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grippingbeskar · 3 years

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The Element of Surprise | Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: The Rebels

mando x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (sexual intercourse mxf, marking/bruises, slight pain kink, pain after sex) swearing, general sexual content, din being hot as fuck

a/n: while I sat at home on a Saturday night and wrote the longest smut chapter I have ever written, it does make me wonder where I went wrong. or right. either way, thank you for staying with me. also please let me know if im missing any warnings, i go back through to edit but im worried im missing something so pls let me know!! :)

p.s: also just a note my spaceship knowledge only comes from me being a star wars nerd and watching the movies and shows, so it’s most likely not accurate but IM MAKING IT UP okay it’s fine

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your first inhale smells of vanilla, and you know it well. Moving your head further into his neck, your body slowly catches up to your brain, each part of you fidgeting slightly as you wake up. You can feel the rise of his chest against you, the deep, slow breathing coming through the modulator in beat with your own. You don’t know if hes asleep or if he just sits that still all the time, but when you move your hips slightly, he groans in response, and you know hes wide awake.

“Hi.” You say into his neck, and you realise you are still straddling him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, his own holding you in position as he adjusts the ships path behind you. Unwrapping your hands, you use his chest to push yourself upright, and he clicks a final button before leaning back into the chair, helmet slowly scoping you up and down.

“Hi.”

“You should have woken me up. I would have done that.” You tilt your head back to the control board. You are in desperate need of practise, the small movement you did last night a baby step in the right direction.

“First day and you’re already sleeping on the job.” Your head shifts back slightly, and your jaw opens in a little bit of shock that hes so sassy this early in the morning. At least you think it’s early, the darkness of the galaxy behind you showing no sun, but still lighter than it was on Ryloth.

“Hey! You told me t-“

“Shh. You needed sleep. We have plenty of time to practise. At least two days before we reach the next planet.” One of his hands come under your chin to shut your jaw before you can bite back, so you roll your eyes instead. You turn to look behind you, getting a good picture of the absolute emptiness of the galaxy. At least there’s no chance of you hitting anything out here.

“Where’s Grogu?” You turn back, relaxing your hips on top of him and his hands drop to them, holding you in place.

“The hull. Still sleeping, its early.” You just nod, trying to think of something to say, but all you can concentrate on is how hard is he underneath you, both of you still unsatisfied from last night.

You are insatiable when your around him, and the only reason you didn’t jump him as soon as you got him alone last night was because you don’t think you had a proper sleep for two days and the intensity of your ‘brush’ with death knocked you out cold. His hands stay on your hips, gripping you tightly, just enough that it wouldn’t leave a mark, but you want him to, so you grind against him, feeling his thumbs dig into the sharp bone. You moan in response, and he gets the message, holding you tighter, slowly dragging you up and down against him in small movements.

“Fuck, Din.” You never get tired of saying his name, and saying it here, when hes making you feel so good like this, you don’t think you ever will.

“Sh-shit. That feel good?” He drags you up and down again, harder this time, the pressure against your tight core so hard its almost painful, but the pleasure is too good to think about it. You nod, and another moan is drawn from you, that familiar feeling bubbling under the surface.

“Yeah, I know baby. You know how much I missed you? Missed this?” Your eyes flutter open and hes only looking at your face. If you weren’t feeling so fucking hot right now you might have been embarrassed, but you’re so comfortable with him you don’t think there’s anything you wouldn’t let him do right now.

“Tell me, please. Din.” He sets a deadly slow pace, loosening his grip just slightly so you can move and put his rock-hard cock right against the small bundle of nerves and you jerk against him, his hands tightening again.

“Couldn’t help myself when you called. Looked so fucking good touching yourself, just for me.” He moans and leans his helmet into your chest, your hands coming up to grip the sides as leverage. You’re panting and you can’t focus on anything, all your energy devoted to feeling him. “Got me hard from miles away, nearly came straight back when you hung up.” You regain enough consciousness to register the words, and your voice cracks as you reply.

“Really?”

“Yes, cyar’ika. I would do anything if you asked me to.” The desperation in his voice, how his breathing stutters when you grind down on him – if you’d known you that you would have locked the doors and kept him here forever. Now that you know what that name means, too; Maker. You cry out as you get closer and closer. You can feel how hard he is, every move he drags you through a slow torture for the both of you.

“Din, I want to feel you.” You moan and drop your forehead to the top of his helmet, the weight of your head suddenly too heavy to hold on your own.

“Not -ngh. Not yet. I want you to make yourself cum like this. Its a-all I could think about, being in this chair. Underneath you.” You let out a shaky breath and try to concentrate on the movement of your hips, but your body is heavy with lust. Luckily Dins strong hands aid you more than enough to lead. The delicious feel of him running along you only makes you hotter. Every time you’re with him is better than the last, a whole new kind of sensation taking over your senses.

“Good girl. Use me, come on.” He encourages, his hands digging deeper into your hips, and you whimper at the thought of the marks they will leave tomorrow. “Is this okay?” Whispering through the modulator, your heart thumps in your chest. Even like this, both of you so incredibly close, he still checks in with you, clearly aware of how hard hes holding you.

“Y-Yes. I want to see it. Harder, Din.” He obliges, grinding you down with his hands. Your eyes squeeze shut and your entire body tenses with pleasure, tingles shooting up your spine and filling your lower stomach. When you whimper again, he laughs under you, short and dark.

“You like that, huh? You like that your gonna see exactly where my hands have been. Exactly where I held you when you came.” You cry out, his name coming out in the midst of a bunch of curse words that didn’t make sense. “You close, baby?”

You were a whimpering mess, the only reason you hadn’t come yet was the torturous pace he set was slow and hard, stoking the fire inside of you just enough to edge you, and he knew it.

“Come for me, then.” His low, deep voice fills your ear and his hands move your hips faster. It only takes a few beats of that incredible pace for you to explode, throwing your head back, Dins quick arm behind your back the only thing that kept you on the chair.

His other hand kept its hold on you, pushing you through your everlasting orgasm. Your abs tense furiously and your whole body is shuddering – you’ve never felt this fucking good in your entire life. Every part of your body is alive and electric, and when you finally come down you are gasping for air in the small space between you both. His other hand comes up to lift your head on his helmet.

“I want to kiss you so bad right now.” You say as your lungs stop burning and oxygen returns to your brain. You blink your eyes at his visor, and your eyelashes brush against the inky black. He ‘hmm’s in response, so you bring your hips down on top of him again with a little bit of force, both of you jerking into the action, him still hard as fuck under you. Instantly you know what you want, shimming out of his grip to get on your knees in front of him.

“Baby, I-“

“Let me. I want to.” A low groan comes from the modulator, and he physically rips his arm off the chair, seemingly fighting himself to lean forward and cup your face.

“Believe me, I want that so badly. I-I dream about it.” Your eyebrows come together in confusion. “But if I’m not inside of you right now, I don’t think we will ever leave this ship.” He gently pulls you by your face back onto his lap, the contrast of his touch from just minutes ago sending a new wave of shivers down your spine.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He laughs lightly underneath you, and you don’t waste a second, hands working to remove the belt holding up his pants. The buckle loosens and you throw it somewhere behind the chair, next trying to figure out the armour. There’s so much beskar you can’t find any part that looks like a zipper. Or buttons. Maker, why the fuck is this so complicated?

You look up at him, but he just leans back, both his hands coming up behind his head, content to watch you struggle. Seriously? He looks so cocky, his head slanted slightly looking down on you, and if you weren’t so desperate right now you would register how sexy it looks.

Its his turn to struggle, you think, so you stop trying to figure out the pants, instead running your fingers down his chest, starting in the centre, tracing the lines of his complicated set up until you reached his cock. You could feel it throbbing through his pants, and your palm applies just a little bit of pressure. The choked gasp that comes from him feeds your ego, and you push harder against him, flicking your hair to the other side of your head and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Something wrong?” You ask innocently, and you can hear how much hes struggling to breath under your hand’s movement. You apply more pressure, wondering if he has the same register for pain and pleasure as you do. You remember that moment on the ship just before he left, and you follow your curiosity.

His breath is short and uneven, the modulator amplifying every tiny sound he makes. It gets you so wet that you almost let your spare hand drift down to your underwear, but you want to focus on him. You wish you could feel him in your mouth, you would make him feel so good, but this is the next best thing, and you’re going to make him feel as hot as he makes you. You can feel the outline of him against your palm, so you wrap your hand around him, tight. Another choked gasp comes out of him, but he hasn’t said anything, so you keep your grip where it is and move it up and down his length. The evidence of your own orgasm lines his pants, making it easier for you to slide your hand along him, and when you reach the tip of him, his hand flies down to catch your wrist.

“Fuck. F-fuck – I’m going to cum if you-“ he forces himself to take a breath “if you don’t stop. I need to fuck you, please.” He takes the initiative, ripping the seam of his pants and shoving them down his thighs, and you smile up at him, happy with your work. You run your hands along his tanned legs, and you want to take your time to worship every part of him. When you finally see his cock come into view, your mouth actually waters. The tip is red and already beading with pre cum, and you bite your lip, looking back up at Din.

“C’mere.” He mumbles, still breathless. You shuffle up to him and realise you still have your underpants on. You reach down to move them out of the way, but Dins gloved hands beat you to it, tearing them in half and discarding the pieces over his shoulder.

“Din!” As hot as that was, you only have a limited amount of clothes. “I only have like five pairs with me.” You laugh against his helmet, clearly not that upset.

“Don’t wear ‘em. You don’t need them.” His voice is still that deep pitch, seductive and rough. The lights in the cockpit paired with the lights from the stars outside illuminate you both enough that he can’t take his helmet off without you seeing his face, and as much as you want his mouth on yours, once he finally fucks you, you don’t know if you would be able to control your eyes enough. He knows this, you think, which is why he just pulls you closer, discarding his gloves so he can touch you.

He slides into you with ease, and there’s still a tinge of pain as your body adjusts to him again. He sighs, and it matches yours as you both melt into each other, your entire body relaxing around him. One hand gets lost in your hair, the other wrapping around you, pulling you into him and holding you in place.

“How does it feel?” He asks against your cheek, and you tighten around him, causing him to almost growl, a feral sound ripping through his body. You can feel it vibrate through his chest.

“So good, Din. Sososo good.” Mumbling a string of words, he takes the hint and moves, pulling out of you halfway and gently thrusting back into you.

Its not enough, and you push up on shaky legs, letting yourself drop down, sliding from tip to base, your ass smacking against his thighs.

“You want it harder, princess?” He calls you so many names, each one having a different effect on you. You nod unable to form a word as he slams his hips up into you, hitting a spot you have never felt before. “You just had to ask. Ill fuck you nice and hard. Give you what you want.”

He always would. He slams into you again, and again, hitting that spot each time and your eyes roll back into your head. He sets a fast pace, the explicit sounds of your ass smacking against him only adding to the sensation. He says your name once, then again, and grabs your face, not stopping his brutal thrusts as he forces you to look at him through the visor.

“Tell me who’s the only one that can fuck you like this.” He grunts, each time he slams into you your heads knock together slightly.

“You! Din- fuck! No one but you.” You have no idea how you manage the words, Dins hand wrapped in your hair pulling slightly, just enough to feel the pressure of it. Your hands scramble over his chest and back, desperate to find something to hold onto, but Din lets go of you for a second and releases whatever was holding his armour on his chest and back, exposing the skin you missed so much. Instantly your nails dig into him, and his arm returns to your back, keeping you upright while he fucks you, hard.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, cyar’ika.” You were drunk on this feeling, the feeling of him inside you, how hard he was slamming into you, the moment you felt him finish inside you, you knew you would follow.

“Please, pleaseimsocloseDin..” Hes moaning in your ear, and your surprised you can hear him over your own, practically holding back sobs as he stretches you so good every thrust, your entire body sparking with electricity.

His thrusts stutter only twice and you feel him fill you, his hips jutting as he tries to keep his pace for you, but he doesn’t have to try long as the sensation of him finishing inside of you is your own undoing, and you both grasp onto each other, shaking with each other’s pleasure.

You scream out his name and he groans out yours, the pace of his thrusts slowing as you both ride out your highs. Eventually his hips stop, but he doesn’t pull out of you. You don’t want him to, and you slump against his body, taking the same position from this morning as you slept, your head nuzzling into his neck.

“Close your...” Hes so out of breath he doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know what he means, the hiss of the helmet being detached sends your body into a whole new kind of alert. It drops to the floor and instantly his soft hands are pulling your lips to his.

The kiss is slow; beautiful. His lips move against yours at a bruising force, but he moves at no hurried pace. It’s perfect, and exactly what you needed to bring you back to earth. You both pull away, only because the burn of your lungs reminds you that you actually need to breath, and its suddenly an inconvenience, given the choice you would gladly choose his lips over your need for oxygen.

“Your fucking perfect. You know that?” Hes still close to you, his hair tickles your damp forehead.

“Cyar’ika.” You say to him, and it feels right coming out of your mouth. You can feel his smile, your lips brushing against his teeth as he does so. You wish you knew more words in Mando’a so you could make him smile like that forever.

“Sounds pretty when you say it” he says against your mouth, greedily kissing your mouth, biting your lower lip before pulling away. “You feeling okay?” His hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, and you feel his head drop to examine the marks he left on your hip, fingers brushing over the sensitive spot, and you suck in a breath.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He kisses your nose and then your lips and you shake your head.

“Its fine, just fresh. I like it. I’m good, promise.”

“Good.” He starts kissing your neck, and you sigh into his touch, his hands underneath your shirt freely exploring the still covered skin.

“You know what you said about ‘never leaving this ship’?” he mumbles a reply against your skin, and you laugh. “Well, I will never let you leave again if you keep going like that.” He laughs and leaves one long kiss on your jaw before leaving your skin. You keep your eyes closed as he lays back, and its then that he slips out of you, slowly. Din adjusts his pants so that they come up over his cock, discarding the rest of his upper body armour to the side and pulling you against his bare chest, your head tucking under his chin. “I’m serious. I’m not letting you leave again.”

“You’re the captain. I guess I have to listen to you.” The honey laced voice fills the room and its the first time since hes taken his helmet off that you appreciate it, wanting to always take the time to remember what he sounds like.

“Yup. I’m going to tie you up and keep you in this chair.” That sounded a lot dirtier than you meant, but he just laughs.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” He says into the top of your head, planting a sweet kiss there. Your eyebrows shoot up, but you can’t move your head for the risk of seeing his face. “I can hear you thinking. Get your mind out of the gutter.” You huff and he laughs again, moving you with him as he does.

“You started it.” Another mumble to the top of your head is all you get, and as the ship buzzes around you, you think you would have fallen asleep had you not slept for so long the day before. “Two days till the next planet, right?” He nods against you. “Where are we going?”

“Corellia. Need some parts for the ship. Next targets there too.” You nod against him now, and its nice to know you have a bit of time with him before he leaves again. “You can look it up in the book, but its – safer. You can come with me, and the kid. If you want.”

“Of course I do.”

“Might be a couple days.”

“I don’t care. I want to.” You wrap your arms around his back, trying to get closer to him. Now that he wasn’t inside you, nothing seemed close enough.

“Okay. Then you’ll come.” He kisses your head again. “Get some more flying lessons in before we land, too.” Your heart warms, him just as enthusiastic to teach you as you are to learn. “You can’t try to sleep with your instructor every time, though.”

You slap his chest and laugh, him trapping your hand and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it.

“Why not? Worked well for me this time.”

“Mhmm. It did. Just have to test it again, then.”

“Now who has their mind in the gutter?” you tease, and he squeezes you in his arms. This is what happiness feels like, you think. Being squished in Dins arms, planning your next few days together, the kid giggling behind you outside the door.

Wait.

“Grogu!” you shout at the same time Din does.

“Kid!” He goes to spin the chair, but you frantically whack him.

“Din! Pants!” he says nothing for a second, then you think he realises.

“Im wearing pants.” His tone is flat, clearly confused. Maker...

“No. Me. No pants. Underwear in half on floor. Stick with me, please.” A quiet ‘ohhh’ comes from him, and he kisses your forehead before flipping you so you are on the chair. You can hear his footsteps leaving the cockpit as the door shutters open, picking up the kid in one arm, his helmet and armour in the other.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready.” You respond with a quick ‘yep!’ wanting Grogu away from the door as soon as possible, the embarrassment eating you up inside. You know all parts of this place are soundproof, and the door won’t open for anyone but Din, but you don’t want to scare the poor little guy. As Din leaves, you hear him mumble the words ‘lesson’ and ‘poor timing’ to Grogu, and a little of your embarrassment is subsided with the knowledge he wouldn’t have been able to see anything, Dins calmness confirming it.

You go to stand and immediately fall on your ass, your legs giving out underneath you. A slight pain shoots up your inner thigh, and you hear Dins voice call out your name.

“Im good! It’s fine.” Damn, he really did a number on you. As much as the pain is ever present as you push yourself off the floor and hobble down the hallway to your room on the right, you can’t wipe the grin off your face. It’s a good pain, and you hope it never goes away, a physical reminder of what you did just minutes ago. As you slide into a new pair of shorts, your fingers brush over the small, finger shaped bruises that frame your hip bones, flinching under your own touch. A purple hue sits under your skin at the points of contact, and you shift your shorts, so they don’t touch, not wanting to ruin the shape of them. Running your fingers through your hair you exit the room, taking a moment to look back, your heart swelling at the memory of the first time you saw it.

You pass the cockpit, going to head down the ladder when the door opens automatically. You stop, turn to face it and stare. How did it open? You take a few steps back, watching the doors come together, the light from the cockpit fading and letting the hallway fall into darkness again. You take two steps forward and they swing open again. Huh. He mustn’t have changed the doors back, usually they only opened when he was here. You knew he changed the security system when he left, but you assumed he would have switched it back. You hear the familiar clunk of his footsteps up the ladder, and you stay standing in front of the open doors.

“They open for me now.” Stepping out of the way again for a demonstration, you jump back in front, watching them slide open without hesitation.

“Yeah. Kept it like that, its easier.” He steps past you, and gentle hand coming on the small of your back to move in, strapping the kid in his seat.

“Huh.” He obviously doesn’t think that’s a big deal, and maybe it isn’t compared to what you were doing this morning, but your stomach fills with butterflies.

You know how paranoid he is and living for so long on his own you wouldn’t think he would factor in anyone to his life, let alone his ships security systems. You had no idea what you were both doing, every time you were together your crush on him only grew. You didn’t just fuck, what you shared was special and intimate, it had a substance of something behind it, you just weren’t sure how mutual the feeling was, but this was his version of telling you. Him cleaning out that room for you was the first, and now you can come and go as you please, knowing to add automatic features to one door would add them to everything.

“You...okay?” He looks over at you from the kid’s chair, and you realise your still standing in the doorway. You nod and go to take a step, using the doorway to support your still sore legs. Faster than you can process, Din is at your side, one hand on your ribcage. “What’s – Did I do something?”

“What? Oh! Well technically, yes.” You smile at him and he huffs out a breath. “Nothing bad though. Just a bit sore.” He doesn’t leave your side until you flop down in the chair, realising hes led you to the pilots chair, and he is not underneath you. “Wait, you’re not going to help?” He leans on the chair next to you, the kid happily gurgling behind.

“I’m right here, but you don’t need my help.” The confidence in his words almost makes you believe him. “Besides, you find something to hit out here, and I’ll give you ten credits.” You roll your eyes and look out to the open space; you can’t even see a hint of a planet. You know hes right. Taking a deep inhale, you can skip the first few steps of your last lesson, already committing them to memory.

“Okay.”

“This here is the navigation lock. Set any co-ordinates using these knobs here-“ He points out the screen and three knobs lining the side of it “-and she’ll take you there. Then its just a matter of controlling speed and altitude. It’ll keep you on course, but you can always manual override.”

“How do I do that again?”

“Just start steering, it breaks the auto system.” Leaning forward, he reads you out some co-ordinates, and you check against the altitude to make sure everything matches. “Now check these. Fuel gage- “he taps the green circle above your head “- and oxygen level.” Both arrows were pointing in the green sections, so you assume that means they were good. He goes through a few of the other buttons above your head, one to a small microphone allowing you to contact other ships, another that neutralises oxygen in the cockpit. “Any questions?” You shake your head and swallow. You don’t have any questions, that was true, but mainly because you think you forgot everything he said the minute he stood up and came behind you to show the buttons on the roof. His helmet loomed over your shoulder, you could see the reflection of him in the glass in front of you, broad shoulders nearly doubling your size. “Good.”

You move, adjusting the touchpad, dragging your finger over the side and the speed picks up. Its less scary this time, and you know you’re in open space, so you let yourself apply a little more pressure. You check the gages, buttons and screens around you, asking Din when you see one you don’t know. You check the altitude again, the nav systems all blinking green, and you feel a slight pull to the right, your hand going to reach for the manual direction when a gloved one stops you.

“It’s fine. Look.” You stare down and see the flight pattern on the tiny screen, seeing your slight right on course.

“There’s a lot less actual flying than I thought.” Sitting back in the chair, suddenly out of things to do. Din doesn’t move from behind you.

“She pretty much flies herself. Smooth, right?” You nod. It really was; the buzzing of the engine no longer vibrating through your feet as you glide through the atmosphere.

“How long have you been flying?”

“Since I was a kid. When I was picked up as a foundling, they taught me to fly as part of training. I’ve only had the Crest a couple of years, though.” Hes only opened up about his past a handful of times, and you soak in every word. Training that young, sounded kind of sad, but you guess it wasn’t really that different from you, your earliest memories training your sensitivity to the Force with your father. It also wasn’t that different from how you were training the kid now, even though you weren’t exactly sure how old he was.

“How fast does it go?” You ask, him laughing in the dim light. He takes a breath to say something, but suddenly a ship appears out of thin air, and you have to move fast to slow down, the engine groaning under the sudden break.

“What the fuck was that?” Your ship comes to a complete stop and hovers in front of the fighter jet. Rebel colours stripe the outside of it, the orange and yellow a beacon against the dark space.

“Just fighter jets coming out of hyperspace. They’ll pass, unless they’re on patr-“ Hes cut off by the blinking light coming on next to the microphone. You both look at each other, then back at the light. “I’ll do the talking.” You nod, sinking back and letting him reach over to click the speaker. “This is Razor Crest. Is there a problem, officers?” Static breaks the silence and an unfamiliar voice comes through.

“We noticed your transponders’ not omitting.” They sound young, but not angry. Hopefully that’s a good sign.

“Yes, I’m pre-empire surplus. I’m not required to run one.” You have no idea what this means but he seems to know what hes talking about.

“That was before. All aircrafts are required to run one now.” Your head looks up and your clearly worried, but his hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing small lines along your collarbone.

“Thank you for letting us know.”

“No problem.” The transmission cuts out and you sigh. That was way easier than you thought. You sit up, ready to move the ship again but they haven’t moved.

“Just one more thing.” Comes through the microphone, and Din lets out an annoyed sigh. “We need you to send us a ping.” You both look over at Grogu, who sits behind you, distracted by a ball.

“Uh, I’m not sure I have those systems online.” You turn to face him, watching his body language and trying to figure out what he wants to do.

“We can wait.” The voice says. These guys aren’t half as scary as the Empire, but you could still get in some trouble, not knowing what kind of debts Din has to pay, and your slate isn’t exactly clean with the Rebels either. That’s not even thinking of the kind of trouble Grogu would cause. Din stands there in silence, shrugging at you. He hasn’t moved, clearly not interested in giving them what they want, and he lies.

“Yeah, doesn’t seem to be working.” If you weren’t so stressed you would have laughed, a small smirk coming across your face, and Dins hand comes up to touch the side of your mouth, holding your eye contact.

“Then you’ll have to come with us to the nearest docking station to do a full sweep of the ship.” You still don’t detect any aggression in their voices, but they are definitely suspicious of you. And a full sweep of the ship? You don’t even want to know what kind of things Din has hidden in here, and the idea of anyone else invading this small space the three of you share makes your skin crawl.

You start looking at the controls, searching for an option, a manoeuvre you haven’t seen, a way out. Din leans down to your level, his whisper so low the rebels wont be able to hear it, but you do, and it sends those familiar sparks down your back.

“You want to see how fast she goes?” A wicked smile spreads across your face, and he slides into the chair next to you, strapping himself in. Silently, he points out the switch you have to flick, and you nod, one hand on the chair preparing to be shot back.

“You need to come with us. Pulling up to engage exterior lock.” The fighter swerve’s to come up next to you, but as soon as you see the opportunity of open space you don’t waste a second, flicking the switch sending all three of you whirring into hyperspace, the Rebels never even having a chance.

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

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miekasa · 4 years

Text

daylight’s wasting (you better kiss me)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x reader

↯ genre and warnings: college au, fluff, someone please be gentle with this boy i’m begging you, jean and eren pretending they don’t give a fuck about each other whilst actually being best bros for the win

↯ word count: 2k

↯ summary: based off of that reddit post about some guy talking about his girlfriend washing his hair for the first time + hoping it fills a request for someone asking for reader playing with eren’s hair for the first time :’)

↯ notes: this is cross-posted and edited slightly from another blog in a completely separate fandom, so if you’ve seen it before, no you didn’t </2

Jean can’t say that he immediately noticed a pep in Eren’s step when the green-eyed boy met him in the library, but what he does notice is the stupid, dopey looking grin and starry-eyed gaze in his eyes that he’s sporting while he’s not doing his part for their project. And while Jean considers himself relatively attractive, he knows for sure Eren isn’t shy about making it known that he doesn’t; so the brunette doubts the literal heart eyes Eren has are for him.

“Eren? Eren, bro, are you good?” Jean calls, a dark eyebrow raised above his left eye. Eren barely registers the calls of his name, and it takes Jean waving his hands in front of the shorter’s face for him to wake from his trance, looking up at Jean with that same, longing smile (that’s, admittedly, starting to creep him the fuck out).

“Yeah,” Eren sighs, something reminiscent of a lovelorn cartoon prince, as he rests his elbow atop his notebook and his chin the palm of his hand, “I’m good.”

Jean looks at him, skeptical and confused. He shifts in his seat, but Eren’s eyes don’t follow—he just stares ahead, lost in thought and completely unaware of everything around him. He looks like a lovesick little bitch if you ask Jean. Or completely sloshed.

Slowly, Jean leads forward, eyebrows pinched, looking for streaks of red in Eren’s eyes, “Are you stoned right now?”

“What?” Eren pulls back, almost offended, “No, I’m not high—Jean, what the fuck?”

Jean simply shrugs, leaning back into his seat, “I dunno. Yesterday you were so stressed about your acrobatic salt cycle samples—”

“—Acetylsalicylic acid. It’s basically Asprin, and I wasn’t stressed, they just weren’t crystallizing the they way they’re supposed to—”

“I don’t fucking care. But now you look mellow as hell,” Jean cuts him off, “Just thought maybe you rolled a good one before coming here or something. Not that I’m judging, of course. But you’re much more of a lightweight than you think, so try not to go—”

“‘M not a fucking lightweight,” Eren groans, “You and Reiner are just heavy bodied.”

“Just admit you can’t hold your shit, Jaeger.”

“I’m not admitting shit. Mikasa makes strong drinks, that’s all.”

Jean grits his teeth at Eren’s stubborn antics, but lets it go. It’s not like the conversation was going anywhere, anyways. “If you’re not baked, then what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Eren shifts in his seat now, pulling his hand off the table, and into his lap. Jean’s suspicious eyebrow is quirked again, and that slightly creeped-out feeling is back when he spots Eren’s ears going red.

Jesus Christ, he just asked a simple question.

“Not that I care,” Jean tacks on, feigning disinterest, “But if it’s gonna keep you from doing your half of the project, just spill it already so we can get this shit over with.”

Eren rolls his eyes, but that blush is still there. He looks like he contemplates waving it off for a minute, before he sighs. “(Y/N) and I showered together yesterday,” he finally blurts.

Jean blinks. “Oh. So you got laid—”

“—No, no, it wasn’t like that!” Eren corrects him, the red on his ears spreading to his cheeks slowly, with every word that spills out of his mouth. Eren stutters, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “She just… She washed my hair.”

Eren sighs, flustered and frustrated, and annoyed that he looks like this in front of Jean’s horse-faced ass of all people; but he knows, that no matter how much shit Jean talks, he can rely on him. For better or (often times) for worse.

And Jean, for as hotheaded as he can get, and for as much as Eren annoys the shit of out him, knows how to read a room; and in this moment, he can see that Eren is actually coming to him with genuine emotions, other than masked anger and abrasiveness. So, the both of them concede; pull back from their usual pointed commentary, and listen to what the other has to say.

“Ah,” Jean comments, lamely; an embarrassed blush of his own growing on his face at his stupidity. The two sit in silence for a moment, before Jean speaks up again, “It’s, uh… It’s nice, right?”

Eren’s eyes snap to him, wide. He almost completely forgot that Jean’s in a committed relationship, too. The two don’t often go to each other for relationship advice, or… relationship venting, but Eren makes a mental note that maybe, just maybe, he should.

“Yeah,” Eren admits, “I don’t, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. It was just—”

“Relaxing?”

“Yeah. Like all the bullshit from school just melted away all of a sudden,” Eren confesses, “All she fucking did was wash my hair and hum for, like, five minutes, but I feel like… I don’t know. Good.”

Jean hums, acknowledging Eren’s words and mulling them over. “Loved,” he chimes in with an awkward cough, “Pretty sure that’s the word you’re looking for, Jaeger.”

Eren chokes on air, his eyes darting around the room. So, yeah, it’s still a little awkward, talking with Jean of all people about his relationship, and love, and all that gushy stuff; but, even Eren can admit, it’s comforting to know that someone knows what he’s feeling—even if that someone is Jean.

“You should tell her. Girls like that shit, when you tell em what you’re thinking, you know?” Jean comments, picking up his pen to resume scribbling in his notebook. He sounds nonchalant, but from the redness on his face, Eren can tell he’s just as flustered, and probably thinking about his own girlfriend. “Besides, you’ve been together for a long ass time now. Don’t know what you’re waiting for at this point.”

“Yeah,” Eren coughs, pretending to resume his own homework, “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Good,” Jean nods, “Now will you fucking paste your paragraph in the Google Doc so I can rewrite it and make it coherent.”

“Fuck you, it’s coherent as is.”

“As if. I’ve read your shit before, and it sounds like it was written by six year old on meth. You science majors can’t write to save your life.”

“Tough talk from someone who can’t do basic addition.”

“Derivatives and shit aren’t basic addition, they were created by a man who died a virgin. Tells me everything I need to know about them and you.”

Three days later, Eren finds himself alone in your off-campus apartment, laying on your bed, stomach to the mattress, while he tries to convince himself to study for his upcoming biology exam. He finds looking around your room to be much more interesting, though, and takes the time to notice things he hadn’t before.

