't know where she might be."

Aemond watches her for a few seconds without saying anything else even with his sad and desperate face, understanding perfectly that he wouldn't get anything from her about you.

He sees how she is more than willing to keep lying for you and even though he feels completely desperate and frustrated, he knows it's not her fault, so he decides not to push her too hard.

So he took a deep breath and tried to sound calmer.

"Okay, I understand, thank you," he says resignedly, "But if you see her, please tell her that I came looking for her and needed to talk to her," he tells her one last time, "Tell her to please consider it."

And Sophie nods with a sympathetic nod, still watching him with that pity.

"Sure, I will."

And he nods back.

"Thank you."

That time Aemond came out of the coffee shop completely disappointed, having the foolish hope that you would come out of hiding and stop him after the little show he gave to your coworker completely sad and desperate.

But of course, that didn't happen.

Upon returning to the apartment, nothing felt the same anymore. Aemond now all he feels now is a deep loneliness and sadness that eats him alive inside as he finds himself alone in that place, a place that was once home to him and you, where you both started a little life together as a couple.

With loneliness in his chest and in the middle of the apartment, he sees everything around him with his melancholic eye and face.

Everything now felt like a painful reminder of what he had lost.

The place is completely permeated with memories where every room and corner tells a story of his relationship with you.

The cushions on the couch where you used to cuddle and watch movies together, the kitchen island where you shared with each other your day to day separately and the kitchen where you made food or washed dishes together, laughing and talking about anything.

Aemond then goes to the bedroom, where he now sees your empty desk where there is no longer your laptop, your lamp and all those pens and markers with which you used to make notes for your classes, nor the various sheets and folders with which you used to do your projects and research.

So he understands why you decided to leave him, because even though it was never intentional and the least he wanted to do was hurt you, he still did.

Your vanity is also completely empty, where so many times you spent hours doing your makeup happy and energetic singing your favorite songs.

And other nights you would remove your makeup crying for him and because he never put a serious stop to his work by standing you up.

And as he looks at the bed, only the memories invade him more, beginning to feel his eye watering.

The two of you cuddling, him taking refuge in your arms after a stressful day at his job or you taking refuge in his arms after a stressful day at college. Also before bedtime, the two of you would talk about anything silly until you fell asleep, where the moment felt more intimate than anywhere else.

And Aemond loved those moments, as did you, where you both shared space on the comfort of your bed.

Aemond then wanting to return to the living room, he stops in the middle of the hallway looking at the door with a serious and at the same time pained expression, where he also remembers that day when you were here and he was at the entrance waiting for Cole, where everything happened.

But it's also where you both made love and showed that love to each other with that passion, with that affection and with that deep intimacy of just the two of you that was nothing ordinary or common.

You were just two people in love loving and enjoying each other with that complicity and that unique union that characterized them.

Letting out a huge breath, he then plops down on the couch, staring at a spot in the living room in silence, feeling completely alone and hopeless.

And he hates it.

He absolutely hates the feeling.

Just as he hates the feeling of emptiness in his heart that seems impossible to fill. Because he knows it can never be filled by anyone else. Only you.

And that's when Aemond starts to really break down, realization and acceptance slowly creeping into his mind, eating him alive, destroying him, leaving him with nothing.

Until it happens and in the midst of his silence and loneliness, he starts to cry without being able to help it anymore.

He hates everything, his job, his grandsire, the association with Alys Rivers, the press, absolutely everything and also himself, for letting you slip through his fingers and not doing anything more efficient from the beginning to avoid the breakup.

Because if he had, you would still be with him.

It's only until Aemond really feels miserable and like he can't breathe that he decides to call the only person who can get to him sooner, really not wanting to be alone, needing someone to be able to reassure him.

So he calls the one person he thinks might be able to help him and reassure him.

He would have called you, of that there is no doubt, you would be his first choice, but you have blocked him from everywhere, from every social media, calls and messages.

He would have called Hel too, but she's in Highgarden, Hells, he would have even called Aegon, but he's in Storm Ends.

"Yes, Aemond?"

Rhaenyra Targaryen answers on the other end of the call, and Aemond really can't formulate coherent sentences for every sob.

He tells her your name, that he can't find you, that you've blocked him from everywhere, he mentions his grandsire, the company, loneliness, sadness and that it all happened too fast, that he needs her and doesn't know what to do.

And soon after that Aemond says he doesn't want to be there anymore, so they both leave the apartment and with every step he takes away from the place that used to be a home for him, he feels an increasingly heavier weight than before in his heart.

Soon Rhaenyra arrives at the apartment to help her half brother, not asking him anything about what has him like this while he continues to cry and holds her hand tightly.

Rather Rhaenyra tries to reassure him by telling him that she is there for him.

It is only a matter of time before his entire family knows of his breakup with you, instantly Hel calling him, as does Aegon, Hel being the more surprised and incredulous of the two, wanting to know what has happened.

Since Aemond has no vacation and can't afford to miss work with a few extremely important and one hundred percent justifiable exceptions, he soon finds himself setting foot inside the building.

Though they both know, as does their whole family, that it was because of their grandsire and everything to do with the company, also because of Alys Rivers.

And they are not surprised when Aemond implies he had something to do with it, not saying anything else, clearly because he doesn't want to talk about it.

All his workers notice the down and serious mood of the next boss, as it is also noticeable that he doesn't want to talk to anyone and doesn't want anyone to talk to him more than necessary, so he just locks himself in his office to continue with his work.

But as soon as he starts his work day, inevitably having that hope by looking at his phone screen from time to time that you will call or text him, Eleanor calls him and warns him that he has a meeting in ten minutes with his grandsire.

This makes his mood worse, even though he knew it would only be a matter of time, but he reluctantly gets up and heads for the conference room.

And the moment Otto enters the room, clearly with his annoyed and frustrated face, the whole place fills with tension. And when Otto makes it clear to him that he is not happy at all, still Aemond maintains an emotionless and indifferent face.

"I can't believe how irresponsible you're being, truly."

Otto begins to say with incredulous surprise and a frown on his face, watching him completely annoyed.

"I asked you for one, just one thing on your trip to Casterly Rock."

"The only important thing on that trip was to attend my meeting with Jason Lannister and also the conference with the board of directors, in both of which I did perfectly well," Aemond says still completely indifferent.

"Don't you want to play dumb with me, Aemond," he warns him through his teeth, "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about."

"Look, I'm not in the mood for this right now—

"And you think I am?" he inquires instantly, "You think I'm not tired of telling you the same old thing over and over again?" he says annoyed, "Wasn't I clear with you when I told you I didn't want Rivers to cause a scene for me again because of you and what's the first thing she does when she comes back from that trip?"

"For fuck's sake, you close your fucking contract with her!"

Explodes Aemond annoyed against him without being able to control himself anymore, tired and annoyed of him, but of course Otto also responds in the same way.

"No, this is your job! She wants you, not me! And now that you're finally done with Y/N, you can do something about it, something more than necessary, but you do nothing!"

Then again something inside Aemond snaps at the mention of your name and the breakup, leaving him completely silent and watching his grandsire with his parted lips.

Everything in his mind is still fresh, his emotions are still running high and that he has mentioned the breakup as a good thing so that he can finally whore himself out to Alys without any guilt and restraint, as his grandsire has asked him to do, only makes his gaze turn dark and one of complete anger towards him.

And Otto, as he is looking him straight in the eye, notices that change within him and in his gaze, but he doesn't move, doesn't flinch, and continues firm.

"So you know."

Aemond says in a low but firm tone, watching him intently and without even blinking, even with that dark and determined look, making Otto watch him silently for a moment, then swallowing hard and finally speaking.

"Of course I know. Just because I'm not home much, doesn't mean I'm not informed of what's going on with my family."

"And you're happy now?"

He inquires him really without much emotion, with an incredibly calm and soft tone of voice that surprises Otto, while now Aemond's gaze reflects the slight pain, watching him completely attentively, being strong and as much as he can in front of him, clenching his jaw.

And Otto says nothing, just watches him, which Aemond considers him a coward, as what he wanted so badly has finally happened and he says nothing.

"I bet you do," he answers her question for him, watching him bitterly.

Otto lets out a long breath.

"Look, I know you cared about her, and I feel sorry for you, but the company—

"No, that's not true, you don't feel the slightest bit sorry for me," he interrupts him with a disinterested tone, "She broke up with me because of you, but also because of me. And I'm sure when you found out, you were so pleased and had more hope that I would finally do something about Rivers and the association," he says dispassionately.

"Aemond, I'm just asking you to be professional and fulfill your obligations as heir to this company. I'm asking you because I care about you and because you can't get stuck thinking about a girl, instead of your job, your company."

"Don't mention her," he tells her instantly serious and with a threatening tone and look, "I don't want you to talk about her, ever again."

Otto lets out a long breath.

"Rivers has given us a warning and a deadline for you to convince her to sign those papers. She's already upset and unpleasant enough thanks to you," he tells him seriously, "This whole process has gone on long enough, so either you act now or we lose her forever. And we're not going to have the conversation again about why it's important to partner with her company, are we?"

Aemond looks away from him, completely pissed off and annoyed, and then gets up from the swivel chair, intending to finally get the fuck out of here.

"I'm talking to you."

Otto tells him in a higher tone of voice, watching him seriously.

"Yes and I've heard enough."

"You will do as I have told you and you will do it now," he warns him.

Aemond scowls at him, then puts on an annoyed and more threatening face than before, placing his hands on the very expensive refined wooden table then leaning towards him as well with his threatening posture.

"You're not going to order me around anymore."

"Aemond, do you really want to force me to do something I don't really want to?"

"Don't worry, I know you really do want to and I honestly don't care. But believe me it wouldn't be good for you, after all… I remind you that you're forgetting your place."

The fight and silence builds the tension further, as Otto and Aemond stare menacingly and defiantly at each other, each with their differences being more than clear, when suddenly the door to the conferences bursts open.

This breaks all the tension and also draws the attention of both of them, who look towards the door and under the doorway stands Rhaenyra, whom Otto observes slightly surprised and completely confused.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says as she places a soft smile, "I hope it's not something important."

Aemond turns his gaze back to his grandsire for a moment with his jaw clenched, who continues to stare at Rhaenyra confused and this time with a questioning look, showing his annoyance at the sight of her.

"No, we were done," Aemond makes clear, his voice in a serious and low tone, to turn his gaze back to her.

"And what are you doing here?"

Otto inquires Rhaenyra, who is not surprised by his attitude towards her, as she is used to it and doesn't really care.

"I came to speak with Aemond," she says then turns her gaze to her half-brother, "Your secretary told me you were here and I thought maybe you could talk to me, if you're not busy."

He nods in her direction.

"Sure," and she nods back, waiting for him as well.

But Aemond turns his gaze to his grandsire, who also looks back at him, confused and questioning to see that in his gaze he still intends to fight him with his threatening posture.

Again they both stare at each other, where Otto stares at him completely serious without saying anything and Aemond continues threatening, completely serious.

"If you pay someone to notify all the press and all the media anonymously of my breakup with Y/N or tell only Rivers to take advantage of me, believe me I will publicly announce and tarnish your image about how you tried to whore me out to Rivers with proof."

He threatens and Otto gasps for a moment.

"And i will tell worse, that she was also seeking an intimate relationship with me, a woman who has almost my twenty years on me."

And without saying anything else, Aemond leaves the room together with Rhaenyra without waiting and without hearing any answer back from his grandsire, for the first time in a long time having won the fight and leaving him completely speechless.

"What? You thought I didn't know?" he asks, "She doesn't say her age and she doesn't look nearly forty, but she is, so we don't want any of that, do we?"

He observes him expectantly,

"It will be a disastrous scandal. And it won't be good for her, nor for you and the company. I also know it won't be good for me, my mother, my siblings or my entire family. But I will do it if you leave me no choice and I won't give a fuck, because it will all have been your fault," he makes it clear.

At that moment he feels liberated and empowered, as he has finally left him in his place and has not done what he always ordered her to do, while he experiences a sense of relief and renewed self-confidence.

But unfortunately, that feeling doesn't last forever. Or at least it doesn't last once he's outside the company walls.

And that's because he's still thinking and longing for you.

He tried a few more times to try to find you, asking all the people he and you have in common where you might be or where you live now saying he needed to talk to you, but no one would give him an answer, making him miserable.

Even at work, he couldn't concentrate, because all the time he was thinking about you and if he could do his work, it was all thanks to Eleonor, who would notice his tired face and the bags under his eyes, as well as notice how hard he was trying.

She would see him drinking coffee more than usual and it worried her, but knowing how stubborn he is, she knew there was nothing she could do.

And once he got home, no one knew the sadness and loneliness that consumed him completely.

Even sometimes when he couldn't sleep, he kept looking at the selfie of you and him on his phone screen that he hasn't taken down, both of you smiling and more than happy, instantly feeling the pain in his chest and the tears about to run down his cheek.

It's going on a month since you decided to end the relationship but Aemond is still haunted by the moments you both shared and the 'what ifs' that haunt his mind.

Every day, the pain of the breakup seems to increase rather than decrease. At every moment of distraction, also at work or doing the most ordinary thing in life, like making a coffee, Aemond gets lost in his thoughts, remembering you.

And in every memory, he blames himself for what had gone wrong, thinking of all the ways he could have acted differently and done more for both of you, for you.

And he couldn't accept that he would simply never see you again, that it was all over, he needs you and he needs you so badly every time he starts crying and blaming himself at the same time.

He feels completely trapped in the memory of what the relationship was and feels unable to get over you, the woman who had and still means everything to him.

It is not until Rhaenyra and her mother began to notice Aemond's instability and begin to worry about him that even Helaena decides to fly to King's Landing to be there for him, reporting everything to Aegon.

And fortunately Aemond doesn't push her away when she visits him by surprise, telling him that she has come to stay with him as long as necessary.

And he hugs her tightly and cries on her shoulder, asking her not to leave him alone, to please help him recover you, that he needs you, that he understands that everything was his fault but that he deserves at least one more conversation with you.

The people Aemond cares about are there for him, even Rhaenyra, but Helaena is the one who is almost all the time with him at home and also at the company, running the Highgarden company from there, helping him heal at the same time.

Unfortunately you never responded to Helaena's messages, neither to Baela's.

So even though it hurts Helaena to see her brother like this, she knows that you are hurt too, she knows your reasons why you did what you did and she doesn't blame you for it.

But Aemond can't.

And though he doesn't know it and doesn't even think about it, you are just as or worse off than he is, trying just as hard as he is to cope with the breakup, barely being functional in your day to day life and in having enough energy, being completely broken inside.

He is still immensely in love with you and every day that goes by and he doesn't see you or hear from you, it's complete torture.

He even stopped being seen in public and stopped attending events, focusing entirely on the company and nothing else.

It's not until another full month passes that one day, when Aemond wakes up to find Helaena in the kitchen with her face completely pale, her eyes wide open and her lips parted with her phone in hand, she gives him the news that he knew would happen someday but still takes him by surprise.

His father has died.

And he knows what that means, everyone knows.

He is the successor and literally overnight, he is now the boss, officially. And with that begins the real chaos for Aemond Targaryen.

It was a moment he was looking forward to but at the same time not because of the great responsibility that would fall on him, all the great weight.

But first of all, the whole Targaryen family is busy with a funeral and taking an indefinite rest, all of them and him especially hiding from the press and everyone.

1 month later

"So…

Speaks the calculated voice of Alys Rivers with a condescending tone, looking expectantly at Otto Hightower in front of her as she slowly turns in the swivel chair she is sitting in, having her uncle Larys Strong next to her, who in comparison to her is calmer.

"He won't show up?"

She inquires as she fiddles with the pen in her hand, twirling it between her fingers with her perfectly painted dark scarlet fingernails, raising an eyebrow in Otto's direction.

"Of course he will, he knows how important this is to us," he tells her immediately, "It's just that with the death of his father, he and his siblings still need a little more time. It's been very recent still."

"We still mourn the death of Viserys Targaryen," Larys Strong says in a soft tone and Otto nods in his direction.

But Alys is not at all pleased, for months now.

"We've been waiting for almost fifteen minutes."

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, honestly—

The door suddenly opens, interrupting Otto and drawing the attention of the three in the conference room who turn their heads and see Aemond entering the room unhurriedly and calmly.

"Sorry for the delay," he says as he approaches his place, "I was taking an important call."

Rivers instantly looks at him in a penetrating manner as she continues to fiddle with the pen in her fingers, while his grandsire watches him seriously.

"More important than this?" hisses Otto quietly through his teeth.

And still not caring, he takes a seat to adopt an equally nonchalant posture, looking even annoyed that he has to be in this room with these people, causing Rivers stress and frustration, as well as his grandsire for his attitude and lack of interest.

"Yes."

Aemond replies to him without dissimulation and without caring.

"I don't think you have understood the gravity of the matter, Mrs. Targaryen," Alys Rivers speaks, catching the attention of the three, looking directly at him, "I gave you a deadline to sign the association papers and you still haven't given me one good reason why my company should be associated with yours."

Aemond shrugs, observing her indifferently.

"That my company is the most important, innovative and efficient in the entire country is not reason enough for you?"

"That's not what I meant."

"We're talking about business and what's in the best interest of our companies, aren't we?"

Rivers clenches her jaw.

"I think you know perfectly well that a partnership requires more than that, it's also about building interpersonal relationships."

"As far as I know, you are a co-owner of Riverlands Group and the one who actually founded the company was you, Larys Strong," he observes the man, "You shouldn't decide if you want to sign these papers or not?"

Otto throws daggers at him with his eyes and an utterly deadly stare, but Aemond doesn't even notice, as well as Rivers starts to get annoyed. So before Larys Strong can speak, she speaks first.

"We both work as a team and make decisions together," she tells him instantly, wanting to make it clear.

"You seem to make all the decisions."

"Aemond—

"As far as I know, it's not in your best interest to lose this opportunity to be able to partner with my company," Rivers speaks with a firmer, more serious and determined tone, "And I've been very patient and accessible for months now."

"Also as far as I know, months ago we attended an event together and it was you who announced how proud you were to have a partnership between us in process to everyone, yet you are the one who hasn't signed the papers, so what exactly is it that you need or want from me or the company for you to sign them?"

He dares in asking with a challenging tone and look, watching her completely intently, wanting to know how bold she is, pushing her a little to say or not to say what she really wants from him.

As Otto hides in his chair and holds a hand to his face, not being able to believe this is really happening.

And Rivers looks completely serious and annoyed at Aemond, who starts to look amused by his lack of response. So the next thing he does is point to the contracts on the table in front of him, extending them to both of them.

"So… do we have a deal or not?"

He inquires, not wanting to waste any more time and wanting to get this over with once and for all, watching them expectantly.

Strong and Rivers exchange a glance, where Rivers still has his serious and annoyed look, but also has something else on his mind after fully analyzing this new Aemond now that he is he boss.

So he silently nods in his uncle's direction, making Strong extend his hand to place the papers in front of him to sign them.

But just as his fingertips touch the paper, Aemond abruptly puts them back in front of him, leaving them out of his reach, drawing the attention of all three instantly and more so of his grandsire who already feels completely relieved after so much.

But Aemond's attitude is alarming just then.

"Before you sign, I need to tell you something important."

All three of them frown, especially his grandsire.

"And it can't be after the two finally sign?" he inquires without having the patience for any more of this.

Aemond lets out a long breath, looking at his grandfather and then Rivers directly, wanting to be completely clear with his words.

"I want you to know that in another occasion I would have really appreciated having the opportunity to work with you and partner with your company, I really would," he tells her honestly, "But you never acted the right way, neither did you," he turns to his grandsire to focus back on Rivers, pausing slightly, "So I don't need this association anymore."

Surprise and disbelief completely takes over the three of them, but more so on Rivers and Otto, who exchange confused and puzzled looks.

"Aemond, what are you saying?" his grandsire inquires.

"I'm saying that I don't care and I'm not going to do what you tell me anymore nor am I going to let people like you intrude into my personal life," he then tells Rivers with determination.

Rivers looks at him completely offended.

"Me intruding in your personal life? What are you talking about?"

"I think you know perfectly well what i'm talking about, so since you have nothing more to do here, I'm sorry for wasting too much of your time, but you can go now."

His grandsire looks at him in complete surprise and disbelief.

"Aemond—

"If you think I'm going to sit here and allow this treatment of me by you, you are very wrong, I will not tolerate it for another second," Rivers says, getting up from her chair, annoyed and offended, "You need me but this is your loss. Let's see how long it takes before your company goes bankrupt and you lose everything."

Aemond lets out a bitter laugh.

"No, in fact I don't need you," he makes it clear, amused, "And if I needed you, believe me I wouldn't have partnered with you even as my last option," he tells him decisively, "Do you think you're the only company that has partnerships with Essos? Not only you, but also Rodrik Greyjoy, the owner of the Pike company in the Iron Islands, my new partner".

He says and Otto Hightower looks on in complete surprise, not expecting that at all. And this only causes more anger and indignation in Alys Rivers.

"You're going to regret this," Rivers tells him humiliated and annoyed as she grabs her purse and then heads for the exit with big strides, "And my company is never going to be associated with yours, ever!"

"Have a nice day."

Aemond tells her not forgetting his manners and the doors slam shut with a loud slam that still doesn't completely flinch, then looks at his grandfather who looks like he's going to explode at any moment.

"You can leave too," he tells her nonchalantly, rising from his seat, "I've had enough of this shit. I expect your resignation by tomorrow at the latest."

"My resignation?" he repeats, completely bewildered and surprised.

"Yes, your resignation," he affirms him" "Rhaenyra will now take your place while Daemon is left running Dragonstone."

"W-what…? Aemond, you can't do this! I helped you, I supported you, I broke my back for you, I made you what you are now and I put you where you are!"

"Actually yes I can and in fact I already have," he says dispassionately, heading for the exit, "I'm the boss now."

And even hearing their protests and shouts, he leaves the room with him following, causing a huge scene, but once he makes his way to his office, he slams the door in his face and asks Cole to take him out of here immediately and he instantly complies with his order.

And when Aemond sits in his chair, he lets out a long sigh and closes his eye as he drops his head completely on the backrest, no longer feeling that weight on his shoulders and that tension he felt every day all over his body, finally feeling free, relieved and at peace.

It honestly feels good, after so long.

And he sees the positives of him finally being the boss, as he can now do these kinds of things, things he couldn't do before and finally give him that needed balance to his life and work.

But as soon as he leaves his work space and gets home, he again feels that emptiness in his chest and that sadness, not feeling full and like him, knowing full well that you are missing for his life to finally be perfect.

He wishes he could have done all this with you by his side. He still wants to fix everything between him and you, but you being off his radar, it's just impossible.

And he still loves you too much to use money to try to find out where you are, knowing he couldn't do that to you, the woman he still loves with every fiber of his body and heart.

He still misses you, very much. He wants to have one more reason to be this new person he has become, a better person really.

But he respects your decision, even though he still thinks he deserved more.

That same day he sends a message to Helaena asking her when she will come to King's Landing and if she wants to stay with him at his house and that same day at night he receives a message from Floris Baratheon, a friend he and you have in common, finally things being in his favor.

The moment he so deserved arrives when Floris invites him to a pub in the center of the city to celebrate his birthday. And since he knows you and Floris are close friends, he knows you'll be there.

You thank the driver for dropping you off at your destination after paying him, then you get out of the car, close the door and head towards the entrance of the pub that Floris has chosen to celebrate his birthday.

Today you don't know what's wrong with you, as you suddenly have a very positive mood and attitude that hasn't been seen in you for months, clearly since what happened that day.

But today you have all the willingness to have fun, celebrate with Floris, have a couple of drinks and see what else the night takes you to, you really need it.

So you open the door of the pub to enter, instantly ringing that typical bell that announces a new customer, which draws the attention of some people already inside the place, but you focus on finding Floris and his friends at all the scattered tables.

"Y/N!"

Suddenly someone shouts your name and you turn your head, seeing that it's Floris, calling you from the table they are at and you start to smile, about to head towards all of them, when suddenly, your gaze crosses with a blue eye that you know all too well among all the people at the table.

A blue eye you haven't seen for months.

And your whole world around you fades away.

You freeze completely and a shiver runs down your entire back as you stare at him in shock, attentively and with your lips parted, definitely not expecting to see him, at all.

Your heart starts pounding, your legs turn to jelly and your throat goes dry. You don't know what to do, let alone what to say, you just can't speak or react, nothing.

You don't feel any more that mood of before, that disposition and that attitude, you simply feel like a little girl who wants to hide behind her mother's legs.

The memories of the relationship, the happy moments, the painful moments, everything you went through together comes back to you in an instant. Just as you remember that day, when it all ended, feeling sick to your stomach, suddenly no longer feeling strength in your whole body.

You feel completely trapped in a sea of emotions flooding your mind. The feelings that you had tried to suppress for months, now overwhelm you.

But not only does your whole history with him come back to you, you are also affected by seeing him again physically after so many months because you had not even seen him through a photo on the social media after the breakup.

And to see him now after the passing of his father and that he is now the owner of the most important company in the country, is just more of a surprise for you.

You try not to let the surprise be so noticeable on your face, although you probably already failed at it, seeing now his gorgeous short platinum hair, giving him a completely different air and look, although not in a bad way.

So you assume that those are the reasons why now he has changed. You can't say the same for yourself as he has really changed, physically.

You had never imagined an Aemond with his hair cut short, you never thought about it and now seeing it… it makes you feel a sensation all over your body that you really can't explain.

He looks more… mature and like… an expert in business, which is what he really is. He looks even younger for his age, also more handsome. He looks like a big businessman.

Unable to help yourself, you still can't move, just standing there, clearly affected after seeing your ex-boyfriend again, who Floris immediately jumps to your rescue, while at the same time you see how Aemond says something under his breath to Liam, a friend of his and also yours, to then get up and head towards the bathroom without looking any further in your direction.

You follow him with your gaze, swallowing hard and starting to tremble, while Floris stops in front of you with a small reassuring smile.

"Hey, I'm so happy you came."

She hugs you and you let her, as you really need it and she knows you need it too.

"Easy," she murmurs comfortingly in your ear, "You've got this, take a deep breath."

You blink, as if to clear your thoughts that way, then drop your head defeatedly on her shoulder, inhaling deeply, as she has told you to.

"I'm sorry," she tells you with some pity, feeling your body tense, "The guys mentioned it to him but he said I still wouldn't tell him anything, so in order not to make him feel bad, I decided to invite him too," she tells you sadly.

"No, no, it's okay."

