#it takes so much courage to do what she does
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lokigodofaces · 3 days ago
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May I suggest a third potential?
The formally brainwashed party specifically breaks rules/laws. Even things they don't really want to do. Could be wearing atrocious color combinations. Could be being needlessly rude to someone. Could be speeding. Running red lights. Stealing random crap. Breaking random crap. Getting into fights.
From this you get two options for the motive: are they refusing to follow rules again and trying to prove to themselves and others that they're free? Or are they desperate for order and for someone to control them that they start breaking rules and laws to try to get someone to tell them what to do/arrest them?
I think characters who have been brainwashed should have absolutely bat shit insane trauma responses about it. Because you can do so much with it, y'know? It's so versatile.
On one extreme end of the brainwashing trauma response spectrum, you have someone who has the worst impulse control you've ever seen, like this person is prone to spontaneous behavior like no one has ever been before. They would drive into oncoming traffic just to prove that they're in control of themselves.
On the complete opposite extreme end, you have someone who needs to micromanaged, down to the minute details. It doesn't matter that they're in control of themselves again, they need someone telling them what to do, borderline at all times. They can't function without it. You could think the word jump and this person would already be in the air.
Please is anyone picking up what I'm putting down. There's potential here I think. Like. In general.
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#why do these scenarios fit so many of the characters i love lol?#bucky barnes#loki laufeyson#daisy johnson#leopold fitz#clint barton#okay so i think daisy canonically does 3a but i bet she also has lots of 1#fitz at first is 2 but starts to edge away from that & go into the 3s#i headcanon that if bucky hadnt ran off after tws or was somehow found by steve earlier on he wouldve been very much 2 but when steve would#be controlling he'd go into 3b to try to get steve to control him. but then get to 1 at some point along the line when it becomes clear tha#steve isnt going to control him & he gets the courage to do what he wants. but as for canon he couldnt do 2 bc he was alone. but i imagine#at first he only is worried about survival & not being caught. after that he does 1.#clint i think is a mix of both 3a & 3b but he desperately wants you to think he's 3a only. like just the way he acted at the end of avenger#i felt like he was leaning towards this. i mean dude didnt even question going against orders to fight loki without telling a soul. bc 3a#doesnt mean going against literally everyone. the rebellion can be doing things with certain ppl. also he had certain lines that just fit t#vibe for me. but anyway i imagine that for the next several months at shield he was driving everyone insane. he just kept going against ord#& doing dumb stuff. & he never did anything that endangered anyone else only what endangered his own life. but everyone working w him knew#what happened so they knew this wasnt just a dumb guy but rather so trauma response & they dont really know how to help bc clint is insiste#on going out into the field. thing is sometimes it's 3a he just doesn't want to follow others. but other times it's 3b he desperately wants#someone to give him more order & structure in life. but it's only when someone he trusts gives him orders/or even suggestions. ie natasha#but he doesnt dare tell anyone that. it takes months for him to tell the shield provided therapist that. but when he's at home he tries to#hide it from the kids (luckily they're so young they prob dont notice) but he's 2 with laura. it's a very different relationship bc she's#his wife. he doesnt mind doing things for her bc they're married. & he isnt going to lash out the same way he does at shield he doesnt want#to do any of that in laura's presence. but shield isnt giving him the order he wants & it's so easy for him to do things for laura. yes he'#do the dishes & change the baby's diaper & whatever else she asks. & of course he'll ask her if there's anything he can do. he's being a#good husband is all. clint doesnt even realize what is happening. neither does laura for a long time. but soon when he's home he only does#things for laura. he doesnt even turn on the tv without asking first what laura thinks would be fun to watch. a few months later laura#realizes clint isnt being as proactive as normal. normally he doesnt ask if he can do anything to help. he just starts doing whatever he se#needs done. & he isnt spending hardly any time training anymore at home. & he hasnt even watched tv or read a book on his own. well#shield got her into therapy too bc they figured that while she didnt experience anything about loki directly it would be very hard for her
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daphwritesworld · 2 days ago
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Every possible established couple out of that foursome would be the hottest thing ever, how are you meant to decide which one?! 🥵
Like from your words alone I'd say Reader and Alessia are obviously not the already established couple and are the more shy but eager ones, typically I'd go with Alessia x Leah as the couple because it would make sense since they play for England and I love this duo BUT imagine the way everyone would lose their mind if Alessia x McCabe were together? The shy, gentle and puppy like Lessi with the cocky, argumentative McCabe?! Fuckkkkk
Feel like there would be a lot of edging for a while to get them worked up, get R and Alessia right to where they want them and then when they thinking that's all their getting, they'd overwhelm them with orgasms
I'm picturing Alessia and R being more shy to be shared, clinging to their girlfriends at first while someone else touches them. Unsure what to do with themselves until they turn to each other and start sinking into each other, moaning into each other's mouths tentatively and before they know it they're humping at each other like they're in heat.
So many thoughts
-🧠
SEE YOU GET ME.
i’m always down for a Leah x Lessi pairing….but McCabe x Lessi ??? 🤭 GIRRRLLLLL!!!!!!
i get the feeling the reader & Alessia are good friends on the team. usually doing drills together when needing to team up and leaving their girlfriend to fend for themselves. that’s how it starts— Leah and Katie pairing up out of force tbh. but they quickly stop pouting about being left by their significant others when they realize just how much fun they can have together. Leah and Katie have a competitive friendship at heart, seeing who can do drills faster, better, and god knows what else. they also both seem to get distracted by their hot sexy girlfriend’s about 50 times every practice session. which inevitably leads to them trying to compete in other areas of their lives. it starts small— a passing comment from McCabe about how she had Lessi cumming 4 times after their win. oh and that makes Leah pipe up about how she had reader squirting in her mouth after the 5th orgasm she gave her that same night. and that’s how they start the idea of having a competition….a sex race you could say. they get a months time and whoever can give their girl the most orgasms wins. im talking they’re on their phone texting as soon as the rounds over, “make that 10–8 Williamson” and a nice reply not even 20 minutes later “12-10 eat my dust McCabe 🖕🏻”
that leads to both of their girlfriends growing suspicious. i mean they appreciate all of the orgasms, but every single day?? and the sneaking on their phone every single time after sex?? yeah they’re confused, concerned, and worried their girlfriends have some sex addiction they’ve been keeping under wraps until now. it isn’t until they start confiding in each other at practice that they realize something is definitely up, so they make a plan. i’m thinking they both run off to the locker rooms first— grabbing their girlfriends’ phones before going into a shower stall to investigate. idk where i’ll take it from there but 🤭 it will escalate to the best extent.
but once they’ve worked out the plan and they get into that room? GOOD GOD OL MIGHTY. Lessi and Reader are definitely shy at first. hiding their faces with their hands, not wanting to make any noises so they bite their lips. red rosy cheeks and hesitant hands as they let themselves relax more from their girlfriend’s touches. once they’ve worked up the courage to finally look at each other— the connection is instant. they’re reaching out, holding onto each other for support as they’re being taken apart right next to each other. “Y-You look really pretty, Lessi,” it’s said so softly reader’s not even sure the other girl heard it. oh but she does, and it has Alessia leaning forward so close her breath is fanning against reader’s lips. “So do you,” and her cheeks are turning darker. and before they know it they’re sinking into each other..kissing, moaning, groping each other’s bodies as they’re girlfriends swap places. they don’t even notice at first— too caught up in each other to even realize they’re building orgasms had dwindled down.
anyways i’ll stop myself now before i actually ruin the whole fic 🤣
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velvettapeworm · 13 days ago
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Elica Le Bon is a treasure.
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firstroseofspring · 5 months ago
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thinking pondering to me john torres is like. what if u met a woman. with confidence and dignity and a strong moral backbone. you meet and she makes a distinct impression with her honesty and her frankness and she seems like she's always sure of what she wants and what she needs and she's so different from anyone else you know and thats exciting and she's exciting and she likes you specifically you. and you don't think much of you but it feels good to be liked by someone like that. you love her of course. you marry her. of course!
#diary#miral of course miral this post as all other posts on my blog is about miral. head in my hands#john torres and his projected insecurities and shitty behavior you will always be infamous.#im so deeply rooted in my headcanons for them i have au's . girl the universe isnt even that well established ?#call me b'elanna torres the way i'm turning miral and john over in my head to figure out what the heck happened#in my head john and miral are like. john voice she's never stuttered in her life she always knows what to do she's very serious strong head#on her shoulders. my kind of woman.#meanwhile miral is like. act first pray on it later was that a mistake? well what is a mistake really this is my path now#and i'll have to see how to handle what has been done. seeing as now it can't be changed shrugs. the honorable thing to do.#i also think they see a lot of their flaws as like-#consequences of their cultures and not like personal flaws which can sometimes be true but also sometimes they are very much flaws in the#person.#miral is a little too sure of herself bordering on arrogance and likes control. john is like ahh klingons and their surefootedness :)#<- a little correct but also very wrong.#john is very like. at his worst a cold shoulder bad at personal confrontation kind of a pushover quick to resent but usually just seems#serious and occasionally quiet . normally social tho! so miral is like. a consequence of his upbringing that can't be changed. i will#take him as he is.#which is a nice sentiment and would normally be applied well unless you are these two specifically.#what happens when its 10 or even just five years later and you're getting tired of the cowardice? what happens when its five years later and#you can't go a day without arguing? what happens then.#did you confuse her arrogance for poise for assertiveness? did you confuse her recklessness with courage? whos wrong her or you?#miral voice is he a fool does he not care? he's content to just stand by? cower?#i think from the klingon pov a man who isn't willing to fight for you and your relationship must be devastatinggggg#not literally of course here but also literally. lol#but yeah what does it do to you when the person you love won't even argue with you anymore just totally pulls away? leaves. head in my hands#who do you think fell first. idk but i know who fell harder! :) <- tears in my eyes#i really like pathways where they made miral like a chatty woman and had her offer to host parties for b'elanna and her friends it was so#sweet i should read it again.#i like her to be a little crazy though <3 :)
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oh-my-gosh-its-j0sh · 8 months ago
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The way that I would love to write about these two in a fanwork? I would love to ramble about them whenever given the chance! 👀
*Casually inserts some vintage World War II-era romance between Muriel and Eustace in the tags*
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I recently watched some Courage which inspired me to doodle young versions of Eustace and Muriel. Probably in their 20's or something.
#reblog#courage the cowardly dog#muriel bagge#eustace bagge#cartoon network#reblogging because this has been on my mind for a little bit#i like to think that eustace was a world war ii veteran who had a rough childhood initially#eustace apparently joined with the friends he did have in order to manifest a sense of self purpose#eustace grew up not having much also#eustace felt immense jealousy after having his family prefer his older brother over him#and that jealousy was carried with him into adulthood#fast forward after the events of wwii#muriel’s working at a small cozy cafe where she is trying to make ends meet#eustace sees muriel upset probably because of war related circumstances or she had lost someone close#muriel takes note of eustace trying to provide company in some way and she is everso greatful#eustace tells muriel about the war and what all he had been through with losing his childhood friends who enlisted with him together#muriel tells him about the things she had been through while struggling to make ends meet with cooking and running her cafe#the two talk for a bit and muriel takes the first move with romance involved#eustace is reluctant but would do anything for muriel as a result of her being the only one who was and still is kind to him#in short: eustace had been through a lot with family issues and grievances#muriel is there to help him#muriel also does not have a mean bone in her body so she is willing to treat anyone with the warmth and hospitality she had given eustace#i love these two sm#i really like the fan work made for them btw! i wish there was more lol#oops i rambled again#josh.txt
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detective-piplup · 5 months ago
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thinking about brian aurum again guys. also like beware the tags genuinely this time he has a bad time
#I want to talk in the tags but it would get dark. so ->#cw suicide#cw self harm#HEED THOSE TAGS PLEASE. anyway Brian Aurum the self destructive mess of a man that you are#always had been. getting into a relationship with a woman he knew was using him for money. never running when she turned sour#saving his son by sending him away but taking so much longer to get the courage to leave himself#and then when he does. he soon finds his son dead. that despite everything he gave for that boy to get a better life he wouldn’t have there#he still died anyway#and it’s ruled a mystery. nobody really knows what happened and there’s no way to investigate because it’s obviously paranormal in nature#and Brian doesn’t know what to do so he turns to destroying himself. maybe not through the means you’d think like drugs and alcohol#but still rotting. still slowly destroying himself in the way you do when you no longer have a reason#but you also lack the courage to pull the trigger#just. alive. not even really surviving. just alive and waiting for death to get sick of you#so when he’s killed in what’s labelled an accident#everyone who knew him (no matter how much he tried to isolate himself) knows it wasn’t entirely unintentional#that Brian had the time to save his wing but he couldn’t make himself do it.#and when Clockwork Present brings him back in a new world. The idea of maybe his Gabriel being alive here too drives him#he doesn’t really believe it. he’s running on empty still and he knows it#but Present’s shadiness about it gives him just enough to keep it as his purpose. he needs one. if he doesn’t then he wastes his life again#and even if it’s cruel in his eyes to bring a man who wanted death back from it.#Clockwork Present never comments on how hard it is for Brian to wake up or keep going some days. And Brian is at least grateful for that#can. can anyone hear me atp#brian aurum#k bye
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baeshijima · 4 months ago
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— within uncertainty
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sunday reflects on his limited time thus far on the express, only to find himself distracted by a face he has unknowingly become fond of.