There’s a small strip of images of the two of your in a clear mason jar on your nightstand—the newest addition to your collection—from the photo booth at the ice-skating rink you went to last week. Eren doesn’t know why you insist on going to every photo booth you come across, but who is he to deny you the pictures.

When he looks to your closet, he isn’t surprised to see two of his hoodies, one of his warm-up soccer uniforms, and last season’s hockey jersey hanging up. What does surprise him, is the way they’re all hung up next to each other, like they have their own little section amongst your clothing; like they were reserved, special almost. He bets they’re all probably washed and clean, too; because you take care of his things like that.

He thinks about how he has a few pairs of sweatpants and pajamas—hell, even a pair of slacks and a button-down from one of your fancier dates—all tucked away in his very own drawer in your dresser. The bucket hats thats you claim are oh-so ugly still have their own place in your room, hanging next to your belts. Even his psychology textbook sits on your desk, clearly set aside for him and taken care of, but still integrated amongst your other belongings.

You seem to be the only person who thinks Eren and all his baggage can have a place in your life. You seem to always have space for things to fit in, no matter how stupid, or ugly, or tattered they are; no matter how emotional, or lost, or impulsive he is. Nothing is out of place here, himself included.

Lost in his thoughts, Eren doesn’t register the sound of your front door opening, or your footsteps growing louder. In fact, he doesn’t register that you’re home at all, until you come padding into your bedroom, shaking your backpack off of your shoulders and setting it next to his on the ground.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him, almost offhandedly, as you place your coffee down on your desk. He doesn’t mind—actually the element of practiced casualness in your tone brings a kind of warmth to him, and makes his stomach flutter.

“Hey,” he smiles, a stupidly fond look in his eye as his watched you shimmy your jacket off of your shoulders.

Eren sits himself upwards, shifting so that his long legs dangle off the edge of your bed as he watching your silhouette move throughout your bedroom. When you’re finished removing all your layers and jewelry, you finally look to him, greeting him a second time as you walk towards him and your bed.

Eren cages you in when you reach him, his ankles wrapped on top of each other as he secures you standing between his legs. He wraps his arms loosely around your waist, while your fingers crawl up the nape of his neck.

“Your hair’s dry,” you hum, your fingers raking through his brown locks as if to make your point, “You didn’t shower yet?”

Eren shakes his head lightly, craning his neck forwards to tuck the cold tip of his nose into your collar. He holds you a little tighter when you smooth his hair down, one of your hands resting against the back of his neck, and lightly scraping at the hairs near his nape.

“How come?” you question innocently, “I thought your classes ended a few hours ago—did your lab go late again? You should tell your TA you have a life outside of trying to culture bacteria in a dish, you know.”

Eren chuckles lightly, but feels the concern in your voice tug heavily at his heart strings. You seem to really hate his lab TA.

“Wasn’t him this time,” Eren mumbles against your skin, “Was waiting for you.”

“Yeah? That gonna be a regular thing, now?”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Eren confesses, words barely audible as he buries his face into your neck. He tries tickle you with his eyelashes, shift the heat towards you, but you move out of reach too quickly; your hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit upright.

He has to look up you, just slightly, and he hopes he doesn’t look like a complete blushing idiot. If he does, you don’t seem to mind, if the way you cup his face between your hands is any indication.

“Well then, come on. I bought two new loofahs yesterday.”

Eren follows you to the bathroom with a smile, borderline giggling with excitement all the way to the shower. When it comes down to it, he relishes in the feeling of your fingertips against his scalp, suds of shampoo cascading down his neck as you find amusement in coiling his hair into a bubbly mohawk.

It’s so mundane, so simple, yet overwhelmingly intimate the way you’re taking care of him—the way you always take care of him. It fills Eren to the brim with emotions he can’t even begin to convey with words.

And when you’ve had you’re fun, and made sure his hair is throughly clean and smells like apples, you take your body wash on the ball of his (his! his very own!) loofah, and scrub away at his back, down his shoulders, across his torso; and Eren can’t stop the tears from falling.

He realizes his must look bizzare, to be standing the middle of your shower, crying like a baby with soap and suds all over his body, but he can’t help himself.

“Eren? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assures you, hiccuping between his words and sniffling away any more tears that threaten to fall. You don’t seem convinced, and once again, Eren feels his heart swell at just the sheer thought at you’d hold even an ounce of concern for him the way you do.

“You’re crying, Eren,” you point out, voice soft, but clearly concerned, as you reach your hands up to cup his face again, “Did I hurt you? What’s wr—”

Eren cuts you off by wrapping you in a hug, hoping—praying—you know that you could never hurt him. The two of you spend nearly five whole minutes like that, your arms wrapped around each other’s middles, with warm water pouring over your naked skin. Eren can feel you pressing shallow kisses into his chest, and he feels his heart physically swell every time your lips make contact with his skin.

It’s on the fifth, quiet press of your lips that Eren knows he can’t hold it in anymore; pulls away from your embrace to look you in your eyes.

“I love you,” he finally confesses, with wet hair stuck to his forehead, and teary eyes. It’s hardly a picture perfect moment, but Eren can’t bring himself to care; he needs you to know.

But, of course, you already did. “I know, Eren,” you say with a smile, kissing his chin, and then on the tips of your toes, his lips, “And I love you more.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren smut #eren fluff #aot imagines #snk imagines #levi x reader #jean x reader

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bangtae-sohotddaeng · 3 years

Text

tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls | k.th.

pairing: art-student!taehyung x creative-writing-student!reader

rating: m (18+)

summary: One drink too many at Hoseok’s Halloween party, and you’ve blanked out on the entire night that followed. Now, who’s gonna fill you in when Taehyung looks one second away from breaking into tears when you bring it up with him? From running across the university campus in remnants of your vampire outfit, to dealing with your downtrodden boyfriend’s disappointed stares - you’re left with one hell of a day, and zero recollections.

warnings: swearing + talks of alcohol (literally the whole tHEME of the story) + casual use of the word “amnesia” by careless college students + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts, really explicit makeout sessions, dry-humping, lil bit breast play, lil dirty talking, fingering) + love bites galore.

word count: 19.2 k

note: so. issa a humongous beast, i know. i literally cannot fathom how i wrote these many words without posting anything in between. also, believe it or not, i fleshed out the plot for this fic all the way back in June, 2019. it's taken me nearly two years and a HELL LOTTA editing to the basic storyline to finally be able to finish this off. also, i extended this AU to include all the boys, so...kinda had to rope in their stories, too, lol. hope you enjoy this while i go slave off on the rest of the six fics~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

A knock sounded, seemingly coming from the end of a miles long tunnel. You groaned, pursing your lips against the pounding that echoed in your head in response.

Gosh, what was this? Why was your mind so freaking foggy? What did you do last n—

"Angel? Are you in there with hyung?"

You wrinkled your nose, always hating how your boyfriend's entire group of friends had taken to address you by the pet name he gave you—to the limit where you legitimately didn't always remember that "angel" wasn't your name. They said it was somewhat of a "norm" in their group that came into practice when Jin forbade them all from saying his girl's name. Or getting too friendly by calling her “noona” in a really creepy way.

You'd had eight months' experience of this idiocy now, but that didn't make you cringe any less whenever you heard the address.

You tried swallowing past the sand in your mouth, eyebrows wrinkling as you willed your brain to interpret what the voice said beyond your "name."

And then it registered.

In there? With hyung?

What the hell?

"What? No, hyung, I can’t just rattle the knob to check—what? I might have heard some... wait. Why? What? No! Noona is—no, she's an adult, I'm sure she can make her own decisions! I’m not going to—I'm disconnecting the call, Namjoon-ssi, this is so uncomfortable!"

Your eyes fluttered open in pitch black darkness.

Namjoon-ssi? Who was referring to your dumbheaded best friend with such respect?

Wait, wait, wait.

…noona?

Only one person called you…

"Jungkook?" you muttered, wincing at how horrible you sounded.

Releasing a deep breath, you came to the conclusion that you were dealing with a hangover. A really, really bad hangover, because your recollection of how you got to this point was nil.

Blinking, you opened your eyes wider, looking around in an attempt to catch bearings of where you were, because the overwhelming heat wrapped around your body definitely didn't remind you of your cold ass dorm room.

You squirmed, attempting to stick your feet out of the warm covers that seemed to be stifling you whole, specifically your legs and your midsection.

"Nuuuu~nghhh…"

You froze.

What the—?

The voice—well, more of a groan that you couldn't really comprehend—had come from somewhere near your rib cage.

You pulled your arms down from where they were rested under your pillow, wincing at the soreness that'd taken residence in them. With slight shaky fingers, you reached over to where you hoped the nightstand would be. To your luck, your fingers brushed over a smooth table top before bumping into what felt like a button that could belong to a bedside lamp.

Swallowing the cotton wool lodged in your throat, you pressed down with your index and middle fingers, immediately hissing in discomfort when blinding light burned your corneas.

"Whaaa~nuuuuu…"

Something soft brushed against the underside of your boobs. Your eyes immediately snapped open wide, disregarding the killer headache that ensued. Your heart was pounding hard, fear climbing up your windpipe as you looked down.

Your naked boobs greeted your line of vision, followed by a mop of black hair.

You heaved in a huge gulp of air.

No.

No, no, no, no, this couldn't—

Was this—

Did you—

Were you naked?

You didn't realise when your eyes had squeezed shut, but they fluttered open when a contented hum echoed around you, a small gust of warm breath brushing against your stomach.

"Uh…" You wanted to say something to the fluffy, dark hair moving around over your abdomen, but you were at a loss.

Why was he lying over your naked body? God, was he naked, too?

What the heck had happened last night?

"Whoa." The fluffball on your abdomen moved completely, and a pair of round, pretty eyes connected with yours past your bared breasts. "What a beautiful sight to wake up to. Good morning, baby."

You involuntarily shivered at your boyfriend's gravelly morning voice. The damn pitch that was deeper than the ocean on the regular, tended to penetrate the layers of the earth itself when he woke up.

But…

Oh, God. You had only ever seen him topless. And only seen, not even touched. Or more. So, waking up to being topless and under him was making your heart beat out of your chest, and your body burn with sparks, all over.

"Um, Tae…"

"Hmm?" Plump lips connected to your skin, dragging over the sides of your breasts.

Your breathing was immediately unsteady even when your eyes widened in alarm. "T—Tae, wait…" You swallowed thickly when he climbed up your body and set his hands on the bed next to your pillow, his face hovering inches above yours.

You breathed in, preparing to speak past the bundle of nerves in your throat, and—froze.

A corner of your lips twitched.

His eyes were surrounded by huge pools of black, that you could now recall was eyeliner that you'd meticulously applied on him, last evening. The bright red lipstick he'd gone for in order to finish off his vampire look, was now smudged all the way down to his chin.

Despite the killer throbbing in your head and your panic at your state of undress, you couldn't hold back a fit of laughter at the sight. "Tae, baby—your makeup…" You managed to mumble between bouts of uncontrollable giggles.

Taehyung just grinned at you, shaking his head in silent humor. "As if you're any better. Ooh, look at this!" His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on your neck. "Your neck looks like you got attacked by a vampire, baby."

You smacked his chest with a harrumph, ignoring the warm, firm feel of it, rolling your eyes when he broke into laughter. "Pretty sure you were the one that did it, smartass."

"Well. I don't see a problem with it. We were supposed to be vampire mates, after all." Flashing you a smirk that would've been a lot more irresistible to you if it weren't for all the smudged lipstick on his face, Taehyung rolled off your body to sit at the edge of the bed. "This headache, though… ugh…" He groaned, massaging his forehead with a hand. "How much did we have to drink, Angel?

You slowly sat up in bed, dragging the sheets to cover yourself all the way up to your neck. Your brows furrowed in concern. How much did you have to drink, for real? The way you couldn't seem to recall literally anything from the party last night was kind of a sign that it had gone beyond your limits.

Clearing your throat in nervousness, you lifted the edge of the sheet to take a peek at yourself, breathing a tiny sigh of relief on finding your panties still wrapped around your hips. So at least you hadn't gone all the way, right?

Right?

"Hey, Tae," you called out, stopping your boyfriend on his way to the bathroom. He was clad only in a pair of boxers that accentuated his plump butt, which was also a first time experience for you, but you figured that it was better than nothing. "We, uh, what did we do last night?"

Taehyung looked at you over his shoulder, brows slightly creased in confusion. "What? We went to Hobi hyung's Halloween party, baby, dressed as vampires. Hence the makeup…?"

You shook your head, gulping down your nerves. Taehyung had completely turned around to look at you, now, arms crossed against his bare chest. In spite of the ridiculously smudged makeup on his face, he made a damn appealing sight. You willed your gaze to not stray down to his sculpted thighs for the sake of your own sanity.

"Angel?"

"I—I mean...after," you mumbled with flaming cheeks.

Your asshole of a boyfriend grinned wickedly at that, moving his hands to place them on his hips. "Uh huh. After, baby? What do you think?" He gave you an exaggerated wink.

You looked down at your fingernails, your entire body almost shivering out of nervousness and each one of your nerve endings inducing sparks all across your body. You were pretty sure you were blushing all the way from your ears, down to your chest.

Soft thumps of feet padding across the floor echoed around the room. You felt his warmth near you before his fingers tapped beneath your chin, prompting you to look up.

You did, eyes widened and breathing halted.

Taehyung's brows were lowered and lips pursed together as he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes. "Do you…do you not remember anything?"

The hesitation in his voice almost caused your heart to stop beating. Why was he being like this? Had the two of you actually done it, last night?

And…you didn't even remember anything?

"Angel?"

"Oh, God, Taehyung! Why do I not remember?" you suddenly cried out.

"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay!"

What? No, it wasn't.

You'd had sex with your boyfriend for the first ever time after eight months of dating, four out of which you'd spent dreaming extremely lewd and inappropriate dreams about him, and now―and now you didn't remember it!

"I'll go take a shower, and then we can talk about last night. Okay, baby? Hey, look at me," Taehyung softly spoke to you, carding long, elegant fingers of one of his hands through your hair. He cupped your cheek with the other. "Don't worry, Angel, you're just hungover right now. I'm sure it'll all come back once your head's feeling better."

You swallowed thickly, kinda pissed at yourself for feeling so emotional about this, but kinda more pissed at your drunk self for doing the do with the love of your life when she knew she was too far gone to retain the memories.

"I love you, baby," said love of your life murmured to you, leaning in to peck your forehead softly.

"Love you too, baby," you mumbled back, watching, from the corner of your eye, as his shapely ass made its way down the room and into the bathroom.

You exhaled, loudly. Even though you loved him beyond measure and trusted him completely, you didn't wanna talk to Taehyung, right now. He remembered everything from last night, and the torn, hesitant, kinda hurt look in his eyes made you feel insecure and disadvantaged.

You knew you had to cure your hangover first, vent out about how dumb you felt, and have someone reassure you that forgetting about your first time with your boyfriend wasn't the end of the world, before having that conversation with Taehyung.

And you also knew how you were gonna accomplish that.

You needed your best friend.

You’d already pounded on the door like crazy twice by the time you first heard movement from inside. What the hell was Namjoon busy with now? Hadn't he called Jungkook up just a while earlier, causing the boy to wake you up?

It was one o'clock on a Sunday morning, anyway. There was no way someone like Namjoon was busy.

Wait. Hadn’t he been at the party last night, too? You couldn’t really recall, to be honest.

God, what was Hobi serving last night?

Tapping your feet impatiently, you scratched at your cheek. The water base, super dry moisturiser you’d stolen from your boyfriend’s roommate was definitely not meant to suit your skin type. But you had no choice. You were in a crisis. You had needed to escape the dorm before Taehyung came out of the bathroom, and you couldn’t have exactly walked out with the remnants of last night’s vampire makeup all over your face.

You looked down at your ridiculous attire consisting of the leather shorts you wore last night, topped with a huge, off white sweatshirt you'd found lying over the living room couches. You guessed it was Taehyung's, but you were, embarrassingly, not completely certain and it very well could have been Jungkook's. Either way, it didn't really matter, ’cause, as mentioned before, you were in a freaking crisis. Your feet were wrapped up in the spare pair of bathroom slippers you kept at Tae's.

Exhaling loudly, you pulled up your arm to bang heavily against the damn door, again. "Where the fuck are you, Namjoon? Open up!"

Mere seconds later, grumbles seeped through the door to you, and then it was slowly unbolted.

You were gonna straight up fall into Namjoon and legit beg him to comfort you until your body melted—

"Well, hello there, sexy cheeks! What a pleasant surprise!"

You groaned aloud. Just what you needed to make this morning a bigger headache—your best friend's roadside romeo, can-never-keep-it-in-his-pants, creep of a roommate. "Jackson. Get the fuck out of my w—"

"And, FYI, I was referring to your ass cheeks."

You gritted your teeth. "Where's Joon?"

The cocky guy in front of you shifted to set his hips against the doorjamb. "Sleeping. He came in late, last night. That damned loser was at the party till two am on a Saturday night, and didn’t even bring a girl back home. What a fucking waste."

You squinted at him. "Bullshit. He called Jungkook earlier."

"Yeah, well, he went back to sleep after that. It's Sunday, sexy cheeks, even a nerd like Joon is allowed to sleep in today. He's been working his ass off at the library for a couple nights, anyway."

"Stop stereotyping him." You rolled your eyes. "Will you move?"

Jackson's silver blonde hair moved across his forehead as he tilted his head to look at you with a sly grin. "What if I refuse?"

"I'll stab you and walk over your body."

His eyes momentarily widened, but then he gave a nervous giggle. "O–oh? We won't want that to happen now, would we? Come on in, sexy cheeks!"

"Stop calling me that!" you snapped, walking into the dorm and heading straight towards Namjoon's bedroom.

"What? But that's my pet name for you! I don't wanna call you Angel like the rest of the fucking college!"

"It's just seven guys, Wang, jeez. Also, I actually have a name?" you yelled over your shoulder, fiddling with the awful door knob on Namjoon's bedroom door that was almost always jammed. Like it was right now. Good God!

"Your name? That's so mainstream, babe, have some respect for my vibe, at the very least."

"I'm not your babe!"

"But you could be!"

"I'll slap you, Jackson, shut the—" you broke off with a grunt as the doorknob finally twisted free. But your relief had a super short life, because then you had to nearly cause your shoulder to rupture when you tried to get the door to budge. "Why does this idiot not complain about getting this shitty fucking door changed? He'll get stuck in there someday and die, I'm telling you."

"Whoa. You're contemplating way too many murders for a Sunday morning, sexy cheeks. All okay?"

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "You want me to actually commit one of them?"

Jackson's eyes widened and he slowly retracted his steps to the kitchen, where he presumably was before he came to open the door, given the apron he'd tied over his muscle tee and the random patches of white powder that covered his exposed upper arms. You rolled your eyes once again, and gave a particularly hard push to the door, making yourself stumble in as the door suddenly opened.

Namjoon stood on the other side, though, eyes barely open and silver blonde hair mussed.

He was shirtless, in the process of trying to unwind a twisted up t-shirt. "Whoa, whoa—hol' up—when did I say you could come in?"

You paused. Your eyebrows lowered. Your eyes narrowed. The audacity?!

"I've seen you pantless, Namjoon," you deadpanned.

"Wha—is that even a word—"

"Dude, I've seen your penis when it wasn't as big as my pinky toe!"

"Okay, hang on now, it's got to be at least the pinky finger—"

"We were four. It was the pinky toe." You exhaled when Namjoon gave up and went back to getting into a t-shirt over his plaid shorts. "Are you not looking at me, right now? Do you not see what kind of a wreck I am? What sort of a best friend are you?"

"Uh, a sleep deprived one? And, for the record, I actually am not looking at you, 'cause my eyes aren't exactly open and functioning at the moment, anyway."

You shot him a glare, but then exhaled and slumped down on his bed with your shoulders drooped. "I fucked up, Joonie."

Namjoon stopped in the process of blindly hunting for his glasses in the top drawer of his nightstand. He looked at you, complete with his swollen ass eyes and bee stung lips. You would have laughed if your own tragedy wasn't laughable in itself.

"Stop gawking!"

Namjoon shut his mouth and straightened up. "I, uh… You fucked up? Kinda hard to swallow. You're an inspiration to everyone, babe. Angel never fucks up."

You groaned a little upon hearing the wretched "pet name" tumble so smoothly from your best friend's lips. "Angel? Really, Joon?"

Namjoon shrugged, standing on his toes and extending his arms above his head in a full body stretch before he settled on the twin bed next to you. "I've got to, hun. You know how Jin hyung gets when he hears any of us call you anything but Angel."

"He's not here right now, though, is he?"

"Well, I'm trying to practice." He shrugged a shoulder. "So, are you here to pointlessly argue with me, or are you here to discuss how, exactly, did you fuck up? You were with Tae last night from what I gathered out of Jungkook's flustered half-sentences. Did something happen between you guys?"

"Yes?" You grimaced. And then you thickly swallowed. "I… I had sex with Taehyung.”

You looked at him when Namjoon had been silent for too long. He was blinking at you. "I don't see any fucking up happening, Angel, only fucking Tae."

Oh, how you'd slap him into the next galaxy if you had the energy at the moment. "Kim Namjoon, I swear to God—"

"Okay, okay, sorry. So. How does having sex with your boyfriend equate to fucking up? What'd I miss?"

You sighed. "I was completely hammered, and don't remember a single thing."

Namjoon's eyebrows rose very slowly. "Wait…what?"

You frowned. "Don't make me repeat it, Joon."

"I'm not, girl, but. Just. I—I don't seem to comprehend."

"I had sex with him for the first fucking time, Namjoon, and I don't remember a single detail! You know, I wanted to know how it all went down, how intense, sexy and gorgeous he looked on top of me. I wanted to save it to my memory. If he was on top. Otherwise, what he looked like when desperate and begging below me."

"Wait—"

"But I remember nothing! I'm so embarrassed, Joon! Maybe he put those gorgeous ass fingers of his to good use. I bet he did!"

"Hey—"

"I don't even know if he ate me out or if I sucked him off, because I would have loved to, before we—"

"Holy fuck, stop! I don’t wanna hear that, gross!" Namjoon pressed both his palms against his ears, his face pulled into an expression of utter disgust. His mouth opened, probably to give you a piece of scolding, but then his gaze dropped to your exposed collarbones and his eyebrows raised. He removed his hands with wide eyes. "Now, I don’t know about those dirty freaking details, and I don’t want to—but I can guess that your night was definitely passionate. Maybe a bit rough."

You frowned, following his line of sight—

And then sprung to your feet with a loud gasp. "Holy fucking shit! What the hell—"

"Whoa—"

You gripped the neckline of the hoodie and tugged it away from your chest. "He left bruises, Joon, these aren't just bites!"

"Wait, wait—"

"God damn—" You struggled to wrestle the hoodie off your body.

"No—"

"I need to fucking see, Joon—"

"But I don't!" Namjoon squeaked.

You managed to remove the hoodie completely, your hands busy patting around your boobs to feel for bruises. You looked up at your best friend to find him turned away with both his palms pressed up against his eyes.

It took you a moment to realise that he was throwing a fit about you being topless in front of him. You exhaled. "Must I remind you that you've seen me pantless, too, Joon?"

"We were kids! And now we're not! I don't wanna pop a boner for my childhood best friend that I've shared poops with!"

You grimaced. "You won't, Joon. It's as you said—we've shared poops. It's physically impossible for us to get turned on by each other."

"I'm still a straight guy, though, and boobs are boobs."

You clicked your tongue, choosing to walk into his bathroom to, partially, save him from dying out of panic, but mostly analyse your upper body in the mirror.

You hummed to yourself when you found a blossoming patch of pink right under your left boob, and an almost navy spot above your right nipple.

You fought a whimper of despair. Sex with Taehyung seemed like something that’d get you wet by memories alone. But you'd already missed your first chance to make them.

You grumpily stomped back to Namjoon's bed and collected the hoodie you'd tossed on it. Pulling it over, you smacked a turned away Namjoon upside his head. "I'm dressed, loser."

"Not wanting to see your boobs makes me a loser?"

"Making a big fucking deal out of it while I'm stuck in a very embarrassing and kind of an impossible situation does!"

“Oh my God, fine! Let’s just talk about that stupid, overthinking brain of yours.”

Your mouth falls open. “The fuck? I’m not overthinking, Joon, for the love of—”

“Okay! Just—stop with all the cursing, you sound like Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get the basics down, then. Observe, analyse and calculate. You’ll tell me about how you feel in certain...areas of your body, and then we’ll conclude if any sex even actually happened or if you’re fussing over nothing. ’Kay?”

You dumbly blinked. If any sex even actually happened? You didn’t need any testing for that, Taehyung’s face had been more than enough to tell you. “No?” you sneered at Namjoon. “I know it happened. I need to know how to recall the details. Do you know, like, some brain exercise or something? Like, running a mental disk defragmenter of sorts?”

Namjoon sighed. “Listen—”

“Also, can you please dye your hair and stop twinning with the asshole next door? I feel like I’m talking to him and it makes me wanna puke.”

Namjoon sighed again. “He’s gonna dye his hair to match mine like he always does, it’s pointless.”

“Then shave it off.”

“Ouch, woman.”

“What?” You scowled at him, rummaging through his wardrobe to try and make yourself slightly more presentable. “And get ready. We’re gonna go get some breakfast. Greasy and cheesy. And you’re gonna tell me what to do. And I’m calling Munchkin to join us.”

As you carried a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom, you heard your best friend murmur something like, “this is gonna be a long day.”

Taehyung sat sprawled all over the living room couch, barely looking up when Jungkook's room's door opened. His eyes kept digging holes into your phone that you'd left behind when you made your—very obviously hurried—exit while he was in the shower. Why, though?

Taehyung was fucking confuddled.

"Oh, finally!" Jungkook's surprised voice floated over to him moments before the boy himself rounded the couch to look down at him, entering his peripheral vision with a water bottle in hands. "Where's noona? Tell her to call Namjoon hyung, he rang me up…worrying…about her…um. Hyung? You okay?"

Taehyung blinked, raising his brows as he hummed in question, refocusing his gaze on the younger boy. "What?"

"Did you, uh, hear anything I said?" Jungkook looked at him cautiously, taking wary sips of water.

"Yeah, I heard." Taehyung looked down at his hands. "She's not here, she left."

"Left? On her own? You didn’t drop her off?" Jungkook sounded innocently curious. He chuckled. "You still hungover, or what?"

Taehyung sighed. "Well, no. But she didn't ask me to drop her. Didn't even tell me she was leaving. Also left her phone behind, for some reason."

"Maybe she was in a hurry to get away from you after last night?" Jungkook's eyes were wide in alarm even before Taehyung shot him a glare. "Sorry, I didn't… Um. That was a stupid joke, I don’t even know why I said that when I don't even know anything. Um. Sorry."

"No, you're probably right," Taehyung regretfully mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. "She was gone within five minutes."

"And is that why she stole my hoodie, too?"

Taehyung's head snapped up, again. What did he mean by that? He found Jungkook frowning at one of the armrests of the couch. "The fuck did you say?"

Jungkook's big, innocent eyes looked at him in panic. "I—I mean, I left it here after I spilt ketchup on it! Remember yesterday's lunch burgers? And now it's…well. Not here."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, secretly exhaling in relief, while at the same time annoyed at himself for thinking stupid shit. And also at Jungkook for making him think it. "The hell, Kook? How does that mean she took it?"

Jungkook squinted at him. "Okay, so then did you take it? Because I sure as heck didn't touch it, hyung."

Taehyung stilled, realising that the boy was probably right, because the top you'd worn last night was still lying on his bedroom floor. He bit his lip. Had you actually been in such a hurry to get away? Get away from him?

Did you…hate him for last night? But you'd very clearly reassured him that you wanted it and were ready and you looked actually excited about it.

You’d looked really excited about it.

But maybe you were too sloshed to think then, but were trying to avoid him with your mind sober. Maybe you regretted agreeing.

Oh no. Oh no.

"We were drunk off our asses, last night," he tried to fruitlessly dissuade Jungkook, his voice coming out tight. Because what did it even matter if you'd already changed your mind? "Maybe your drunk ass used it to clean up your whizz and then threw it out your window and forgot?"

Jungkook's gaze turned even more speculative.

Taehyung looked away, eyes landing back on your phone. Distress gripped him.

"Um."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Say it."

Jungkook cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when Taehyung looked up to meet his shifty eyes. "Did you, uh. Did you and noona have a fight?"

Taehyung slunk lower in his place. "No, but we would now."

Jungkook cleared his throat in response before soundly gulping down water.

Taehyung almost laughed at his discomfort. The younger probably felt Taehyung needed some sort of counseling or suggestions, but he really didn't. And it wasn't just because he and Jungkook were not the best of friends despite being roommates for nearly a year now and part of the same group of friends for nearly six. No, he actually did not want it because that would make him worry that much more. He'd rather talk to you—apologize to you and try to make you understand as much as he'd be able to—whenever you decided to contact him.

Not that Jungkook would be good at consoling him, either way—the boy was horrible with words and had zero tact. His world revolved around gaming and studying music and minimal human interaction, a complete contrast to everything Taehyung was. Which was somewhat of a reason why they worked out so well as roommates.

"Uh…we…um. Nevermind." Jungkook turned to leave.

Taehyung mustered a chuckle. "Say it, Kook."

"Do you wanna go to Jin hyung's?" he spoke in a single breath.

Jin—the oldest in their group of friends and also the one Taehyung was the closest to—lived in a four bedroom apartment shared by Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin, and often, Jin's girlfriend, too, which was owned by a family member of Hoseok's. Namjoon, your best friend and the final member of the group, lived in a dorm on the other side of the campus, similar to Taehyung's own, with a school friend of his.

Now. Jungkook, being the youngest of the entire lot, was extremely insecure and conscious of himself around Jin. And so, despite nearly licking the very ground Yoongi walked on due to the guy's musical prowess that Jungkook was a fan of, the younger boy always tried to avoid visiting the house if not for extreme case scenarios when the entire group gathered there for activities that he was not allowed to skip. He usually just called Yoongi over.

And he was suggesting they visit? This had to have taken some guts.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanna go to that house?"

"Well, not really." Jungkook's cheeks tinged pink. "But you look like you could use Jin hyung's advice and stuff. He also, um, makes yummy hot chocolate. Jimin hyung and Hobi hyung could cheer you up, and. Um. Yoongi hyung could help me with my…semester project?"

"And here I thought you were being thoughtful!" Taehyung let out a laugh. “You just want Yoongi hyung’s help, you selfish brat.”

Jungkook ducked his head. “A little bit of both?” He clicked his tongue, whining. "Come on, hyung, I'm trying here!"

"I know, I know." Taehyung rolled his eyes but nodded, ending Jungkook's misery.

He eyed your phone and released a shaking, nervous breath.

“Well, I'm sort of driving myself nuts by sitting here. Let’s just go.”

“This is a disaster.”