You tell her instantly, turning away to watch her, seeing Floris as your eyes are full of emotions and with effort, you try to nod and understand her, although you really do, since after all, Floris is not only your friend, she is also his friend and you can't blame her, you would never do that.

"I-I… I… I know, I just… I didn't expect it," you confess, trying to compose yourself.

At least he's out of your sight now and that helps a little but still, you know he'll be back soon.

Floris takes your hands gently, offering you his physical support that she hoped would be enough for you in comforting you.

"I know it's all still very fresh in your mind, so if you need to leave, that's fine with me, I'll understand perfectly, don't worry."

"No, no, I mean, yes, it all still feels very fresh but…" you let out a long breath, "Sooner or later it was bound to happen, you know? And it's your birthday!" you exclaim out of nerves, "I-I can't just leave, I-I…" you bite your lips, "Happy birthday, by the way."

Floris smiles.

"Thank you bestie."

You smile back as best you can, still feeling your mind working at full speed, your body feels it more tense than usual and you unconsciously keep on the lookout for him, because he might come back at any second.

You give her the gift you bought for her, then she gives a few words of motivation and finally she leads you with almost everyone to the table.

You greet old friends and also meet other friends of Floris, trying to look calm and relaxed at all times, when in reality, inside you are a bundle of nerves and not calm at all, not at all.

You can see that all your friends… and Aemond's friends too, know that he and you are no longer together, which causes you some discomfort, but for Floris, you decide to face it, him too.

"At any point in the evening you can leave if you need to, really," she reassures you again before you take a seat and you nod in her direction, understanding.

Meanwhile Aemond in the bathroom leans fully into the sink as he breathes through his mouth and closes his eye for a moment, trying to calm himself, letting a sigh escape his lips.

He honestly doesn't understand what has happened to him.

He thought he could, that this is all he's ever wanted so he could have you back with him, but… when he barely laid his eye on you the moment you walked into the place with five meters in front of him, he felt like he was going back to the past.

For all these months, even yesterday, I was waiting for this moment. He was waiting to see you again, to try to talk to you, to try to get you back and now?

He just felt like a scared little boy.

His heart broke into pieces again as he remembered that day, when you decided to break up with him.

And how he felt at that moment, besides the weeks after when he tried to look for you and you wouldn't let him and blocked him from everywhere, he relived it again, feeling every emotion, remembering every tear he shed and all the other pressures he had on him because of his grandsire.

Not to mention the death of his father and his promotion in the company, all in a matter of days, making everything worse.

And although everything is totally different now, he still recognizes that he did not prepare for this moment.

Everything still hurts him, he no longer feels capable, he feels that you will break his heart again, although no more than he broke yours, where he did nothing about it, he only asked for forgiveness, as if that was enough.

Aemond looks at his reflection and tells himself that he must keep calm, keep his posture and not make this any more uncomfortable than it already will be.

But at all times he has this longing in his heart to be able to get you back.

While you now find yourself sitting, having a place at the big table, basically at the other end, away from where he is sitting, trying to calm yourself down from now on, although it is costing you a lot.

And not a moment too soon, Floris places a beer in your hand, murmuring in your ear that your mind needs to stop thinking and worrying too much.

And just as you take a sip, Aemond returns.

You try not to look at him too much, just the same way he tries not to look at you too much as he takes a seat next to Liam again, but unconsciously it's impossible.

The table by the others is full of laughter, while the pub is full of music, with a party atmosphere that really contrasts with your whirlwind of emotions and also with his.

Even though you don't want to, yet when he doesn't notice, you watch him. And this frustrates you. You want to enjoy Floris' birthday, but you can't help the tension you emanate along with him even though they are extreme to extreme.

Every time his gaze meets yours, you avert yours to the other side, nervous and alert, telling yourself that you can't let this disturb you for the entire time you'll be here.

"We're just here to celebrate Floris."

You repeat to yourself in your mind constantly.

On the other side, Aemond's mind doesn't stop spinning. Every time his eye meets yours, he feels a knot in his stomach and in order not to feel too much, he takes a sip of his beer as well and tries to appear unconcerned.

You both feel completely vulnerable, you don't want to make the atmosphere more tense and uncomfortable, so you make an effort to think about Floris and his friends.

You try to distract yourself by talking to other friends, talking to Floris and observing the whole place, but Aemond is always on your mind.

And even though you shouldn't, you ask yourself inevitable questions, unable to control it.

How is he doing?

How is he coping with the fact that he is now the boss?

Did he suffer a lot because of his father's death?

Must he hate me for ending things with him like that?

Did the association with Alys Rivers' company happen?

You let out a long breath, hating your mind at that moment, but you also inevitably begin to answer those questions with assumptions.

You assume he must be fine, since he's here, which surprises you since he didn't have time for almost anything before, so his new position at the company must give him a little more free time, although you don't really know.

You think about whether he must hate you for breaking his heart in such a cruel way, taking advantage of the fact that he had to leave to get on his plane and you guess he must still be seeing Rivers, even the breakup probably made things easier.

You bite the inside of your cheek and scold yourself, since you don't really know anything and take a long swig from your beer bottle, having had enough of you.

Aemond, on his own, in his mind was trying to find a reason or a good excuse to approach you, but he couldn't find the right moment. He wished the words would flow naturally, but every time he imagined a conversation, he felt blocked and unable to utter a word.

As the night progresses, the tension between the two persists, but fortunately it also becomes a little more bearable.

Although you have not spoken and have only exchanged glances, you had taken an important step in facing the past in that same place. But although the purpose was to have fun, neither he nor you did, it was impossible and you just sat in your places for Floris, nothing else.

Luckily everyone else didn't feel uncomfortable or tense because of you two, as little by little the table fills up with more drinks, the guys and he also smoke, the music helps and most of them are getting drunk, except him and you.

Until the hours go by, it's a little past midnight and already some people are starting to leave, Floris' night of celebration slowly coming to an end.

When only Floris, Liam, Sarah, Jenna, him and you are left, therefore, Floris considers the night over. And that's your cue to leave, so you say goodbye to her and everyone except him, taking the opportunity to leave the pub as you see him busy asking for a cigarette.

As you leave the pub, you lean against the wall with your phone in hand and the Uber app on the screen, waiting for a driver to accept your ride, but it keeps asking you to wait every long minute, making you feel desperate and worried.

You know it's only a matter of time before they and he come out and see you here and that's what you don't want.

But luck in that regard is not in your favor.

After continuing to wait for five more long minutes, you grunt under your breath in frustration as the application doesn't tell you anything, besides it's too much to ask for but you don't blame that either as you recognize that your dorm is far from here and you also take the time into consideration.

When then, Floris and all of them leave the pub, instantly her and also him noticing you.

Floris instantly turns to you and you give her a tired and distressed look.

"What's wrong?" she asks you in a low voice.

You bite your lips as you stare at your phone in frustration and answer her in a low voice as well.

"No driver accepts my ride. I don't know what to do."

"Well, Aemond has offered to drive us," she tells you with some caution and even in a low voice, "I'm sure he'll have no problem driving you too."

And here's just what you didn't want.

"No, I-I…" you let out a long breath, "Maybe I should try another app or walk a little further."

"Have you lost your mind?" she reproaches you in a whisper.

"I'm not going to ask him to drive me too," you clarify, frustrated and sad, "I've had enough."

"Come on, Y/N. I'll ask him."

Aemond, actually hears everything from a distance and realizes the situation, so he notices how Floris watches him and also how you try to watch him from the corner of your eye, noticing how you move your fingers across the screen of your phone in a desperate way.

And just then Liam speaks in his direction.

"I don't think we're all going to fit," he tells him as he points to his car.

He lets out a long breath as he pulls his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the doors.

"Get in, everyone."

He says in his voice loud enough for everyone and especially you to hear, without even looking at you, he also says it with a nonchalant tone, then starts across the street, heading to his car, which is big and spacious enough for everyone.

He listens as you and Floris speak again, but it's not so audible to him anymore, with the others following him to the car as well.

Tonight hasn't been the best, neither was the way you both ended it, but he still cares about you and your well-being, as there was no way he was going to leave you here alone, at almost two in the morning.

And when he gets in the car, he thought he would have to stand still, waiting for you, to the point of having to tell you himself that he will drop you off at home, but in the end he sees you following Floris with a look that he can't really describe.

Liam gets in as co-pilot and all the girls settle in the back seats, you too.

And pretty soon he's driving through the city, watching you in the rearview mirror from time to time, unable to help himself, while you watch him too when he doesn't notice, biting the inside of your cheek and feeling completely nervous.

And you don't know if it was intentional, but it really wasn't, Aemond just started asking for directions and those who had their houses closest to them spoke, leaving Sarah first, then Floris, Liam and at the end there's Jenna and you.

"My dorm is in Walden Residence, it's on the first block of the university," she indicates to Aemond and then she looks at you, "You live in a dorm too?"

You nod, feeling unable to speak.

"In which residence?"

You swallow hard, as you lick your lips.

"Westbridge."

"Oh! Then you'll drop me off first, her dorm is further in the back," she says to Aemond, who starts the car again.

Oh fuck.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @n4forlife @iamavailablesstuff @ttkttt @elliaze @trshngyn @tsujifreya @imsoshygirl @watercolorskyy @kckt88 @zenka69 @yentroucnagol @crispmarshmallow @bellastwd @queenofshinigamis @strangersunghoon @happinessinthebeing @iloveallmyboys @twobluejeans @siriusdumblittlepuppy

taglist next part:

@anehkael @randomstory56 @crazylokonugget @minttea07

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen angst

611 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 1 year

Note

Steve having a senior little sister who has a crush on Eddie. Can barely string two words together any time he talks to her. She’s a cheerleader, her parents expect her to marry an Ivy League business major or a senator’s son or something. She kept her crush a secret until Jason calls him a freak in front of the whole cafeteria- and she punches him. Possibly breaking her hand. Most likely getting suspended or at the very least detention for quite a while.

I adore this so much

Never proofread- wrote half of this high, so if I'm sober and it sucks, I will be fixing it

~~~

Popularity came with the Harrigton name, and so did high expectations from everyone. Y/N was popular all throughout high school, following behind King Steve.

She was already known by everyone before she even introduced herself. Already accepted into the popular crowd, she joined cheer, something her mother wanted her to be part of.

Even though she was younger than Steve, she had a close relationship with him. Their parents had high standards for them, and it could get draining. Together, they learned to be there for each other when the disappointment started to settle in. They hung out all the time, which led her to be friends with Steve's friends.....including Eddie Munson.

Y/N had confidence, was very smart, well-mannered, and was all around a golden child. She knew how to make friends, she was kind, sweet, and friendly. It was easy for people to like her and it was easy for her to talk to anyone.

Except for Eddie.

The long-haired senior with brown eyes always had her tongue-tied. She always saw him in the halls but never had the courage to talk to him. He hated the popular crowd and he made that very clear. She had no chance at a friendship or any relationship with the boy.

Then Steve needed his wallet, meeting his friends for dinner but leaving his wallet in his bedroom. Y/N, who had no problem leaving her house whenever she could, brought his wallet to him.

That was the day Steve introduced her to Eddie Munson. He smiled and gave her a small wave. She felt judged by his stare, she knew he knew she was popular. But he is friends with ex-king Steve, maybe he'd give her a chance too.

"You have a gorgeous deer in the headlights look going on," Eddie teased with a smirk, using his hands to gesture to her face.

She felt her body heat up from her cheeks down to her neck. First impression and she was embarrassing herself. With a terrified squeak, she threw the wallet on the table and raced out of the restaurant.

~~~

Sadly after that, she did not improve her communication skills with the boy. Any time he spoke a word near or to her, she never had a response. Just staring as her brain shut off. If she's lucky, she'll get out half a sentence.

She hoped by spending more time with him it would get better, but it never did.

Whenever the group would hang out, she'd talk to Dustin and Robin. Her usual self taking control of the conversation. But the second Eddie walked in, took a seat, and threw his heavy boots on the table with his arms behind his head, she was silent.

~~~

At first Eddie thought she had a small crush on him. The way she'd squeak at his compliments and run in the other direction.

But the more he was around her, the more he felt like she didn't want to be near him. She was popular and never had any issues talking with people. She talked with Dustin and Robin, they weren't popular. Maybe Eddie was still socially under them but she didn't care about it. But once Eddie walked into the room, her lips went shut and she didn't speak a word.

The group accepted Eddie, even with his freak status. Maybe Y/N just wasn't ready for that yet.

~~~

Y/N hated that with every passing day, her crush grew stronger. And yet, she couldn't say one word to the guy.

A part of her is scared to admit she likes him. He wasn't at all what her parents would approve of. She didn't know exactly if Steve would be so on board with it. And she didn't see herself as his type in any sort of way.

Just a silly high school crush and she'll move on. End up with the guy who owns a business and is super clean. Someone her parents would want.

Even though she couldn't talk to him, she wasn't going to let others talk about him.

She was sitting at the lunch table with Chrissy as Jason flew into the seat next to him. He was hysterically laughing as he tried to talk.

Y/N could barely get any words out, when Eddie came racing into the cafeteria. His white hellfire shirt soaked with a sticky liquid. She could see feathers were stuck to him. She assumed Jason covered Eddie with glue and threw feathers at him.

Y/N never found Jason funny or enjoyed the way he tortured Eddie.

Eddie looked pissed as he marched towards Jason, blinded by his anger he didn't realize his surroundings and tripped over another jock's foot.

She watched in horror as Eddie's face planted into the ground, his nose smacking into the floor. She grew worried when he looked up and the blood was running down his nose.

Jason laughed as he stood up. Clapping as he loudly screamed,

"EDWARD MUNSON, THE FREAK OF FREAKS!"

Y/N wasn't sure what came over her. The guilt for being afraid she liked him. The hurt from seeing Eddie's nose in pain. The anger she felt towards Jason. Maybe one or all of those.

Whatever it was, it led her to march up to Jason and punch him straight on the nose. Jason collapsed on the floor, holding his nose as he looked up at her

