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h2bakugou · 4 years ago

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4k special | WAP dance reactions

a/n: it’s here! the big moment!! (edit 9.12.2020 - requests are closed and will reopen again soon!)

thank you for 4,000 followers, and as of editing, we’re at 4.3k, it’s insane, thank you so much, i love writing, and your support is what makes it possible. here’s to more in the future. thank you for all your love and support <3

dance credits go to @/ besperon on tiktok!

all characters aged up 18+ au!!

headcanon: them reacting to their s/o doing the wap dance

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, fluff, no smut but 16+

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

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Before you even start the dance, you’re pumping yourself up. The song is playing, and you’ve just decided you’ll dance to the part when it gets to it.

You practiced hard enough, and you had a few injuries but now you were ready.

Bakugou’s watching you closely. This song was very interesting to him.

All of the analogies in the song are shocking him the more he listens to it. It’s kind of groovy though.

Bakugou’s waiting, and as he reaches for his phone the ending hook comes and he’s frozen as you kick your leg up and begin to dance.

He watches as you bounce back in forth, your curves moving to the music.

He’s shocked by the way you move, he’s never seen you do anything like that before. But he’d certainly like to see you do it again.

“What was that?” Bakugou smirks. You catch your breath and stand up, smiling.

“The new dance I learned, did you like it?” You question, walking over to him.

“Oh I loved it.” Bakugou smirked. You rolled your eyes and sat down on his lap.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Could you teach me how to do it?” Bakugou’s eyes were speaking for him, you knew exactly what he meant, but before you’d show him the dance privately, you’d worked his ass out and had him learn the dance.

He nailed it-

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

You’ve been practicing this dance for about a week or two now. And you were so excited to see Todoroki’s reaction of it.

“Hey Sho?” You call for your boyfriend and he emerges from his room. You were at his house, and thankfully there was plenty of space for you to do said dance.

“Yes baby?” He asks, standing in the doorway of the large studio you’d been warming up in.

“I have a dance I’d like for you to see me do.” You smile innocently.

“Alright.”

You begin to play the music, just before it gets to the part you’ll be dancing too and Todoroki’s face is already red.

And when the beat drops, you’re kicking your leg up and dropping down to the floor, popping your ass out and going at it.

Todoroki is entranced as he watches you, completely mesmerized by how you’re moving.

It’s so beautiful.

When you get to the split, Todoroki’s eyes widen as you move. He’s blown away.

“That was amazing.” Todoroki compliments. It was hot.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You whisper to him, pecking his cheek as his face reddens even more.

“Hey wait.” Todoroki grips your wrist and looks down.

“Do you have a few minutes?”

“Do you want a private dance lesson?”

“Yes.” Todoroki whispers.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Be prepared. Because Izuku is going to be a blushing mess before and after.

You’ve practiced, and he’s heard the song you practiced too. It was all over social media and he accidentally interrupted you while you were practicing.

But you shooed him out and finished up alone without any interruptions.

Deku can be a shy boy but he can also be dominant. A true switch.

“You ready?” You ask as Izuku sits down on the couch nervously. He nods and relaxes, sitting back into the dark green sofa.

The music starts and you sway your hips, waiting for the beat to drop, and when it does, you do too.

Izuku’s eyes are glued to you as you kick your leg up and land on the floor, throwing your ass out and following the routine.

Midoriya’s cheeks flush red as he watches, but he can certainly tell how hard it must’ve been to learn the dance, let alone how badass it was as well.

When you finish the dance, you bow and smile at Izuku, who’s trying his best to contain his excitement and fluster.

“That was amazing!” He was proud of you. He knows how hard training can be.

“Did you like it?” You questioned innocently, striding over to him on the couch, taking a seat on his lap.

“I loved it! You did great!” Deku beamed, no longer trying to hide his blushing face.

“There’s a lyric, in this song...”

“Yeah?” Deku’s hands rest on your hips.

“I think I’d like to spell my name out for you sometime.”

»»————-　★　————-««

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

Horny. Jail.

If anyone knows this song, it’s Kaminari. He knows it word for word, and it’s probably one of his most played songs at the moment. Not for its lyrics, but because he genuinely finds it pretty groovy.

He also finds the ‘touch that little dangly dang that swing in the back of my throat’ part funny.

He’s probably also seen the dance a few times, he’s woke when it comes to tik tok culture.

So when he overhears you practicing the dance, he’s very curious.

“Whatcha doin’?” He peaks his head into the room and you quickly snap out of the position you were in.

“Nothing! Go!” You shoo him away with a smile, closing the door so you can finish practicing.

Kaminari has an idea of what’s going on.

So when you perform the dance for him, he’s aware and he knows what he’s expecting, but at the same time, he did not expect it at all.

The way your body moved and flowed with the music, you looked good, really fucking good.

“Shit.” Kaminari cursed, biting his bottom lip as you brought your leg back around, bouncing into the final split as you bounced up and down.

Kaminari’s never really seen you move like that before, but he knows now that he loves every second of it.

“What’d you think?” You ask, stepping over to him.

“I-It was good.” Kaminari had drool leaking from his mouth as he stared at you, his entire body threatening to short circuit.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You lean down and kiss his cheek, knowing that he was going to be smitten for you even harder.

»»————-　★　————-««

eijiro kirishima

»»————-　★　————-««

He’s heard the song maybe once or twice thanks to Kaminari. He likes the song and thinks it’s actually pretty good.

He doesn’t know there’s a dance for it, and he certainly doesn’t know that you’re practicing it.

So when you bring him into your bedroom and sit him down on the bedroom, he’s a little confused.

And when you start dancing, his faces turns a shade of crimson, very similar to the one he dyes his hair.

Your body moves swiftly, and Kirishima’s eyes never seem to leave you as he watches you dance.

From the way you move your hips, to the point of your toes as you kick into the split.

Watching you do something like that is impressive, Kirishima is impressed.

“Wow.” Kirishima utters as you rise to your feet, clapping your hands together with a big grin on your lips.

“Did you like it?” You question, excitement bubbling inside you. It’d taken hours, probably close to a few days in fact, of practice to nail it. And it was well worth it.

You felt sexy, and validated, and strong, and badass.

“I loved it. You did amazing.” Kirishima smiles, trying to ignore the heat on his face.

“You’re blushing Kiri.” You comment, teasing the red-head as you walk over to him.

“I’m not! I’m just...”

“Being manly. I know.” You kiss his cheek and sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Are you tired?” Kirishima asked quietly, his large hands resting on your hips.

“Why? Do you have something in mind?”

»»————-　★　————-««

tamaki amajiki

»»————-　★　————-««

Tamaki is flustered just being around you. He’s a nervous kind of guy, granted he can swallow his nerves when he needs too, but generally speaking, he’s gonna be a blushing mess when you mention even holding hands.

It’s no surprise what this song does to him.

Between the loss of words, and the sheer heat that radiates off of the bright blush on his cheeks, he’s flustered.

Even more so when you begin to dance.

It’s not like he’s embarrassed of sex, or songs that mention it, he just happens to get flustered easily.

Especially when you dance.

And you dance well.

He’s battling watching you or looking away and not trying to imagine the dance as anything more than a dance. It’s hard, but you wanted him to watch you. Why should he feel bad?

“B-bunny.” He stutters quietly as you transition into the split, popping your hips out, bouncing off the ground.

When the music fades out, he covers his face to hide the enormous blush on his cheeks.

“Awe, Tama-”

“Bunny. T-That was so beautiful.” He stutters, peeking through his fingers to look at you as you approach him.

“Thank you. Are you alright, your face is really red.” You peel his hands away and get close to his face, admiring your boyfriend up close.

“I-I’m fine. J-Just a little hot.” Tamaki gushes, looking away quickly.

“You don’t have to be so flustered about it, I wanted you to see me dance! It’s okay Tamaki.” You kiss his cheek and hold his hands, earning his gaze.

“Bunny.” Tamaki pulls you on top of him and you laugh at him for a second before admiring him even closer.

»»————-　★　————-««

mirio togata

»»————-　★　————-««

Ass man ass man ass man.

He literally sticks his ass out of a bush and you’re gonna tell me he isn’t-

He’s sold the second he hears the song, he already knows what’s about to happen because he’s kind of into the whole tiktok thing.

He watches in antcipation as the song plays, waiting for the moment you drop to the floor.

And he’s so into it. He’s grinning like an idiot, practically drooling over you as your hips move in ways he’d only ever imagined them to move.

More so, when you do the splits, he’s curious about how long you can do them for.

And when it’s over, he’s clapping.

“That was amazing, I had no clue you could move like that.” Mirio hus as you walk over to him.

“I’ve been practicing. I’m glad you liked it!” You smile, giving hin a short hug.

“Could I see those moves again sometime?” Mirio asks cheekily. You giggle and sigh.

“I guess I could teach you a little about them.”

»»————-　★　————-««

hawks/keigo takami

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This motherfucker.

He knew from day one what you were going to do. Just from hearing the song a little more often from your shared room, and the denial of him entering said room while it was playing-he caught on really quick.

So he did a little research.

And after watching a few videos of people dancing to it, he couldn’t fucking wait.

To see you do those moves? To see you move like that? Oh god he was foaming at the mouth.

He’d purposely try and spy on you while you were practicing, even daring to peep in from the window by flying outside of it.

But at the same time, he wanted it to be a surprise. He’d catch himself in the act of trying to watch you practice and he’d curse himself for being so impatient. Being patient was going to make the final experience even better.

And oh how happy he was to have waited.

Watching you pop your ass and move your hips, laying on the floor and bouncing your ass upward and even doing a split.

He was impressed.

And he was even more so, very intrigued.

“You gonna put all that training to use, Babybird?” Hawks’ sly smile and relaxed position on the couch made the comment that much more sensual.

With his arms stretched out over the tops of the cushions, and his legs pointed outward, you crawled and sat right between them, gazing up at him with bright eyes.

“You’d be lucky if I even let you sleep in the same bed with me tonight, horny ass.”

“Hey- I’m not even in season yet!”

“Shut it bird brain! You can test them out for yourself!” You joked as you got up, walking away from the winged man.

“Oh Babybird, you have no idea.”

»»————-　★　————-««

dabi

»»————-　★　————-««

Much like Hawks, this bastard is way too horny to not know what the fuck is going on when he hears the song WAP playing.

Even more when you practically beat his ass for barging into your apartment without knocking.

“I’m busy! What do you want?” You ask as you push him out of your bedroom, into the hallway toward the front door.

“I’m just checking in on my baby. Is that illegal?”

“Dabi, you’re literally a criminal-”

“A criminal of love baby.”

“Get out. I’ll text you if I need you dumbass.”

Back to practice, it’s tricky. The dance is very fast-paced, but you nail it. after way too many ice-packs and ‘fucking shit’s said later, you have mastered the WAP dance.

Around ten minutes after a ‘come over’ text, Dabi arrives to your apartment.

With candles set out, awaiting Dabi’s blue flames to light them and set the mood, you’re dressed simply in one of Dabi’s favorite outfits.

“Oh baby.”

“Light the candles and sit down.”

With no further questions, Dabi does as he’s told and takes a seat on the couch which he quickly notices is pushed back further than it usually is. Come to notice even more, most of your living room furniture is moved out of the way entirely.

When the music begins, you begin to dance as well, not wasting a second as the lyrics float into Dabi’s ears.

Watching your hips and your ass, Dabi is clearly interested in what you’re serving him. You look good too, but when you move like that, of course he’s going to be a drooling mess.

In a less sexual way, he’s impressed with your moves, he knows training is a big step to anything, so he wonders how hard you worked, and for how long, it took you to master this dance.

“Come here baby.” Dabi ushers for you to come to him with his pointer and middle finger after you finish dancing.

You take a seat on his lap and smile.

“We’ve already set the mood, why not continue? You could give me a private lesson on those moves you just did.”

»»————-　★　————-««

overhaul/kai chisaki

»»————-　★　————-««

He has no clue what you’re doing. You asked if you could show him something and now he’s in a room alone with you.