You thumped your head against the table, groaning. “Gee, thanks, babe. Makes me feel so much better. I should’ve just gone back to the dorm. Wendy would’ve given me ice cream, at least.”

Your other only-best-friend-in-this-world—other than Namjoon, that is—rolled her mascara laden eyes. “It’s not my duty to make you feel better. I’m here to show you the mirror and be honest, not give you ice cream and kiss your boo-boos like your pussy roommate. That’s not helping. That’s ignoring the problem.”

“Fair point.” You sat up and looked down in your lap. “So. Do you honestly think I’m doomed?”

“I honestly think you’re stupid.”

You shot a glare at her.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! You yourself said you both had your lower regions covered, right?” At your nod, she clicked her tongue. “So you’re not even sure if you had sex, in the first place. And even if you did, so what? He’s your freaking boyfriend, bitch! Grab him and do the do whenever!”

“Will you tone it down?”

You jumped. And then scoffed when Namjoon settled on the empty chair on your other side, putting the tray of your frothing, steaming beverages down between you three.

"Tell me why you nicknamed this one munchkin and not guerrilla, again?" Namjoon grumbled, scowling at your girl best friend. "She's got their lung capacity."

"Because she's got munchkin legs," you mumbled, hurriedly bringing the styrofoam cup to your mouth to taste nirvana. “Ah, this is so good! And she walks super slow, like a freakin’ munchkin.”

"Oh, so that's also an insult?" Namjoon looked at your best friend with gleaming eyes. "I thought it was a pet name!"

Her eyes narrowed at Namjoon for a second, before her expressions dropped into a lascivious smile. "You thought it was cute, didn't you?" she dramatically batted her lashes, leaning closer to Namjoon, pushing her voluminous chest out. “You think I’m cute too, dontcha, Joon bug?”

Namjoon, immune to her dramatic, completely unnecessary seduction, blew a raspberry in her face.

“Ew, you animal!” she shrieked, flinching away as droplets of spit rained on her face. “Gross!”

“You asked for it,” Namjoon deadpanned, sipping from his cup.

“Guys,” you began. “Can we please talk about what I should do?”

“Uh, can I please also mention what you should not have done?” Munchkin squinted at you. At your noncommittal shrug, her expressions morphed into a sharp glare. “Sneak out. I mean, he’s your damn boyfriend of nearly quarter of a year, babe! Why the hell would you want to confide in Captain Dumbass, over here, and not him?”

“My IQ’s greater than you, but other than that—valid point, dude.” Namjoon turned to stare you down. “When it all winds down, and you end up sorting it out, he’s still gonna be hurt that you ran away, man.”

You bit your lip. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I forgot my phone at his place, too, so I couldn’t even text him.”

This time Munchkin turned her horrified gaze at Namjoon, and Namjoon at you. “What?” he squeaked. “You haven’t even texted him this entire time? Why didn’t you ask for my phone?”

“It’s almost three,” Munchkin mumbled. “He’s gonna be so pissed.” Her eyes suddenly turned wicked. “Imagine the angry sex.”

You snorted, bitterly. “How? I got fucking amnesia after our first time together, remember? I don’t even know what to imagine.”

Your best friends groaned in unison.

The second Hoseok invited them in, Jungkook went off like an arrow towards the direction of Yoongi's room.

Taehyung gave a dry chuckle, raising his eyebrows at Hoseok’s puffy eyes as he waved his hand before the guy’s face in greeting. “Good morning, hyung!” he said with fake cheeriness to grate on the elder’s nerves.

Hoseok gave him the most venomous scowl Taehyung had ever seen on the guy’s face and walked away.

“He was cleaning up till six am and then Jin hyung woke him up at nine to go grocery shopping!” Jimin called from his slump on the couch, past the entry hall. “Poor guy didn’t even get to get his dick wet in his own party.”

“Of course you’d mention that,” Taheyung snorted, moving to join Jimin in what seemed like a Netflix marathon. “What’s this?” He nodded towards the 50-inch.

“Pretty Little Liars,” Jimin mumbled, lifting his feet enough to make room for Taehyung and then rested them back in his lap. “It’s a story of some girls. Who lie. Because that is all that girls fucking do, apparently.”

Taehyung, despite his mental disposition, found himself snorting in amusement for the second time. “Where’s Jin hyung?”

“Dropping noona off at Jackson’s. They’re in a fight, so don’t ask him about her.” Jimin raised a brow. “All okay?”

“They're fighting? How're you handling it?" Taehyung teased, well aware of Jimin's fear of conflicts between the group's oldest couple, and got a glare back. "And, not all's okay. Kinda had a shitty night.”

“Could not have been shittier than mine. You came in with your babe, made out in every corner of the house, held her when she did a keg stand, leftmaking out—what could go wrong?”

Taehyung grimaced but didn’t protest. “When did Jin hyung leave? I didn’t see him on my way over. Why’s Honey noona even friends with that pretentious jackass Jackson, nobody likes him,” he chose to comment on Jin’s girlfriend’s questionable life choices, instead.

“Nobody but Namjoon. Don’t forget they live together. And he and noona are family friends, you know that.” Jimin frowned. “Why’re you so eager to see Jin hyung? He didn’t really say when he’d get back. Maybe he and Honey noona are…making-up. If you know what I mean. I sincerely hope they are,” he added with a despaired stare skywards as if tossing a prayer up to God.

“Shut up, pervert. I'll just text him.” Taehyung waved a dismissive hand, pulling out his phone.

Jimin cleared his throat. “At least ask me why my night was shittier, you ass.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, shooting Jimin a flat look. “You didn’t get laid, I already know it.”

“Well, that, yes. But also, the circumstances leading up to me not getting laid? Ugh.” Jimin scrunched his nose. “So there’s this cute, little, busty babe, okay? Shaking her boobs up in my face, and I know she wants to fuck, but. I can see how sloshed she is, so I, you know? Hold back.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, still typing away on his phone. “Doubt that.”

“I did, okay? Wait till you hear the rest of it.” Jimin’s head dangled off the armrest, upside down and Taehyung could only see his neck as he spoke. “She comes on too strong, and at one point—I can’t resist. But when she’s on her knees, she’s so confused that I… man, I felt so bad. She was wasted, dude!” Jimin pulled himself back up, nestling his head against the armrest as he frowned at Taehyung. “So I tell her no. She cries. I try to comfort her, but she just keeps sobbing. And then she fucking throws up all over my carpet and—I still fucking try to take care of her. And, you know, after I’ve given her hugs and a water bottle and so much pep talk—her phone rings and she says she has to go. Now, get this.” Jimin sits up, now scowling at Taehyung. “She has a fucking boyfriend.”

Taehyung couldn’t hold back the laughter that burst out of him, his head rolling back against the back of the couch as he held his stomach. Just the one time in his life Jimin tried to be a gentleman, it backfired. But it served Jimin right for trying to get into everyone’s pants. He told the guy as much.

Jimin scoffed. “I don’t try to get into everyone’s pants, dude. I’ve never tried to turn the charm on you, have I?”

“’Cause you know you’d fail.”

“I would not and you better believe that, Kim Taehyung.” Jimin suddenly licked his lips and sat up to get into Taehyung's personal space. “You see these lips? They—”

“Yah, Park Jimin! Get your paws off my dongsaeng!” Jin entered the house with a booming yell.

Taehyung sighed in relief, grateful for more reasons than one. “Morning, hyung!”

“It’s afternoon, brat!”

“I thought he was your dongsaeng?” Jimin mocked. “And for the record, he’s mine, too.”

“I’m barely three months younger, Jimin, fuck off.”

“Tae! Leave this idiot be and go wait in my room. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Taehyung stood up to locate Jin to find the older one heating something up in the microwave, aggressively pushing things around. It was a strange sight. Jin’s temperament was always cooler than a cucumber. And he especially tended to his kitchen appliances and utensils with an impossibly tender hand. He was clearly agitated, completely unlike how he normally was. Was his fight with his girlfriend that bad?

As if sensing his gaze, Jin looked up, concern shining in his eyes when they met Taehyung’s. Taehyung imagined his own must have reflected it back. “You okay, hyung?”

Jin sighed. “Been better,” he tiredly mumbled, running a hand down his face. “I saw your texts. I gather you haven’t eaten?”

Taehyung nodded, silently, walking around the couch to join the older in the kitchen. Settling on a stool, he observed Jin's furrowed eyebrows and set jaw. Something had to have happened recently, or he'd have noticed something in Jin's behaviour earlier.

“I haven’t eaten either, hyung,” Jimin yelled from the living room, sounding offended instead of whiny or seductive, for once. “This sort of favoritism is too much, even for you.”

Jin narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “You know, every time Honey ignores me, I'm immediately reminded of how you could have taken that blonde to your own room, Park Jimin. So no, the favouritism isn't too much. And for the record, you’re more than capable of feeding yourself. This one? Not so much, right now.”

Taehyung hung his head, curious about what all Jin just said to Jimin, but also immensely floored by Jin’s concern for his own well being. Despite clearly not being in the right state of mind himself, he was still caring for Taehyung. He mentally thanked Jungkook for bringing him here.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung placed his hands on the kitchen counter. “When I didn't see Honey-noona at the party last night, I thought it was work related. You two often skip parties to catch up on your beauty sleep and all that. Is something the matter, hyung?"

Jin extracted some sort of noodles from the microwave and shut his eyes. "She's mad at me."

Taehyung's eyebrows rose. Jin and his girl had been together for over five years, now. They were past the stages of fighting over petty things. It had to be serious. "Oh?"

"And it was triggered by something that idiot did!" Jin finished, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimin.

The latter clicked his tongue. "For the last time, hyung," Jimin called out, sounding exasperated, "she’s mad over something else. The sooner you figure that out instead of blaming me every time you meet her, the faster your fight would be resolved.” He peeked at Jin over the couch's back. "And can you please make a quick work of it? I hate this phase…"

Taehyung’s eyebrows lifted up. Escaping the blame—classic Jimin. “What, exactly, did you do, Jimin? What blonde didn’t you take to your own room?” he asked, repeating Jin’s words from earlier.

“Irrelevant. He’s actually correct,” Jin interrupted, walking out of the kitchen. “You'll understand when I tell you. But right now, let’s talk about your problem. Come on.”

Although Taehyung was both curious and worried about Jin’s fight, he was more downtrodden due to his own situation at the moment, so he decided to follow the older boy upstairs, to Jin's room.

On entering the room, Taehyung slumped into Jin’s armchair while the man himself turned on the lights and made his way towards Taehyung with a water bottle and a huge bowl of reheated chicken noodles in hands.

Taehyung uncapped the bottle as soon as it was handed to him, not realising how badly parched all the worrying had gotten him.

“I, uh, went to the shop you texted me. Have you guys really talked it through?”

Taehyung’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, swallowing a huge gulp of water.

Jin cracked a smile for the first time. “One of the thirteen texts you sent me was about this shop, remember? It was on the way, so I dropped by to look around, but I couldn't really choose—”

Taehyung’s phone rang, interrupting Jin. It was Namjoon. They both frowned.

What if the guy was still calling to ask about you, like he did this morning? Taehyung had assumed that you’d have talked to Namjoon, at least. His eyes widened when it hit him — you’d left your phone behind, how would you contact anybody?

He looked at Jin. Jin crossed his arms in front of his chest, gesturing to the phone with his eyes. “Pick it up.”

With sweaty hands, Taehyung picked up. “Hey, Joon hyung.”

Silence. He frowned.

“Hello?”

More silence. And then a hushed, indecipherable whisper sounded in the background which was followed by what sounded like a slap. Taehyung’s breath hitched.

“Angel?”

A sharp intake of breath filtered through the speakers to him. But then nothing else.

“Whe—” He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Tae.” Your voice was light, airy, almost like a whisper, but it managed to weigh down on his heart. “I’m okay.”

Of course, you were. You’d chosen to see Namjoon, apparently. Why wouldn’t you be okay?

“I—I’m sorry for leaving like…that. I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way.”

Taehyung was at a loss. “Wrong way? Angel, I…” He exhaled, shutting his eyes. In what way had he taken it? In what way was he supposed to take it? “Why did you leave, baby?”

No response. Taehyung’s heart seemed to keep on sinking.

“When can I see you again? We need to talk about last night. You know that, right?” He licked his lips and looked up at Jin. At the elder’s nod, he continued, “we need to finalize what we discussed. You get me?”

“I’ll see you tonight, Tae.” Your voice sounded tightly wound with emotions.

Taehyung took that as a good sign. “That’s great. I’ll be…I, uh. Just text me when you get to the dorm. Your phone’s on the coffee table. I’m at Jin hyung’s, I’ll come immediately.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Um. Tae? I love you.”

Taehyung could breathe again. “I love you, too, Angel. I love you so much.”

He’d barely disconnected the call when Jin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get some food in you and come with me. I went to the shop, but couldn’t really make the right purchase. You’ll have to do that yourself.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But I already told her to come see me! You nodded!”

Jin rolled his eyes, taking a spoonful of noodles and stuffing them into Taehyung’s mouth that was hung open in surprise. “Because we have plenty of time, genius! It’s three in the afternoon. We’d be able to make it back before six, at any cost. Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung took the bowl of food from him, his appetite announcing itself as soon as a bite of savoury deliciousness touched his tongue. Stuffing his face, he nodded at his phone. “Could you please put that to charge? It’s almost dead.”

And then he smiled to himself. He was gonna make everything right, tonight.

“I’m pretty sure five o’clock doesn’t count as ‘night’ in any culture across the globe.”

You ignored Munchkin’s sarcastic remark as you stepped out of the car, and gave Namjoon a grateful peck on his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here, Joon.”

“Great. Ignore me and then cry when there’re consequences.”

Waving a butterfly wave at a fuming Munchkin and a chuckling Namjoon, you stepped into Taehyung’s dorm building. You knew you were early, but your nerves didn’t allow you to sit still at Namjoon’s place. You didn’t dare go back to your own dorm, knowing how chaotic Wendy tended to get and not able to muster the energy you usually needed to deal with her.

Taehyung lived in the larger, spacier and definitely pricier North Dorms. They were more like mini-apartments, with individual rooms and a living room area along with a whole kitchen instead of the tiny kitchenette you had with your own South Dorms. Namjoon lived in the East Dorms, similar in design to these, but in a wackier condition and slightly less pricey.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. You would take your phone, text Taehyung to inform him of your arrival, have a glass of water, and patiently wait. Jungkook wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, so you’d have some time to yourself before Taehyung for here, which you planned to utilise by giving yourself mental pep talks.

You were gonna come clean to your boyfriend and tell him that you remembered none of last night, profusely apologise for panicking and running out on him, and then, if the mood allowed for it, request him to give you a refresher that you’d be sure to memorise properly, this time.

The door was opened. Jungkook immediately jumped, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he saw you. “Oh, my God!”

You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Hey, Jungkook. May I come in?”

He gaped at you for a few more seconds before shaking his head as if to break his shock induced trance. “Ye—uh. I mean, yes, you could, but hyung’s not home.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Just as you’d made to move ahead, Jungkook stopped you. His eyebrows were arched. “Unless, you don’t wanna see him and are here to grab your things—in which case, I really won’t let you in.”

You frowned. “What? No, I need to get my phone so that—”

“Absolutely not!” Jungkook blocked the door with an arm. “You’ve got to talk to hyung once before making any rash decisions, and I won’t—”

“Wait, what? Rash decisions?”

“—might be a bit young and inexperienced, but I will not be an accomplice in the ploy to get Tae hyung’s heart broken—”

“Heart broken?” You balked at him while Jungkook kept on spewing stuff that made absolutely no sense to you. “Jungkook?”

“—no clue what actually happened, but because you really should’ve stayed to talk instead of running away from hyung—”

“Jungkook!”

“—not been emotional, but this really kind of hurt me, too, and you have no idea how much hyung was—”

“For fucks sake, Jungkook!” You held the guy with both his shoulders, making him immediately shut up. “Are you even listening to me? Stop speaking!”

He blinked. “Um—”

“Stop!” You held a finger in front of his face. “Zip it up. Zero noise. Absolute silence.”

At his nod, you retracted your hands and pushed past him to enter the dorm. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up your phone which was kept on the coffee table—just as Tae had told you it would be—and opened your chat box with him.

Tae❤ hey babe, im here ik im a bit early but dw, take your time i will wait i love u 🥺

SENT at 17:03

“I have come to talk to Tae and apologize, Jungkook,” you finally said, turning to face the guy who was still awkwardly standing at the open door. “Now please shut the door and go back to whatever you were doing. I’m gonna be here, waiting till he comes. I’ve texted him.”

Jungkook closed the door, very slowly, still looking at you warily. “You aren’t going to break up with him?”

“What? Of course not! I love him!”

He visibly relaxed, even letting a hint of a smile swim onto his face. “That’s good to hear. I thought I’d messed up.”

You frowned, scrunching your nose up in confusion. “Wait a second, you had messed up? How?”

Releasing an immensely loud sigh, Jungkook walked up to sit next to you on the couch. “Uh…” He bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Well, you all know how horrible I am with words, right? It’s half the reason why I don’t talk much. I get too upfront, accidentally, and it gets horribly worse if I’ve deduced a situation wrongly and spoken about it.”

You gave a small chuckle. Jungkook was adorable, at times, looking way younger than his age. Not that you knew his exact age. You were certain he called you noona just because Taehyung was his hyung, and not because he knew your exact age. You could turn out to be younger than him, and he’d give you the same amount of respect and formality. “You just did that to me, a few minutes back.”

Jungkook shut his eyes with a wince. “Exactly. I did something similar this morning, and said stuff that I had no way of knowing facts about. And…” he trailed off again, this time squinting at your...well, boobs.

You immediately straightened. “Yah! What are you looking at?”

Jungkook looked up with rounded eyes. “That’s my hoodie.”

You looked down at yourself and physically cringed. You were the worst girlfriend in the world to not be able to tell the difference between your boyfriend's hoodies and his roommate’s. “Oh, God. Oh no, I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Jungkook gave a small, awkward nod. “It’s fine, you’re okay.”

You shook your head at yourself. “It’s been a horrible day, Kook.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with that."

You both sat in silence for a while, and you recalled how you’d imagined you’d get peace and quiet because Jungkook didn’t talk much. You mentally snorted. The guy hadn’t exchanged as many words with you in eight months, as he did today.

Your eyes fell onto the TV in front of you. You squinted at the animated, white-ish balloon-ish things.

"Is that Soul?" you speculated.

Jungkook's cheeks and ears pinked. "Um, yes."

You lifted the remote and wordlessly unpaused the movie.

Settling on the carpet on the ground next to the coffee table, Jungkook munched on some nuts as you both watched.

The movie was good – really good and engaging, so much so that you didn't check your phone for over an hour. When it pinged with a message, you suddenly recalled that Taehyung hadn't responded to your text. Sitting up, you grabbed the device to check.

18:23 Munchkin😾 (1 new message)

You sighed in disappointment.

Scrolling past your best friend's inquisitive message, you got to your chat with Taehyung. You frowned. The message hadn't been delivered, yet.

"Want some?"

You looked up with a start to find Jungkook's hand holding the bowl of nuts to you, his head still facing the TV. You cleared your throat. "Um, no, I'm good."

He retracted his hand without a word. "You okay, noona?"

You bit your lip. "Taehyung hasn't received my text, yet."

This time Jungkook twisted his neck to look up at you. The odd angle made it difficult to discern what expressions he held, but knowing him, it was probably surprise—his resident facial expressions, next to only occasional grimaces.

"He said he was at Jin oppa's and would come here as soon as I texted him, but…"

Jungkook hummed, turning back. "He is there, yes. We went together, but I left early because Yoongi hyung had to go to his studio. And I don't like to hangout with anybody else in that house."

You snorted at that, sobering the next second. You exhaled. "I think I should call him."

Jungkook gave a simple nod. You stood up with your phone to your ear. But then you stopped, mid-step. Taehyung's phone was switched off.

This was very unlike Taehyung.

You pursed your lips in concern. He'd sounded fine—if not more than a little low—when you talked on the phone. He didn't sound angry, that is to say. Did something happen in the meanwhile? You wondered what it could be, because as far as you knew, you hadn't done anything wrong other than running off to Namjoon for help. But it had been nearly three hours since your talk, so you couldn't really be certain about Taehyung’s mood anymore.

You were at a loss. What the hell were you supposed to do? Just stay here and wait?

But what if Taehyung was really mad for some reason and didn't come at all, and you had to stay the night? You were certain he wouldn't appreciate you staying in his dorm with his male roommate alone, overnight. Taehyung was far from an insecure or controlling boyfriend, but put in his shoes, even you would be irked if he were staying over at your dorm with just Wendy around.

You groaned at your chain of thoughts. What were you even thinking? This was so stupid. He would be here any minute, and this would all come to an end. You really wanted to slap your drunk self for putting you into this mess. Or, you realised, you could slap Hoseok for throwing the stupid party with memory wiping liquor, in the first place.

You sat back down on the couch with a thump. You were being unreasonably paranoid.

You took a few deep breaths, looking from your phone to the TV screen, and then at the back of Jungkook's head. "Jungkook?"

He hummed in response.

"I need some advice."

Jungkook turned to look at you, eyes wide in evident alarm. "No. Please no. I'm horrifyingly bad at that."

You clicked your tongue. "Tae's phone is switched off. He never turns his phone off, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked taken aback as well. He probably knew the fact. "Maybe it got discharged?"

You sighed. "Jin oppa's house has plenty of chargers and charging points."

Jungkook looked uncomfortable at that, fidgeting with his hands as he trained his gaze at your feet. "Um. I… I am not sure what…" he trailed off, biting down on his lip, looking beyond lost. "I don't even know what happened."

You shut your eyes and massaged your forehead with both hands. "What happened is that I got extremely embarrassed about…well, yesterday. Something—something happened which made me too nervous to face Tae. Coming here after so many hours, I thought I was ready to apologise and talk it through, but the longer it's taking him to get there, the more uncertain I'm getting."

You took a breath after you'd poured it all out. Jungkook was the last person you'd expect to understand your situation and give advice. But he prompted you to tell him – and it flowed out.

You shut your eyes tighter.

"If—if you think you're not ready," Jungkook suddenly began after a heavy silence of a few extended seconds, "you can step back and take a breather. Take some time to yourself, analyse and then build up the courage. In my experience, saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum."

His words gave you a pause. Namjoon and Munchkin's words came back to you. Taehyung was your boyfriend—you could talk to him, whenever. Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Well maybe because you didn't want the situation to deteriorate further. Jungkook was right. You should rethink your decision of coming clean to Taehyung, lest you create more problems between the two of you by upsetting him.

"Does… does any of that help?" Jungkook hesitantly asked you.

You gave him a big smile "I think it does."

As if on cue, the sound of a key turning in the door reached you. Jungkook's head whipped around to look at it.

You breathed in, preparing yourself.

“Why’s your phone turned off, hyung?” Jungkook accosted him at the door.

You saw your boyfriend over Jungkook’s shoulder. He was frowning, and was seemingly yet to notice you. “My phone?” He brushed a hand over his trousers’ pockets, dark, curly bangs brushing his eyelids as his head bent. You bit your lip. He was irresistibly handsome without even trying. “Oh fuck,” Taehyung enunciated, looking up at Jungkook very slowly. “I left it at Jin hyung’s. Did you say it was off?”

Taehyung stepped into the dorm, wide eyes immediately colliding with yours. “Um. Hey,” you squeaked, standing up.

“H—hi,” Taehyung stumbled on his words, eyes roving first on your face and then the rest of you. He momentarily frowned, probably recognizing Jungkook’s hoodie on you, and then met your eyes with a hesitant expression on his face. “How—how long were you waiting?”

You bit your lip. He seemed to be feeling guilty already. You reckoned it would be better to not add onto it. “Not long,” you simply responded.

Taehyung took baby steps towards you, while Jungkook glided around the place, shutting the door, turning the TV off, and then exited to his own room. You looked down at your feet, only looking back up when Taehyung’s own entered your vision. “Angel,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. His deep brown eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate. “What happened?”

The simple question made tears prickle the back of your eyes.

It was always so simple with Taehyung. He was never pretentious, never impatient, never expected the world out of you—and yet you did not share things with him like he deserved. Why did you always have to be so self conscious?

Something must have shown on your face, because the next second had Taehyung frowning and stepping forth to cup your face in both his palms.

“Hey, hey, what is it?” he murmured very softly, swiping his thumbs at your cheeks to wipe off the wetness trickling down your eyes. “Shh, it’s okay, come on,” he soothingly whispered before collecting you in his arms.

You rested your forehead on his collarbones, pulling your lower lip in to grab a hold of your emotions as you wound both your arms around his shoulders. “I love you so much, Tae,” you mumbled into his skin.

He inhaled and then exhaled, almost as if in relief. “I love you too, baby. I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head.

Pulling away, Taehyung held you by your upper arms and bent to peer into your eyes. His olive green Cuban collar shirt swayed with his movement, giving you a delicious glimpse of his toned chest. Realising how highly inappropriate it was to be thinking lascivious thoughts with tears in your eyes—when your boyfriend was trying to comfort you—you swallowed and focussed back on his eyes.

“Now, tell me. What happened this morning?” Taehyung questioned you with a boundless softness in his gaze.

You cleared your throat. "Can we – can we move this to your room?"

Taehyung nodded, readily, wrapping his elegant fingers around your elbows to lead the two of you into his room.

As you settled on the edge of his bed, your eyes caught your top from last night's outfit placed neatly folded at the top of Taehyung's dresser. You pursed your lips.

“So.” Taehyung sat down next to you on the bed, bumping his shoulders into yours.

You licked your lips, gathering courage. “I…this is gonna sound bad, babe, and, um, insulting even, but…” You turned to meet his eyes, desperately searching for any recognition. But you were met with cluelessness, and a subtle hint of apprehension. You sighed. “I — I had too much to drink last night, Tae.”

You felt him stiffen. His eyes gave away nothing. You waited for a couple heartbeats, expecting some indication that he was catching onto what you were trying to imply. Taehyung said nothing, though, and his face remained unmoving.

You looked down at your lap, wringing your fingers together. “I don’t know if I had too much, or if the combination made it so, but… I don’t—” You cleared your throat when your voice broke, chancing a glance at your boyfriend who was still as a statue. “I don’t remember a thing from last night. It’s all…a blur.”

Taehyung seemed to have stopped breathing, too, he’d gone so still. Very anxiously, you lifted your gaze to look at him.

You almost wished you hadn't, though. He looked shattered. Crushing disappointment was all over his face, hitting you like a lead arrow, and he wasn’t even looking at you.

You felt like running away, your cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. You tried to put yourself in Taehyung’s spot, employing your trusted tactic to discern how someone else must be feeling, but your head was too fuzzy with the unease you felt. You were mortified.

Taking a staggered breath in, you stood up on shaky legs. “I’m — I’m sorry, Tae,” you uttered, unsure if you were heard. “I really wish—”

“It’s fine, it’s okay. I understand,” Taehyung cut you off, suddenly, obviously trying to save face given the tight smile he had pulled up to flash at you beneath his saddened eyes. “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, shaking your head very slowly. “No,” you said. “It’s not okay, Tae. I — I wanted to make it memorable, too. Cherish the memories for life, however cliché might that sound. But I… I really blanked out, Tae.”

Taehyung’s brows got a slight crease in them by the time you were finished. But his eyes—those damned pools of love that you’d gotten so used to seeing boundless love in—looked strangely defeated. It almost felt like you’d done more than not remember a night of sex.

But then you reprimanded yourself by underlining how it wasn’t just any night of sex—it had been the first time you and the love of your life became one. Knowing how sentimental Taehyung was, it had to have hurt him tremendously. This time you were very easily able to put yourself in his place and realise that you’d be pretty pissed if he had no recollection of something precious to you. You took a step away, suddenly overwhelmed by immense guilt.

“Did nothing come back to you?” Taehyung asked, lips pouted and eyes rounded. “After so many hours, too?”

You shook your head, slowly. “I really tried, baby.”

Taehyung looked unconvinced, taking you by surprise.

He didn’t, by any means, think that you were lying about it, did he? You wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend’s overthinking brain.

“I think I — I need a break,” you blurted out, watching in horror how any remainder of color left Taehyung’s face. Jungkook’s words came back to you: saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum.

“A break?” Taehyung gawked at you.

You quickly shook your head. “A breather. Space. Some — some time to get over my embarrassment.”

Taehyung looked confused, but you couldn’t bear to wait and extend this conversation. Twisting in place, you rushed out of there, on your way to your own dorm, this time.

Taehyung sipped on Hoseok’s cheap beer, unseeing gaze stuck on the TV as some football match played on the screen. Next to him, Seokjin and Hoseok sat with their own bottles in hand. They were, decidedly, much more aware of the game than he was.

“Gah! That was a red card, come on!” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed at the referee.

Seokjin snorted. “This referee is blind.”

“Or sold,” Hoseok grumbled.

Taehyung blinked, unable to focus on the game however hard he stared. Shaking his head, he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.

His soul had almost left his body when you'd said you needed a break. You wanting to be away from him after last night would have been his biggest nightmare come true.

But then you asked for space. To get over your embarrassment.

Why were you embarrassed? He couldn't, for the life of him, decipher that one. Did you really regret last night that bad? Had you changed your mind? Or was it something else altogether?

But what the hell could it even be, then?

Hoseok cleared his throat, drawing Taehyung's attention to the redhead. "You could try out a new painting, Tae. It'd be a nice outlet, and, y'know? They say you create your finest art when you got a heavy heart."

"Pretty sure that's not what they say, Hobi," Seokjin deadpanned.

"Something along those lines, hyung, catch my drift." Hoseok scowled at Seokjin. “Art’s supposed to take your mind off stuff, right?”

Taehyung exhaled, proceeding to chug down the rest of the drink in his bottle. "I can't," he murmured. "Angel is…" He stopped, shut his eyes and exhaled. "She's been my biggest muse ever since I met her, hyung. I can't paint when we're fighting."

Seokjin noisily exhaled, puffing his nostrils up. "Then maybe you could—ah, I don't know, invest in a different sort of art?"

Taehyung frowned at the guy in confusion. Hoseok, though, seemed to have gotten onto something. His head of flaming red hair bobbed erratically. "Yes, yes! Great idea, hyung! You should come with me to the rehearsal hall for some time, Tae. It's been ages since you've been there. It'd be a good distraction, take your mind off all this disappointment and hurt."

Taehyung clicked his tongue. "I'm not disappointed. I'm—I'm just… just hurt."

Seokjin sighed. "You mean you aren't even the slightest bit irked that she used the excuse of missing memory to evade your…well. You know." He gesticulated with a hand around the other. "You are, aren't you?"

