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jamneuromain · 8 months

Note

Oh hello my dear friend 🥰🥰

Ok, so... For the bingo... Can I have the request?

About the party, it's doesn't matter if it's big no not, fancy or you know, just for friends and family.

But yeah I wish for best friend reader and pre-serum Steve Rogers lol (40s isnot nessasary)

So you live in the same block or just neighbors, and he doesn't like the whole loud pary, so he said he want to leave. Of course you want to go home since you feel bored too.

But when you walk several meters from the party, you suddenly aware that you forget your jacket!! So you just tell Steve that you have to back to the party and that he can go home first.

But, when you rush into the party, take your jacket and said goodbye again to your friends. You found that Steve walk back to the front doors of the party place and waiting for you.

Have a nice day 😊😊💕😊

Hi nana😌❤️❤️ I absolutely love this idea. I might have changed it a bit into Reader looking for Steve to leave, but I think this works with the plot hehehe

Hope you'll enjoy it😘

Spiked Punch

Steve Rogers x You

Warning: Party, cursing

Summary: After two punch and being bored to death at a college party, you decide to find Steve and head home.

A/N: My seventh entry to the bingo challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty. The idiot-part came from an inspiration from @rogerswifesblog/@rogerswifesblog-updates <3

You've never been a party gal.

You hate it when it's hot and smothering in a small space.

You absolutely loathe it when there are loud music and drunken ... people involved. Seeing the drunken frat boys and sorority girls tangled up all together, kissing but looking as if they are about to suck each other's face off... just, eww.

College parties are definitely not for you.

Bucky, on the other hand, is a different human being. Bucky is enjoying the best time of his life, joining the fraternity with a bunch of stupid Greek letters on a T-shirt, partying all night and drinking till he can't tell which room is his own bedroom. That's his jam.

The last time you saw him at this party, roughly fifteen minutes ago, he was holding two sorority girls on his laps, making out with both of them, and to you, this looks like the start of a threesome. So you slipped from one room to another, trying to find Steve.

You came here with Steve. Being (almost) lifelong friend of both Steve and Bucky, you met them when you were four years old.

You don't remember any of that, but your mother told you one of the kids in this neighborhood shoved you to the curb into the traffic. And if it weren't Steve and Bucky who bravely - they are also four, by the way, ran in front of a freight car while the other pulled you to the sidewalk. You would not be still alive at this moment.

Kitchen - living room - hallway - accidentally walking into the library but the frat boys in there are burning book pages to smoke pot - one turn, then another, and you are back where you started, the kitchen.

Christ.

Only two punches and now you're unable to tell if you have entered the door to the left, or if it's the "library" you just passed. You really should have listened to Steve, who heard from his roommate that college parties always have their punch spiked.

Speaking of Steve, you really wished you could be by his side for this party but your friends dragged you away as soon as you showed up, talking about a giant slide at the back of the frat house, connecting the roof to the ground.

It's a miracle that the frat brothers still have their head and their spine intact.

This reminds you that Steve could be at the back of the house - hopefully he wouldn't be catching some sorority's eyes and got pinned to a wall and making out. Not that you wouldn't want him to get a girlfriend. No. You wish the best for him.

Absolutely the best. Which means those dumb girls with only "ten tips of making you lose more weight" in their head are no good for him.

You walk around the house to reach the backyard, where Steve sits on a bench all by himself, the phone in his hand, pending on a messaging interface.

"Hey, ready to go?" You sit down, swinging an arm around his shoulders.

Okay, so maybe you are a little dizzy due to the weird fruit punch. And your arm is a bit too tight around Steve's skinny shoulders. So tight that he leans towards you, nearly banging his head on your shoulders.

He quickly swipes the messaging app away and tucks the phone in his pocket, patting his hand on your back, hesitant and soft, "Yeah, I've been ... I'm thinking the same. Got a lecture tomorrow at 8:30."

You hum in agreement, quickly letting go of his shoulder and raising a big smile, "C'mon."

"And Buck?" Steve shrugs on his large jacket when he gets up from the bench, "should we tell him we're going?"

"Pfft." You tug on the corner of his sleeve, urging him to go, "He's a big boy. He'll be fine."

The image of Bucky tongue-kissing two girls at the same time makes you shiver. Even if you adore Bucky - you adore Bucky and Steve both, it's cringe, watching your friend making out with someone else.

And you rather not know about Bucky's (what he claimed to be - healthy) relationships, although you enjoy gossips as everybody else.

You are on your way back to your dorms. You love it that the three of you don't live far away from one another. A drop by, a visit is so simple when Steve basically lives the building right next to your place, and the frat house Bucky's living is a 10-minute walk away.

Escaping the crowd, you and Steve walk back to your places. Dim, orange streetlamps barely covers the sidewalk as you and Steve head home. Where you and Steve embrace this little peace and quiet that's hard to come by.

"So... uh... I've been texting you just now." Steve starts, awkwardly, clenching his phone in his pocket.

"Texting?" You almost forget about your phone, but surely it's in your back pocket - "Oh shit." You murmur, when your hand reminds you that your back pocket is empty, "Oh shit, my phone!" Your eyes widen in panic, while Steve takes a few more seconds to understand your trouble.

"Did you lost it? Did you bring it there? Did you-"

He looks more anxious than you are.

"I did. I checked my emails before I went inside. I put it..." your voice trails away as you try to remember, "Fuck, I think it's in my jacket. I left it in the cloak room because the house is too warm."

It is five meters away from his place, and you sigh, "Shit. Guess I have to go back and get my jacket. Look, just get inside. I'll text you when I get my phone back, okay?"

"But-"

You didn't wait for his reply before you start to run to the frat house. You hope it isn't too late for your jacket and your phone. You heard there might be pick-pocketing in some of the parties.