You’re setting up some music and he can’t keep his eyes off of you and the way you’re dressed. He was thankful he was alone in the room with you or he might’ve had to tell people to step out.

You were his angel after all, not anyone else’s.

When the music starts, his the tips of his ears begin to burn bright red. This music is raunchy and sexy, but he likes it. It’s got a good tune, and it’s empowering, and then he sees you.

You’re swaying your hips to the music until a certain point and you drop to the floor, popping your ass and grinding against the floor, dancing to the music erotically.

He’s impressed. Not as much that you’re dnacing on the somewhat dirty floor, but he’s impressed nonetheless.

“Angel, that was riveting.” Chisaki comments, his arms crossed over his chest. He can feel his pans becoming tight but he decides to ignore it.

“So did you like it? I worked extra hard on it.” You look so innocent as you approach him, your pink lips pursed and begging to be kissed as you stand in front of him.

“I loved it.” Chisaki nods, a smile rests on his lips under his mask unable to be seen.

“I could show it to you again up close if you’d like.” You hint at something a little more physcial which only stirs Chisaki more.

“That sounds like a good idea, angel.”

»»————-　★　————-««

tomura shigaraki

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I’m not sure if Tomura is a big tik tok guy. He’s into video games, and probably graphic novels too, but depending on his fyp, he probably won’t even get close to hearing the WAP song or know anything about the dance.

That being said, he’s gonna get annoyed if he hears “now from the top, make it drop’ one more time.

Currently wishing he could grip a sound wave and decay it.

But, when you pull him away from a video game, or say a meeting with league and sit him down in a chair in a dark room with some rather unpleasant lighting, maybe just enough to illuminate the two of you and nothing else, he’s confused, but also very interested in what you’re about to do.

And there’s that stupid line- ‘now from the top,’ and- you’re dancing.

His crimson eyes lock onto your figure as you dance, the growing urge to turn the music off suddenly dies as he watches you bounce and pop your hips.

The way your body moves, he’s addicted. Like you’re administering some sort of drug, he can’t look away.

When you lay on the ground and roll onto your back, spreading your legs as you roll into a crawl and then into split and continue to bounce your ass, he’s completely speechless.

The very definition of no thoughts, head empty.

And the aftermath of it all.

forget whatever the fuck he was doing before, forget the grudge he was holding against the lyric’ now from the top, make it drop’, forget the terrible lighting, he’s getting down to the bottom of whatever you just did.

“What was that?” Shigaraki ask, his hands daring to scratch at his neck.

“Did you like it?” You ask, batting your eyes at your flustered yet confused boyfriend.

“I liked it yes.” He mumbles, looking at you from the chair, you’re still sitting on the ground as he stands and walks over to you.

“You’re really flexible. Why didn’t you tell me that before?” He towers over you before squatting to your height.

“Meet me in my room in ten minutes.” He whispers.

»»————-　★　————-««

eraserhead/shota aizawa

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A man addicted to black coffee and funny cat videos on youtube has no knowledge of WAP or it’s current dance craze on tik tok. But do not let that discourage you.

After hearing the song a few times while you practice your dance, unbeknownst to him, of course, he might get a little curious.

You’re being secretive and it leads him to do a little research. Simply typing in a few lyrics, he finds the song and the dance shortly after.

He’s more or less very interested in what you might have to be doing. Because if you’re learning this dance, he might not know what to do with himself.

Sure enough, you come striding out of your shared room one day, wearing something cute for Aizawa.

“Got a minute?” You ask, pulling him away from grading papers.

Sitting him on the couch, you step back and turn on the song, smiling as he watches you.

And watch you he does. From the second you kick your leg up, to the second you bounce your ass the last time, ending the dance.

His eyes never leave you. The way you crawl, the way you lay on the floor and pop your hips up, he’s not the least bit uninterested.

“Where’d you learn all that Kitty?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest, his long raven hair parted to watch you even better.

“From the internet. Why? Curious to learn it too?” You tease, crawling over to him.

“Only if you teach me.” He says slyly.

“You’re supposed to do the teaching not me.” You smile up at him.

“Is that how you want to play?” Aizawa smirks and crosses his leg, cutting you off from crawling between his legs.

“You tell me, Kitty cat.”

»»————-　★　————-««

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tomurasprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 28: Lactation (The Nest)

Day 28: Lactation Title: The Nest Pairing: Hawks x Reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: A/B/O AU, sorta dubcon but sorta not (due to Stockholm syndrome), pregnant sex, lactation kink, biting, marking, slight blood mention, yandere Note: Sequel to Aerie. So sorry this has taken so long to get out, but for some reason it was really kicking my ass. Hope it was worth the wait, however.

Kinktober Masterlist

You are absolutely miserable.

Not because of Keigo, no. Of course not because of Keigo. He was nothing but the doting mate during your pregnancy, a complete gentleman who provided you with anything that you needed.

No, you were miserable over the fact that your back aches, your ankles are so swollen you can barely walk, and your breasts are so heavy and full of milk that the pressure is killing you. You can not wait for these pups to be born already.

“Hey baby bird, how are you doing?”

You manage an incoherent grumble as you prop your feet up, and he simply smiles at your grumpiness.

“Having a bad day?” He kneels down on the floor, taking your foot into his hand and massaging your swollen ankles. You let out a cry of pleasure as he works the muscles with skilled hands, and you lay your head back and close your eyes.

“I want these pups out of me already,” you complain, and his smile simply widens.

“You know what they say helps with that, right?” He whispers slyly, hands trailing from your ankles up your legs. His finger light touches has you shivering, goosebumps rising on your skin.

He spreads your legs, pushing your already damp panties to the side as he licks along your folds. You moan, head falling back onto the chair as your hand comes to rest on his head. He laps at you like a man starved, nibbling and sucking on the skin but ignoring your clit completely.

“Keigo,” you whimper, “please - “

“Please what?” He laughs smugly. “Use your words or I won’t know what you want.”

“Keigo, please - please, I need you.”

“Need me? You have me already, baby bird.”

“No, I need you - I need you to lick me.”

He chuckles again, the vibration spreading out through your skin and causing a tingle of pleasure to run up your body.

You growl a bit in frustration before finally getting the words out. “Please, suck my clit, please - “

He teases your clit out with his tongue before taking it into his mouth, sucking hard on the throbbing bead and drawing a moan from your lips.

“Ahh, please don’t stop, it feels so good.”

He doesn’t stop, continuing to suckle at your clit as he slips two fingers inside of you. He curls them upwards to graze that spot inside of you that he knows will make you come undone around his fingers.

“Ahh, oh god, shit, Keigo!”

You cum with a strangled cry, body convulsing as you clamp down around his fingers. You feel yourself begin to gush as he works your g-spot through your orgasm, squirting all over his face and causing him to chuckle with male pride.

“Such a good mate,” he groans as he suckles on your clit even harder. You shout as you’re finally able to pull away, the stimulation being too much to handle.

He gives you a second to catch your breath before pulling you up from your seat, lowering you down onto his lap as he holds you. You smile at your pleased mate, leaning in to give him a kiss. Only to let out a gasp of pain as your sore breasts rub against his shirt, causing milk to leak from your nipples and form two damp spots on the front of your shirt.

“Do you want some help, baby bird?” He whispers to you, reaching up to slip your wet shirt over your head.

“Help? How can you - ahhh!”

You whimper as he takes your breast into your hand, squeezing gently and causing milk to flow from your sore nipples. He instantly follows with his tongue, lapping at your skin as he licks the droplets off.

“Keigo,” you sniffle as you tangle your hand into his hair, pulling him back down to your breasts. “Please, do that again - “

You can feel his body rumble with laughter as he repeats the action on the other breast. But this time, he takes the nipple into his mouth as he squeezes, shooting your milk directly into his mouth as he greedily sucks.

You sob in sheer pleasure at the release of some of the pressure, and you tangle your hand into his hair as he suckles on your nipple. When he finally pulls away, there’s a bit of milk on his lip. He notices where your eyes are, and pulls you in for a heated kiss so you can taste yourself on his lips.

“You taste so good, baby bird.”

“Here, have a taste.”

He pulls away too quickly, only to lower his head back to your other breast. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes please,” you whisper, “it feels so good, please Keigo.”

“I could never deny my little omega when she begs so cutely,” he whispers in a low voice before taking your other nipple into his mouth.

This time he takes big gulps of your milk, causing you to gasp with sheer pleasure as more pressure is relieved from your swollen breasts. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you plead with him.

You can feel his lips curve into a grin as his tongue swirls around your reddened nipple, continuing to squeeze out your milk into his mouth.

“Fuck, I can’t hold back anymore. Come here,” he has you switch positions, pulling you into his lap as he sits back in the recliner. He reaches down to rip your panties off with one sharp tug.

“I need you, omega,” he whispers to you in that tone that always has you obeying him.

“I need you too,” you groan, a thrill running through your body as you hear a zipper being undone. His hot, hard length runs along your slit, gathering up your ample juices and coating his cockhead.

“Do you like me drinking your milk so much? You’re so damned wet.”

Your face goes hot, and you can’t bear to look at him in embarrassment.

“Hey, none of that,” he grabs your chin and pulls your face to meet his eyes. “No shame allowed here,” he says happily as he gives you that goofy grin that you love so much.

You can no longer remember why you fought him for so long.

He lowers you down slowly onto his cock, causing a delicious stretch that has you trembling with desire.

Once he’s balls deep inside of you, he pauses for a long second to allow you to get used to his girth. Despite how long you’ve been together, you’re still not entirely used to his size.

He runs his hands along your body and down your sides, causing you to shiver against him. “You look so beautiful,” he murmurs to you, “and I’m going to prove it to you.

He finally begins to move inside of you, bouncing you along his length as you squirm. You put your arms above him on the headrest as you lift yourself up and force yourself back down to meet his every thrust. The sounds of skin smacking against skin fill the room, and you moan as he grazes that sensitive spot against your inner walls.

“Right there, Keigo,” you whine a bit, and he starts to aim for that spot relentlessly. He leans up to take a nipple into his mouth as he begins to suckle again, taking large gulps of milk as he rocks inside of you.

You never knew something could feel so good, so right, and you find yourself cumming just from the pleasure of the agonizing pressure being relieved.

“You feel so good cumming on my cock like that, baby bird,” he whispers to you as he bounces you up and down on his length easily, fucking you ruthlessly through your orgasm.

“Shit, Keigo, too much, too much.” The tension in you snaps again and you cum even harder, so sensitive from your previous orgasms that your body goes limp in his arms as your whole body trembles.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” You can feel the base of his cock begin to swell, and you moan in anticipation of what’s about to happen. He moves his hips in sharp, short thrusts as his knot stretches your still too tight inner muscles. Your mouth opens in a wide O as the knot forces its way against your g-spot, getting caught there briefly and pulling another orgasm from your exhausted body.

He holds your body down as he ropes his knot into you inch by inch, stretching you until the top of the knot is pressing against your cervix. The knot tugging at your insides and your pussy still fluttering around his cock has him finally shooting loads of cum into you, filling you up so much that it leaks past his knot and drips down to stain the couch.

“You did so good, my little omega,” he murmurs to you as he rubs small circles into your heated, sweaty back. “So good for your mate.”

You nuzzle against his scent gland, licking the sweat from the spot and replacing it with your own. A sign of an omega marking her mate.

“Marking me again, omega?” He murmurs huskily, chuckling as he returns the favor. “Funny, I remember how resistant you were to me at first.”

A sense of unease runs up your spine. You try not to think of those times, the times that you so rudely rejected your mate. That you hurt him, denied him the mating bond until he was forced to take action. A smaller, deeper part reminds you that this is exactly what you were trying to avoid. But it gets softer each and every day, more easily pushed back down and forgotten about.

Keigo, sensing your distraction, sinks his teeth into your neck as he breaks the skin. You whine a bit before he gently laps at the blood, soothing the wound as his chest rumbles against yours like he’s purring.

“Do you feel better now?”

“I - I do, Keigo,” you murmur, realizing that it’s the truth. Those days where you fought him, fought to keep a hold of your freedom are long gone.