CONTAINS : 1.2k wc, gn!reader, astral express member!sunday, fluff
A/N : chat have we seen the lc and gameplay leaks…? throwing up.
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When Sunday first arrived on the Astral Express, a miniature gold and crimson ticket attached to his apparel, he wasn’t sure what to expect.
A new start; that much he was sure of. But with these people who instilled a newfound hope and courage to face the future, there was no shadow of a doubt within his heart and soul that he would encounter the unexpected more times than he can keep track of.
Sure enough, the unexpected came in many ways.
For one, March 7th’s uncanny ability to look at the bright side of things appeared so natural to her, so easy and simple. In recent times, he has found himself thinking about situations in a more positive light, no doubt a side effect of having spent time with her bubbly self.
He discovered Dan Heng’s aloof demeanour barely concealed his great care and affection for the crew— the Astral Express family. Even with what seems to be passive quips and dead-eyed stares, Sunday has begun to note the differentiations in his tone and body language, and all the subtleties he only shows with them.
He discovered the Trailblazer was every bit of a jokester as they are courageous, often finding himself staring blankly at some of their… seamlessly timed quips, to put it lightly. Even so, he’s oftentimes caught himself mid-admiration when they take charge in what they believe is right, wondering if he, too, could be like them in that aspect.
He found that Welt, while still retaining the righteous and strong spirit he displayed while in penacony, had a rather unprecedented charm. Sitting down for hours on end listening to the elder ramble passionately about animating, the arts, and endless theories about this universe wasn’t something he had ever planned for, but his heart warmed all the same at the burst of energy.
He came to realise the Express’ Navigator, Himeko, was certainly a… character. Brave, wise and humble were what he would use to describe her, even more so after her warmly welcoming him into the family. However, Sunday realised he could do without that… concoction she dubs a coffee.
He also never realised such a creature existed until he met Pom-Pom, much less one being a sentient conductor. Their nags are backed with overflowing affection for the members of the Express, often displayed through the meticulous care taken in the tailored meals and rooms and experience. There is so much love of the Astral Express, and Sunday wouldn’t be surprised if he were told most of it came from the Conductor.
(Though he does recall being warned by Dan Heng in particular to not anger the Conductor, an experience he is both curious about but also content in not knowing what exactly would transpire.)
And then there is you.
Sunday only caught a glimpse of you during the final moments of the conflict, much like with Himeko, so he didn’t have too much to go off of other than the fact you, just as it seemed to come with being a part of the Astral Express, were brave and fought for what you believed in.
(With you in particular, he found himself unable to forget your gaze — how it held a sparkling resolution and commanded his full attention, completely and utterly drawn in.)
Of course, that’s not to say you don’t embody those aspects now that he’s gotten to know you. Rather, you are so much more than what he could have ever imagined.
“Wow… they’re way softer than they look!”
…In more ways than one.
Sunday doesn’t really know how this situation came to be. He was merely idling around the Express in search of something to pass the time until you took note of his predicament, swooping in like the graceful saviour you are (self-proclaimed by you).
Somehow, in some way, that brought you both to his room.
It’s times like these where Sunday wholeheartedly believes the most forward member of the Astral Express isn’t that racoon-like Trailblazer, but rather you instead.
Seriously. How are you not embarrassed by this… this compromising position you’re both in?! He can practically feel the radius in which the heat from his face permeates!
“Do you, like, have a care routine for them or something?” you ask while gently thumbing individual feathers, because obviously this is only affecting him and him alone. “I refuse to believe your wings are like this naturally.”
He knows he gave you permission to touch them, but it doesn’t change the fact his wings are still sensitive. Aeon knows what you would do with that information; well, assuming you haven’t already picked up on his reactions towards your… ministrations.
“I do have a routine. I go to great lengths pruning and trimming my feathers. More than that…” he trails off, opting to ignore your mumbled comment of “Wow… you’re just like a bird then…”. He coughs, averting his eyes from your intensely gentle gaze, raising a fist to cover his lips. “Are you this forward with everyone?”
You blink. Once, twice, thrice. Somehow, the action makes Sunday fluster even further.
A hum leaves you as your lips purse and your head tilts in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say everyone, exactly. Just those I consider to be very close to me. Oh,” you begin, as though realising something, “does it bother you? I’m so sorry!”
No— wait— why are you apologising?
“I didn’t realise I was making you uncomfortable! Oh gosh, I did it again…!”
You make a move to scramble away from him. Is it your frantic and unfocused eyes, or perhaps this uncharacteristic side of your usual confident and unabashed self which makes his heart lurch?
“I’m so, so sorry! I’ll keep my distance from now on and—!”
He acts before he can think.
“No!”
There’s a surge of panic which shoots into him. It makes itself known in the raw strain of his voice, in the shaky wide-eyed stare at the thought of you leaving, in the trembling grip he has your arm in.
Really, Sunday doesn’t know what he’s panicking about. He just knows a part of himself would never forgive him for unintentionally pushing you away like this.
A gasp escapes him after a few tense seconds which felt much more like an eternity. With haste, Sunday tears his hand away from your arm. Despite that, he remains in close proximity to you, mustering the courage to look at you once more.
“I… I mean, no, you’re not making me uncomfortable.” Sunday prays you didn’t hear the stammer in his words. And, if you did, then he hopes you don’t bring it up. “If I were feeling as such, I would have told you outright.”
The silence is absolutely suffocating. Even so, Sunday doesn’t dare look away from your stunned expression, not even when he’s almost positive his face is about to melt off from the sheer heat radiating from him.
“Oh.” You blink, expression falling into that of neutrality. A nod of understanding is your next action; understanding of what? Sunday has no clue — he’s not sure he even wants to know. “So you’re that type, huh. I see now.”
Nevermind. Maybe he does.
“…What does that mean? Wait— [Name], come back here! Explain what ‘that type’ means! Are you listening?!”
Suffice to say, Sunday never received a verbal response from you. Only your cheeky grin before you left and a plethora of butterflies fluttering amok within his stomach are all that remains.
Yeah. Sunday didn’t know what to expect when joining the Astral Express; in fact, he still doesn’t know what to expect. Despite being thrown into the unknown, he finds himself thinking this situation to not be so bad after all.
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if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33
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caramelkoo · 1 month ago
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no questions asked— jjk
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Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?
pairing : Jungkook X reader
genre : established relationship, smut, fluff
word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)
Based on this ask <33
warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.
a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌
˚୨୧⋆。˚
Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.
Oh god
Oh. my. God.
Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing. 
Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.
In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.
It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off? 
“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile. 
“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.” 
“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”
A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book. 
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?” 
She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have. 
You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.” 
If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter. 
You wince.
“I’m sorry what?” 
When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work. 
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”
She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.
A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No. 
There you said it.
And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.
Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes. 
For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?
Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves. 
But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it. 
Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.
All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides. 
You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?
You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me. 
For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.
A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”
“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.
No shit.
“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense. 
A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.” 
The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.
Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?” 
Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.
Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything? 
Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?” 
Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”
Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you. 
“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.
˚୨୧⋆。˚
“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.
“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always. 
“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.” 
A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing. 
“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?” 
Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.
Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?” 
Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.
“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.” 
With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.
Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices. 
“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?” 
It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”
Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work. 
A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?” 
The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.
Once
Twice
Thrice 
“I don’t understand.” Liar.
“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”
Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it? 
Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew. 
She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.
You were allowed to cry,
You were allowed to ask for help,
You were allowed to not hold back.
Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”
Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.
“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness. 
This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness. 
Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?” 
Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries. 
He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.
It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up. 
“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”
He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.
“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?” 
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.” 
Fuck
“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”
He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss” 
With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing. 
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The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate. 
Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.
˚୨୧⋆。˚
Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.
There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won. 
But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off. 
He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know? 
What’s her name?
Where does she live?
What’s her favorite color?
How does she like her coffee?
There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him. 
He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade? 
And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.
He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory. 
Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man. 
The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.
_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?” 
Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.
He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones. 
Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.” 
Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?” 
He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?” 
“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle. 
“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.
He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.
He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways. 
Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off. 
The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh. 
“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back. 
˚୨୧⋆。˚
The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room. 
Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?” 
She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”
He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.” 
You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps. 
From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you. 
Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?
“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. 
You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.” 
A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.
Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive. 
“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.” 
Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?” 
He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod. 
“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”
Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?
“Angel, what’s-” 
You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows. 
“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?
Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway. 
“Excuse me.” 
Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.
“Can I help you?” 
A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”
An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.” 
He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad. 
“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?” 
The audacity of this man.
You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.” 
His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before. 
The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision. 
Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.
Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter. 
You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him. 
“You fucking bitch.” 
Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished. 
Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize. 
He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.
It feels warm.
Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe” 
You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care. 
You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you. 
His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back. 
“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”
“Yes, please.”
His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”
Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”
You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”. 
You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?” 
“Let me see wh-”
“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.” 
˚୨୧⋆。˚
At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question. 
Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her. 
Initially, it bothered him. A lot. 
Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” 
The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?
She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?” 
Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.
Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse. 
Thump thump thump. 
“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.” 
He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.” 
Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”
He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.” 
And he does. For now. 
He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one. 
Just when he thinks  _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?” 
“Come here.” 
He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.
Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 
She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.
______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.
She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.” 
Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?” 
“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”
He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.” 
When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint. 
He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers. 
Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine. 
The feeling is very much mutual. 
She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting. 
In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will. 
Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it. 
The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.
______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily. 
“Please.” she begs. 
A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?” 
“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.
He grins. “At your service, ma’am.” 
He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her. 
His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her. 
Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock. 
“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that. 
Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car. 
_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.” 
“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?” 
She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?” 
“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.
______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.
“Please.” she whispers. 
A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own. 
She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick. 
He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”
There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.” 
Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.
And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?” 
“As sure as one can be.” 
He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers. 
His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her. 
Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch. 
She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her. 
“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure. 
Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name. 
Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back. 
“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?” 
She cries out. 
“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god” 
Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.” 
Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”
He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.
When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again. 
She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders. 
He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.
Soft and intimate. 
So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”
_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts. 
“What?” 
“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”
He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”
“Yes” 
‘What?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?” 
He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”
Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words. 
He’s so gone.
About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry. 
“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.” 
2K notes · View notes
rafeysbunny · 2 months ago
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rafe saves you from drowning
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a/n. based on this ask.
"she can't swim, top!" by the time sarah shouts at him, it's already too late.
topper has thrown you inside the cameron's pool, despite how desperately you were squirming in his arms while you begged him to put you down, really hoping he wouldn't be and ass just for once. unfortunately, the guy seemingly cannot stop being a dickhead.
you're panicking, kicking and flailing your arms in the deep end of the pool to try and stay afloat, but there's no use. you struggle to keep your head from sinking under the water, taking quick breaths whenever you are on the surface, panic clear on your face. but then you swallow some water, and as you start coughing strongly, trying to swim gets even harder
you can't avoid sinking for much longer. and when you submerge, you can't physically bring yourself back to surface anymore.
sarah's scream has silenced everyone's laughter, but no one moves a finger to help you —even though you're obviously drowning in there. no one, except rafe cameron, who doesn't even hesitate to dive into the water so he can take you out. he reaches you just in time, grabbing you tightly and pulling you to the edge; his heart is racing as he does so.
still coughing and sputtering, you look up at him, and he can see the exact moment in which your panicked expression softens in a mix of relief and gratitude.
topper approaches the two of you quickly, worried, while everyone whispers around you, looking at you like you're some kind of freak show, some of them even recording the whole thing —are they for real right now? you almost died.
"stay away from her, topper," rafe snaps at him, and the guy immediately stops on his tracks, clearly knowing he's fucked up. "the rest of you, get the fuck outta my house!"
you're shocked.
rafe doesn't pay attention to anyone but you as he helps you stand up carefully, his arm around your waist at all times. your clothes are completely soaked through, as well as your hair, and you shiver a little at the cool summer breeze.
"let's get you some clean clothes, yeah?"
when he talks to you, his voice is completely opposite to the gruff tone he used before; now it's sweet and caring. you nod in response, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders in a protective manner while he guides you inside the house. he doesn't seem to care that he's dripping too, his entire focus put on you.
rafe takes you to his room and he closes the door behind him so no one bothers you. he gently hands you a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, which smell so, so good —just like him, and then he takes you to his private bathroom.
"you can use the shower if you want," he says, opening some drawers to grab clean towels for you. when you simply stay silent, looking at him like a fool, he adds, "are you okay, y/n?"
you hesitate, fidgeting nervously, before you finally gather the courage to speak, "why are you doing this?"
"what?" he seems a little confused by your question.
"why are you, uhm, helping me?" you ask, staring at him as he drops the towels on top of the sink to go start the shower for you.
when the water's running, he turns around to face you, his gaze so intense that you swear it's piercing holes right through you.
"isn't it obvious?" he smirks; a little lopsided smirk that has a lot of butterflies fluttering around in your belly. "i like you, silly."
more.
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2K notes · View notes
fxstpace · 3 months ago
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little white lies
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summary: miya atsumu needs to find a date for his cousin’s wedding, or risk getting hounded by all his relatives prying into his business. unless said business is you—in which case, he’s all for it. maybe he can work up the courage to ask you out for real while he’s at it.