After what feels like forever - which is five minutes, you are relieved to find your jacket, your keys, your phone, and everything in your pocket is still intact, right where you left them in the cloak room.

You briefly say goodbye to Bucky on your way out when he's yelling for either Cherry or Cheryl at the door, though his brain is completely toasted by alcohol, and fails to match your face with his memory. You doubt he will even remember this encounter in the morning.

"Idiot." You mutter under your breath, after Bucky shoves past you, now sing-songing that girl's name, clearly way too drunk to remember anything more than the syllable "Cher".

See, that's why you hate people drinking.

As you shrug on your jacket for the chilly night, and pulls out your phone to check your messages again, you almost stumble upon someone standing right in front of you.

"Steve?" Your raise your head from your phone. You have yet to read his messages, finger hovering above the messaging app, but you are too surprised to open them anyways, "What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go back to your dorm?"

It's sweet for him to wanting to accompany you back here, and walk you home again. It really is. And you are glad to see him, even if it means you have to carry an EpiPen and an inhaler all day for him, just in case his ran out.

Steve looks pale. He is pale since he's a kid. His body can't carry enough iron so he has to take supplements to prevent him from worse affects of anemia. He purses his lips into a line, staring at you for a moment, looking sad, "It's Bucky, isn't it?"

"What's about Bucky?" Shoving the phone away, you eye him suspiciously, "Did you eat the mushrooms those sorority girls offer you and start to have visions?"

He gestures to your phone, "It's Bucky. And you don't want to..."

He didn't finish his sentence. Looking at you as if there's something way bigger than this strange conversation he is starting.

"Never mind." He murmurs, kicking a small pebble under his shoes into the grass.

"No?" You elbow his arm, "You're being weird. Spill."

"It's just..." Steve looks frustrated, "you haven't looked right since you saw him kissing. And I can't offer you any ... anything because ... And you saw my message, but don't want to answer directly without..."

"What on earth are you talking about?" You furrow your brows into a knot, "What does Bucky has to do with... whatever you're talking about? With me? And what's the message? And why are you acting strange?"

"You like Bucky!" He blurts out.

You are completely awe-struck. "WHAT?"

"You got upset when he kissed those girls! And then you came to find me asking to go home. And now you want to tell him that you love him -"

"Hold on for a second -" You growl.

"But he's drunk! I know you hate others getting drunk and you still said your goodbyes! Calling him an idiot behind his back just now because he's yelling for those dumb blondes instead of-"

Your blood has just gone cold.

He can't possibly think that you are into that sweet dumb brunet? Bucky has never been the center of your attention. And you only came to this party because Bucky said he invited -

"You're being ridiculous." You huff, barely containing your anger and disappointment as you choose to head home instead of listening to his nonsense.

"I know it's wrong of me to just send you a text and tell you how I feel about you-"

This definitely put a halt to your steps.

"-and I like you and you know Buck. You know who he is and I don't want you getting hurt-" Steve says miserably, almost at a last resort, salvaging what he clearly has ruined. A perfect friendship.

Sure, he likes you. What's not to be liked? Your humor? Your sass? Even you getting mad is cute for him. He couldn't help but say how much he likes you via words, because he's too nervous to say so in person. He should've kept it to himself, even if this means that he would be heart broken watching you smiling and laughing and treat ing him as a friend.

You turn around and take a few steps to him, making him gulp nervously, but still saying out loud, "He's a heart-breaker. We know that. You know that. I love you and I-"

Before you shut his mouth with a kiss.

And bite his plump lower lip.

"Ouch!" He covers his lips with his hand, feeling the swell where you bit him.

"You are a big fucking idiot, Steven Grant Rogers." You retort. The spiked fruit punch encourages you to swing your arms around his neck, as his body remains frozen, "There, happy? Calling you an idiot right to your face?"

"What-"

"Or do you need me to kiss you again to realize that I, in fact, love you back?"

Find my The Slumber Party Present Bingo Challenge here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #skinny!steve #steve rogers fluff #jnmanswers #inbox <3 #writing challenge #the slumber party writing challenge

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

sweet lies (m.)

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, public sex, multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praising, titty sucking, nsfw, toxic megumi, fwb, slight angst, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 and thank you to besties nie and ellie for editing this STOP SHOWING YOUR ANKLES CHIRREN

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Megumi slides your shirt down your shoulder to press kisses on the bare skin. Your head tilted to the side to give him easier access. You hate that you feel so weak around him, your hands gripping his thigh you’re currently straddling, already so breathless from his teasing ministrations.

“You should move back closer to campus,” he mutters at the juncture of your neck, pulling another soft gasp from you the moment his fingers dip inside your damp underwear. You feel him smile at your skin, using his deft fingers to push two of them inside your sopping hole. He pumps them in slowly, teasingly slow, coaxing your arousal to coat his fingers while you grind against his palm, eyes shut tight from the pulling knot in your stomach.

“It’s hard to fuck you when you’re a half-hour drive away.”

You scoff against him and roll your eyes. “I wonder why I got kicked out from the dorms in the first place.” Exactly two weeks ago, Megumi snuck in drunk and horny into your dorms, shaking you awake to get rid of his boner.

It was a sloppy quickie, mostly because he’s eaten brownies and got fuck drunk before stumbling beside your bed. The insensitive idiot left his rum bottle under your bed just as he wobbles back to his frat house, and as if things couldn’t get worse, there was a surprise dorm inspection the next day. Not only did they find cum stains all over your sheets, but your bed also reeked of weed and alcohol, resulting in a quick expulsion from the dorms.