Who needs freedom when you have a mate such as Keigo, and beautiful pups coming soon?

You try to stand up, only to find that his knot hasn’t gone down at all, preventing you from pulling away. “Gonna have to wait a little longer, beautiful mate,” he chuckles. “We’re still tied together.”

The thought echoes through your head, just a single, stray thought.

Tied together. Just like you’ll always be.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚❋ ❋ ❋˚┉┉┉┉┉��✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @wings-flames-and-ashes, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @unmeiii, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @dabilove27, @anxietyplusultra, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @f4nficbaby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen, @blissfulignorance2000, @bluecookies02-main, @aryjaa, @theodora3022, @raekah, @ineedmorefanfics, @serosmissingtoe, @deathmemeiverse, @miscellaneous-bnha

#hawks x reader #hawks smut #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #yandere hawks #bnha x reader #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha x reader #mha smut #tw: biting #yandere mha #tw: a/b/o #tw: dubcon #tw: manipulation

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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enstarsomo · 2 years ago

Text

So I wasn't expecting to get any interaction on my first ever post but hi there new follower 🐶 I'm glad you enjoyed my omorashi ramblings. This time I have an actual fanfic instead of whatever the last post was; I don't even know I was just writing down my thoughts. Mika again because I love him and also he has lots of good omo potential, but next time I promise it will be someone else. Anyways, onto the fic:

Mika lay in bed, snuggled in several layers of blankets. He had worked himself too hard, again, but this time he got very ill as a result. His head throbbed and his entire body felt cold and frail; he probably couldn't get up even if he wanted to, which is why when he first felt the slight twinge in his bladder alerting him that he needed to pee, he ignored it. It wasn't bad yet and he was so tired that even going to the bathroom seemed like a daunting task. He stayed there for a while, squirming occasionally under the sheets, but overall the urge didn't bother him that much. His eyes were feeling heavy so he decided to rest them and ended up drifting off for a bit. Or so he thought. A quick glance at the clock showed that an entire hour had passed in his sleep, and after gradually regaining his consciousness, Mika found that his need was a lot more pressing now. It still didn't feel urgent but he was definitely uncomfortable enough to try getting to the bathroom. As soon as he managed to free himself from the blankets and roll off the bed though, a wave of desperation hit him. He hadn't realised just how badly he needed to go until he stood up and suddenly gravity was pulling down on all the liquid in his bladder. In its weakened state, his body couldn't handle this overwhelming urge and he collapsed to the ground, clutching himself tightly so he wouldn't lose control right there. He didn't, but there was no way he could get back up again without wetting himself. After a few minutes of Mika being immobilised, Ritsu walked in, returning from a practice session.

"Mika-rin!" he exclaimed as soon as he saw his sick friend writhing in pain on the floor. "What's wrong?" he urged, assisting Mika to his feet and propping him up on his shoulder.

"B-Bathroom," Mika muttered, crossing his shaking legs.

"Here, let me help," Ritsu offered.

He led Mika to the bathroom while Mika held onto his shirt, whimpering quietly.

"We're almost there," Ritsu reassured as he fumbled with the doorknob, noticing Mika's increasing discomfort.

He finally got the door open, but they only got a few steps inside before Mika fell to his knees again, only some feet from the toilet. His desperation and illness had gotten the best of him. He was still dry, gripping himself as hard as he could with both hands, but he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Come on, you're so close," Ritsu encouraged with a forced smile. "Can you get up?"

Too exhausted to speak, Mika simply shook his head. He couldn't move.

It pained Ritsu to see his friend so defeated. To see him reach his limit this close to the finish-line. "What if I carried you? Could you-" he began, but was cut off by the sound of Mika's strangled squeaks.

It was too late; Mika was already wetting himself. The flow was weak as he still tried his hardest to keep it in, but it was clear he'd lost this battle. Ritsu thought quickly and grabbed a towel off the rack, shoving it between Mika's legs and holding it there.

"Stop trying to hold it, you're gonna hurt yourself- just relax, it's okay."

Mika didn't get a chance to think before his body made the decision for him. He closed his eyes, a soft moan escaping his lips as warm urine gushed into his pyjama shorts, dripping down onto the towel. He was only peeing for maybe 40 seconds when the stream stopped. The towel was damp but not soaked and it had absorbed most of the liquid, having a decently sized yellow stain. Ritsu rubbed his back gently, trying to soothe him.

"You can let go of the rest, don't be afraid," he comforted.

"Th-That's all," Mika answered faintly, letting out a final tiny spurt.

Ritsu knew that Mika could usually hold more than that, so this really surprised him. He didn't have the most powerful bladder, but many days he'd come back, rushing straight for the bathroom, and Ritsu would hear him going for well over a minute. He must be very sick for such a small amount to debilitate him like that.

"You sure you're done? Should I take this away now?"

Mika nodded. Ritsu pressed on the towel to soak up anything that was left then he rolled it up and tossed it into the hamper. He quickly washed his hands and sat back down beside Mika, reaching up to feel his forehead. He had a strong fever. Ritsu pulled him into a hug.

"I'm worried about you Mika-rin; I didn't know your condition was so serious... I'm sorry I left you alone and wasn't there when you needed me, but I'm here now, and I'll do everything I can-" He got up and started the water in the tub. "Now come on you need to get cleaned up."

#enstars #ensemble stars #enstars omorashi #omorashi #mika kagehira #ritsumika #omocute

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duckugou · 3 years ago

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golden

Kenma x GN!reader

Im trying to stray away from my comfort zone of just writing readers that use she/her so bear with me

sorry if this lowkey sucks but it was inspired by harry styles song golden

cw: big cursing, huge fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, comfort, aged up!

come to my asks to be a part of my taglist! just let me know what kinds of fics/ what fandom/ what characters/ etc you want to be tagged in!

Requests are open!!

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

Being a streamer comes with perks. Being comfy at home, not having to face people in real life every day, playing games, typical shit. Another perk is making good friends.

Meeting people on a voice chat is common for Kenma -guys and gals alike. What he wasnt expecting one night was the sweetest voice on the other end of his headphones.

"You're all fucks- I'm better at this game than all of you combined. Try me."

To think that was the sentence that made Kenma's ears perk up and burn.

"What the hell ever- we have the great Kodzuken on our side." One of the guys said, half joking half dead serious.

"Oh yeah, he isn't even speaking up to defend your pussy asses- probably knows I could beat him too." You could hear the smirk in that last part.

"U-uh, no. You can't beat me. Nobody can actually. Not at this game." Kenma rebutted , confident in his gaming skills but not so much his speaking skills to this stranger.

"Oh man, you certainly sound confident. Come on, Kodzuken- 1v1 me then. Show me who the best really is."

Kenma suddenly felt nervous. Should he really demolish this stranger? Isn't it polite to let the person you like win? He didn't like this person yet but god their voice was attractive.

"Fine. Send the request." He decided.

"Sent, fucker."

The game resulted in a tie because this stranger actually knew what they were doing. They both threw friendly insults at each other the whole time of course, making each of them laugh a little.

"Okay fine. The great Kodzuken himself almost beat me. Im almost honored to have a great streamer almost beat me."

"Well you almost beat me too- uh-" Kenma stuttered over the fact that he didn't know how to address this stranger.

"Oh! Call me Y/n." The person giggled.

"You can uh, call me Kenma."

"Oh you don't want me to repeat your title over and over like everyone else?" They laughed.

"No, friends don't call me that. They use my name name." His ears were burning.

"Friends, huh? Guess that means you owe me your number so we can schedule a rematch where I can properly beat your ass."

"Huh, guess so."

A few months had gone by and Y/n and Kenma were as close as they could be. They found out they live close by each other and began hanging out a lot.

Y/n would be in the back of his streams on occasion and wouldn't hesitate to speak up during them. Thats the thing about Y/n. They've always been so outspoken. Since the start. Everything they talk about comes so easy to Y/n. Nothing is held back. Kenma knows everything about them. He on the other hand is still a bit closed off. Quiet. The two are so opposite yet so alike. Kenma doesn't speak much about himself, opting to listen.

Especially when talking about past relationships.

One night, they were sat in Kenmas room in separate chairs, letting conversations flow.

"So, you've dated but why have the relationships ended?" Y/n asked.

"Ah, I dont know- its not important. Why did yours end?" Kenma flipped the question as he always does.

"One guy cheated," Y/n tossed a piece of popcorn in the air, missing their mouth and brushing it off. "One girl left because she was leaving for school, and one guy just didn't mesh with me. Your turn." Y/n pushed the question back.

"Uh- well. I don't click with people easily. I'm pretty closed off so when I date it usually ends in hurt feelings by accident or they get sick of me." Kenma finally admitted.

"Huh." Y/n flopped onto their stomach on the bed after setting down the popcorn. "Don't you like anyone though? Like- if you liked someone enough, do you think you would give opening up a shot?"

"I mean I guess. Nobody ever takes the time to...pry me open." That got a laugh out of Y/n. Good. "But yeah I do like someone."

Sitting up suddenly, Y/n became visibly excited.

"TELL ME WHO."

"No god no- it isnt important." Kenmas ears burned again.

"Come onnnnn. Its gotta be someone big time cool to earn your heart. I have to approve."

Y/n pulled Kenma from his chair to the bed, not letting go of his hand as he sat down.

"Theyre very cool- and very sweet. Understanding. Someone who stands up for me and makes me comfortable-" Kenma began gushing.

"Do I know them?" Y/n interrupted.

"Y-yeah. You sure do." Kenma scratched the back of his neck.

"Oooh ok, a guessing game. Describe them more- their looks!" Y/n held his hand tighter, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Well- ok." Kenma took a deep breath and decided he could be vague enough. "Theyre short. As short if not shorter than me. Competitive. Very cute smile-"

"TOO VAGUE give me the JUICY DETAILS" Y/n pushed.

"They uh- they have..pretty eyes." He was staring at this point, eyes wandering around Y/ns face to find more things to describe. "cute nose too I guess. Squishy cheeks. Glasse-"

"WHO THE HELL IS IT KENMA- its starting to sound like youre describing me." Y/n laughed.

"No- I'm totally not!" Kenma rushed.

"Tell this person you like them. You look so happy when you talk about them. Its kind of sickening."

"I can't just do that." Kenma stated flatly.

"Yeah you can."

"No-"

"DO ITTTT. Nothing to be scared of- it's CUTE. They would be dumb to not like you."

Kenma sighed, knowing he couldn't tell Y/n the truth about who he liked. What does he usually do when he's put in a corner like this? Oh thats right-

"Who do you like then Y/n?" He asked, proud of himself for deflecting again.

"Oh thats easy. You." Y/n said, letting go of his hand and laying back on the bed, leaving Kenma sitting up and stunned.

"What? No I mean a crush idiot. Who do you liiikkkeee?" Kenma pushed, hoping he didn't hear Y/n wrong.

"You, Kenma. I've had a crush since our first tie in a game. Thought that was obvious-"

Kenma flopped back on the bed as well. The both of them looking at each other.

"Oh. My person is uh... really... open and honest." Kenma said quietly.

"Is that why you wont tell them?" Y/n asked just as hushed.

"Yeah... what if right now they say yes but then their feelings change one day? That would hurt so bad. Worse than not telling them ever." He whispered.

There was silence. They knew what they both just admitted. Kenmas heart started racing. This might've fucked everything up. He might lose them. But they like him too so why is he so scared?

Y/n held his hand again.

"I know that youre scared because I'm so open...but hey... If you wanna give it a try..." Y/n whispered, scared about whether or not their honesty fucked them over.

"You might be right this time Y/n." Kenma whispered.

The space between them was closed due to both of them being drawn together like magnets in that moment. A sweet kiss.

"Let's try it then. I'll work on... being more open if you'd like." Kenma said.

"Kenma. I dont want you to change one bit. I like you the way you are."

Acceptance. It was the best thing Kenma has ever felt.