⇢ pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers au, fake dating au, idiots to idiots in love, debatable attempts at comedy were made ⇢ word count: 9.2k ⇢ warnings: profanity, one (1) scene where atsumu is shirtless
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Miya Atsumu acknowledges the fact that he has made several stupid decisions throughout the course of his life. 
There was the time he decided that dipping waffles in hot sauce would make for a tasty food combination. (It did not, and he ended up lying in bed with a stomach ache for three days with a grumbling Osamu looking after him). Then there was that incident where he proudly claimed he could crush an entire watermelon with his bare hands. (He could not, and Suna had laughed his ass off when Aran easily demonstrated the same feat). 
And then, there was the time he tried to comfort you after you watched Hachiko Monogatari together. You’d been sniffling quietly, your eyes red and puffy, when he awkwardly handed you a tissue and said, “‘S okay. The dog’s probably acted in better movies.”  
You’d stared at him, horrified, before bursting into tears. Osamu had walked in just in time to witness you chuck a pillow at Atsumu’s head, calling him an emotionally inept moron; he’d laughed so hard, he dropped the tub of ice cream he was holding and got mint chocolate chip all over the carpet. Atsumu still cringes whenever he thinks of it.
Nothing much has changed in Atsumu’s life. He still has a massive crush on you, and he still makes stupid decisions.
What transpired in the Miya twins’ childhood home’s sitting room fifteen minutes ago is a testament to this tragic fact.
When the Miya brothers’ cousin, Shohei, called them up to invite them to his wedding taking place in two weeks, Atsumu and Osamu were nothing short of elated. Shohei video-called them, and for a good five minutes, all Atsumu did was scream incoherently when he announced that the wedding date had been fixed. Osamu promised to close Onigiri Miya on the Saturday two weeks hence, and Atsumu made a mental note to ask Meian if he could take the weekend off.
Shohei then turned the phone to their grandmother, sitting on her favourite armchair with the pink satin cushion, wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and sagging skin by her cheeks. Atsumu’s heart lifted at the sight of her���he was her favourite grandson, after all—and when she smiled at the twins, her lips were slightly puckered because she didn’t have her dentures in yet. 
But that wasn’t the important bit. It shouldn’t have been what Atsumu focused on most, as he opened his mouth to tease her. He should have been focusing on the knowing, youthful gleam in the Miya household’s matriarch’s eyes—a gleam that spelled trouble when she set her gaze straight at him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Grandma Miya herself,” Atsumu drawled.
“Grandma Miya won’t be living for much longer,” she retorted, not one to be outdone by her own grandson.
Osamu had frowned. “Don’t say things like that, Grandma. It’s superstitious.”
Shohei had sighed dramatically, making a face at Osamu. “She does it all the time now. You should hear her go on and on. It’s good that you’re getting married, Shohei. This old woman won’t live for much longer, but at least I can see one of my grandsons getting married. Shame on the twins for making me live in suspense!” He said the last bit with an imitation of Grandma Miya’s toothless drawl, and it drew out a giggle from Atsumu and a swat on the shoulder to Shohei from the woman herself.
“Maybe I do have a girl in mind, Grandma,” Atsumu said on instinct, waggling his eyebrows. “I just haven’t told anyone yet.”
Grandma Miya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Is she nice?”
“The best,” he had promised. “You’ll love her.”
Beside him, Osamu had gone very still. Even Shohei quietened down, letting Atsumu and their grandmother talk. In hindsight, Atsumu probably should have realised what a horrific blunder he was making, but he had a habit of letting his mouth run loose and this was one of those times.
Grandma Miya’s eyes had lit up. She had lifted the corners of her mouth into such a wide, hopeful smile, that Atsumu felt a twinge of guilt deep in his chest for lying to her. He couldn’t take back his words, however, because Grandma Miya excitedly clasped her fingers together and said, “You’ll bring her along to Shohei’s wedding, won’t you? She must meet the rest of the family. It’ll be nice for Sakura to meet her, too.”
Shohei nodded. Sakura was his future wife, a beautiful and kind lady who complemented Atsumu’s cousin perfectly. “Sakura would love to meet someone that’s going to be part of our family.”
Osamu didn’t say anything. When Atsumu looked at him, he had his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Uh—” he began.
“No hesitating,” Grandma Miya had said firmly. “Tell her to come along. It will be fun.”
Atsumu couldn’t deny that; events that took place within the Miya family were always fun. But he couldn’t exactly create a girlfriend out of nothing, could he? Belatedly, Atsumu felt the guilt and horror of his words seep into his brain. He flashed a panicked look at his brother, but Osamu only shook his head and didn’t say anything. 
He looked back into his phone screen, at his grandmother’s happy expression. If there was one thing Atsumu hated, it was letting down the people important to him.
Meekly, he nodded and forced a smile to his face. “Of course, Grandma. Don’t say I don’t do things for you.”
“Silly child,” said Grandma Miya affectionately, and that had been that.
Atsumu has since paced in front of the living room couch exactly eight times after Osamu pressed end on the call. He twirls in his spot, ready for his ninth walk around the living room. His brother sits on the sofa with one leg thrown up, watching him amusedly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“Okay,” Osamu interjects. “Swearing isn’t gon’ help your situation.”
“What else can I do?” Atsumu wails pathetically, flopping onto the sofa next to his brother. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Glad to know you’re aware.”
“Samu, what do I do?” Atsumu leans his elbows on his knees and holds his hand in his hands. “‘m so screwed.”
“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to get Grandma’s hopes up for nothin’.”
Atsumu huffs, annoyed at both himself and his brother for being so unhelpful. “I know that, asshole. I jus’ meant— What the fuck do I do about it now?”
Osamu pats his brother on the shoulder, a sympathetic look on his face. “Tsumu, I can think of only one solution.”
“What?”
“You need to find yourself a girlfriend.”
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Atsumu wrinkles his nose when you wave a bottle of some sort of bubbly, green-coloured concoction at his face. It looks disgusting even through the translucent plastic, and he has no doubt that it’ll taste twice as bad.
“Eugh. What’s that?”
“Wow. It’s so nice to see you too, Atsumu. I’ve only just flown back from halfway across the world after two weeks. No big deal at all,” you deadpan, staring at him.
“Yeah, I’m so happy you’re back, but what is that, and is it for me?”
Atsumu is glad you’re back—you’d gone overseas on your first ever business trip at the company you work at, and he’d missed your presence at the Tokyo apartment right next to his. He tries to verbalise it, but truthfully, his attention is solely fixed on the green muck you’re holding out to him.
“It is, actually,” you reply, shoving it into his waiting hands so he can scrutinise it better. You turn back and rummage through your open suitcase, pulling out an identical bottle—only this one is filled with something that looks like a cross between a squashed pumpkin and a gruesome shade of brown he doesn’t want to define. “And this one’s for Osamu. Can you give it to him the next time you go back to Hyogo?”
He lets out a sound of disgust, puffing out his cheeks and blowing a raspberry at you. “You couldn’t have gotten us somethin’ more… eatable?”
“Edible, Atsumu,” you correct, walking around the luggage strewn about your living room and plopping down on your sofa with a grunt. “This is what’s popular everywhere now. Apparently.”
“That doesn’t sound very optimistic,” he points out, sitting down next to you. Atsumu holds the drink bottle close to his face and squints at the ingredients printed on the back in a tiny font. “Is that… spinach?”
“Yeah.”
“And…” he continues, “kale? What’s a kale?”
“It’s some kind of leaf? Kinda like spinach,” you say, shrugging. 
“Oh, wonderful. This is a cocktail for cows.”
You huff out a soft laugh, shoulders shaking with the movement. Atsumu grins, pleased that he’s made you smile. 
“It’s supposed to be healthy, Tsumu. And you’re a professional volleyball player so I figured you’d drink stuff like this.”
“Sounds like a nightmare.” Atsumu shudders, but pockets the bottle anyway. It bulges out of the side of his cargo pants and he might look a little silly, but it’s really the thought that counts; the fact that you’d bought this drink with him in mind makes his heart rate spike. He nods at the muddy orange drink you left on the floor, meant for Osamu. “What’s in that one?”
“Carrot and squash, if I remember correctly.”
Atsumu gags. “Did’ya pick the worst flavours or somethin’? You say this is popular?”
You nod, a little embarrassed. “They were selling it everywhere I went!” you defend. “I just figured it was, like, the thing, or whatever.”
“If me and the team promoted this, it’d be sold out in no time,” he says thoughtfully. “Even if it tastes like a gourmet meal for goats.”
“So humble.” You roll your eyes, letting your head fall back on the couch cushion. 
Your airport clothes—a hoodie and jeans—stick uncomfortably to your skin after hours of being airborne, and you scratch your elbow. Atsumu thinks it must be annoying; you must be itching to peel off your clothes and take a warm shower.
But first, Miya Atsumu needs to ask you out.
He tries not to let the wording mess with his head. He’s doing this for his grandmother, and most certainly not because of the self-indulgent fantasies his mind conjures up for him when he’s asleep. Dreams of holding your hand, walking through the cherry blossoms together, kissing your cheek and taking in your delighted gasp—they haunt him even in his waking moments, and Atsumu aches to make them turn into a reality.
He acknowledges that he is a coward in some ways. This is one of them.
“Hey…” he begins, and then trails off, unsure.
“Hm?”
“That bottle of muck you got for Osamu—” Atsumu gulps, ignoring the hammering of his heart inside his chest. “Think he’d like it more if you gave it to him yourself.”
You sigh. “I would love to, Atsumu, but I don’t know when I’ll be going to Hyogo next. I don’t want that milkshake to stay rotting in my fridge for, like, six months.”
“Well… I’m goin’ there next Saturday. Wanna come with?”
“I don’t know…”
“C’mon. It’s Shohei’s wedding. You can’t miss it. Grandma Miya specifically told me to tell you to get your ass down there.”
It’s a lie that slips easily through his teeth, but he’s not exactly wrong, is he? Just—bending the truth a little. Grandma Miya did tell him to bring his girlfriend with him, and if he thinks about it, you are his girl friend, aren’t you? With a space in between the two words, but that’s just semantics. Atsumu ignores the voice in the back of his mind that tells him he’s coming up with excuses that he used to think of when he was in elementary school. 
“I’ll think about it—”
“You have to,” Atsumu implores, briefly letting go of his pride in favour of convincing you to come with him to his hometown. “It’ll be a nice break. You can meet Samu and Shohei. Have fun at a wedding—you know how fun Miya weddings are. Get dressed up, dance around a bit. And Grandma would be ecstatic if you came.”
“Ecstatic…” you echo, an amused smile flickering on your face. “Did Osamu teach you that word?”
“Yes,” he says immediately. “But that’s not the point! The point is, I want your company for Shohei’s wedding.”
Atsumu waits for his words to sink in. He notices your sharp inhale when he emphasises on the fact that he wants you there. This one is the truth, and nothing but; there is no one else he would rather go to his cousin’s wedding with. 
For all the lies he’s spouted out this afternoon, some part of Miya Atsumu wants you to recognise that he’s not lying this time.
“So, please,” he continues quietly, “will you come with me to Shohei’s wedding?”
You look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. A moment later, you nod.
“...Fine. But you’re paying for the train tickets.”
Atsumu’s exhale is both relieved and anticipatory.
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It takes exactly two hours and forty-six minutes to get to Hyogo from Tokyo by train. Atsumu purchases the tickets, partly because you’d asked him to, but mostly because of the steady feeling of guilt gnawing at his chest. He even purchases tickets for the first-class coach, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, even going so far as to give up the window seat for the aisle one.
“You’re being weirdly nice,” you note suspiciously, as he hefts your suitcase onto the rack above. 
Atsumu grunts with exertion, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He takes in the small bob of your throat at the sight with a gleeful sense of pride. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I’m always nice.”
Luggage secured successfully, he rubs the palms of his hands on his jeans and settles down into the seat next to you. The plush cushion is soft and velvety to the touch, a dark shade of blue that’s soothing to the eye. As he looks around, he can’t help but notice that the rest of the passengers consist of old people—senior citizens, with wobbly knees and wrinkled skin. Old and married, they must be on their way back to their hometown after visiting their children and grandchildren in Tokyo. As far as he can tell, you and Atsumu are the only two people here who don’t have a relationship beyond the platonic. There’s the occasional family of four: a tired husband, an even more tired wife, and two boisterous children. One child, no more than four years old, with her hair done up in two pigtails, points a chubby finger at him.
“Mama, look! That man looks like Pikachu!” she exclaims loudly.
You giggle at the chagrined look on Atsumu’s face, and his heart lifts slightly at the sound.
“Komi! Shhh. It’s rude to point at people.” Her mother pulls her hand down, giving Atsumu an apologetic bow of her head.
“She has a point, I guess,” you whisper to your friend, nudging his shoulder.
“The point being…?”
“You do look like Pikachu.”
“Huh?”
“Your hair, Tsumu.” You grin mischievously. “It’s yellow. You’re practically halfway to having electric powers.”
Atsumu flushes. He runs a hand through his dyed-blond hair self-consciously. “That bad, eh?”
“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Your fans seem to like it.”
“And you?” he asks softly. “You’ve never told me what you think.”