If it weren’t for the help of one of your professors, Gojo-sensei, you wouldn’t have been able to find a decent, cheap apartment. It came with the price of rooming with one of his old acquaintances, a muscular, heavily tattooed guy who seemed to be a few years older than you.

He really wasn’t a bad roommate. Other than the fact he seemed really intimidating, the dude mostly kept to himself, either locked in his room or away for work that you don’t really get to see him that much. His place was decent too, your room bigger than the last, so it was a good deal, but as Megumi said, it’s really hard to fuck around when you’re so far away.

“Not my fault, you’re so weak for me, baby,” he taunts as you tighten around him, his pace increasing with his lips sucking love marks on your skin. You can’t help but snicker at his actions; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous.

But this was Megumi you were talking about – everyone knew he never got jealous.

“I don’t like you here.”

“Aw, sucks for you.”

“I’m serious,” he grips your waist tighter, drawing a drawled-out moan from you. Megumi rubs your clit with his thumb and swallows your moans through open-mouthed kisses, your fists balled into his hoodie. Fuck this, you’re completely aware he’ll never like you the way you like him, but it’s so hard to feel sad about that when he’s knuckle deep inside you and playing you like a violin. As much as you hated him and his pretty face, you have to admit his fingers were fucking magical.

Megumi nips at your lower lip before thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a numbing pace, not taking long until you’re creaming all over his hands. You pant at the orgasm, head falling back into his shoulder.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes and kisses the side of your head, the gesture way too sweet for someone who insisted on a ‘no-strings attached’ sexual relationship. But you don’t complain – this is like a dream come true for you – allowing him to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw instead, his wet hands squeezing your thighs in a possessive grip.

“You should just live with me. I’m not comfortable with the fact you live with a man.”

There’s a trace of jealousy behind his voice that you’d normally swoon at, but he’s pushing you to the edge and fucking around with your feelings so much that you can’t even enjoy the rare moment. You push yourself off him and reach for your discarded shorts on the floor, sliding the material over your legs while Megumi shamelessly stares at your ass behind you, his head resting on his hands.

“Megs, I barely even talk to the guy; he’s always away at work. You’ve really got nothing to worry about,” you tell him, making quick work of tidying your school packets just to ignore his heated gaze. “Besides, you and I aren’t even dating. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You never hold back with your words, huh?”

You shot him a look, an angry glare that should be threatening, but the glint in his eyes just tells you he’s enjoying every second of it. “You like it.”

“Hmm, maybe I do,” Megumi tugs you back to the bed, effortlessly, as he flips you under him. In this position, he’s situated right between your bodies, hands clasped against one another. He’s absolutely stunning, bathed in the sliver of the moonlight, in your bed, no less. You’re a flurry of emotions – stuck between wanting to fuck him and kissing him, and then scream at him to let him know he should stop playing with your heart.

Megumi’s eyes darken as he traces over your silhouette, watching the way your chest falls heavily at his touches. He uses one hand to trace the tip of his finger from your breast down to your clothed core, a smirk painting his lips when you buck your hips up at the contact.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.

“Just promise me you’re not letting others see your pretty pussy okay?” he tugs your shorts to the side, tongue darting out to lick at his lips at the sight of your glistening folds. You’ve lost count of the times he’s made you cum tonight with just his fingers; the raging hard-on hidden behind his sweatpants is proof that he’s quite different today by letting you get fuck-drunk on him first. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping you so helplessly wrapped around his finger, fucking you good enough that no one else comes second to him, and he knows this. He sees this from the desire pooled in your eyes.

Megumi scoots down lower to stare at your pussy, which is already embarrassing since you’re so wet down there. He simply sighs at your bare cunt before him, using two fingers to pull the lips apart, followed by a groan at the apparent slick. “This is all mine.”

In your lust-filled haze, you scrunch your eyebrows and sneer, “How about you mind your own business?”

“The fuck did you just say?” he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. “You’re mine, babe. Haven’t I fucked you enough to drill in that in your pretty little head?” Megumi doesn’t waste his time diving straight to your eager, awaiting core. Your hands fly down to tug at his hair as you grind your hips to his face, legs weak from his lips wrapped tightly around your clit. “You know I’ll get mad if you touch anyone else.”

“Fuck off, Megumi,” you spat out, “We’ve been fooling around for a year, and you still refuse to date me every time I ask you out officially. Listen, I understand you’re not ready for that kind of relationship, so you could at least respect that you don’t get the exclusivity of keeping me all to yourself.” Truly, this rebellion is so uncalled for and unexpected. The moment you had your eyes on him and made it your life’s mission to win him over, not once had you complained that he never wanted to take things a step further. But it’s been too long, too fucking long, and too many no baby’s already – your pride was beyond crushed. It was about time you set the boundaries this time, and you quiver around his skillful tongue, strong and firm as you rasp, “I’ll fuck whoever I want.”

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You love me,” Megumi pulls away from your clit with an audible pop, his face glistening from the smeared juices all over his cheeks. However, his eyes are narrowed, almost as if he’s scrutinizing you. You can’t focus on the fact he denied you of your orgasm because he’s looking at you so seriously, only to tilt his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Maybe I do, but are you deserving of it?” you push his head away and ignore the aching in your chest. Megumi shuffles close to you, pulling you in for another cuddling session before you hide under the sheets, making it clear you were not to be touched anymore. “Go home, Megs. I’m tired.”

In all honesty, you want him to stay. You want him to fight harder to win your approval back. He’s not a big cuddler, more of the type to pass out beside you after he’s gotten his own orgasm, but you’ve been so sure that maybe he might be different today. Under the sheets, your lip trembles in anticipation, eyes blinking wide at the dark silhouette outside your metaphorical shield. But as Megumi playfully slaps your ass, his warmth leaving the bed, you’re not really surprised.