#kenma #kenma fic #kenma fluff #kenma gamer #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu fluff #harry styles golden lyric AHHHH

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stickyy · 4 years ago

Note

if it's not too much of a hassle,you can write about hawks with a SugarBaby (reader) because he's like a SugarDaddy BUUUT Instead of being the one who dominates,¿is the reader who does it? hawks only gives her money and gifts as payment for a little of your attention,hawks pays the reader to dominate it and pay for his company,if you step on his crotch he will surely thank you (femdom and ¿mommy kink?). I was thinking a lot about this dynamic and I found it VERY interesting,¿what do you think?.

warnings: sub!hawks degradation, findom, femdom, mommy!kink, cock stepping, spit kink, an instance of face slapping, hawks is a little bitch simp with a fat wallet, reader is kind of a bad bitch ngl

wordcount: 2340

notes: anon this is IT this is what im mf talking ABOUT!!!

PERFORMANCE

Keigo all about spectacle. Chaotic destruction in the pursuit of a villain, the dramatics of combat, blinding camera flashes, cacophonies of squealing fangirls, the sheer wealth that comes with the exclusivity of the top 10- he’s no stranger to the limelight. Popular for a reason, he’s young and powerful, deceivingly coy despite it all, and it drives the public wild. He has them in the palm of his hand. A playboy poster child, spectacle is his middle name, and he wears it well.

He gives you a different performance behind closed doors.

You’re working, finishing an uneventful shift at your dreadfully mundane day job. You’ve been counting down the hours, which, ironically, causes time to slow down. Scrolling through your social media feed, you just want to pass the time. You’re skimming an article about music when your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘heyyyy :)’

A grin spreads across your face. The number is unlisted, which is exactly why you know who it is. Excitement bubbles in your chest, the monotony of the day suddenly shattered. Keigo must be in town; he knows not to contact you unless he has something to show.

You check to make sure your read receipts are enabled, before staring at the message on the screen, not bothering to type a response. It’s a waiting game; you want him to work for it, to put on a show only for you.

Two whole minutes pass before you receive another.

‘i’m back in town tonight! :D’

You make no move, not yet appeased. It takes five minutes for him to cave:

‘can i see you?’

‘i need to see you’

‘missed you so much, mommy’

‘let me take you out to dinner? please?’

The prospect of a nice dinner outshines the takeout you were planning to order. A quick google search gives you a few options, and you decide on a steakhouse. They have wagyu, which you’ve been dying to try. Of course, coming in at $120 a steak, you hadn’t gotten a chance to yet.

You send him the link, along with a short message:

‘8 pm, wear something nice.’

He instantly responds with a ‘thank you mommy :)’. You can’t help the the giggle that comes out of your mouth.

Keigo takes you back to his place after dinner. You make a point to keep your red-bottomed heels on, the click-click of your stride setting the tone for the night. He slips into his role easily, taking your coat and purse (both gifts from him; $1,790 and $2,850, respectively) to hang up. You take your place on the plush couch in his living room, legs crossed as you lean back, thoroughly satisfied from your meal. You never pay, of course- you don’t even go out of your way to acknowledge the check, but you were able to sneak a peek at the tab, which came in at a whopping $459.85. You didn’t think that two people could spend so much on a meal, but Keigo always found a way to spoil you.

He comes back into the room with a bottle of wine that you had requested last time you saw him (1990 Château Haut Brion, $875; even you had to admit that was ridiculous), handing you a wine glass and pouring your drink. He moves to fill his own, but you stop him.

“I didn’t say that you were allowed to drink tonight,” it’s a casual statement, but your pleasure ignites at the slightly dejected look on his face as he closes the bottle. It’s such a contrast to how you see him in the press. He never stops performing, you know, but this act is different. His fans see his chest puffed and wings flared, you get to see him on a leash.

“Why don’t you come sit next to Mommy?” you offer, Keigo perks up, meeting your gaze as he moves to take a seat next to you on the couch.

“The floor,” you correct before he can do otherwise. His breath hitches and he hesitates for a moment, but he kneels next to you anyways. He’s so pretty beneath you. It minimizes him, his usually proud aura squandered from your elevated point of view. It doesn’t help that he loves it- loves slipping into his role of being lesser. It excites him, and that, in turn, spurs you on. You thread your free hand through his hair and he visibly relaxes, pressing into your palm as his wings unfold slightly. The two of you stay like that for the moment as you sip on your wine, the luxury made so much sweeter by the hero in your company.

“Did you miss me?” you break the silence with your question, tilting his head up toward you to make eye contact. He nods enthusiastically, subconsciously scooting closer to you.

“Yeah,” his voice is saccharine, gaze full of adoration, “couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Of course, you sick freak. You’re supposed to be off saving the world, and you’re thinking about the girl who won’t even fuck you if you don’t pay up first,” you tug on his hair roughly, causing him to hiss in pain. A grin graces his features despite the abuse.

“You know I can’t help it, you drive me crazy.”

He shifts, and you can see the outline of a bulge in his pants.

“You’re fucking kidding,” you scoff, “all I’ve done is play with your hair and you’re already hard?”

He’s so easy to fluster when he’s like this, willing and pliant in your hands. He nods again, always so unashamed in his perversion.

“I didn’t touch myself at all, like you told me to, and it’s been so long,” his eyes plead with you, slightly rocking his hips for any kind of relief. He wasn’t allowed to jerk off so long as he was seeing you.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re easy for it, baby. All it takes is a little affection to get you to empty your wallet. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

He whines quietly, pupils visibly dilating . “Yeah, I’m pathetic, just a slut for Mommy.”

With a hum, you set your glass down and uncross your legs. “Unzip your pants.”

He obeys, getting the zipper stuck twice in his haste. Cute.

You press the flat of your heel against the tent in his boxers. The moan he lets out is sinful, grinding up against you in search of any sign of relief.

“These heels are so nice, aren’t they? Probably one of my favorite gifts,” you reminisce, admiring the way the shiny leather contrasts against his skin. You can already see a wet spot forming on his boxers. “Do you remember how much they cost you?”

He’s lost in the sensation, too preoccupied to answer your question. You step down slowly, watching his face contort into one of pain, though the grinding doesn’t cease.

“Answer me, Keigo.”

“F-fuck, what was it, like $700?” his voice cracks, his breathing labored.

“Close enough. Aren’t you embarrassed, spending all that money on shoes just so you can rut against them?” your words send a shudder through his body. The act is starting to fade as he nears his orgasm, his playful exterior melting into one of desperation.

“I’m close, fuck I’m close,” Keigo almost sounds panicked, his hips desperately bucking in pursuit of his first release in a long time. You remove your heel abruptly, pouting at him. He lets out a pitiful gasp as the loss of sensation, a sob making its way out of his throat.

“You know what you have to do if you want to cum,” you say sternly, feigning disappointment. He jumps up, stumbling across the room for his jacket and reaching for his phone in the pocket. You notice his hands are shaking as he taps his screen a few times, before your phone chimes in its place next to you. You look over, and grin at the Cash App notification.

‘birdbrains🐤 sent you $1,430 for i love you mommy <3’.

“Holy shit, Kei, you’re that desperate to cum? If I didn’t know otherwise, I’d assume you can’t get anyone else to fuck you,” You’ve always made his pay before he touches you, but he’s never broken a grand for just an orgasm.

“Please, Mommy,” is all he gives. He’s already back at your feet.

You spread your legs, unable to contain your arousal at this point; seeing the winged hero so broken always sets a fire in your stomach. “Make Mommy feel good, and I’ll let you stuff that needy cock inside of me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He’s immediately between your legs, pulling your lacy panties to the side (one half of a custom made designer set, $650) and shoving his face between your thighs. He always eats you like his life depends on it, obscenely slurping on your gushing entrance. He’s good at it too, expert tongue on your clit, pushing two fingers inside and prodding at your velveteen insides, causing you to bury your hands in his hair to keep him in place. You moan loudly, not bothering to hold back your noises. This is always about your pleasure, and you make sure to remind him of that first and foremost. It’s not necessary, though; you're convinced that he’d go bankrupt if it meant he could have even an hour of your time. You can do anything to him, say anything to him, and it only drives him crazier.

To prove your point, you squeeze your thighs against his head, effectively suffocating him. He doesn’t let up- if anything, he begins to lick and suckle more enthusiastically, hands gripping your thighs tightly. You keep him there for a solid minute, watching him struggle in your grip. It’s enough to push you over the edge, and you shout as you grind against his face, riding out your first orgasm of the night. You let up, spreading your legs again and he gasps for air, tears flowing freely as he catches his breath.

“Thank you Mommy, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he huffs between gasps, face glistening with your juices. You grab his chin and lean down to give him a kiss, feeling him melt into you as he lets out a little moan. The taste of your arousal on his lips causes you to shiver in pure euphoria. You pull back but keep his chin in your hand, coaxing his mouth open before you spit, tilting his head back and watching your saliva slide down his throat.

“Good boy,” he perks at the praise, smiling despite himself.

“Go ahead and strip for me, and I’ll let you have that orgasm you want so bad,” you say as you stand, peeling yourself out of your dress. He obeys, albeit slowly as he’s more distracted watching you strip in front of him, eyes tracing your curves as you undo your bra and slide your panties down, opting to keep on the heels. You notice, but decide to let it slide this time. You gesture for him to sit and he obeys, grabbing your hips as you straddle his lap. His cock curves against his stomach, an angry red and damp with the obscene amount of pre dripping down his length.

“This looks like it hurts,” you lilt mockingly, gently running a finger up his length to gather some of his pre. You smear it on his lower lip, raw from your earlier abuse.

“It does, fuck- Mommy, please,” he’s back to begging, eyes misty, “Please let me fuck you Mommy, I promise I’ll make you cum again, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want-”

“Shh,” you stop his babbling, positioning yourself over him, “keep your hips still for me, okay?”

He nods, and you begin to sink onto his length, slowly.

He moans, eyelids fluttering as your gummy walls begin to constrict around his length. He struggles to keep himself from squeezing your hips and fucking up into you, but he manages in fear of a punishment. You take your sweet time before bottoming out, staying completely still. Keigo chokes on a sob, thighs quivering with the effort to stay put, and you watch him for just a moment longer, revelling in the sight. He’s flushed down to his chest, eyes lidded and pupils blown, skin dewy with sweat and tears and your slick, wings fluttering behind him.

If only his fans could see him now.

You take pity on him and start to move, allowing him to take your weight in his hands, bouncing you on his cock. It takes a lot of focus not to get lost in the sensation, squelching noises filling the empty air as your mind starts to blur, his cock rubbing against the spongy walls of your pussy. He’s nothing if not enthusiastic, moaning unabashedly, eyes trained on your face. He’s already close, but there’s a determination in his eyes that confuses you slightly; he has permission to cum after all. It’s when the blunt head of his cock hits something gooey inside of you that it makes sense; of course he’s making good on his promise to make you cum first. He’s a good boy, after all. It doesn’t take long, his hips jackrabbiting as he abuses that spot in you, forcing the pressure in your stomach to pull taut, and eventually snap. You cum with a squeal of his name, vision darkening as you watch him finish, stray tears flowing down his cheeks. You catch a few with your thumb and lick them up.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he’s breathless, but you can tell he’s not totally satisfied; it’s been weeks since he’s seen you, after all. He begins to roll his hips again, face scrunching in the sweet torture of overstimulation.

You land a firm slap on his cheek and he gasps, giving you a surprised look.

“You know what you have to do if you want another orgasm.”

The show goes on.

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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years ago

Text

Regrets // Victoria De Angelis

words // 1557

warnings // angst, mentions of abusive relationships (not details)

pairing // Victoria De Angelis x GN!Reader, Ethan Torchio x Platonic!Reader

author's note // taglist here. please only let me know if you want to be tagged on that google form so i know what to tag you on, thank you

I KNOW I MADE HER LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE BUT MY ANGSTY ASS NEEDED SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO BE ABLE TO WRITE THIS FIC SOOO... I LOVE VICTORIA, I DON'T THINK SHE'S AN ASSHOLE AND THE WHOLE I BULLY YOU MEANS I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU TROPE IS STUPID IN EVERY OTHER OCCASION BUT IN FANFICTION ITS FINE

also i changed the original tittle because i didnt like it that much

request // yes

summary // Reader is Ethan's best friend and because of that they are around the band a lot. Maybe a hint of jealously, a toxic partner and a visit at the hospital will be enough to change their relationship with Victoria from hate to love. Or maybe the love was there all along.