You hum and look away, fiddling with your phone case. “If you like it, then I like it.”
“That’s not even an answer.” Still, Atsumu will admit that your reply makes him happy.
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”
“It’s—”
“You both argue like Mama an’ Papa.”
Startled, you and Atsumu look in front of you. Komi pokes her head out from the seat in front of you, a wide grin on her lips. You stifle a laugh; it turns out Komi and her brother have occupied the seats in front of you and him. The tips of Atsumu’s ears turn crimson—whether with embarrassment at being caught bickering by a four-year-old, or at Komi’s previous comment about his hair, he isn’t sure.
“Hello, there,” you greet the small girl with a grin as wide as hers. “Komi, isn’t it?”
She nods, her pigtails rocking with the movement. “‘m Komi! An’ my brother is Kento!”
“It’s very nice to meet you both, Komi and Kento,” you say, solemnly holding out a hand for her to shake. Although you haven’t met her brother, you can hear his excited babbles from his location on his mother’s lap. “I’m ____, and this is my friend, Atsumu.”
“But you can call me Tsum,” Atsumu supplies, knowing it must be hard for the little one to pronounce his name properly.
Komi shakes your hand with the sort of vigour that one only has at the young age of four, and then glances expectantly at Atsumu. He holds out his hand as well, and the little girl grips it with all the strength she can muster. Her soft palm is sticky; once she releases it, he tries to discreetly rub his own palm on the seat in front of him, garnering a frown from you.
Slowly, the train begins to chug forward.
“Tsum and ____,” Komi says, “are you both like Mama an’ Papa?”
“Like… Mama and Papa?” you repeat, tilting your head.
“Yeah! Like, sleepin’ in the same room an’ givin’ each other kissies while cooking dinner!”
Atsumu gapes at the child. He feels his face heat up at the insinuation—if Komi thought his hair was like Pikachu earlier, then now she’d surely think his entire face was akin to Charmeleon, or something of that sort. Unable to answer, he glances at you.
Your face settles in an expression that he can only describe as pained amusement. Your lips twitch up, finding the whole situation funny, but you pick at your cuticles at the same time. A chuckle forces its way out of his mouth.
“That’s right, Komi,” Atsumu says. “Except we aren’t… married yet.”
The girl tilts her head, confused. “Wha’s that mean?”
“It means” —Atsumu pauses, just enough to notice the stupefied glower you give him— “that we haven’t promised each other what your Mama and Papa promised each other.”
“Oh!” Komi gasps, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She grips the seat with her tiny hands, clearly thrilled at his words. “Like a pinkie promise?”
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Atsumu scolds himself yet again for letting his mouth run loose all the damn time. How is he supposed to break this poor, innocent girl’s heart by telling her that you and Atsumu aren’t married? Heck, you aren’t even dating, and he doesn’t even know if you want to get married to someone eventually. He wishes he could blabber about his feelings for you directly to you—but it appears that he is tongue-tied only around you, as well. The irony isn’t lost on him.
Regardless, he cannot take back his words now, which means he must plough on.
Ignoring your pointed glare, he nods. “Exactly. You’re very smart, aren’t you, Komi?”
“‘m the third in my class!” The girl beams proudly.
“Really?” Atsumu gasps. “I was only fifth!”
“From the bottom,” you interject, seemingly having finally found your voice.
“Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just trying to make me look stupid.”
Komi giggles. “Papa says that’s a bad word.”
“And Papa is right.” Atsumu nods. “Idiot is also a bad word.”
“You’re so brilliant, Tsumu,” you mutter. “Teaching her bad words by saying they’re bad. Genius.”
“See, Komi, now what ____ did is something called sarchasm—”
You let out an odd noise, something in between an exasperated sigh and an amused giggle.
“...And now she’s laughin’ at me,” Atsumu finishes, staring at Komi and shaking his head ruefully. “Can’t believe I’m payin’ for this one’s train tickets.”
Komi’s curious gaze darts between you and Atsumu, a little confused but wholly entertained. “Stop, stop, stop!” She holds her palms out as though she’s a judge imparting all her four-years worth of knowledge to pass her verdict. “Both of you need to make a pinkie promise.”
You blink. “What for, Komi?”
“To always love each other. Forever an’ ever, until you both die!” she declares seriously.
Atsumu’s smile turns soft around the edges. Ah, the child-like innocence that vanishes so quickly. He doesn’t remember much of his own childhood—it’s mostly just a blur of juvenile volleyball and fistfights with Osamu and Aran, and playdates where you would come over with your mother and the three of you would romp around with the twins’ toy dinosaurs—but he hopes he had the same sort of faith in the world that little Komi so proudly presents to him. 
He turns to you, fingers already twitching with the urge to wrap his little finger around yours. “I think you have a point, Komi. Whaddya say?”
“I agree,” you say quietly, shifting slightly in your seat.
Atsumu gently takes your hand in his, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. Your skin is soft, a little bit clammy, but so is his. He swallows thickly, nervous for no reason at all, and says:
“____, I promise to love you forever and ever, until we both die.”
“I, um” —you inhale shakily— “I promise to do the same.”
He squeezes lightly and then lets go, letting his hand drop down to his lap. It was only a brief moment of contact—barely thirty seconds—but Atsumu’s finger twitches again; he aches to prolong the contact, to hold not just your finger but your entire palm, encase it within his hand’s confines, and never let you go.
“No, you didn’ do it properly!” Komi whines, her chubby fingers tightening around the headrest. 
The volleyball player’s gaze snaps back to his small friend’s face. Gruffly, still wary, he asks, “What did we do wrong, Komi?”
“Mama an’ Papa always make me an’ Kento kiss after we fight! You should do the same!”
“But we haven’t fought, Komi,” you try to gently persuade her from exacerbating your situation. 
It doesn’t work. Komi is adamant, as most children are, and Atsumu senses the beginning of a tantrum. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Komi and Kento’s parents napping in their seats, probably taking a well-deserved break from handling two kids. He doesn’t want to wake them up, all because he couldn’t satisfy their daughter’s harmless demands.
“All right, all right,” he says, flashing Komi a winning smile. “We’ll kiss to seal the deal, ‘kay?”
Next to him, he hears your sharp intake of breath. Atsumu’s heart thuds in his chest, a marching band of his own. The words just slipped out—as they always do. It is his fatal flaw.
Before he can turn towards you, he freezes. 
You kiss him on his cheek. 
You kissed him.
He can feel remnants of your lip balm on his skin, a slightly oily residue that he doesn’t bother wiping away. His brain feels like it’s a laptop with the Blue Screen Of Death causing it to cease all functions; blood rushes to his ears.
“There,” you tell Komi with an air of finality. “Pinkie promise made properly.”
The girl giggles and claps her hands, but he can tell she’s getting tired as well. With one last parting smile, she turns back around, presumably to nap for the one hour of travel left.
Atsumu’s cheek tingles at the spot where you kissed him. He resists the urge to brush his fingers against it, conscious of the fact that you might find it weird. Instead, he forces down the giddy smile that threatens to overcome his face and joins you in silently observing the countryside whip past him through the window.
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Jealousy is an emotion Miya Atsumu grapples with rather frequently, and it’s no exception when he sees his brother tackle you into a hug as soon as he lays eyes upon you both.
Meanwhile, he’s left standing at the genkan, carrying both your bags and suitcases. Osamu doesn’t even spare him a look. Atsumu scowls; is this what their brotherly love has been reduced to?
“Don’ mind me,” he announces, toeing off his shoes and socks. “‘m just a luggage carrier.”
“Guest room’s all yours,” his brother says, arm still wrapped around your shoulder. 
You snicker at Atsumu’s disgruntled expression and he rolls his eyes. Hefting a bag on his shoulder, he smirks and shoots back, “Someone’s gotta be the useful one. Cookin’ isn’t gonna save your life.”
“Dinner’s on you, Tsumu,” Osamu calls out to his retreating back. “And then we’ll see who survives after eatin’ your food.”
Atsumu blanches, but he sees the amused tilt of your head and flashes a winning grin at you instead, trying to quell the envy that bubbles in his chest when he sees Osamu whisper something into your ear and you giggle. 
After depositing your bags in the guest room, Atsumu heads upstairs to put his own luggage away and wash up a little. He can hear the sounds of you and Osamu talking and laughing downstairs, taking the time to catch up on everything you’d missed in Hyogo district—about the twins’ mother and her little circle of friends, the news about when one of their neighbours threatened to cut down another person’s apple tree—and your delighted laugh sends a ripple of something warm down his spine. 
He knows he’s well and truly fucked when he thinks about how much he wishes he could be the one to draw those elated sounds out of your mouth.
Downstairs, you’re doubled over with laughter as Osamu regales you with the story of their Grandma Miya accidentally crashing the wrong knitting circle and not realising until three meetings in that they were discussing trashy romance webnovels instead of actually knitting. Atsumu lingers at the top of the stairs, listening to your guffaws. You snort, once, and it sends you and Osamu into peals of laughter again. His fingers curl around the bannister.
The volleyball player steels himself, plastering on a confident smile as he saunters down the stairs.
“Oi, what’s so funny?” he drawls. “Ya laughin’ without me now?”
“Just tellin’ her about Grandma’s new knitting club,” Osamu says. “She’s startin’ to think she can direct a romantic drama now.”
“I mean, she probably could,” you agree, smiling. “From what I know of her, your grandmother is a force.”
Atsumu scoffs, dropping into the armchair closest to you. He mutters, “A force that guilt-tripped me into bringin’ a date to the wedding.”
Osamu snickers. You tilt your head, curious. “A date for Shohei’s wedding?”
“Yeah. And if I show up without one, I’m doomed. Grandma’ll start parading me around to every eligible bachelorette she’s ever met—the neighbours, the cashier at the konbini I said looks cute, random strangers on the street.”
The corner of your mouth quirks up. “That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe you’ll find someone perfect.”
Atsumu swallows down a groan. The last thing he needs is for you to think he’s taking his grandmother’s matchmaking seriously. “Nah, it’s a nightmare waiting to happen. Imagine Grandma introducin’ me to that one lady who brought natto salad to her friend’s birthday party.”
Osamu barks out a laugh. “Everyone ended up with really bad diarrhea that day,” he explains to you. “Guess Tsumu will hafta rely on me for cookin’ unless he wants bowel problems by the time he’s thirty.”
“As if,” Atsumu says quickly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Point is, I need someone to save me from this circus.”
“Hm, better start polishing your flirtin’ skills, Atsumu.” You give him a teasing smile.
His eyes lock with yours for a fraction of a second longer than he intends, and the words sit heavy on his tongue. You’re my date. I was thinkin’ of asking you. But his throat tightens; instead, he tosses a pillow at his twin brother to cover his nerves.
“You busy, Samu? Wanna be my date?” he jokes, deflecting easily.
Osamu catches the pillow without missing a beat, and then shudders. “Not a chance. The second they see me with you, they’ll think you’ve finally lost it.”
“Hasn’t he already?” you pipe up. 
Atsumu clutches his chest dramatically. “Even you, ____? Betrayed in my own home!”
“Technically, it’s Samu’s home.”
Osamu grins triumphantly. Atsumu sneers.
“Well, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ll find someone. Real classy. Someone who’ll shut Grandma up for a whole year.”
His brother rolls his eyes. “Sure you will, Tsumu.”
You glance at Atsumu again, lips pressed together in a thin line. There’s something indecipherable in your eyes, the way your forehead is creased ever-so slightly. Before he can say anything, Osamu’s phone rings. He excuses himself to take the call, leaving the two of you alone.
“Who’s the lucky fake date?” you ask after a beat. You don’t meet his gaze.
He rubs the back of his neck, debating his next move. His heart pounds as he tries to muster some semblance of courage, but all he manages is a lopsided grin and a shrug.
“Dunno. Guess I’ll know when I see her.”
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“We have a problem.”
“We do?” Atsumu has only just woken up. His brain is still struggling to catch up with the rest of him; he blinks once, twice, waiting for your statement to sink in. 
“Get up, loser,” you say, walking into his bedroom like you own the place. You flick his duvet off of his body. “We’re going shopping.”
Atsumu sits up, pressing his palms to his face and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The duvet slips further down.
“Fuck!” you yelp, immediately turning around. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t see anythin’.”
A shiver ripples through his body. Without the warmth of his blanket cocooning his body, the cold of the morning seeps into his skin. He’s trying to figure out why, exactly, he’s being presented with a marvellous view of your back, and what you’re apologising for, when the chill makes him shiver again.
Oh. He looks down at himself. 
Atsumu didn’t wear a shirt to bed.
His cheeks flood with heat, the back of his neck prickling with embarrassment. “Er. I’m wearin’ pants,” he says, like that’s going to be of any help.
“I’m, um, going to leave,” you say. Your voice sounds stilted—likely due to being similarly embarrassed by Atsumu’s bare-chestedness. Atsumu grunts in agreement. You walk out slowly, gingerly tip-toeing over a discarded pair of sweatpants he left lying on the floor.
You shut the door behind you, face lowered, and exaggeratedly twist the doorknob until it lets out a click sound, as though you’re showing him that you have not seen anything indecent. As though his abs have personally offended you. Like you’re a National Geographic narrator documenting a rare, disgruntled creature in the wild. 