He never stayed the night before – why would he do that now?

Silly girl, you chastised yourself.

“Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” you hear him scuffle for his shoes outside, a smile evident in his voice as his words float around the silence of your apartment. “Wear my favourite set like a good girl for me?”

“Go away!”

Megumi’s laughter echoes all the way to where you curl yourself into a ball. You hate that his laughter alone makes your heart skip a beat, even if it doesn’t carry any affection behind then. “See you then, baby,” is all he says before the door slams shut, leaving you alone to your thoughts and insecurities all over again.

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

You’ve really hit rock bottom; that’s the only explanation for your actions. Megumi was coming over in a few hours, unsurprising that he chooses 3 AM of all times. Not only did it mean his frat brothers would be asleep, but it also meant that his other side bitches would assume he’s doing the same. You know, of course, you fucking know you’re not the only one, but it didn’t hurt any less.

The pain just keeps getting worse every time you think of him, said thoughts always comprised with your shirt trapped between your teeth and your hands down your pants. There’s no denying you’re addicted to him, though being addicted to a never-ending heartbreak was a different story.

A story which you’re not ready to find out yet, so you dress up in your sexiest dress and take the nearest cab, heading to a place where you definitely shouldn’t be.

Two more hours before Megumi arrives. Two more hours before you fall into that endless cycle of fucking and him leaving you alone, promising he’ll be back tomorrow, before it all repeats and traces back to square one. He’s not going to stop, and neither are you, so where was any of this supposed to go now? He doesn’t want you, not in that way, that very much is clear – so why was it so hard to let go of him?

Deep down at the back of your mind, you know your answer. It’s because, like the lovesick fool you are, you’re still hoping that maybe someday he’ll look at you the way you look at him.

Fuck it, is all you think of as you flash the bouncer your ID, not missing the way his eyes fall down your tits that are so close to popping out of your dress a minute longer than welcomed. Snatching your card away from him, you push against the crowd, immediately regretting coming here as the loud thumping of music and stench of sex and alcohol washes over your senses.

You make a beeline for the empty bar, save for the bartender who had his back turned to you as he wipes the glasses over.

You clear your throat to make your presence known. The first thing you see is a broad back, thick lines of dark tattoos outlined even in his white button-up shirt. He places the glasses down and moves expertly before you, sliding shot glasses next to others before procuring a drink out of nowhere, a greeting about to leave his lips when you both make eye contact.

The drink stays still on his hands, blinking for a moment at your equally stupefied face before he says, “It’s you.”

“S-Sukuna,” you greet back, smiling at your roommate. You’ve barely seen the guy the past few weeks other than sleepy good morning’s, and I’ll take the trash out tonight before both of you disappeared into your own worlds.

Sukuna is...well, you don’t know, exactly. It’s not like he’s around much for you to make a proper judgment of, but he’s a pretty nice roommate, filling up the fridge whenever you guys run out of beer. There were times he nods at you as a greeting before leaving for work, too, leaving you alone at the house from midnight all the way to the morning. Other than thinking your roommate is pretty unique from his face tattoos and roguish handsomeness that contrasts his rather frequent sleepy mumbles, you’ve failed to realize he could actually be like a normal human. Seeing him stand before you, his forearms lined with veins and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, taut waist emphasized by a black vest, you swallow audibly.

He’s entirely different from the guy you often see passed out on the couch, but it’s a welcomed sight, nonetheless.

Sukuna’s actually...pretty hot.

Hiding the thumping of your heart – whether out of nervousness or it’s just trying to match the beat of the music – you beam up at him, eyes glossed over with curiosity as he reciprocates with a more mischievous grin.

If he’s easily read your mind that you are indeed attracted to him, he makes no comment about it, focusing on hearing your voice over the music instead.

He leans over to you, not pulling away even as your lips faintly graze his ear. Fuck, he’s got piercings too. You greedily drink in his masculine scent, thankful that the music thumping is so loud he won’t hear the frenzy mess inside your ribcage.

“I didn’t know you worked here. Heck, I didn’t know you were a bartender, but I guess the irregular sleep patterns make sense somehow.”

“What did you think I was, sweetheart?”

His deep voice reverberates all the way down to your toes, his throaty chuckle hoarse. “I-I don’t know,” you pull away nervously, blinking up at him way too innocently. “A gangster, to be honest,” you blurted out. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, and you immediately raise your hands beside your head as you mull over how offensive your words might’ve been. “I don’t mean anything offensive by it, I swear! It was just my first impression!”

“First impressions are usually false. Anyway. It’s fine,” he shrugs, resuming his task of wiping over the glasses.

His hands were so big, his fingers long and slender...your attention is drawn to the adept manner of how he wipes the cloth using the tip of his finger, reaching behind him to get another glass, all without keeping his eyes off of yours. It leaves much room to muse about what else he could do with those hands, and you squirm at your seat, opting to look at his face instead since that would be more polite than eye-fucking his hands.

Sukuna smirks, that cunning twinkle in his eyes matching the dim lights of the bar. Somehow, you suddenly feel so lightheaded.

“If it makes you feel better, I thought you were a shy girl at first, but your boy toy brings a different side of you every time he comes around.”

You squeak in embarrassment, “You’re home by then?!”

“Only sometimes,” he reassures with a laugh. “But I’ve heard enough,” Right. He’s older and definitely more experienced than your sexual escapades with Megumi – this must be nothing new to him by now, and yet, your skin flushes heated. “Don’t look too flustered, sweetheart. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of that,” he nods at you, “You don’t look very happy with him, though.”

“Tch, now you’re assessing my relationship status?”

“I don’t have to,” he shrugs, the gesture so damn reassured. Chuckling at your apparent frown, Sukuna shakes his head to himself. “It’s written all over your face you’re not satisfied with something. You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling good in the first place.”