The first time the two met each other was right after the band finally united. Y/N’s had been Ethan’s best friend for years now, making the fateful meeting inevitable - as well as the obscure amount of time they would have to spend around each other. If anything, the drummer was attached to the hip with his best friend, tagging them along to every show, many rehearsals (there was even a suggestion to come with him on Måneskin’s European tour - it would be a nightmare if they did).

Victoria did not take long to adopt a defensive mode against them, one that not even she could decipher. Maybe it was the way they were just always there, like leech attached to her bandmate, or maybe it was that annoying way they dressed, all out there and attracting her attention, or maybe it was that stupid girlfriend of theirs that just had to make it known they were a couple. She really did get on Victoria’s nerves a awful lot. She was nice, not going to lie, just maybe a little too nice - ickly nice, she’d say. She wasn’t sure why but that girl simply made Victoria’s gut drop every time.

For years, as that relationship lasted, Victoria and Y/N would butt heads, always at each other’s throat with something to say and complain about. What are they doing here again, the bassist would ask over and over again. Just here to piss you off, Y/N would say, walking to Ethan. Other times it’d be the opposite. It just always was… a mess.

Everyone could see the situation the two found themselves into but no one could do anything. No, not until they opened their own damn eyes.

The dislike between the two only grew stronger and stronger as time passed by, with their insults getting worse. Truth be told, no one expected it to get that bad, and now they just hoped to stop.

For a while, Y/N was facing some drama in the relationship, some that could end up pretty bad. Not few were the nights Ethan would get a phone call in the middle of rehearsal, sobbing heard even beyond his phone. Please, please come get me Ethan. I don’t think …. The rest was inaudible for Victoria, not that I care, she would remind herself, moving on with her work.

On occasion she’d joke about it to Y/N. What? Trouble in paradise, cucciolo? Oh well. Deep down she knew she should not say that but she could not control herself. Y/N was pretty put together some of those times, others they’d just snap with no regard to anything. Just shut your fucking mouth, they said once adding a few profanities to explain their anger.

After the fourth time it happened the blonde had gotten genuinely angry. “Ok, enough. Close your phone, Ethan,” she spat out, almost snatching it off his hand. “They can wait.”

“But-”

“No! They have cut short three out of our four rehearsals this week! This is the fifth rehearsal, Ethan, their fourth time! They’re a big kid now, they should not need you all the time.”

In time she would regret those words but in that moment they seemed appropriate. She had grown exasperated at their constant interruptions. Well, most of the time they were not really disturbing - they’d call on a break or just cuddle with Ethan on a break, at a time they had for the solemn reason of relaxing - but Victoria would not admit that. Not to herself and not to anyone.

“Ok.” Ethan whispered the words, silencing his phone with a heavy heart. He had a bad feeling, that he knew for sure, but he did not feel like fighting with the blond bassist.

The hours they worked passed by quickly, feeling more like quick moving water, their session was simply flowing. It was now quiet, maybe around three in the morning. 2.58 AM read the clock on the table. Ethan was sure his best friend was sleeping by now. He’d shoot them a text and then go to sleep as well - lord knows he needed it. Well, not everything always goes as planned.

Victoria was by him when it happened.

His phone started to ring while he was about to walk to his room. Y/N. If he was not concerned earlier that night there was no way he was not now. It was not common for them to call at hours like this, if anything they were usually asleep by eleven, maybe even twelve.

“Pronto. Che? A- cazzo, sì, sì. Sto venendo ora.” showing off my italian lol

“Ethan? What happened?” She was not sure of her feelings in that instant. Why was she even asking him? She did not care about them, right? But no, no, it was not worry. It was fear of guilt. And worry, but that she was not aware of.

“Y/N is at the hospital,” he breathed out, “they- uhm… Their ex hurt them - thank god their neighbor was there and heard what happened. Oh my- if-if-if he was not there Y/N-”

Victoria could not stand seeing her friend like that. She believes that she’s never once seen Ethan this emotional - not negatively emotional, that is. He always keeps his composure so well but this time it just was not possible. The blonde just stood there now, holding Ethan in her arms, whispering comforting things to him, hoping that he’d calm down a bit.

“I-I should’ve answered the phone Vic… It- I could have prevented this. Oh god, it’s my-”

“Ethan no! If it’s anyone’s fault here, it’s mine. I should not have snapped like I did.”

“I- yeah. Yeah, you know what, yeah, it is your fault.” He was sad, he was anxious, he was angry… A whirlwind of emotions really, and Victoria’s statement made him target it to her. “It is your fault Vic, with that-that stupid, stupid, conflict you two have. I’m leaving.”

“Where are yo-”

“To the hospital! Where the fuck else?” Ethan’s voice was rising by the second, as his blood started boiling in his veins. He knew he could not drive there, but he was not about to say it.

“I’ll drive you-”

“No. I can do it on my own.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” Victoria’s eyes were cast to the floor, unsure of what else to do. She knew that things were taken too far this time, the least she could do was drive her friend to the hospital.

The drive there was quiet. Neither knew what to say. Victoria was feeling guilty, afraid, and even worried about Y/N’s well-being, regardless of whether she could she tried to focus on the road. More injured people would not be helpful. Ethan on the other hand was fuming. He was angry out of his head; at his blonde friend, at himself and most of all that bitch, Y/N’s ex. She was the one to cause all of this, all of it, even problems he was not aware she was the cause of.

As they arrived there there was even more trouble on their way. He’s not family, he’s not a spouse, neither is Victoria. It was always like that. They would not let them pass if they were not either of those things but, god bless that man, the nurse that called him showed up, recognizing the voice and assuring the nurse, on the front, that he was indeed the only person on their emergency contacts, they had to pass. With a lot of complaining they were finally let to pass.

When they walked in the room Y/N was laying on the bed asleep and at first both their minds went to the worst case scenario. “I have given them some painkillers for now. They’ll be ok but some injuries cause severe pain -” he was walking outside along with Ethan.

Victoria was now left alone in the room with Y/N, although it felt as if she was looking at a photo of them rather than the real life Y/N. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, the only thing that felt right to do at that moment. “It’s my fault -oh my it is! Ethan, he-he wanted to respond to the call by I-I got so angry!” She cried out, now grasping Y/N’s hand. “I can only hope he can forgive me. Hell, I hope you forgive me. It’s my fault you’re-”

“It’s not, Victoria.”

“You are awake?”

“It’s not your fault. I was already here when I called the first time. Neither of you could have changed a thing.” They were so calm - maybe it was the painkillers, she thought. “Thank you. For the apology I mean.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry for everything Y/N. I-”

“Hey, stop! It’s ok. What’s by is by,” they laughed, never missing the opportunity to joke. (you know, bi - by… terrible pun)

“I, uh,” she paused, thinking of what to say next. She remembered a small chocolate bar in her pocket. She was about to eat it when the call happened. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to eat chocolate but I know you like it.”

“Oh my, it’s my favorite,” they gushed, prompting Vic to come closer.

“Come, sit, sit! We can share it.”

“Yeah, I guess we can.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost @superchrystaldrug

#måneskin #måneskin imagine #måneskin fanfic #måneskin x reader #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis imagine

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.05

10/28/2020

Preparations

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 6,652

Warnings: angst, slight smut?, language, fluff

A/N: Thank you everyone, for putting up with my emotional ass. After some thought, and when I was feeling better and not so sad (?), I really didn’t wanna make those of you keeping up with the story wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one and if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other blogs or sites.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is lively with beautiful Asgardians rushing about their daily lives. In the time since it’s completion, New Asgard and its inhabitants have settled into a routine. New lives on a planet now once again full of growth, community interaction, and celebration when the time is right.

“We’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.” Brunnhilde says, reaching forward to tap the shoulder of the man driving you both. “Stop here.”

“Wait, aren’t you coming with me?” You ask, startled as she throws open the back door of the sleek black sedan.

“No. I have other things to prepare for the wedding and then I have to check in on my Valkyrie. Your escorts will meet you at the shop.” Brunnhilde assures you.

“But-”

“Bye!” She smiles at you and slams the door in your face.

You sit there, confused and at a loss. Your anxiety begins to mount when the driver, a handsome young Asgardian man with long braided black hair, clears his throat and draws your attention to the front.

“Shall I drive on Your Highness?” He asks, glancing in his rearview mirror at you.

“Um…” You’ll never get used to that stupid your highness stuff. “Yes.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

“Can’t you just call me, Y/N?” You ask, feeling awkward.

“No.” He says, a smile on his face. “I cannot. I can see why his Majesty has chosen you.”

You’re surprised by this statement, and you’re pretty sure it’s insolent maybe? You don’t know because this is all new to you, but you don’t really care either way.

“Why?”

“You don’t remember me?” He asks, as he drives down the street.

As they pass, the Asgardians stop in their walking or talking or errand running to watch you drive by. Some of them smile with excitement, even moving with the car a few steps before stopping.

They’re all dressed normal. Asgardian garb abandoned to fit in on Earth. Not all of them. Some still wear their own clothes. Some of them wear a mixture of both. It’s a mish-mash of two cultures and you understand the need for a human Queen a little more.

“No.” You shake your head, giving the driver your full attention.

“I didn’t think you would.” He admits, smiling still. “You were very nervous when I first drove you up to the palace. Quite literally shaking in your pretty shoes.”

Was he your driver then too?!

“Alas, I understand his Majesty’s choice because you were the only woman that sat in my car and spoke to me. You may not have been aware enough to remember me, but you were very kind. Very concerned about me despite the stress you were in.” He looks in his rearview mirror again, meeting your eyes. “My wife gave birth, by the way.”

“Oh!” Your mind is struck with an unfocused conversation, hazy but you remember the pregnant wife. “I remember!”

You’re way too excited about remembering and the driver chuckles.

“Was it a boy or a girl?” You ask eagerly.

“A girl.” He smiles. “We’ve named her Luta.”

“Congratulations!” You exclaim gently, so happy for him.

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll tell my wife you said so.” He promises.

“I’d love to meet her.” You hope, leaning forward to get a better look at the side of his face.

“I’m not sure that will be possible. You’ll be terribly busy, and my wife is also with our little girl.”

“What if I came to pay her a special visit?” You really want to meet her.

“If you could find the time, Your Highness, my wife and I would be happy to receive you.” He smiles.

“I’m sorry if you told me last time we met, but what is your name?”

“Armod, Your Highness.” He tells you, turning down a second and smaller street.

The people are still dense, gathered around stalls and smaller shops as Armod drives a little slower to keep a careful eye on the families attending what must be an early morning market.

You take it in as quickly as you can, devouring the sight of these beautiful people and in return they turn to watch you go by.

They turn to each other, have quick and silent—to you—exchanges before a few of them begin to turn and wave.

Nervous, you wave timidly, smiling because you can’t help it. It isn’t a conscious decision.

The side street is so packed with stalls that it makes it impossible for people to follow the car at the speed it’s going, even reduced.

You’re a little grateful. You don’t want to get mobbed without someone else here to dilute the excitement.

“The people are very excited to see their future Queen.” Armod explains, “Forgive them their exuberance.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

As the crowd thins out, and Armod pulls the car into a gentle stop, he shakes his head, “Trust me, Your Highness, you won’t.”

Your car door opens. Into your view slides a pale white hand, luxurious suit jacket sleeve barely hiding the equally expensive white button-up underneath.

“Your Highness,” greets a familiar voice.

Taking his hand, Loki pulls you from the car, helping you stand and even reaching down to adjust the long train of your right sleeve.

The dress is sparkling blue, a body-hugging gold silk dress underneath the top sheer voile blue layer on top. The right sleeve is long, ends at your wrist, with a train that flows down at an equal length to that of your skirt. The left side is sleeveless.