"WHAT THE FUCK?" he screamed

Before she could say a word, she was being dragged out.

~~~

Y/N sat in the office with an ice pack on her knuckles. Rolling her eyes as she heard her mother's voice screaming on the other side of the phone call with the principal.

As she iced her knuckles, she felt a body sit next to her. A hand taking over her ice pack, holding it softly to her bruised hand.

She looked up and swallowed. Eddie sat there with a dried up bloody nose. He somehow still looked gorgeous.

"Can't say I ever thought I'd see the day when an Harrington won a fight." Eddie teased

Y/N felt herself laughing at the joke, Eddie's laugh following behind.

"I've always been the better Harrington." She teased back.

Finally finding herself able to talk to him. She looked him over, most of the feathers were off of him. His shirt looked drenched like he scrubbed it in the bathroom sink.

"I'd have to agree. Better looking too." Eddie winked. Enjoying the way she quickly looked away. Maybe Eddie was right, she did have a crush.

A comfortable silence rested in the space between them.

The girl he had a crush on likes him too. And she broke Jason's nose.

Eddie thinks he might have found his match.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson request #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munsonx harrigton!reader

1K notes · View notes

chestertophat · 7 months

Text

Dead Plate Vincent x male Reader

You are planning to ask a question that might make how you feel obvious, but at this point you don’t care. Even with the blowup he had you still want to ask him, but it just made you even more nervous, because you're not even sure if he likes men. And worse, what if he doesn't want you around him, if he hates you after?! All these what ifs are freaking you out but you need to know, you've had these feelings for far too long, they are no longer pleasant, they cause you anxiety because they won't go away, they are always there and you can’t get the chief out of your head. As you sheepishly step outside, you swallow the lump in your throat, trying to gain the courage to just ask if he is single, but alas, your anxiety had other plans. As you sweat bullets and your head goes blank you stand like an idiot in front of the man you love with your whole soul.

As you stand there panicking internally, chief Vincent, the most beautiful man you have ever seen, a charismatic man with a mean sense of humor and a dangerous temper that is unseen by the public eye, is standing there waiting for you to speak, while also trying to get rid of the anger from a few minutes earlier. “H-hay, Vincent..?” “What do you want?” he said without missing a beat, but quickly regretting it when he saw the flicker of fear in your eyes. You glance at the door, the ground, trying to look anywhere but his frustrated eyes in an attempt gone vain to calm yourself down.

You try to mutter out a sentence that will help you in this situation to not make yourself look like a fool in front of him. “A-are you… ok?” he looked surprised you even asked that, you personally think that that poor cook should be asked this, but you had panicked so much you had even forgotten about the confession Rody had talked you into. He had stared for a few seconds, looked away and stated that he was fine, he was just upset at the cook’s incompetence, and that you had no reason to be afraid of him. “Well… i-it not that i'm scared of you, i-it’s just… nevermind, i just wanted to see if you were ok!” you smiled a bit before leaving, seeing Rody waiting for you as you stepped in. “Hey! Hey! How did it go? Did he smile? Did he kiss you? Did he-""I didn't even ask.” you blurt out, feeling oddly intimidated when you see the gears turning in the ginger’s head.

“Really?” you feel like you're shrinking. You nodded slowly. He just hms, and proceeds to walk past you, gently nudging you out of the way. “No. wait- Rody please!” you say, getting more panicked with each word that slips out of your mouth. “Listen Y/N, I can’t handle to see my best friend of 3 days torture himself by letting the love of his life slip through his fingers, you want him and I can see that, just stay here and listen let me handle the rest.” you felt yourself turn into a hurricane on the inside, after he walked out of the door, you listened to the conversation the best you could from the inside, but you could only hear the tones. You felt your heart drop when you heard Rody say “are you single? I'm asking for a friend!” a bit too loudly.

The anxiety got worse when you couldn’t tell the difference with Vincent's tone. You loved how mysterious he can be, but right now it’s causing you nothing but the want for the earth to claim you early. As you heard Rody’s footsteps getting closer to the door you backed away so you didn’t get hit with it. Rody stepped in to see you stiff as a board, and gave you a soft smile that made you feel a little less scared of what could come next. You may have only known him for 3 days, but he made working here a little more enjoyable during work hours. As he walked past you, you noticed that Vincent followed behind him, and then panicked all over again, and your dear friend noticed this and patted you on the shoulder which may or may not have outed you then and there. Rody you dumbass.

Just as you thought would happen, Vincent took notice of this simple yet significant gesture, and walked up to you. You felt the air get caught in your throat and was daming your friend for his caring nature but not really meaning it. He had his arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. “We need to talk somewhere private, meet me in my office after your shift is over.” ok, it could be worse. He didn't seem mad, but he didn’t seem necessarily happy either. Oh shit oh shit shit shitshitshit-

“Hay it’ll be fine! I'd say that coming from him it’s pretty promising!” Rody confidently stated with that optimistic smile. “Shoosh Rody, I think I know what to expect, I've worked here longer anyway…” Rody did his best to console you when you both got a free moment, but you're completely sure that you’re facing a rejection by the end of the shift. You kept a smile on though because customers can’t see how miserable you feel, that would just be unprofessional.

By the end of the shift you did as you were told and went to the office, knocking before you walked in out of respect. You had an anxiety spike as you stood under his gaze, but this time it wasn’t as harsh, it almost seemed more welcoming and felt kinder. “There you are, you were nearly late.” you expected him to respond like that, he's pessimistic. “I know, but it’s better than not showing up at all.” he nodded in agreement, and continued. “So, Rody told me what I assume is what you were initially going to tell me.” you shyly nodded, feeling more vulnerable than you have in awhile.

He walked over to you and had the tiniest bit of blush that if you weren't so close you would have never noticed. Your face is a rosy shade of red, and you feel yourself burning up while trying to keep composure and failing. He’s only just mentioned the elephant in the room and you've already become a flustered mess. “I just wanted to ask you about it, but..” he leaned so close your noses were touching. “I think I already have my answer.” he says in a hushed voice and an almost seductive smile. You trail your hands up his chest and rest them on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. You glanced at his lips, and quickly closed the gap. As the heavenly kiss went on, things were getting a bit messy and felt a bit too fast, so you pulled away to catch your breath.

“Is everything ok?” you nodded with a grin. “Yes, this is perfect..” he wrapped his arms around you, as you laid your head on his shoulder, with a deep sigh, feeling content with where you have found yourself.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the first thing I've posted in who knows how long, I hope you guys like it!

#fanfiction #oneshots #dead plate #dead plate game #dead plate vincent #dead plate rody #dead plate vincent x reader #dead plate x male reader #dead plate vincent x male reader #dead plate x reader

428 notes · View notes

joelalorian · 29 days

Text

Petals of Affection - Part I

A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

I know enough about flowers to fill a thimble. Really, all I know is how to kill them, accidentally or otherwise. Everything to do with the flowers in this story is courtesy of Google, so please suspend disbelief at how some of these could exist in Wyoming, yada yada. I just picked ones that fit the narrative.

Word count: 4,284

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, humor, cursing, gratuitous use of poor floral descriptions, scheming, clueless reader, fluff, eventual smut, alcohol, food, coffee, terms of endearment. POV flops around like a fish outta water. Reader has no physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

Hope you enjoy!

Part II | Part III | Masterlist

An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.

Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.

Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.

Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.

Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.

“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.

“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”

“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.

“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.

Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”

Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”

“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.

“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.

Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”

Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.

“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”

“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.

You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”

You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.

The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.

Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.

The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.

“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”

Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”

“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”

Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”

Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.

“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.

“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”

Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.

Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.

“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.

Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.

“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”

Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.

Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”

Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.

Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”

The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”

Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.

You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.

The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.

Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.

Did you even like this guy?

Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.

In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?

No, you guessed it really didn’t.

These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.

A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.

Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

What did it mean?

Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.

Who in the world left this for you?

Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?

Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.

You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.

Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”

Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.

“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”

Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.

“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”

Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.

Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.

Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.

How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?

Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.

A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.

Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.

You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.

Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?

Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.

God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.

Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.

Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.

Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?

The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?

As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.

The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.

Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.

“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”

You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.

“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”

“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.

Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”

“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.

“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.

“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”

“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”

Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.

Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.

Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?

One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.

You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.

Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”

Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.

“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”

“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”

“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.

“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”

“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”

Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.

Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”

“Right?”

“What do today’s flowers mean?”

“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.

Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”

Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”

Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”

tbc

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #writing challenge #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories

274 notes · View notes

builtbybrokenbells · 13 days

Text

Poolsides & Pizza Boxes | JTK (2 of 2)

A friendly hangout and an innocent drinking game turns into a troublesome affair.

Read part one here

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 20.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), face-sitting, rough sex, risky sex ig, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, dry humping, dom/sub dynamic, sir kink, degradation, praise, impact play, spit play, brief mentions of free use kink, biting, name calling, hair pulling, slight touch of cum play, multiple orgasm, touch of forced orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, angst (in the beginning), mentions of unrequited love, crying, arguing, feelings of rejection/self-doubt/anger/sadness, fluff, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

here you go ☺️ I can’t wait to hear what you guys think of part two. thank you for all the sweet comments on pt. 1 🤍 as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

The whole group was silent, all of you trying your best to come to terms with the major play Jake made. Eventually, when the silence became too much, Jake let out a nervous laugh. “What, don’t tell me I have to skinny dip?” He asked, only slightly nervous at the thought. “What is it? I can’t see the board.”

“Son of a bitch.” You muttered to yourself, keeping the words under your breath. “You can’t see the board?” You asked, unable to believed he’d been playing the game that way. “Like, the whole time?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He laughed, unsure why it was such a big deal to you. “What did I get?” You turned to face him, your expression grave and the look in your eyes lethal as you caught his gaze.

“Singles kiss, Jake.” You said, slowly. At first, he laughed at your intensity, then as the words began to sink in, his smile faded.

“O-oh,” he replied, swallowing hard at the realization.

“You heard her, Jake.” Josh grinned, thrilled at the twisted turn of events. He sat back, leaning into his partner with a smug smirk on his face. “Singles kiss.”

“Is there another option? Like kiss or drink?” You asked, desperate to get yourself out of the awkward situation.

“That’s not what the board says, darling.” Josh said, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaited your response.

“What about Danny and Sierra! They’re single, too!” You cried, sitting up and throwing your arm in the direction of the two sat side by side. Josh’s expression became quizzical, urging you to look in their direction with his eyes. You turned your head towards them, finding them already in a handsy embrace, lips locked together. Your shoulders slumped under the weight of your grief and your eyes fell to the ground.

“They know how to play by the rules.” Roman piped up, smiling sweetly at you.

“So what? It’s a game, what does it matter?” You argued.

“Honour, my dearest friend!” Josh boomed. “If I can’t trust you now, how could I ever trust you again?” He fought back, just as intense. “I think a kiss is in order, trouble.” Roman nodded in agreement, placing a hand on Josh’s shoulder. You let out a sigh of defeat, knowing there was no way out of the situation. Instead, you turned your head to look at Jake, who still seemed stunned at the prospect.

“Why not, right?” You asked, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Uh, y-yeah.” He nodded, clearing his throat slightly. His eyes were glassy, telling you all you needed to know about his level of intoxication. Before you had a chance to further your conversation, a chorus of chants filled the air.

“Oh, god.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The repetition of the word ‘kiss’ was growing louder by the second, and everyone seemed to join in.

“We don’t have to, Jake.” You whispered, trying your hardest to drone out the peer pressure. “I swear, it’s fine.”

“No, s’okay.” He took a deep breath, bargaining with himself. “Part of the game, right? Doesn’t mean anything.” You couldn’t help but feel a stab in your chest when he equated it to nothing. You couldn’t tell him, but you wanted it to at least mean something. That’s all you ever wanted, was to just be something more than you already were, but he never seemed to catch on.

“Yeah, exactly. Doesn’t mean a thing.” You forced a smile out, nodding in agreement. You tried to convince yourself to enjoy it, to kiss him despite knowing it was nothing to him and be happy with it. After all, something was better than nothing, and even if it meant nothing, the action was still better than never doing it at all.

“Right.” Jake nodded, taking a deep breath. “‘Cause we’re friends, you know. Nothing more than that. It’s just a game, and friends kiss all the time, right?” You felt sick as he continued to ration with himself, unable to tell him how badly he was hurting you with his drunken rambling.

“Y-yeah, f’course they do.” You agreed, your words strained and your chest aching. What happened to the pool, when he was so eager to be so close and he was disappointed when you broke the contact? What happened to the wandering hands and the excitement that was impossible to hide? Did he really only feel that way about you because he wanted sex, and now that he had time to think, he knew better than that? “We don’t have to do this, Jacob.” You reiterated your point, ensuring he knew you weren’t forcing him to go along with the idea.

“No, it’s okay.” He said again, his words firm. Finally, a flash of the man that held you in the pool began to resurface, and you felt your fears ease for a moment. “Who knows? It might be nice.” He offered, his eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. The chanting in the background still hadn’t ceased, but it became easier to drone it out when you were focused on his face. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and you weren’t sure if it was helping or doing nothing other than making you more nervous.

“Yeah, it might be nice.” Your lips twitched into a small smile, happy at the thought. His hand on your hip tightened, a small reassurance that he was okay and comfortable with the situation.

“Come here, then.” He said, placing the beer bottle in his cup holder and raising his hand to your cheek. His palm cupped your face, the warmth radiating through you and making your heart beat just a little bit faster. You shifted slightly, giving yourself better access to him. “You look very pretty today, trouble.” He smiled, trying to make the whole thing a little more natural for you.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Jacob.” You returned the sentiment, biting down on the inside of your lip as your cheeks dusted red. You thanked the night sky for making your blushing all the less obvious. He leaned forward slightly, taking in a shaky breath as you copied his action.

It felt like the world was in slow motion, and the two of you were frozen together in time. As his nose brushed yours, similar to how it did earlier that day, your entire body flooded with an unfamiliar feeling. You had never felt so strongly about anyone, and now that you had the opportunity to express yourself even in the slightest of ways, you could barely contain your excitement. He brushed the hair from your face, resting his forehead on yours as he continued to move closer. You were almost there, your lips so close to his that you could practically feel them on your own. Your stomach was twisted in a knot and your eyes fluttered closed as you prepared for the final moment.

You leaned forward to bridge the gap, but a sudden and unexpected move on his part threw you off course completely. Just as your lips were about to connect with his own, he turned his head. His forehead slipped off of yours, and your lips landed on his cheek. Your eyes snapped open, your entire body flooded with embarrassment as you realized he had rejected you in the most blunt and painful way possible, in front of all of your friends.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” he muttered, his eyes squeezed shut from his own embarrassment. “I can’t.” You recoiled as if he shot you, your entire body ablaze with his rejection and your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“You can’t.” You repeated, allowing the words to sink in. You took in a shaky breath, looking over his apologetic stare one last time. “Right.” You nodded, making quick work at sliding off his lap and standing on your feet. Your whole body was numb from the plethora of pain in your heart, and you stumbled as you took a step backwards trying to get away from him.

“Trouble, wait.” Jake said, making a move to stand and follow you. You shook your head, carefully weaving through the chairs and making your way towards the door. As tears spilled on to your cheeks, you slid inside and closed the door behind you, feeling like your head was going to explode. You made it through the kitchen and halfway up the stairs before you heard yelling from outside through the open windows, and you made it to your bedroom door before the sliding door in your kitchen opened once again.

You closed your bedroom door and locked it before you let the tears really begin to roll. The moment of seclusion allowed for you to feel the rejection a million times more. You couldn’t believe you were naïve enough to think he would ever feel the same way about you, and stupid enough to believe that you even had a chance. Now, you knew better, and so did everyone else in your life. You were disappointed that he did not feel the same, but you were more upset that he showed you in such a blunt manner in front of so many people. You wished he could have just said no, rather than lead you to believe he would and then change his mind at the drop of a dime, moments later.

A knock on your door shook you from the thought momentarily, but not enough to stop the flow of tears. “Come on, trouble. Talk to me, please.” The voice did nothing but strike another wave of sadness within you.

“Go away, Jake.” You argued, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I can hear you crying, beautiful.” He bargained with you. “Let me explain.”

“No need, Jacob. I heard you, loud and clear.” You dismissed him, knowing that there was no explanation that could atone for the hurt he caused. You couldn’t let him see you in such a state, especially when he knew it was over him.

“Okay.” He sighed. “Everyone is pretty drunk, so they’re going to head to bed. Come and find me when you want to talk.” He waited, hoping you would open the door, but he was met with nothing. He stood for a few moments longer, wondering if you would at least say something, even if he didn’t deserve it. When you solidified your stance on the matter, you could hear him begin to retreat downstairs.

You let out a long breath, doing all you could to calm yourself down. You discarded the still damp bikini from your body, walking through the door to your ensuite bathroom. You flipped the faucet on in the bathtub and pulled the stop for the shower head. You let the water heat up before you climbed inside, beginning a slow process of cleaning the chlorine and misery from yourself. You washed your hair before dousing it in conditioner, slowly combing through the knots with your fingers. When it was fully coated, you used a clip to hold it to your head while you washed your body. By the time you rinsed the suds from your skin, the sobs had slowed to an occasional tear, leaving nothing but puffy eyes and a red nose. You rinsed your hair and stepped out, wrapping yourself in the biggest towel you could find.

You washed any remaining makeup from your skin and put on some lotion to sooth the irritation from crying. You towel dried your hair and stepped back into your bedroom to change. At your closet, you brushed past all of the shirts belonging to Jake, finding the clothes too painful to look at. Eventually, you settled on a large t-shirt that you had stolen from your older brother nearly a decade ago. You slipped it on, finding it fall to your mid-thigh. You grabbed a pair of underwear from one of the drawers in your dresser and stepped into them.

By the time you were dressed, most of the sadness had passed, settling into a dull ache as you approached the window of your bedroom. You gazed out into the yard, noticing the patio was empty, and clean. All of the beer bottles had been thrown out, along with the dreaded pizza box. The pool floaties had been pulled out of the water and sat to dry on the cement. A sad smile crossed your lips, knowing it was likely Jake who had done so in an attempt to apologize. You let out a sigh, crawling into bed and under the covers after plugging your phone in to charge. You let your head rest on the pillows, figuring that sleeping away the misery was the best way to go about it. In the morning, you would have a clear head and a better chance at resolving things peacefully.

You were angry and hurt, embarrassed and resentful over the entire situation, but Jake was your best friend. No matter what, you never wanted that to change. In the years of friendship with him, the two of you had never fought over anything substantial, and never over anything like this. It was killing you to be mad at him at all, but you couldn’t help it. You stared up at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick away the minutes as you remained wide awake. For some reason, sleep did not seem to want to come, and it was growing more irritating by the second.

Eventually, you let out a huff of discontent as the material of your comforter became scratchy against your bare legs. You turned over to face your nightstand, reaching for the glass of water that always seemed to be there. When you were met with nothing but your alarm and a half-empty bottle of perfume, you collapsed against the mattress and let out a groan of anger.

You figured that everyone would be asleep by now; the long day of swimming and drinking in the sun would be taking its toll. One couple would take post in your office, sharing the unusually comfortable futon. Someone else would be in the guest room, and one couple on an air mattress in the downstairs living room. Usually, when life was normal and you and Jake weren’t fighting, he would be upstairs with you, already fast asleep without a worry in the world. Knowing him so well, you figured he either drank himself to sleep on the couch or angrily stumbled home, waiting to text you as soon as the sun rose in the sky.

You and Jake worked so well as friends because you knew how each other worked. You knew what he was thinking without him saying it, and he knew how you were feeling just by the look on your face. The two of you knew when to take a step back to avoid a fight, because space was important to both of you and communicating only worked when you weren’t angry. It was a huge comfort knowing someone so well, because it allowed for the two of you to lean on each other when times were tough.

This time, you had no idea where to start.

In the pool, he was keen on the idea of touching you and holding you, and definitely okay with the position you were in. He was sad when you pulled away, disappointed that things got cut short. When he had the opportunity to kiss you, he completely disregarded it and embarrassed you in front of everyone. He chalked it up to two friends locking lips as a joke as if he wasn’t feeling you up an hour before when everyone was gone. You didn’t know what he was thinking, certainly not what he was feeling, and it was killing you.

Then, the worst thought of all struck you.

Did he only want to be with you when nobody else was looking? Was he embarrassed about being attracted to you, or did he really not feel that way about you at all and dreaded the idea of anyone thinking he did?

‘Stop it, Y/N.’ You forced the thoughts out of your head, knowing overthinking wouldn’t do anything but worsen the problem. You would talk to him in the morning when you both cooled down, and you would settle the score. You would go back to being friends, because it’s what you were good at. You weren’t good with romance, and the only time your relationship was complicated was when you started to think of him as something more.

Water.

Water would fix it. You would sneak downstairs past sleeping drunkards and grab a nice glass of water from the fridge. It would clear your head and curb the oncoming hangover, and it would put you to sleep, which you desperately needed.

You climbed from the bed, knowing there was no sense in searching for a pair of pyjama pants when everyone was asleep, anyway. Quietly, you snuck out of your room and down the stairs, hearing snores from your office and the guest bedroom. You walked past the living room, sneaking a peek and Josh and Roman fast asleep on the air mattress on the floor. A small smile crossed your lips, even if you were annoyed with the two for being a catalyst in your current fight with Jake. You turned the corner to the kitchen, carefully maneuvering around the chairs pulled from the table. Before you could reach the refrigerator door, you froze in your tracks.

“What are you doing, Jake?” You sighed, looking to him sitting at the head of the table, leaned back in the chair with his ankles crossed. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of sweatpants and his hair was slightly damp. As angry and as hurt as you were, you could not refute how attracted you were to him.

“Waiting for you.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes at your quizzical look, giving a sigh of his own before he continued. “I lived with you for almost a year, Y/N. I know you need a glass of water by your bed, or you can’t sleep. I knew you would come down to get it, so I waited for you… and here you are.” He motioned to you, standing only in a t-shirt with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“Go home, Jake.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and opening the fridge. You filled it from the pitcher, placing it back in its spot and kicking the door shut.

“I’m not going home until we talk about it.” He said, his lips turned down into a frown.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I heard you, loud and clear.” You reiterated your point from earlier, trying to hide the distaste in your tone. You turned to walk back into the hallway, almost escaping before he started again.

“There is.” He argued, trying to keep his voice quiet as he begged you to stay. He didn’t want anyone to wake up, to interrupt the moment he’d been waiting all night for. You paused in your tracks, picking up on the urgency in his tone and realizing that maybe you should stay, just to listen at least. Then, as you stood in place, the anger began to return to you.

“What? So we can talk about how bad you don’t want to kiss me? The thought was so terrible that you couldn’t even muster up the strength to do it once? For a game?”

“Y/N, that’s not—“

“No, it is, Jake. I asked you if you wanted to stop, twice! I said we didn’t have to do it, but you said you would, and you made me look like the fucking idiot for thinking that you might actually want to.” You said, pointing a finger at him as tears began to brim your eyes again. “And even if you did, it would mean nothing, right? ‘Cause it was just for the game, and friends kiss all the time. No big deal.” You scoffed, ready to turn on your heel again and leave.

“Christ, Y/N, what is your problem?” He asked, the intensity of the moment growing by the second. He stood from the table, desperate to get to the bottom of your anger. “I get it, that was a terrible thing to say, but I was nervous, and I was put on the spot. I’m sorry I panicked!”

“There’s no ‘but’, Jacob! I mean, what the fuck?” You exclaimed, raising your hand in frustration and letting it fall back to your side. “In the pool, when everyone was gone, you had no problem with it. Clearly, you enjoyed it! So, what is it? You’re only interested in me when nobody’s around to judge you for it?” He physically recoiled at the sound of your words, a look of horror crossing his face as he realized that’s what you thought. He took three long strides towards you, grabbing your arms in his hand as he prepared to confess the truth about the matter.

“You know better than that, trouble.” He said, his words firm but his tone returning to normal. “It’s not like that; you have to believe me.”

“Then what is it, Jake? Because that’s what it feels like, and it’s killing me, and—“

“If you let me talk for a second, I will tell you!” He cut you off, tightening his grip on your arms as he shook you out of the moment of rambling. It was gentle, playful, and exactly what you needed to snap out of it. A laugh fell from your lips, quiet but definitely noticeable. He smiled back, happy to know that despite the confusion and pain, you and him were still the same people.

“Sorry.” You said, sheepishly looking towards the floor. “I get too intense sometimes.”

“Yeah, you think?” He laughed, lifting your chin with his finger so he could take a good look over your face. “It’s okay, trouble. I know you, and it’s okay.” He assured you. “Can I talk now, please? I’ve been sitting here for two hours, looking like an idiot.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, giving a sad smile. You felt bad for accusing him of such things, but your own head was your worst enemy. That in addition to the fact you had never really fought with Jake before made for a deadly combination.

“I wanted to, Y/N, just not like that.” He said, making sure you were actually listening to what he was saying.

“Not like that?” You cocked your head to the side, curious about what he truly meant.

“No, not like that.” He sighed. “Not as a part of a game, when everyone was watching. I didn’t want that for us, trouble.”

“What do you want for us, Jake?” You asked, your voice quiet and your heart aching.

“I…” he trailed off, his expression dropping slightly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You asked, hurt but trying to remain calm.

“I don’t! What do you want, trouble?” You thought about his words, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as he put you on the spot.

“I don’t know, either.”

“So stop making me sound like the bad guy! This is weird and confusing, and we’ve never been in this situation before.” He pleaded. You nodded again, sad that you couldn’t seem to stop saying the wrong thing.

“The pool, Jake. What was that?”

“The heat of the moment, I guess?” He said, giving a slight shrug. “You looked so pretty, and you held on to me like that, and it felt good. It felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