"Not really." Taehyung frowned and shook his head. "I mean, well. yes. Of course, I would've preferred if she didn't try to evade it and just talked to me. But maybe she really can't recall anything, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, what's the difference, either way? It all boils down to the fact that she has backed off. And that is what's…" He broke off, taking in a shaky inhale. "What's hurting," he finished on an exhale.

They all went silent for a while. Seokjn hummed. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You love dance and you love Hobi’s routines, so… it could be therapeutic to you. But don’t force yourself, we’ll think of something else.”

Taehyung exhaled, swiping a hand down his face. He really did love Hobi’s routines and it really had been ages since he’d been to the rehearsal hall. “No. No, I want to. I’ll join you tomorrow, Hobi hyung.” He passed the man a half smile, and got a full back. He huffed out a breath. “You guys wanna crack open something stronger than this?” he asked the two older guys, gesturing to his empty beer bottle.

Seokjin raised his hands in surrender. "I've got work, tomorrow."

But Hobi, the resident booze-man, grinned like a cheshire cat.

Your day had been hell, and your night was going to be, too.

After ignoring your calls for an hour, your best friends had texted you back telling you they were too busy to take your calls. They would have known, of course, what you’d talk about and prioritized their personal businesses above it.

You weren’t bitter about it, or anything…

Okay, you were. You were really really bitter.

Because Munchkin was at a party, trying to rope in some guy she’d had her sights on for a while. Needless to say, she was gonna be busy for the night. And Namjoon was working on some project for extra credits for his class tomorrow.

Your relationship being at the verge of splintering was, apparently, less important than a coveted hookup and extra fucking credits.

Your mother had sent you her customary checking in texts asking about your well being, and you'd made a whole hypothetical situation to ask her if temporary amnesia could be cured with some brain exercise.

Did you drink too much at that party you were going to? Are you okay?

You huffed a breath out, irritated but at the same time feeling really loved at your mother's accurate deduction of the situation. You texted her you were okay, she asked about Taehyung's well being, you said he was okay, too, and at the end she suggested you see a doctor if this felt too uneasy.

You thought about it for a while, but then realised a doctor wouldn't take you seriously.

yeah right, mom! if docs started treating everyone with temporary amnesia on campus, he'd be dealing with nearly the entire student population

The conversation with your mother certainly failed to help in any way. You had no solution at your hands and your mind wasn't taken off it, too.

You stress-ate a pint of choco-chip icecream for dinner and watched reruns of Victorious on your laptop. You cried when Beck and Jade broke up. And then you slept with your laptop still running the show in the background.

You had a fitful night’s sleep, riddled with horrible nightmares switching between you begging Taehyung to tell you what you’d forgotten but him just crying because he was so hurt that you forgot in the first place, and Taehyung never wanting to talk to you again because he thought you were lying about forgetting your special night.

You finally sat up in your bed at close to six am. Having had enough with the mess in your head, you decided to beg your best friends to help you out, one more time.

Seventeen minutes past six of the morning saw you on a conference call with Namjoon and Munchkin.

“I went to bed at four, bitch, have some mercy—”

“And I didn’t sleep at all, I’ve been working on the project the whole night, and—”

“Guys!” you wailed. “Please help me out here! I am at my wit’s end, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I don’t know who else to talk to! I swear if I did, I would not be bothering you two like this!” You exhaled when they’d both quieted down. “Not that you’ve been much help, so far,” you added under your breath.

“I did not sign up for being insulted first thing in the morning!” Munchkin protested. “And Joon, what the hell is up with all your late night working sessions, lately? Don’t you get enough time during the day?”

The comment had you momentarily distracted from your own issue as you furrowed your brows. “Good point. He’s been spending more odd hours than usual at the library, too,” you said, recalling how Jackson had told you about Namjoon’s frequent nightly visits to the library.

“What? I—I do work during the day, guys,” Namjoon jumped to his defense, “but… the work’s a lot, okay? Also, almost the entirety of my Sunday went into comforting Angel. Being an economics major just eats up your time, okay? And—and I really need a couple extra credits—”

“Stop, you’re rambling,” Munchkin interrupted, sounding bored.

“And obviously lying,” you added with a shrug, even though they couldn’t see it.

“What? What? I’m not—”

“Honestly, Joon, nobody has time for your theatrics, okay? If you’re sneaking around with a girl—although I’m willing to bet my nail extensions you’re not—it’s cool. Do whatever,” Munchkin sounded half asleep, but what she said rang true with you, too.

“Absolutely. We won’t pry, and won’t judge.”

“It’s not a girl, guys, come on—”

“Already bet on it.”

“You mean it is something, then?” You squinted.

“Wait, how did this conversation go from Angel’s crisis call to a semi-intervention on me?” Namjoon protested, bringing you back to the ground.

You groaned. “Oh, yes. No, sorry, we don’t have time for diversions, right now. Help me resolve my crisis first.”

Munchkin clicked her tongue. “I still really fail to see what the big deal is? So drinking gave you amnesia like a total weirdo. Yeah, okay, it kinda sucks, but it’s not the end of the world! You two love each other! Move past this! Make new freaking memories, and get over it!”

You bit down on your lip. “I… I would have done that, eventually, but… you guys don’t know what happened last night.”

“Yeah, we do. Sort of. You left thirty seven messages in the groupchat, so we get the gist,” Namjoon reminded you.

“Okay, so you do know. So. Guys, it’s become a big deal because Taehyung has made it into one. His behaviour last night…” and you launched into a retelling of your whole encounter with Taehyung at his dorm.

For the better part of an hour, your dear best friends listened to you go on about how Taehyung seemed heartbroken because of your missing memory, and how you felt he didn’t even fully believe you when you said you didn’t remember anything. You also brought up, time and again, how this one incident was gonna end your relationship.

“Okay, okay, hold on!” Namjoon finally interrupted your rampage. “This is all rubbish!”

You stuck your bottom lip out, turning to your side in your bed. Wendy had been out the entire night, last night. You wondered what she was up to because she wasn't the type to sleep around or go to parties. Maybe she had a sleepover with some of her girlfriends. You honestly couldn’t strain your mind over this on top of everything else, so you shut your eyes.

“Firstly, Taehyung isn’t gonna break up with you because he suspects you’re lying about the memory loss. That’s just stupid and unlike him, and I’ve known him longer than you,” Namjoon continued. “Also, I still think the key to this whole issue is communicating. You need to open your mouth and ask the guy what happened last night. Don’t be demotivated by his saddened face, push through.”

“But… you know, Jungkook said to me that sometimes saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum. And I literally said the absolutely worst combination of words I could to Tae, last night! Almost made him think I was trying to break up with him. How shitty—”

“I bet he’s not even thinking about it right now. I bet my hair extensions on it,” Munchkin interrupted with a snort. “He’s probably sleeping off another hangover. Boys always end up drowning the conflicts in their lives in alcohol.”

You rolled your eyes. “As opposed to what you do? And stop betting your extensions on things.”

“But, she’s kinda not wrong, Angel,” Namjoon intervened, “you’re definitely overreacting a bit. Jungkook has hardly ever known what he’s talking about, all through his life. You’re letting his words affect you? All you can do, right now, is have a decent conversation with Tae where you hold his hand, look into his eyes and ask him to tell you what exactly happened last night.” He paused. “The night before, now, I guess, ’cause it’s morning…”

You sighed, opening your eyes to blink at Wendy’s empty bed. “I don’t know, guys… He looks so freaking shattered and disappointed every time I try to talk to him, it just feels like a slap to the face.”

“Ugh, stop thinking so much about everything,” Munchkin groaned. “And if talking to him seems like such a humongous challenge, then talk to someone you know he would have confided in.”

You sat up at that, eyes open wide. “Jin! Jin oppa! Tae shares everything with him, and he even went straight to his place after I left his dorm, too! He would know everything.”

“Now, now,” Namjoon began with a nervous lilt, “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to ask around when you could ask—”

“Shut up, Namjoon, it’s a fantastic fucking idea,” Munchkin cut him off.

“Yes. Yes, it’s a fantastic idea!” you exclaimed, checking the time. “It’s past eight, he would’ve left for the restaurant. I can make it after my Scriptwriting class and catch him during his lunch hour! Thank you, guys, thank you, so much!”

“Great to be of service. Now let me go back to sleep, I’m skipping all my classes today,” Munchkin muttered into the phone.

“For the record, I still don’t think it’s such a great idea—”

“Nobody cares, Namjoon, go back to sleep. You have a boring-as-fuck class in less than two hours.” With that, Munchkin disconnected your three-way call.

You tossed your phone to the side and laid back on your bed. This could actually work out. You could ask Jin to fill you in on what’s been going on in Taehyung’s head, and then go talk to your boyfriend with full preparation.

Noon couldn’t come sooner.

Jin’s face was pretty expressionless when he got into his usual lunch booth and met your eyes instead of his girlfriend’s. He didn’t look surprised, at all. He literally didn’t even blink, just gave you a once over and reached for his bag to fetch his lunch out. That should have been your warning sign, but blinded by your own selfish goal, you missed it.

“Oppa, hello,” you respectfully greeted him, wringing your hands in your lap. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced, but I wasn’t sure you’d be welcoming if I told you beforehand. You know why.” You looked down at the table, at Jin’s lunch of some salad and a smoothie. “I—I think you do, at least.”

You waited for Jin to say something, but he simply kept chewing. His eyes looked at you so blankly, he almost seemed to be looking through you. This was nothing like the Jin you knew. Either he was in a really disturbed state of mind, or he was really mad at you for what happened between you and Taehyung.

You suspected it was the latter.

“Um,” you couldn’t find the right words to say. “I—I tried talking to Tae about this, but he gets really upset and unbelieving and I… I lose courage.” You swallowed. You were losing courage now, too. “So—so, oppa, did he… Taehyung, he… what did he say about last night?” You bit your tongue. “I mean the night before. Hobi—Hobi oppa’s party’s night.” You focussed your gaze at your sweaty hands resting in your lap. “I drank God knows what combination of alcohol, and…and can’t seem to recall the events that followed us leaving the party. Taehyung is really worked up about it all, so…” You looked up to meet Jin’s flat stare. “Will you tell me what happened that night? What—what Taehyung’s been so worried about?”

Jin sipped at his smoothie, smacked his lips, and had just opened his mouth to say something, when a familiar voice rained down on the two of you from the side. “Well, this is fabulous!”

You jumped, snapping your head to the side to see Jin’s girlfriend standing close to your booth in her waitress outfit, lunchbox in hand and rage on her face.

“So, now you have engagements during lunch, too. Great. Just great.”

“Unnie, I…” You trailed off as the woman silenced you with a sharp glare. Tossing another one at her boyfriend, she twisted on her heels and left the break room. “I… what did I do wrong? She—she did recognize me, right?” you nervously asked the stoic wall sitting before you.

“Taehyung is upset because you’ve been hiding behind the excuse of this fictitious memory loss—that doesn’t happen in real life, mind you—to get out of the promise you made to him while drunk,” Jin told you in a slightly high pitched, obviously enraged, and nearly unrecognisable voce.

You gaped at him. “I really do not remember, oppa! Why would I want to forget about my first…” You slowly came to a halt as it hit you. “Wait, what did you say? The promise I made to him? What promise?” you rasped, bewildered.

Jin scowled at you. "What first time were you going to speak of? I don’t know about the intimate details of your relationship, and I don't want to, because that isn’t material here.” You ducked your head as your cheeks pinked. “You two drunkards were getting all emotional about loving each other a lot and wanting to stay together forever, so Tae proposed the idea of sealing it with a ring.”

You gasped. “I—a promise ring?”

“Mm hmm,” Jin hummed with pursed lips. “And then, when you got sober and realised you shouldn't have made that commitment in a haste, you ran out on him, instead of telling him straight up. And since then you’ve been confusing him with mixed clues instead of properly talking to him about what you want.” Jin’s jaw was set. “Why can’t you just have a proper talk, huh? Why do you women have to be so mysterious and expectant about things? Use your freaking words, for one damn time in your life! Men can’t get into your head to guess shit! Say it, and maybe we’ll be able to resolve it! Use words to describe what you actually want, and maybe I'd be able to get it done!”

Jin was breathing hard, his eyes were blown wide and a few veins in his forehead looked close to popping. You swallowed, feeling nervous, confused, dumbstruck and a tad bit scared for your life, at the same time. “Uh… you?”

Jin blinked, and the hazy, mad look lifted from his gaze. His lips parted and he sighed very noisily. “No, not I. It’s just… I started to project my personal issues onto you. Sorry about that, kid.” He forwarded a hand to pat your shoulder in apology. “You got what you came here for, though, right?”

“I… yeah, I guess. Although…” I cannot believe that that is what I forgot. No wonder Taehyung looked so downtrodden.

Gosh, you were a fool!

“Thank you so much, oppa!” you announced to Jin, getting up with a new spring to your steps. “I’ll get going, now.”

You bounded out of the restaurant. You literally could not believe what you’d just learned. Smacking a palm against your face, you shook your head at yourself.

You concentrated, again, this time to recall conversations from last night instead of actions. And surprisingly enough, some of the fog cleared away as you started recalling things…

…you are beyond toasted in this shimmery polyester top and leather shorts you’d worn as your costume. The minute you step into Taehyung’s room, you are scrambling to get out of them.

Your boyfriend chuckles as he locks the door after himself. “You’re more than welcome to take it off, and more, babe.”

Your mind has gotten kind of hazier than you’re used to. But knowing how Tae always makes fun of you for being a lightweight — which you’re really really not, Tae just holds his liquor better than you do — you avoid bringing up your state of mind. You laugh at his teasing remark.

Within seconds, you have thrown off your top and shorts, and are snuggled between Taehyung’s covers. He himself has stripped down to his boxers. You give a lazy smile as your eyes rove his torso. “What happened to wearing pajamas when we cuddled?” you tease, sleepily.

Taehyung gets in bed next to you, rolling over to pull you to his chest. He smirks down at you, complete with his vampire makeup. “Too balmy tonight. And too tired to find pajamas.”

You giggle, burrowing yourself into the warm, soft skin of his chest. You poke a finger into his pectoral muscle.

“Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re muscly, babe. Those oversized clothes hide you well,” you observe, licking your lips as your hands smooth over his chest and stomach.

“And you’re sexy,” he responds in a rasp, eyes stuck on the cleavage exposed by your bra. “Do you usually sleep with this on?” he asks, snapping the strap against your shoulder.

You wince, shaking your head. “It’s too hot to wear a shirt, so…”

Taehyung pulls you in closer, staring deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Despite all the ridiculous makeup, your heart skips a beat at his intense stare. You nod.

His hands slide behind you to unhook your bra. You gasp when the clasp is released. “Relax, baby. It’s just me,” Taehyung whispers to you in a soothing voice. “I won’t even look if you ask me to. You know that, right?”

You do. But you also do. Want him to look, and more. As the garment is pulled away from your body, slowly, Taehyung’s eyes remain stuck to yours. Your own water at the love, admiration and respect you feel for him in the moment. Actually, not just in the moment. Always.

A sob escapes your lips. You rush to wrap yourself in his arms, again. “Baby?” he sounds worried. “What—what happened, sweetheart?”

“I just love you a lot, Tae,” you speak into his skin in a nasally, snot-filled voice. “A lot. You’re my most precious gemstone in the whole world. Never leave me, baby. Never ever.”

Taehyung presses a multitude of kisses to the crown of your head, and you feel wetness seep into your shoulder when he nuzzles your nape. “I love you too, my babylove. And I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

“Promise?” you mumble. “This is forever?”

You feel him nod against you. “Forever, baby. I promise.” He pulls away from you, eyes still on your face as he wipes away your tears and the obviously ruined makeup if his own is anything to go by. “Do you want to seal it? With a promise ring?”

You gasp. This is the stuff from teenage romance novels that you’ve always dreamed of. “I… Yes! Yes, Tae, oh my God, yes, yes, please yes!” you happily chant, grabbing both his hands and wringing them around as you roll in the bed.

Taehyung chuckles, calming you down by pulling you in for a kiss. The familiar heavenly feel of his pillowy lips has you quieting down and kissing him back. His palm slowly travels up the curve of your waist to curl around the side of your breast. Your breath hitches.

Taehyung brushes his tongue against your lower lip, and pulls back. “Is this okay?” he asks, giving a slight squeeze.

You almost squeak at the sensation, rapidly nodding your head like a dummy. Smiling, he captures your lips again and massages his palm over the peak of your breast, squeezing when you moan into his mouth. You lose yourself in his taste and touch.

His lips travel lower to your jaw, peppering kisses on their way. You release a sigh of bliss, hands carding through his hair. His teeth scrape over your collarbone, quickly latching onto the skin of your neck. You cannot hold back the whine that leaves you, sensations travelling down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Mine,” he breathes into your skin, sponging kisses over the bite he has just left. “Only mine.”

“Only yours, baby,” you breathe out, rolling on your back as he presses his face against your sternum.

“You’ve made me the happiest man, bub,” he breathes onto your chest, a finger drawing patterns around your navel as he cuddles into you. “I’ll get you that ring and prove myself to be the best boyfriend, in the world. I’ll love you more than you ever thought was possible.”

Tears trickle down your eyes at his words. “And I’m gonna be the best girlfriend in the world to you, baby. You’re my dream come true. My real life prince charming.”

He doesn't say anything for a while, just hugs you tighter. His lips feathers soft kisses to the tops of your breasts, and a hand plays with imaginary patterns on your stomach. And then you feel his head getting heavier. You want to ask him if he’s sleepy, but you cannot even open your eyes with how heavy they’ve gotten. You breathe out as he holds you closer, and slowly drift into sleep...

Your eyes watered as the scenes played out in your head, everything you’d been unable to recall gradually coming back. You realised you’d been going about it the wrong way, trying to recall your passionate moments, when it had all been an extremely emotional affair.

You bit your lip as you called Taheyung’s cellphone. You were gonna beg for his forgiveness and then kiss him silly. You loved this boy so much, oh God.

The phone was picked up after three rings. “Hi, kiddo!”

You blinked at the unexpected voice and greeting, but then recognised it to be Hobi’s. Oh how you wished you could yell at the guy for making your life miserable by mixing drinks at his damn party. You exhaled, though, and tried to clear your head. “Hobi oppa, hey. Where’s Tae?”

“At the Kappa rehearsal hall with me!” Hobi cheerfully told you. “We’re doing a k-pop routine today. You know how he gets with those, right? He’s been practising this one move that he can’t get right for so long, ugh. Do you need a message conveyed?”

You frowned to yourself. It had been a while since Taehyung visited the rehearsal halls. Was he trying to distract himself from the disaster you’d brewed up for him? Very likely. “No, no, I’m gonna…” You stopped yourself. Maybe an element of surprise would work better. “I’ll call later, when he’s done,” you said, instead, already mapping a way down to the university campus and the rehearsal hall as you hailed a cab.

You received Hobi’s text on your way, stating that they were all leaving for the ice cream parlor opposite the building and that you may contact Taehyung now if you wanted to. You were kind of grateful they’d all left the rehearsal hall. You weren’t sure how you’d call Taehyung aside in an echoing hall with mirrors and Hobi’s dance team. And what would you do if he refused you? You weren’t prepared for that kind of humiliation. An ice cream shop, you could do.

On reaching your destination, you exited the cab, determined. You looked up at the striking capital K embossed in gold atop the Kappa rehearsal hall. Then you turned to look across the street and spotted a quaint, cosy looking ice cream parlour painted in beautiful pastels. You crossed the road with hurried steps.

You took a deep breath in. You were gonna apologise your butt off, and then kiss him in the middle of this very place if you had to. God, you felt so guilty! You were gonna make this right.

As you pushed the door open, the entry bell tolled, alerting the girl behind the cash counter of your presence. As she flashed you a bright smile, you realised she looked familiar. She had a really kind face. Maybe you’d seen her around the campus, maybe she was one of Wendy’s friends.

You stepped in and returned her greeting with a small smile of your own. Then you looked around to spot Taehyung and Hobi’s group. Hobi caught your eye first, standing out with his fiery red hair.

You walked over. “Hey… everyone,” you greeted the table, awaiting Hobi’s reaction and hoping he’d be kinder than Jin. Although half of Jin’s ire seemed to have come from his personal troubles which you really had known nothing about beforehand. You smiled when Hobi’s surprised eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Oh! Hey, kid!” Hobi greeted you with a huge grin, easing your worries. “You, uh, you came here, whoa!”

You gave a bashful shrug, awkward because you didn’t recognise anyone other than Hobi on the table.

And then you did a double take at the table. You didn’t recognise anyone, indeed! Where was Taehyung?

Hobi noticed your searching eyes. “Oh, Tae went back to the hall, he’d left his phone. He’ll be back in five.”

You exhaled. That wouldn’t do. “I’ll catch him back there, no problem.”

Hobi shrugged his shoulders, without question. “He’d be in hall G.”

Nodding him a quick thanks, you took off, leaving the ice cream shop, and crossed the road back to the rehearsal hall. As you stepped foot onto the linoleum floor of your university's most coveted rehearsal hall, you realized you’d never been here before. Past the revolving gates, you encountered a small reception area where you had to show your college ID to get yourself checked in.

When the man passed your ID back to you over the counter, you made your way down the corridor which was lined by various gates that were numbered alphabetically. These were probably the individual halls. The corridor, you noticed, ran quite long. God, how huge was this place?

On reaching the door marked with a G, you stopped. The door wasn’t fully shut like all the others you’d walked past, right now.

You gave it a slight push, peeking in. Taehyung’s shapely butt greeted you as the guy leant over on the floor, rummaging around for something. Probably his phone. You gaped at the sight for a few extended seconds, before realising how you were being a creep.

You cleared your throat and gave the door a firmer push, opening it wide enough for you to step through. Taehyung’s wide eyes met yours in the mirrored wall he was sat before. You sucked in a sharp breath as his attractiveness smacked you in the face, yet again. Dressed in plain black joggers and a loose fitted t-shirt, he should have had nothing on your white colored high waisted shorts and pale blue button up, and yet he looked like a freaking Greek God, while you...well. You really just looked like a potato trying to play dress-up in front of this guy, swear to God.

He straightened up, running a hand through his dark hair, his eyes following your movements through the mirror as you stepped in. His gaze seemed apprehensive and he really didn’t seem to be in the mood to speak, anytime soon. “Hi,” you whispered through a scratchy throat.

Taehyung’s eyes travelled down your body, making you blush from the inside out as they lingered on your legs. “Hey,” he finally said, audibly exhaling as he sat down, this time, to rummage through some towels and water bottles lying on the floor next to the wall length mirror. “You done with your breather, overnight, then? Can you give me a ring? I can’t find my phone.”

You bit your lip at his caustic tone and taunt. And also at the lack of an address. No babe, no angel? You’d really hurt him. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you quickly said, holding back the flood that was filling up your heart as you fished your phone out from your pocket.

The buzz of a cellphone’s vibration filled up around you. Taehyung bounced back to his feet, attentively kicking off a soaked towel, and there, on the floor, you saw his phone. You disconnected the call as he picked the device up. “Thank you,” he mumbled, breaking your heart with the formality and the repetitive lack of address.

He walked up to you on careful steps, eyes scanning your face as if accessing something. You breathed in. “Tae, can we talk?”

His eyebrows did a thing where one of them rose and the other lowered, very slightly. You nearly creamed your panties. “Depends,” he gruffly said, looking away to inspect his phone. “Are you gonna run off in the middle of it, again?”

You winced, ducking your head in shame. “No. No, absolutely not. Never again, I promise,” you mumbled. You looked up and caught a brief glimpse of his shattered expressions before he pulled on his mask of indifference mingled with slight bother. You felt like shit. “I’m so so so sorry, baby,” you said without any ado. “I acted like a complete idiot and—and really hurt you.”

Taehyug’s whole body seemed to deflate. With his lips pursed and eyes shut, he shook his head. “That you did, babe. That you did.”

You clamped your lower lip between your teeth. “Forgive me? Please?” you breathed out in a really desperate voice, ready to beg on your knees if you had to.

Taehyung opened his eyes with a tired sounding, noisy exhale. “It’s… well, of course, I’ll forgive you, Angel. You’re the love of my life,” he said with a small smile while his eyes still emanated immense sadness. He looked so heartbroken and lost that you just wanted to give him a tight hug. “But, baby. Why? Why did you go through all this trouble of faking memory loss? You ran out on me twice within twelve hours, you know. It hurt like a bitch that you couldn’t just talk to me about wanting to back out. I would’ve understood, baby. You were drunk and emotional, and I—”

You gasped when it hit you. Faking memory loss? Wanting to back out? Oh no. “Tae!” you interrupted him, stepping forth to put both your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to splay them and push them into his toned flesh. “You’ve still got it wrong. I didn’t fake any memory loss, baby. I genuinely did not remember. I promise. I didn’t lie.”

Taehyung frowned, looking confused. “What? But…why did you leave like that in the morning, then?” he asked in a soft voice, looking vulnerable as his hands came up to loop around your wrists.

Your skin as well as your heart warmed at his familiar touch, and this time you did splay your fingers out a bit on his pectorals. “I…” You felt your cheeks and ears heating up when you realized you’d have to actually tell him what you’d assumed you’d forgotten. “Um, Tae, we—uh, we were nearly naked when we woke up, you remember?”

Despite the situation, a corner of his lips ticked up and his hands left your wrists to wrap around your waist. “Uh huh, vividly. What of it?”

You felt the heat climb down your ears, to your neck. You looked down at his beautiful collarbones to avoid the intensity his eyes suddenly shone with. “Well, it — it made me think that maybe, you know… stuff might have happened between us. Um, you know…?”

When you felt his hold slacken, you looked up to find Taehyung gaping at you with his jaw dropped really far down and eyes as round as golf balls. “You thought we had sex?” he squeaked, face contorting in horror. “No…you thought you forgot that we had sex,” he corrected himself, horror growing on his face as you pursed your lips in silent acquiescence.

“I felt horribly embarrassed,” you quietly confessed, making his grip on you tighten again. “Our first sexual encounter was — well, is going to be something I remember and cherish for the rest of my life. I hated myself for blanking out on it.”

“But you could’ve asked me!” he desperately said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Yeah, about that.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I kinda did, but somebody just gave me suggestive glances and confuddling freaking words that concreted my doubt of us having had sex!”

Taehyung grimaced. “Yeah, I was tryna tease, but it came back to bite me in the butt.”

You rolled your eyes with a small chuckle, sliding your palms past his shoulders to grip his neck.

“As it stands, I’m sorry, too.” He looked at you with parted lips and big, innocent eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that.”

You looked in his now regretful eyes with love bubbling in your chest. “How could you ever think I would wanna back out, baby?” you whispered, leaning in close enough to taste his favorite strawberry milkshake on his breath. “You really are my most precious gemstone in the whole world, Tae,” you relayed your words from that night, making his eyes widen. “My dream come true. My real life prince charm—”

With a growl Taehyung captured your lips in his. You melted in his embrace, nails digging into the back of his neck as you drank your fill of him. Your lips moved in sync, the most natural rhythm in the world to you. You had missed this, missed him so much, in just a day. You really couldn’t live without this boy. He was your whole world.

His tongue swiped past the seams of your lips to delve deeper, and you allowed him entry with a deep moan, going lax in his arms as he plundered your mouth. You felt him move you around, and then a cold surface was pressing into your back. Taehyung sidled up to you, his planes molding smoothly into your curves. You sighed into his mouth, tasting him to the fullest as you ran your own tongue over the ridge of his upper teeth. His chest vibrated with a groan, making you shiver.

You closed your teeth around his lower lip and sucked, making him gasp and push against you harder. His own teeth scraped against your upper lip. Goosebumps spread all over your body.

His arms left your waist to pull at your own, slowly travelling down your shoulders, to encircle your wrists and pin them next to your head. He pulled away with a heaving chest, and you gasped in a large breath. Your eyes fluttered open.

He looked good enough to eat with his eyes shuttered, dark hair brushing his miles long lashes, and lips cherry red with your kisses. “I love you so so much, my babylove,” he whispered, strawberry scented breath washing over your face.

You inhaled his essence. Your eyes watered at the love reflected in his own. “I love you, too, Tae. I love you forever.”

Pinned between him and, you could now tell, the mirror, your heartbeat quickened when he licked his lips. Without another word, he leant down to sponge open mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Tae,” you breathed out, “we’re in...publi—ah!” you broke on a gasp when he licked a strip up to your jaw.

Your eyelashes fluttered as he came back up to look into your eyes with his own darkened in lust. “You didn’t cover the marks, did you?”

Your breathing almost stopped at his deep octave. Nearly trembling in his grasp, you shook your head. “I w—w—wore a shirt to… hide ’em,” you managed to breath out, going insane under his heated stare.

He let go of your arms to unbutton the collar of your shirt. You looped your fingers through the waistband of his joggers, chewing on your lower lip when he undid another button. And another. And then another. “You look really fucking sexy today, by the way,” he grumbled into your neck, leaning in to lave his tongue over the deep purple marks he’d left there. “Love the shorts.”

You bit back a whimper when his teeth scraped against the flesh just beneath your collarbone.

“I happen to remember another mark,” he spoke into your skin, nose dragging down your sternum and sinking into your cleavage. One of his fingers came up to drag against the top seam of your bra. In a swift motion, he scooped the cup down to free your right boob. One of his fingers came up to encircle your nipple, making it peak immediately. Humming in satisfaction, he moved the shapely digit up to rub against the mark you remembered he’d left there. “Would you look at that.” His voice was now a growl, hot breath warming the skin of your breast as he spoke. “My baby looks so pretty.”

That was your last warning before Taehyung was engulfing your peak into his mouth. You stopped breathing. Frozen in place, your thighs tingling at the sensation and your core clenching in anticipation, a breathless heave left you when his tongue flicked against the pebbled nipple. You desperately clutched onto him for dear life, one hand grabbing hold of his shirt at the waist and the other coming up to grip a tuft of his hair. “Tae...hyung,” you whined, eyes screwed shut as he sucked hard.

He let go of your boob with a pop, only to tease his mark with kitten licks. You were gonna die.

One of his hands glided over one of your thighs, hooking under your knee to lift your leg up and slot himself further into you. Your eyes flew open when you felt the stiffness between his legs. He felt hard. And he felt huge. Gulping, you tugged at his hair to pull him away. He separated from you with dazed eyes, blinking rapidly as if to focus on your face as he breathed through his wet, rosy, parted lips.

Sexy fucking beast.

As you looked into his crazed eyes, he pressed harder against you, pushing his length against the crotch of your shorts. You whimpered, your fists tightening on him when the zipper of your shorts bumped into your clit. Taehyung’s eyes lit up with interest. He repeated the motion. You threw your head back, giving up when he picked up pace, rubbing against you with his own breathing laboured.

Sweat beaded your forehead, and his hand came up to support the back of your neck, palm of the other still holding up your leg to provide him with the required leverage. You let out a guttural moan when he leant in to lick at your nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Tae…” you sighed, attempting to collect some semblance of your sanity, but failing.