You’re nervous about the deep V of your bodice, the scrunched-up shoulders of your dress carefully balanced there but too precarious for your liking.

With he sun out, the chill in the air isn’t so bad, but here in the shade of what must be the bridal shop, you shiver.

“You look lovely.” Loki smiles.

“I look stupid.” You counter, feeling very exposed and not at all pretty with how tight the dress feels.

“Allow me to politely disagree.” Loki takes your hand and leads it around his elbow as become aware of the people gathering around to catch a look at you. “I think the crowd would agree with me.”

“Can we go inside, please?” You beg, waving at the small group as other begin to flock from their spots at distant stalls to join the crowd.

“Of course.” Loki taps your hand then escorts you into the shop.

You relax a little once you’re inside and warm.

A middle-aged looking woman moves towards the two of you, her hand subtly stroking a large fold of crimson fabric on the low center shelf before she reaches you and then dips into a low curtsy before rising and grabbing her hands to hold at chest level.

“Good morning, your Highnesses!” She exclaims, gushing to an embarrassing degree.

“Good morning, Gorm. How are you?” Loki asks politely.

He doesn’t seem truly interested in her answer, but he waits kindly while she flusters with the honor of his polite concern.

“I am much better now that you and our King Thor’s lovely intended have arrived. Such an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” She says, addressing you directly.

“Thank you.” You reply, startled by her a bit. “It’s so great to meet you.”

“Tell me, Gorm, have you received His Majesty’s instructions on the dress we’d like?” Loki checks.

“Oh, yes, Your Highness! I’ve been working non-stop on several options since I received them.” She assures him, gesturing back towards a doorway past a long wooden counter with a modern cash register and signature pad for credit cards.

“Excellent.” Loki smiles. “Now, while I hate to do this to you, love—do you think you can handle a few hours alone with Gorm to do your fitting?”

“You’re leaving?” You ask, once again shocked, just like with Brunnhilde.

“I’m afraid I have several other things to do for the wedding and with the Earth and Asgardian ambassadors eager to have the wedding as soon as possible, I have to take every chance I can get to run these errands. Not like I have anything better to do…” Loki’s voice is slightly bitter, but only for a moment before he taps your hand again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back long before you’re finished. Gorm doesn’t leave anything to chance with her gowns and this one is the most important one you will wear in your life. We have to get it right, don’t we Gorm?”

Gorm is already nodding, her blonde graying hair flowing like waves across her shoulders as she does. “Oh, yes, Your Highness. I will make sure that not only will the dress fit His Majesty’s expectations, but you too shall feel beautiful and like the dress was made just for you, Your Highness.”

“There you are.” Loki smiles. “I’ll be back.”

He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before letting it go and moving towards the door, leaving you and Gorm to stand awkwardly for a few moments after the door shuts behind him.

“Shall we?” She gestures back towards the doorway and since there’s no way to get out of this, you fix her with a nervous smile and nod.

“Yes.” You sigh, and follow her, making sure to hold onto the counter as your round it so that you don’t trip on your train.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stomach absolutely growling, you slip your arms through the sleeves of the dress you’ve pretty much settled on.

The past five hours have had you step in and out of two other dresses three times, and this one a total of eight times. Each time so that Gorm can make alterations to length and cut and detail.

It’s surprising to you that this particular dress should need so much maintenance when it’s the simplest of the bunch.

You’d fallen for it almost at first sight but had tried the other two more frilly dresses to appease Gorm since Thor had requested something feminine to counteract the armor you’d be wearing on the day.

Armor you had no idea would be required in your wedding until Gorm explained the necessity for bodices without much flair.

“Alright, Your Highness,” Gorm smiles at you, holding the dress low and open for you to step through. “Once more, and then I think we are done.”

You let her slip the dress over you, layer after layer of smooth satin with one final crepe layer on top. The dress is eggshell white, soft, and easy on the eye.

Some white fabrics nearly burn your retinas, but this one is pleasant to look at.

It stops just around your shoulders, leaving them exposed. The neckline curves down with your bust just a little making the top look like a heart, the point of which is followed all the way down with a line of stitched white buttons.

They’re purely decorative because behind you is where Gorm stands to zip the dress closed.

She closes a small clasp and then folds out the layers of skirt around you.

It’s not as long as the blue dress you wore here today. Simpler and easier to walk in. The sleeves themselves are long, which you appreciate very much in this weather. Every bit of the dress now settles along your curves just right.

“Oh, this was the right choice, I think.” Gorm smiles wide. “You look beautiful, Your Highness. His Majesty is a very lucky man.”

You smile in return, flattered by her words for a moment because you forget that Thor has been with Jane all morning. As you remember, your smile falters then fades as the worries you had this morning come rushing back.

“You don’t like it?” Gorm asks, reaching down to stroke the long and beautiful skirt.

“Oh, no. I love the dress, Gorm. I’m just…worried about His Majesty liking it.” You smile at her, to reassure her. She’s done such amazing work. You might have her make all of your gowns from now on. Unless…?

“Gorm? Were you the one that made the dress I came in wearing today?” You wonder.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m afraid I did not have that pleasure.”

“How much of an imposition would it be if I made you my sole dressmaker? His Majesty has bought me some gowns to wear when appropriate, but I don’t feel like they’re my style.”

“Oh, Your Highness! It would be an honor to be your personal dressmaker!” She’s so flustered that she excuses herself and vanishes into the front of the shop to get her water.

You turn your gaze onto yourself in the mirror, all three angles looking back at you.

The dress really is unbelievably beautiful. You would never have thought that this dress and its style would have looked good on you, but it fits around your curves so seamlessly. This dress was literally made for you and it’s very noticeable.

As you turn around one final time, a small chuckle from the doorway pulls your eyes away from your reflection.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t put up such a fight over this.” Loki moves towards you, stopping a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should have seen me wrestle with the other two.” You sigh. “Can we go? I’m so hungry.”

Almost as if on cue, your stomach growls.

“Yes.” Loki nods. “We can go. I’ve got lunch waiting for you back in the palace.”

“Is Thor back?” You hop off the box you’d been standing on, grabbing your skirts and then dropping them to cascade around your legs like a milky waterfall.

Loki’s smile falter. “I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, he’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

You’re so disappointed you wander away from him into the dressing room to change back into your blue dress without giving him any sort of answer.

He’s got you in the car, your forehead resting against the glass of the window, lost in thoughts of Thor and Jane when he speaks to you again.

“Might I ask you a favor, sister?” He probes gently.

Him calling you his sister makes your stomach tumble.

You have a brother! How can you ever explain this happiness?

“Sure.”

“I hope you don’t find me insolent, but-” He hesitates, thinking about the words he’s about to say hard before he meets your eyes and that seems to strengthen his resolve. “Don’t fall in love with Thor. Not yet. Don’t let him pull you in right away.”

“You think he’ll leave me for Jane?” You wait, watching as Loki thinks through your accusation.

“Not exactly, but yes. I suppose that’s a possibility I hope you can avoid.”

For a few minutes while Armod drives you back to the palace, you say nothing. You consider his request and the honest concern that he seems to have for you.

As Armod pulls into the large multi-car garage at the back of the palace, you turn to Loki and stare sadly.

“I can’t make that promise, Loki.” You shrug. “It’s already too late for that.”

“You love him?” Loki realizes.

“No!” You deny, “Not exactly. I don’t love him yet, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very fond of him already. He-he kissed me last night.”

Loki’s brow furrows.

“A lot actually. He begged me to try and love him just as he would try to love me. I promised him I would try.” As if you’ll need to try.

You’re already hopelessly possessive over him. Maybe not him as a person, but rather those kisses he gave you. Those are your kisses now. Those thick arms he held you in, those are your arms—your hugs!

And now he might be in the United States giving those very things that are now yours alone to Jane who wouldn’t even marry him?

“It’s too late.” You reiterate, feeling absolutely lost.

“Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get you a late lunch.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If there isn’t a trail across your floor after all of the pacing you’ve done today, you’d be surprised.

“This won’t make him come back any faster.” Brunnhilde points out.

“Do I really have to model the wedding dress for him?” You ask, twisting your fingers nervously as you move up and down your room.

“I think it would be good for him.” Brunnhilde explains. “And yes. He won’t see your armor until the day of the wedding, but the dress will help make it more real for him. He needs that. So do you.”

“It’s already real for me Brunnhilde.” You lift your thumb nail to your teeth and nip, like a nervous pup, stopping at the heavy doors of the balcony.

They’ve been thrown open and the chilly air filtering in makes you shiver.

“Hilde.” Brunnhilde corrects, then moves to take a long wine-colored woolen shawl and drapes it over your shoulders as you stare out at the bustling city.

You can hear laughter, lots of merrymaking. The Asgardian people know how to enjoy their free time, but you’ve seen how hard they work too. As a whole. Loki assured you on the way home that there are just as many lazy time wasters among them as there are humans.

“Why are you fretting?” She sits at the desk, staring up at you with curious dark eyes.

“Because he’s been with Jane all day.” You lash out.

It’s not a scream, just pure exasperation. And immediately, you feel sorry.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh, dropping your hand but pulling the shawl around you tighter.

You notice it finally.

“Oh, thank you.” You really feel bad now.

“You’re acting like you’re already in love with him.” She teases, not caring one bit about your little tantrum.

Through the corners of your eyes you look at her, avoiding her piercing look.

“Y/N…?” She wonders, leaning forward to get a better look at you.

“I don’t love him, alright? I just…” You sigh. “No one’s ever kissed me before.”

Your feel your neck and ears burn, scorching with embarrassment as you admit just how much of a maiden she’d found for him.

“So, you really are a virgin?” She gasps, leaning almost her entire body along the desk to look at your face.

You frown at her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No.” She hakes her head. “No, not at all. You’re just so…well, you’re beautiful.”

The laugh that slips through your lips is sudden and honest.

You stare at her, shaking your head because you don’t believe her one bit.

“I’m serious!” Hilde assures you, smiling and amused by your reaction. “It’s a little bit of a shame that you haven’t been fawned on before.”

The sprinkle of sadness in her voice exposes her real meaning and it wipes away all traces of flattery.

“You mean, it’s a shame that I haven’t been with someone who will really love me because they choose to? And not like Thor because he has to?” With a bit more desperation, you look for Armod’s car, needing to see Thor.

Everything that happened last night feels like a dream. Made up in your mind to make it easier to marry Thor. Was it a dream?

You don’t remember him telling you goodnight. You have the vague memory of falling asleep with your head on his shoulder but you’re not sure how real that is with how hazy it feels.

What if his kisses had been a hopeful wish?

You bite your bottom lip, the heat and weight of his lips still fresh in your memory.

It can’t have been a dream. It felt so amazing. You could never have imagined the way it felt for him to invade you the way he did, pulling your body against his.

“He doesn’t come by car, y’know?” Hilde says, sitting back in her seat.

“What?” You turn to her, eager for explanation.

“Thor?” She gestures at the sky outside, drawing your eyes away from the city in the distance and up to the stars. “He flies here on Earth. It’s faster than flying by plane, but not by much. He’ll be going straight to his room as soon as he gets back.”

“Oh.” Your disappointment is suffocating and because you have no reason to keep freezing to death, you close the balcony doors.

With the cold shut out the heat from the hidden vents in your room saturates your shawl and envelopes you in a cocoon of heat.

“He might not want to see me tonight.” You accept, knowing that even if things went as best as they could have, Thor will still be heartbroken.

Having to give up on a relationship he had been so invested in? Even if he’s been unhappy with it lately, it must be difficult.

“No. He might not. But he has no choice. The wedding is in three days, so we have no time to wait for him to be ready to see you. We need approval on the dress.” She explains, leaving no room for argument.

Which is a shame because you would rather not see him all torn up about Jane. Not that you wouldn’t like to give him comfort. But you doubt that seeing you is something Thor would want. Not when it’s your fault that he has to break up with Jane to begin with.

“You know what? I’ll go check to see if he’s back. Gorm already sent us the dress. I’ll have Estrid help you put it on.” Hilde rises, moving out of the room without waiting for you to agree.