“But not now?” You asked, trying to get to the bottom of it. You were so confused, still sad and angry, but relieved that the two of you were at least trying to work it out.

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Y/N. I didn’t say that.” He snapped, his fuse running short.

“You know what, Jake? It’s fine. This is all fine, water under the bridge, forgotten about. We make great friends, we’ve always been good at it, so let’s not fuck it up, now.” You forced the words out, wanting to say anything but that, but it seemed like the only way to make things better. He didn’t know how he was feeling, and if he didn’t know, you certainly couldn’t confess how you felt. “You don’t have to kiss me, and you don’t have to feel bad about not wanting to. It’s okay, and we can wake up tomorrow like it never happened.” You breathed, taking a step away from him.

“That’s it? That’s what you want to do?”

“No, but it seems like you do!” You shot back. “Goodnight, Jake. I’ll see you in the morning.” You turned towards the stairs, trying to hold back your tears until you were alone again, but before you could make it to the hallway, he reached out and grabbed your hand.

When he spun you around, you expected the argument to continue. You expected tears to fall and him to agree with your sentiments in the end, making the fight worth little at all. Instead, once you were facing him, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Before you could process what he was doing, one hand came up to hold the back of your head as he brought his lips to yours. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. His lips were soft, slick with saliva as they moved against your own, and he tasted sweet. His hands on you made your head spin, the strength in which he was holding you could only be equated to his own desperation, and your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest.

As the kiss continued, you feared you would drop the glass of water straight on the floor, but you didn’t care enough to stop him. You were on top of the world, the moment even better than any of the fallacies and daydreams you’d created in your mind. Finally, after so long of pining for him, you had him, and you never wanted to let him go.

Eventually, he pulled away, but did not move very far. His forehead rested on your own, and his shoulders shook with the heavy breaths he was taking. Both of you were at a loss for words, but you felt the need to say something.

“Did you shower? You smell like me.” You asked, nervous and unsure if your question would ruin the whole thing. Thankfully, he let out a laugh, nodding gently against you.

“Yeah, I did. I miss when you lived at my house and I stole your shampoo when mine ran out. It’s always so much better.”

“Right.” You swallowed hard, smiling at him as you tried to feel out the emotion in the room. You didn’t know what he was thinking, and it was bothering you more than you cared to admit. Rarely was there a time when you couldn’t read him, but the entire day had been strange and unusual.

“I wanted to kiss you, trouble. I have for a long time, but I wanted to do it right. I’m sorry I hurt you. I really didn’t want to, but it would have hurt more if you thought it didn’t mean anything to me.” He explained. “And in the pool, I wanted to do that, too. I’ve been thinking about it since I came up with the idea of getting a pool. I know you choose not to see it, and that’s okay, but I’m crazy about you, Y/N, and I have been for a really long time. If they hadn’t come back, I would’ve had my way with you right there in the pool if you would have let me.”

“Jake…” you breathed, unable to process everything all at once. You wanted to jump for joy, to tell him you felt the same way and you were ecstatic to hear him say it, but you were frozen in place. You waited so long to hear it that you had a hard time believing it was real.

“It means something to me, trouble. It means so much to me and I was scared that it wouldn’t mean anything to you. Friends don’t kiss all of the time, and I’m kissing you because as much as I love being your friend, I want more than that. Waking up next to you every day was the best feeling in the whole world, even if it wasn’t the way I wanted to. I want you, Y/N, and I’m not embarrassed about it, or anything like that. I’m scared, and I didn’t want you to see it.”

“It means something to me too, Jake. It means everything to me, and I was so scared you didn’t feel the same way. I want that, too. I want it so bad that it makes my chest hurt and my head spin, and I deny it so much when Josh says it because I was terrified of losing you.” You explained, setting your glass down on the table. “I was heartbroken when I thought you didn’t want to kiss me, because that’s all I want you to do.”

“Then let me do it.” He said, serious but playful. A smile was on his lips, showing how happy he was that everything was out in the air. “Stop trying to run away, or say goodnight, because I don’t want to go to sleep, and I want to kiss you, trouble. Let me make up for it, please.”

“Okay.” You giggled, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Kiss me, then.” With that, he leaned forward, both of his hands dropping to your hips as he brought his lips to yours once again.

This time, it was more comfortable and less urgent. His fingers tightened on you, the fabric of your shirt bunching up in his hands as he pulled you closer. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, the feeling strange but something you were excited to get used to. Everything about the kiss was perfect, exactly what you hoped it would be, but somehow even better than that. It had little to do with the action itself, and everything to do with how right it felt to be in his arms in such a way. After so many years, the both of you knew that it would eventually lead to this, but self-doubt and fear got in the way. It seemed as though everyone else knew long before you did.

When his tongue pushed past your lips, the moment seemed more real than it did before. The taste of him on your tongue sent you spiralling, your body quickly remembering how good it felt to be so close to him. The sexual tension from the pool had left both of you confused and curious, wondering how the situation evolved so quickly. Now that you understood how good it felt to kiss him, you knew the situation did not evolve quickly at all. In fact, it took you years to get there, and one awkward fight over a drinking game.

This was where you were meant to be all along, but both of you were too stubborn to admit it. All of the failed talking stages and flings that amounted to nothing more finally made sense; you were looking for the perfect person in all the wrong places, because he was standing in front of you the whole time, buying kiddie pools and getting ice cream on summer days. He was there, buying plane tickets to see you when your friends hurt your feelings and getting front row seats to every graduation. He was there, calling you every night to see if you were okay, doing everything in his power to keep you happy, and helping you move into his house when you needed him.

Jake was the person you were looking for all along, and you were the same to him; you never needed any romantic fulfillment, because a romantic relationship with someone else paled in comparison to spending every day with Jake, even if it was platonic. He understood you, he cared about you, and he loved you unconditionally, no matter the situation. Talking stages always failed with someone else because you had always been in love with and waiting for him.

The intensity of the kiss did not take long to grow, leaving both of you feeling a little more desperate and a lot more confident. His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing the seam on your underwear on your hip. You couldn’t help but feel like he was wearing too many clothes, and you were thrown right back into the endless pit of emotion you were stuck in as you were wrapped around him in the pool.

His hands flattened against the back of your thighs as he crouched down slightly. He pulled back only for a second as he lifted you off your feet. A gasp left your lips at the sudden movement, and as an instinctual reaction, you locked your legs around his waist. His hands settled on your ass, his grip firm to reassure you that he would never let you fall. The new position was comfortable and exciting, your hips now meeting his in a long overdue reuinion.

“Remember what I said about starting things you couldn’t finish?” He asked, his voice thick with emotion as he looked over your face. His lips were swollen, pink from the constant attention you were giving him, and they were permanently upturned into an irritatatingly beautiful smile.

“Something like that, yeah.” You said, purposefully acting forgetful to get on his nerves. “I think it was you that started it, though.”

“No sweetheart, that was you, walking around in that slutty little bikini all day.” He corrected, taking a step towards the kitchen table. “Sitting on my lap and expecting me not to fuck you?” Your face flushed at his words and you felt the familiar ache between your legs. “Now I have to finish this, and that means we do it my way.” He said, his voice quiet but his tone gruff. He sat you down in the edge of the kitchen table, looking over your face to see any sign of discomfort. “That sound good to you, beautiful?”

“Yes, s-si—“ you cut yourself off, your face burning red as you realized how you were about to address him. He noticed your sudden change of heart, furrowing his brows as he gave you quizzical stare. How were you supposed to address him? Sir seemed like too much for the first time, and you didn’t want to cross any boundaries with him.

‘Daddy?’ You thought to yourself, wondering if maybe he would prefer that. You looked over his face for a moment, feeling stupid for even thinking that. ‘Absolutely not.’ You felt ridiculous for even questioning something like that, and all you wanted to do was shy away from him. It had been so long since you had done anything sexual that all of your game seemed to disappear. That, and the fact that he made you unbelievably nervous. ‘Stop overthinking this. It’s Jake, you know him, and he knows you. It’s fine.’

“What’s wrong, trouble?” He asked, concerned about your sudden withdrawal. You snapped out of your thoughts, your stomach churning with unease and unfortunately, the most intense sexual desire you’d ever felt in your entire life. The entire situation was new, and it was scary. You had known Jake for so long, but never like this, and you were terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this.” You confessed, the words rushing out in a mess of awkward laughter.

“You… you don’t know how to do this?” He raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face.

“No, not like that!” You laughed, defending yourself. “I know how to have sex, but I don’t know how to have sex with you.” You clarified. Now, he was laughing with you, and although the awkward moment had passed, you were still embarrassed about slowing the momentum between you.

“I would like to think that it would be the same as having sex with anyone else… except, you know, better, maybe?” You felt like you were going to shrivel up and die at the sound of his words. You had to talk to him, to communicate the things you were feeling, but you couldn’t. It had never been so hard to talk to him before about anything, and you knew it was due to the plethora of feelings coursing through you all at once. You never actually believed the two of you would end up in a situation like this one, and you were terrified of everything.

“I would imagine that it would be the same, Jake.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in attempt to hide yourself from him. “As for better, I don’t know yet, so I can’t really comment any further.” At that, another laugh fell from his lips, making you realize he was more than okay with the pause. He wasn’t judging you, and he didn’t think you were stupid; in fact, the whole thing was probably just as strange for him as it was for you. “I just… this is weird, right? We’ve been friends for so long, and I don’t know how we’re supposed to have sex.”

“Okay, then. Let’s talk it out.” He said, giving you a genuine smile to let you know he was more than okay with it. “Usually, I start with taking some clothes off, but if that’s not your thing, we can work around it. Then—“ you cut him off with a smack on the arm, laughing but slightly annoyed with his inability to take you seriously.

“Jake, I mean it.” You laughed, smiling up at him in disbelief.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m just trying to make you feel better.” He chuckled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “I know you, and I know you can’t do anything without talking about it first, so let’s talk. It’s me, trouble, you don’t have to be scared of anything.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but isn’t this just a little weird for you? It’s hot, like really hot, and I really want to do it, but like… what do I call you? Is there things that you don’t like that I shouldn’t do? Or are you into really weird stuff that I’ll have to learn to like?” You asked, your face burning as you squeezed in one last joke. Another laugh shook his shoulders, and you relaxed again. You were overthinking something that was so simple; the dynamic between you two was always so easygoing, and this should be too.

“No weird stuff, I promise.” He laughed, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Well, unless you consider relatively normal things weird, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” You felt yourself start to panic again, but the sound of his laugh soothed your mind.

“Baby, stop freaking yourself out.” He hummed, tilting your head upwards towards him. You felt your heart skip a beat at such a domestic sounding pet name. It felt so good to be called such a thing by him, and even better that it felt like you were his. “It’s just me.” He reiterated the same point.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, Jake.” You sighed, reaching up and placing a hand over his. He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything.” He promised. “Let’s talk about it, I know it’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah, it will.” You agreed, letting out a small sigh.

“Ask away.” He said, running his thumb over your cheek. The sensation felt so good, so normal for the two of you. You were being crazy, and you knew it.

“What do you prefer to be… called?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’ll answer to whatever you call me… Jake, baby, or any variation of that really… Uhm, lover, but only if you’re really into it.” At that, the both of you shared a childish giggle. His lighthearted response eased all of the work in your mind. “And… sir, too.” He cleared his throat slightly after he said it, averting his gaze as if he was nervous to say it.

“Really? I think I prefer lover.” You grinned, joining in on the joke. He rolled his eyes, playful and relaxed as he did so. “Sir is good.” You said, finally deciding to take him seriously. “I haven’t done this in a really long time, Jake, and I’m scared it’s not going to be… good for you, you know?”

“You could slap me in the face and leave me here all night, and I’m sure I’d still enjoy it, because you’re the one who did it.” He replied, clearly more comfortable when the two of you were joking. “You don’t need to worry about that, angel. I want you, and we’ll figure the rest out, okay?”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He crooned, leaning down and placing a small kiss to your lips. “I’m not going to be too rough with you, but if you need to stop, just tell me. I want you to feel good. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Okay.” You breathed. “You can be a little rough, you know, if you feel like it.” As the words reached his ears, his eyebrows raised and his mouth parted slightly in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say such a thing.

“Okay,” he said, a gleam of excitement in his eye. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll tell you how this is going to work.” He continued, his voice still gentle, but a little more domineering. “I’m in charge, beautiful. Don’t get that twisted.” He leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to your jaw. A shiver of excitement ran down your spine as you felt his lips touch you again.

Slowly, he brought his attention down your neck, exploring the soft skin so he could know you a little better. As his lips landed atop the sensitive spot just below your ear, a breathy moan left your lips, barely noticeable even in the static silence. He let out a hum of satisfaction, happy to have found a sweet spot already. His tongue ran over the area, gentle as he tested his limits. When your hand raised to his bicep, grasping it and pulling him closer, he suctioned his lips to your neck and sucked a mark into the skin.

“If you’ll let me, I’m going to finish what you started, but you have to be good for me, okay?” He said, his lips still ghosting over the love bite he left on your neck.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, much more comfortable with the word now that you talked to him about it.

“That’s it, baby.” You could feel him smile against you. The praise washed over you, settling deep in the pit of your stomach and prompting a rush of emotion straight to your core. A new found confidence washed over you, and you brought your free hand between your bodies and reached down. You wanted to feel him, to know he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. Your hand settled over the bulge in his sweatpants, his cock hard and aching for relief just the same as it was in the pool. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the feeling of you touching him, clearly enjoying anything you were willing to give him.

Without thinking too much about it, you began to palm him through his boxers, the pressure just enough for him to feel it through the fabric, and enough to show your enthusiasm now that the awkwardness had melted away.

“Do you get it now? Do you feel how fucking bad I want you?” He hissed, his mouth still hovering over your neck. His warm breath on your skin was exhilarating, and the words he was saying was music to your ears. “Do you know what I would have done to you if they waited to come back, just a little while longer?” You wanted to squeeze your thighs together, just for a touch of relief from the incessant throbbing between your legs, but you didn’t fully thing it through before you did so. As your legs came together, all it did was pull him closer to you, making the sensation so much worse.

“What did you want to do to me, baby?” You asked, playing innocent in hopes that he would continue talking to you. The sound of his voice was overwhelming in the best possible way, the only constant, familiar comfort amidst all of the new sensations.

“I would have bent you over the side of that fucking pool and showed you how much you mean to me.” He said, his gruff tone doing nothing to satiate your need for him. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Waking up to you every morning, sleeping beside me and having to force myself out of that bed.” He muttered the last part more to himself, still angry that he never found the courage to make a move sooner. “And you thought you were smart, but I knew what you were doing, sweetheart. Every morning, you moved just a little bit closer, and I woke up to that perfect little ass pressed up against me. Did you want me to fuck you, or did you just want to see how far you could take it before you got yourself in trouble?”

With that, he used his hand on your hip to pull you closer to the edge of the table. You retracted your hand from between you, and as he guided you forward, your legs wrapped around him, pulling him further into you. Through clothing, his cock brushed against your core, finally giving you a breath of relief from the growing discomfort.

Then, in a moment of clarity, it all made perfect sense.

Trouble.

He’d been calling you that for so long, you never thought twice about it. The silly nickname carried you through years of your life, calming and comforting as he spoke it through laughs and sometimes tears. Never once did you think that it meant anything more, but now that he spoke the word in a new context, you understood that it meant everything. You had been torturing him for years, just the same as he was doing to you.

“You don’t call me that for no reason, sir.” You breathed, wondering if maybe you thought too much into it, but when he forcefully pulled you forward onto him again and you could feel him smiling against your skin, you knew you hit the nail on the head.

“Took you long enough.” He muttered, his head raising from the crook of your neck to look over your face. “Pretty girl like you causes nothing but trouble.” Your cheeks reddened under his stare once again, but the smile on your face made you forget about it completely.

“You proud of yourself for that one?” You asked, teasing him slightly.

“Got away with it, didn’t I?” Your cheeks hurt from the smile that had stayed constant on them. You were happy, more than you had ever been in your entire life, and you never wanted to let go of the feeling.

“Come here.” You mumbled, hooking your arm around his neck and pulling his face down to meet yours. He wrapped his arms around you, his entire upper body pressed against yours as he kissed you back. His hands found the bottom of your shirt, bunching the fabric in his hands as he began to pull it away from your body. You parted from him just for long enough for him to slide it over your head, and then he was kissing you again.

With the friction he was providing between your legs and your bare chest pressed against his, you couldn’t help but let a moan escape into his mouth. He drank in the sound as if it were necessary for his survival, thriving off it and using it as motivation to continue. Eventually, he moved further down, trailing kisses from your hat to the base of your neck, and then over your collarbone.

“I did want you to fuck me, Jake.” You confessed, finally answering the question he’d asked moments before. “I wanted it so bad. I dreamt about it every night.” You panted, breathless from the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your skin and your racing heart.

“You should have asked, trouble.” He crooned, slightly disappointed that you never said a word about it. “You know I would have taken care of you. I always do.”

“You do,” you agreed, feeling his head drift even lower. “But that’s not what I was dreaming about, Jake.” You continued, watching him freeze just as he was about to let his tongue trail over your hardened nipple. His eyes flickered upwards, looking over your face as he processed what you were saying. “I know you always take care of me, baby. I wanted to take care of you, to thank you for everything you do for me.” You watched as his pupils engulfed his irises, enticed by your words and crazed with desire for you. You were no different, so far gone that you did not care that you were going to let him fuck you in the kitchen while your friends slept soundly in the other room. You wanted him so bad, and you weren’t sure you could last another minute without him. “Let me do it now, please?” You whispered, sticking your bottom lip out into a slight pout.

“Always so concerned about everyone else, trouble.” He whispered, straightening himself up. He wasn’t stupid enough to deny you of that, so he figured he’d let you have your way first, then he could use the rest of the night to showcase his own desire to please. “You know I’ve always told you to take what’s yours.” He slurred, drunk off lust and already imagining how good your mouth would feel on him. You couldn’t quite grasp the emotion that took over at the sound of his words. Take what’s yours, as if he belonged to you, and you were his.

You slid off of the table, making sure your landing was quiet and secure. You held on to the edge of the table until you were sure you were steady on your feet, and then you took a step towards him. You tried to swallow your nerves, framing yourself as confident as your hands reached out for him. This was something you had unashamedly thought about hundreds of times, but now that the opportunity arose, you were far more anxious than you once thought you would be.

“Hi, beautiful.” He smiled down at you, his eyes soft and his smile warm. In an instant, your fear disappeared, replaced with a blossoming love for him deep in your chest.

“Hi, baby.” You breathed, the word still foreign on your tongue, but feeling better every time you spoke it.

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Your fingers drifted over his bare arms, starting there as you worked up the courage to continue. You kept the touch featherlight as it drifted across his stomach and down to the waistband of his sweatpants. You tried not to notice the shiver that ran through him as your fingers dipped below the elastic, doing nothing but teasing him as he awaited your next move. Carefully, you began to crouch down, keeping your movement slow as you pressed kisses to his chest when your mouth passed by.

By the time you were on your knees in front of him, you had little care about embarrassing yourself anymore. The state he was in was your driving force, and you found yourself unable to think of anything other than pleasing him. With one final breath of courage, you pushed past the last boundary that remained between the two of you. You pulled his pants down off of his hips, ensuring that his boxers came down with them. With a hard swallow, you took a moment to digest the situation and its entirety. You were on your knees, eye level with his cock as he watched you, studying every move you were making.

Your gaze flickered up to meet his, innocent and doe-eyed as you gave him a smile. Before your mouth was even on him, his eyes were rolling back in his head. The thought alone was enough to drive him mad, and anything that came after was just one push closer to the edge of insanity. You leaned forward, parting your lips slightly, and you let your tongue rest against your bottom lip. Your mouth landed on the tip of his cock, your tongue gliding over it as the taste of pre-cum filled your senses.

You let out a hum of pleasure, the saltiness causing your mouth to water as your eyes fluttered closed. You moved your head down a little further, taking him into your mouth without ever moving your tongue away from its original position. It felt good. It felt right. You let the saliva build up on your tongue as you flattened it against the underside of his dick, ensuring that it was well lubricated before moving any further.

He was big, definitely much more than you were used to, but you tried not to let it intimidate you as you began to bob your head down on him. At first, you kept it slow, carefully calculating every move you made. Then, a strangled cry left his mouth as his tip hit the back of your throat, and all inhibitions seemed to flee your body. In response, you moaned against him as you moved your head back, the vibration furthering the pleasure he was already getting from your mouth.

“Fuck, angel.” He panted, reaching down and brushing the hair from your face. As a courtesy, he gathered it behind your head and knotted it around his fist, making it a little more comfortable for you. You opened your eyes, needing to catch a glimpse of his face to keep you going. Sometimes, it seemed like it was the only thing that could.

He was looking down at you, his hair falling in front of his face to frame his perfect features. His eyebrows were furrowed together, the wrinkles on his forehead that usually showed his concentration began to pop. His jaw was clenched, the muscles taut as he tried to hold back every sound he was desperate to make. He looked more beautiful than he ever had, and it only made you want to work harder.

The man before you was many things; your best friend, of course, but it always ran a little bit deeper than that. He was one who held great kindness in his heart and love in his eyes no matter where he was or who he was with. He was sweet, soft spoken at times but louder than anyone the next. He was funny, always having a quip lined up or a punchline to spew. More than that, he was yours. Even before your tearful confessions that ensued not even an hour before, he was just that. He would leave anything behind at the drop of a dime if you needed something, and his usual kindness grew tenfold if you were the one in question. He loved to love, but most of all, he loved to love you, in every way he knew how.

Halfway across the world, playing on stages in front of thousands, you were always at the front of his mind. He ran off stage every night to text you, just to tell you how it went and say he wished you were there to share the moment. He opened his home to you without a promise of anything at all, and most importantly, he built you a fucking pool.

Three hours ago, you were near shameful of how strongly you felt for him, but you had no reason to be. He was your best friend, but everyone else knew just as well as you that he was always more than that. There was no shame in falling in love with Jake, because it would be impossible not to. Now that he was truly yours, in every way, you would bend over backwards to make him happy. What you were doing in that moment only felt like a glimpse in time of a lifetime you would spend thanking him for everything he’d already done and would continue to do for you.

As your head sunk down on him again, his hand tightened in your hair. His grip was growing stronger with every bob of your head, and you knew he was doing all he could to hold himself back. As nice as the gesture was, you would have been perfectly fine had he decided to take control.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he hissed through his teeth, his stare intense as he spoke the words. Your cheeks dusted red in the dim light filtering through the window, framing the two of you in the obscene display for the rest of time. You pushed your head down on him again, this time taking him as far as you could. You felt his tip slide down your throat, and you took a long breath of air through your nose to stave off the urge to gag. You held him there for a moment, trying your best to keep yourself calm as you forced yourself to swallow back the salvia pooling in your mouth. Your throat constricted around him as you did so, and in response, he let out the most heavenly sound that had ever graced your ears.

You had never seen Jake in such a state, and although you felt like you should appreciate it, you couldn’t help but feel sad that it had taken you so long to get here. He was desperate, trying and failing to keep his composure, and he was needy. His hips jutted forward every time you bobbed your head down on him, even if he tried to hold himself back. He was lost in the pleasure, and he had never looked so fucking ethereal. Pathetic whines fell from his lips as he tried his hardest to keep quiet, and to be used by him was the most pleasant feeling you’d ever experienced.

You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, desperate for a release as you continued your torment. You were just as worked up, your underwear soaked through with the wetness pooling between your legs, and your were aching for him to touch you. If you weren’t so greedy, you would have let him finish there, just to show him how committed you were to his pleasure.

Just when you thought you were getting him close to the point of no return, his grip tightened in your hair and his body went rigid. Unsure of what was wrong, you tried to continue on as you were seconds before, but his hand holding your head in place made it hard to do so. Before your disappointment really began to sink in, he spoke quietly. So quietly that you almost did not hear him at all.

“Baby, stop.” He pleaded, looking down with wide eyes. Your eyes flickered up to his, questioning his sudden withdrawal as his cock rested on your tongue. “Someone’s coming.” He said, looking over his shoulder at the entrance of the kitchen. At that, a wave of panic filled your chest, hyper aware of the situation you had found yourselves in. He looked at your shirt on the floor, knowing that there wasn’t enough time for you to dress yourself before the two of you were caught. “Get under the table.” You pulled back, taking a long breath as his tip fell from your lips.

Although you felt a little ridiculous hiding in your own home, you figured it would be for the best. Avoiding the awkward situation would be in everyone’s best interest, especially considering the explicit nature of your current state. As you shuffled backwards, hiding yourself under the table, Jake stepped towards your shirt on the ground and kicked it towards you. Then, he rushed to push the chair in, concealing you a little better. He pulled his pants back up over his hips just as the footsteps neared the end of the hallway. Realizing the obvious predicament in his pants, he thought it best to sit back down in the chair at the head of the table, knowing there was no way he could hide it from anyone who walked in, even if the light was turned off.

He pushed the chair in as far as he could, his stomach resting against the edge of the table as he leaned back ever so slightly, ensuring that his lower half was carefully concealed underneath the table. You held your breath, listening carefully as the footsteps rounded the corner and slowed to a stop.

“Oh, hey, Jake.” Roman. The sleep laced in the familiar tone was blatant, and the surprise of seeing Jake sitting, wide awake in the earliest hours of the morning was also quite clear. “What are you still doing up?”

“Oh, you know.” He let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. “Just waiting for Y/N to come down so I can talk to her.”

“Right,” he mumbled, taking a few steps towards the refrigerator. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.” Roman asked, opening the fridge to retrieve the water pitcher from inside. The yellow light illuminated the room ever so slightly, making it just a little more obvious that you were stuck under the table, nearly naked and trying your best to stay calm.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Guess I drank a little too much, and I’m trying to figure out how to make up for being an idiot, earlier.” Jake said, clearing his throat slightly as he attempted to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, that was a shitshow for sure.” Roman chuckled, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. He filled it up with water from the pitcher, thinking carefully about what to say next. “Why don’t you go up there and talk to her? Might be better if you do it sooner rather than later.”

“Already tried that.” Jake chuckled. “She’s as stubborn as I am.” You rolled your eyes at the snide comment, but continued to listen to the conversation between the two. It wasn’t really eavesdropping, considering Jake knew it would be impossible for you not to listen.

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He hummed an agreement, still fighting sleep as he found himself amidst conversation. “You have to tell her, man. It’s just hurting you more the longer you keep it to yourself.”

“Y-yeah, I know.” Jake said, clearly nervous about what Roman would let slip under the impression the two were alone. “Just not as easy as it seems, I guess.”

“Christ, Jake, it’s not like nobody knows. We can see it. You haven’t been on a date in over a year. You spend every day here, man.” He said, pausing for a moment to sip at the water before he continued. You found yourself growing impatient, wondering why Jake wasn’t doing all he could to speed up the interaction. Then, you wondered if he was doing it on purpose to get on your nerves. At that thought, a devious little idea popped up in your mind. You were certain that you would never do something so risky had you not been drinking all day, nor would you have done it if you weren’t so crazed with desire for the man you never thought you would have. “Who knows? She might even feel the same way.” Roman offered, a smile clear in his tone.

Roman was an idiot for suggesting that your love for Jake was something to be questioned. In your entire time on earth, loving Jake was the only thing you’d ever known how to do, which is exactly why you were stuck under the table, hiding from Josh’s boyfriend as you waited for Jake to fuck you. Your love for him was the exact reason you had such convoluted thoughts about your next move, and the exact reason that you couldn’t find any shame as you slowly reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. Well, love, and the overwhelming desire to have him inside you again, in any way you could have him.

As your fingers hooked around the elastic holding the fabric to his hips, he jumped slightly in reaction to the unexpected touch. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, knowing that he knew exactly what you were thinking. Carefully, you pulled his pants away from him, freeing him from them once again. You felt him slouch a little lower in the chair, making it a bit easier for you, and also showing you that he was more than content with your actions.