Taehyung sped up, almost rutting against you, and you rolled your hips against his to match the pace. His mouth latched onto your neck, shooting off sparks down to your core and fueling the fire bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to combust. “My baby,” he grumbled into your ear, scraping his teeth against the flesh behind it. Your entire body shuddered. “Only mine,” he growled again.

You nodded blindly, gasping when he bit down on your flesh. His hand suddenly left your neck to brush down your front, tweaking your nipple, and settled onto the waistband of your shorts. His eyes met yours through the haze of lust you two were choking on, and you gave him a nod of consent. He deftly unbuttoned the garment, hips not ceasing for a moment as his fingers glided down your abdomen.

The first contact his fingers made with your clit was explosive. Your back arched off the wall, mouth falling open on a silent scream. He nudged against your bundle of nerves twice, before moving down your wetness to sink two of his gorgeously slender fingers into you. You had been flooding your panties since the moment your eyes met. Both his fingers slid right in. His hips stuttered to a halt, lips falling open on a gasp. Your hand left his head to clutch at his shoulder, pulling him in further when he let go of your knee.

“You are soaking, baby,” he breathed, awe and surprise spilling off his throaty timbre. His fingers curved in you, rubbing against that spot inside of you that had taken you months to locate properly. He did it in under five seconds, and now he was playing you like a violin. You were gonna die!!! Your eyes fell shut again. His fingers were merciless, massaging your insides and pushing against your warmth. “Yes, you like that? Do you like that baby, hm?”

You managed a broken nod, gasps layering on one on top of the other. “T—Tae…Tae…”

“Come on, my love. Let go,” he whispered, swiping his tongue over your trembling lips before latching onto them.

A stroke of thumb against your clit, and you fell apart with a vibrating groan into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach suddenly expanded into a tsunami of sensations that travelled down to every single nerve ending in your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as waves over waves of blinding, white pleasure crashed into you. Your legs jittered beneath you, spasming beyond your control.

It took you longer than a few seconds to come back to the land of living. You were not used to this.

You opened your eyes excruciatingly slow, as if waking up from unconsciousness. But when you did, Taehyung had already extracted his hand back from you, righted your bra, buttoned up both of your garments, and was now licking your wetness off his fingers with his eyes shut. The sight made you thump back against the wall, jolting his hand that was holding onto your waist and making him open his eyes in surprise.

You looked at him from under your lashes, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “What…” you panted, “the hell…”

Taehyung had a starved look in his eyes when he met yours that, despite just having had the best orgasm of your entire life, made you wanna throw him on his back and ride him to the high heavens. “I take it you liked that,” he murmured, cradling your waist in his arms.

“Liked it? Are you insane?” you scoffed. “Taehyung, I…” you heaved a breath out, picking up your leaden arms to rest against his shoulders. “I couldn’t breathe. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable and at the same time protected.

Taehyung, contrary to your expectations, gave you a sincere smile instead of the smirk you’d envisioned. “Makes me the happiest man. I love you so much, you know?”

You giggled, pulling your lips in. “I love you, too, you insanely insanely sexy man,” you teased, making him scrunch up his nose in embarrassment. Something poked your thigh when you shuffled closer to him, and you gasped. “Babe, what about you… your… um.” Your wide eyes pointed down at his nearly fully erect member.

Taehyung gave a laugh. “Well, we can always go back to the dorms and take care of it together,” he suggested, making your cheeks flame up and your battered pussy reignite in excitement. “I was dry humping you like a thirteen-year-old. Couldn’t let our first sexual encounter be about that.”

“You were lucid enough to think about all that?” you asked him, genuinely curious.

“No, that was a lie.” Taehyung gave you a bashful shake of head. “I was a goner, babe. I just…” His tongue came out to lick at his lower lip. “I just had this sudden urge to feel you. Couldn’t control it.”

You shakily exhaled. “Your fingers are amazing. No, you are amazing,” you mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. You suddenly pulled back with your eyes wide. You looked around the hall, frenetically. “Wait, this place doesn’t have cameras, does it?”

Taehyung laughed with his lips pursed. “Of course not, darling. Who do you think I am?”

“A really sexy guy who missed his girlfriend?” you teased again, and this time, he kissed you in retaliation.

Pulling away, he looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Wait,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket for something.

You had a guess what it could be.

Pulling out a plastic case that obviously housed a ring, Taehyung sucked in his lower lip as he looked at you. Pinning you against the mirror, he popped the box open between your faces. Your eyes left his to look at the ring — a simple, silver band with a dainty knot embossed on it. Your eyes watered.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled through a clogged throat.

“My angel, my other half, the love of my life,” Taehyung whispered, paying no heed to the tear that travelled down his cheek, “do you promise to be mine forever?”

You sobbed. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you nodded, frantically. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I promise to be yours forever.”

He plucked the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Sobs wracked the two of you as you hopped into his arms, tucking your legs around his waist when he lifted you off the floor. “I love you so much, oh baby,” he sobbed into your neck.

“I love you, too, my love, I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, after crying for a while, admiring how cute the ring looked on your hand, ensuring that Taehyung wasn’t even the slightest bit hard, and nearly leaving his phone behind again, the two of you exited rehearsal hall with your entwined hands swinging between you.

“So,” Taehyung suddenly commented, a sly smirk on his face. “Bet you can’t get amnesia about coming for me in Hobi hyung’s rehearsal hall, huh? Even if you tried? Mission accomplished!”

You gasped, raining down smacks on him right there, on the side of the road. He was gonna tease you about your wrong interpretation of that night, forever, it seemed.

“Hey, I was kidding!” Taehyung exclaimed, sheltering himself with his arms. “Let’s go ask hyung what he mixed with the vodka that gave you amnesia in the first place!”

You stopped with your attack. That seemed like a great idea. You were dying to ask the man that, yourself. “Let’s.”

As you two walked back to the ice cream shop, your ring glinted, reflecting sunlight. You looked at Taehyung who was grinning to himself.

You were the happiest, today, that you had ever been in your life.

note: angst by the virtue of miscommunication is my fav sort of angst to write. in the original draft, this story was to end when OC got back to Tae's dorm to sort things out, but then my mind said naAAHHH. mORE ANGST!!! lmao, anyways. thank you for reading! jin's story should be up next, if all goes according to plan. wait around~ 😘💕

#vantaenet #bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts v #bts kim taehyung #kim taehyung #bts imagines #taehyung imagine #*mine #tossw #youth series #IM SO FUCKING EXCITED ABT THIS SERIES YAAAAASSSSS LEGGOOOOO

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shadowworks · 4 years

Text

Compulsion

Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader

Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab

I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕

Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)

On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.

You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.

The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.

“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...

Seeeee, my baby there;

She's stretched out on a long, white table

She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”

Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.

“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.

She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.

“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“

You stop in the doorway.

There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.

“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat

Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain

So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”

You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.

Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.

What the fuck?

You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.

“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.

Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.

But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.

You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.

So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.

You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.

Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”

You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.

Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.

“You don’t want to know what happened?”

You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.

“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”

It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.

“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”

Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”

“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.

Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.

The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.

“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”

“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”

“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”

“But my arms hurt!”

“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”

“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”

Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.

There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.

“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”

“Are we burying him?”

“Think the lake’s faster.”

“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”

You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.

Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.

You just happen to see it first.

“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”

Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.

Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.

You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.

“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.

If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.

Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.

“Enjoying the view?”

You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.

He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.

“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”

You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.

“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.

You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”

“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”

Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.

“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”

You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.

“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.

“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.

Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”

“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—

(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)

“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.

“Is that right?”

(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)

“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”

Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?

“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”

A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?

“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”

As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”

“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.

“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.

You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.

Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.

“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“

Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.

“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”

Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.

“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.

You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.

“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.

You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.

“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.

You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”

It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.

“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.

He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”

“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”

“Can do, boss man.”

Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”

It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.

“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.

A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.

“I forgive you

'Cause I can't forget you.

You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”

He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.

“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.

“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.

His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.

You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.

Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”

When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.

“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.

He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was the other way around.”

He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”

Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.

“I didn’t help her kill him.”

“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”

“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”

Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”

With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.

How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.

You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”

You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.

“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”

In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.

“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”

His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.

“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.

Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.

“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.

“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”

His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”

He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.

“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”

He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.

Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”

He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”

He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”

Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—

He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.

He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”

Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?

Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.

A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,

“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”

***

P.S, this might be a mini series 👀

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #dabi #touya todoroki #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfics #mafia!dabi #tw blackmail #tw blood #keigo takami #bnha x reader #the smut pile #tw dubcon #shadow tales

1K notes · View notes

utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

Hello! Could we get an hc or fic where Ethan and MC are a little rusty when they have sex after the attack? Realistically if MC didn't hook up with the other LIs after 1.17 I kinda feel they'd be a little rusty 🤔

so a mc that was completely faithful to ethan? hmmmmm

ok ok this assumes that:

1. ethan and mc got jiggy with it in 1.15/17; 2. mc hasn't had eyes for anyone but ethan; 3. the car sex didn't happen.

this is also kinda nsfw. minors dni.

edit: i definitely lost the plot here 😂

Back at It

It’s been weeks since the attack. Since her entire world was thrown upside down and shattered. Weeks since the memorial and the revelation in Ethan’s car. Weeks of them making eyes at one another in the hall, standing a little too close together, staying just a bit too long on shift so that he could drive her home.

Weeks - nay months - building up to this one night.

They’ve kissed since Ethan confessed his feelings that fateful night, sure. She’s slept over too. But they haven’t done it since her intern year. Since that last night where they were both just two people, not director and subordinate.

There were moments in between where they could have. Could have jumped the gun and gave in for the sake of giving in.

But that wouldn’t have been right. Not for their budding relationship, and, most importantly, not for her recovery.

So they waited. Bonded.

Until they were stuck in New Hampshire. Snowed in at a luxury ski resort, snugged up on the couch of Ethan’s penthouse playing make-believe. Until she was in his lap, his lips leaving long, sultry kisses on her neck. Until her fingers fisted in his hair.

Ethan wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible. Their chests pressed together. Scotch on his tongue as she captures his lips in a heated kiss, his mouth opening to her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life. Their kiss was tender, unyielding, loving. Not a single one of their problems seemed to exist. Only here and now.

Now.

His hands grabbed handfuls of her hips as her distracting ministrations moved lower down his chest. Her lips at his neck, teasing the pulse point with her tongue. Her fingers teasing the buttons of his shirt. Ethan’s head lolls back, letting her have her way with him.

His hands slide up under the back of her shirt the same moment her nail grazes his navel and her teeth nip his neck.

Ethan lets outa guttural moan.

MC pulls away, scooting just far enough down his lap to take in the complete man sitting in front of her. Her hands fell to her lap, intentionally grazing the metal of his belt.

He’s looking at her so intently, her breath gets caught in her chest. Her eyes flutter as two of Ethan’s fingers clutch onto her chin, bringing her close once more, yet not closing the distance completely. In this moment they both became instantly aware of how close they are; physically, mentally, spiritually.

Every cell in their bodies was full of wonton anticipation, her core ablaze and her lungs ready. Their eyes were still locked when Ethan brushed their lips against one another.

This kiss is brief. A question lingering in the miniscule space between them. The tips of her fingers still at his belt.

“Are you sure?” Ethan asks, his eyes flickering from her fingers to meet her eyes.

She nods, chewing on the smile that begins tugging at her lips.

Ethan wastes no time. Crashes his lips to hers. Wraps one arm securely around her back and the other anchored at her thigh. Peppers kisses along her cheeks as he lifts her. He takes long steps to the bed through her elated giggles.

He gently sets her down on the oversized mattress. They remove their clothes with haste. Ethan shedding his shirt and trousers in record time, then helping MC tug out of her skinny jeans.

They fall into bed; kissing and touching and moving until there is nothing left between them. Until Ethan’s on top of her, their breaths ragged as he lines himself up. Thrusts forward. She slides up the bed, and... nothing.

“Oops,” she tries to make light of it. Spreads her legs wider, angles her hips upwards. Ethan tries again. She’s wet, so wet. Just the tip can feel how ready she is. He thrusts once more, careful and precise and.. she’s so tight. So tight he can’t press further because her pretty little face is scrunched up in what he can only assume is pain.

“I’m hurting you,” he says.

“No, no,” she tries to dismiss as she wriggles underneath him to make it work, like she’s fitting two pieces of a puzzle together for the first time. “Let me go on top.”

So they switch positions. She’s straddling his lap, he’s holding himself in place. MC lowers herself, but it’s still not working. One more try as she rubs her wetness over him. Alas she’s still too tight for comfort.

And so, they go back to basics.

Like they’re two college kids making this last forever. His face between her legs, tongue and fingers working her - stretching her and helping her relax. Eventually, after he’s brought her to the brink minutes before, Ethan kisses up her body and they connect for the first time in almost a year.

It’s natural. It’s perfect. It’s absolute bliss.

____________________

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#ethan x mc #open heart #open heart hc #open heart headcanon #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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byrachel · 4 years

Text

EMBRY CALL EARLY MONRINGS

word count: 672

summary: Embry’s cute face is enough for (Y/N) to forgive him for accidentally waking her up

warnings: none

note: @fatiguing-thoughts brought to my attention that I’ve been neglecting Embry for a while now so this is for her :))

The blaring sound of your boyfriend’s alarm snapped you out of your morning slumber, rudely interrupting your peaceful dream your rich imagination had made up for you. Most days you were the one turning off the alarm while Embry slept through each and every of one like he didn’t have anywhere to be. Honestly it was the only downside of living together with him, but after the first few months you were used to it and you didn’t mind waking him up in exchange for some freshly baked eggs.

Your heavy lids somehow found the strength to flutter open, but the rest of your body lied still not finding the energy to move a single muscle. Lazily staring at Embry’s broad back it was merely moments before you could feel some movement on his side of the bed. You could hear his finger tapping onto his phone screen a few times, an amused smile forming on your lips as he couldn’t blindly find the slumber button. Eventually the ear deafening sound was silenced and an exhausted, but relieved sigh fell from his lips.

Embry gently lifted the covers off his body and you could tell by his cautious moves he was under the impression you were still asleep. You smiled, moved by his actions, but before he actually had the chance to swing his legs off the bed to sit up, you reached your hand out to his shoulder and pulled him back.

You moved your body against his back, forcing your arm between his arm and his waist, nuzzling your nose against his feverish skin, not wanting his side of the bed to get cold. He was the only reason you were warm at night and you weren’t ready to let it go of your personal heater just yet. “Leaving me so soon?”

He chuckled, softly lifting your arm off his body so he could turn around to face your gorgeous face. “Good morning to you, too.” He whispered with a faint smile and droopy eyes.

You could tell by his slow movements he wasn’t totally recovered from patrolling last night, but the sight of his morning face was probably the most entertaining, yet cutest thing you’d ever seen. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

His hand rested on the side of your face, his warm thumb softly caressing your cheek. You softly nudged your head against your pillow. “Good thing you’re cute, I probably would’ve been mad if you weren’t.”

“I’m glad, because you have to wake up next to this face for a long time.”

“Assuming I won’t break up with you for waking me up with your loud ass alarm every day, sure.” You teased.

“Very dangerous thing to say when you’re so ticklish.” A devilish grin creeped onto his face, making you slowly shake your head knowing exactly what he wanted to do.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” You quickly exclaimed, taking ahold of his hands to keep him from restraining you and poking your waist until you couldn’t breathe.

“That’s what I thought.” Embry laughed, removing his hands from your grip before grabbing onto you and pulling you into his chest. As he wrapped his arm around your frame you could feel yourself being consumed by his warmth, almost immediately dozing off again.

You completely melted into him, humming against his chest while he dipped his hand under your shirt and rubbed figures into the curve of your back. It was almost like your eyes closed on their own. Although you were heavily distracted by your exhaustion, it wasn’t long before you realized why Embry’s alarm went off in the first place.

“Shouldn’t you get up? Sam won’t be happy if you’re late again.” You said, lifting your head off his chest to look up at him.

“Hey, don’t ruin the moment.” He shushed while pulling your head back against his skin.

You shrugged your shoulders and closed your eyes giving into him without a struggle. You weren’t the one getting yelled at later anyway. “Oh well.”

masterlist | not edited

#thaliawritesx #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight wolves #twilight wolf pack #wolf pack imagine #twilight wolf pack imagines #embry call #embry call imagine #embry call fluff #embry call x reader

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pilothusband · 3 years

Text

fly me to the moon

Rating: M-ish (a lil spicy at the end)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, boner mention, a douchebag, a little hint at food shaming

Word count: 2.5k

Description: You go on a date with a complete asshole. He takes you on a helicopter tour, not expecting the pilot to be the one to sweep you off your feet.

Author’s note: Probably should have edited this more but meh. This was completely self-indulgent. Unbeta’d. Let me know what you think!

gif by @pedroispunk

Why did I agree to go out with this jackass in the first place?

Your eyes were starting to feel sore with the amount of times you had rolled them throughout your date. He hadn’t noticed the exasperated movement of your eyes, too swept up in talking about the summer he spent in Ibiza with his former fraternity brothers, his medium rare, overpriced ribeye untouched.

So far, everything had felt off. The way he pulled up outside of your apartment and honked his horn to signal his arrival, the anchor cufflinks in his freshly pressed suit, paired with a pair of leather boat shoes and a salmon-pink button down. You loved a man in pink, but the rest of the outfit just felt like it didn’t fit together. Was he going to a wedding or going to party on a yacht? You had glanced down at your own outfit, a simple black dress that stopped mid-calf and hung loose, just barely hinting at your curves.

God, you hoped he wasn’t going to take you on a boat.

You had only agreed to this date in the first place because Liam, an investment banker who worked in your office building in the suite below yours, had asked you nearly every day for a month in a row. He was persistent, kind of like a mosquito, but you figured you were being too picky and needed to expand your horizons a bit. Maybe you would learn more about him and actually have a good time.

Not so much.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his brows knit together when you had ordered the fettuccine alfredo. The restaurant’s menu was pretty limited, and you didn’t recognize most of the items. This place was just too fancy for your comfort. You had wanted to call the waiter back to the table and change your order to a cheeseburger, just to embarrass him further.

As Liam droned on about how his father had taught him how to manage his finances, you let your mind wander to last weekend. You had gone out with your friends, Benny and Will, a pair of brothers who were each other’s polar opposites, yet they had a bond that was stronger than any other siblings you had ever met.

You were already well acquainted with their other friends, Santiago and Frankie, affectionately known as Pope and Catfish. Pope had a magnetic personality– he commanded the room without meaning to, sometimes to the detriment of others around him, who were trying to get a word in edgewise.

Frankie was complicated. He was quiet, a little rough around the edges, and a little gruff, but so soft at the same time. His eyes gave way to a deeply settled kind of hurt. They had drawn you in almost right away. It only took one glance at his smile, brilliant and boyish, with a hint of a dimple gracing his cheek, before you were hooked.

You had only known him for a few months now and only saw him when the guys got together, but you couldn’t deny the desire that clutched at your stomach whenever his deep brown eyes met yours.

You heard your date call your name, snapping you out of your daydream.

“You ready for part two of the best date ever?” Liam asked. His smirk was all wrong. It wasn’t soft or playful. It was polished and practiced. He reminded you too much of Patrick Bateman.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, pasting a smile onto your face, inwardly wincing at how fake it was. You could not wait to go home and put on your sweatpants.

Shit. Holy shit.

He was taking you on a helicopter tour. The same company that Catfish worked for. Your stomach was in knots, threatening an unwelcome return of the alfredo you had for lunch.

Maybe he’s not working today, maybe we’ll get a different pil–

Of course you had no such luck. The guide ushered you both over towards the launching pad, where Frankie stood, wearing a tan flight suit. His hair was tousled, likely from being up in the air for most of the day and he had a pair of aviators on. He looked delectable.

His eyebrows shot up in recognition. He cocked his head to the side, glancing at your date, then back at you, a grimace set on his face.

Frankie schooled his expression and walked up and gave you a side hug, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Good to see you,” he said, giving you a small grin.

“You two know each other?” Liam asked, his eyes shifting between the two of you.

“Oh, yes, Liam– this is Frankie. He’s one of my friends.”

Friends.

“Nice to meet you, Liam,” Frankie said, shaking his hand politely.

Liam gave Frankie one of his wide, practiced grins. “Likewise.”

You could have sworn you saw Liam wince a little during the handshake, but you chalked it up to pre-flight jitters. Liam slung an arm around your shoulder possessively and chuckled.

“Excited to show this pretty lady some pretty sights.” His fingers curled into your shoulder, a little too hard, and he jostled you a little, trying to come off as a cute gesture. It had you feeling like a rag doll.

The smile you gave him must have been pretty forced, because Frankie coughed, interrupting the moment.

“All right, folks. Ready to get going?”

You nodded, feeling a fluttering in your belly. Despite not wanting to be stuck in a helicopter with Liam, you were excited to finally see Frankie in action.

Frankie handed you both a pair of headsets and instructed you to buckle up. Before climbing in himself, he checked Liam’s belt, tightening it a little and then came over to your side, adjusting your belt as well. You risked a peek at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“All set,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile.

Before you knew it, Frankie was in the pilot’s seat and the helicopter roared to life. The blades were whirring above your heads, making your hair whip around your face. You tucked the sides of your dress under your legs, silently cursing Liam for not warning you of this afternoon’s non-dress appropriate activity.

The swoop you felt in your stomach was unlike anything you had felt before, more intense than a commercial flight. You tried not to fidget, knowing you were in good hands with Frankie piloting, but fuck, were you already high up, and only climbing higher by the second.

You briefly wondered how high up you were now, how high up Frankie had ever flown. You planned on asking him once you were all safely back on the ground.

A large gust of wind made its way into the helicopter, forcing a shiver down your spine, goosebumps rising on your woefully unprotected arms.

“You cold, sweetie?” Liam asked. “I would give you my jacket but I need it to stay warm. You should have planned better, gorgeous.”

You instantly clenched your teeth, wishing murder was legal at this very moment.

“Well, Liam, I would have brought a jacket if you had told me we were coming here,” you said, voice dripping with a sarcastic, syrupy sweet tone.

“I have a jacket in the compartment in front of you,” Frankie said, glancing over quickly. “Go ahead and put it on.”

You obliged, opening the compartment and bundling up in the oversized jacket, instantly feeling better once the corduroy material covered your arms. You wrapped it around your torso and took a deep breath, hiding your grin in the sherpa collar. It smelled like him.

“Thank you, ‘Fish,” you said softly. He didn’t respond, but you saw his dimple appear out of the corner of your eye.

“All good back there?” You heard Frankie’s voice in your ears. You looked over to him, only catching a glimpse of his hands and the side of his face, partially obscured by his headset and his baseball cap.

“Doing fan-tas-tic, Frank,” Liam whooped. You couldn’t help but wince at how loud his voice was, and how he intentionally pronounced Frankie’s name incorrectly.

“Great,” Frankie sounded unamused.

You huffed, annoyed at your date’s bad manners and looked out the window. Terrible date aside, you had to admit the bay from above was absolutely gorgeous. You looked down at the ocean, so expansive and eternally blue. Your eyes skimmed over to where water met land, at the soft sand on the beach, turning into a thick forest.

“Frankie, it’s beautiful,” you gasped.

You looked over at him briefly, seeing a hint of a smile on his face.

Liam was momentarily forgotten, until his hand snaked its way onto your thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Instinctually, you moved your leg at the unwanted contact. Liam looked over at you, an ugly scowl marring his face.

“Careful with the turns in this thing,” he said, addressing Frankie. “Our girl here ate about 15 pounds of pasta before this.”

You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. They streaked down into your hairline from the force of the wind around you. You had already realized Liam was a bit of a douche, but you hadn’t thought him to be cruel.

“The only thing we have to worry about bringing this thing down is that big head of yours,” Frankie quipped back.

Biting back a laugh, you looked out the window so Liam wouldn’t see your reaction.

You could tell Liam wanted to argue back, but he stayed quiet, since the man he wanted to lash out at was responsible for keeping you all alive at the moment.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, other than the persistent chopping of the helicopter blades. The views were beautiful, but you found your eyes wandering back over to Frankie every few minutes. The tanned skin of his hands as he deftly worked at the throttle. Every time he pulled on a control you saw the veins in his forearms strain with the movement. You wondered what else those hands could do.

Before you knew it, the bird touched down and you unbuckled your seatbelt, removing the tight headset from your ears. You had a slight headache and you could tell getting down was going to be a struggle.

Frankie seemed to have no issue, jumping out of his seat with grace and walking over to your side to help you down. Your legs were shaking, so you stumbled as your feet hit the ground, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

“I– oof, sorry,” you laughed nervously, rubbing your nose. You had bumped into his chest nearly smashing your face into his sternum. Frankie bit his lip and chuckled in response, squeezing your waist. You felt dizzy with his arms caging you in like this. It gave you an overwhelming desire to wrap yourself around him, to feel him pressed against you.

“It’s okay, I got you.” His voice rumbled in your ear, absolutely sending your senses on a tailspin. His strong, quiet voice was doing something magical to your already weak knees.

You stepped away before you fell over, remembering your date after a moment. He was about ten feet away, arms crossed, his face pinched in an angry expression.

“I don’t think this is working out,” he said as you walked over to him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, giving him a sickly sweet grin. “I’ll find another ride home.”

Liam scoffed and made his way back into the tour center to grab his belongings. You instantly felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Thank God he left.

“So, why did you go out with that asshole, anyways?” Frankie asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

You sighed, feeling embarrassed.

“I honestly don’t know. He wouldn’t leave me alone so I decided to give him a shot.”

“I can’t say I blame him for being persistent, but seriously, fuck that guy.”

You huffed a laugh.

“Seriously, when he made that comment about what you ate for lunch I wanted to throw him right out of the helicopter.”

You bit your lip and sniffed, feeling the embarrassment wash over you at the memory.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” your voice was small and you rubbed at your arms nervously.

Frankie had a hard, angry look on his face. It made you feel a little giddy, that he was so angry on your behalf.

“He should have never talked to you that way. He’s lucky you agreed to go out with his sorry ass.”

“You’re right. And God, I can’t believe he took me here, of all places,” you laughed. This really was surreal.

“Feels kind of like fate, huh?” He said, giving you a boyish grin.

“How so?”

“Well,” he stepped towards you, arms sliding up the material of his jacket. “I’ve always wanted to see you in this jacket.” His gaze made its way down your figure. His eyes were dark as he swallowed heavily.

“And I’ve always wanted to go on a date with you, though not while you’re on one with another man.” The smile he gave you was shy, searching, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d react.

“Well, I won’t be making that mistake again,” you replied, stepping closer.

Your tongue came out to wet your lips and Frankie watched with rapture.

“I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s okay.” His mouth was an inch from yours, and his large, calloused hands cradled your face gently.

“Please, Frankie,” you sighed.

His lips were soft, despite the bruising urgency in his actions. Your hands immediately tangled into his hair, knocking the cap off his head. You melted against him and licked his bottom lip, asking for permission. He immediately complied, licking into your mouth. Your tongues found a delicious rhythm, tangling together. You moaned into his mouth, spurring him on further. His hips pressed into yours. You could feel how hard he was, even through his flight suit.

“Fuck, baby” he rasped, pulling away. His chest was heaving, breath ragged from your kiss. “The things I want to do to you.”

You slanted your hips back into his, pressing into his erection. “Then do them.”

Frankie bit his lip and groaned, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re absolutely perfect for me, you know that?”

You grinned, leaning forward to capture his lips again.

“I want to do this right, though,” he said. “I’m going to take you out on a better date. Show you how first dates should go. And then I’m going to take you home and show you how much I’ve wanted you for months.”

You felt as if your heart had stopped momentarily.

“That sounds perfect to me,” you said, kissing him again.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #tw food mention

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separatist-apologist · 3 years

Text

Part 7

I'm considering our little serial to be completed with this chapter. Thank you @forestwitch7 for the prompts, I enjoyed writing them. I was thinking we could continue our serials with a new prompt, and my asks are open if you want to see something that could be extended over the course of a week or longer. I do have a jealous Elain prompt (non-smutty) and a jealous Lucien prompt (smutty) that I want to complete, so if you're hoping to see either of those things, they are in the works.

As per usual, this is NSFW, 18+, edited with my eyes closed, and more soft than teasing. It's also the longest chapter thus far (as warning). These two dorks can't help themselves.

Elain was nervous when Lucien stepped into the River House, a stack of paperwork tucked beneath his arm. His eyes slid through the room, surveying the occupants without betraying his emotions. If he cared she sat there, needlework abandoned in her lap, he didn’t say. Rhysand met him just outside the hall and gestured for Lucien to follow. He left without a backwards glance. Starfall had happened weeks ago and though they’d had a nice night, he’d left the next day and hadn’t said a word since. She felt nervous and, if she was honest, a little hurt. It had been her first time being intimate with a man that way and she supposed she’d hoped he might…call on her that next day.

Take her on a real date. She’d fretted over his silence to the point of anxiety and now that he was back, she couldn’t untangle what it meant. Had he come to see her or for some urgent political matter that could not wait? Elain turned her thoughts over and over in her head until she was a mess. Feyre joined her, Mor at her side, the two unaware of Elain’s inner turmoil as they drank tea and discussed the previous evening at Ritas. Elain listened absently, letting herself tune out her own thoughts in favor of their excited gossiping.

“Elain?” Lucien’s voice cut through the chatter just as the sun began to set. All three women silenced, their eyes locked on his face. Besides Solstice, had anyone ever seen the two of them friendly in the same space? Judging from the surprise on both Mor and Feyre’s faces, Elain guessed not.

“Do you want to get dinner?” He asked smoothly, arms crossed over his hunter green jacket. His expression was almost a dare. Say no. Reject me in front of your family.

“Yes,” she replied, too breathless. No one in that room believed this was the first time he’d asked her to spend time with him after hearing her response. If there was any doubt, Elain knew she squashed it when she stood quickly, tossed her needlepoint onto the chair behind her, and walked confidently towards him. Lucien was smiling with such open affection it made her heart flutter.

She waited until they were out of the River House and walking down dark, paved streets before she asked, “Are we really getting dinner?”

“I do plan to eat,” he replied, causing her to flush. “Sorry I was gone for so long. There was a disturbance…but I thought I’d show you something.”

“Oh?” She asked, her heart pounding a near painful beat in her chest. Lucien only smiled, both eyes focused straight ahead.

He stopped her in front of a pretty brick building half covered in inching, leafy vines. Lucien pulled a silver key from his pocket, slid it into the door, and gestured for him to follow her. The interior was beige and housed two doors on either side of the walls, with a staircase leading up. Lucien walked her up two flights of stairs to the third floor and opened the door with a shiny number 7 hanging just above a peephole.

“I have an apartment in the city,” he told her with a wink, pressing a spare key into her hands. “I should have told you about it ages ago.”