Five minutes later, Estrid moves into the room, her arms cradling your beautifully crafted wedding dress.

“Shall I do your hair too, Your Highness?” She asks, and lays the dress on your bed, the color such a beautiful contrast to the deep plum colored sheets.

“My hair?” You look in the mirror and the fancy thing they’d done with it this morning is falling apart. “No. I’m okay, Estrid. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Highness.” She smiles kindly then moves towards you and takes your shawl.

You turn for her and she begins to unzip your blue dress, your mind on Thor and the mood he might be in when you see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

The hesitation is in more than just your fist, hovering over the dark wooden of Thor’s bedroom door. It’s tall. Taller than it probably needs, sitting within a stone arch decorated with stunning golden engravings.

You’re not sure why Brunnhilde left you to do this alone. Loki is busy with something secret that he doesn’t want to share with you yet.

Not wedding related. He says it’s important and it involves you to some degree, but it’s not necessary for you to know until it’s necessary for you to know. Which is a circle-jerk kind of logic that you’re kind of annoyed by.

He’s nicer than previous opinions of him have made him seem. You suppose that has to do with the growth he’s made since he was last on Earth.

New York hadn’t been a great time for Loki, and he could only go up from there.

Brunnhilde had also neglected to tell you how Thor was feeling. Or looking? Either would have been great before you committed to coming up here on your own.

Thor’s bedroom is at the highest point of the palace. That is, highest save for the last floor which is mostly a defense tower full of weapons and a constant guard to keep Thor and his future wife safe. Which is now gonna be you.

Unless you go into his room and he tells you that he can’t stand being without Jane and rejects you and this pretty dress and you have to go back home to live just as you had before you met him. Only now with his kisses in your mind, his massive body pressed to yours, you won’t be able to get over the future you’d been promised.

How had you gone from refusing to marry him to wanting nothing more than to be his wife and even if all he was able to give you was one of those stupid kisses from last night, you’d be satisfied?

You drop your hand, almost with your mind made up to give up and just go back to your room because you don’t think you have the nerve to go through with seeing him today.

The part of you that disagrees, that remembers last night and wants more lifts your hand and knocks on his door.

In shock, you wait until his voice comes through and finally take a breath.

“Estrid? Is that you?” Thor’s voice sounds tired, not broken, but you can hear the weight in his heart by the sound of him.

You open the door and peek in, just one eye and the room is astoundingly beautiful.

If you weren’t so scared of what you’ll find in Thor, your jaw would drop ant the stunning image. To the left are two doorways, one is open, and you can see a large bathroom within. At the center of the room is what looks like a small kiddie pool, recessed into the floor, but probably deep enough for Thor to stand in?

There’s a part on this floor that’s shaped strangely from the outside and wonder if that’s what it is. The floor is dark stone tile, smooth and probably treated for waterproofing. Along the far wall of the bathroom, you can see a long wooden bench, dark oak like all of the other woods in the room from what you can see.

The toilet must be somewhere to the left where you can’t see from where you stand.

The other door is shut but since there is only an ornate set of drawers to the right of it, you assume that inside must be a large closet.

To the right of the room is a large bed. Large bed. You’ve never seen one so big.

It must be a California King? Which you’d stumbled upon in your search for mattresses when you’d first moved into your home. An accidental find and completely unnecessary.

That is, until now, when the thought of Thor laying in your very normal sized bed flits across your mind and suddenly the large King makes much more sense.

The bed is covered in soft looking gray flannel sheets. The comforter is gorgeous too, luxurious in its cotton ball soft appearance. Black with golden swirls and lines stitched across the top and bottom. The number of pillows is silly. All sizes too. Large ones at the very back and then several smaller ones until the ones at the very front are for mere decoration only.

Despite the more rustic look of the walls in the dark oak and stone base, the bed and furniture is slightly more modern in design. The headrest is cream white, ridged, and padded, as is the foot of the bed, but flatter than the headrest.

Two bedside tables hold various books on one and a lamp on the other. Behind the bed is a wall with a great big tree carved, flowing the length from top to bottom.

You swear you’ve seen that somewhere before.

The entirety of the wall opposite the doors to the room is made up of windows. Each window has been thrown open and the floor to ceiling curtains flow in the cool breeze.

They avoid the small breakfast table, laden with an untouched plate of the chicken you’d had for supper. On the other side is a large heavy looking desk. It’s sturdy. Big like Thor with papers and scrolls and folders. A laptop sits shut at the center and in the chair turned to face the left side of the room sits Thor with his shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, hands supporting his face as he keeps it covered.

His body tells you everything you need to know about how he’s feeling and though you hate it, after so much worrying about what you’d find in here, you’re grateful to finally set eyes on him.

“It’s not Estrid.” You say gently, afraid to speak any louder and disturb him more than he already is.

His head whips towards you, faster than you expected.

Your hands go numb with nervous energy as he stares at you, his electric blue eyes scanning you very slowly from head to toe, then back up again. He takes his hand as he does so, covering his mouth with it, stroking his beard slowly as if fixing it.

Taking the opportunity, you note the plain jeans he’s wearing, the white t-shirt that stretches across his wide chest and strains to keep him covered. The hem of his sleeves struggle to keep his biceps contained. His golden hair is windswept, short as it is, it sticks in all directions.

He looks so good, so perfect, except for that sadness on his face.

You can’t bear to ask him anything about her.

“Gorm is lovely.” You tell him, forcing a smile and a quick nod.

He meets your eyes with his own, dropping the hand he’d used to shield his mouth and allows both his hands to dangle between his knees.

“She’s the best in the city.” Thor nods, devouring your dress again.

He suddenly rises and you teeter backwards with the sudden rise.

He steps towards you, his feet falling heavy on the floor.

You really like the way he struts towards you. There’s a slight sway to his hips.

Lips feeling dry and cracked, you freeze as he moves past you at the last moment.

The sound of him sitting on his bed pulls you around to look at him and he sighs, reaching his right arm up towards you.

With a swallow, you move towards him. The luscious short train of your skirt follows in your wake, flowing like water.

When you’re within reach, his places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer until you’re standing before him. He takes his other hand and places that on your waist too, making your breath shallow.

He looks up to meet your gaze.

Hands balled into fists; you wait. You’re not sure what he needs. What you need from this moment. You’re only sure that you’re glad you don’t seem to have dreamed up last night.

“You look beautiful.” He says, voice penetrating into your chest to restart your heart at double the speed.

“It’s a little simple.” You observe, remembering the other much frillier options.

“It suits you.” He lets his hand trace down along the side of your hip, stealing your breath before sliding his hand back up to your waist.

He gives you a little shake and you reach out to place your hands on his shoulders to keep from losing your already fragile balance.

“Brunnhilde told me that you were very anxious today.” He sounds worried, his brow puckered, eyes crinkled at the corners from concern.

You shrug for him, intending to play off the exact amount of worrying you’d done today because you don’t want him to know how invested you already are.

“I ended it with Jane.”

“You don’t have to-” You begin, but Thor makes a dismissive noise in his throat and cuts you off.

“I owe you an explanation.” He nods. “When I gave you that ring on your finger, I became your intended. Officially ending things with Jane was only out of respect for who we were when we were together.”

“Thor you really don’t have to tell me about your breakup with Jane. It’s private. It’s before me. Whatever happened between the two of you today is now in the past.” You sigh, trying not to think about what kisses might have been shared.

Maybe more?

You make a mental note to never hold it against him if he ever tells you that he slept with her today.

He was hers long before you agreed to marry him.

“I want to be honest with you.” He sighs. “I want us to be open with each other. I want us to talk about anything that may be troubling us.”

“We will.” You nod, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “I promise.”

“Then tell me what you were worried about today.”

You already regret your promise.

“I thought about what you must be feeling. Wondered if you might change your mind.” Answering honestly is actually cathartic. Though you usually do it on reflex, choosing to do it feels nice.

Thor only watches you, waiting for you to get it all out, his large hands caressing the sides of your waist and making you tingle.

“Keep going.” He urges you gently.

“I’m embarrassed.” You admit, and Thor’s face relaxes a moment, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

He doesn’t prompt you again, just waits.

There’s a peace in this silence of his. An acceptance. A sense of time to just be.

“I was afraid that I’d imagined last night. I don’t remember falling asleep. I just woke up and it was this morning. And last night was so…” You stop, realizing that as much as you’ve thought about last night today, for Thor if there are any kisses that he wants to hold onto today, they’re probably from Jane.

This fact suddenly hardens your heart and resolve. You reach to grab his wrists to pull his hands off of you, but he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t move him if you pushed as hard as you can.

“It doesn’t matter.” You brush it off. “You probably want to just be alone and I was told that you need to approve the dress? So, tell me what you think, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Have I upset you?” He asks, face shifted back into that slight pout he’d been wearing before.

“N-No.” You shake your head.

“Then why do you want to leave so quickly?” He demands, voice rising in pitch at the end.

“I just…after today, I just thought that maybe you’d want some space?”

“Then you aren’t angry with me?” He checks.

“No.”

He leans forward and presses his head against your stomach, eyes shutting as his arms wrap themselves around you and pull you closer.

You don’t quite know what to do with your hands, so you stand there, holding them over his shoulders, fighting the desire to hold him back.

“I’m so tired.” He admits to you, and it settles in your heart.

You drop your arms, resting them against him before you embrace him, hands splayed along his wide back.

He exhales, relaxing against you. “Thank you.”

“For what, Thor?” You whisper, too overcome with all this hugging to speak any louder.

“For hugging me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and you hold him tighter.

“May I be honest with you about something?”

“Yes.” Here it is, the truth about Jane and him today.

“These moments with you have been the most enjoyable and special moments I’ve spent with anyone in a long time.”

Does it really matter if he slept with Jane today? Kissed her? Hugged her?

Was he this sweet with her too?

“I love you in this dress.”

You sigh, the first three words of that declaration sending your heart into a frenzy.

“You do?”

“I do.”

You smile, liking that very much.

Thor’s blue eye shifts with electricity, literally, and he pulls you down onto his lap with a demanding grip on your waist.

Your arm is still around his shoulder, the other moving down to rest over his hand which he brings around to rest on your lower belly.

“Are you happy?” He wonders, catching your fingers within his.

“Relatively.” You nod. “I’m still worried.”

Honestly, right?

“Why?” He laments, caressing your waist.

“I’m liking you more and more too quickly.” You sigh. “I don’t want to disappoint you or the people. I want to do well. Both in our marriage and with the kingdom.”

Thor caresses your side, then slides his hand down further, large hand sliding along the fabric of your dress down over your thigh.

There’s a subtle tickle between your legs. It startles you and you have to physically force yourself to relax.

“You’re already better than anyone else I might have chosen.” Thor whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are pressed to your ear.

You remind yourself that you made him promise not to do anything he doesn’t want to do. No forcing himself to be affectionate if he doesn’t feel it.

“Thor…” You gasp, just a flurry of the air left in your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking…�� He admits. “Since I left you last night, about how we might be able to prepare for our wedding night.”

How do you breathe again? Where does the air go?

“Do you trust me, cherub?”

That pet name hits you just as fiercely as it did the first time and all you can do is nod.

Thor suddenly throws you back over his arm onto the bed. Landing with your head on the pillow, you gasp, chest rising and falling dramatically as you struggle to catch your breath again.

He leans down and hovers over you, waiting as you do, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll make certain you know this is not a dream.” He promises, then leans down to press his lips against yours.

You sigh, grateful for his taste as if it were a drug, removing an ache you’ve been feeling all day. Your arms come up on their own, trapping his torso down on yours as his hands trace your sides slowly.

This time you’re the one seeking more, pressing the tip of your tongue against his lips until he opens them and kisses you back.

He inhales your kiss, breathing in until you hear the vibration of a moan rip through him into you and you have never felt your body burn this way before.

You want him to make more sounds like that. Over and over if possible.

He pulls away too quickly, making you lift your head to follow him, but you fall back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

“Do you really trust me?” Thor checks again, his hands moving down along your sides until they stop at your hips, hands flexing and squeezing.