“How much have you heard?”

“Oh, I don’t care about how you scream his name. That’s none of my business,” he grumbles under his breath rather bitterly – but that could just be the music messing with you. Sukuna holds your gaze as he sets the final glass down before you, his elbows languidly resting on the counter that separates you both. You’re left staring at him in wonder, watching the way he pours the drink right in front of you, the movement of his lips so intoxicating and even erotic you nearly didn’t hear him say, “But as your roommate, I wish you’d stop inviting him around and just kick him out already. He doesn’t like you, you know.”

He doesn’t like you. Megumi doesn’t like you – you know that already.

Glare deepening at your surprisingly nosy roommate, you take the glass from him and down it in one go. Sukuna’s brows shot up in awe, arms crossed against his puffed-out chest as you slam the glass down.

You were fuming.

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” he answers without skipping a beat, “But we men, we understand each other,” You open your mouth to retort, silenced by Sukuna’s finger pressing against your lips. You freeze at the contact, and Sukuna makes use of your state, continuing right where he left from.

“Listen, take it from me as free advice. I’ll even put your drink on the house.”

Really, nothing is stopping you from biting off this guy’s finger, but he looks like he knows something you don’t that you just choose to keep your mouth shut.

Satisfied at your decision, Sukuna smiles sweetly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture puts you under his spell, and he lingers there a little longer, massaging the lobes of your ears before he pulls back just as fast, almost as if he never touched you in the first place.

You fight back the urge to huff.

Why were men so complicated? One moment, they were hot, then cold the next. You would just never get it.

“That guy you’ve been mooning over for who knows how long? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. You’re just someone who warms his cock every now and then, but I guarantee he’s thinking about someone else in his head when he’s with you,” he announces straightforwardly, not giving you the time to recover before he shrugs like his words didn’t just slap you in the face. “Just call quits on him, sweetheart. There’s really no need to waste such a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying – there’s plenty of fish in the sea?” he pushes another drink to you, “Drink up and loosen a little. With a face and body like that, you’ll find someone better soon.”

“I highly doubt I can find someone better when all everyone sees is my appearance.”

“I don’t,” he hinted with dark eyes, “But I assure you it might be what people see first. You do have a face of an angel; men are into that shit.”

Taking the drink from him with a loud sigh, you feel yourself weaken. You bury your head in your hands, replaying all the memories you’ve had with Megumi. It’s foreseeable that almost all of them consisted of you two fucking, nothing but a faint memory of two where Megumi actually cared enough to perform aftercare. The thought makes you wince; he really is an ass, but you’re also so hopelessly infatuated with him that you refuse to acknowledge the truth.

“Megs and I...we’re just complicated, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I swear!” your defenses are hopelessSukuna’s knowing smirk, the man holding back a snigger from your silent rage. “Besides, maybe his disinterested nature is what made me attracted to him in the first place. I like the mystery. It’s not bad for a girl to enjoy searching for answers every now and then.”

“Except he’s already given you a concrete no, and you’re the only one still hanging onto him,” he reminds you. At your dropped jaw, Sukuna has the audacity to wink. That motherfucker –“Pressed a button, kitten?” he pats your head, leaving you to be even more riled up. “Don’t be sad. It’s not like he’s the only guy who can make you feel good.” As if a light bulb went up in his head, Sukuna hid his smile by turning his back to you, pretending to be engrossed in the drinks all laid out in front of him. But even with his face obscured from your view, his words rang thick and clear: “In fact, I bet you your cute ass someone else can change your former perspective on what pleasure really is.”

“Yeah, like who?” you snorted sarcastically, “You?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he faces you, absolutely shameless as he eyes your cleavage. Sukuna clenches his jaw at the tempting view before him, sliding his gaze back to yours to look for the answers in your face. “If you want a demonstration, that is.”

Sukuna hasn’t really touched you or even spoke explicitly, but you’re breathing hard anyways, subconsciously clawing the countertop.

You don’t know if it’s your voice or his that’s ringing your ears, the words what’s holding you back? the last thing you hear before grabbing him by the collar, leaning over the counter to taste his lips. Sukuna smiles at the kiss, his large hands cupping your face in them. His thumb traces circles over your jaw as you greedily suck on his lip, uncaring that you’re making out with your roommate in a public place.

As if remembering that he’s still at work, Sukuna pulls away for a moment, diving in for one last peck that has you giggling adorably. Sukuna’s grin grows wider at your flushed cheeks, snapping his fingers at someone from a distance. “Geto, break!”

The guy who must be Geto popped his head out of the backroom, frowning at Sukuna’s words when his gaze lands on you and the not-so-subtle needy grip you have on Sukuna’s collar. His mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape before he gives a thumb up, disappearing afterward.

That’s all Sukuna needs before he’s leaving the counter, breathing in your panicked squeals as he picks you up, your legs flailing to wrap around his.

You’re giggling and laughing all the way to the back of the club, your hands tugging at his undercut and his own squeezing at your ass. Sukuna kicks the door of the restroom open, which is thankfully clean (you made the right choice choosing a luxurious club), settles you down before him, and locking the stall.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands tugging off your dress and scowling at it as if it’s offensive. “Calm down,” you tease him, “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were a fucking tease the whole night,” he glares at the lacy cups of your bra, his breathing laboured as he cups them. You throw your head back until it thumps at the door, teeth muffling the moans that threaten to erupt. Sukuna unclasps the material in one swift movement, surprising with just how many times he’s done this before. “Fucking gorgeous tits – why the fuck does your boy toy not want to keep you to himself?”