The shirtless Miya Atsumu, with its ruffled plumage and tragic morning breath, appears to challenge the peace of its habitat.
Ha. Wouldn’t that be a hoot.
To his credit, Atsumu gives himself five minutes before he flops onto his stomach and screams into his pillow. Then, he rises and rummages through his closet for a shirt—he settles for a grey one that he probably stole from Osamu’s closet during high school—and, still mortified, slips out of his bedroom and heads downstairs to see if breakfast is ready.
He finds his mother and you sitting side-by-side on cushions by the chabudai. It’s the usual motherly nonsense she always spouts whenever you come over—gushing over your job, asking about your parents, and, of course, wondering if you have a boyfriend yet.
“Not yet, Miya-san,” you reply politely, though Atsumu can tell you’re a little embarrassed. Your eyebrows furrow just slightly, and it’s always a tic you’ve had, Atsumu’s discovered.
“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” his mother says. “Beautiful girls like you should have boys tripping over their own two feet to date you.”
Atsumu is sure he’s tripped over his own two feet in front of you enough times by now for him to be able to date you. He clears his throat and puts a little swagger to his step when he sits down opposite you. “Missed me, Ma?”
“Slightly lesser than how much I missed ____,” she says.
“Just adopt her already, why don’t you?” Atsumu quips, rolling his eyes.
His mother actually seems to consider this, as she presses her lips together. “Marry one of the twins, ____. You know I would love to have you as a daughter-in-law.”
Your eyes widen, and you flounder, beseechingly locking eyes with Atsumu and begging him to help you out. He smiles a little. He remembers why he brought you here in the first place. His smile gets wiped out in an instant.
It’s not as though Miya Atsumu doesn’t want to spend time with you. He knows Shohei would love to have you at his wedding, and Hyogo is a beautiful place to be at this time of the year. But the thought that he needs you to be a scapegoat to appease Grandma Miya niggles at the back of his mind, unforgiving. He really should tell you, he thinks.
Thankfully, you’re saved from his mother’s matchmaking attempts by Osamu, who walks in balancing bowls of rice and miso soup. He sets them down on the table expertly—Onigiri Miya has trained him well—and plops down on a cushion next to his brother. 
“Sorry for bein’ late,” he says gruffly. “Forgot to add salt in the miso.”
It smells delicious. Atsumu has to admit that he’s missed his brother’s cooking. After surviving on a majority of meals that were either konbini snacks or cheap ramen in Tokyo, home-cooked food makes his stomach grumble in a good way.
The four of you chorus your gratitude for the meal with bowed heads and folded palms, and then dig in. Atsumu slurps up the miso soup, chewing on a piece of tofu. It’s heavenly—it really is, and he nudges his brother’s side with his elbow to convey it. Osamu nudges back, and the table is silent for some time.
“Oh, by the way,” his mother says, “we need to get your suits from the dry cleaners. I have to go help your aunt out with last-minute wedding preparations, so I need one of you to do it.”
“Not me,” Osamu says. “I’ve got a restaurant to run.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that, Osamu,” she continues, giving him a small smile. “That’s why I asked ____ to wake up Atsumu early today. Both of you still have the same build, so Atsumu can go to the tailor’s to see if it fits or if he needs any adjustments.”
“Oh,” says Atsumu. You don’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t know we had actual work to do today.”
“I also offered to buy ____ a dress, but she refused.” His mother casts a quick, affectionate glance at you. “So, Atsumu, I need you to buy her one, all right? Get her a gorgeous one.”
“O’course I will,” he says, quietly.
Osamu looks curiously between you both. “Didn’t ____ tell you all this when she came to wake you up, Tsumu?”
A wad of rice gets lodged in Atsumu’s throat. You accidentally inhale miso soup through your nose. Both of you cough and splutter.
Osamu frantically pats Atsumu’s back, while you, eyes watering, accept a glass of water from the twins’ mother. Something unfurls inside Atsumu’s chest at the thought of spending the whole day with you, getting his suit tailored and buying you a dress.  
It’s almost like you’re actually his date for his cousin’s wedding.
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Is it weird that Miya Atsumu wants to see your reaction to him wearing a suit? Is he being presumptuous in the way he lifts his chin and puffs out his chest so that the tuxedo fits him better? What are your thoughts about men wearing tuxedos and ties, in general? Should he buy a tie that matches your dress?
This, and other such mysteries of life, are what the volleyball player ponders over in the tiny fitting room while one of the seamsters kneels in front of him and measures the length of his leg with measuring tape. 
Atsumu has to constantly remind himself that you don’t know he’s your date yet. The wedding is tomorrow. He doesn’t know if he has it in him to stick it out until then. 
“All done,” the seamster announces, getting back to his feet. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be able to alter this to the right size.”
“Thanks,” Atsumu mumbles, pulling back the curtain and heading outside. 
You’re sitting on one of the couches they’ve kept by the corner of the shop, scrolling through something on your phone. The bag with your new dress—his mother’s gift to you—is placed on the floor by your feet. He doesn’t know what the dress looks like; you’d insisted on buying it secretly because it was, apparently, embarrassing to go dress-shopping with a close friend who happens to be a well-built, devilishly handsome, popular, famous pro-volleyball player. 
Not that you said those words exactly, but Atsumu can fill in the blanks.
He plops down next to you, leaning back and circling his head to get rid of the cricks in his neck. You put your phone away and glance at him.
“Take a picture,” Atsumu says, not looking back at you. “Lasts longer.”
“If only your face actually looked good in photos.”
“My face looks excellent. Haven’t ya seen me and Bokuto in the Calpis advertisement?” It was a small gig they’d gotten right after the Olympics season. Kuroo had said it would make for good PR, and Atsumu and Bokuto jumped at the chance to have their small five minutes of fame. Shouyou had sulked about not being a part of it for two weeks straight afterwards.
“I have, actually,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know I wouldn’t ever miss out on that. I’m surprised no one here’s recognised you yet.”
“Livin’ under a rock, the whole lot of them,” Atsumu mutters.
You laugh softly. “The fame’s gone to your head, Atsumu. Don’t forget me when you and the team go gallivanting across the country.”
“You know I wouldn’t ever be able to forget you,” he says, after a beat. “You’re, like, a part of me now.”
You blink. “That’s kind of weird.”
Atsumu’s cheeks burn. How is it that he always, always fumbles so much in front of you? It’s like his brain sees you and immediately decides to unplug itself for maintenance. He gulps, thinking of ways to salvage whatever dignity he has left.
“‘S not weird,” he forces out. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I think you spent more time at our house durin’ elementary school than you did at your own.”
“Fair enough,” you acquiesce. Shifting slightly, you eye the bit of fabric from your dress that pokes out of the paper bag. “Still can’t believe your mom insisted on getting me a dress,” you murmur, lightly brushing your fingertips against the edge of the bag. “It’s a bit over-the-top, don’t you think?”
“She just likes you a lot,” he responds. “Honestly, I’m startin’ the think she likes you more than me or Osamu.”
“That’s not a very high bar.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no malice in the action. “But it’s probably ‘cause I didn’t dunk her favourite teapot into the toilet when I was seven.”
“That was an accident! And I apologised more than a hundred times!”
“Yeah, and I’m sure the apology totally made up for the fact that you made Osamu stick his hand down there and fish it out for you.”
“Why d’you always take his side?” Atsumu grumbles. “Can’t ever catch a break with both of you around, I swear.”
You lean back, shoulder brushing against his. Atsumu can feel your gaze roving over his face; he bites the inside of his cheek, feeling strangely self-conscious.
“Maybe,” you say, “I just enjoy making fun of you. You always make fun of me back. It’s nice.”
Atsumu swallows hard, trying to focus on anything else—the tacky wallpaper, the sound of pop music blaring from the shop next door. Anything but the way your words make his heart somersault, or the way your smile lingers for a second more than usual. 
“That’s cruel, yaknow,” he manages to say. “Gangin’ up on me all the time. Makes a guy feel unloved.”
You stay quiet, thoughtfully steepling your fingers under your chin. Atsumu glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your expression doesn’t betray anything, until you reach out and gently grasp his wrist.
“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “Didn’t realise you didn’t like it.”
Miya Atsumu is certain—not for the first time in his life—that he’s utterly doomed. It’s a little bit pathetic, really. It started back in middle school, and still, somehow, he’s unable to move on. You’ve consumed him. Your thumb brushes over the veins on his wrist; he wonders if you can feel his pulse racing.
“Don’t stop,” he says, because what else does a fool in love say?
“Atsumu, I—”
You’re interrupted by the seamster, who calls Atsumu over to the register to finish his billing. He grits his teeth. This is the worst sort of interruption ever. He turns to face you properly, because maybe if he pretends he didn’t hear the tailor, you’ll tell him what you were about to say. 
But your face is carefully blank, your lips pressed together. “Go on,” you tell him. “Don’t forget to collect Osamu’s tux, too.”
“Yeah, okay.” Atsumu nods once, twice. He gently extricates his hand from your grasp, as much as he dislikes it. “I’ll, uh, go do that, then.”
“Okay.”
Atsumu hates this. He’s not sure if he even wants to attend the wedding anymore. All his relatives are going to heckle him about his love life—and that’s fine, he can deal with them. He just doesn’t want his grandmother’s face to crumple with disappointment on finding out her grandson’s whole “relationship” was a farce. Feeling sick to his stomach, he pays for the alterations done to his and his brother’s outfits, and gestures for you to accompany him outside. 
You don’t meet his eyes the entire way back home.
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It’s the eve of the wedding reception, and Miya Atsumu can’t find you anywhere.
The reception hall is lovely. Golden lanterns hang from the ceiling, enveloping everyone in a soft, warm glow. Vases of peonies and cherry blossoms, intertwined with sprigs of baby’s breath, are placed on top of the soft linen covering each table. The delicate strains of a koto and shamisen ensemble weave through the air. The centerpiece stage, framed by cascading fairy lights and flowing silk, bear the names of the bride and the groom, written in exquisite calligraphy. An array of traditional Japanese sweets and cups of sake are placed on a long table by the corner of the hall.
Shohei and Sakura sit by the shintaku, looking resplendent in their outfits, surrounded by family members and friends. He’s already congratulated them, clapping his cousin on the back and winking proudly at Sakura. You’re nowhere near them, so he tries the snack table instead.
Atsumu hides his mounting worry by shoving a piece of mochi into his mouth. He racks his brain, trying to think of other possible hideouts where he can find you. It’s not like you to disappear like this—and it’s a shame, really, because all he wants is to be by your side this evening. Osamu is posing for a group photo with his second cousins and his mother is helping his aunt with the gift bags, but you’re not anywhere near them either.
He knows you won’t be at the smoking area where his uncle has held court all evening, but he decides to check anyway. Atsumu gives the area a cursory glance, confirming that you’re not among them, before hastily walking out. He curses under his breath, his usual confidence giving way to an unfamiliar, gnawing unease.
You’re supposed to be here. You said you’d be here.
He adjusts the lapels of his tailored suit and forces himself to think rationally. You’re probably just outside, he tells himself, getting some air or hiding from the relentless matchmaking attempts of meddlesome aunts. It’s probably fine. It has to be.
Atsumu’s footsteps turn towards the garden doors. His urgency is masked by the cocky, practiced demeanour he wears like a second skin.
“Atsumu, boy, where d’you think you’re running off to now?”
The volleyball player freezes mid-step. He exhales slowly and drags a hand through his meticulously styled hair before turning around.
Grandma Miya stands by the hall’s entrance, wearing a lavender kimono that glows under the warm lights. Her lacquered cane gleams as she taps it softly against the polished floor. Despite her diminutive frame, his grandmother commands the space effortlessly. Sharp eyes—so like his own—pin him in place.
“‘M not runnin’ anywhere, Grandma,” Atsumu says, summoning a sheepish smile that he hopes will placate her. “Just, uh, checkin’ on something.”
Her eyebrows lift, arching in a way that shows she’s wholly unconvinced. “Checking on something or someone?”
Atsumu opens his mouth, an excuse perched on the tip of his tongue, but she raises a hand and continues before he can say anything. “Thought you ought to know—there’s a pretty girl standing outside in the garden cussin’ out your name like she’s auditioning for a sailor’s choir. Care to explain why?”
“Wait—outside?”
“So you do know her,” Grandma Miya states.
“Um. Yeah—I— She’s—” The grin he’s worn like armour falters under the Miya matriarch’s scrutinising gaze.
“Out with it, Tsumu,” she prompts, tapping her cane once on the floor. “Who is she?”
“She’s my… date,” Atsumu admits. The words tumble out awkwardly, and he can’t deny the way it sounds both weirdly foreign but strangely right at the same time. “For the wedding.”
His grandmother’s eyes narrow. “And why is she out there cursing you to Hell and back all alone in the cold?”
“I didn’t—” He stops, shoulders slumping. He knows there’s no point in lying—not to her. Grandma Miya has always been able to see right through him, as though his thoughts are scrawled across his face.
“She’s not really my date,” Atsumu mutters, gaze downcast. “I mean, she is, but she doesn’t… know that she is.”
Grandma Miya blinks, and then lets out a short huff of laughter. “Atsumu, are you tellin’ me you brought this poor girl here, told everyone she’s your date, but didn’t think to inform her of that little detail?”