“Yeah, maybe she does.” Jake breathed, swallowing hard as you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, running it slowly up his length. “Wouldn’t that be the dream.”

“I think you might be surprised.” Roman replied, leaning against the counter. “Why didn’t you kiss her, man? I mean, I know, but wouldn’t it have been the easiest way to tell her how you felt?”

“Uhm,” Jake started speaking again, but found it hard to focus on his words as your tongue swirled around his tip. The warm wetness of your mouth was fantastic the first time, but even more so the second. “I just didn’t want to do it like that, you know? She deserves better, and I didn’t want her to think that it was because I had to, rather than because I wanted to.” He answered, his voice higher than usual and his words breathy as they pushed past his lips.

“What are you going to say to her?”

‘God, he talks a lot.’ You thought to yourself, letting a trail of spit fall from your mouth onto his cock. ‘Just like his boyfriend.’ You raised your hand to his dick, using your palm to spread the wetness over him. You heard him take in a sharp breath, trying to keep it concealed as his hips raised in reaction to the touch. You continued to move your hand, stroking him slowly as you lowered your mouth to his tip once again. You could feel him throb in your mouth, pulsating against your tongue as you focused all of your attention on him. He was far more worked up that he was before, and It almost seemed as if the risky act was the cause of his current state.

“I—fuck,” he muttered the curse word under his breath as you bobbed your head down on him. “I don’t know, man. That I’m sorry, and that I love her and everything about her. Maybe that living with her was the happiest I’ve ever been, and that damn house feels like hell without her there to brighten it up. How I wanted to kiss her so bad, and everything she does amazes me, and I’ve only ever wanted her.” He rambled out the list of compliments, the praise indirect but clearly targeted towards you, rather than his conversation with Roman. You felt your heart skip a beat at the sound of his words, more specifically, at the proclamation of love.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good start.” Roman commended Jake for his choice of words. “You sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.” He commented on the strangeness of Jake’s stature and tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jake assured him, nodding his head as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Guess I’m just more upset about the whole thing than I thought.”

“S’okay, man. The two of you will work it out. You always do. I mean, she quit her job and moved to Nashville just to be with you again.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I fucked up, but I’ll fix it.” He said, his hands clenched into such tight fists that his knuckles were white and his fingernails drew blood on his palm. You took him in as far as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but you held back a gag, knowing it would do nothing to help your desire to stay hidden. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Roman hummed. “We’re always here for you. You know that.”

“I do, and I appreciate it.” Jake breathed, swallowing hard as he fought a groan.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake. Hopefully you get to talk to her.”

“Yeah, I hope so too. See you guys in the morning.” He said, the words coming out strangled as you suctioned your cheeks around him just a little more. With that, you heard footsteps echoing through the room, fading out the further he walked. After a few seconds, you couldn’t hear anything aside from Jake’s heavy breathing.

He waited a moment, just to ensure that Roman wouldn’t double back into the kitchen and discover the real reason behind his strangeness during their interaction. You continued on as if nothing changed at all, overly excited to please him and uncaring about his thoughts on the matter. When the coast was clear, Jake reached under the table, balling your hair in his fist as he pulled your head away from him. He fell from your lips with a popping sound, and you sucked in a sharp breath, barely realizing how badly you needed the air. He carefully slid the chair backwards, urging you to follow his lead and get out from under the table. When you did, your expression was smug and your eyes were blazing with a fire unfamiliar to him.

“What do you think you’re doing, trouble?” He snapped, his voice hushed so he didn’t catch any more unwanted attention. “You need me so bad you couldn’t even wait for it?” He asked, his tone dangerous and his face painted with a scowl, but you knew him better than to think he was actually angry with you. There was a glimmer of joy in his eyes, playful and light even as his expression directly contradicted his gaze. You gave him a sickly sweet smile, bringing your hand to your chin to wipe away any excess spit still lingering on your skin. “We’re you trying to get yourself caught?”

You weren’t, but you would be lying if you said the idea hadn’t crossed your mind. In the whirlwind of events, you felt like you left your former self upstairs in your bedroom, sleeping soundly under the covers. You were still riding the high of your confession, thrilled that not only did you finally find the courage to admit it, but it was reciprocated. His hands on you felt like heaven on earth, and you finally had the opportunity to live within the dirty fantasy you had created in your mind so long ago. Something about Jake made you want to live on the wild side of things for once, take risks and live without fear of making a mistake or having consequence. You had never felt more alive, and it was all because of him.

“You were?” He came to the conclusion himself, your silence being enough of an answer for him.

“No, sir.” You shook your head, trying to figure out the best way to explain yourself. You weren’t trying to get caught, but the thrill of knowing you could made it all the better.

“Tell me what it is then, sweetheart.” He said, beckoning you towards him. You crawled out from under the table, careful as you rose to your feet and stepped towards him.

“I didn’t want to get caught.” You clarified, smiling down at him as you stood before him.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grinned, holding his arm out for you, hoping you would take the hint and join him. You did as he wanted, carefully placing your legs on either side of him as you straddled him on the chair. His hands landed on your ass, positioning you as you lowered your weight onto him.

“Not lying, sir.” You squeaked the words out, feeling his length press against your clothed core as he used his strength to pull you down on him. As he pressed into you, the slight friction gave you a sense of relief when he brushed against your clit.

“S’okay, trouble. I always knew you were a little whore.” He muttered. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself moving your hips against him, desperate for a bit more than he was giving you at the moment. “Look at you, so desperate to be fucked you don’t care who’s watching.” He growled, his lips close to your ear as you anchored your hand on his shoulder to keep yourself steady. “I can feel how fucking wet you are. Can’t believe all of this was waiting for me the whole time.”

“Are you going to do something about it, or just tell me how bad you want to?” You asked, the burning in the pit of your stomach becoming nearly unbearable.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He snapped, but his hand began to move from your hip, tickling the skin of your back as his fingers trailed upwards. His touch was full of love, assuring you that every word that left his lips was part of an act. Then, the hand that still remained on your hip shifted, and his fingers hooked through the side of your panties. With one sharp tug, the fabric unravelled at the seam.

If you were any less turned on, you might have been angry with him for destroying them, but you wanted him so bad that you did not have a care in the world about it. His other hand did the same to the other side, clearly seeing your enjoyment just from the look on your face. Without any further instructions, you lifted your hips, allowing him to discard the material on the floor with ease. You took it upon yourself to reach between the two of you, grabbing him in your hand and guiding the tip of his cock through the pooling arousal.

“What is it, sweetheart? Do you like the thrill, or are you just desperate to get fucked?” He asked, his voice low. With his mouth by your ear, you heard him loud and clear, and the gravelly sound of his words only made the desire grow stronger. “Be honest with me, baby. I want to know what’s got you so worked up.” He moved your hand away, taking control of the situation as you hovered over him. He guided himself through your folds, slowing his movement as his tip brushed over your clit.

“Both.” You whimpered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his.

“See, Angel? That wasn’t so hard. You have to tell me what you want to get what you want.” He whispered, his lips upturned into a smile. “You like the thrill so much, so I’ll give it to you, but you have to be good for me, okay? Don’t want to actually get caught, because I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” You felt yourself clench around nothing, the sound of his words prompting a full physical reaction from you. It was a special feeling knowing that he felt some kind of possessive nature when it came to you, that you were his and only he could see you in such a state. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded against him, feeling him line himself up with your entrance.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled. He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear in a moment of sweetness. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed. He clamped his hand around your mouth, the action rough and unexpected. You didn’t have any time to register it, because at the same time, he used a hand on your hip to pull you down on him.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming almost immediately, and you found yourself grateful for his palm tightly wrapped around your lips, ensuring that not a single sound could escape you. His size was something you were not used to, but it didn’t take long to adjust to the feeling. He was easy on you for a moment, realizing that maybe he was a little to rough for your liking, but when your desperate eyes met his, telling him all he needed to know, his head fell back on his shoulders and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to keep himself quiet.

You took the initiative, beginning a slow roll of your hips against him. You watched as his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed back every sound you were desperate to hear. He felt even better than you imagined he would, filling you up better than anyone else ever could. The position allowed for him to fill you completely, his tip brushing against the sweet spot inside of you with every move you made. It was addicting, and you felt greedy even as you had him so completely, because it still wasn’t enough.

As you rocked your hips against him, he placed his hand on your ass, pushing you further down on him as you moved forward. His hand on your mouth did well at silencing you, but you still found yourself letting muffled moans fill the air.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He growled, taking a long breath to calm himself down. “So fuckin’ tight.” He muttered under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he focused on the feeling of being inside of you. You sped your movements, using his words as motivation to work harder. He let out a low groan, trying to keep it quiet so he did not disturb anyone in the other room. He surpressed it relatively well, until it trailed off into a whine. The sound was beautiful, making your walls clench around him, pulling him even further.

The two of you were a mess, completely infatuated and only able to think of the undying need you had for each other. The thought of stopping what you had started seemed equal to torture, and he wasn’t sure he could stop himself even if someone were to catch the two of you in the act.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asked, the sound of his voice settling deep in your spine and engulfing your stomach into flames. “Wanted it so bad you couldn’t even let me take you upstairs?” He continued, doing the best he could to move his hips in time with yours, making the sensation all the more powerful. You nodded against his hold, almost sad that you couldn’t tell him how good he was making you feel, sad that he couldn’t hear how desperate you were for him to keep fucking you.

His grip was tight on you, his fingers painfully sharp against your skin as he held your ass in his hand. You knew there would be bruises on you by the time the morning came, and the thought only seemed to push you closer to the edge. You wanted to remember, to be reminded of every dirty detail the night held every single time you looked in the mirror. To you, there was nothing better in the world to think about. After fantasizing about finding yourself in the position with him for so long, there was nothing more euphoric than finally having him in such a way.

“Tell me how fucking good it feels.” He hissed, slackening his grip on your mouth. “Want to hear all about it, trouble.” You let out a long breath, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible as you leaned forward towards him. You settled your mouth over his ear, keeping your voice low as you told him the things he so desperately wanted to hear.

“God, you feel so good, sir.” You whined, your lips grazing against his earlobe as you spoke. “Nobody else could ever make me feel this way.”

“That’s right, baby.” He crooned, happy that you’d drawn that conclusion all on your own. “You were always mine, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yes.” You gasped, feeling his hand guide your hips down on him particularly hard.

“All those other boys didn’t mean anything, hmm? ‘Cause you were always going to end up in my arms, right?” He continued his tyrant as you felt one of his hands creep up to the back of your neck. His fingers clamped down on your neck, closer to the base of your skull, almost as if he was holding on in fear you would pull away. He needed to hear the words, he needed to know that he hadn’t created a fallacy in his head and gotten the situation misconstrued. He needed to know that he was to you what you were to him.

“I only ever wanted you, Jake.” You confessed, knowing that no matter how hard you denied it, it was the truth. Heartbreaks did not hurt you the way they were described in movies. Dating never interested you as a teen preparing to leave for college, nor as a young adult who had spent the majority of her life single. You didn’t fawn over cute boys or go out to the bar in search of company, because you didn’t care about anyone the way you cared about Jake.

“Say it, trouble. Want to hear the words.” He muttered, holding your head close to his ear so he didn’t miss a single syllable of the phrase.

“I’m yours, Jake. All yours,” You whispered, feeling the pressure in your belly reach a new high. “I always have been, and I always will be.” You finished off the statement by letting your teeth graze over his earlobe. Gently, you pulled it between your teeth, holding him in the position as you allowed him to grasp the full intent of the sentiments.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, easing up on the pressure he was holding your head with as you placed a kiss just below his ear. You pulled away from him slightly, just enough so you could turn your head upwards towards his. When the position allowed for it, you pressed your lips to his, showing him that you meant every word of what you said.

The kiss itself was bordering pornographic, not even close to the sweetness of the ones that came before. It was a mess of tongues and teeth, neither of you caring about the impracticality of the action and only concerned about having each other in every way you could. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, applying slight pressure as he held your hips down on his. You let out a moan into his mouth, your hand on his shoulder slipping to the base of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you keen on breaking the position until he pulled away first. Without moving his lips too far from your own, he began to speak, abundantly clear and concise about what he wanted of you.

“Listen to me, trouble.” He urged, his breath on your skin sending goosebumps rising across your entire body. “I want you to stand up, and grab your clothes off the floor, okay?” He asked, waiting for you to respond before explaining any further. You nodded, showing him you understood all that he was saying. “When you bend over, make sure you do it real slow, because I’ve been waiting to see you like that all fucking night.”

“Okay.” You smiled, waiting patiently for him to finish his instructions.

“Then, you’re going to go upstairs, and I’ll be right behind you, angel, waiting to keep fucking you. I’m done keeping you quiet. Don’t care if the whole fucking house hears you once we get up there.” He spoke with a slight gruffness to his voice that you had never quite heard from him before. Now that you had heard it, you never wanted him to speak to you any other way. “Understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, taking one last look over his face as you bargained with the thought of parting from him. As you pulled away from him, he wrapped his arm around you, stopping you from moving any further.

“Wait.” He said, pulling you back into him. He crashed his lips back on to your own, savoring the sweetness for just a minute longer before he let you carry out the task he’d given you. “There. Go, before I change my mind again.” He ordered. You gave him a smile as you stood to your feet, finding the loss of him inside of you nearly devastating. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” He said, reaching forward and lightly smacking your ass as you turned around.

Your face turned red as you leaned down, making sure to give him a show as you collected your shirt from the ground. You heard him let out a shaky breath as he watched you; you could feel his eyes on you, never trailing off course as you straightened back up. You looked back over your shoulder, soaking in the feeling of seeing his expression, lustful and dazed as his eyes traveled from your ass to your face. To top it off, you gave him a wink before you threw your shirt over your head, covering yourself in case you ran into anyone on your way upstairs.

Before you even stepped towards the stairs, he was standing up and grabbing the torn remnants of your underwear off the floor. With two long strides, he was behind you again, adjusting himself in his pants as he pulled them back over his hips. Together, you went upstairs, sneaking past the sleeping boys in the living room and rushing down the hallway. When the door closed behind the two of you, you wasted no time throwing your shirt to the floor. You flopped onto the bed, on your back as you grinned up at him. You watched as he kicked his pants and boxers to the side before his attention landed on you again.

“You remember what I said, sweetheart?” He asked, approaching the end of the bed as he gazed down upon you. You settled yourself amongst the pillows, smiling up at him as you gave a nod of your head. “I want to hear all of it. Don’t care about anything other than that, actually.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you at his words, finding it funnier than he meant to be.

“Whatever you want, sir:” You made sure to enunciate the word carefully, ensuring the impact would be made.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He seemed to break from the facade slightly, amazed that you were actually in front of him, saying all the things he dreamed to hear from you. “How did I get so lucky?” He asked, falling to his knees on the bed before you. The question was rhetorical, not meant to be answered, but he felt the need to express his gratitude for the moment.

He moved towards you, letting his hands dust over your thighs as he settled himself between them. He took his time, letting his hands graze every available inch of you. Then, when he satisfied his need to touch you, he hooked his arms underneath your thighs, using a small amount of force to pull you towards him. You let out a gasp, not expecting the sudden movement. The scratch of the sheets against your legs sent a shiver down your spine as you slid down the mattress towards him, amplifying the sensation in the pit of your stomach that had only been growing more intense as time went on.

He pressed his lips to the inside of your thighs, soft and gentle as he worked his way upwards. As his mouth neared your core, your breathing became more shallow, finding yourself nearly driven to insanity just from the thought of his tongue on you.

“It’s a sin that I got to feel you before I got to taste you.” He spoke quietly, as if he was talking to himself more than he was talking to you. “Didn’t even properly appreciate all that I have.” He continued, his lips moving away from your leg and closer to your cunt. “Please don’t think I’m going to make it a habit, trouble.” Before you could respond, he closed the gap between the two of you. He flattened his tongue against you, savoring the taste of his hard work as he moved from your entrance to your clit.

“Oh, fuck.” You let out a shaky sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation. It had been so long since you had anyone touch you so intimately, and never had you found someone who could do it so well. He circled his tongue around your clit, agonizingly slow as he tried to cement the memory in his brain for eternity.

He let his tongue dip back down to your entrance, pushing it inside of you with little hesitation. The feeling was new, but it was fantastic. He curled it as he pumped it into you, keeping the movements steady and similar every time he did it. Your hands snaked down towards his hair, tangling the soft locks around your fingers as you silently urged him to continue.

His motions began to grow more comfortable as he became more familiar with you. He wanted to know the things you liked, what could make you take your clothes off without a second thought, and what could make you come undone within minutes. He wanted to know everything about you, all of the things you had kept secret before. Now, there were no more barriers or boundaries holding him back, and he wanted to make himself an expert on anything concerning you.

As his tongue pumped inside of you again, he let out a hum of pleasure. The vibration ran through you, seemingly rattling your bones and throwing you completely off course. It knocked the air straight from your lungs and caused your fingers to tighten in his hair. On your own accord, you threw your leg over his shoulder, twisting it around him slightly to pull him closer. He took the action as a plea for more, and when it came to you, he would give you anything you wanted. He picked up his pace, pulling you down a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but grind your hips against his mouth as he worked at you, swallowing down every last drop of arousal you had to offer him.

When the first moan slipped past your lips, he was almost dejected by the thought of not being there to drink it in as you let it go. That thought quickly passed as he realized how badly he wanted to hear it again. He withdrew his tongue, turning his attention to your clit again in hopes that it would help you loosen up, and more importantly, get loud. The whole reason he urged you to come upstairs in the first place was because of the beautiful sounds he knew you would make, and he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t determined to hear every last one of them.

You let out a whine, long and drawn out as he suctioned his lips around your clit. You could feel the sly smile form on his lips as he heard it, breaking the momentum only for a moment until he could focus again. This time, he let a moan out, unable to contain his own enjoyment of the moment. The knowledge that he was getting off over pleasing you was almost too much to take, and you felt yourself begin to grow delirious from the thought alone.

“Taste so sweet, angel, just like I thought you would.” He pulled his mouth away from you for just long enough to spew the praise. You let out a breathy moan, thrown into a whole new wave of pleasure at the sound of his words. You knew that you were close to the edge, with everything he’d done to you so far and what he was doing now, you were long past the point of holding yourself back.

“Jake, m’so close.” You gasped, feeling it become harder and harder to keep yourself quiet. A particularly vulgar moan filled the quiet air, and you noticed as it reached his ears, his hips grinded downward into the mattress. He was aching for relief again, worked up to the point of desperation like he was before you ever touched him at all.

Had the situation been anything close to normal, you might have been embarrassed over your shameless need for him, but you didn’t care in the slightest. Years of sexual tension had finally resulted into one, climactic end. You needed him like you needed water to survive. Now that you had a taste of what he had to offer, you would never be able to live without it. Every daydream you created in your mind didn’t even come close to the reality of the situation.

“Jake, baby, please don’t stop.” You pleaded, finding yourself gripping his hair so tightly that your knuckles began to ache. You were grinding your hips against his tongue, needing more than he could possibly give you as he did his best to bring you to an orgasm. “Oh, god.” You cried, your head falling back against the pillows as a wave of euphoria washed over you.

The orgasm was different than any you had before, and you knew it was because he was the one who gave it to you. Your body felt light, almost as if it would float away if he wasn’t there to hold you to earth. His tongue coaxed you through the process, his movements gentle and full of love. Your entire body was ablaze with pleasure, like every nerve ending was searing with their very own red hot flame. It felt so good that you grieved the end before it ever came, and it was so intense you prayed you would survive it.

When you relaxed against the mattress, he pulled away from you, quick and ready to move on. You barely caught your breath before he began to speak, sending your already busy mind swirling with even more nonsense.

“Get up, trouble.” He ordered, repeating himself for a second time before you processed what he was saying. You stared at him, finding a strange comfort in the sight of his face as you tried to bargain with the unfamiliar feelings coursing through your veins. “Get the fuck up,” he snapped, quickly losing any bit of sweetness he had left in him. “Don’t make me say it again.” He warned.

That time, his words actually struck the right spot in your brain, allowing you to comprehend the situation. You sat up, watching him for a moment as you awaited further instructions. He laid down on the mattress, his cock painfully hard as he reached down and stroked himself. The relief was not the same as what you could provide him, but it would suffice for the moment.

“Come here.” He ordered, holding his arm out to you. You did as he asked, scrambling to your knees and making a move to straddle him again. When your knees landed on either side of him, hovering over his cock, he grabbed your hips before you could move any further. You furrowed your eyebrows, still strung out on your climax as you tried to understand what he wanted from you. “My face, sweetheart.” He explained, his expression serious as he spoke the words. “Sit on my face.” He continued once he realized you still weren’t quite grasping his intent.

“Oh,” you mustered the strength to speak, only slightly embarrassed over your misunderstanding. You did as he asked, slowly shimmying your way up his body until your thighs were grazing his cheeks.

“That’s better, angel.” He softened his tone ever so slightly, worried he might have been too harsh with you. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He asked you as he admired the view from below. He didn’t give you time to answer before he did it for you. “Every fucking morning I’d wake up disappointed that I didn’t have you like this.” He settled comfortably between your legs as if it were natural, like it was home and he’d been suffering from a nasty bout of homesickness. “Don’t make me wait any longer for it, sweetheart. I don’t think I can take it.”

With that, you lowered your hips down so his mouth connected with your cunt once more. The new position made it so the same action felt entirely different. You were hovering just above his mouth, allowing him to lift his head to connect with your core. You were fearful of hurting him, but he was having none of it. His hands clamped down on your hips, pulling you down towards him so your body weight rested on his face. It made the position less awkward for you, and much more enjoyable.

His tongue started at your entrance, repeating the same motions as earlier. He curled his tongue inside of you, fucking you with it in the same way he would do with his hands or his cock. As he did so, you felt the tip of his nose brushing over your clit, adding the extra bit of stimulation needed to make the entire process otherworldly. Your legs were quivering from the pleasure coursing through you, and your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. The only thoughts in your mind were filthy, all pertaining to the man below you as he guided you to rock your hips against his tongue with his hands.

You bit down on your lip, still having some fear of disrupting your friends sleeping in the other room, but it didn’t take long for that worry to dissipate along with every other one you ever had. Your moans were desperate, pornographic, and exactly what he wanted to hear. They drove him to work harder, drawing inspiration from every sound you made so he knew where to improve on his next move. He was a man gone mad; completely and utterly lost in his own need for you. When he needed a breath of air, he moved his head up just enough so his nose wasn’t covered, and he settled his tongue over your clit.

He was working at you with intent. The first orgasm was a slow build, and he ensured that it was memorable. Now, he was desperate to drive you to that state again. He felt like he needed it to survive, to feel your thighs squeeze against his skull as profanities fell from your lips, that every time your hips grinded against him for that extra bit of friction, you were forcing a little more life into his lungs. In the moment, he felt like he only existed to please you, that the only reason for his existence was to make you happy and ensure that you were taken care of.

He was more in love with you than he ever thought possible, and he was determined to prove it to you. All of your self-doubt and second guessing had hurt him in the worst way possible. To know that he loved you so deeply and you thought he didn’t was painstakingly hard for him to digest, and the words you spoke in your moment of high emotion stuck with him. He knew he did wrong, that he hurt you even though he thought he was doing the opposite, and he never wanted to make you feel that way again. The only thing he knew how to do was love you, and he would be damned if you ever thought otherwise.

You were bordering your second orgasm, his unwavering attention on your already sensitive body was overwhelming in the best possible way. You’d grown much more relaxed as the minutes passed, and you were having a hard time keeping yourself upright as he continued his relentless pursuit for your pleasure. Your stomach was engulfed in flames, the knot tightening with every flick of his tongue, and he could tell that he was pushing you closer to the edge. Your thighs tightened around his head, drawing him in and locking him there so you did not lose your momentum.

Your breathing was ragged, heavy as it shook your shoulders and made your chest heave. Curses and utterances of praise fell from your lips, commending him from his hard work, and the moans that followed were the best compliment he could ever receive. He wanted it almost more than you did, and he made it clear that he wouldn’t stop until he had it.

“Jake,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut and your eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. Sweat glistened on your forehead as you felt the familiar sensation begin to pulse under your skin. Your entire body was thrown back into pleasure and you were like an addict searching for a fix. You moved your hips against him in time with his tongue, both of you working together to achieve the common goal. Your abdomen was tense, sore from the tightness of your muscles, and your hips ached from the strength in which he was holding you to him.

“Fuck!” You groaned, the sensation becoming too intense to withstand. With one last flick of his tongue, you were sent spiraling all over again. Your legs tightened around his head, your hips locked in place as your hands began to tremble from the intensity of the feeling. Your lungs burned for a breath of air as your entire body froze in place, but his tongue didn’t slow, and he wasn’t going to back down until he was certain that he utilized every bit of his power to make sure you were satisfied.

Finally, the moment seemed to pass and your body went lax against him. You took in a sharp breath, filling your lungs with the breath they had been begging you to take. Your head was spinning and your eyes were heavy, tired from all of the night’s activities thus far. He used his hands on your hips to lift you from his face, catching his own breath as you took the time to come back to earth.

“Being so good for me, baby. Don’t give up on me now.” He pleaded, noticing your drooping eyelids and the exhaustion written all over your face. “We’re just getting to the good part.” He said, carefully shimmying his way upwards. You lifted yourself up, using your last bit of energy to help him as he settled his hips underneath yours.

Without another word, he guided you down so the tip of his cock met your cunt again, sliding through the wetness and landing on your clit. Your body’s natural reaction was to meet his movement, your hips going in search of something you weren’t sure you could handle. He was watching you, his pupils engulfing his irises as lust began to craze him all over again. He used one hand to line himself up with your entrance, and slowly, he lowered you onto him. The feeling of him filling you again was so good, but almost too much for you to handle in your fucked-out state. You lowered yourself down until he was filling you completely, the tip of his cock resting against your cervix as the two of you sat still for a moment, enjoying the closeness amongst all of the chaos.

“Just for a second, baby. Just wanted to feel you again, and then I promise I’ll do the rest of the work.” He said, inadvertently begging you to look at him, to catch his gaze and say something. Your silence was concerning him, although not completely. He knew he’d just put you through a whirlwind of emotion and excitement all at once, and he was well aware you just needed a moment to process it.

“God, you feel so good.” You muttered, raising one hand to his chest. You placed your palm flat against it, holding yourself upright in fear you might fall as you began to rock your hips against him again. You weren’t sure where the energy was coming from; you were exhausted, beyond any kind of tired you had ever felt before. You were ready to get under the blankets and fall asleep next to him, but your body was telling you otherwise. Your need for him was primal, extending far beyond any rational thought or need for rest. You couldn’t resist it, and you couldn’t stop it.

“You take it so fucking good, trouble.” He groaned, raising his hips off the bed as he held your body to his own. “Do you like being a whore for me? Letting me do whatever I want to you?”

“I do,” you whined, nodding as your eyes stayed closed. “I love it, baby.”

“Fucking right you do.” He muttered, letting his eyes rake over the pretty picture sat atop of him.

He stared at your face, drinking in the detail of your messy hair and your flushed cheeks. He noticed the swell of your lips, pink and perfect as they enticed him to lean in for another taste. His gaze traveled down to your chest, watching as your breasts bounced with every move of your hips. Then, they moved to your stomach, which was tense as the muscles supported your movements. Eventually, his eyes landed on the exact spot where your body met his. He watched closely as you raised yourself off of him, driven mad by the sight of him fucking into you as you lowered yourself back down.

Perfection wasn’t even a close enough word to describe how he thought of you, and he truly believed he was the luckiest man to ever live.

He let you set your own pace for a moment, hoping that the break would allow for you to recover enough for him to take over again. You kept a slow, steady pace, fuelling the fire in your belly even further every time you came down on him. Your whole body was sensitive, still tingling with the ghost of pleasure from your last orgasm. Every sensation was amplified by a million, every touch all the more beautiful and every emotion was felt so much stronger.