“He’s – oh fuck,” you scrape Sukuna’s scalp, his tongue wrapping around the swollen bud. He caresses the other one not to leave it unattended, and he’s grinding you against the door so hard, his dick poking at your dress leaving very little to the imagination.

Sukuna chuckles at your broken response, rutting his hips in such a sensual manner you didn’t think he was capable of. “You were saying?”

You glare at him from under your chin, but he can’t take you seriously while he’s sucking at your tit like a child. This man is brave enough to nip it with his teeth, the sting making you hiss and buck against him. “He’s possessive,” you breathe through your mouth, a little in disbelief you’re casually thinking about him while Sukuna gets down on his knees. “He wants me to be exclusive with him, but he’s free to fuck who he pleases.”

Sukuna rubs both palms in front of his face as if preparing to devour a meal, which he’ll do so soon enough. He pushes your dress and bunches it at your waist, tugging your underwear to the side before he groans. The sound is so deep and masculine, so utterly frustrated for some reason you can’t understand.

“Now that’s unfair,” he mumbles absentmindedly, peppering your pelvis with kisses. The feverish touch of his warm lips on your already burning skin has you clutching at the door, feeling your legs weaken.

His eagerness and distrait acts of body worship drive you crazy. Megumi is good at making you feel desired and fuckable – that much you know from his habits of pushing his pants down at pretty much anywhere as long as you were around, claiming you’re a walking ‘boner trigger.’ Sukuna, on the other hand, was a lot more patient and attentive to his movements, taking the time to make you feel you were more than just a body and a hole. It’s odd, hella fucking odd, because this man is older than you and a friend of your professors, but did you care? No. Did you want him to fuck your brains out in a public restroom? Fuck yes.

A wanton moan paints the wall as Sukuna slides your thong off just above your knee, his eyes closed as he buries his cheek in it. You look down with wide eyes, hands grabbing at nothing and everything at the same time. From the looks of it, he’s sniffing your sex, the sight so outright erotic that you only moan louder.

How was it possible to be this much turned on?

By the time he’s opened his eyes, his entire demeanour’s shifted. Gone was the enthusiastic and sly bartender, now replaced with a much more animalistic entity residing beside it.

Before you could make yourself comfortable, Sukuna hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of your heel grazed against the tight walls of the stall. He licks a flat stripe from your hole that clenches around nothing, moving upwards in such a passionate, languid manner he’s making you forget you’re literally in a fucking restroom. Your breasts heave up and down from how you’re struggling to breathe, his tongue pushing past through the tight ring of resistance until he’s plunged through your core. You wobble above him, remaining upright only by his arm pushing your back flat on your under boob.

Sukuna slurps at your cunt yearningly, the hums he gives every now and then, making your core vibrate. You grind your pussy on his face, the black marks lined on his face glistening.

He moves to suck at your clit, transitioning after each beat to slurping the swollen bud and kissing your lips as if he was making out with it. You’re sure you’re making a mess on his face, but he doesn’t give you time to feel embarrassed about it. He spreads your legs further until your muscles ache from the stretch, the pain accompanied by your stomach tightening.

“S-Sukuna, oh, oh yeah,” you bang your fist on the door, his smug chuckles sending you over the edge. Your pupils blow wide as you feel the impending orgasm weigh down on you heavily, about to send you into overdrive by his tongue swiping at your lips, teasing you to give it to him more, give it to him harder. Turning your head down to warn him you’re coming, the words die on your throat because he’s already looking at you, his cheeks and nose smothered with your shining slick, and the brat is smirking. “Shit, you’re a little—” Sukuna cuts you off by generously sucking your clit one more time, pulling the muscle taut just to show you that it’s rolling between his lips. It looks fucking insane and filthy that you come right there and then.

Your orgasm is so strong that you actually slip from your heels. A scream from you is knocked back into you just as fast, Sukuna moving quick and graceful in one fluid movement. He catches your leg and shoves you against the door, gripping at your hips until you’re bending forward, ass perked, and wiggling just for him.

For a split second, you’re sure you hear the unbuckling of a belt, but it all fades in your clouded mind.

Sukuna enters you in one thrust, the sensation of being filled up so soon rendering you speechless. Literally absolutely silent, palms flat on the door and tongue lolled out, all the burning in your body focused on your centre.

He releases a grunt at finally being inside your plush, warm walls. Sukuna allows you to get used to his length for a solid minute, both of you catching your breath in the meantime. Your tits are sprawled out, and you’re a shaky mess, feeling nothing less of dirty yet so aroused that you can’t do anything about it. Sukuna thrusts in slowly at first, and that’s when you feel the size difference between him and Megumi. Megs was definitely blessed in the dick department, and he’s always been so cocky about it, but goddamn, Sukuna was beyond huge.

You think you could cum again just from him filling you up. He was stretching you out so well that he leaves behind a faint burn, making you feel as if it’s your first time all over again – all for the good reasons.

He soon begins to set his pace, one of his hands tugging at your ponytail so he could see your glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. Sukuna scoffs at your fucked out state, too cock-hungry even to form coherent sentences. His length is slipping past your folds in such a tantalizing, delicious state, the prominent veins of his cock kissing the bumpy ridges of your walls. He was right – you’re definitely changing your perspective on pleasure because you don’t think you’ve felt this good in your life.

With Megumi, it was mostly always about his own release. With Sukuna, he’s making sure you get to feel inch by luscious inch slipping out of you before he slides them back in, his deep moans the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, kissing you sideways sloppily. Sukuna reaches the edges of your lips but licks at your skin anyway. His canines revealed to graze at your skin. It’s so animalistic, so carnal, and he’s fucking you with such primal need that you forget everything you once knew about sex. “Your pretty pussy is drooling for cock, sweetheart. Such a dirty little thing, taking me like this.”