“That’s okay,” she swore breathlessly, stepping inside. She wondered if Lucien had decorated it or if it came furnished. She supposed it musthave been him, given the rich oranges, browns, reds and yellows that stared back at her. It was very much an Autumn pallet, bright and lovely and put together by someone with an eye for art and fashion.

“You can come even if I’m not in the city,” he continued, walking her through the living room and down a hall where his bedroom lay. “If you ever need to get away…or you miss me.”

He said that last part like a joke. She opened her mouth to inform him she missed him all the time but got tripped up when her eyes fell on a huge, four poster bed hung with sheer white curtains. A bed. On the floor were dozens of fat red pillar candles and with a snap of his fingers, each sprang to life.

“You’ll get wax on the wood,” she whispered, frozen in the doorway.

“A small price to pay,” he shrugged, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You can say no, you know. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Elain nodded, her mind forcing her to compare the scene before her with her only other experience. The room had been dark and cold, sparsely decorated and entirely masculine. She’d just assumed that was the height of romance in the moment but even though Lucien’s room, too, was masculine, he’d softened it considerably with the candles and the draped curtains. Even the blankets were a soft brown with a cream-colored throw tossed over a corner, making his bedroom feel warm and inviting. She looked over her shoulder at him, unsurprised by the flame burning in that russet-colored eye. His gold eye was wholly fixed on her face, and she wondered if he could see past her flesh.

And though there had never been a choice in whether they would be together, hearing him tell her she could say no if she wanted, that he wasn’t in a hurry, did something to her. He made her feel seen, feel special.

Loved, even, though she was too afraid to admit that was what was happening out loud. What had started as her attempt to get Azriel’s attention, to distract herself from her own boredom, had become much, much more. She almost laughed at how different things were, how important Lucien had become to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck instead and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

“I want it to be tonight,” she told him softly, her lips touching his as she spoke. Lucien smiled, his skin practically glowing.

“Good,” he replied, hoisting her off her feet and into his arms. “Because I’m tired of waiting.”

Lucien dropped her to his bed, climbing onto the mattress with her. Elain yanked down his neatly made blankets as Lucien shucked off his shoes, jacket, and shirt. Her fingers moved towards the buttons at the back of her gown but he stopped her.

“Let me,” he asked, his voice rough with desire. She nodded, nervous and excited, shivering when his hair brushed over her collarbone and his fingers slid down her spine, quickly undoing the buttons of her dress. She watched, eyes wide, as he slid the sleeves slowly down her arms, the skin of his hands rough against her own.

Lucien leaned back, shirtless and gleaming beneath the flickering candlelight, eyes reverent. “You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to brush her cheek. The way he looked at her and the way she spoke the words made her feel as though her value to him was not just her beauty.

“No, you,” she replied, pleased when a flush stained his golden cheeks. He smiled, charmingly embarrassed by the compliment, before going back to her under garments. She let him fully expose her, resisting the urge to cover herself with her hands as she looked at her again, his jaw slack and eyes wide just as he’d been when she’d come out on Starfall. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. She wanted to tease him but something about his expression made her stop. Instead she settled back against the fluffy pillows on his bed and gestured for him to come to her.

He did without hesitation, his lips slotting between her own quickly. He poured all his unspoken words in the kiss as he settled between her body. She wanted to tell him, wanted to say the words but she was afraid she’d break the spell.

So she poured back. I love you. Don’t leave me again. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Lucien’s hips ground against her, proof of his want and Elain gasped as memory of his cock in her mouth flooded back. He was so very large, much bigger than Graysen had been. Would it hurt, she wondered, running her nails down his back.

“I can feel your thoughts,” Lucien gasped, nipping down the side of her neck. “I won’t hurt you.”

She frowned. Had he felt everything? “Yes,” he replied again, smiling against her skin. His fingers tweaked against her nipples, the sensation hooking roughly in her gut. He looked up, his face resting in valley between her breasts, his eyes impossibly soft. “I love you too, you know.”

She started to say it back, a giggle bubbling in her throat, but Lucien’s mouth clamped over one over sensitive nipple, and nothing felt funny anymore. Desire coursed through her veins, taking over her body just like the day he’d taken her in the garden. She felt needier now, desperate in a way she hadn’t then.

He surged forward again, kissing her hotly, his tongue messy against her own. It was a prelude to what he planned to do between her legs, and she wished he’d stop teasing her and get on with it. She was way too shy to just ask and when he broke the kiss, she whined, pushing his head down her body.

Lucien chuckled darkly, his breath warm on her cool skin. “Say please,” he whispered, rubbing the flesh of her thighs just close enough to the crease of her center without actually touching her. She lifted her hips and wondered if he’d deny her if she didn’t do as he asked.

“Please,” she begged, delighted at the groan that slipped from his throat.

“Embarrassing,” she teased, squirming against his fingers.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it, sweetheart,” Lucien crooned, lowering his mouth to her body. She squealed, delighted by both the nick name and how willing Lucien was to play along. Her thoughts vacated at that first swipe of his tongue, dragging her back to that place of limitless burning heat. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, his hair spread over his broad, muscular shoulders, one hand pressed against her lower abdomen to keep her pinned to the bed. His eyes were closed, the expression on the part of his face she could see utterly lost, as though he were experiencing some form of nirvana just by touching her. She could see his hips grinding against the bed in time with her own and she wished he wasn’t wearing pants. She wanted to see him fully undressed.

She felt electric beneath his touch, building up, up, upbefore she shattered around him with a scream and a fistful of his hair, forcing him to stay clamped between her trembling thighs. He didn’t stop, his tongue sweeping over her in quick, efficient circles until she was sobbing mess. She tugged and he came, his mouth covering hers with an intensity that excited her. She hooked her fingers in the waist of his pants and tugged.

“Impatient,” he tried to tease but the word was more groan. She watched him roll over and stand quickly to shuck off his pants.

“Wait!” She cried, drinking in the hard, naked, muscular body standing in front of her. Lucien shifted his weight from one foot the other other, his cock twitching beneath her gaze.

“Now who is beautiful?” She asked while he crawled back to her.

“Still you,” he promised, kissing her gently. She hesitated when she felt the crown of his cock notch against her entrance.

“Go slow,” she murmured. Though his expression seemed pained, Lucien nodded, his hair creating a curtain between the pair of them. She could pretend they were in their own little world where no one but them existed.

She sighed when he slid that first inch in, her body stretching but not in a painful way. It was pleasant and comfortable and by the time he was fully seated inside her, Elain regretted asking him to go slow. Lucien seemed to be strained above her, his body weight braced on his elbows beside her.

“Are you okay?” He gasped and she nodded, leaning up just enough to kiss him.

“You can move,” she told him with what she hoped was a sweet and not deranged smile. Lucien nodded, sliding himself out too slowly for her liking, grunting as he came back in. She let him for a moment, worried that perhaps he needed to prove to himself he wouldn’t hurt her, before she hooked her legs around him and drove her heels into his ass, forcing him to snap into her hard.

“Oh,” she gasped at the same time he did. “Again.”

Whatever leash Lucien held himself with vanished and Lucien thrust hard, the sound of their flesh meeting punctuating the silence around them. She was building again, writhing beneath him, doubly so when his hand snaked between them to rub quick circles over her already swollen clit. She was panting, begging.

“Harder,” she heard her voice plead, half stunned at the sound. “Don’t stop, Lucien, please.”

Lucien grunted again, sweat dripping down his back. “So fucking wet,” he groaned, the sound more animal than man. “So tight. Fuck, Elain—”

His words were drowned by the sound of her scream, so loud she was sure his entire building heard it. Lucien didn’t stop though the snarl that erupted from his throat made her shudder even as blinding white pleasure stole her last little sense of self. She was an extension of him and he the other half to her. Connected, Elain felt as though life suddenly made sense.

“Again,” Lucien demanded, somehow increasing his speed, pounding into her with an intensity that threatened to drive her mad. She was whimpering, her whole body overly sensitive beneath his hands. She moaned at the feel of one of his hands palming her breast, tweaking her nipples before gliding back to the quivering nub of flesh at her apex. “Again.”

And whatever it was that existed between them, the bond or their connected souls, made her desperately want to please him. She bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood, her hips unable to keep up with the pace he’d set, her thighs still trembling from her last release. He didn’t let up, even in the wake of her pleas.

“Please, Lucien. Lucien, Luci—” Her climax was edged with pain, the scream hoarse. Lucien growled with pleasure, pumping once, twice, and then once more before he held himself over her, groaning loudly with his own release. She could hardly catch her breath, her vision spotted, her body utterly wrung out when he collapsed atop her, head buried in the crook of her neck.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, kissing along her jaw.

“No,” she whispered, her words threatening to turn to hysterical laughter. “You were perfect.”

His teeth tugged along her ear and though she was exhausted, more arousal speared through her.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, withdrawing himself from her body. She frowned, mewling with protest. Lucien merely smiled as he clambered from the bed, padded across the room, and returned with a warm rag to wipe her up with.

Elain propped herself up on her elbows to look at his flagging erection, his beautiful body, his absurdly lovely face. “I love you,” she said, tasting the words as she said them. Lucien beamed, seeming as though he were lit with some inner light only she could see. He tossed the rag back into the bathroom before joining her in the bed again. He dragged the blankets over them, cuddling her into his arms.

She smiled when he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, sweetheart. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” She admitted, snuggling closer into his chest. “But it can wait.”

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” “You,” she said without hesitation. “With me, all the time.”

His thumb stroked over her cheek. “Consider it done.”

#elucien fic #elucien prompt #elucien smut #elucien #elain x lucien #@forestwitch7 #seven whole parts can you beleive???#i had a great time

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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Holiday Spirit

Masterlist

Pairing: dom!Wanda Maximoff x sub!fem!reader

Summary: Wanda decides to make an ordinary day in December very special for you.

Warnings: smut 18+ ONLY (daddy kink sorry top followers, dirty talk, choking, spanking, oral, penetration, sex toy use)

A/N: there are like...two seconds of plot in this lmao. also I didn’t edit this because I just finished and wanted to post it before I got busy again. so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t

For the first Saturday in a very long time, you and Wanda were playing the role of a ‘normal couple’.

There were no missions for her to be whisked away on, and you were off work for the next few days. You were tucked away within the soundproof walls of your apartment under a blanket on the couch, far away from the nosy eyes and ears of Wanda’s superhero family. Lit candles scented the air with vanilla that blended with the aroma of the cookies Wanda baked earlier, and the gentle snowflakes that passed the windows behind the Christmas movie on the television only further set the scene.

“Can you pass me another cookie, baby?” Wanda chuckled when you held it to her lips without breaking away from the screen, taking it from you with the hand that wasn’t holding onto your hip. “Thank you.”

She kissed your head lightly before turning her own, not wanting to drop any stray crumbs into your hair. If there was one thing she loved, it was having the time to hold you against her for longer than a few minutes before she fell asleep, and she refused to let you go until she was forced to do so.

“Are we getting old or something?” you suddenly questioned, and if Wanda was still eating, she would’ve choked.

“What?!”

“We never watch anything this wholesome and sappy, so I just assumed this is our transition into wrinkles and knee pain.”

Your girlfriend covered her face with a laugh. “Baby, it’s the fourth day of December. Where is your holiday spirit?”

“Right here.”

You turned your head briefly to show off a cheesy grin as you pulled her arm further around you. Despite the exaggerated theatrics of the film, you were enjoying the plot of it, and you’d come to enjoy it even more as the scene changed. The two main characters were suddenly stumbling into bed as clothes were ripped away, and you usually didn’t get riled up during sex scenes in a movie, but you definitely felt something this time.

You were suddenly aware of how long it’d been since you and Wanda had been tangled together in such an intimate way, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly your need for release began to build. Despite your best efforts to hide it, there was no going back once your hips wiggled back an inch or two to rub your ass against Wanda’s core.

Wanda could tell before you that the scene was affecting you from the moment your muscles tensed against her, and she was more than ready to play by the time your body pushed against hers. She was subtle at first, a hand slipped under your long sleeved shirt and innocently resting on your bare stomach, slowly transitioning to the more obvious approach of trailing kisses from the tip of your ear to your clavicle while you squirmed.

She slipped her right leg between yours with ease, tensing her thigh and brushing it back and forth against your clothed center in a way that had you thrusting in time with her movements within seconds. Your eyes fluttered closed and your hand slipped into her hair, little whimpers escaping you as her soft pecks turned into sucking the skin of your neck between her lips.

“You seem like you need something, baby.”

Her deepened tone came directly behind your ear and you shivered, biting your lip as you continued to rub against her thigh. You were just about to speed up to chase your release when she stopped moving, pressing her hand into your stomach to keep you from moving as you faced her with a whine.

“Did you forget how to use your words, princess?”

“No, Wanda.” Her brow raised and your eyes widened as you corrected yourself. “No, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” She pulled her hand away from your stomach to pull the blanket away. “Go strip down and wait on the bed.”

You scrambled to your feet and down the hall as the sounds of the scene that started everything faded into the background. Articles of clothing hit the carpet as you moved at the speed of lightning to follow her order, sitting on the edge of the bed with your hands folded when you finished. You could hear her turning off the movie, blowing out candles and cleaning the rest of the mess, and her prolonging only made you more desperate for her touch.

Eventually her footsteps grew louder as she approached, and you tried to be good and still as she entered the room. Her casual smile grew wider at the sight of you waiting patiently, and you looked up at her sweetly as she stood in front of you, cradling your cheeks in her hands.

“You’re so good for me.”

Her voice passed her lips in a husky tone that had your thighs squeezing together, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her at all. Her smirk was pressed to your skin while she kissed along your jaw, leaning down to part your thighs to step between them.

“How do you want me to fuck you first? Mouth or fingers?” she questioned lowly, occasionally nipping at your skin between her words, and your own got caught in your throat. “If I have to ask again, you won’t get anything.”

“Mouth please, Daddy,” you finally choked out, bucking your hips forward when her wandering hands brushed past your clit.

“On your hands and knees.”

You turned over and positioned yourself as she instructed, biting back a moan when she slapped your ass before gripping onto both cheeks firmly. A dark chuckle escaped her as she lowered herself to your soaked core, watching the muscles clench around nothing as you waited to be touched. You were just about to beg when she dove in without warning.

You shuddered and moaned when she licked a long stripe from your clit to your hole, crying out when she dipped her tongue in for a moment before bringing her attention back to your clit. Her lips surrounded it as she licked and sucked, quickly bringing you to the edge while you moaned and begged her not to stop.

She held your shaking form up by your waist as she lapped up your juices with her tongue, swallowing briefly before pushing her tongue back into your hole as her thumb began circling around your clit. You gripped the sheets as she began to tongue fuck you, the combination of the two motions making you cum even faster than the last time.

“Fuck,” you cried out when you were able to breathe properly again, yelping when her hand smacked your other ass cheek.

“Such a dirty mouth, princess,” she teased you as her hand landed on your stinging skin again and you whimpered. “Scoot up toward the middle.”

You moved forward on the bed, knowing she was up to something when you heard her digging into her overnight bag. She climbed onto the bed behind you a minute later, and the fabric of her sweatpants brushed against your naked calves. Before you could get a word out, a ribbed length was slowly pushed into you, and you were a shuddering mess all over again.

Wanda thrusted into you slowly, her hands sliding from your hips to your arms and pulling them until your bare back was pressed against her sweater, and you moaned at the feeling of being so exposed while she’d only taken off her rings. She let go of your arms to wrap one of hers around you, her free hand closing around your throat as she began pounding into you.

Your moans echoed around the room as you gave into the absolute railing she gave you, holding onto her arm for stability and sanity as her strap rubbed against your walls at an unforgiving pace. Sounds of pleasure caught in your throat and your eyes rolled back as her fingers squeezed, affecting your airflow just enough to drive you crazy. As if she hadn’t done that enough already.

“You gonna cum for Daddy?” she inquired as she pulled you a bit closer, and you nodded while struggling to function with the building pressure in your core. “Be a good girl and let go.”

Your orgasm hit you as suddenly as if she pressed a button to make it happen, strangled noises resembling sobs escaping you as she continued to thrust into your sensitive hole as your legs seemed to transform into jelly.

“I know you can cum again, princess. You’re taking it so well, keep going.”

You whimpered out your best attempt at a response, squeezing her arm to let her know your brain was still somewhat working as she brought you to another peak. She slowed down this time, shifting the hand around your throat to run her fingers around your nipple. You gasped and moaned as she kissed your neck while you came down, muscles relaxing as she moved her arm and allowed you to fall onto the mattress.

The toy dripped onto your legs and the sheets as she leaned over, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. She wrapped one hand around your ankle, guiding your leg up as she rested it on her shoulder, and a devilish grin appeared on her lips as she pushed into you again. You were free to moan as loudly as you wanted this time, and you took full advantage of it as she worked her way back up to forcefully drilling the ribbed length into you again, a few curse words mixing in with the nearly pornographic sounds.

“You’re using that pretty mouth all wrong, princess.”

She slid her middle and ring fingers into your mouth before you could respond, and you happily closed your lips around the digits as your tongue rubbed against her skin.

“There you go, sweet girl.”

You sucked harder as she kept pounding into you, nearly biting down as you reached your fifth climax and opening your lips to whine a bit when she continued.

“I’m gonna make you cum again because I know I can. Isn’t that right, princess?” You closed your eyes and she shook her head, pulling her wet fingers away and moving to rub them across your clit instead. “What did I say about using your fucking words?”

“Yes, Daddy!” you managed to cry out between loud moans, a few more calls of her name blending into incoherent sounds as stars filled your vision and welcomed you to a new high.

Wanda slows her pace as she works you through your orgasm, coaxing you gently to breathe as you shake in her hold and rubbing soft circles into your thigh as she lowers your leg from her shoulder. A cross between a groan and a sigh leaves your lips as the toy drags against your walls and pulls away, and you watch as Wanda’s blurry form unbuckles it from her waist and tosses it aside.

“Still in there, baby?” She chuckles as you nod tiredly. “Okay, stay here and I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the bathroom and the sound of running water followed her exit, continuing as she came back to help you into the bathroom. You watched as she gently washed you once you were in the tub, a sleepy smile shaping your lips as you met her gaze.

“Can we have peppermint cocoa after this?”

“Thought you weren’t in the holiday mood?” she teased, and you let your eyes fully close as you laughed.

“The movie wasn’t so bad after all.”

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @creepingwolfberry

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #avengers #the avengers #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine #avengers fanfic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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mctherofdragons · 4 years

Text

Against the Tides | 5 | F. W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate!AU; Muggle!AU; Historical!AU

Summary: The year is 1710. The Duchess is kidnapped by Captain Fred Weasley, the most notorious and blood thirsty pirate of the age. Aboard his ship, The Midnight Rose, love, lust, and longing collide on the high seas.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, fred is a pirate for god’s sake don’t come for me, kissing, gets a little steamy but no sex, physical illness (not serious), yelling, fred grabs her arm, crying, angry fred, captivity, alludes to trauma, self harm, i didn’t edit this, again he’s a fucking pirate don’t send me hate thanks.

A/N: Thank you all so much for waiting for me during my little break! I had so much to sort through in my own mind and heart. I am feeling much better and I’m grateful you were all so supportive of me during that time. This chapter is not very long, and serves as more of a ‘filler’ but none the less I hope you all enjoy it. I’m so excited to continue this story <3 I love it so dearly!

I do not consent for my work to be published or translated anywhere without my permission.

Series Masterlist.

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @minty-malfoy @slytherinlovesgryffindor @futureofanthropology @inglourious-imagines @sinz-and-tragediez @acourtofsnakes @vivianweasley @n3ssm0nique @cruciostyles @whizboingies @shadowsinger11 @whitewineandpizzapuffs @gcdric @the–queen-of-hell @gloryekaterina @hogwartslut @theanxietyqueen17 @vogueweasley @blossomweasley @asthmax @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleytwinsgirl @tyyyweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @wandsandwheezes @loony-loopy-lupinn @missmercurymoon @willowyreads @l-adysansa @arcadianmoonlight @weasley-x-wheezes @lumosandnoxwriting @darthwheezely please message me to be added/removed from my taglist).

______________________

It had been days now since you shared your first kiss with the captain. It was new to you - the way his lips felt when they brushed yours, sending chills down your spine. The feeling of his kisses caused your heart to flutter in your chest. You had allowed Captain Weasley to steal kisses as much as possible, delighting in the way he would come to you just for a few moments of restless kissing. Captain Weasley found solace in the sweet and pure moments you spent with him. You would giggle when his hands found their way to your hips. Your chastity was something newfound for him. It reminded him of the innocence that had long been taken from him.

Fred had taken quickly to doting on you. The crew took notice as well, pretending not to recognize the way he had been going easier on you. His eyes would soften when he saw you, losing their usual shade of darkness.

“Hello, treasure,” He would greet, pulling you away from the eyes of the crew. He would go in for a soft and longing kiss. Your back was often pressed against the damp walls of the ship. Sometimes, his rough hand would wander up to place a thumb on your cheek with the other fingers behind your ear, pulling the kiss deeper than before. You had allowed Fred to play with the soft fabric atop your breasts, but never much more. He savored those touches regardless, due to the way they’d let his mind wander to what it would be like to make love to you.

_________

The days passed by slowly. Eventually, you stopped questioning the Captain about how far you were from home. In fact, you had begun to wish somewhere deep inside of you that maybe he would never return you. The truth of the matter was that Captain Weasley knew exactly where the ship was. He would have been able to get you home in just a few days’ time. But the thought of saying goodbye to you cut him to the quick, and so, he purposely steered the ship in the opposite direction. He felt only a small amount of guilt for deceiving you. After all, the joy and warmth you brought him was a small sacrifice for a lie.

The Captain had even surprised you with a chest of books when you stopped at another port. He had gestured to the chest absentmindedly as he read a map, only glancing up when he heard you gasp. You had torn through the chest, pulling out all of your favorite books. “Oh Captain! You shouldn’t have. Where did you get these?”

“Some poor bastard left his cart unattended. Anyway, you said you were lonely, and that you missed readin’.”

You dropped a copy of Romeo and Juliet as you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dropped his compass, letting you straddle each side of him. You kissed him softly and he leaned back in his seat. Fred moved to plant soft kisses behind your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“That feels good, eh, Duchess?”

He kissed your sweet spot again, letting the smell of rum fill your senses. You felt an unfamiliar flush rush between your legs and you climbed off him quickly, straightening your dress out with both hands.

“It’s not proper.”

“It isn’t anything to be ashamed of, Duchess.”

“It simply isn’t done, Captain. I’m betrothed.”

“I know.”

He turned away quickly, going back to focusing on what he had been doing before. You looked up at him as you grabbed a book, going to sit comfortably in his hammock. You were chewing your lip, deep into the story, unable to notice the way he looked at you without you noticing.

You turned a page of your book, closing it, before setting it on your lap. You fixed your dress again, cocking your head as you began to spoke. “Why are you being so kind to me, Captain Weasley? Letting me sleep here? Stealing books for me?”

“Pretty to look at,” he said, a small laugh coming from somewhere deep inside of him as he took a swig of rum. His eyes raked over you and you felt your skin flush scarlet, going back to burying your face into the pages of Shakepeare’s Othello.

__________________

You were laying in his bed, listening to the sound of his breathing. He sounded a bit stuffy, if you were honest, and it worried you. When his eyes opened, he let out a small groan, reaching up to place a tattooed hand on his head.

“You sound ill, Captain,” you noted, placing the back of your soft and petite hand on his forehead. “Thank heavens. No fever.”

“I’m not ill,” he grumbled, going to stand up quickly but shortly landing back to sitting on the bed. Fred put his hand on his head again, shutting his eyes tightly as his ears rang and his head pounded. You cooed, crawling over closer to him. You looked over his shoulder as you placed your hand on his bicep.

“Lay back down, please, and let me make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, Duchess…”

Perhaps it was his recent kind gestures, but you were no longer afraid of the Captain like you were before. Fred’s soft side had become more apparent. Sometimes, you even forgot he was your captor, enjoying being in his company. You pouted a bit and he cracked the smallest smile. “Y/n, it is mighty kind that you want to baby me, but I’ll be fine.”

There was a small rap on the door and you blushed, getting out of his bed before any of the crew got wild ideas about what you were doing there in the first place. You busied yourself with straightening up his desk.

“Come in,” Fred said, going to grab his boots but becoming wobbly on his feet. He let out a loud sneeze, shocking even himself. You looked at him, giving him a knowing gaze.

The door opened and Lee Jordan entered, tipping his hat to you. Fred glanced at you, and then back at his first mate.

“Jordan, why don’t you take over my duties for today? I’m not well.”

The Captain had caved and it took everything in you to not rejoice in triumph. Lee looked surprised but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Don’t let this ship go under or I’ll have your skin, Jordan.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now, get out.”

You smiled, leaning down to light the fire under Fred’s kettle. You poured him a hot cup of tea, bringing it over to where he was sitting in bed. He coughed a bit, taking a small sip of tea.

“You must have gotten a cold from being damp and freezing.”

Fred had been out in the cold the night before, barking demands at the men as they went through another tempest. He had come back to his cabin soaking wet, shivering from the cool temperatures.

You curled up next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?”

Captain Weasley hesitated before he spoke again. “...Yes.”

You looked at him, watching his eyes flutter shut slightly. “Tell me your story, Captain.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one with your head in a book.”

Fred closed his eyes. In his mind, he could feel the comfort of his childhood bedroom. As clear as day, he swore he could hear Ginny’s little giggle out in the sitting room. He and George were running around the room, playing with the wooden swords Arthur had carved for them - a special Christmas present. They would play pirates, unbeknownst of the irony in their childhood joys. In the same vision, he saw George’s body again, cold and lifeless on the ground.

He tore his eyes open, staring up at the maroon canopy above him.

“Not a story, Captain, your story.”

“I don’t have a story, Duchess. Please, leave it be.”

“Everyone has a story. Even you.”

You poked his chest playfully, playing with the top button of his shirt.

He reached up, moving your hand off of him. “Stop.”

You sat up, clearly not used to being told ‘no’. Of course, as a Duchess, what you wanted was always given to you. It was a discomfort to be denied something you desired - even something seemingly silly.

“Freddie-”

At the sound of the nickname, Fred felt his entire body tense up. It was the last thing his mother had said when she closed him inside of the wardrobe, never to return to him again. Hearing another person call him that sent fear through his entire being. He was afraid to get close to you because he knew the deep-seated truth that you were only his for a fleeting moment.

The happiness once existent faded from his eyes and he quickly rose from his bed, pulling you out by your arm. He would push you away before you got any closer to him. Fred knew he couldn’t protect his mother from the monsters. But now, he was the phantom, and he was determined to keep you guarded.

“I’m done playing this silly game with you, Duchess.”

“What ever are you talking--”

Fred dragged you toward the door and you could not help but follow behind, trying to keep up as he pulled you. You fought tears, unsure of what you had done to upset him.

He pulled you down the stairs, using his free hand to open up the cell he had been keeping you in originally. “Captain, please, talk to me,” you felt tears filling your own eyes. It was only then, as you looked up, you saw warm tears streaming down his face. His brown eyes looked brighter as they glistened.

He pushed you gently inside of the cell, slamming the door with a loud bang. His hands shook as he turned the key. He couldn’t remember the last time someone saw him cry. He felt embarrassed, but more so, he felt foolish for putting you in danger. Loving you was a losing game and all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He was falling for you faster than he could keep up with. His only defense was to retreat back into his role as a wretched villain in your story.

The only problem was that you had long forgotten him as a sinful pirate. Now, you had become to see him shed his harsh exterior. The light and warmth that emitted from his true self was not something that could be faked, and you knew it. As he stood before you crying, you longed to kiss his lips. You yearned to pull him close and wipe his tears away, using your lips to meet his dripping cheeks with affection.

“Fred, please, I...talk to me.”

Captain Weasley brought his hands up to the bars, slamming on them once more. His rings caused a loud, metallic sound to clang in your ears. “You do not know anything! You spoiled little rich girl! You think you do but you don’t.”

“Teach me,” you begged but he banged on the bars again.

“Be quiet! Jordan will be down with your supper.”

Fred wiped his tears quickly, adjusting his keys back onto his belt. He felt for his dagger, letting his thumb run of it. Just slightly, he let it slice into his skin, relishing in the pain that came soon after. He ignored the sounds of you banging on the bars, calling out to him. You were better off - or so he told himself.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #weasley twins

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Latibule pt. iii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: hi, the sexy stuff has arrived, so SMUT/18+only ahead, solo masturbation, blow jobs & hand jobs, mentions of hypochondria

Words: 5314

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: hello! this week has been a little crazier than i anticipated so i wasn’t able to finish editing the last part of this chapter - but don’t worry! i’ll have the second bit up soon!

Latibule

pt. iii: Roll shot - section i

when a player slows down the speed of their arm swing while attacking to send the ball in front of the defenders

[ pt. i: an opening ] || [ pt. ii: four set ] ||

His head feels heavy.

Kiyoomi blinks; eyes cracking open, peering into the murky darkness that envelops him. Little by little, he comes back to himself, heaving out a wearied exhale as he digs the heels of his palms against his face.

Where is he? Did he fall asleep? He can’t remember.

He’s splayed against something soft and he twists to his side, pillowing a muscled bicep under his cheek, somber brows furrowing as he tries to piece everything together.

Is he with you? No. You’d said you were busy.

So why...no, that’s not right...you’d told him you weren’t busy; that you were excited to see him.

He’d been the one who’d had to cancel. He’d hated hearing the disappointment in your voice when he’d called you. His fingers tense as they clutched his phone.

It’s not supposed to be like this. A week has gone by, and he hasn’t seen you. There’d been days of nothing but [ late ] texts and feeble conversations. It’s all so rushed, incomplete. It... he doesn’t like it. He misses you and he hates that it’s turned into this; a shitty, half-assed back and forth. He’s been so frustrated...no...not frustrated; angry.

Angry at his schedule, the endless repetition of games, meetings, and practices; angry at himself for not making more time, for not trying harder. He needs to try harder.

After he’d called you, cancelled your shared plans, told you a vague “maybe later,” all he wanted was to call you back; to ask [ beg ] for you to let him come over to yours. He wanted to [ hold you; be with... ] see you. It had been on his mind all day, but had he actually asked? Texted you? Called to see if you’d let him slip into the easy sanctity of your apartment? Did he? Think, think.

He can’t remember when he’d left the training facility. Practice ran long [ again ], and it was late. He’d thought it was too late to call you; you were likely asleep. So he must have come to his condo; he must have. Then... if he came home....

Nothing feels wrong, but nothing feels right, either.

And this isn’t his room.

It’s not a frightening revelation, but it is a distant curiosity; muddled by a sensation of heaviness that’s pressing against the back of his mind. If he’s not at his condo, where is he?

The air is chilled, but it holds the lingering fragrance of your perfume, and Kiyoomi’s nostrils flare as he dips his dark head against the softness of the mattress. It’s such an exquisite smell, that rich pull of patchouli and the balm of oranges. It’s his favorite; and he can picture you so clearly that he reaches for you in the darkness.