“I didn’t forget,” Atsumu protests, though his words sound weak to his own ears. “I just didn’t have the chance to tell her.”
“Why would you go and do something so spectacularly foolish?”
He hesitates, avoiding her eyes. “‘Cause I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says quietly, the admission dragging itself out of his throat.
His grandmother’s smile fades, and without it, her wrinkles look more and more pronounced. “Disappoint me?”
“Yeah,” Atsumu whispers. “You’re always askin’ me when I’m gonna bring someone home. You want to see me and Osamu get married, too, before you—” His voice catches. “Before. Um. I just wanted to make you happy, ‘s all.”
There’s a long pause, and when Grandma Miya speaks again, her voice is sadder than he expects. Classic Atsumu, he thinks bitterly. Always findin’ a way to mess things up for everyone.
“Atsumu, you daft boy,” his grandma says, “I don’t care if you bring someone or not. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”
Atsumu swallows, her words entering his chest and settling down with a warmth that wraps around his body. When he looks up, he finds her observing him not with judgement, but with quiet understanding.
“Are you happy?” she asks. 
Something about the way she says it is tinged with hope, and it makes his heart lift. The truth lodges in his throat, too big to swallow, too heavy to speak.
“I like her,” he blurts out finally. “A lot. But she doesn’t—she doesn’t know that either.”
Grandma Miya’s lips lift up in a grin—the same smile that passed on to his mother, and then to him and his brother. “Then go find her. Tell her the truth.”
“But what if—”
“No,” she says firmly. “Life’s too short for all that nonsense. If you care about her, you owe her the truth and an apology. Go on, now. Dinner’s starting soon.”
Atsumu nods, the corners of his lips twitching up in a small, grateful smile. She waves him off with her cane, before turning around and bellowing to Osamu to get her another cup of sake. He heads out to the garden.
The cool night air fills his lungs when he steps out of the ornate doors. He catches sight of you pacing near the koi pond; your movements are tight with frustration. The moonlight shimmers on the water, and dances across your face. The ends of your dress billow out because of the wind and Atsumu swears he forgets how to breathe.
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It’s not until he climbs down the steps and comes to a standstill in front of you that you finally acknowledge Atsumu. Even then, it’s with flaring nostrils and flashing eyes, and he knows he’s fucked up really badly this time.
“Atsumu,” you say, voice taut. “What the Hell is going on?”
He winces. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain everything. He tries to speak, but no words come out, and all he can do is watch helplessly as you curl your fingers into your palm with anger.
“Why the fuck did you tell your entire family that I’m your girlfriend?” you snap, when it becomes apparent he isn’t going to say anything. “What did you think was going to happen?”
A dozen half-baked excuses fly over his head, but none of them feel right. Grandma Miya was right—he owes you the truth—but first, he needs to find a way to calm you down.
“Do you realise how messed up that is?” you continue. Your voice increases in pitch, garnering the attention of a few wedding-goers milling about. “You didn’t ask me. You didn’t tell me anything. Do you know how embarrassing it was to get bombarded by all your relatives asking me how long we’ve been dating? They think we’re something that we’re not—fuck it all, they think I’m something I’m not.”
“I didn’t— I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Atsumu pleads, finally having found his voice. “I just—”
“Just what?! Just thought it would be easier? Just wanted to impress your family?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No. I just—shit, I dunno—I didn’t want my grandma to think I was screwing around. I didn’t want my relatives to look at me with pity ‘cause I can’t even stay in a decent relationship for longer than three weeks!”
Atsumu searches your face for something—some sort of reaction to his words. But you’re silent, and he can’t read your face. He can’t tell if you’re angry, hurt, both, or something else entirely, and it’s making him feel even more out of his depth.
“What were you thinking, Atsumu?” you ask softly. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and he resists the urge to give in and kiss you silly.
“I wasn’t thinkin’,” he says, hoarsely. “I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I should have.”
You don’t say anything for a long while; Atsumu thinks he’s said too much. But then, you speak and the bite in your voice has reduced.
“You didn’t think about me. You didn’t think ‘bout how I’d feel being that person for you.” 
Your words ring hollow in his ears. The hurt in your voice makes his stomach twist with guilt. He wants to defend himself, but what could he possibly say? Instead, he looks at you quietly, hoping against all hope that somehow you will understand.
“Fuck,” Atsumu mutters under his breath, more to himself than you. He takes a tentative step forward, but you hold up a hand.
“You don’t—” Your voice trembles. “You don’t get to just walk over to me and give me some half-assed apology, Atsumu.”
Atsumu stops, letting silence blanket you both once more. He stares at you for a moment, at your beautiful face and your beautiful dress, and without thinking, he steps closer, his hand reaching out.
You don’t pull away—not immediately.
He’s close enough now that he can see his reflection in your eyes, the small tremor in your lips. Something inside him shifts, something urgent, something that makes his head spin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing until it’s too late. 
He curls his hand around your waist and pulls you in, crashing your lips with his. He feels you stiffen at first—but then you kiss him back, hard and sharp, and everything in him unwinds.
It isn’t gentle or sweet. It isn’t tender, the way Atsumu had always imagined his first kiss with you would be like. It’s angry—you are angry at him, and he is angry at himself. 
It’s over far too quickly. Atsumu’s chest heaves with each breath he takes. You gawk at him, wide-eyed and breathless; a mirror to the expression on his own face, most likely. 
“I—” Atsumu starts, but the sentence gets lost somewhere in his brain when you take a step back.
“I’m not some… prop to your little charade, Atsumu,” you say. “So unless this means something to you—like it does for me—don’t do things you’ll regret.”
“I won’t,” Atsumu promises. His voice is gruff, his heartbeat a rapid staccato against his rib cage. “I could never. I like you too much for that.”
You look at him like he looked at you earlier—like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, like you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to commit him to memory. It comes out as a whisper when you say, “What?”
“God, ____, I like you. I like you so much I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re around.” He owes you the truth, and so the truth is what you will get. He’s not very good with words—you know this, and he’s sure you will recognise this for what it is: he’s laying his heart bare for you to take and keep safely for him.
“Me too,” you say. “Me too, Atsumu. Me too.”
He kisses you again, gentle and tender and sweet, his hand placed on the curve of your neck and your hands clutching the front of his shirt. 
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Osamu finds him and you later, curled into each other’s sides. Atsumu’s cheeks colour when his brother shoots him an impressed look.
“Finally,” he says. “Been waitin’ forever for this buffoon to get his head out of his ass and make a move.”
Atsumu doesn’t deny it, and you laugh softly. “Been waitin’ for him myself,” you say, squeezing his arm affectionately.
“Anyways,” says Osamu. “Grandma Miya’s lookin’ for Tsumu. She says she can’t wait to meet his new girlfriend.”
Atsumu’s mouth splits into a grin. “Tell her we’ll be right there,” he says.
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kissitbttr · 2 years ago
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miguel putting up with his girl’s princess attitude
-
“miguel!” you call out from the bathroom as your fingers delicately fix the straps of your bodycon dress. “can you come here for a minute?”
miguel sighs, this is the third time you keep calling him knowing how busy he is at the moment. work has gotten the best of him, and if reinventing new techs back to back isn’t enough to drain him, he has to keep up with your needs daily.
does he has the courage to say no to you, though? nope. as much as he hates to admit it because it’s embarrassing, he’s scared of you. if the spider society think that Miguel is too frightening then they have not seen you get mad or being a brat.
“coming, baby!” he walks out of his office while taking off his glasses, rolling the sleeves of his henley shirt to his elbows.
the bathroom door is left wide open, immediately seeing you standing before the mirror in a long and tight fitting grey dress that falls just around your ankles. and just like that, his annoyance completely washed off,
he takes a good look at you. eyes slowly observing every single detail of your face and down to your body. the way that dress hugs your curves and accentuate your best assets should be a crime,
God, you’re such a perfection.
“shut your mouth before you catch flies, babe” you jokingly say as your fiancee stares at you with his jaw slightly agape. “mind helping me?”
Miguel clears his throat after, slightly smirking as he shrug his shoulders. he leans against the door way with his arms crossed, eyes never leaving yours.
“you look absolutely divine, mi amor.” he comments, taking his lower lip between his teeth. “is that new?” he points at the dress,
rolling your eyes playfully, you try to keep your composure still. even after three years of dating—now engaged— he still manages to make your heart skips and create butterflies in the pit of your stomach,
“I know” you reply in confidence, winking at him which he chuckles in return. “and yes it is! it’s SKIMS! got it yesterday, does it look good on me?”
he frowns, tilting his head to the side. “baby, you already know the answer to that come on now… you make anything look sexy.” he strides closer to you as he stands from behind you, “now, què necesitas?” he questions, resting his hands on his hips
you find it attractive how he towers over you, and it’s one thing that you love about him. it’s not that you’re petite or anything. but compared to how tall and big he is, you’re definitely tiny.
“straighten my hair for me please? I can’t reach it” you pout at him through the mirror, “just this part right here” fingers move to the back to touch part of your hair,
“ay dios mio, woman… you’re lucky i love you” he teases before grabbing the iron from the sink. “going out with the girls, mami? i assume lunch?” he asks as he starts parting your hair with one hand,
your head shakes, straightening the dress. “no, I’m doing cake testing today and wedding dresses … Darla is bringing three more flavors.”
he stops what he’s doing, giving you a confused look. “alone? cariño why didn’t you tell me? you know I’d come with you” he feels a bit disappointed and now guilty that he’s busying himself with work and instead you’re left dealing with your wedding, alone.
his hand rests on your shoulder and you move yours on top of him. “hey, it’s okay, Miggy… you’ve been so stressed lately i do not want to put more pressure… it was last minute anyway, she texted me this morning.”
“you’re my girl, i would never be too busy for you.” he says almost too fast,
giving him a sincere smile, you nod your head. “yes… i know, baby. trust me it’s okay…plus it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride in a wedding dress” you giggle a bit. “we can go over the seating arrangements again together, yeah? i promise” you plant a soft kiss on his finger,
Miguel exhales a sigh, still feeling tiny bit upset that he won’t be there to keep you company. “okay, fine… tell Darla that keep vegan options open for the cakes.”
“noted, honey.” you tell him as he continues to straighten your hair, “is everything okay with work?”
he nods, eyes too fixated on your long hair, not wanting to mess up a single strand. “just running over a few reports and fixing few minor defects on the techs and my suit…the last guy did quite a number on me.”
“hmm i love it when you speak science to me” you comment, watching him laugh a bit at your flirty remark. “but you still need to be careful. i do not want to see my future husband all bruised up when i walk down that aisle or else I’ll leave your ass.” your tone comes off demanding and firm, but it’s only because you care.
“yes ma’am” he replies, setting down the hot object down on the sink before slowly running his fingers through your hair. “there you go, baby” he moves your hair to the front, kissing your cheek and seeing you smile just makes him happy. knowing he’s done a great job.
turning around to face him, you stand on your toes to kiss his lips. “thank you, miggy… I’ll see you later, okay? we can go grab dinner outside and then movie night at 9?”
his heart warms at that and lips stretches into a large grin. “sounds like a plan.” then he lightly slaps your ass as you walk out of the door,
“let me know if there’s going to be bunch of assholes staring at you today, I’ll hunt them down and fucking kill them on the spot.” he mentions as if it’s nothing
and they say romance is dead.
-
cake testing with miggy!
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byoldervine · 2 months ago
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Writing Tips - Character Strengths And Weaknesses
So characters need to have strong and weak points to keep them interesting and prevent them from seeming too stagnant; a character without strengths feels flat and boring, while a character without weaknesses feels overpowered and stagnant. So when it comes to character creation, how do we come up with good strengths and weaknesses?
1. Archetype. What role does your character fill in the story? Would any of the typical strengths and weaknesses for characters in that role apply to them? Could they be modified or altered to better fit?
2. Backstory. What was their childhood like? Do they have good relationships with their family? Have they worked in certain jobs or participated in activities that would lend themself to a certain skillset, or lack of? What struggles have they faced in the past that might have shaped who they are, for better or for worse?
3. Personality. What is this character like? How much of it comes naturally to them? Is any of it a learned behaviour or coping mechanism? Is any of it an act? How aware are they of this? Is it intentional or just a force of habit? Are the strengths and weaknesses you’re considering compatible with the person they truly are, even if they’re not compatible with the act they might put on?
4. Speaking of compatibility. Does it make sense that your character would have certain strengths or weaknesses depending on these other factors of their life? Are the strengths and weaknesses even compatible with each other? A patient character isn’t likely to be reckless or have a short temper, for example, though of course any combo has the possibility to work when approached with care and consideration
5. Double-edged sword. An easier and, in my personal opinion more interesting, way to approach it is to make the strength and weaknesses stem from the same character trait. A selfless character could struggle to prioritise themself. A loyal character could compromise themself or their objectivity in favour of supporting the people they care about. An overconfident character could get in over their head and underestimate the danger they’re in while taking unnecessary risks, but it would also lead them to taking on opportunities and challenges not many other people would, allowing them unique rewards for putting in the effort and courage. What character trait could you take to an extreme? Would it be good or bad for your character?