Now, this was lust as its purest form, the rhythm of his hips so sinful you’ve lost faith in everything but how he’s making you feel.

The walls are pounding with the bass boosting outside, but soon even the loud volume of the synthesized music is drowned by your whimpers. Sukuna lets go of your hair to place his hands on your hips. If he was dominant before, he only encourages you to scream his name louder, realizing that he was still being nice seconds ago, but now he’s the one controlling you.

He pounds roughly into you until you’re crying, your drool dribbling from your lips and small patches dropping to the floor. It’s the same with your cunt. You’re so wet that you can feel squirts of cum staining his pants and your legs. Sukuna doesn’t stop praising you on how you’re so perfect, how your cunt is the tightest he’s ever fucked, and now he gets why your boy toy could never really let you go. In the middle of it all, he manages to slip in a comment that maybe Megumi’s dick isn’t big enough to stretch you out because you’re wrapped around him like a vice, to which you respond that he’s just massive.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he agrees cockily, eyes narrowed at where his length kept being swallowed by your pussy. “I’m fucking destroying you, sweetheart. You’ll be broken by the end of this, fuck.”

His words are like ambrosia you’re getting drunk on, the filthiness of his mouth fuelling your desire. Your body heats up at the same time that familiar tingling tightens in your stomach, and you blindly stretch your arm out behind him. Sukuna easily reads your mind and takes your hand, looping his fingers with yours. His palm is right above your knuckle, and the angle hurts your arm so bad you cry harder.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him and snap your hips back to meet his dick thrust by thrust, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he leans down for a quick peck at your hand, increasing his pace as he twitches inside you. Sukuna is thrown off rhythm by the way you grip down on his dick harder, his breath stuttering as a result. You wrap your fingers around him as your second orgasm that night crashes down onto you in waves, his cock on the brink of being spent from how you’re milking him.

He pounds deep and slow into you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt that he’s losing his mind, basically in the same state as you are now. You’re panting and sweating, cursing at each thrust, and he stills for a moment, pulling out so fast that you wince at the emptiness. Sukuna pumps his dick with his free hand and shoots his load onto your back, his moans guttural and hoarse. You grimace at the warm cum now coating your back because there’s no way you’re using your dress to wipe that away.

Sukuna chuckles at your silence, probably noting in the way you frown at him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair, his cock growing hard despite releasing a huge load. “Next time, I’ll cum in your mouth. I want to see you swallow me like a good girl.”

“Next time?”

You think you’re so sly by scoffing at him, but Sukuna isn’t stupid. He sees the way you light up at his implications, and he walks closer to you, a hand wrapped around your throat before you pull you flush against his chest. You gasp at the lack of air, blindly patting behind you, but your hand only grazes at his cock, which twitches excitedly at the contact.

“Yeah, next time,” he affirms with a low growl, licking from your jaw down to your neck. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and you’ve never felt this sexy in your life that you soon become on par with him, pussy clenching around nothing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not leaving unless I’ve changed your mind,” he teases the base of your throat to squeeze it tighter, the swift movement of him filling you once more escalating to a tenfold. Your struggle to breathe causes you to clamp down on him hard and Sukuna’s chuckles falter into a quick inhale that’s so satisfying to witness. “What do you think? Still need more demonstrations?”

“Yes,” you choke out. Sukuna’s victorious and award-winning smile is hidden at the sweaty column of your neck where he leaves little kisses in its wake, ones that soon turn into something of a harsh bite. “Yes, please, show me more. Need you, need you so bad, you fuck me better than he does.”

Sukuna does more than show you that night. He makes you feel a thousand more nerves set on fire until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. After all, what better way to change someone’s mind than to mess with it on the inside?

In the end, when it comes down to it, your lies were way too sweet – and he was too addicted to make you stop.

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. xxxv - NYOOOOOOM

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??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

Wooyoung and Yeosang were rushing you into the frat as quick as they could. Wooyoung carrying your bag and Yeosang practically hauling you away.

When you entered the frat, you could see that every single one of them is sitting around the living area. Some were seated on the couch as some were on the floor.

At the sight of you entering, their eyes lit up and smile bloom on their faces automatically.

"Is this an intervention?" you asked, walking slowly to where they are, slightly wary of the situation as they would rarely gather together to talk. More often than not, all communication happens in the group chat.

"Because I swear I'll return all your shirts and hoodies," you said, scrunching your nose in nervousness.

Mingi stood up and glomped onto you, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He had to hunch because he's way taller than you. "You can take our clothes any time you want, this is not an intervention," he mumbled into your skin before detaching and planting a soft peck on your forehead, "missed you," he grinned.

You instinctively held onto Mingi's ring and pinkie as he led you to sit on the available spot at the left end of the U-shaped couch.

"So? Who wants to start?" Yunho asked, breaking the initial building silence.

The boys looked at each other for a bit before their eyes slowly zeroed in on Hongjoong. At the sudden attention, Hongjoong's eyes widened for a split second before scoffing, "one of you better start because I'm not doing it," he said, crossing his arms.

"But you're the leader," Yeosand stated matter-o-factly with a straight face. The others nodding along, agreeing to what Yeosang said.

Hongjoong grumbled at the fact that they're ganging up on him, using his own title against him. This is one of the rare few times he regretted having his title and even using it to his own advantage sometimes. The K in karma stands for Kang Yeosang, it seems.

You pursed your lips, still nervous and slightly uneasy. Historically, when a person is called by a group or collective, it was never for good reasons.

"So, (Y/N)," Hongjoong started, looking directly at you as his fingers fiddled slightly with the rings in his fingers, "do you like being with us?" he asked.