“Look so pretty on top of me, trouble.” He rasped, drunk off the feeling of loving you and cursing himself for not saying anything sooner. “Makes me want to keep you like this forever.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” you breathed, smiling down at him. You took a moment to admire him, his hair laying on the mattress below him, framing his perfect face. His cheeks were tinged red, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you continued to roll your hips against him. His lips were parted, shallow breaths escaping him as he let you do as you pleased with him. His biceps were flexed, the muscles visible as he held your hips, aiding your movements. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his breathing ragged as he tried to keep himself from reaching his own climax.

He was the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on, and the most precious thing you ever had the pleasure of touching.

You were working yourself up to another orgasm, the pace slow but impactful. He noticed the expression on your face change, your breathing speed as your movements became more frantic. You wanted to chalk it up to the sensitivity of your body, tired and pushed to its limit, but you knew it wasn’t true. The simple thought of being his forever was enough to send you over the edge; you wanted to love him, and for him to love you, openly and unapologetically instead of quietly and secretly. You wanted to be with him, to wake up next to him again and this time, start your day by telling him how much he meant to you, to show him how much he meant to you.

To know he felt the same was enough to drive you crazy, and that’s exactly what it was doing.

“You going to give me another one, baby?” He asked, removing one hand from your hip. As he awaited a response, he brought his middle finger to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you as he pushed it past his lips. He collected some spit on the tip of his finger, retracting the digit from his mouth and reaching between your legs. He settled his attention in your clit, tracing circles around it as you continued to use him to get yourself off. “Come on, Angel. Let go.” He whispered, his tone sweet as he urged you to give in to the feeling.

“Oh, god.” You whimpered, your shoulder locking as you tried your best to hold yourself upright. Your eyes were shut, your entire body trembling as you prepared for the storm to wash over you.

“Look at me.” Jake growled, increasing the pressure of his finger on your clit. The harsh words sent a rush of pleasure through you, your walls tightening around him as you peeked at his face through your eyelashes. “That’s it. There’s my beautiful girl.” He breathed, watching as your head tilted back over your shoulders.

“Fuck,” you hissed, feeling the warmth begin to spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it from your toes to the very tips of your fingers, behind your eyes and deep in your chest. Your legs vibrated as you used all of your strength to keep moving your hips, and your arm threatened to give way under the pressure.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, trouble?” He asked, his words trailing off as his chest rattled with another deep groan. His breathing was ragged, his fingers barely able to keep up with the simple circle he was tracing into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

As your climax hit its peak, your arm slackened and your upper half fell forward towards him. He used the moment to his advantage, removing his hand from your hip and bringing it to the back of your neck. He pulled you all the way down, your chest pressed against his as he leaned towards you for a kiss. With his lips on yours and your hips still moving against his, you were certain there would never be a greater pleasure in your entire life. His lips silenced the moans falling from your own, and he held you close to him until he felt you begin to relax against him.

Once he knew the most powerful part of the moment had been spent, he removed his finger from your clit and wrapped his arm around you. In one swift motion, he broke from the kiss and used his strength to flip the two of you over. You landed with your back against the mattress and he settled between your legs, still inside of you and wasting no time as he began the final stretch of the night.

As he began to drill his hips into yours, relentless and unforgiving despite your already tired body, he took it upon himself to grab a pillow from beside him. When you noticed what he was intending to do, you lifted your head, shaky and delirious from the strength of his thrusts as he slipped it under your neck.

Once you were settled comfortably, he trailed one of his hands down your thigh, landing on your knee as he wrapped his fingers around your leg. With a little help from you, he guided your leg around him, using the anchorage point to pull your hips down further towards him. As he did so, he thrusted his own hips forward, the impact of his movements sending a yelp escaping from your lips. A sadistic smirk formed on his lips at the sound, realizing that this was the exact position he wanted to get the most out of the situation. He moved himself forward, leaning back on his knees as he guided your other leg around him.

The position change meant that his pace would slow, but it would significantly increase the strength in which he could fuck into you. You crossed your ankles behind his back, holding your legs in place as his hands went in search of your hips. With every thrust of his hips, he pulled you down on him. His cock brushed against your cervix, sending a rush of painful pleasure straight to the pit of your stomach. Now, there was no holding back; you were whining, moaning and crying his name as he utilized his new found freedom to torture you in the best way possible.

“Please, Jake, don’t stop.” You panted, barely squeezing the words out amidst the moans he was coaxing out of you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really do take it well.” He commended you as you reached out for his arm, your throat raw as you begged for him to continue. “You want more?” He inquired, ensuring he was hearing you right as he studied the dazed look in your eye.

“Please, baby.” You nodded, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. He let out a low chuckle, leaning his body back slightly and his head forward. Without a second thought, he centered his mouth with your cunt, not even thinking of pulling out of you as he let a trail of spit fall from his lips, rather forcefully at that.

You swallowed hard, your eyes widening as you processed the degrading act. If it were anyone but him, you might have recoiled from the crude behavior, but on him, it looked fucking good. As he continued to fuck you, he reached his fingers between your legs again, using his generously provided lubrication to continue his torment on your clit.

“What?” He snapped, looking down at your surprised eyes. “You said you liked being a whore for me. Don’t be so fucking surprised when I use you like one.” You felt the blood drain from your face at the sound of his vile words, but it didn’t deter the growing pressure in the pit of your stomach. It fueled it further, increasing it ten-fold with the one simple statement. You could not find the strength to verbally respond to his statement, instead feeling your lungs burn as another pitchy whine filled the air. His lips twitched upwards into a smirk, happy that his words had the effect he hoped they would.

He did not have to work very hard to get you to the brink of insanity, another orgasm an imminent threat as he continued his relentless pursuit for your pleasure. He watched you carefully, focused on the way your body moved when his hips connected with yours. He was carefully attentive to the expression on your face, hyper-aware of every shift in your features in case you experienced a single moment of discomfort.

He was filthy, his words vulgar and his movements obscene. The picture the two of you found yourselves in had long past pornographic, something that only existed in the very depths of your minds when you were trying to sleep at night, but not once did he make you feel unloved, or used in any way negative. Despite the act he put on, you could see the care behind his eyes, and you could feel it in every touch and every action.

“You think you can give me one more?” He asked, but his words were barely phrased as a question.

“I don’t know, baby.” You whimpered, already feeling yourself reach the limit. It was not a question of if you could, but rather if you could survive it. Your entire body felt like it would give out, like you would collapse from exhaustion if you continued on the way you were going. You felt the intensity of the climax before it even began, but you feared you might not be able to handle it when it came.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really asking, trouble.” He clarified, adding a little more pressure to his touch on your clit. “You can do it, sweetheart. Been so good for me all night, just a little longer.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, trying to pull yourself together for long enough to give him what he was asking for. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking long breaths as you bargained with the devil. The godless acts you engaged in that night made all of your prayers go unanswered, and you knew there was only one person who was listening, now, and you needed his strength to get through it.

You focused on the feeling of him inside you, how well he filled you, how perfect the two of you fit together. You thought of the pleasure with every withdrawal of his hips and the painful sensation every time he slammed himself into you. The two together made an otherworldly combination, but you feared that even that wasn’t enough to force you over the edge.

Getting irritated with your lack of understanding of his need to give you another orgasm, he slowed himself just enough to adjust his position. The hand still lingering on your hip loosened, and he leaned his upper body forward, just a little closer to you. As his fingers continued to trace your clit, he let his forearm rest over your lower abdomen, underneath your belly button. Then, he applied the slightest bit of pressure there, allowing you to get used to the sensation before taking it any further.

A desperate cry left your lips, the small sensation making the world of difference in the moment. As he leaned forward a little further, careful not to take it too far, the pleasure began to grow into something incomprehensible. He was doing so skillfully, applying pressure atop your bladder, which in turn, applied a whole new pressure to your g-spot as he fucked into you.

“That’s it, angel.” He growled, not caring that he was doing the brunt of the work in the moment, because he knew it would be worth it for him. “That’s my girl.” He continued, coaxing you to give in to the feeling one last time. Your walls fluttered around him, drawing him in further as the pleasure reached its peak.

“Jake,” you tried to warn him, but his name barely left your lips before you felt yourself slipping into the state of euphoria only he could give you. Your mind went blank, your eyes squeezed shut as your limbs locked and your legs trembled. You couldn’t breathe, the sensation so intense that it almost forced you to forget how to do so.

Seeing you in such a state again sent him over the edge, and he knew he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. As you descended into your orgasm, so did he. You grasped at his arm, holding him close to you as you cried his name. His hips stuttered, losing the momentum as he withdrew a sharp breath. He muttered a long slur of curses, mixed with small praise as he spilled his release into you, dragging out the feeling for as long as possible. By the time you came down, his orgasm was beginning to fade away, too.

Both of you were breathless, trying to settle the mess of racing thoughts in your minds. He eased up on the pressure he was applying above your hipbone, slowly so the loss did not affect you too badly. He removed his hand from your clit, moving it over your thigh as he placed his hand against the warm skin. Gently, sweetly, he rubbed his hand over your limb, the soft touching helping you come back to reality a little faster. He looked down at where your bodies met, enjoying the view of him buried inside of you as he withdrew his hips slightly. He took in a shaky breath as he gently pushed his hips forward again, fucking his release back into you.

A small sigh left your lips, the feeling of his slight movements amplified by a million after your final orgasm of the night. Eventually, he pulled himself out of you completely, keeping his hand on your leg as he did so. You tried to fight the sinking disappointment in your chest as you noticed the emptiness you felt without him inside you.

Neither of you spoke for a short time, wanting to let the energy of the moment exist in the air for a while before you moved on to anything else. He collapsed on the bed beside you, looking over at you before pulling you into his arms. You melted into the touch, exhausted and comforted by the familiar feeling of his arms around you. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your face as you fought sleep. It would be so easy, so peaceful to spend the night in the same position, not having to worry about anything else, but you knew a conversation was long overdue.

“I, uh…” he trailed off, taking in a deep breath as he thought about what he wanted to say. “We’re good at being friends, trouble, and we always have been, but I’d like to learn how to be good at being in love with you, too. So far, I’ve sucked at it.” He confessed, his voice quiet and his demeanour anxious.

“I haven’t been very good at it either, but I think I’d also like to learn.” You confessed, your stomach filled with warmth and swarming butterflies.

“Be my girlfriend, Y/N. It’s not much different than what we do now, but with a whole lot more fun.” You laughed, finding his way of asking objectively strange but perfectly fitting for him and your relationship with each other. “Don’t laugh at me. That doesn’t make me feel great.” He chuckled, clearly joking but still a bit nervous of rejection.

“Of course I will, Jacob.” You assured him, unable to believe he really thought you might say no.

“Okay, great.” He let out a breath of relief at the sound of your words. “And obviously not right away, or anything like that, but I think I’d like you to move back in with me. Whenever you’re ready, of course. I miss you when you’re not there. Doesn’t feel right without you.”

“What?” You asked, sitting up with an incredulous look on your face. He recoiled slightly, worried that he said something wrong, but you quickly continued your statement to ease his fears. “And get rid of the pool you worked so hard to build for me?”

“Fuck that pool, trouble.” He laughed, catching on to your joke as quickly as you spewed it. “Sell this place and come back to me, and I’ll build you a thousand fucking pools. I’ll give you whatever you want, s’long as I get to call you mine and wake up next to you again.”

“No need for a thousand pools, Jacob.” You grinned, finding his sentiment sweet but completely unnecessary. “No need for anything at all, because being yours is all I want to do.” With that, you leaned down and placed a kiss to his lips, feeling more at home than you had ever felt before.

Tags: @brookekiszkaa

235 notes · View notes

stuffeddeer · 28 days

Note

okay but..... pathetic yearning beast!stalkerzai... he's so quiet abt his obsession with u making up any excuse to have u around for subordinate purposes and when ur not around him he makes sure he can still keep tabs on u AHHH hes so sad and so smitten

"pathetic" i dont need to hear any more. im on board.

The continuous knocking on your apartment door leaves you anxious, quickly pulling on a comfy sweatshirt before answering the door. A breeze flies into the room, causing you to shiver, before you make eye contact with,

"Why aren't you at work today?" Dazai crosses his arms, an angry expression on his face. Though, the pout he wears causes it to be less intimidating than he'd normally be.

You glance into your apartment briefly, still feeling chilly while exposed to the outside air. "Um... I don't work?"

"You always work."

"Right. Which is why I have today off." Awkwardly, you itch your arm. "Am I… needed, Boss?"

Dazai sighs before walking into your apartment (with no invitation) and closes your own door behind him. "You're freezing."

"I'm slightly chilled," you shrug, brushing off the notion. Any other subordinate wouldn't dare correct the boss of the Port Mafia, but he'd always been more lenient with you - supposedly because you ‘aren’t as dumb’ as the rest. "But that's what the hoodie is for."

Without another word, Dazai plops down onto your couch, making a show of looking around your apartment. It’s tiny - the whole thing barely the size of his office at HQ — and Dazai wonders if you’d rather move in with him. For more space, of course. And he guesses you’d be saving on rent that way, too.

“How do you know where I live?” You ask curiously. Sure, it’s probably somewhere in your files, but your boss never seemed like the type to care.

Shrugging, he murmurs, “It’s my job.”

You want to make this visit quick, but kicking out your boss didn’t seem like a smart idea. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a cup of tea?..”

Yes, Dazai wants to try your tea. Just because you’re his subordinate, and he needs to make sure it’s up to par. What if he needs you to serve tea to some associates in the future? “I’d love one.”

Biting back a sigh, you fill your kettle before placing it on the stove, watching as your old gas stove flickers on. Silence hangs between you two - you had no intention of carrying the conversation when he just barged in uninvited.

Dazai seems to have a similar idea, sitting laxly on your couch and waiting for his tea. You pour one cup, uninterested in making one yourself, before placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Sugar? Milk?”

“This is fine, thanks.” He takes a sip. Heavenly, he’s sure. Well, all tea tastes the same, but something about it coming from your hands… delectable. It’s as though he can taste the love you must pour into every cup.

Mouth shut, you take a seat on the chair across from him. “May I ask, sir, why are you here? Am I needed?” The question is posed once again as you hope for a quick resolution. Kicking out your boss is wrong, but hopefully he’ll read between the lines and show himself out - the same way he showed himself in.

A long sip of tea permeates the otherwise silent room. He’s doing this on purpose, you’re sure of it.

“…I was worried,” he mumbles into the mug, sound muffled and quiet.

“Sorry?”

“You should be,” he replies, uninterested in repeating himself. “I needed you today, only to find out you vanished into thin air.”

“I didn’t run, if that’s what you’re implying,” your eyes narrow. You would not be mistaken for a traitor.

“No, no,” he grins. You were at your most entertaining when you became combative. Dazai much prefers you like this rather than subservient. “You took today off.”

Correcting the boss of the Port Mafia was risky, but, “You gave me today off. A month ago, after that mission, you told me to pick a day to relax.”

That’s… true. It was a strenuous mission, and while Dazai made sure to keep you out of the fray, he thought a gift like that would make you feel touched and indebted to him. Annoyingly, he’d nearly forgotten, since Dazai had planned on reneging at the last minute to trap you with him. For your work ethtic, of course.

A pout graces his lips, unhappy at your disappearance from his side. And that he had no rebuttal to it. “Well, I still need you. I made dinner reservations for two accidentally, and the restaurant is rather strict. You need to come with. The meal will be comped, of course."

“Sir, I don’t— “

“Don’t want your job?” His eyes narrow, pout vanishing immediately. You had to go along with it. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, over something as silly as a nice dinner.”

“...Of course, sir.” You tug on the strings of your hoodie, wanting to emphasize that you aren't exactly dressed for something 'nice.' "What time am I expected?"

Dazai has to stop himself from swooning. How adorable. Well, it’s not you that’s adorable, of course. It’s the juxtaposition of such n oversized hoodie on you that he finds adorable, not you yourself. Definitely. “We can leave now, actually. Get changed, please. I wouldn't say there's a dress code, but it's not a 'hoodie' establishment."

Rather than lashing out at him for the snide comment, you choose to bite your tongue and head into your bedroom.

Exhausted was too light a word to describe how you felt. Donned in a 'nice' outfit that was rather uncomfortable, you stood outside in the cold air and harsh breeze as Dazai suggested to the host to let him in. This bastard didn't have reservations for one, much less two.

After the manager is called over and recognizes Dazai, you're quickly ushered in beside him. Dazai pulls out a seat at a secluded table in the back, gesturing for you to sit. "Come."

Without a second thought, you sit in the very seat he'd pulled out, stifling a yawn as he pushes you in. You’re Dazai's best employee - he must keep you close at all times. Which is why he takes advantage of your position as his subordinate to orders you waste your day off in a fancy restaurant across from him. If you want time off of work, you’ll have to spend it with him - just so he can keep an eye on you, of course.

301 notes · View notes

strawbxrryneptune · 8 months

Text

College BKG <3 (enemies to lovers ish)

unedited, lowkey rushed at the end cause im exhausted but at least i posted something after like a year teehee

@miggiisdumb

You walk into the lecture hall a couple minutes early, dragging your sleep deprived friend along with you.

“I genuinely don't understand why we have to get to class so early. The professor isn't even here yet."

You huff at her complaint, pulling her towards the front where you always sit.

"I just want to keep my seat.”

Before she can reply, you cut her off.

“Yes, I know, I’ve been sitting in the same place the whole semester and no one’s taken my seat, but there’s still the risk. Remember when Bakugou fucking took it last week and wouldn’t stop being smug about it?”

Slipping into the second row, she sits on your left, sighing heavily.

"Honestly, the little petty battle you have with him is getting old babe, just fuck him at this point."

You laugh, resting your head in your hands as you stare at your friend.

"Excuse me?"

She scoffs in your face, obviously too tired for your conversation.

"Listen, we all grew up together, anyone who went to UA can agree that you both have hard ons for each other, but you’re too busy arguing to see it.”

You sigh dramatically, flopping back in your seat.

“He’s an asshole-”

"An asshole you wanna fuck.”

You swipe at her, and she laughs before pushing at your arm.

“Look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t want to fuck him.”

“...Okay, he’s kind of hot-”

“So fuck-”

“-no, he’s so annoying!”

She gives you a look then sighs,

“Yes, yes he is.”

You both laugh, your mind wandering elsewhere for a bit before she taps your arm and nods her head behind you, wiggling her eyebrows. You hum, turning to see none other than Bakugo Katsuki himself. He’s walking towards your aisle, plopping down into a seat behind you and putting his bag down next to him. He’s wearing a black sweater draped over black pants, hair fluffy but still somehow spiky looking, and a smoky, almost woodsy scent wafting from him.

Bakugou meets your eyes, and the intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist. He raises an eyebrow at you, lips curving up to conceal a smirk. You roll your eyes and turn back around, annoyed that he caught you staring. Your friend holds back a laugh next to you and you pointedly ignore her, willing the professor to start the lecture already.

Before you can get fully lost in thought, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn your head and almost hit your forehead against Bakugou’s.

“Jesus, have you ever heard of personal space?”

He ignores your question and squints at the small table in front of you.

“You got an extra pencil?”

You stare at him, then look around to the other people in his row.

“Why are you asking me? There's like 5 other people in your sectio-”

“Do you have another fuckin’ pencil or not, Brat?”

You huff and shake your head no. You definitely have another pencil, but you're not giving it to his rude ass. He slides his eyes from your face to the bright pink pencil case on your table, full to the brim with pencils and highlighters.

“Alright.”

You give him another roll of your eyes and go to turn around, but he stops you by leaning over your shoulder and snatching the pencil you were currently using off of your table, retracting back and sitting in his seat. You're pissed, but you can't even bring yourself to turn around because holy shit were his arms always that muscular? And did they always have those veins running through them all the way to his big hands? And fuck when he bent over you his gold chain came out of his shirt a little and it made you think how it would look dangling over you while he fucked the breath out of you. You take a quick breath and dig through your pencil case, taking a pen out and focusing on the smart board at the front of the class. The professor finally starts talking and you welcome the distraction, taking your notebook out to start taking notes.

Once it hit the end of your class, you closed your notebook and let out a sigh, thankful to be done for the day. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and this time you just give Bakugou a side eye when he slides his face close to yours and plops the pencil back on your desk.

“Thanks.”

“Dunno why you’re acting nice like you didn’t steal from me but you’re welcome.”

His face comes into view, and even though you aren’t looking directly at him, you can see his eyes drilling holes into the side of your face.

“Don’t give me shit as if you didn’t lie to me.”

You scoff and fully turn, almost nose to nose with him.

“Why would I want to give you a pencil when you’re such a dick?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes darken in a way that makes your stomach turn.

“You wanna repeat that?”

You don't want to repeat it, actually, but you’re not about to back down and pissing him off is too fun, so you get closer.

“I said, why would I want to give you a pencil when you’re. a. dick.”

He gives you a sadistic smile and closes the already small distance between you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“If you want dick so bad I can give it to you, you don't gotta call me one Sweetheart.”

Your face heats up and your eyes dart around the room, relief flooding your chest when you realize everyone cleared out of the lecture hall except for some girl who was closing her laptop and shoving her things into her bag.

You turn back to him and step back, grabbing your notebook and pencil case and putting it into your bag.

“Please, I’d get more satisfaction from a metal pipe than your dick. You can’t handle this.”

He grabs your wrist, and when you turn back around he’s in your face again, this time staring at your lips with dark eyes.

“You wanna bet?”

You look around again, watching that last girl walk out the door. Fuck it, if the dick is bad or you embarass yourself you still have time to drop the class.

With that in mind, you shake your wrist free from his grip and lean in to kiss him, sighing softly when he kisses back because his lips are so soft. He brings a strong hand to your jaw and tilts your head, kissing you deeper. You make out for a bit before you start to become aware of the awkward position you’re both in, straining to kiss each other over the seats of the hall. He seems to have the same thought, and he brings his hands down to your waist before pausing and pulling away.

“Can I touch you?”

You think it's a bit silly for him to ask you at this point, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Yes.”

You say it breathily, and he gives you a crooked smile before grabbing your waist and whispering, “Jump” against your mouth. You do as he says and he effortlessly lifts you up over the seats and into his arms, hands moving to cup your ass. He continues to kiss you and you start to feel yourself getting hot, moving your hips against his stomach to alleviate some of the tension. He squeezes your ass and moves to sit down, placing you on the ground before turning you around and making you sit on his lap with your back to him. He leans forward to kiss your neck while bringing a veiny hand up to lightly choke you, not applying that much pressure but still making your head spin.

“Grind on me.”

“Ask nicely, Bakugou.”

He chuckles and gives you a sharp bite on the side of your neck, making your hips jolt against him.

“There you go, good girl.”

You want to tell him off, but you can feel his dick through his pants and you want to feel more. Biting your lip, you grind against him slowly, picking up the pace gradually and forcing moans out of the both of you.

“Fuck, Bakugou take your pants off i wanna feel you.”

“Ask nicely, brat.”

You huff and turn to try and undo his pants, but he stops you.

“I said, ask nicely. You're not gettin’ shit actin all prissy.”

“...fine. Please take off your pants so I can sit on your cock, Bakugou.”

He hums and gives you another murmur of “good girl” before tapping your hips to get you up again, shimmying his pants to his knees and taking his dick out. He reaches over and takes your bottoms and panties off, rubbing your hips before reaching around and starting to rub soft circles into your clit, causing you to let out a small moan. He pulls you closer and continues to pleasure you, teasing you and pulling at your clit occasionally while slipping his hand into your shirt and tweaking a nipple. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, and you start to move your hips along with his hand. He groans against you as he feels you getting slick, taking his hand away quickly to slide your wetness along his dick. He uses one hand to pump himself while sliding one, two, three thick fingers into you, curving them and pumping rhythmically. He whispers in your ear about how soft you are, how beautiful and wet and perfect your pussy is, and you just can’t stop gushing on his fingers. You start to feel your orgasm coming up, and you stop his fingers.

”Fuck me, Bakugou, please.”

He moans at the desperate tone of your voice, bringing you further back and sliding his cock along your pussy, rubbing the tip against your clit and making your legs shake. You whine and reach back, wrapping your hand around his and guiding him inside you, gasping at the stretch. He takes it slow, and once you give him a whimper and a nod he starts to thrust into you, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. He fucks you good, and you start to feel your legs shake and your vision blur as he hits that spot over and over and over again until you feel him consume you and you’re cumming just like that, back arched and eyes shut, moaning loud. He moans along with you, slamming his hips into you through the squeezing of your pussy. He slows down his thrusts to give you time to calm down, and you lean back and moan in his ear, squeezing him some more. He groans and pulls you off of him, cumming onto your ass.

You both take a moment to calm down, getting dressed in slightly awkward silence as you both grab your shit. You check your phone quickly and hold back a laugh when you see a text from your friend telling you she left in hopes of you getting dicked down. Little did she fucking know.

#neptunewrites🪐#bakugo smut #bakugou thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #neptunetalks🪐

545 notes · View notes

her-satanic-wiles · 2 months

Text

Bejewelled

Papa Emeritus II x Reader

It’s Papa Secondo’s birthday, and after spending the whole day working, he just wants to relax. But how can he when his favourite Sister of Sin is being a bad girl in front of everyone?

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by @inkstainedrat

Words: 5.6k.

Reading Time: 22 min.

Warnings: anal play, begging, breeding degradation, cock warming, creampie, dubcon, fingering, frottage, free use, groping, hair pulling, mentions of cunnilingus, mentions of fellatio, pain kink, PIV sex, positive degradation, praise, rough sex, spanking, spit as lube, underprepared, unprotected sex (Embrace safety - enjoy it greatly), vaginal sex,

Taglist: @inkstainedrat @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @socksandcr0cs @dio-niisio @duskspring @foxybouquet @likeloversentwined

Thank you to @da-rulah, @angellayercake and @tasty-ribz for workshopping some of these ideas with me and getting me on track!

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You settled into your space at the meeting table, notepad opened to the next available page and date written at the top of it in neat handwriting. You had taken on a more secretarial role for the Ministry, providing the reigning Papa with a helping hand as he went about his daily schedule. The other clergy members were already sat and settled like you, cardinal robes of black and red alternating the seats like chess pieces on a board, broken occasionally by the odd sibling of sin who’d, like you, joined to either take notes for their respective bosses, or provide insight on the general running of the Ministry where the upper clergy couldn’t assist. In short, everyone was ready and waiting, conversations slipping past your ears as certain cardinals spoke over you, not to you. But they soon silenced themselves when the door opened and Papa Emeritus II walked through the doors.

Papa Secondo, despite being a softhearted, kind man, oozed an intimidating aura that put men in their place just by his presence alone. Papa Secondo was not a man to be trifled with, played with, or undermined in any way. His word was law, even among his brothers, one of which outranked him in both age and experience. He took no shit, dished out as much as he could, and ultimately threw his weight around in a respectable, yet authoritative way. Just the mere look of his scowl would have your thighs clenching, and heat pooling between your legs - and you weren’t the only one affected by this.

Papa Secondo’s personality was much different to that of his brothers. Before he met you, he would almost never seek a woman out, he’d rarely approach her, rarely proposition her - in fear of making her uncomfortable mostly, but he also didn’t want to blend in with the other men in the Ministry, his younger brother included, who would approach and whine and beg for the ladies to spread their legs and invite him in willingly. Besides, there was something inside him that loved being chased rather than doing the chasing. The idea that a beautiful woman would want him so much, she’d run after him and coyly ask if he’d give her some company later on. That a beautiful woman would want him so much, that she’d face the fear of rejection in front of her friends and potentially embarrass herself, just to get the opportunity to hold him. He’d never approach a woman, but he’d also never reject one either. And, as he entered the room, your eyes darted to all the other sisters who were equally as squirmy as you, the mere proximity being too much for you all to handle.

It always made you feel smug knowing he had such an affect on the rest of the clergy, but would always come back to you no matter what.

Men feared him. Women wanted him. Somehow, the perfect man did exist, and he wore black, glitter paints and silenced a room just by opening a door.

“Buon pomeriggio.” He said, his deep voice quiet yet commanding. He kept his eyes straight in front of him as he entered the room, not bothering to spare a glance to his colleagues until he’d approached his seat at the head of the table and directly opposite you. You were the first person his mismatched eyes had landed on, reminding you that to him, you were the most important person in the room despite your low ranking among his peers. Once he’d registered your existence, he sat down and situated himself comfortably, gloved hands immediately opening his own folder to pull out the important documents for the meeting. Once he’d personally acknowledged everyone else in the room, he cleared his throat and began.

“Ora, we have many things on the agenda today, so I would like to start immediately, by Sathanas and the mother, Lilith, we thank and worship thee as we do ourselves. Nema.”

“Nema.” Came the chorus of the clergy.

“Cardinale Zhang,” he looked towards the man and you watched as Cardinal Zhang startled at the sudden attention. Papa Secondo noticed, and despite his face being emotionless and stoic, a flicker of amusement passed across his eyes, feeding on the Cardinal’s fear. “You have been visiting universities to de-stigmatise the Faith. Update me, how is that going?”