Even though you won’t be... won’t be... oh.

You’re warm under his hands, against his chest, and his lips instinctively work a damp line up the arc of your neck, his tongue and teeth sucking marks into your pulse, your throat, your shoulder, the shell of your delicate ear. He hums as he flexes his arms, rough fingertips pressing into the supple skin of your hip and thigh.

You’re here. You’re here, and he can touch you, can wrap his arms around you. When did...

“When did I get here?” he asks between caresses, mouth full of you. You don’t answer, opting to turn, slatting your curves against his angles, before easing your legs between his. Kiyoomi leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, raven curls spilling over your brow as he urges you closer, the flat of his hand bracing along the twin dimples of your lower back.

Your skin feels good.

It’s hot against him, holding the coldness of the room at bay, and he wants more of it. He tugs at your shirt, slipping it up, his fingers coursing over your stomach, your ribs, the gentle dip of your belly button, and the upper swell of your hips until you’re laughing, mirth bright as he strips you. As soon as the collar pops over your head you reach for him, mimicking his motions with his own top, teasing the cotton fabric upward, your arms tangling with his; eyes wide, and lips parted as you take in the chiseled expanse of his broad chest.

Your touch is featherlight; fingertips tracing over the coiled flex of his abdominals, and up the rise of his pectorals; stroking and exploring his exposed brawn. His hips unconsciously rock forward, breath sharp behind his gritted teeth, and a low apology slips from his curled lips.

“Why are you sorry? You shouldn’t be,” you say coyly, helping him fling his shirt over his mop of curls and off, the material fading into the hazy darkness as his hands slot you closer. It’s hard to make out the bra that’s covering you from his greedy stare, so he settles for a touch, easing a thumb under the wire, dexterously seeking the pert swell of your nipple.

He should’ve asked, he thinks, knocking stray waves of his hair from his hooded eyes with a jerk of his bowed head. He’s never touched you like this. But he can’t stop; not now, not when you’re this close, when he wants you so much.

“Take it off,” you purr, arching into his tentative pinches and pulls. “Take it off for me, Kiyoomi.”

Oh, fuck.

He bites his lip to contain a hoarse moan, touch fumbling as he reaches around your back, hands rough as they fiddle with the pronged clasp. Shit. He’s not good at this. Does he... can he pull it over your head instead? You’ve asked him to do it, and he wants to... he wants to; no, he will. He’s going to.

Can you just––Wait.

He shakes his head, eyes blinking. When did..? When did you move?

Somehow, you’ve disappeared from his side and are straddling him, your thighs tense against his, a pleased grin quirking your upturned lips. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?”

He gulps, tongue heavy behind his teeth, and nods once, praying you won’t ask him to answer you verbally. He doesn’t think he can; not when this ache is pooling in his gut and that burgeoning throb is making him shift restlessly under you.

“You’re so quiet tonight. That’s not like you, Kiyoomi,” you murmur, catching his hands in yours, sweeping his arms above his head. “Where are those quick retorts? You’re good at saying what’s on your mind. I like that about you, remember? Come on, Kiyoomi, tell me what you want to do.” You hover over his flushed form, slowly, carefully, overlapping his boneless wrists before pinning them down. You’re so close; he licks his lips when you drift languidly against him, your eyes vivid [ beautiful ] in the gloom.

One of your hands lifts and he twitches, a deep shudder echoing its way down his spine. The uncontrolled movement makes you squeeze your remaining fingers against his entwined wrists; reminding him of your control.

“Talk to me,” you entreat, tracing your thumb over his lips, using the wetness his tongue has left behind to part them. You drag your touch over him, cupping the other digits across the base of his jaw, teasing the tip of his well-formed neckline, your gaze watchful. “Do you like this?”

He nods again, and you smile, rewarding his silent answer with a smooth roll of your hips. The pressure against his straining bulge is electric, instantaneous, and Kiyoomi gasps; his mouth falling open, sharp teeth latching onto your probing thumb before his lips ease the sting with a hurried, apologetic suck.

“This is nice,” you hum, circling and grinding over the hardness that’s trapped between your spread thighs. “It’s such a rush, having a big guy like you at my mercy. I bet you’d do anything I say, wouldn’t you, Kiyoomi? Come on… Stop being so quiet. Talk to me. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

He bucks at that, his back arching as he ruts upward, rubbing himself against you until he’s panting. Damn it. It… It’s not enough. You’re too far, and that ache, fuck, that ache keeps spreading. It’s making his head spin, but he wants so much more.

“Come here,” he grunts, surging forward, hunting for your lips, for anything [ everything ] he can reach.

“That’s better,” you croon, holding yourself away from his desperation, running your saliva dampened thumb down the robust lines of his chest as you watch him writhe. “Tell me, Kiyoomi, what do you want?” His eyes wince closed, and a hissed moan falls between his teeth. He doesn’t… He wants…

“I–” he begins, lashes fluttering open as he looks for you. “I want… I want to… wait–Wait.”

Huh?

He’d blinked; now you’re under him, trapped between his braced arms. Your arms curl around his shoulders, one bent knee and arched ankle wrapping over the back of his thigh, your head tilting curiously against the sheets.

“Why did you stop?” you question, urging him down to your lips, “you didn’t finish telling me what you want.”

He’s inches from you; can feel the steady puffs of your breath when he stops himself, pulling away and easing onto his haunches, obsidian eyes wide. What’s going on?

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?” you ask, following him, crawling across his tensed thighs, lifting your fingers to tangle in his dark curls.

“Where are we?” Kiyoomi rasps, already bowled by the catch of your covered breasts and the heat of your bare skin against his.

“Don’t you remember?”

[ Wake up ]

“No,” he swallows thickly, easing you into a more comfortable position; helping you to steady your thighs on either side of his hips as his hands rest between the jut of your shoulder blades. “Am I at your place?”

“Uh-uh,” you smile, lowering your fingers from his scalp, reaching behind yourself to trace them over his own. The stretch of your arms makes your back bow and his eyes fall to the tantalizing swell of your cleavage, full lips parting as he curves himself over you.

“Then...” he grits, his splayed digits jolting as you slip him down to that tempting clasp of your bra once more. “I don’t understand. Where are we? How did you… how did we get here?”

“Does it matter?” You help him pull the metal eyelets apart, and the give of the elastic, the hollow dip of the cups that are modestly covering your plush breasts, makes his heart thud against his ribs.

“Kiyoomi,” you breathe, leaning close, your lips sucking against his earlobe, “It’ll be ok, touch me.” But when he reaches for you, the world fades into a blinding emptiness.

[ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ]

Kiyoomi gasps, surging from his pillow; sleep thickened tongue catching in his mouth, making him cough and sputter into the stuffy darkness of his bedroom. He feels breathless; lips agape, long fingers curling behind his head as he hunches over bent knees. Damn it. A dream. It was a fucking, ah…

The drape of his thin sheet covers hips, cloaking his straining [ aching ] want, but he knows he can’t ignore it. Not when he can still see you, can feel the remnants of your touch, the whisper of your voice; no, he’s too far gone.

He’ll need to deal with it.

The fine mist from his shower fills the bathroom and Kiyoomi steps under the heated spray, dampening his thick waves, before catching the water between his palms, splashing it over his burning cheeks.

Just dream; a lucid dream, one that seemed so alive, so full of you. He can’t shake the sight of your avid want out of his head. You were so forward, eager to touch him, to tease him. And when you’d clasped his hands above his head, he’d almost–damn. The heat of the water isn’t helping with these remembrances, but he doesn’t want to dim this.

He wants to see it through.

His palm drifts down his stomach, sliding past the trimmed thatch of curls and stroking over the aching hardness of his cock. The tip is swollen, flushed, and he easily gathers the beading pre-cum, coating his fingers before starting that familiar squeeze and tug that will lift him out of this lust-filled haze. He goes slowly, [ it’s more about the pressure than the speed for him, anyway ] gripping the base before he swipes forward, and his hips follow the rhythm, bare feet restless against the slippery tiles.

Your hand is smaller than his.

Would you need to use both? Would you start like this? With your fingers caressing over his velvet softness until he’s blanketing your touch with his, showing you what he likes. Or would you linger against his tip? Using your thumb to send sparks up and down his spine as you stroke over his slit.

Kiyoomi groans at that thought, one palm bracing against the wall as he leans forward, cascading heated water over his muscled back. His own thumb mimics the vision that’s in his head, and the sensation makes his hips rock forward as another line of pre-cum dribbles between his fingers. Oh fuck, that feels good.

Would you want to taste him?

Run your lips under the weight of his engorged dick, your tongue lapping over his veins until he’s a heaving mess above you? Would you like that?

He can picture you stepping into the steamed metal and glass of the shower with him, your body pressing close as you scatter kisses against his neck, your hands reaching for him. You’re gentle; so gentle it makes his teeth ache, but he doesn’t want gentle. Not now. He pushes against your shoulders, forcing you to fall to your knees, to peer up at him from the sopping floor, that beguiling smile on your lips as you stroke your hands along his tensed thighs.

You’re so pretty.

He cradles your cheek as he lures you forward, hissing out a string of low curses when you cup his balls, and slick your fingers against his bulbous head, working your palm over him until he’s gasping. When your lips part and you draw him into your mouth, his head thumps dully against the wall; broad chest stained with splotches of pink, hands shaking as he holds you between them.

Your cheeks hollow and he watches the up and down motion of your languid bob through drooped lashes; obsidian eyes faded. You’re taking him so well; tongue licking under him before slurping up to his slit, fringing the tip along the trickling flow of his needy cock.

Fuck, you’re so damn perfect.

He’s moaning out your name now, and his dick is throbbing from the rough tugs he’s inflicting upon himself, but he can’t stop; not when he can almost feel [ see ] you.

When he [ accidentally, he swears ] thrusts himself deeper into your wet mouth, he’s got an apology against his lips, but you shake your head, a low laugh reverberating around his pulsing cock as you suckle him harder. [ Yes ] he says, combing his fingernails across your scalp, [ good, girl, just like that. ] He can feel your grin, the answering rumble of your moan, the teasing squeeze of your water pruned fingers against the meat of his buttocks, and he’s lost.

His cum splatters bone white across the dark tiles and Kiyoomi falls to the floor, [ alone ] his limbs shaking and heart pounding. He runs a trembling hand through his wet curls.

Fuck. It’s not… it’s not enough.

There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep now.

They’re losing this set.

Sure, it’s a team effort, but his feeble performance isn’t helping.

None of his serves are landing, and a good deal of his blocks are a tempo behind. It’s not enough to bench him, but he can feel the eyes of his captain, and Miya’s made it abundantly clear that he won’t set for him again until he proves he can get past a ‘‘freakin’ two man block’.

It’s not a matter of caution, or upping his momentum. This slump isn’t about his preparedness as a volleyball player; but that doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, bracing into his slouched ready position. No amount of coaching, or smack talk from his teammates can give him back his sleep.

After his shower, he’d sat in front of his bedroom’s standing fan, a towel draped over his bowed head, and stared at his waterlogged fingers. He’s masturbated plenty of times; it was something quick, or scratched a dull itch. Never anything more than a mindless stroke and pull; a routine. As easy as hopping in the shower, or changing his clothes. It meant nothing.

But last night?

It felt like he’d slipped back into that dream; like all he needed to do was reach out and touch you. This time he couldn’t get it [ get you ] out of his head, and he’d spent the rest of his precious twilight hours replaying those heady visions; a hand stroking over his cock and teeth gritted against the pain of his self-inflicted overstimulation.

But it’s not enough. After all, none of these fevered imaginings have a real life comparison; not yet.

You’ve both taken things slow. Sure, there had been moments. Points when he wanted to keep pressing, or when you took your touches lower, keen fingers cupping him over the rough material of his clothes. But neither of you broached that last boundary.

When would you have had the time?

If he didn’t have a practice, a game, or a meeting, then you had a job interview, or a shift at the coffee shop. Some days even going to dinner felt exhausting, and both of you had drifted into an unsteady doze against the other [ on the train - your couch - as you leaned against him at the dinner table, or when he leaned against you in the station's emptiness ] on more than one occasion. Most people are busy; it’s expected, but it feels like he’s missing something. Other members on his team have wives, long-term partners, or kids; so how do they do it? Is it scheduled? Or are they content with those short 4 or 5 hours bursts? Is that really enough time?

Maybe he’s being greedy, but with you, how can he not be?

“Sakusa,” the assistant coach calls from across the gym, breaking him out of his myriad of thoughts. “Next time out, come see me.”

Miya laughs, sucking his teeth obnoxiously from center court; golden head flashing under the lights before giving him a knowing leer. Kiyoomi takes a deep inhale, pointedly avoiding those umber eyes, focusing on the stretch of his long arms as he rolls them forward and back.

Damn it.

His shoulder hurts, he thinks glumly, listening for the starting whistle as he eases his muscles, tenderly poking at the strained tissue. Maybe he should have gone a little easier in the shower… on his futon? Not gone as fast or as hard? But the image of you had come so easily, and it’s been so long since he’s had the chance to see you, to touch you. Of course he’d been excited; ready to release that pent up pressure.

Tch, wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake? MSBY’s star wing spiker, Sakusa Kiyoomi, forced to sit out because he tore his rotator cuff during masturbation. It’d be just his luck.

“You needed to see me?” Kiyoomi asks, toweling the perspiration off his curls as he tempers himself for a discussion about his lousy receives and sloppy serves.

“Ah! Yes!” the assistant coach nods. “I realize you’re missing the meeting for that event, but I need to go over a few points with you before you take off. About the recent change in rotation, are you alright with your placement on the–Hey?Sakusa? Are you listening? You… seem a little off today. You alright?”

No, he’s not ok.

His nails cut into his palms, and he can hear his teeth grinding between his clenched lips. Shit. Five weeks, he’d had five weeks to ask you. Plenty of time.

Sure, he had a packed schedule, and you’d been busy with your own work, but how had something this important slipped his mind? He shouldn’t have waited. He should have asked you the first night he’d seen the invitation.

It’s such a simple thing, asking you if he could come; he’d talked to his coaches about it, but he’d neglected to speak to the one person who mattered; had the final say. How could he be so stupid?

“Sakusa… Hey, you look pale, do you need to sit, or–”

“I’m fine,” he sighs, giving his fists a last squeeze before looking up at the bewildered face of the assistant coach. “I forgot to check on something.”

“Really? That’s not like you. You’re usually on top of stuff.”

“I know. I’ll take care of it during the break.”

“Will that be enough time? I can–”

“No, I’ll handle it. What were you saying about the rotation?”

The cafe is busy, but he cuts past the bustle, using his imposing height and sturdy build to shoulder his way to the divider that separates you from the main floor. You don’t see him at first, too focused on the timing of your shots and the velvety foam that you’re building in your steaming pitcher, but when you look up, spying his engrossed gaze, your face lights up.

“Oh my God! Hey! I didn’t know you were coming by! You guys on a mid-morning break? You want your latte? Or just a coffee again?”

“I didn’t order anything,” he blurts, running his tongue over his mask-covered lips.

Damn. It’s so good to see you; to watch you move, see that grin, hear your voice, be this close to you. Yes, the dream was nice, but his fevered imagination paled compared to this.

To you.

His remembrances hadn’t fully captured the glow of your face, the brightness of your eyes, and the ease of your smile. You’re so [ beautiful ] pretty. The stark vibrancy makes him want to reach for you. To see if he at least got the warmth of your skin right, or the familiar slide of your touch against his.

No, focus; that’s not why he’s here, and he doesn’t have much time.

“That’s alright,” you continue, seamlessly topping off a drink as you grin up at him. “I’ll just add yours to my tab. So you want a coffee or a latte?”

“Uh, I–coffee? It’s quick.”

“Oh,” you remark, arching your eyes at his sober explanation. “You running behind? You didn’t need to walk all the way down here if you didn’t have time.”

He’s about to elaborate on his belated presence when you break away, walking to the brewing urns. Shit, he should have said he didn’t want anything, he thinks sullenly, sinking his curled fists into his jacket. Now it looks like he only traipsed down here for the caffeine. This isn’t going the way he wanted it to. Not that he had a concrete plan, but it feels like he can’t get off the back foot today.

Kiyoomi puffs out a stilted sigh, twisting his head to glance at the clock by the door. It’s alright; he’s got a little more time. Just ask her about it. Say sorry for waiting so long to ask, but he wants to see if he can go with you tonight... and if you have plans, if you tell him no, then it’s not the end of the world. There will be other chances, other events, but he’ll understand [ hate it ] if he misses this one.

He’s so lost in thought that it takes you calling his name twice to snap him out of his head.

“What?”

“I said, here’s your coffee. You alright? You look preoccupied,” you note, passing him an insulated to-go cup brimming with the aromatic house brew.

Ask her. Stop stalling.

“I’m fine. Your event, I mean that Dean’s welcome thing. At your school. It’s tonight, right?”

“Welcome– um, event?” you question, tapping a used espresso puck from your portafilter. “What do–Oh! The panel. Yeah, it’s tonight. How did you–”

“Saw it on your fridge,” he gulps, fingers twitching around the sharp heat of his cup. [ Please, don’t say he’s too late. ]

The puzzled cock of your head straightens, and you chuckle. “Ahh, right. Totally forgot I’d put it up there. I always clip the things I need to remember on the door, hoping that seeing it every day will somehow keep it in my collective consciousness, but clearly that doesn’t work too well, huh? God, I don’t think I’ve looked at that for months, I’m surprised you noticed it.”

“Can I come?”

Your eyes are wide when you look up at him, your raised hand rotating the steam wand off, meeting his obsidian gaze through a mist of condensation. He knows his dark brows are knitted, that his head is likely comically dipped forward, but he hopes he looks sincere. He wants to go with you so badly. Then, tentatively, your lips curl into that amiable smile, and he lets a belated breath leave his lungs. [ Yes. ]

“Uh, sure! I feel like I have to warn you though... it’s not going to be the most exciting thing we’ve ever done, but, yeah, I’d... I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Good,” he nods, easing his shoulders back, glad to feel some of that coiled tension dissipating. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay. Text me the time?”

Wait. Leave? Already? But he just got here…

“I–sure, I’ll do that,” you fumble, blinking after Kiyoomi’s half turned back.

“See you soon,” he murmurs, voice catching against his hidden smile. “Have a good day.”

Hold on. He can’t just walk in here, tell you he wants to go to your boring faculty meet and greet, and then walk back out like nothing happened. This is... well... for the two of you, it’s big. It’s almost like you’re making this whole thing… official. Something where you’ll need to introduce him to others. To say he’s with… with you. Will he want you to call him your… your…

No. That’s not what’s important right now. You’ve hardly seen him these past few weeks. Who does he think he is? Swooping in, turning your whole day around, and then coolly heading back to his practice.

No way; you’re not gonna let him go, not like this.

“Saku–Kiyoomi!” you call out, stepping away from the heat of the espresso machine, and the long line of drinks that are waiting for your attention, your feet pattering across the dark flooring, following his long strides as he makes his way across the cafe. He stops when he hears your earnest cry, dark eyes watchful as he meets yours, and you gasp out a choked laugh. Great. You got his attention and now you don’t even remember what you were gonna say.

Your cumbersome fingers tingle as you fiddle with the knotted strings of your apron, and you shake your head at your abashed clumsiness, but when you glance at the door again he’s still waiting, his stark gaze following your movements. Finally, fucking finally, you’re free and you fling the cotton apron across a back counter, calling a quick excuse to a snickering Kane as you rush to Kiyoomi’s side.

“Hey, sorry, I know you–look, just… it’ll only take a second, promise,” you gasp, snatching at the corner of his jacket.

Your grip brushes against the arch of his wrist and he sucks in a drag of air, jerking his hand out of his pocket and wrapping it up with yours, interlacing warm fingers as you lead him outside. Soft; your touch is so very soft, and he clasps you tighter, pulse drumming against his breastbone. He’s been waiting for [ missed ] this.

“Sorry,” you pant, hauling him past the glass doors. “I don’t know why I–I just… I know you need to go. But, ha, that was so nice. Like… I wasn’t... after not seeing you for… I wasn’t expecting it. You wanting to come to something of mine. It–” your footfalls stop when the two of you are beside that bench under the tree, the one where he’d first kissed you; drawing him closer, resting your palms against his muscled chest as you look up at him. “It’s going to be so boring, and I know you’ll totally think: ‘what a waste of time,’ when you get there, but… shit. I can’t even… get my thoughts together. Take your mask off, you clumsy romantic; I want to kiss you.”

The strip of protective material is down in an instant and his long forgotten coffee nearly topples out of his wavering hold in his headlong scramble to feel you against him. Thankfully, you spot the tottering cup, and pluck it out of his hands, dropping it haphazardly on the wooden slats of the bench.

“Sorry. Not up for second-degree burns, heh. I’ll make you another,” you bargain, arms curling around his powerful neck as you tug him down to you.

“I didn’t want it. I only came to ask you about tonight,” Kiyoomi rumbles between his impassioned presses, full lips rubbing and sucking greedily against yours.

“That so?” you smart, snatching hold of his lapels, arching onto the balls of your feet as you reach for more. He shakes his onyx curls, hands sliding to the round swell of your hips, delirious in the knowledge that this isn’t some dream that will slip between his fingers.

He’s missed [ you ] this so much.

The break was only a half hour. But time doesn’t matter, not when he can hold you like this, and he takes advantage of that revelation, cupping your chin under his palm as you open for him. He nips at your lower lip, pleased when you clutch him tighter, and soothes the lingering sting with a quick swipe of his tongue.

You taste like espresso and nutmeg, and now that he’s had it, he can’t get enough of that heady flavor. So he hunches himself over you, nose pressing against the warmth of your cheek as his eyes wince closed; trying to memorize every piece of [ you you you ] this.

“Kiyoo… mmm, Kiyoomi,” you hum, fingers bracing against his weight, “You’re gonna be… you’re gonna be… sorry… so late.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he scolds, hands dragging along your neck, fingers hooking under your jaw, lips pouted as he searches for yours. [ Not yet ] He’s not ready. [ Not yet. ]

You allow him one more kiss, but when he tries to shift you upward, powerful arms wrapping around your waist, you wriggle away from his insatiable hold, grinning up at his disgruntled expression. “You better go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

His thick brows furrow and his mouth falls into a slant; disappointed that you’re being so [ damned ] responsible about all of this. “Fine. Send me a text about where to go and the time. I’m not going to the meeting today.”

“Yes coach,” you tease, and he grunts out an exasperated sigh at the playful nickname, tugging his mask over his kiss shined lips, black eyes concealed behind his lashes. A blush stains the apples of his cheeks when he meets your gaze, and while he wishes you wouldn’t look at him so smugly, he can’t say he’s not mesmerized by your own kiss swept appearance, too.

“Go,” you repeat, lifting on your tiptoes, chastely tapping your lips against the side of his mask. “And thank you again. I’m glad you’re coming.”

He doesn’t want to leave; he’ll see you soon, he reasons, stroking his index finger down your warm brow. But he wishes this moment would last a little longer.

notes: sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliff hanger! section. ii should be spiffed up soon!

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pascalpanic · 4 years

Text

Tik Tok Tyranny (Marcus Moreno x f!Reader)

Part of the Making Moves universe

Summary: Missy has become obsessed with Tik Tok. Luckily for her and not-so-luckily for you, her mini-mom adds many likes to her posts. Marcus gets roped in too.

W/C: 2.6k

Warnings: Language, Missy gets The Full Name when Marcus gets mad. otherwise it’s rlly tame.

A/N: PSHSHRHTS guys this idea has been rattling around my head and I thought it was super cute so I had to do it!! Lots of love to @leonieb for inspiring the first fic in this universe (who knows, maybe there are more to come?), @theteddylupinexperience for helping me out with all of my plot and helping me come up with this idea in the first place, and my babe @softly-sad for simping over Marcus with me and giving me some ideas!!

Missy’s Tik Tok page has been blowing up lately, and most of it is due to you.

It all started when she downloaded the app, showing you and her father the funniest ones she’d found. Many of them consisted of cute animals and bad jokes, since she inherited her father’s sense of humor. Your phone constantly dinged with new messages from Missy, sending you funny videos and recipes.

This morning, you wake to big brown eyes in a tiny head above your bed. “Good morning,” Missy sings. “We’re making a Tik Tok. Up and at ‘em!” She shouts, pulling back your covers.

You groan and roll over, finding Marcus’s side of the bed empty. “Where’s your dad?” You ask with a gravelly voice, eyes fluttering open.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t matter, he’s not gonna be in it. Actually, we do need a cameraman- Dad!” Missy hollers into the hall.

You groan and rub your eyes, reaching for your glasses. “It’s like 7, kid. How do you have so much energy? You don’t even drink coffee,” You ask her, a yawn overtaking your face.

“Because I’ve been planning this since last night,” she says with a grin, ripping the covers back once more. “Come on, please.”

Another yawn. “Fine. What are we doing, hm?” You ask her, eyes opening as you stretch out in bed.

“I’m dressing you for the day,” she sings. “You know those videos?”

“No,” you groan. “There are a lot of videos, kid.”

“You’re annoying,” she pouts and plops next to you. “Your Gen Z bestie dresses you for the day!”

Marcus walks in with two mugs of coffee, and he hands one to you. You smile and thank him and he looks at his daughter with a furrowed brow. “You’re not making her regret moving in, are you?” He teases her.

“No,” she rolls her eyes as you sip your coffee. “We’re making a tik tok. I’m gonna dress her for the day and you’re going to be our cameraman,” she tells him with a grin, handing him her phone. “Alright, let’s go,” she says and stands, hauling you up and almost making you spill your coffee.

“Damn, Missy,” you laugh and stand with her. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

She shrugs. “Uh, wave at the camera. This will be the before shot.” Your hair is messy and tied up, your glasses perched on your nose. You’re wearing a large t-shirt belonging to Marcus and a pair of shorts. You sip your coffee and wave as Marcus records it. “Good, all is going to plan,” Missy grins and leads you along.

That video got a fair amount of likes; it didn’t go completely viral, but you were popular. It made Missy excited beyond belief and she insisted that you make another. “How good are you at dancing?” She asks casually over lunch.

“Oh God, Missy,” you chuckle and shake your head. “Not great, but I can move somewhat easily. What did you have in mind?”

She beams at you. “The scene from Mamma Mia where young Donna is on a boat Bill and they dance around on it!”

You both adore the Mamma Mia movies. They’re what brought you together; Missy needed a female presence in her life besides her grandmother, and one night, after being ditched by her friends, Marcus suggested she text you. You brought her to your house and the two of you watched Mamma Mia while eating pints of Ben and Jerry’s, singing along at the top of your lungs and making jokes at the movie’s expense.

It turns out that the dance isn’t overly complicated. You’ve both watched the movies so many times that it’s almost like second nature to the two of you. You’re practicing the dance to the blasting speakers in the backyard when Marcus finds the two of you. “Hey ladies,” he calls out, but you can’t hear him. The two of you are spinning each other around and laughing as you practice, Missy bonking into you and making you both stop, beaming laughing.

Marcus pulls out his phone and records it for a moment, grinning as he watches it. His two girls having the time of their lives, dancing to the Mamma Mia soundtrack in their shared home. It’s wonderful.

The dance segment ends and you both stop, catching your breath. You grin as you see Marcus and rush over to him, throwing your arms around him. You kiss his cheek before burying your face in his neck. “Hi, snuggles.” It’s your favorite name for Marcus: he’s tall and strong but so cuddly and unbearably soft. You want your arms around him at all times. “I missed you all day, stupid work,” you chuckle.

He wraps his arms around you too. “Missed you too, baby. You and Missy are two great dancers,” he chuckles.

“Please. I look like I’m dying,” you snort, lifting your head and kissing him softly on the lips.

That’s your second Tik Tok video to earn a favorable amount of likes: the video of the dance that Marcus took while you practiced.

The two of you make a new joint account: @missyandminimom. Mini-Mom was her new favorite term for you: you weren’t quite her stepmom yet, not married to Marcus and not a legal guardian to her. But you were like her mom. Thus, Mini-Mom was born.

The video was posted again there and got likes in the thousands, sending you into relative fame. Missy screamed every time she checked the app, her new followers exciting her far more than it excited you.

The next step, Missy decided, was that Marcus needs to be a participant. But not a willing one, or at least not a participant that appears as willing.

“Please Dad, you just need to walk through the background!” Missy begs of Marcus with wide eyes.

Marcus shakes his head but smiles. “You’re not making me dance.”

“Nope! It’ll be just the two of us dancing, and you do whatever you need to in the background. It’ll be funny!”

“Isn’t the point of those things that the people don’t know they’re being recorded?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Just act like you’re not! People will think it’s hilarious, us dancing and you just walking in the background. Everyone will recognize you and we’ll get famous!”

“Fame isn’t the goal,” you clarify to Marcus and to Missy. “We just think it would be funny,” you offer up.

Marcus can’t say no to you. “Well, I suppose,” he groans, and Missy cheers and throws her arms around him.

“You’re the best! I love you so much!” She squeals, letting go and running over to where you stand. “Okay, we’re gonna count down then do the dance, you just walk through the background, stop and look, whatever.”

Marcus nods and you give Missy a high five. “Nice going,” you tease and nudge her side. “Alright, you ready?” You and Missy have been preparing the dance for the past couple of days, and you’re wearing matching outfits now.

“Yeah, here we go,” she squeals and presses the record button. She backs up next to you as the timer beeps.

You start the dance, and Marcus walks dutifully through the background a few seconds in. He stands there for a second, staring at your ass, before wandering out before you complete the dance.

“Woo!” You and Missy both shout as you walk to the camera and check out the video. The dance goes perfect, and you widen your eyes as you look back at Marcus over your shoulder. “Jesus, Marcus,” you tease.

“I got distracted,” he murmurs, blushing, and you run over to him and wrap your arms around him, jumping up and wrapping your legs around him too. He holds you up and kisses the side of your face. “You’re so good with her.”

“She makes it easy,” you laugh and bury your face in his neck.

Missy whips around with her phone and records the two of you, where you stand koala-wrapped on Marcus. “You’re so gross,” she groans and heads off to edit the video.

The video does, indeed, go viral, as people recognize that that’s Marcus Moreno in the background, so that must be his daughter and does he have a girlfriend now? You even found you and Missy on the cover of a digital tabloid, in a shot of you hugging. At least they were kind about you.

The next video is a prank on Marcus. You and Missy spent the day planning it, giggling nefariously as you set everything up. You replaced Marcus’s katanas at home with a pair made of plastic, meaning he can’t summon them with his powers. When he returns home, the trap is laid, and you and Missy follow a loose script.

As you cook dinner side-by-side with your boyfriend, you smile up at him. “You know, you’ve never given me a demonstration of your powers, baby,” you murmur to him and kiss his cheek, continuing to stir the ingredients you’re working on.