6. Character development. What about your character should be different from where they started? Think about the kind of person you want them to be at the end of the story, then inverse that to get them at the start of the story. What journey do they need to go through to develop into the new version of themself? If you want them to end as a responsible, patient and selfless person, they need to start off irresponsible, reckless and selfish. And don’t forget that you can build up negative character traits, and that even heroic characters who are objectively good can keep their less heroic qualities
7. Contextual strengths. Remember in ATLA when Katara couldn’t do much of anything in the desert and Toph was unable to effectively sandbend to the extent she needed to compensate for her blindness? Their strengths were turned into weaknesses, which they later worked to compensate for and improve on. What situation would put your character into the same sort of situation? Are their strengths actually useful in most contexts, or just the context of their environment or situation? Are their weaknesses actually useful, and they’re just not in a position to see this? When taken out of their current situation, would they fumble or thrive?
8. Types of strengths and weaknesses. Characters might have physical strengths and weaknesses, such as physical disabilities, additional features, powers or curses, literal physical strength, etc, but they also might have mental strengths and weaknesses such as intelligence, dexterity, balance, problem solving, a wide range of skills or obscure knowledge, memory, quick-thinking, resourcefulness, social skills, gullibility, etc. Beyond this, there are also separate emotional strengths and weaknesses, such as compassion, emotional intelligence, compartmentalisation, emotional range, self-awareness, insecurities, etc. There’s so much that could become a strength or weakness, and characters can have as many as you like from all three areas
9. Nature vs nurture. What your character has been taught or trained to think and feel and behave like does not inherently mean that this is who they actually are. Depending on their environment and the people around them, two people with the same strengths and weaknesses could end up diverging at critical points to become entirely different people, or two people who couldn’t be any more different could land in a position where they both become more and more alike as time goes on. Our environment and the people in it can shape us, both in our past and in our futures, so don’t leave the present as something stagnant; if a certain trait makes sense for them to have but you don’t want them to have it, have them unlearn it
10. External conflict. What literal journey will your character go on for the story? What strength might be useful for it? What weakness could hinder their efforts? Would these work for their character? If all else fails, make it practical or impractical as desired
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certifiablyinsanez · 10 months ago
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I am haunted by the detailed, completed map of Hell that Edwin took notes on. You don’t understand, it makes me sick. It’s one thing to have a basic layout, a vague idea, or a rudimentary map but it was meticulously detailed. Down to doors and what they do and where they go. Down to secret spaces in the walls. He even knew what ringing an innocuous bell would do. It can only mean one thing. We don’t know when Edwin began trying to escape, but assuming he started from the get go, it means that he spent all his decades in Hell trying to find a way out. He never stopped running. And that is assuming he never stopped. From his second trip, we could see he resorted to his old ways and ran. But he was eventually caught, reduced to pieces. Even when Charles showed up, he didn’t seem very optimistic about their chances. He could feel every second of those 70 years. There were likely many times he fell to hopelessness, trembling in the corner watching himself be desecrated knowing it was going to happen again and again. How long? How many times did he try to be so, so quiet, hoping he would have a few moments before the next round? How many times did he muster the ability to run, just one more time? How long did it take him to run, discovering the ends of each ring? How many times did he sprint up, down, north, south, east, west, trying to escape? And what happened when he finally escaped? How long did it take for him to be able to relax, even a little? Because he can never relax. He must always outrun Death and her constituents because he can’t count on them to be fair. How many times does he look over his shoulder, waiting for the monster to claim its eternal meal once again? His breath of fresh air, his first taste of companionship in ages not only keeps him company, but sticks by him. And then, in that blessing there comes a curse, because now you have something to lose. Because when you taste ambrosia how can you return to starvation? He feels safe with Charles. Happy and comfortable, but the threat always lingers. And he knows that Charles couldn’t fend off Death. He never considered he could fend off Hell beasts; after all, he’s just a ghost kid. He watches innocents be slaughtered on repeat, unphased by the level of violence but no less affected by it, because no one has even a clue what it takes to be this kind. Even at his most happy, he has so, so much to lose and he goes back to Hell when hope was dangled in his face like the fruit of Tantalus. When he returns, he’s subjected to Hell once again, sustaining through torture that obliterates souls, only to watch his best friend, his confidant, his platonic soulmate, die horrifically. This woman who gave him sea-glass courage, so powerful and yet so fragile. Allowed him to be himself, gave him permission to do so. Was the openness to his closed self, and now she is gone. And he retains his composure, his stiff, British posture because it is what has saved him from madness and Despair, protected him, and now the world is darker without Niko Sasaki in it. But surely he saw this coming. After all, humans are messy. And yet, he shows up for their souls, time and time again.
Edwin Payne is THE character.
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sxorpiomooon · 6 months ago
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RANDOM THOUGHTS THAT PEOPLE HAVE ABOUT YOU - A PAC READING
Paid readings
$5 readings
Tip me
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pile 1-
"she's so brave" I think people admire your ability and courage to follow your heart and your passion and love for art or beauty. A lot of you are very creative people and people love that about you. Your ideas might be very shocking to people I also keep seeing clouds and paintings? A lot of people might attach you with the colour blue or see you as the colour blue. I also think this pile has a lot of secret admirers? This is very random but your juniors might like you a lot. You guys might be the type of person to have the "beauty and art is everywhere" sort of mentality I heard "the ability to make beauty out of nothing". People might also feel as if you take too much responsibilities onto yourself? I heard "how much can you really tolerate" and "burned out". You might also have the tendency to doubt yourself for no reason and people find it very confusing as to why you would do that
Pile 2-
my pile 2 the first thing I heard was "always ready to open new things" and then "venture" i think this pile is very determined. People might automatically open up to you or look up to you. I also see people being ready to start new adventures or do new things in your presence automatically. It's like if there is something new that needs to be started you are the person people will look at to do that. You guys have that leader or president personality. Very self sufficient on your own. "Oh she's rich rich". People might also think that you have a very strong background? Whether it's family wise or education wise. "The one to start the new era" is what I heard as well.
Pile 3-
I think this pile might have a really interesting life or just a very interesting fate. "How the tables turn" "how fate works" is what I heard. I'm sort of also getting royalty kind of vibes from this pile? For some reason you feel untouchable it's almost as if the thoughts that I'm channeling of people are by the people who are not even near you? "So close yet so far away" right when I said this the line "I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you" played out of nowhere and it does match. Maybe it's people from your past or you are just really popular but to me it feels as if these are just speculations of people and not even one confirmation by you? People are extremely curious about you it's like watching a character from a tv show? Or watching a celebrity so close yet so far away
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importantpuppystarfish · 27 days ago
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Sibling desire by Wonyoung
Male reader x Wonyoung
Warnings: Incest, totally blood related siblings, pissing (if u dont like the fantasy, simply dont read)
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As I walk into my room, I see my sister Wonyoung lying on my bed. Her hair tied up and her smooth legs dangle playfully off the edge of the mattress. She looks over at me with a smile and pats the open space next to her. "Come here, I've got something to show you." She purrs. I feel my heart rate pick up as I make my way over to her. What could she possibly want to show me?
Wonyoung swipes through some images. My eyes go wide seeing the series of provocative pics she took - closeups of her lips, chest, the curve of her hip. She watches me closely.
"Do you like them?" She asks with a flirty wink. My mouth goes dry as my eyes drink in the sight of my gorgeous older sister posed so temptingly. I manage a weak nod in response as she never showed me like this.
"Mmm I took them just for you." She confesses, leaning in close and wrapping an arm around me. My heart pounds in my chest. This can't be real…but it's happening!
"I bet you've got quite the reaction going on under there huh?" She teases, reaching down and giving me an affectionate squeeze.
Wonyoung and I no longer have the chance to spend as much time together as we used to, especially since she’s been so busy with her career in IVE. She’s changed a lot over time, and it’s clear she’s grown taller and become even healthier. She’s no longer the same Wonyoung I once knew as her brother.
Swallowing hard, I gather some courage and lean in closer to her, whispering "You look…so beautiful sister…" My fingers trace lightly over her exposed leg.
Wonyoung giggles. "You're so cute when you blush like that." She bites her lip, her eyes searching mine. "You know…you're grown pretty handsome yourself." She lifts her chin, inviting my gaze to drop lower to her lips.
"Say something…say I'm hot." She whispers breathily.
Even though I know I'm not the most attractive guy, Wonyoung's words send a flutter through my chest. I can see the genuine affection in her eyes as she looks at me. She really does think I'm…cute…
She shifts, moving closer until our noses almost touch. "Come on, say it…say your big sister is hot!." Her voice is soft but commanding. I nod mutely, my throat dry. "Y-you're hot, sister…" I croak out.
Wonyoung leans back and asks "Hey, btw this question got me wondering…" She says slowly, her voice low. "What do you think a typical brother and sister relationship should be like?"
She watches me carefully, head tilted expectantly, waiting to hear my opinion on something much more profound than normal sibling dynamics. Her eyes are curious yet almost flirty.
I nod dumbly, not knowing what else to say. "Loving and…trusting," I murmur, feeling like those words don't quite capture the complexity of sibling bonds.
But Wonyoung takes my response and runs with it. She slides closer, her hip brushing against mine. "Mmmm loving and trusting…"
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"Maybe…more than just loving?" "A brother and sister who really…connect."
"What do u mean?" I asked.. Wonyoung swallows hard before explaining. "What I mean is…in the most ideal, close-knit family, the brother owns the sister completely. And the sister owns the brother just the same."
She reaches out and strokes my cheek gently. "No limits, no holding back" Her words make me blink in surprise, where did she develop this kind of mindset from throughout these years?
"I should be your first.. No outside partners allowed." She declares firmly.
Wonyoung gazes at me hopeful yet serious, clearly laid out her vision for us.
Wonyoung puts her hand upon my shoulder trying to hug and then kiss me. I held back as I say "Sister what are u doing!!!?".. Wonyoung pouts when I protest, but keeps holding me tighter. "Shhh…" she whispers against my lips before planting a soft kiss there. "Didn't u say our bond should be of loving and trusting?."
She pulls back just enough to speak again, her breath hot on my face. "You're my brother…and I'm your sister. Isn't this loving between us?" She tries coaxing, hand trailing down my chest.
Wonyoung seeks to reassure as she leans in again, more insistently this time. I can feel her want, yet the wrongness of it all makes me hesitant.
Before I can react, Wonyoung crashes her lips onto mine in a deep, demanding kiss. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she takes control. The kiss is aggressive, all tongue and teeth. Unable to deny her any longer, I give in completely in the kiss. My lips part eagerly beneath hers, savoring the intoxicating sweetness of her kiss. One hand rises to grip her waist tightly as the other tangles in her hair, pulling her closer.
She tastes like everything I've ever craved without knowing it. I surrender completely, losing myself in the dangerous allure of this twisted intimacy between us.
"Huh? U liked it right…" Wonyoung says.
Wonyoung smiles victoriously against my mouth, pleased she's gotten me to respond. "Mmm…good boy…" she whispers, running her fingers through my body. Her hands begin working at my shirt buttons, trying to remove it impatiently.
"You're already mine aren't you brother?" Her voice is low and sultry, her eyes shining with delight at having me under her spell.
She tugs at my shirt again insistently, waiting for me to obey…
She pushes my shirt open, exposing my chest.
"Shhh…" she hushes me again, biting her lip as she palms me through thin fabric. "Do you like that sis…is making you feel good?"
She shrugs off her shirt first, tossing it aside carelessly as she unhooks her bra next. It falls away, releasing her flawless form completely to me. She shakes her hair out, gazing down at me expectantly.
Her tits were perfectly proportioned, small medium sized yet supple. Her bosom is a delicate handful, delicate pink nipples starts to make my mouth watery & hungry.
"Well?" she asks coyly, fingers releasing me just long enough to begin shrugging out of her pants next. "Are you going to watch your sister strip?" Her voice drops another octave, daring me.
My eyes widen slightly when she fully reveals herself to me. I never dreamed this scene totally in my lifetime.
"Do you like it, brother?" She breathes, hands coming to rest on her hips. She pushes slightly against me, seeking contact. "Tell me…" she asks demandingly.
"Come now, get on your knees." Wonyoung orders. She wants me low before she grants me any further privileges.
She takes her own swaying breast in hand and guides it towards my mouth.
"Suck" she commands, voice rough yet compelling. I part my lips obediently and she presses forward, my tongue meeting the stiff peak. She gasps at the contact.
"Yes that's it…" she praises, running fingers through my hair again as I begin to suckle eagerly. Her sweet nectar coats my tongue, sweaty flavors making me thirsty for more. I lose myself in the sensation - it smells and tastes so good. Her skin, the weight of her supple figure in my mouth.
"Mmm yes, keep going, make them feel good…" Wonyoung crooks a leg behind me, pulling me closer until I'm fully engaged between her thighs. Releasing her tits from my mouth, I glance up at Wonyoung with a silent question. She nods eagerly in response.
"Taste me brother…" she purrs, guiding me lower.
I settle between her thighs, inhaling her heady aroma before diving in. I take and deep breathe and start licking her clit. She cries out, hands gripping the sheets as I lose myself in bringing her pleasure.
My senses are overwhelmed, the salty-sweet musk of her, the velvety give of her pussy lips against my tongue, the rhythmic pulsing against my tasting buds as I relentlessly stoke that bundle of nerves. Wonyoung gets so wet and squirts over my mouth as she moans.