Cardinal Zhang swallowed and cleared his throat doing his best to hide his nerves. He failed, obviously. He began talking, detailing his efforts across the Atlantic in America and how he’d shown up for each of the universities along the East Coast, hoping to break through to the youth. But as a lot of that part of America were staunch ‘Red States’ and Christians, he was met with a lot of resistance.

Secondo, somewhat surprisingly, was understanding with his response. For once, he didn’t criticise the Cardinal’s failure, or what he deemed as such, rather the country’s unwillingness to be open to change. He quickly followed up that comment with another about Salem, and how they were always welcomed with open arms there thanks to the work of previous clergy members who’d moved to set up temples and places of worship.

He then moved on quickly to the next outreach programme, opening the Ministry doors once a month for visitors and tours of the historical building they all called home - another effort of de-stigmatisation that was under the watchful eyes of Cardinal Garcia. His tone softened when he spoke to her, his eyes never leaving hers as he listened intently to everything she had to say. “We get upwards of one thousand visitors per weekend, Papa.” She confirmed in an upbeat tone. “This is a 20% increase of last year. We’re still keeping our entrance fee at 20 Euros for now,” she handed a sheet of paper to one of the Ghouls standing behind her, who then brought it to Papa Secondo to browse at his leisure, which he did, “Last month alone we received approximately 20,080 Euros. Our finance specialists have worked closely with our social media team, and have worked out we may get roughly a further 500 guests next month, an additional 50% growth, which should tip us over the 20,500 Euro benchmark.”

“Can we quantify the impact of these tours on public perception and understanding of our beliefs and values?” Papa asked, not taking his eyes off the paper.

“I believe so, Papa. On average,” she handed another sheet of paper to a Ghoul, “30% of guests purchase a membership of the Satanic Church, and organise unholy baptisms. 10% actively apply to work and live here full time.”

“How many of these applications get accepted?”

“Recently, with all the moves and changes of our staff, around 50% got accepted last month. But usually, we only select from the most impressive, which is, as accurately as I can describe it, a handful.”

“Are any of our parishes around the world asking for more siblings?”

“I’m not sure, Papa. That’s Cardinal Smith’s jurisdiction.”

Papa’s eyes snapped to Cardinal Smith, another man who shivered beneath the weight of Papa’s gaze. “Well?” He snapped, expectantly, clearly annoyed by Cardinal Smith’s lack of initiative.

“W-we have had a few requests, Your Dark Eminence.” Cardinal Smith stammered.

“And how many siblings have been transferred?”

“Well, n-none.”

Papa’s eyebrows raised. “None? Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! Perché? Why are you not assisting our unholy siblings?”

“We couldn’t spare the people.”

“Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith?”

“N-no, Your Dark Eminence.”

“Then why do you not liaison with Cardinale Garcia and ask her to accept more applicants to send them overseas after their education?”

“I d-didn’t think.”

“Ah. Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. A brain as smooth as yours must be kept shiny and pristine, sì? Cannot be worried about trivial tasks such as thinking.” His tone softened again as he turned to - “Cardinale Garcia, work with Cardinale Stronzo in providing new applicants for our unholy siblings overseas, per favore.” He turned to another woman in the room. “Cardinale Kim, I would also like you to work on this with Cardinale Garcia and Smith to speed up our applicants education and send them out to their respective countries. When you have the time, of course.”

“Of course, Papa.” Cardinal Kim responded.

“I thank Lilith that there are two intelligent women on this job. Sathanas knows we’d fall apart if it was left only to the smooth brained of us in the room.” He cleared his throat. “Sorella ___,” he said addressing you, “are you getting all of this?”

You didn’t look up from your notebook, wrist aching from all the minutes you were taking. “It would help if you spoke slower, Papa.” You replied, insubordinately. You didn’t need to look at Papa to know he was looking at you furiously. “Either that or let me bring my laptop to these meetings.”

“Your laptop is too loud.” He protested through gritted teeth.

You finally looked at him, a small grin on your face. “Then speak slower. Please.”

He sighed and sat back in his seat, staring daggers into your soul. You were usually so sweet and polite to him - his little angioletta who respected him in front of everyone in the vicinity, who behaved so obediently behind closed doors and thanked him for all that he gave you. You were never bratty to your Papa, never rude or obnoxious. “You’re very audacious today, little one.” He commented, his tone commanding your obedience lest you face a punishment.

You persisted, the idea of dealing with your angry Papa later on too delectable to give up now. Papa would often take his frustrations out on you, an agreement between the both of you allowed him to take your consent and use you as he pleased, whenever he pleased. You would always spread your legs willingly for him, or bend yourself over and arch your back just as he liked without him uttering a single word, and depending on the kind of day he’d had, you’d either be worshipped, or bruised by his daily frustrations. You’d told him through bright red cheeks once that you thoroughly enjoyed him using you to deal with his anger, and so, he would have you whenever he felt even a little bit perturbed. But never were you the reason for his anger, not until today. And the way he looked at you now had your hole clenching around nothing, and a need to push him until he snapped and bubbled beneath your surface. You’d started now, you didn’t think you’d be able to stop until he put you back in your place.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be blamed for missing even a drop of your wisdom.”

The rest of the room shifted uncomfortably as the tension became so thick, you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it.

“I’d hold my tongue if I were you, angioletta.”

“But you’re not me, Papa.”

Papa dropped into a foul mood for the rest of the meeting, shooting you angry looks and constantly asking if he was being slow enough for you. But eventually, the meeting came to an end, and Papa pushed everyone out of the room, keeping you in your place. As soon as the door closed, in a harsh tone, he broke the silence. “Angioletta, what was that?”

“What was what, Papa?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me - you know what you did. Sathanas, ___. Since when do you have sass with your Papa, hm? Since when do you show your Papa such disrespect?” He sighed at your lack of answer. He stood and walked over to you, looking down on you as you remained seated in your chair. You weren’t looking up at him, instead keeping your gaze straight on the seat he was sat in before, and he didn’t appreciate this either. With his finger and his thumb, he gently pinched your chin and guided your face to look at him, forcing eye contact with you. “I expect you on your best behaviour tonight, angioletta. Capisce? No sass, no back talk. Just doting on your Papa on his birthday, sì?”

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You said, softly, a smile playing on your lips. Wholesome. Nonsuspect.

“Grazie, amore mio.” He bent down to kiss your forehead then left you alone in the room, seemingly unaware that you’d never actually agreed to anything.

That evening, you dressed in your finest for your Papa, choosing a dress gifted to you by him. It was just something simple, a body con black dress that hugged your curves in all the right ways, paired with a Satanic pentagram harness that he loved to see you in. It was really no effort at all, but your Papa would certainly enjoy you tonight. A feast for his eyes - at least you hoped.

You were one of Secondo’s earliest guests, besides his older brother Papa Primo, arriving at his quarters and knocking on the door before entering. Papa Primo greeted you warmly, and welcomed you in, placing a drink in your hand. You could already smell the dinner coming from Secondo’s private kitchen and felt your stomach growl in hunger. You were so ready for the feast to begin - and for your torture of your Papa to continue. You weren’t just ravenous for the food, especially when you saw him enter the dining room, not wearing his usual robes but still painted in his official paints. His suit was perfectly tailored, cut to each contour of his body, and made from a rich, cold, emerald green. Velvet. Accompanied by a deep green tie and his favourite black-painted fingernails. In his robes he was divine. In a suit? You were feral.

As soon he saw you, you watched as his glittery eyes darkened, and his chest reflected a deep sigh. The second he was beside you, his hands grasped onto your hips and pulled you into him, lips attaching to your neck. He didn’t care that he already had other guests - he didn’t care that he may be smudging his paints. He was too intoxicated by you to do anything other than dig his fingers into the meat of your flesh and inhale your seductive perfume, bewitching him beyond belief. He was ready to drop to his knees and worship you there and then, except you pushed him away.

“I haven’t forgotten how you spoke to me earlier, Papa.” You chided, keeping your voice as level as you could and holding back your giggles when his expression changed.

“Angioletta,” he practically whined, “you promised.”

“No,” you poked his chest, “you laid down the law. I never told you I’d follow it.”

“You want to make me suffer all night, hm? Embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“I never want to embarrass you, Papa. I’d like an apology.”

He frowned. “For what?”

You sighed. “Use that big, wrinkly brain of yours and think.” And with that, you walked away. In truth he had nothing to apologise for and you both knew it. But you enjoyed watching him stew away in his mind, greeting and welcoming guests and trying to maintain a semblance of composure. You were teetering on the line between enjoyment and cruelty, though. And you’d need to end this quickly so as not to actually spoil his birthday.

Secondo’s quarters had never been so lively, but even then, they were lively by Secondo’s standards. To celebrate his birthday, all of the people closest to him had gathered in his chambers, crowded around his long dining table (that he mostly used for work), and feasted on the delightful Italian delicacies hand crafted by the Ministry’s chefs, whom you’d paid extra to cook for everyone for the evening. Amidst the clinking of glasses filled with the Ministry’s own wine, and the aroma of garlic-infused dishes wafting through the air, the place was abuzz with laughter and conversation, but your attention was solely fixed on one man – Papa Secondo himself.

He sat beside you at the head of the table, his natural scowl creasing his glabella as he looked upon his guests and listened to their conversations, responding only when he needed to, but enjoying the atmosphere, nonetheless. His paints were perfectly worn, not a single line bent or crooked, or even smudged with the wine he’d drunk, or the food he’d so gracefully placed into his mouth as though he were the epitome of sophistication - which, to be fair, he was. His Roman nose making his profile so intoxicating, so powerful, you found yourself staring at him, drinking in the love of your life and appreciating him silently for the work of art he was.

Secondo cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the room as he prepared to address his guests. “My dear friends, I want to take this moment to express my gratitude for your presence here tonight,” he began, his voice carrying authority and warmth. “Your loyalty and support mean more to me than you can imagine.”

You couldn’t resist interjecting with a sassy remark. “Oh, how touching, Papa,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I almost believe you mean it.”

The room fell into a momentary silence as everyone turned their attention to the unexpected exchange between you both. Secondo’s expression darkened, his jaw tensing as he turned to face you.

“Sorella,” he said through gritted teeth, his tone a warning.

But you refused to back down, your gaze challenging. “What, Papa? Can’t handle a little honesty?” You retorted, your voice edged with defiance. You squirmed in your seat under the heat of his gaze, the unbridled anger that oozed off him like peach juice dripping down one’s chin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you watched him become more and more enraged at your attitude, and you tried so hard not to let your enjoyment show.

Secondo’s eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing his features before he regained his composure. “I expect respect in my presence, Sorella,” he replied, his voice low and controlled.

You took a sip of your wine and set your glass down. “And yet, you don’t always deserve it.”

“My room. Now.” He all but hissed. His grip on his glass was choking, and you could almost see it shattering in his hand from the force. You’d done it. You got him. Now was the time to obey. You stood and made your way to his bedroom as instructed, hearing him excuse you both and urge his guests to continue without him. The part where he was announcing that he was going to scold you for your behaviour was missing, but certainly implied, and within a few seconds you heard him chase after you and the guests murmuring in the background, only to be blocked by him slamming the door shut.

“What the fuck was that, hm?” He growled, his hand coming up to your hair and pulling it at the roots, making you look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Papa!”

“Sorry? Amore mio, it’s a little late for that, do you not think? Embarrassing me in front of everyone.”

You laughed.

“Che cos’è questo? Laughing at your Papa?” He stopped, a realisation dawning on him. “Ah. I see how it is. My angioletta is giving into sin tonight? Becoming a whore to anger her Papa.” He released you and gestured to the bed. “Hands on the bed. Now, amore.” You obeyed him for the first time that day, resting your hands on the bed and bending at the waist, exposing your ass to him. You knew what was coming, your core clenching in anticipation of feeling his hand come down on you at full force. You arched your back as much as you could, allowing your ass to pop for him, and hearing him groan in appreciation when you did.

“You wanted to play with your Papa,” he said coming up behind you, “so let’s play, hm?”

His hand came down on your left ass cheek, the sting you enjoyed so much muffled by layer of fabric still (barely) covering your body. The first hit was gentle, barely stinging at all. As angry as Secondo was, he still took his time with you, making sure he didn’t hurt you too much and too quickly. He mirrored this on your right cheek, back to your left, back to your right. Each hit gradually landed harder and harder, and you needed to bury your face into his sheets to hide your cries lest his guests hear what was happening. With each slap, your body jumped in response, as if it was shocked to receive the hits your mind knew was coming. You knew you were getting redder with each slap, which would only egg Secondo on more when he saw it for himself.

He lifted your dress up, exposing your black panties fully and bunching the hem around your waist, and, as predicted, groaned at the sight of you. Secondo was an artist, and you were always his favourite canvas. He began to slap your bare cheeks, revelling in the deep red that was forming on your skin, relishing in the dampened moans coming from you. “This is no punishment for you at all, is it?” He commented, punctuating his sentence with more slaps, now using both of his hands. “You love it when your Papa hits you like this, don’t you?” He slapped you much harder when you didn’t answer. “Do not be rude, angioletta.”

“Yes, Papa!” You responded, your voice coming out as a moan. “I love it!”

“I bet you’ve soaked through these slutty little panties, haven’t you?” He moved his left hand to the gusset of your panties, using his four fingers to rub against your cunt and his thumb rested against your asshole as an anchor.

Usually, he’d be met with your soft flesh and twitching hole, and would tease it over your panties, too, just to drive you wild. But today, his thumb met with something hard, and him putting pressure there caused you to moan out loud. “Che cazzo?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the ridges. His hand, damp from the juices that had soaked your panties, came up to the waistband and roughly pulled them off you, hissing at the sight of him. Buried deep inside your twitching hole, was a butt plug, with an emerald resin gem sitting atop the metal base. “Puttana.” Though his words were degrading, the tone in which he said them was appreciative. He loved this little surprise, his cock growing harder and harder beneath his velvet slacks and begging to bury itself into one of your holes. “How long have you been wearing this?”

“All da-ay!” Your voice hiccuped when you felt his fingers hook around the base and jiggle it.

“No wonder you’ve been acting like a bitch today, amore. You’ve been in heat all day, hm? Did you want me to bend you over the table in the meeting room? Is that why you’ve been provoking me all day?”

“Y-yes, Papa. Want… wanted you to f-fuck me all day! Shit.”

“Wanted your Papa to ruin your holes, hm?”

“Yesss!”

He landed another hard spank on your right cheek with his right hand, much harder than the others. That, coupled with the way he was still playing with the plug, caused a moan to escape your lips, much louder than the others.

You heard him play with his belt, unbuckling it and then the buttons of his slacks, before you finally heard the zipper undo. “Hands and knees, ass in the air.” He ordered. You climbed fully onto the mattress, feeling his hand come down on you more and more as you got situated for him. “Gonna put this fuckhole to good use.”

You felt his girth rub against your folds, getting wetter with your slick with each movement. When he stopped and pulled away, you chanced a glance behind you and watched what he was doing, cunt clenching when you saw his head bowed, a thick glob of spit falling from his mouth and landing on his cock. He pumped himself a few times, spreading the saliva over his entire length before spitting again and repeating until he deemed himself wet enough. He plunged two of his fingers inside you, pumping only a few times to get you stretched out a little more before lining himself up with your hole.

You heard him chuckle darkly behind you. “I’m gonna enjoy this - but you won’t.”

That was all the warning he gave you before he pushed inside you, his considerable thickness stretching you out beyond compare. Usually he’d prepare you more, make you cum for him all over his tongue before he even considered fucking you with his cock. But not tonight. He didn’t have the time nor the will to. This was meant to be a punishment, after all. Prepared or not, you adored the initial stretch every single time he slid into you. He always burned so deliciously, but sometimes there was a hint of pain that sent shivers down your spine and had your toes curling and fingers digging into whatever surface you were being fucked on.

Secondo took his time bottoming out, enjoying watching your body tense below him from the pain of it, and smiling at your cunt clenching down on him. “There we go.” He said, gripping onto your ass cheeks as he bottomed out inside you, fingers rubbing over your raw flesh and causing a bigger sting to wash over you. He used your body as leverage to help him slam into you, setting a rough pace right away and knocking the wind out of you. He pulled gutteral moans out of you, deep, animalistic grunts that you had no control over as he fucked into you like a madman finally getting his fix.

The sound of your cunt taking him back in over and over again was so loud, you were sure his guests could hear you from the other room. It made Secondo want to bite you, sink his teeth into you like an apple, and feel your juices coat his mouth while he licked and sucked at your core. But he was pretending that this was a punishment for you - he couldn’t consciously do something that would make you cum. Well, maybe a finger or so later on. For now, you were his to fuck around with, and he could hear and feel just how much you enjoyed it.

“You’re so fucked up for liking this, amore.” He taunted, releasing grunts and growls of his own. “A pain slut for her Papa. Cazzo!”

He pushed your hips down, making you lie flat on your stomach, legs dangling off the edge and making you feel helpless below him. He put his entire weight on your body as he railed you into the mattress, rough, quick thrusts making your body bounce and your ass ricochet off his own hips.

“I don’t like hurting you, angioletta.” A growl ripped from his throat. “But you need to learn how to respect your Papa. Apologise for making me do this to you.”

“I- I’m so…rry, Papa-ah!”

“Brava ragazza.”

Every time you made a sound, he landed another hit on your ass, making you redder and rawer. He loved it - but equally, so did you. Even on the days when he was taking his anger out on you, he wouldn’t often be this rough. He wouldn’t laugh at your cries, or push into you without taking his time with you first. Each thrust drove you more and more insane, degraded you more and more to the point where you felt like nothing but his own, personal fuck toy. His own whore who spread her legs so willingly, she became a desperate slut for her master.

He pulled at the plug again, laughing when you jumped. “So much tighter with this thing in your ass.”

“Papa - it… it’s t-too much!”

“You should have respected your Papa, then maybe he’d treat you delicately, hm?”

“Papa, please!”

“You can take it, can’t you?”

He was met with a loud moan.

“Can’t you, puttanella?”

“Y-yes!”

“Of course you can. Only sluts can take a cock this big.”

You forced your hand in between your body and the mattress and found your clit, rubbing at it while Secondo pounded into you. It was a struggle, and made Secondo laugh at you as you tried. He put more weight onto your body to make it more difficult for you, but you were able to get there eventually and furiously play with that bundle of nerves and work yourself to the edge.

“I love looking at you like this.” He said suddenly, watching your arm move as you rubbed faster and faster. You looked so desperate for him. So needy. “You gonna cum for me?” He asked as he felt you getting tighter for him, the telltale signs making themselves present. “You gonna cum all over Papa’s cock like a whore?”

“Yes, Pa-pa!”

“Merda! Beg for it.”

“I n-need to cum s-oh bad Papa! Please! Pl-please let me cum on your f-fat cock.”

“Oh, just like that, brava ragazza. It’s okay, you can let go.”

Secondo could feel you getting tighter for him, working yourself closer and closer to an orgasm as he took you for his own pleasure, and for some of yours. He should pull out soon, he knew he should, but you were so tight for him in this position, so wet and pliant. He couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out and cum on your body. One particularly rough thrust had you finally tumbling over the edge, face contorting in beautiful agony as you came over him, creaming on his cock and screaming silently into the mattress. He didn’t let up as you came, instead, he used your body tensing as an excuse to go just a little harder, making your orgasm more intense the longer it went on.

Your orgasm had Secondo teetering on the edge himself, staving off his own orgasm to ensure yours felt good. But once he was sure you’d finished, he began to pull out of you, finally working the courage to escape from your clutches. It wasn’t until he felt your heels in his ass, where your legs had bent backwards to keep him there, he realised you wanted his cum inside you just as much as he did.

“Please, Papa!” You begged quietly, lifting your head off the sheets and turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Give it to me. I want your cum inside me so fucking bad. Please!”

“Yeah, amore? You want me to knock you up, is that it? So desperate for her Papa’s cum she wants him to breed her like a bitch. Been in heat all day, still acting like a fucking animal.”

“Give it to me, Papa! Cum deep inside me, please!”

“Okay, angioletta. Papa will give you what you want.” He pushed himself deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Gonna fuck a baby into you, you ready?”

“Yes! Yes, Papa, like that!”

“Cazzo!” A string of expletives followed as you talked him through it, continuing to beg him for his seed while he pumped it deep inside you. He gripped hold of you, your skin and fat pinched tightly under his strong, masculine hands as he grasped onto you to keep him grounded while he reached nirvana. He bent forward more, his forehead rubbing against your shoulder blades and paints transferring onto the fabric of your dress, but you didn’t care about that, enjoying the feeling of his erratic thrusts as he fucked his cum into your sensitive heat until he eventually rolled to a stop, laboured breaths ringing in your ear despite his mouth being so far away.

“Sathanas, ___.” He groaned, keeping his full weight on your body, too exhausted to move. “Mi farai morire.” You felt his lips kiss your shoulder blades, the dull feeling bringing warmth and comfort to your adrenaline-filled body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, equally as exhausted as him.

“No.” He replied with a giggle, which you echoed. “I can’t move anymore.”

“That’s okay, we can wait here for as long as you need.”

“The guests, amore mio.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

He groaned. “I don’t have the strength.”

You laughed at his joke.

Somewhere inside him, he found the strength to pull out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. He rolled off you, and lay on his back, allowing his body to flop into any position it deemed comfortable. You didn’t know how he did that, you could barely keep your eyes open.

He looked at you before rushing to the bathroom to get a damp cloth to clean you up, gently wiping at your sensitive centre to try and help you. “I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

“Nothing I didn’t want, Papa.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

He placed the washcloth on the bedside table and pulled you into his arms, finally kissing your lips for the first time.

“Happy birthday, Papa.” You whispered.

Before he could respond, a knock at the door sounded gently, pulling your attention to it. “Fratello?” Cardinal Terzo’s voice sounded from the other side. “Now that you two have finished fucking, we should let you know we’re all gonna go.”

You hid your face in embarrassment despite the fact the only person who could see you was Secondo, who was laughing at your reaction.

“See you later, fratellino.”

“Later, sluts!”

There was a silence for a little while before Secondo heard the sound of your breathing mellowing out, realising then you’d fallen asleep before you both had chance to clean up properly. But that was okay, he could treat you like a queen in the morning. For now, you both needed rest.

Translations:

Buon pomeriggio - Good afternoon.

Ora - Now.

Questo è un cazzo di scherzo assoluto! - This is an absolute fucking joke!

Perché? - Why?

Sei stupido, Cardinale Smith? - Are you stupid, Cardinal Smith?

Non mi sorprende, Cardinale. - That does not surprise me, Cardinal.

Angioletta - Little angel.

Capisce? - Do you understand?

Grazie, amore mio. - Thank you, my love.

Che cos’è questo? - What’s this?

Che cazzo? - What the fuck?

Puttana. - Whore.

Brava ragazza. - Good girl.

Mi farai morire. - You’re gonna kill me.

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

155 notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 10 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #if I should stay #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #el hopper #Robin Buckley #platonic stobin #steve and el #el just wants to help #Eddie’s doing his best not to freak out every other second #he’s trying yall #starambles

564 notes · View notes

withahappyrefrain · 1 year

Note

So I've thought a lot about how big an asshole jake would be if he introduced bob to his soulmate but I've only just considered how much would change if bob introduced jake to his... checkmate bagman

I love this idea so much. This can also be seen as a follow up to He's All That!

"All I'm saying, Baby on Board," Jake continued as he racked up the pool balls, "Is that it's the least you can do, considering that if it weren't for me, you'd still be single."

"And all I'm saying bagman is thanks again for your help and you'll get a shoutout in the ceremony," Bob sighed before taking another sip of his water. With the way Jake was bothering him, he was debating switching to beer.

"Jacob Floyd has a great ring to it and would be a wonderful way to honor the man responsible for your future children."

"All you did was tell her his name and that Bob was single," Mickey retorted, shaking his head as he grabbed a nearby pool stick.

"Summarizing what I did as merely telling her his name is insulting beyond belief. I sold Bob to Luna. Without me, she wouldn't have gone looking for him," Jake scoffed.

Unfortunately the woman of the hour was not here to confirm or deny if Jake was telling the truth or making up shit as he went along.

"And without us, he wouldn't have had those three shots to give him enough courage to continue talking to her," Bradley countered.

"Nor would I had bumped into her because you took my glasses," Bob muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Besides, Bradley Floyd sounds way better," He remarked, ignoring the scoff from Jake.

"Wait, why do you get a kid named after you?" Mickey chimed in.

"All I'm saying, is that you'd much rather start your kid off right by giving them my name than Bradshaw's."

"Why, you little-"

"Bob has to propose to her first before there are any kids to name!" Phoenix chimed in, pressing her beer bottle to her temple, hoping it would somehow take her away from all these idiots.

"He's working on it!" Bob had revealed earlier that he finally picked up the ring for her, which was what prompted this whole conversation.

"Working on what?" A sweet, lithe voice promptly caused everyone to shut up. Everyone, except Bob ironically.

"Hey darlin'! Where's your friend?" Bob asked before placing a kiss on his girlfriend's cheek.

"She's on her way! I was going to wait outside for her, but wanted to say hi first," She paused, a sweet smile overtaking her face, "Hi Robby."

"Hi Luna," Bob giggled before planting a kiss on her lips that was so sweet, the nearby squad groaned.

"They're so stupidly cute," Phoenix muttered.

"I'm going to go wait for her," Luna was about to turn when she stopped, her eyes meeting Jake's, "You ready Bagman?"

Jake scoffed to cover his confusion, "Ready for what?"

She giggled, the bridge of her nose creasing as she smiled, making it impossible to be annoyed with her, "To meet your future wife!"

And with that she left, practically skipping out of the bar.

"Floyd, what the hell is she talking about?" Jake asked, turning his full attention to the bespectacled WSO, one had an uncharacteristic smirk on his face.

"We're not going to name our kid after you. Instead, we're going to introduce you to your future wife." Bob was pretty confident for once, not at all shaken by having all eyes on him.

"I'm sorry?" was all Jake could find himself saying.

"Don't worry Bagman, you'll love her. She's perfect for you."

"Floyd, no offense-"

"Offense already taken."

"But your idea of the perfect woman is a bit different from mine."

It wasn't. In fact, it was pretty similar. But Bob knew Jake wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

"Yeah Bob, you sure this girl is right for Hangman?" Phoenix lowered her voice, "You really want to subject her to Bagman? How bad is she?"

"She's perfect for Bagman," Bob assured her, not that if convinced Nat-or anyone else. Certainly not Jake.

"Whatever baby on board," Jake scoffed, "Just know that when she comes crying to you, all heartbroken that she's not....."

His voice trailed off as his eyes fully took in the sight of the sun dress-clad figure that was now next to Luna at the bar.

"She's not the what?" Javy asked, nudging Jake.

Javy received no response, as Jake was too mesmerized by how fucking adorable you were when you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

He could see that you were listening to Luna intently as she pointed out people in the dagger squad.

When your eyes met his, Jake swore he could feel the Earth stop moving.

"The future Mrs. Seresin," He said with a dreamy sigh, causing Bradley and Natasha to wonder if somehow an alien had taken over his body. Because that would make more sense the other alternative.

Jake all but shoved the pool stick to Javy, his eyes focused on you. The smile and small wave you sent his way caused Jake to nearly trip over his feet.

"Where the hell are you going, the game isn't finished," Mickey called out to no avail.

"I'm going to meet my future wife," Jake said, annoyed that he even had to explain it because wasn't it obvious?

The squad watched in wonder (except for Bob, who still had a smug look on his face) as Jake made his way over to you and Luna.

"Bob, this girl seems sweet. You sure you want to subject her to Bagman?" Bradley asked, legitimate concern in his eyes.

Bob shrugged, "She teaches seventh grade. She'll be able to put Bagman in his place just fine. See?"

The group watched as you handed Jake several bottles of beer to hold. Jake was more than happy to oblige, staring at you with what could only be described as heart eyes.

Luna skipped ahead, giving the squad a thumbs up as she sat down next to Bob.

"How's it going darlin'?" Bob asked before pressing a light but sweet kiss to her cheek.

"Bagman tried to kiss her on the wrist and she lectured him about how it's not the 1950s," Luna giggled while everyone else stared at her in shock.

Everyone except for Bob.

"He apologized profusely. That's also why he offered to carry the drinks."

"Has he ever held anyone's drinks besides his own?" Mickey asked.

"Better question, has he ever apologized within five minutes of offending someone?" Bradley countered.

"He sure as fuck hasn't," Natasha's eyes widened at the sight of Jake fucking Seresin offering the crook of his arm to you. After staring at the gesture long enough to make him sweat, you hooked your arm around his, letting him lead you back to everyone.

"Bob, what the fuck did you do?" Reuben asked.

"He just needed someone to soften the edges!" Luna explained. Natasha was about to scoff at the mere idea of Hangman being soft.

But then she saw how gentle Jake was when he offered you his stool and handed you a beer. The smile he had on his face was just that, uncharacteristically soft.

Maybe Bob and his lady were onto something.

"Hey Bagman!" Bob called out.

"Yeah?" Jake turned around, trying his best hide his annoyance at Bob interrupting the conversation he was having with you.

"Robert Seresin has a great ring to it."

#my writing #jake seresin x reader #Bob Floyd #jake seresin #Hangman fluff #hangman x you #jake hangman x reader #hangman x y/n #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin

1K notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 6 months

Text

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

✩₊˚.⋆⁺₊✧ Merry Christmas everyone ✩₊˚.⋆⁺₊✧

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reade rWord Count: 7 K Warnings: None. Prompt: Where does your hear lay? Who does it belong to? This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 26: Hooked on a feeling

Thursday, November 25th, 1976

As you walked back to the common room with your friends, Sirius didn’t let go of your hand at all. Remus, who had been the one with the idea, stood rather close to the two of you, and the rest also kept a close eye on you. Especially Peter who seemed to have been altered by the whole situation.

By the time you’d got to the common room you were a lot more relaxed, there was something about walking with your friends that just made you feel instantly better, even if you weren’t saying much. You easily realised how fast Remus had driven the subject of the conversation to something else, being backed up by Sirius who didn’t shut up about the new songs he’d gotten from his cousin Andromeda, it all had helped you order your thoughts better.

Yes, you hadn’t been paying attention to the strength of your spell, and yes, it had been quite strong, enough to push Evan back a couple of metres but not enough to really hurt him, it had probably stung like a bitch, but looking at things from a different perspective, he might have been more pissed because he lost, and because you had helped turn off the fire with your relashio, than he had been hurt by your spell. In fact, even if Seraphina had practically dragged him out of the classroom, he had been walking when he left.