You’re shifting on his sheets, body squirming from energy you don’t recognize.

You know that he probably needs to be close to someone like this after today. After whatever he lost with Jane, even if he won’t let you see just how much it really hurt him, he probably needs this closeness.

“Yes.” You breathe.

With one hand he reaches down, staring into your eyes as he does. He finds the bottom hem of your dress and flips his hand underneath, then takes hold of your ankle.

He turns to face your feet, sliding down to the end of the bed then removes the flats you’d switched into, along with the thick socks you’d found to fight the cold.

It’s so chilly in here you shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long, cherub.” He promises.

After dropping your shoes on the floor, he rises then crawls onto the bed to where your feet are, grabbing hold of your ankles to pull your legs open a little.

“Easy.” He tells you gently. “You’ll still be a maid on our wedding night. This will be just a taste.”

He flips your skirt over his head, disappearing from view.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, curious and just as nervous until you feel the pressure of something wet slide up along your slit and you throw your head back, an uncontrollable moan ripping through your lips.

You hadn’t realized the taste would be for him.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #marvel fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x you #king!thor x you #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt05

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purrincess-chat · 3 years ago

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Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH28

What does Chloe have in store for Marinette? Find out next week! As I stated on AO3, once I post chapter 30, I’m going to take another month off to let my betas finish up the last few chapters, then in October if we are all finished, I will be posting two chapters a week on Mondays and Fridays to finish this story out. It’s been a long journey rewriting it, but I’m much happier with the outcome this time. I hope you’re all excited to see the rest of the changes to this story. I know I can’t wait to share them!

Previous First Next AO3

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Chapter 28: End Game

Morning light streamed through the window, casting golden rays across Marinette’s cheeks. The urgent screech of her alarm blared on the shelf above her head, vibrating the loft in its tantrum. She blinked, then immediately squeezed her eyes shut again, sitting up out of the sun. Kicking the blankets from around her legs, she palmed for her phone, clumsily tapping the screen with a yawn. Sleep had eluded her most of the night for more reasons than one, and the previous day’s events replayed on loop as she slogged through her morning routine.

Had all of it really happened? The museum, her old friends, the akuma, Emerald Shell, Lila… And she’d gone to Chloe of all people for help. When had she fallen so low? And how long did Marinette have to be on this rollercoaster? Wasn’t there an emergency exit she could use?

She splashed water on her face, leaning against the sink with a sigh. Not all of it was bad at least. She and Adrien got to spend the evening together, though the sweetness diminished as a result of the afternoon’s events. Even still, there were worse ways to end a trying day than being spoon-fed chocolate mousse by the boy of her dreams.

Marinette stared at her reflection, droplets dripping from her chin like the countless tears she’d cried the past month. So much had changed since she left. Her face still looked the same, but the girl inside was different than the one who walked out of Francoise-Dupont a month ago. Her eyes carried a new determination.

Lila had gone too far, and Marinette wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. Starting today, everything was going to change.

“Marinette! You’re going to be late for school!” her mother called up the stairs.

Marinette dried her face and slipped on her blazer.

“Coming!”

Things were normal at school. People were buzzing about the latest akuma and the appearance of Emerald Shell. Martin held his head a little higher, though his cheeks never lost their rosy hue, especially when Macy gushed about how Emerald Shell saved her. It wasn’t until art class that they realized Marinette was being unusually quiet.

“How did things go with Adrien?” Eliott asked, looking up from the fruit bowl they were all painting.

“Adrien was fine,” Marinette said. “It was Lila I had to worry about.”

“Still?” Macy winced. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story…” Marinette sighed, wiping her brush on a rag.

“We’ve got a whole hour.” Martin pointed out, and they all looked at Marinette expectantly.

Marinette smiled, reassured by their eagerness. They really were the best friends in the world. She took a deep breath before diving in, and her friends listened to every detail intently.

“Whoa, she really did that to you?” Lisette asked when she finished. “And I thought Gabrielle was awful.”

“Lila is an attention-seeking manipulator, and she crushes anyone who gets in her way,” Marinette said bitterly. “I hate to drag you guys into this—mostly because I barely want to be dragged into this—but-”

“Oh, we’ll totally help,” Macy said. “If there’s one thing rich people love to do it’s brag about our accomplishments and make other people look inferior.”

“I can text around and try to set up a hangout with Prince Ali next time he passes through Paris.” Eliott offered.

“My dad’s in a group that plays tennis with a few ambassadors. I’m sure he could help us set up a youth program to push a Go Green effort here in Paris.” Martin added.

“Sometimes I babysit for the president’s niece, so I could see about getting her deported,” Lisette said with a cheery grin, and everyone turned to her with horrified expressions. “I’m kidding, but it’s an option.”

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re kicking awful people out of the country.” Eliott nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

“Anything you need, Marinette, we’ve got your back,” Macy said, placing a hand over hers. “We’re behind you all the way.”

Marinette pulled her in for a hug, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Even though she regretted running from her problems, Marinette didn’t regret meeting her new friends. They helped her when she needed it most, and for that, she would always be grateful. With these people by her side, Lila wasn’t going to know what hit her.

♪♫♪ This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things ♪♫♪

Marinette paced the length of the living room a week later, chewing her nails. The awards show had finally arrived, and Clara would be walking the red carpet in one of Marinette’s original designs. It was the biggest moment of her life, and she couldn’t sit still.

Her mom smiled, setting the cake she’d just finished decorating on the table. “Everything is going to be fine, dear. Your designs were wonderful, and Clara loved them.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean all of the famous fashion critics are going to. People talk about award show outfits for weeks, mom! If everyone hates Clara’s dress, I’m going to be front-page news for worst-dressed all month!” Marinette groaned.

“There’s no way anyone will hate your designs. My daughter has all the talent in the world!” Her father scooped her up, planting a kiss on her cheek.

The doorbell rang, and Marinette rushed to answer it.

“Congratulations!” Her friends cheered.

Macy pulled her in for a tight hug. “I can’t wait to see which design Clara picked! They were all so good.”

“I can’t believe Clara picked you over Gabriel Agreste. You are so lucky, Marinette,” Lisette said.

“She’s amazingly talented. My father didn’t stand a chance,” Adrien said with a laugh. He presented a bouquet of roses with a shy smile. “Congratulations, mon ange.”

Marinette stretched up to kiss his cheek. Taking his hand, she ushered everyone inside where they didn’t hesitate to make themselves at home. Eliott and Martin moved for the snacks while Macy and Lisette settled on the couch. Marinette’s mother reached for a vase on the top shelf, stretching up on her toes.

“Let me.” Adrien stepped in and grabbed it with ease.

“Thank you, dear. Marinette picked such a sweet boyfriend.” Her mother beamed. “She used to talk about you so much. Every day, she’d come home from school and tell us all about how green your eyes are and-”

“Mom!” Marinette shot her a silencing look.

“I’m flattered. Marinette is a wonderful girl. You and Mr. Dupain must be really proud that a celebrity like Clara commissioned her,” Adrien replied smoothly. He shot Marinette a wink when her mom changed the subject. Why was he so perfect?

“Ooo! It’s starting!” Macy squealed.

Marinette and Adrien squeezed onto the couch next to Macy and Eliott. She leaned her head on his shoulder, twining their fingers together. Having her friends around eased some of her nerves, but her heartbeat escalated every time someone new moved to the front of the line.

“How long until we get to see your dress?” her dad asked.

“I don’t know. The red carpet doesn’t really have a set schedule.” Marinette shrugged.

“Okay, we’ll just wait,” he said, trying to seem nonchalant, though his impatience showed each time he shifted or cleared his throat.

Marinette chewed her nails as other artists and celebrities made their appearances, leg bouncing until Eliott reached over to stop it. She flashed him a sheepish grin but resumed tapping the moment he turned away.

Clara’s name flashed at the bottom of the screen, and Marinette cupped her hands over her mouth. Everyone leaned forward as she approached the camera in a colorful, flowing gown.

“She’s wearing my favorite!” Marinette squeaked between her fingers. Her dad patted her knee as her mom turned up the volume on the television.

“Standing here on the red carpet with Best Pop Artist nominee Clara Nightingale,” the reporter said, turning to Clara with a smile. “Clara, can I just say you look lovely tonight? Who are you wearing?”

“My dress was designed by someone sweet; a teen whose talent can’t be beat. More beautiful than any melody I’ve ever sang, this dress is by Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Clara twirled around, the skirt of the dress rippling with color.

Marinette buried her face in a couch pillow with a shrill scream. Adrien rubbed her back with a laugh. She shot up again, eyes glued to the screen as Clara gushed about the details of her dress before the conversation steered toward her award nomination.

“Can I just say? Stun-ning!” Eliott said.

“That dress is everything! It looks even better than it did on paper.” Macy agreed.

“A celebrity wearing my daughter’s original designs! I always knew someone would recognize how amazing you are.” Her dad pulled her in for a tight hug.

“We’re so proud of you, honey. We know how hard you worked,” her mom said.

“You did an amazing job, Marinette.” Adrien pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Well, we have to get back to the bakery, so we’ll let you kids watch the rest together, okay?” Her mother passed Macy the remote.

“Good night.” Marinette waved as they stood and took their leave.

“Actually, I should go too. I forgot to do my physics homework,” Macy said, standing up. “Martin, can you come help me? It’ll take me hours if you don’t.”

Martin flicked his gaze over to Marinette and nodded. “Uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Oh, ya know, I just remembered that I promised my dad we’d help him with that thing,” Lisette said.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, it’s like a big, complicated thing. We need to go too.” Eliott nodded. “Congrats again. You’re amazing and wonderful, and you deserve this more than anyone.”

“Thanks.” Marinette smiled.

“See you tomorrow!” Macy called as they all shuffled out the door.

“Is it just me or was that a lot of lame excuses?” Marinette tilted her head.

“I asked them to give us some time alone.” Adrien admitted.

“Oh.” Marinette’s cheeks warmed as Adrien wrapped an arm around her.

“I know things have been crazy lately, but in a way, I’m really glad all of this happened. I might not have ever realized how I felt about you if it hadn’t,” he said. “It’s a weird positive that’s come from everything.”

“Yeah.” Marinette leaned against his shoulder with a smile. “I’m happy things worked out. I never would have told you how I felt otherwise.”

“Did you really tell your parents how cute I was?” he asked with a smirk.

“I- Well, I didn’t- I mean-” She buried her face in his shirt with a groan.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you stammer like that. I forgot how cute it is.” Adrien chuckled.

“It’s your fault.” She jabbed his chest with one finger. “You’re so cute. It makes me all flustered.”

“Hmm, then I wonder how you’ll react to this.” He reached into his pocket to retrieve a long jewelry case, opening it to reveal a small pink diamond necklace.

“Adrien!”

“I wanted to get you something to remember me by since we go to different schools now. I miss you like crazy, so I thought that maybe you could at least have a small piece of me when we’re apart,” he said. “Do you like it?”

“Adrien…” Marinette cupped a hand over her mouth. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

The gem was warm against her skin as Adrien fastened it around her neck, a physical reminder of his love. They’d overcome so much together, and while their fight was far from over, at least Marinette had him.

Adrien turned her jaw to face him, brushing her cheek with his thumb. Those warm green eyes softened as he leaned in, and Marinette closed her eyes. His breath swirled hot on her lips when they brushed, sending a jolt up her spine. Her heart hammered in a frenzy, building rapidly in anticipation. But just as release came, his pocket buzzed, and they both crashed down to earth again.

With a short sigh, Adrien pulled back and retrieved his phone, quirking a brow at the caller ID.

“It’s Chloe,” he said. “Hell-”

“Were you two going to list Dupain-Cheng designing for Clara Nightingale among our assets, or was I just supposed to figure that out myself?” She scolded.

“Sorry. It was kind of-”

“No time for excuses. I need to propose this to you before I change my mind. I know the perfect way to enact your plan,” Chloe said with a groan. “I hate myself for even considering it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed.

“We’re going to make Dupain-Cheng famous, and I think I know the perfect way to do it.”

#mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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