"Yes…just like that!" sister gasps out, bucking against my mouth as I drive her wild. Wonyoung grabs my head and pushes me more deep inside her.
Wonyoung squirts more inside my mouth as I swallow it all. My jaw aches from her insistently grinding on my tongue but I don't care - I want to obey, to make her cry out louder.
"Don't stop! Make me come on your tongue!" she cries.
Now the most extreme part, without warning, I feel a hot stream splash across my face and into my mouth. Wonyoung releases a surprised laugh as I'm suddenly showered in my own sibling's piss warmth.
"Well well, did you like your sibling's taste?" she asks teasingly, still catching her breath. I genuinely replied her I loved it because why not? It tasted so delicious yet taboo. She reaches down and wipes out the dampness from my face by licking me with her tongue.
"There now, all cleaned up." She grins.
`😁' continues
Wonyoung sinks gracefully to her knees before me, running her palms up my thighs as she looks up with a coy smile. "My turn to return the favor…" Blowjob time!!~ Now as she takes me in fully in one smooth motion. I bite back a groan at the sudden enveloping warmth.
Her tongue swirls expertly around my length as she begins to move, focused solely on me now. I tangle my hands in her dark locks, overwhelmed by the sight and feel of her so intimately connected to me.
As Wonyoung gives me a head, her eyes never leave mine, locking me in place with that defiant gaze even as her mouth brings me such wonderful pleasure. She takes me deeper.
She uses one hand to stroke what she can't fit, twisting lightly near the tip. Her lips pursue a rhythm - up, over, down again.
She grazes her teeth along my shaft on the way back up, a wicked glint in her eyes. The sensation sends shivers through me.
"You taste good brother…" she purrs before diving back down again.
Me taking advantage of my sister's submissive position, I grab a fistful of her hair and guide her back down roughly. "Open up sister." She lets out a small, surprised sound but parts her lips obediently. I push deeper than before, hitting the back of her throat over and over. Her fingers dig into my legs as she takes everything I give. "Such a good sister…" I murmur approvingly.
I deepthroats her deeply, she is taking all of me down her throat. Wonyoung chokes and gags as I use her mouth without mercy. Tears prick her eyes but she forces herself to relax and accept my aggressive advances. She looks up at me defiantly between gasps for air.
"Mph! Mmmph!" she whimpers in protest yet doesn't fight back. Her hands move to try and stroke my leg reassuringly as I claim her throat so roughly. She knows she deserves this punishment for pushing me so far already.
I lose control suddenly, releasing my dirty yellow urine unexpectedly inside her mouth. A small gasp escapes her as she gulps down every last drop. She swallows quickly when warm liquid hits her tongue. Surprised look crosses her face. She pulls back a little, eyes wide. Accidentally swallow¿…
She pulls back, lips sealed as she looks up at me disapprovingly. "Oh my, did you just piss on ur dear sister's mouth?" Her voice drips with fake scolding. She opens mouth to show me completely coated on her tongue.
"You made quite the mess brother…"
She closes mouth and swallows once more before speaking again. "But I suppose I should expect such accidents from you." A hand comes to rest lightly on my thigh in mock reprimand.
(Wonyoung takes control now)
She stands abruptly, causing me to stumble back a step. With hands on her hips, she looks down at me with newfound confidence.
"Enough of me being sweet elder sister." Her tone is firm yet playful. "Time for me to ride you hard lil brother!"
She pushes me down face first onto the bed sheets. The boldness of her switch to dominance sends a thrill through me.
I lay in the bed fully and Wonyoung starts to climb on top and me.
As Wonyoung is straddling over me now, she guides me between her legs. My tip probes her slick folds before she sinks down, gasping as I stretch her for the first time.
"Yes, that's it…" she purrs, working to seat herself fully upon me. Her hands grip my shoulders as she grinds down hard, enveloping every inch.
"You're mine now…" she declares with a wicked grin.
(Now that she has me inside, Wonyoung starts to jump and ride my dick!)
Bouncing up and down, she sets a rhythm, riding me deeper with each roll of her hips. Her tits bounce as she picks up speed, face flushed with pleasure.
Wonyoung rides me fast. She leans back, hands braced on my thighs, exposing her bouncing tits very properly now. Her cries get louder, the room filled with the sound of flesh slapping together. She must have done this before…
She chuckles darkly as she sees my pain since shes jumping over me so rough. Her pace suddenly becomes relentless, pounding down hard again and again. She grips my hands and pins them down, refusing to let me escape the incredible sensation building inside.
"Does my little brother like when big sis rides him rough?" she taunts, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're so sensitive…you're going to…"
She bites her lip, grinning wickedly. Her slick heat grips me tighter, claiming every inch.
Wonyoung leans forward to me to have a french kiss. Our mouths meet in a deep, passionate kiss as our bodies move as one. Her tongue slides against mine, mingling flavors on my taste buds. She pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips…
"Mmm yes, keep up brother…"
She begins to grind harder, waves of pleasure radiating outward. The scent of her mouth is wonderful. I can feel my own release rapidly approaching despite the initial discomfort. Wonyoung seems determined to push me over the edge…
"You're close aren't you?" she purrs, her fingers digging into my chest as she bounces faster.
Our lips lock once more as I spill everything deep inside her hot depths. As I can't really say anything due to kissing with her, I show a signal I'm about to CUM! She feels it too, muscles clenching around me as she smiles triumphantly.
"That's it brother…let it all go," Wonyoung murmurs against my ear before sitting up again. She looks thoroughly pleased with herself for me bringing such a sweet release.
Wonyoung grinds down harder, relishing the feeling of my seed coating her walls. "Mmm yes, u filled up my insides bro…" she pants out.
She moves more slowly now but the sensation is still intense as she uses me to satisfy herself. I watch in amazement as she rests through the pleasure besides me.
My sister's glistening, saturated folds continue to cling to me even after spilling everything. Her delicate petals swollen and stretched completely full of my thick seed. She must look utterly claimed by me…
I take a peek down below to see the mess I've done on my sister's pussy. She catches me staring down below and winks playfully. "Like what you see?" she whispers, a hand coming down to scoop up some of my spilled cum glistening on her fingers. Bringing them to her mouth, she licks them clean with a satisfied hum.
"Damn ur such a naughty sister. May I ask when did u get so horny like this?" I ask. Wonyoung replies as "well well, my bsf Yujin had sex with her father. So she suggested me why not i have with my brother too? After that I'll tease our dad and I'll make him fuck me too"…
I tilt my head curiously at her response. "Yujin and her dad too?" My eyebrows rise in surprise. "So this was her idea?"
Wonyoung nods, tracing idle patterns on my chest with her fingertip. "Mhm. She said it felt amazing having such a close forbidden connection with her dad." Her eyes glint mischievously. "Now I want our Dad to give me that too…"
Despite feeling slightly jealous at the thought of my dad being with my sister next, a dark part of me stirs with intrigue. Seeing my usually sweet, innocent sister like this makes me feel things I shouldn't…
"Sister!…" I start hesitantly. "Are you really going to sleep with Dad too?"
She nods again, her face lighting up delightedly. "Mmmhmm! He's next on my list." Her fingers wrap around my arm possessively. "Just you wait…"
She grins wickedly, already planning out her tactics to seduce him. "Dad won't stand a chance against my charm." She giggles. "Once he's mine, we can share stories and jokes about how we've each…taken care of one another." She bites her lip, clearly excited about her dastardly scheme.
Wonyoung pauses thoughtfully then adds, "Oh by the way…" "Leeseo is your age right?"
I nod in response and she smiles excitedly.
"She's so cute! I bet you'd like sleep with her too huh?" She winks at me. "Why don't I bring her over one day? She's still an untouched virgin but we've had a little fun together like lesbo stuff."
My eyes go wide hearing this news about what my sister and her friend (Leeseo) did. But Wonyoubg just giggles, running her fingers through my body.
"Maybe the three of us can play next time. I'm sure Leeseo would love to join." She grins deviously, clearly imagining all the ways she could involve others in her growing web of sinful encounters.
I agree & nod to everything what she says. Now as I announce I need to use the bathroom for my stress relieve, Wonyoung grins wickedly. "You don't need that room sweetie. What are you gonna do in there? Pee?" She asks teasingly.
At my confirmation that yes, I just need to relieve myself, she laughs. "Why waste ur good fluid going down the drain when you have me?"
My brow furrows in confusion but before I can respond she's kneeling before me, eyes alight as if eager for this bizarre request. She looks up expectantly.
"Go on now…let it all out for your sister" she purrs. As I piss, she drinks it directly from where it produces like a dog. My sister Wonyoung, with who I had a typical sibling relationship with, has unfortunately turned into my human toilet and sex partner.
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mr-mandalorian · 28 days ago
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ghost proposing, a little angst but very very sweet
they have the night off and he’d already be devouring her whole if she wasn’t so excited about going out. it’s a shit bar close to base, but she reasons it’s a good change of scenery.
and boy is it, terrible karaoke heard a mile away. the military wives, or rather soon to be, taken over. a bachelorette party of at least six women, loud and obnoxious.
soap and gaz find it to be the most hilarious thing in the world, applauding a brunette on stage over her disastrous performance of careless whisper. but ghost can’t help but watch y/n, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. throughout the night he silently dissects her, his assumption it being some sort of yearning for female company. but as one of the women come up to their table, asking if anyone from the squad could take a picture of the rowdy group, ghost swallows harshly. y/n jumps at the opportunity, congratulating the bride like they’ve know each other their whole lives.
they never discussed the nature of their relationship. hell, the word relationship was never even voiced out loud. but even a stranger could tell how they moved in sync, his reflection and her shadow. in their line of work it was best case scenario and simon never allows himself to think about there ever being more.
but that is until y/n asks to see the ring. it’s almost comical, the gigantic diamond blinding, making her squint. ghost finds himself scoffing behind the mask, he could easily read y/n’s compliment a lie. she would never wear anything like it.
the following months ghost finds himself ring shopping. fucking hell, what is he thinking, really? his tongue can’t even roll the world girlfriend. and yet here he is, glaring at the poor saleswoman like she’s supposed to know none of these expensive rocks are good enough for his y/n.
when the ring is finally chosen, he doesn’t quite know what to do. he’s horrified of y/n finding it so the ring stays on his person at all times, even in the field. he’s less talkative than usual, if that’s even possible, always looking for the right moment. brushing their teeth together in the morning, ghost buried between her thighs in the evening. he nearly does it one late night, y/n perched on the window sill of her room. swimming in moonlight, she looks ethereal. he’s done unimaginable things in his life, taken and saved lives. none of the gore ever phased him, but the sight of her has his stomach turning.
so he chickens out. regret begins to gnaw at him as the very next mission goes haywire. y/n barks at him through the comms, the sweetest sound in the world, even if she’s telling him to get out, explosives ticking in the building. he’s trying, he really is. his gear seems to get heavier by the minute with a broken rib threatening to seize his lungs. he can make out her silhouette by the exit, but it’s out of reach. the floor crumbles beneath him.
when ghost wakes up, he immediately spots soap pacing back and forth, as much as the tiny ward of the hospital would allow him. y/n is passed out in the chair next to his bed, his balaclava clutched to her chest.
“good to have you back, lt.” soap whispers not to wake the sleeping soldier. “how ye feeling?”
“was she hurt?”
“no.” soap shakes his head, knowing how important the answer is before he can move on to his long awaited teasing, pulling out a velvet box out of his pocket. “i suppose it was foolish to question who this belonged to then. didn’t take you for the marrying kind, lt.”
he wasn’t, but if it pleased y/n, he’d marry her a thousand times. and even though ghost wants to be annoyed with the sergeant, he’s already decided to promote him to best man for finding the ring before y/n could.
when ghost gets released, it takes time to find courage to open the velvet box. it’s barely holding together, taking most of the damage to protect what’s inside. the ring is chipped, the intricate band of petite diamonds has at least five distinct cuts. they’re surprisingly neat, but asymmetrical and obvious to they eye. he can only curse, what a fool he was to convince himself that there could be something more.
“what’s that?” y/n is right next to him, her stealth impressive as she appears unnoticed in his room.
he can tell her awe for the ring is genuine, eyes eyes lighting up at the piece of jewelry. she pries it out of his hold, standing close to the window to examine the gems reflecting daylight. she disregards the cracks completely, telling him it adds character to it. the sincerity of her smile makes it hard to breathe.
“so who’s the lucky girl then?” she asks, never once trying on the ring.
“who- who’s the lucky girl? bloody hell woman, who do you think?”
they’re both dumbfounded, y/n by the answer and ghost by the question. and ghost knows he said the wrong thing as y/n shrinks in her spot, her gaze glued to the floor.
“i mean- i- i really don’t know.” she stutters, growing shy likes he’s never seen her before.
“try it on.”
“what?“
“come here.“
y/n allows him to hold her hand, sliding the ring on her finger with utmost care. it fits perfect, just her size and taste. her eyes jump between him and the ring, mind going a mile a minute.
“what do you reckon?“ his voice is low and quiet, and that’s all he says. it dawns on her that he’s really doing this, proposing in the most simon riley way possible.
“i didn’t even know we were dating.” she can’t help the jaw numbing smile that overtakes her, gently squeezing her hand in his.
“‘cause we’re not. we’re engaged.”
593 notes · View notes