“Because at home, I’m just your man,” he says and kisses you softly, cupping your face with one hand. You smile into his lips, and you have to admit that you appreciate it. You didn’t realize he was a Heroic until a few weeks of being his neighbor, when it finally clicked that he wasn’t just Marcus, he and Missy weren’t just the Morenos, he was Marcus. Moreno. He always leaves his work at work and you appreciate it.

“Why are you so fucking cute?” you coo and kiss him again. “Still. Just… do the thing, please, whoosh those katanas over here?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his middle and looking up at him with big eyes.

He sighs and nods. “I suppose.” You can see Missy shooting from around the corner and you sneak her a thumbs up. He stares in concentration, holding out his hand to summon them. Damn, he must be out of practice, he thinks, focusing harder. His lip twitches in frustration as it doesn’t work. “Fuck!” He ends up shouting after a few moments where nothing works, and Missy claps a hand over her mouth.

“Dad!” She exclaims with a laugh. Marcus very rarely curses, if ever, and his eyes widen as he realizes she was filming it.

“Melissa Angélica Moreno, don’t you dare-” he threatens as he realizes what she wants to do with it. It’s going on Tik Tok, whether he likes it or not. He lunges after her and Missy squeals, launching off a chase through the house as Marcus pursues her.

That video got the most likes of all of them. Glimpses into celebrity lives always do, and you knew from the start that Marcus’s videos would garner lots of attention. Lots of people thirsted over him in the comments. Many duets were made of people saying they wished they were you. You only supposed it was fair; who wouldn’t want to be with Marcus?

“Baby?” You mumble late one night in bed.

“What is it?” A sleepy Marcus murmurs next to your ear.

You sigh, rolling over in his arms to face him. “I know you’re famous, and Missy’s Tik Tok isn’t helping either, but you love me, right?”

His eyes open and he frowns. “Where the hell did that come from?” He asks, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms tight around you. “Of course I do.”

There’s still a small frown on your face. “You’re a superhero. You have a ton of people who would line up to date you. Lots of options.”

He chuckles and kisses your forehead. “Baby. I fell in love with you when you were wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and drinking coffee on your porch. How could you ever question how much I love you?” He asks, voice tinged with sadness.

You feel warm inside at his words, scooting closer. “I know. I just… get insecure about it sometimes.”

“You never have to be,” he assures you and kisses your forehead. “I have never and will never love anyone more than you, except Missy. That’s a tie.”

You giggle softly. “I love you so much, baby,” you murmur into his skin.

“I love you too, cutie. Now please go the hell back to sleep.”

“More like a grizzly bear,” you grumble but smile. You fall asleep just like that, your arms around him tight and face nuzzled in his neck.

Two days later, Missy comes flying into your bedroom on a Sunday morning, nearly making Marcus spill his coffee. “You guys!” She squeals. “I just posted a Tik Tok that got the most likes ever, and it’s only been up for like ten hours!”

You groan and scoot away from Marcus so Missy can cuddle in between the two of you. “What did you make now, huh?” You ask as she nestles in.

Missy projects her phone to the screen. She takes your left hand and Marcus’s right, joining them and grinning. “Let me first just say… you’re welcome,” she giggles.

The video starts. my simp-erhero dad and his love🧸✨ flashes across the screen over an image of you on Marcus’s shoulders in their backyard pool.

The video rolls, and it’s about 40 seconds long. A popular love song plays in the back over clips of you and Marcus. You kissing Marcus’s cheek after he found you and Missy dancing to Mamma Mia in the backyard. You, cuddled on top of Marcus on the couch, the both of you napping. You koala-clinging to Marcus after he stared at your ass in that dancing video. Marcus kissing you softly as you cooked dinner and asked him to demonstrate his powers. The last video is of you, Marcus, and Missy at a theme park. Both you and Marcus kiss one of her cheeks in sync, making her giggle. The music fades and the video starts again.

Marcus turns to the two of you, eyes watering. He looks into your eyes first. “Did you help her make that?” He asks.

Your eyes are watering too, grinning. “No.”

He grins down at his daughter, the tears slipping from his eyes. “Missy. That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. What inspired you to make it?”

She has a real answer: it’s that she wanted the two of you to see your relationship the way she did. She wanted to reassure you. She’d heard you that night when you told Marcus you felt insecure.

But Missy is a snarky little preteen, 4’4” of prepubescent rage and glitter. “The likes I knew I’d get,” she shrugs and skips out of the bedroom happily.

Before you can say something loving to Marcus, he takes your face in his and kisses you slowly. You both chuckle into each other’s lips, you breaking away and looking at him with big and happy eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Marcus grins, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Hey, I have a question for you. Well, it’s more of a statement.”

“Go for it,” you nod.

“We should get married,” Marcus says plainly with a smile. “I’ve already asked Missy about it, she thinks we should too. Of course, if you don’t want to, I get that. I know we haven’t been dating as long as other relationships do before marriage, and-”

“Yes,” you grin. “Let’s do it.”

He grins and kisses you, holding both sides of your face in his hands. “You know, the two of us seem to really like rash decisions.”

“They always work out in the end, don’t they?” You ask with a grin.

Marcus kisses you in response. They do, they really do. He breaks away a moment later, grinning and watery-eyed. “I still don’t know what a simp is,” he sniffles.

Taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #we can be heroes #pascalpanic

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cierrabiscuits · 4 years

Text

Miya Atsumu X Fem Reader : Eligible Bachelor Alt route.

Word count: 5.4 K

Warnings: Some suggestive content, harassment, alcohol consumption, Nightmares, and a dab of angst. Happy ending :)

AN: I felt awful for breaking his heart in Sakusa’s route, but I’m atoning for my sins today. I went with a new approach and the ending is very fluffy! Also a big shoutout to @ambershaydeoffical for helping me edit and giving me some ideas! I hyper linked all the songs used! I hope you guy enjoy.-CB

Find Sakusa’s route here

Find Bokuto’s route here

~Story~

“Why did I ever agree to let you pick me up?” Your hand was gripping the support bar In Atsumu’s car for dear life.

“Because you love me and you know I’d get lost without my lovely Y/N.” Atsumu gave you a goofy smile as he shifted the gears.

“First off I’m your manager, second can you please go the speed limit. I’d like to make it to this charity event alive and in one piece.” You looked over to see him giving you a devilish smirk.

“You said we were late, therefore I’m making up for the lost time.” You rolled your eyes at him, but knew he was right.

“Maybe I should have let Omi take me, at least he would have driven the speed limit.” You said smirking at the setter.

“Oh yeah? Well yer stuck with me, besides I play good music.” He spun the volume button on the console all the way up. ‘This is what you came for’ started to boom through the speakers.

“Baby, this is what you came for Lightning strikes every time she moves And everybody's watching her But she's looking at you, ooh, ooh-” His thick accent attempted to sing along. You couldn't help but break out laughing.

“Tsumu I love you, but there is a reason you're a setter and not a singer.” You turned the music down so he could hear you.

“So you do love me?” He whipped his head to look at you. Your face ran hot, but panic came right with the rush of heat.

“Umm-TSUMU WATCH THE ROAD.” You screamed as he swerved a bit. Your hand found refuge yet again on the support bar. “Thank God we're almost there, you're an awful driver. Maybe worse than Bo.”

“I was kind enough to offer you a ride since your car is messed up and this is the thanks I get.” Your car’s transmission decided to go out, leaving you without transportation until it was fixed. But it ended being a blessing and a curse. Blessing being you get to hang with Atsumu alone and not to mention how sexy he was driving the standard shift. Curse being he was a crappy driver and your transmission broke your savings account.

“In all seriousness thank you Tsumu, you're the best.” You knew you were feeding his ego by saying that, but you were truly grateful. But he didn’t speak or even give you one of his normal cheeky comments. You looked over to see his cheeks glowing red,. You wish you could take a picture of the blushing athlete, but the venue was the next turn off.

“Tsumu, turn left at the next light.” You could see the huge venue center, the picture you saw online didn’t do the justice.

“You really sound like a GPS Y/N. Cute.” He turned the wheel with one hand and pulled into a parking spot.

“You have reached your destination.” You tried to imitate a GPS voice, but failed.

“I hear ya, wait here.” Atsumu unbuckled and hopped out of his car. You sat confused but then realized he was coming to open the door for you. He opened your door and offered you a hand which you gladly took.

“What a gentleman. Tsumu you're spoiling me.” You could get used to this side of him.

“No fair, Omi didn't open the door for me.” You turned your head to see Bokuto pouting.

“You're lucky I even drove you here, quit pushing it.” Sakusa rolled his eyes. “That goes for you too.” He then shot a death glared at poor Hinata.

“Okay guys less fighting more walking, Now pick those feet up, I need to meet with the event coordinator!” You lead the boys towards the venue. It reminded you of a Roman colosseum. It was stunning.

“Wow this place is huge! I bet there's a lot of people in there!” Hinata looked up at the venue it awe.

“How dreadful.” Sakusa said, adjusting his facemask. You had to beg him to come. After a little persuading he finally said yes.

“You already agreed to come Omi, please don’t back out now.” You pouted at Sakusa, causing him to roll his eyes. “Besides we’re already here.” You pointed at the large doors that led into the venue. They all looked excited to be here (Minus poor Sakusa).

“I know yer just itching to letcher us. I can tell by the look on your pretty face.” Sporting a smug look, Atsumu leaned on the side of the building. He never missed an opportunity to make your heart flutter.

“You know me so well Tsumu.” You smirked at the setter. You turned your attention to the rest of the group. “As you already know this is for charity, so keep it classy. You will also be auctioned off for a date, so whoever gets you, please be nice and respectful. You have a little time to kill so explore the place a bit and put yourself out there.”

“We'll be on our best behavior!” Bokuto chimed in giving you a thumbs up.

“I know. Now let's head in.” You went to open the door but Atsumu beat you to it. A heat tried to crawl its way up your neck, but you pushed it down. There was a time and place to dwell on the way Atsumu made you feel giddy. Now was not the time, sadly. It was hardly ever the right time, being the manager was a demanding position, their public image was one of your main concerns, which meant having an unprofessional fan girl moment was out of the question.

Once inside, you couldn’t settle your eyes to any one spot. To say the venue was packed would be an understatement. It was a flood of designer dresses and fancy tuxedos. It made you feel severely under dressed, but you're not here for fun. As much as you would love to dance the night away with the boys, specifically Atsumu, you were mature enough to realize how important tonight is.

“Bokuto let’s go eat! Atsumu isn’t your brother catering some of the food?” Hinata asked, eyeing the onigiri.

“Yup, he worked all day to make enough onigiri for tonight.” Atsumu said proudly. He and his brother may fight and quarrel, but they are both so supportive to each other.

“We better hurry and get some!” Bokuto grabbed Hinata by the arm and ran towards the food.

“You know where I’ll be. Just come get me when it’s time.” Sakusa walked towards a secluded corner.

“Now what do you plan on doing Tsumu?” You asked looking around the crowded room.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably bother Omi-Omi at some point.” He glanced at Sakusa sulking in his designated corner.

“Leave him alone! I need him to stay cooperative.” You wacked Atsumu in the back.

“Whatever you want doll. I have some orders for ya too.” Atsumu’s bright hazel eyes met your tired ones. Could he tell how nervous you were for this event? What could he possibly order you to do?

“What would that be?” You looked up at him, ready to deny his request.

“If you're gonna dance, make sure it's with me. We killed ‘Down on me’ at the last gala we went to.” Atsumu wiggled his eyebrows. You will never forget that night, you were full of liquid courage and danced on him all night long.

“Tsumu you have to dance with whoever bids on you. I’m in manager mode tonight and I’m staying sober this time.” You glanced at your watch and it was almost time to meet with the event coordinator. “ I doubt I’ll have time to dance at all. Oh snap, look at the time,I have to go to Tsumu.” You turned to walk towards the stage but he grabbed before you could get too far.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make my way to ya. Count on it.” He spoke right next to your ear, causing your hair to rise up. He released you and disappeared into the crowd. Your face was burning from the bottom of your throat, to the tip of your ears. Damn that Miya.

“Y/N thank you for coming!” The coordinator extended her hand for you to shake.

“No problem, I look forward to working with you.” You shook her hand and smiled. The flashing lights of the dance floor blinding you for just a moment. You wished you were dancing instead of working.

“Same here! Now let's get down to the plan. We’ve got a good line up tonight, I’ve got everyone lined up by group size, with yours being the smallest we will have your guys go last.” She scanned the clipboard in her hands. “Have them here in an hour please! I better get going, the rugby team is next and they have a lot of the team here! Ciao Y/N.” She made everything sound easy enough, but the hard part was rounding the boys up.

The music was booming, and the vibrations went through your body like an electric current. You wanted to dance so bad, but you remind yourself you have things to attend to. You try to spot the boys in the sea of people. You went to the food bar first but it looks like Hinata and Bokuto attacked it already considering there was nothing left. You began to walk towards the dance floor and heard the ‘cupid shuffle’ start playing. It was an iconic dance song, and a fun one to get a crowd going. People began to line up and make room to dance. You notice the tips of Bokuto’s hair, Hinata was on his right and Atsumu was on his left. You needed to reach them before the song really kicked in but It was too late.

“Just in time Y/N!” Bokuto beamed down at you.

“Guys we need to get lined up. Plus we still have to grab Sakusa.” You semi yelled over the music.

“Come on Y/N one song won’t kill ya, well get rounded up quick after this okay?” Atsumu wrapped an arm around Bokuto and Hinata. “Now get beside me, you always mix your left and right up.” He wasn't lying, you loved to dance but sometimes became uncoordinated.

“Fine.” You accepted defeat and got beside Atsumu, you took the chance to check him out. He looked so good in his suit, he had a grey tux that fit him like a glove. The white shirt underneath was unbuttoned and his tie left loose around his throat. He was too pretty for his own good. The music finally reached the start of the shuffle, and it pulled you from your thoughts. You followed the music with the rest of these boys in perfect sync. Tsumu nudged you in the right direction every now and then, but no one could see his hand lingering on your side. You smiled from ear to ear, it felt so good to dance some stress away and it felt even better to be so close to Atsumu. You watched his smooth movements, he was calculated on the court and on the dance floor. You could tell he was catching the eyes of women besides yourself. But right now it was you dancing next to him and that's all that mattered. The song came to an end and everyone tried to catch their breath.

“Okay now let's go get Omi.” You lead them out of the dance crowd and toward where Sakusa was. You find him exactly where you left him. He had an intense aurora surrounding him. If looks could kill you would be six foot under right now.

“Omi It's time to go lineup, are you ready?” You asked and he nodded his head. “Follow me guys.” You lead them to the side of the stage.

“So who’s going first?” Hinata asked nervously. You could only pray he wouldn’t puke on stage.

“Hmm good question, lets have Bo go first, then you, then Omi and Tsumu last.” You felt nervousness creep on you, this was really about to happen.

“Y/N you really saved the best for last hmm.” Atsumu flipped his hair dramatically. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Do I have to take my mask off?” Sakusa gave you a pleading look.

“Whatever is comfortable with you. I’ve put you through enough,” Sakusa sighed in relief at your words.

“Okay now, make sure to make a good impression and run these rich ladies pockets up.” You smacked your hands together. “I better get going, remember I’m counting on you guys.” You gave them one last thumbs up.

You got a seat in the front so you could take some pictures of the boys. You were definitely going to get some good ones for the teams Insta. You know what the fans want and you feed them. You were to caught up in getting your phone ready you didn’t notice someone sit next to you.

“Hey Y/N.” Osamu adjusted himself beside you.

“Oh. Hey Osamu! Your onigiri was a hit tonight I heard.” Too bad you didn’t get any, you thought.

“They paid me good for catering tonight, I wanted to make sure it was the best. I even had Tsumu come and try new recipes. He ate so much I thought I'd end up taking him to the ER.” He chuckled. You knew Atsumu loved his brother's cooking. “But enough about that airhead. You looked a little sad earlier when I saw you walking around, Is something wrong?”

“Everything is fine, I’m just stressed. Plus I want to dance and can’t.” Your hands fell to your lap in defeat.

‘Why can’t you dance? Are you hurt?” He gave you a concerned look.

“No I’m fine.” You smiled up at the twin. “I have to take pictures of the boys with their dates and make sure everything goes smoothly. Plus my dance partner will be taken anyway.” You let out a laugh to hide your disappointment. You really wanted to dance with Atsumu, but he will have fun with whoever gets him.

“Oh I see.” He seemed to have a small smirk on his face. “It looks like it’s starting.” The lights of the stage turned on and an upbeat song came on.

“Welcome to the annual Valentines day date auction! We are so glad you all could come out and join us. We have a great line up or should I say roster. This year our theme was sport team singles! Ladies if you plan on bidding tonight just raise your hand when you see the man of your dreams. Shall we get started?” The announcer said hyping up the crowd of women young and old. Neither your or Osamu paid any attention to the stage, instead you made small talk and showed him embarrassing pictures of Atsumu. Your favorite one being his face pressed up against an airplane window fast asleep. You sat beside him on that flight and ended up falling asleep on his shoulder. You remember him covering you up with his blanket at one point, he was a sweetheart when he wanted to be. Time flew by and it was finally time for the boys to get on stage.

“Next up we have the MSBY volleyball team!” Bokuto was called up, you got some good pictures of him flexing and just being his goofy self. Hinata came on stage and was more collected than you thought he would be. Sakusa came out and was stiff as a board the whole time, but you wouldn't complain considering he was kind enough to even come. And now it was Atsumu’s turn. You saw him walk on stage and your stomach began to feel like a merry go round. His wavy hair bounced with every confident step he took, he was hot and he flaunted it. Your eyes were glued to him, and once he found you in the crowd his eyes locked onto yours. He winked right at you and gave you one of his shit eating grins. You felt the embarrassment creep up on you, your attention went to your phone to take pictures of the cocky setter.

“I wonder what poor soul will get Tsumu.” Osamu stuck his tongue out at his brother.

“Hopefully someone who can put up with him, and keep up with his erratic dancing.” You laughed out. If you were being honest you wished you were the ‘poor soul’.

“I only know one person who fits that description.” Osamu smirked at his brother

“What?” You looked up at him confused. “Who?”

“Alright for 175,000 yen, going once , twice...” You eyed Osamu and he reached his hand out and tickled your side, causing your arm to shoot straight up in the air.

“We are now up to 180,000 yen! Going once, twice, and sold! That concludes the auction! We hope you all have a wonderful night and a Happy Valentine’s Day.” Astumu gave you one last smile before exiting the stage. You were still in a state of shock as the stage lights dimmed.

“I know what yer thinking Y/N, but it will be easier if you go talk to the dumbass. He’s a watin for ya.” Osamu got up and left you in a state of shock. You stood up quick and made a beeline towards the large crowd of athletes. You could feel your heartbeat pick up the closer you got. You just had to know why.

“Y/N over here!” You heard Hinata’s familiar voice over the crowd. You made your way to him and noticed the rest of the team standing with him. You wanted to congratulate everyone before you interrogated Atsumu.

“You guys did so well! I’m proud.” You smacked Bokuto and Hinata on the back. “Your dates should come get you soon, remember to have fun and be kind to them!” Sakusa was standing nervously against the wall, you hope someone tame got him. You looked over at Atsumu and he mouthed ‘Let’s go to the lobby.’ You nodded your head and you left the team to find out what was up. He led you through the crowd and into the empty lobby.

“I hope you're not mad at me Y/N, truth is I had something planned for you this Valentine’s Day, I wanted to surprise you, but we ended up having to do this which ruined my plans. Kinda.” Your eyes widened at his words. “You may be the team's manager and I may be the setter. But tonight let’s just be Y/N and Atsumu. You won me fair and square so either way you're stuck with me.”

“Okay, I’d like that actually. But I still have to check on the other every now and then.” You felt your heart rate pick up again. “But I have to know, who paid for you really?”

“Samu did. He was going to give most of his earnings back to the charity anyway.. I didn’t want just some girl beside me tonight, I wanted my girl. So after some begging he agreed to do it. But In return I must refer to him as the superior twin for the rest of the year.” Atsumu had you dumbfounded. You would have to thank Osamu later.

“Tsumu what do you mean by ‘my girl’?” Your knees felt like jelly. You knew what he meant, but you needed to hear it.

“Exactly what I said. I think we both know about each other's feelings. I love you more than Omi loves flu shots and lysol.” This was the oddest declaration of love, but it still made your heart melt.

“That makes you mine too, right?” He nodded his head and began to rummage through his pockets.

“Yes It sure does darlin’. I’m glad to get that off my chest. I got you a little something, close your eyes and hold your hand out.” You closed your eyes and felt his hands clasp something around your hand. “And open.” You looked down at the tennis bracelet you’ve been eyeing for a long time.

“Tsumu how did you..” You were at a loss for words, the bracelet was something you’ve been saving for. It was a pretty bracelet with a pretty big price tag. You couldn't help but smile.v

“When we all went to the mall a few months back I went to find you and saw you trying it on at the jewelry store. You looked sad when the cashier put it back in the case. As soon as you left the store I went right in and bought it. And before you say a thing, that smile you have on is worth every penny I spent.”

“Tsumu thank you, but I’m sorry I didn't get you anything.” You felt guilty but he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Having you with me right now is plenty enough for this fool. Now let’s go check on everyone and get on the dancefloor.” He began to walk you back into the ballroom. You spotted the boys talking to their dates. Bokuto was with a shy curvy girl, she was absolutely stunning and she was definitely his type. You knew he would treat her good. A volleyball player from America bided on Hinata, they were talking about receives. She was a perfect fit for him. Sakusa was with an older woman, she seemed to be very respectful and calm. She mentioned that he reminded her of her late husband. All was well. They left with their dates and now it was time for you and yours to hit the dance floor. Atsumu grasped your hand and led you to the center of the dance floor.

“Tsumu wait.” You stopped a server and downed a glass of champagne.

“Oh my, here we go again.” Astsumu rolled his hazel eyes. You and drinking never ended good.

“I won’t go overboard. Now let's go dance.” You began to speed walk to the dance floor. The DJ was playing some straight up bops, you felt the music take over your body and you began to dance. As soon as ‘hips don't lie’ began to play you both went straight feral. You pulled away from him and swayed your hips side to side. Atsumu's eyes stayed glued to you as you let Shakira guide you. You came to a stop when you felt a lingering presence from behind you. You felt an unfamiliar pair of hands linger over your hips. You felt a wave of panic wash over you but Atsumu was quick to react, he wrapped his strong arms around and spun you away from the creep.

“Don’t even try, she obviously ain’t yours, now screw off asshole.” Astumu held you as close to him as humanly possible while telling the creep off. The smell of his cologne grounded you. The man flipped Tsumu off and disappeared back into the crowd. “Are you okay Y/N?”

“Yes thank you, but I need a drink to loosen back up.” You said eyeing the bar. You swore sobriety tonight, but you were feeling yourself. “But just one.”

“Sureee just one, I know better than that. You’ll be plastered by the end of the night.” He leaned down and whispered in your ear. His thick accent made your hair stand up. You rolled your eyes and led him to the bar. Bokuto was with his date at the bar, he was talking her head off, but she seemed to be interested in what he was saying. You didn’t want to disturb them, but Bokuto called you and Atsumu out.

“Tsumu! Y/N! Drink with us!” Bokuto ordered him and his date another shot.

“I’m not drinking tonight, I’m the DD tonight. But our manager here is feelin bold.” Atsumu waved down the bartender and ordered your favorite drink.

“Don’t get too drunk Bo, Sakusa will kill you if you get sick in his clean car.” You downed your drink. The champagne from earlier already making your head buzz.

“Yes ma’am, now me and this cutie are going back to the dancefloor. Have fun.” Bokuto held the girls hand and guided her back to the dance floor. They looked so cute together.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” Atsumu left you alone at the bar. Bad idea. You waved the bartender down and ordered two shots of tequila. You needed to get loose and the sugary drink he ordered for you wasn’t gonna cut it. You downed the shots and felt the warmth in your cheeks. You ordered one more for safe measure. With the evidence gone Atsumu didn’t suspect a thing when he came back.

“Ready to get back out there?” You nodded and headed back out. You noticed Bokuto was absolutely throwing it back on that girl, she looked so embarrassed but was definitely enjoying it. Sakusa and the older lady were enjoying a conversation at a secluded table. Hinata was hyping up the volleyball girl as she slowly dropped on the dance floor. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

“Now let's get back down to business.” Atsumu spun you around and pulled you close to him. “You have no idea how happy I am right now. I’m so glad your with me ” Atsumu planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Me too, I figured it would be another lonely valentines day, but this was a pleasant surprise.” You kissed him back on his cheek. Under the flashing light you could see the blush spreading on his cheeks.

“You won’t be lonely as long as I’m around Y/N. And that is a genuine Miya promise.” He crossed his heart as the upbeat music came back over the speaker. “Now let's get busy.” You two danced with your bodies hot and heavy against one another. It felt like heaven the way your bodies swayed under the strobe lights. It was like no one else was on the dance floor but you and him. You were fine and then all at once the tequila from earlier hit you like a train. The room was spinning and your spirit was rising. The liquid courage strikes again. You pulled away from Atsumu and stood in front of him.

“Tsumu you are so freakin sexy did ya know that?” You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his neck.

“Well yeah I am pretty sexy, but what’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” He quirked his eyebrow up.

“Tsumu, I had a little extra alcohol while you were in the bathroom. Don’t be mad please, but I’m feeling greatttttt.” You slurred out your words. “But don’t *hic* worry *hic* I can still dance, I’ve got a ton of songs left in me.” You looked up to see three Atsumu’s looking down at you. Between the alcohol running through you veins and the bright lights flashing your head went dizzy. The only thing you remembered before passing out was Atsumu saying something along the lines of “ARE YOU KIDDIN ME Y/N.”

“Next on the stage we have Miya Atsumu, he is the setter for the black jackals! He is single and ready to mingle.” You watched Atsumu walk up on stage, your body felt frozen. You watched him but his eyes never met yours once. You heard girls screaming out his name and bidding on him. But he's yours, right? You were unable to move, unable to speak. You wanted to scream out to him, but no avail.

“Going once, going twice, and sold.” You watched Atsumu jump off the stage and ran to the girl who won him. He picked her up and spun her around. This can't be right, he was yours. He wanted you, why is he going after her? He looked so happy to be with her, but he was yours, he even said it.

“Tsumu why?” Your voice came out finally.

“Your not good enough, you never were.” He began to laugh at you as the girl pulled him by the tie and kissed him on the lips.

“NO!” Your body jolted up. You could feel your heart rate skyrocketing. You realize you had a nightmare, but it felt so real.

“Y/N what wrong? Baby are you okay?” You heard Atsumu's voice but couldn’t make out where it was coming from.

“Tsumu, where are you?” You felt hot tears run down your face. You see a lamp flicker on and spy Atsumu wearing a white fitted shirt and boxers. You realize you are in his bed, you could tell from the sheets and comforter you helped him pick out a few months back.

“Hey, hey It's okay, tell me what's wrong.’ He came over and sat down beside you.

“Tsumu am I enough for you? You could do so much better than me.” You sobbed out, he gave you a confused look.

“You’ve always been enough, I don’t need better when I already have the best. Tell me what has you sayin these things.” He began to rub soothing circles on your back.

“I had a nightmare, you told me I wasn't enough and there was another girl and she kissed you.” Atsumu looked sad as you explained your nightmare to him.

“It was just a nightmare Y/N, yer my one and only. No one even compares to you.” He kissed your tear stained cheek. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Kiss me.” You blurted out, you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. “Tsumu you don’t have t-” Your body fell back on the bed and Astumu hovered above you.

“Ask and you shall receive.” He leaned down and gave a kiss that made you lips tingle. He pulled away and look down on you with a gentle smile on his face. “Better?”

“Umm.. yes.” You lifted yourself back up. “Not to kill the mood, but what happened, how did I get here?”

“You blacked out on me princess. I had to get Bokuto to help drag you out of there and load you in my car. I was going to take you home, but I brought you here to make sure you were alright. No more drinking three shots of tequila back to back, Sakusa saw you and ratted you out.” Atsumu handed you some aspirin and a bottle of water he had on his nightstand.

“Sorry Tsumu.” You lowered your head in shame. You felt guilty for making him go through all the trouble.

“Don’t be, you were kinda cute clinging to me.” He got up from the bed and walked towards his dresser.

“Uh, Tsumu what is this on the floor?” You asked looking at a pile of pillows and blankets scattered beside of the bed.

“That is my makeshift bed, I was going to sleep on the couch, but I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He rummaged through the dresser. “I’ve got some of your spare clothes from the last team sleepover. Do you want to shower?” He handed you the clothes.

“Please.”

The hot water felt like heaven on your tired body. You lather yourself in Atsumu body wash and tried to remember what happened exactly. You can remember Bokuto and Atsumu gilding you to his car at some point. You also remember Sakusa dragging a drunk Hinata to his car, at least you weren't the only one. You remember a little bit of the car ride, Atsumu drove alot smoother thankfully. You stepped out of the shower and dried off. You felt like something was missing. You changed into your clothes and looked into the foggy mirror. You reached up to fix your hair and noticed the tennis bracelet Astumu had given you was missing. You slammed open the bathroom door and ran to Astumu’s bedroom, he was laid back playing on his phone.

“Tsumu my bracelet is missing!” You began to look around the room in sheer panic.

“It's here, I took it off ya when we got here.” He pointed at his nightstand and you see the bracelet shine under the light of the lamp. You grab your chest and sigh with relief.

“Thank God, I thought I had lost it. I would be devastated if I lost the first gift my boyfriend gave me.” You eyes widened when you realized what you said.

“Boyfriend huh? That’s got a nice ring to it.” Atsumu turned his phone off and plugged it into a charger. “Are you ready for bed, my girlfriend?” That did have a nice ring to it. You nodded your head and climbed into his king sized bed. Atsumu went to get back in the floor but you grabbed his wrist.

“I’d feel a lot better if you slept next to me. Please.” You averted your eyes.

“Anything for you, I’m relived you asked really. The floor is not very comfortable.” He lifted the comforter and crawled in beside of you. He kept a distance from you, despite what people may think, he was a true gentleman. You inched you way to his side of the bed and it didn’t go unnoticed. “Your making it obvious you want cuddled, come on over, I don’t bite.” You scooched over and laid your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you securing you in place. Your could hear the soft beating of his heart lulling you to sleep.

“I love you Y/N.” He softly whispered into you ear and gave your forehead a feather light kiss.

“I love you too Tsumu. You’ll be here when I wake up right?” Your eyes struggled to stay open.

“Yes I will, I will always be here. Sweet dreams my pretty girl.” You smiled and slowly fell asleep feeling safe and loved in his arms.

Fin

#Haikyuu Fluff #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #haikyuu angst #msby x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader

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