And then you remembered the way he had laughed at your attempts to open the door of the shack and you almost thought he actually deserved it, even if your intention had never been to actually hurt him. And then you remembered Barty, and you knew he’d be absolutely pissed at you which had you shiver and inch just a little closer to Sirius.

He gave you a rather puzzled look, wondering what could have been going on in your mind before squeezing your hand comfortingly.

Eventually, you all ended up in the common room, Remus pulled out the food from his backpack and handed it over to you. They had picked sandwiches, sausages, bacon and a lot of other tasty, meaty treats. You almost laughed, they had noticed that you had been craving meat, and they had gone and picked probably every single thing with it on the meal.

When the girls had gone off to the library together, James, who had been sitting on the rug as he snuck some of the treats from your plate when he thought you weren’t looking, leaned in to ask “How did it go with Ricchie?”

You looked around for a second, making sure there was no one listening in, and responded “he’s on board, he said it’d be hard to convince the headless hunt.”

James smiled “knew you could convince him,” he said as he pulled back “You’re damn good at that.”

“I guess I am,” you smiled. quite pleased with yourself, “Does that mean I’m playing on Sunday?”

James laughed as he shook his head in disbelief “Don’t push your luck Vixi, you might be charming, but it depends on how you know what is looking by then.”

You huffed in response, and let yourself lean back in between Sirius and Remus as you took another sausage and started to munch on it “When will you go get the recipes?” You asked, turning to Remus.

“After dinner,” he said, “you think your talk with Nightshade will be done by then?”

You took a deep breath “I certainly hope it will… Oh, by the way, I found the perfect place to brew the potion…”

“Really, where?” Sirius asked casually.

“There’s a secret room near the Prefect Bathrooms, Richie showed me,” you started “It’s very small, kinda like a map room, with lots of forbidden books hidden in there, I assume Richie was as much of a trouble maker as you lot when he was alive…”

“Kinda like a map room?” he asked again, you had piqued his curiosity.

“You lot?! As if you weren’t included…” mumbled James.

You threw him a wink and turned back to Sirius “Well, it’s got a massive table in the centre, perfect for maps or large parchments and things like that,” you explained, “but I also saw a few potion things on the corner, I mean of course there’s no sink or anything like that, but I’m sure we can make do with what we have, it’s perfect! Completely away from prying eyes too. And you know people barely even cross that hallway anyway…”

“Well I guess you’ll show me your secret room and I’ll show you our secret map,” Remus said with a shrug.

“We’re showing her the map?” Peter asked.

James nodded “Indeed we are little Wormtail, it was an executive decision since she’s now an Honourable Marauder.”

“Wait! Really?” you asked, with a small gasp.

Sirius nodded, wrapping his arm over your shoulder, leaving his hand near your neck so as not to touch your wounded arm and smiled at you “You didn’t know?” he tsked.

You shook your head, “but it’s only natural, isn’t it? You know my secret now,” Remus said calmly.

“Lily does too,” you replied “And she’s not a-“

“And then there’s Vixen,” Peter said matter of factly, cutting you off mid-sentence.

“Aaaaand you’re going to do your first official Marauders Prank tomorrow,” Sirius finished.

“But… this- this feels like… It’s like being knighted or something…”

That got a chuckle from every single one of the boys, James stood up then, taking his wand in his hand, you looked at him puzzled when he extended his arm with his hand and placed it over your shoulder “Lady Vixen…” he started.

“What? Prongs you’re insane!”

“Shut up,” he said simply, and cleared his throat “Lady Vixen,” he repeated the same actions as before “I hereby declare you an honourable member of The Marauders,” he finished.

“As an official member, I ratify the decree,” Remus added.

“I ratify it a second time,” Peter added.

Sirius looked at you with a teasing smile “I don’t know about that…” he started but laughed mid-sentence when he saw the stares from all of his friends “All right… All right… I ratify the decree a third time, Kit’s one of us now.”

James smiled “Settled then, you can now know about the map.”

“Which map?” You asked, curiosity taking the best of you.

“Not yet,” Remus said “She’ll see it in due time.”

“Oh! You’re such a tease!” you said, leaning back in between Remus and Sirius again, crossing your arms over each other with a small pout, which just got Remus to chuckle, you looked way too adorable.

Then the clock chimed in “Dinner time,” Peter said with a smile.

James stood up “Sounds brilliant, I’m famished.”

“You’ve been eating my food since we got here,” you teased. He looked at you in shock, as if he was surprised he hadn’t been as sneaky as he thought he had been. The rest of the boys just laughed.

“No, I haven’t.” James said casually “must have imagined it.”

You just laughed at the seriousness he used to say it “So you’re saying I hallucinated it?”

James nodded “Indeed you have, perhaps we really should take you to Pomfrey.”

“All right Prongs, whatever you say,” you responded.

You separated from the boys when Marlene waved at you to sit right next to her, she wanted to ask you about learning to use confringo, and you spent the rest of the dinner discussing some advanced duelling spells with her, Beth, Lily and Mary had joined in the conversation a little later on and you discovered you all knew some spells the others didn’t.

“We should study them together,” Beth said “Find a quiet place and practice so we become better duelists.” Beth had joined the duelling club a couple of weeks before you had.

“I’d tag along with you girls,” Mary quipped “It’s always useful to know a thing or two about defending yourself, could help me brush up on my curses and hexes for next year’s N.E.W.T.S.”

“It’s a fantastic idea indeed,” Lily said “I say we do it.”

“Really?” You asked her a little surprised.

“Yeah, we could make our own little duelling club,” she said “Seems useful for the times we’re living in.”

Mary’s face turned a little sour. “I’d rather not talk about the times we’re living in.”

You were about to say something else when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you looked up and swallowed, it was Professor Nightshade, “Have you finished your meal?” she asked politely. You nodded in response. “Good, please follow me to my office.”

Lily gave you a worried look but you gave her a smile in return, whatever punishment she was going to give you, it couldn’t be too bad. “I’ll just take something for the way,” you told her, stood up and walked towards the boys, leaning in to grab an apple from the bowl right next to Remus “Where are we regrouping?" you whispered.

"Give me your hand," he said.

You turned to look at Nightshade, she was tapping her feet as she stood near the girls and looked, you swallowed, but instantly did as asked. Remus took your hand and placed a small, crescent moon bead that he took from his pocket, allowing his fingers to linger on your palm for a little too long before he spoke again.

"Keep it with you, we’ll find you."

You frowned, giving him a puzzled look, but turned back at Nightshade who looked like she was losing her temper and you nodded, Remus heard you say something like "Sorry Professor, I was looking for the right one," as you approached her with what he assumed was another one of those charming apologetic smiles of yours.

"You gave her your charm," Sirius said as he saw you go.

"So we can find her after the library," Remus responded, turning back to the other boy, "you ready?"

Sirius smirked "I’m always ready, Moons. But we need to get the cloak first."

"And the map," the other boy added. “Prongs and Wormtail will be working on the escape plan all night, you’ll join them and practise the spells afterwards, right?"

Sirius nodded in return, “You’ll stay with Vixen and prepare the potion,” he then hesitated for a second “Ask her if she’s all right for me?” Remus gave Sirius a frown, and the blue-eyed boy took a deep breath, “She’s always at ease when you’re around, and for some reason, I feel like she would tell you if–”

Remus shook his head “–She wouldn’t.”

“No, but I’m sure, you even told me about that time after practice that-“

“–Pads.” Remus said calmly “She’s not going to tell me shit, not this time.”

“But–“

“-It’s because it was me,” the taller boy explained. “She won’t say shit because I was the one to scratch her, I’m the reason she’s hurt.”

“That’s not fair,” Sirius countered, “You didn’t mean to, she knows it.”

“And that’s exactly why she wouldn’t tell me if she was off,” Remus sighed “She doesn’t want me to feel bad about it, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable by making her lie.” Yeah, Remus knew what it was like to lie to his friends about the way he was feeling, he knew what it was like to feel the need to do it as if not to worry them, he didn’t want you to go through that, especially since he had been the one to hurt you in the first place.

Sirius sighed, leaning against the table, holding his head up with his hands, his beautiful curls cascading around his face and spilling between his fingers. Remus stared, almost enthralled by the beauty of his friend before speaking again.

“She knew, you know?” he said suddenly.

“She knew what?” Sirius asked, pulling his head up to look at Remus straight in the eyes.

“She knew I was a werewolf,” the boy admitted. “When she arrived at the Shack and cranked the door open, she was relieved to see me for a whole of like 60 seconds before she realised how screwed she was.”

“But how?!” the blue-eyed boy asked, confused.

“At first I thought it had been you–“ Remus admitted.

“I would never!”

“I know,” Remus agreed “But you can’t blame me for thinking it a possibility, especially with how close you are to each other.”

“But you should know I would never, especially after the-“

“–I know.” Remus cut him off, a little sharper now, he did not want to talk about the prank.

“Then how did she find out?”

“She guessed it,” Remus said with a tight lip smile, surprise and unbelievability spilling from his voice. Had Sirius not been paying attention to how attractive his friend looked with that smile on his face perhaps he would have realised the way Remus had said it sounded an awful lot like someone who had a crush “She said it was in the infirmary, last full moon.”

Sirius almost winced “After the ring incident…”

“I highly doubt it was just the ring incident,” Remus reassured, “Anyway, my point is… she knew, and she didn’t tell anyone about it. She didn’t ask me, she didn’t ask you. All because she didn’t want to put us in an awkward position.”

Sirius sighed, slumping his shoulders as he did “She’s a considerate idiot.”

Remus laughed and nodded. After a couple of seconds of silence, he tilted his head just a little, effectively getting Sirius’ attention back on him. As much as he hated to admit it, he loved it when Sirius looked at him like that. “Let’s get the cloak then…” he said with a mischievous smile.

“Let’s get the cloak,” Sirius responded with an equally mischievous grin.

You had been the one to enter her office first, Nightshade trailing behind just to shut the door as she entered the room and walked towards her chair. She must have been just as tall as you, regardless, she carried herself in a way that made you feel smaller, almost intimidated, perhaps it had to do with how beautiful she was. You remember feeling like the time you met Walburga a couple of years ago, Nightshade had the same imposing aura, except she carried a hint of peacefulness to her, rather than the unhinged chaos that hid behind Walburga’s eyes.

You swallowed as she continued walking all the way to her desk, she didn’t walk behind it though, she instead leaned back on it, elegance unmatched, “Miss (Y/LN).”

You didn’t say a word, instead, you nodded in acknowledgement, letting her know you were listening even if your voice refused to come out.

“You must know why I brought you here.”

“Because I used a very strong, downright almost-illegal hex on Evan Rosier.”

She laughed, a graceful laugh that you were not expecting to hear “That’s not why you’re here.”

“I’m sorry?! I thought you would– I thought I was here because… if it’s not that, then why?”

“Take a guess,” she said with a playful smile. You weren’t sure if you were intimidated by it or not.

“Because of the classes I missed? I’m sorry about that, it was really something unexpected and I–“

“That’s not it either.”

“Then I– I don’t understand–“

“How’s your shoulder?” She asked casually.

“It’s a lot better,” you said before you turned to look at her in shock. “How did you…”

“You’re not the only one that’s friends with the ghosts darling,” she said. “Come over, let me check it.”

You did as told, unbuttoning your blouse for her to inspect your wound “Is that why I’m here?” you asked as she carefully unrolled the bandage.

“Damocles Belby came to me on Tuesday, knocking on the door very early in the morning,” she started, “he said you had gone to the forbidden forest to get an ingredient for a potion, and that you hadn’t returned when you told him you would,” you winced as her hand graced over one of the injured sections “he told me what he wanted and why he wanted it for. I knew in an instant either Remus had told you about his condition or that you had guessed yourself.”

“You know about–“

“Of course I do. I’m the teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts. I was informed the moment I got here.”

“And Dumbledore just told you?!” you scoffed, sounding a little more offended and angry than you intended.

She chuckled in return, “We go way back,” she said with a small smile “Either way, when you didn’t get to class I started to worry,” she continued “But I went over to check on Remus on the infirmary and he was calm enough, I knew he hadn’t hurt you, or at least that he hadn’t hurt you lethaIIy.”

“If you knew I was hurt, then why did you put me in a duel against Evan?”

“I didn’t think either of you would go as hard as you did on each other,” she admitted “and I wanted to know if you really were hurt.”

“Is that why you placed your hand over my shoulder and helped me up?”

“You almost had me fooled,” she admitted “I would have bought your act had it not been for the reactions of your friends.”

A small smile played on your lips, you were proud.

“You’re a strong one Miss (Y/LN),” she said as she inspected the wound “Whoever did the healing, is incredible at it,” she said casually “I’ve never seen a werewolf infringed wound looking so good after such little time.”

You didn’t say a word which just got another small smile from her. She liked that you wouldn’t speak, it showed your strength of character and stubbornness.

“Fine then, do not tell me,” she added as she started wrapping the bandage again “You know it will scar, right?”

“Yes…” you responded.

“And you don’t care?” she pressed.

You turned to her, holding her stare as you clenched your jaw, what kind of question is that?, you thought. “I don’t,” you said simply, “If it had been anyone else perhaps I–“You stopped yourself from talking, she did not need to hear your inner monologue. “Why am I here?” you asked as you pulled back and started buttoning your blouse back up.

“Because I wanted to know something…”

“And that is?”

“Tell me, do you believe in bIood purity?”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit,” you said simply.

She didn’t react, her face plain “Bold of you to say, when you come from a pure-bIood family.”

“It’s because I come from one that I know it’s bullshit, I know wizards twice as good as me that are not purebloods.”

She hummed, “I don’t think many wizards can be twice as good as you.”

“You can think whatever you like,” you spat, you had always liked Professor Nightshade, admired her even, but you didn’t like the way she was speaking right now, it made you wary.

“I like your bite,” she informed. “You could be really useful, you know...”

“For who?”

She smiled at the way you had asked, so forward “I can teach you,” She said, “Personal classes, one-on-one, I can make you the best duelist to ever walk out of this school…”

“And at what cost?”

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“I have places to be, things to do, friends to see, don’t you?”

She laughed, diverted at how serious you were being “Dumbledore.” You blinked a couple of times after she spoke. “You’d be working for Dumbledore.”

You looked at her, pupils moving fast as you thought about what she said “You’re not recruiting me for my talent,” you said then “you want me for my name, for my father’s contacts.”

“Nothing slips past you, does it?” she said with a smile “but I wouldn’t be talking to you if you weren’t talented.”

You squared your shoulders but didn’t say a thing.

“So… What do you say?”

Remus and Sirius had gotten the cloak and were already halfway through the passageways that would lead them to the library. Once they were about to get into the hallway, Sirius pulled the cloak from his backpack and handed it over to Remus, who, since he was the taller of the two, was almost always the one to accommodate it.

Back when they were smaller it was way easier to get inside the cloak, in fact, the four boys would do it often, and they had no issues fitting in and still being completely invisible. The last time they tried to do it, no matter how close they stood to each other, someone’s shoes ended up being visible. That’s why they resorted to going two at a time, knowing full well that three was their max.

Remus took the cloak and unfolded it in a swift motion, wrapping it around Sirius and himself in a movement that he had done so many times before that it made him look as elegant as a professional muggle magician wrapping his beautiful assistant for a trick.

Sirius looked up at him with a teasing smile as he finished adjusting the cloak, “Let’s go then.”

The two boys walked outside of the hole in the wall and walked alongside each other with practice ease. Remus was awful close to Sirius under the cloak, it was one of the reasons he’d almost always volunteer to go when he did, even if he was feeling off, hanging out with the boy always made him feel better. Either because of the jokes he’d cracked or because of the sheer excitement of just being close to him.

Sirius heard a sound and stopped abruptly, placing a hand over his mouth to silently indicate to him to keep quiet. Remus, who was not expecting the sudden movement, collided with him, his nose almost crashing into Sirius’ head. He got a whiff of his scent, the one of pine trees, musk and a tinge of leather that you loved so much and he had to shut his eyes close to try and regain his stance. Sirius had no clue the effect he had on people. Or perhaps he did know the effect he had on people, since he often used it to his advantage, he just didn’t know the effect he had on Remus. After a second, the boy nodded and the two continued walking, once they had successfully gotten into the restricted section of the library, Remus took the cloak off the two of them.

Sirius leaned closer, placing his hand on Remus’ shoulder to prompt his friend to bend down, when Remus obliged, he tilted his head towards the boy, his long locks brushing against Remus’ shoulder and cheeks. And while Remus was used to this, Sirius was touchy, he’d always been, and he probably always would be, it didn’t stop the shiver that went down his spine when Sirius finally whispered in his ear “Let’s split, I’ll find the potions book, you find the charms one.”

When Sirius finally pulled back, his hand still on Remus’ shoulder, the boy nodded “Keep the cloak,” he suggested “My disillusionment charm is better.”

Sirius arched his eyebrows, diverted. “You should see Vixen’s, she was never spoiled with James’ invisibility cloak like you and I.”

“Bet hers is even better,” Remus said and gave Sirius a wink before casting the spell and becoming almost imperceptible to Sirius. He blinked a few times, staring at nothing for a couple of seconds before he turned around to look for the book. But as he did, he couldn’t help but replay Remus’ wink and smile in his head, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that expression on his friend’s face. Or perhaps he had seen it, he’d just never observed it properly. And it had certainly never lingered in his head like it had that day.

But he shook those weird thoughts off and went straight to look for the book, using his wand to light the names of the tomes as he looked through the different potion books available. He skipped through Potionology: Crafting Magic in a Bottle and Secrets of the Cauldron. There had to be something wrong with the way the books in the section were ordered since none of them followed the standard alphabetical order arrangements normal bookshelves had.

He considered using Accio to get the book he was looking for, but it hadn’t worked last time, and most of the restricted section books had anti-summoning charms since they had to be kept away from most students’ hands. So he instead kept looking, making his lumus just a little more powerful so he could see a bit more of the books at the same time.

Remus was on the far left corner of the room, looking through the charm books to try and find the right one when he heard a noise coming from the other side of the library. It had been faint, so faint that he wouldn’t have noticed it, had it not been because of his acute hearing. Sometimes being a monster came with its perks.

He knew the sound was far away, so far that it wouldn’t be a problem for either of them if it didn’t get closer, so he kept his ears perked as he continued to look for the book. It didn’t take him much, since he knew exactly what he had been looking for. In fact, they had borrowed that same book a couple of times before, and it had a rather distinctive bright red cover, with shiny black details, it was almost impossible to miss. He took it out from its spot on the bookshelf, being careful not to make as much noise as he did, and then he placed it in his bag.

But that’s when he heard it, the sound from earlier had been steps. Steps that were approaching them pretty damn fast. Remus looked around, trying to find Sirius, and the boy was still looking for the book with his wand brightly lit, completely unaware of the sounds that were so clearly drumming in Remus’ ears. “Fuck,” he whispered as he started speed walking towards his friend.

Thud, thud, thud, the steps echoed ominously, growing closer and faster with each passing moment. Remus increased his peace, trying to get to Sirius before whoever was stepping closer to them did.

Remus looked around, trying to find him, and he was still looking for the book with his wand brightly lit, completely unaware of the approaching danger. Thud, thud, THUD, it was getting closer, so close Remus had to improvise.

He grabbed the cloak and repeated the same motion he had done earlier, wrapping it around the two of them in a second, but not measuring his strength, he ended up pressing Sirius against the bookshelf, the boy was about to protest, but Remus heard the steps getting even closer, so he placed one hand on Sirius’ mouth and the other one, he wrapped around the light still coming from the boy’s wand.

Sirius was shocked at first. It’s not that it was weird for Remus to stand so close to him, in fact, the line of personal space had been rather blurry between them for the longest time –especially with how handsy Sirius was all the time– but this was different. The way Remus was pressing onto him reminded him an awful lot of the way he pressed himself onto you sometimes. Sirius almost panicked, breath hitched in his throat when he turned his icy blue eyes to Moony’s face.

He was towering above him, breath steady as he looked to the side, head slightly tilted as he listened on. The footsteps were finally becoming audible for Sirius as well, but even if he was hearing them, he wasn’t quite registering them, he was too busy staring at Remus. He swallowed, focusing his eyes on Remus’s lips for a second before turning back to his eyes, feeling panic at the thoughts surging through his head.

For the first time in a while, Sirius was completely frozen in place, not knowing exactly what to do in a situation like this. He wondered if Prongs had been the one doing the same thing, what would’ve been his reaction. How different would it have been from the reaction he’d given Wormtail? What if it was you?

Remus, who had been focusing on the steps rather than on the way he had trapped Sirius between his arms, seemed to finally understand the position he had placed his friend in. But even if he could feel most of Sirius’s chest against his own, and how their legs were almost intertwined with each other, he had to focus on the situation at hand. Luckily Remus was resourceful enough to be able to focus on one thing at a time, and right at that moment, the approaching steps seemed to be a priority.

The sound was so close now, even Sirius managed to free himself from the trance and turned his eyes to the creak of the metal door being opened. It was Professor Spellman, Remus realised. The man strolled in casually and started looking through the shelves with the light of a small kerosene lantern.

When he got closer to the place where both boys stood, Remus pressed himself a little closer to Sirius, their heads so close Sirius could feel Monny’s breath on his ear. He could also feel the soft rise and fall of his friend’s chest against his own. For some reason the image of Remus’ pirate costume came to his mind, how both you and him had tried to fix his collar when Remus stepped away and took some distance. Remus certainly didn’t seem to care about the closeness now.

Remus could feel Sirius’ curls tickling his cheeks, and he could also feel the way Sirius’ breath had caught in his throat. He could sense out the scent of his shampoo, and he also smelled a little of you. No, your smell was all over Sirius just like Sirius’ smell was almost always all over you. It was an absolutely intoxicating mix, downright bewitching. So much so that he almost leaned closer to bury his head on Sirius’ neck when he realised what he was doing and leaned to the side instead, pretending like he was just looking at Spellman.

Sirius eventually let go of the initial shock, and even if his heart was pounding against his chest, he managed to maintain a slow, regular breathing pattern, as if not to call the attention of Spellman. He had practice already, he’d been in one too many dangerous and exciting situations, being just about to get caught wasn’t foreign to him. What was foreign, is how weird being so close to Remus made him feel.

Which is why he did the only thing he knew worked in situations like that, and he decided to make a joke of his feelings and thoughts instead of dealing with them. He vividly remembered his own reaction to you doing this to him, he wanted to see if Remus would keep his composure if he did the exact same thing.

Sirius Black might give me a heart attack, Remus thought as he felt the way the blue-eyed boy shifted around. And then, all of a sudden, he felt it; wet and sticky, did he just fucking lick my hand? Remus wondered. But decided he might have imagined it. Except he felt it a second time around. He frowned, turning around to see if Spellman was still close, when he realised he was just far enough, he tightened his grip around the boy’s mouth “Sirius. Behave!” Remus berated in a low demanding voice.

Not Pads, not Siri, but Sirius, your boyfriend realised as his breath hitched in his throat yet again. The way Remus Lupin had said that straight up sent a shiver down his spine. He gulped and obediently shut his mouth.

Remus, on the other hand, was really trying to maintain his steady breath. Even, as he felt his heart hammering against his chest. It was so loud to him, he wondered if Spellman could hear it because Sirius had to be hearing it. At least he could chuck it to the brink of almost being caught. Eventually, the professor grabbed a book and walked outside.

When the thumps of his footsteps sounded far enough, he finally pulled his hand from Sirius’ mouth, looking at the boy straight in the eye as he continued breathing heavily. He pulled back as well, finally letting the space normal friends would keep when hanging around each other. Sirius almost missed the closeness, no he did miss the closeness, which was even worse.

“You got the book?” Remus asked before either of them could say something weird. Sirius shook his head and the two of them started to look for the book. Both still under the cloak, both still so dangerously close to each other that, had any of the two wanted, they would have been able to bask in each other’s warmth. But both kept their distanc, both too scared of what the other might have been thinking.

“It’s here,” Sirius said as he pulled the book from the shelf “The Alchemist’s Grimoire, right?”

Remus nodded, “Let’s get out of here.”

You were walking back to the common room when you felt someone’s hand on your arm, yanking you towards their chest. You didn’t have to even look to know it had been Sirius. His cologne filling your nostrils the moment you were wrapped inside the cloak, “So you did find me,” you said turning to Remus, who was also under the cloak, he was placing a piece of parchment behind him, tucking it in between his pants and sweater.

“How was the talk? You’ve got detention?” Sirius asked, moving you to stand right in between the two of them. You felt a little squeezed and thought it was weird since normally Sirius would just stand behind you, but shrugged it off.

“No,” you said “She actually wanted to train me,” you explained “She said I could make a fine duelist.”

“She’s not wrong,” Remus said simply. You turned to him with eyebrows raised “What? We all saw the way you quashed Evan.”

“That wasn’t… never mind, how was your incursion in the library?” you asked, drifting the subject away. Both boys tensed up, you probably wouldn’t have noticed, but you were quite literally pressed in between the two “That bad?”

“Spellman,” Remus said, “He walked inside while we were still looking, we had to stay very still under the cloak for a long while.”

“Oh, must have been fun,” you joked with a teasing smile, but neither of them reacted, which had you side-eye the two with a bit of a frown.

“You bet,” Remus responded after a rather long silence. You frowned, something was definitely off between the two. Did they fight? And if they did, over what? you thought, even if “fight” wasn’t exactly the vibe you were getting.

The three of you continued walking for a while, “this is my stop,” Sirius said suddenly, the three of you stopped walking, and Sirius placed his hand on your shoulder to guide you closer to the entrance of the passageway he’d take back to the dorms.

“This is for you,” Remus said as he pulled out the charms book from his shoulder bag, Sirius took it and gave him the other book in return. You observed their interactions with squinted eyes, they were both a little stiff, robotic. Especially Sirius, actually, it might have just been Sirius, Remus did look a little fazed but he always did after the full moon, and it had barely been a couple of days since the incident either way.

“Mind if I steal her for a minute?” Sirius said as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside the passage along with him. You gave Remus a questioning look and he just shrugged, allowing Sirius to basically pull you all the way to the other side, letting the tapesry to fall back into place, giving you both just enough privacy.

You managed to barely give Sirius a look before he had you pinned against the cold stone wall and leaned into you. You didn’t even have a chance to gasp before he swallowed the sound by clashing his mouth into yours. Sirius hadn’t kissed you that hungrily since, perhaps a couple of days ago when you were still craving meat above anything else, but even back then, it had been you the one that had started the kiss. The one time he had kissed you, remotely like that, had perhaps been at the Halloween Party…

You knew something was up, but you couldn’t help but melt into the kiss either way, perhaps he was just too stressed after almost being caught and he wanted a way to find release. And no, using you as a relief of stress was not at all making you feel bad, in fact, you kind of enjoyed being able to help him, to anchor him.

Sirius pushed even closer to you, sliding his knee in between your legs as he placed both hands on your face, angling it however he pleased, you let him, in fact, you enjoyed it. The way he kissed you made you feel giddy and excited and almost weak on the knees. You wrapped your hands around his neck, using him as support as you brushed your fingers on the nape of his neck. He responded by pressing his hips to you, probably involuntarily, but you had noticed he absolutely loved it when you placed your fingers there, under his beautiful black locks, so you did it when you wanted a reaction from him.

He accidentally brushed your wounded shoulder, and you winced, “Sorry,” he mumbled, separating from your mouth for just enough to be able to say the words and going straight back to kissing you, letting his hands wrap around your waist instead. You didn’t realise until much later that Sirius had not once, in the many times he kissed you after you got hurt, been so careless with his kisses, so needy.

But you didn’t care, you couldn’t care, really. Not with the way he had you pressed against the stone wall, not with the way he had his lips moving around yours in such a demanding way, not with the way he smelled. And boy, did he smell fucking delicious that day. It was his normal cologne, the smell of musk and leather, but there was something else in the mix too, something you couldn’t quite place. Or perhaps it was something that your brain just didn’t want to place, since it was Remus. What you were smelling, the one thing that was different had been there just because of the way Moony had pressed Sirius against the wall. But you didn’t know, and there was no way you realised either way. Not with the way Sirius’s kiss made your mind foggy.

When he finally broke the kiss, the two of you were panting, and he started placing soft, butterfly kisses all over your face. He looked at you with a lovesick smile “You’re stunning, you know that?” he asked.

You blushed, as if it was possible to blush even more than you already had, but you somehow managed to sober up from the kiss and placed your hand on his cheek, he keened to the touch, still with a smile as he looked at you with those beautiful icy-blue eyes of his, shining brightly in the dark room “Are you okay Puppy?” you asked, a small smile forming in your face.

Sirius’ smile faltered for only a second, as if he had remembered something and he nodded “More than perfect,” he smirked, “especially after that kiss.” His tone had changed, he was flirting, he was distracting you.

You averted your gaze, sometimes you were weaker to his advances, sometimes his flirting affected you a lot more than normally, even if you should’ve already gotten used to it. But there was something still bothering you in the back of your head and you turned back to look at him, “Are you sure?”

Sirius smiled at your concern, but also because whatever had him feeling so off minutes earlier, was gone, you were there, and he wanted to kiss you, not Moony, but you. So whatever that had been, must have been a spur-of-the-moment thing, he was utterly and irrevocably in love with you, which meant there was no way he liked Remus. Because you couldn’t like two people at the same time, that was impossible… right?

“Absolutely,” he said, placing another one of those quick wet kisses, this time to your lips, “Moony’s waiting outside for you luv, aren’t you planning to go?”

You tilted your head, a small scoff slipping from your lips “You’re the one that cornered me in the dark hallway Puppy.”

He hummed as he tilted his head “You want another kiss don’t you, little Kit?” he teased after hearing the nickname.

You shrugged, ignoring the pain from your shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear “Maybe later lover boy, we’ve got work to do,” you said in what you hoped was a seductive tone before leaning in and placing a soft kiss in his mouth. Seconds after you disappeared through the curtain.

Sirius looked at you, frozen in place again, mouth agape as he saw the tapestry shut behind you. He swallowed, face stoic once more, the way you had whispered in his ear, had reminded him an awful lot of the way Remus had earlier, softer, almost like a purr rather than a demanding bark, but both had felt as intimate as the other. Both equally shiver inducing.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0 @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @northernstvr @voteforintensedreams @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae

Leve a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: Merry Christmas Guys! Thought of giving you a special little Christmas gift today, hope you enjoy, and you're all having the happiest of times. If you are not thought, that is alright, and my DMs are ALWAYS open in case you wanna talk about it. -> AHHHH Sirius’ gay panic, I hope I got this one right, I’ve been wanting to post this since I wrote it a few weeks ago… how do you like it? Lilly xxx

Raead more Marauders Fiction

233 notes · View notes