You visibly swallowed the lump in your throat. You couldn't help but feel like they're kicking you out, or the board is making them kick you out, that's the only reasonable explanation to the opening question Hongjoong threw at you, right?

Unconsciously, you leaned closer to Mingi for security and held his fingers tighter. Mingi thought nothing much of it. "Well, I like you guys like a lot, and living with you all has been great! More than great, actually, I never really had a roommate and initially the thought of having 8 roommates scared me especially because well you're guys and guys tend to be dirty and all, but it turns out you guys are freaking awesome, and I couldn't ask for better roommates honestly," you rambled, grinning awkwardly at them.

Most of them had a look of confusion on their faces. They didn't know why you were talking about your living situation when they're obviously asking about something much more substantial than that.

"(Y/N), sweetie," Seonghwa called out, "we're... glad that you're happy living with us here and we honestly wouldn't want it any other way," "wait, so this is not about anyone having a problem with me living here for quite some time now?" you asked, cutting Seonghwa off.

Wooyoung gasped loudly at your question, "no, it's not, sweetie, believe me! Who'd make you feel this way?" he then snapped his head to San who's sitting next to him, "was it you!?" he asked dramatically, holding onto the collars of San's hoodie, "fuck you, if anyone would've made her uncomfortable, it would've been you with your incessant claim on her as her boyfriend which is as true as Yeosang being able to pop unicorn horn from his ass!" San retorted back, grabbing onto Wooyoung's collars as well.

Seonghwa and Yunho immediately jumped up and separated the two, sitting them in next to Jongho and Yeosang who had been snickering at the childish argument.

Once they both calmed down, they all shifted their attention back to you. "We weren't talking about our living situation at all, we're kind of... needing to ask you something important..." Yunho said, trailing off to look at the others as if in confirmation.

No longer feeling nervous, you just shrug at them all, "okay, shoot."

Though you asked them to talk, they all stay glancing at each other. Even Wooyoung, the most confident man you possibly have ever known, couldn't look you directly in the eyes without blushing.

After a while, the tension didn't seem to dissipate and it started to bug you. "Oh, come on! You guys have seen me naked, what could you all possibly have to say that made you all sweating like an old man in a sauna?" you grumbled, crossing your arms on your chest.

Jongho cringed at your words, "don't put you and a sweaty old man in the same sentence, that image's gonna haunt me for weeks," he complained. San stared at him weirdly, "why would you even think about a sweaty old man?" "It's called prompting," "It's called nasty,"

Yeosang exhaled sharply, bringing everyone's attention to him, "since none of you seems to want to seriously ask her, I'll do it," he glared at the other boys before looking straight at you, "how do you feel, non platonically, about all of us?" he asked directly.

While you tilt your head in confusion, everyone else in the room seemed to broke into a meltdown altogether. Some were covering their faces in their hands, others were slumping so lowly on the couch their asses were basically on the floor.

"I... honestly haven't really thought about it," you shrugged, furrowing your eyebrows, "but I can't say I'm not attracted to all of you, sure we're friends and this might be just a fascination thing, but I really can't deny that I definitely feel something for you guys," you continued.

When they heard you say that, they visibly relaxed.

"That's good, because, well..." Yeosang trailed off, waiting for someone else to say it as a rosy tint bloomed on his face, showcasing his bashfulness to everyone.

Thankfully, Hongjoong stepped up and continued Yeosang's sentence, "because we, all eight of us, also can't deny that we feel something for you," he smiled shyly.

Seeing the boys all soft and shy made you giggle. Butterflies formed in your stomach and you had to admit that you like the thought of all of them liking you more than on a platonic level.

"So... every single one of you has feelings for me?" you asked, trying to make sure before you made your conclusion. All eight heads nod and you can't help but to focus on Jongho and Mingi, "you both too?" you asked them both, eyes darting between the two.

While Jongho grinned cockily and nod, Mingi covered his face with one hand in embarrassment, "yeah, kind of," he mumbled. You giggled and reach to try to pry his hand from his face, wanting to see how he look, "when did you start feeling like that, huh? I thought you only think of me as a stress reliever," you whined but eventually succeeding in prying his hand off.

Mingi raised an eyebrow at you, "the fact that we've been sleeping together combined with how amazing you are, it was never about if I'd fall for you, it was about the when," he said. You couldn't help but blush at his words, "so you liked me because we were fuck buddies?" "it sounds bad when you put it like that, but I was intrigued when I first met you which is why I approached you,"

You then shifted your gaze to the others, "When did you all realize you like me?" you asked, "as cliche as it sounds, it was the night we all did it together," Yunho answered.

"Not me," Wooyoung said, raising a hand, "I realized it like a solid couple of weeks after we started our whole fake relationship thing," he grinned proudly, "I began liking the way I call you my girlfriend more than I would like to admit, but I couldn't think of another person more perfect for me than you,"

It was your turn to melt. You covered your face in embarrassment, letting out a muffled squeal at how cheesy Wooyoung's words are. The others chuckled at how adorable you're being.

"You know, the eight of us talked about it before you came back here," Hongjoong said. You calm yourself down before being able to look at him directly in the eyes again, "and... we just wanted to know whether or not you'd like to date us,"

You tilted your head to the side, "like... All nine of us? One girl and eight boys?" you asked, making sure you're not hearing things wrong. But all of them nodded firmly. "It's not orthodox, I'd have to admit, and usually we would each try to win you over for only one of us, but when we were together last time, it just felt natural and I can't speak for these guys, but I didn't feel jealous whatsoever, because I know that you deserve more than just what I could and am willing to give you, and they can fill in where I lack because you deserve nothing but the best," Seonghwa said. He had somehow moved to kneel in between your legs, hands rubbing your knees gently as his eyes shone what you could only describe as pure affection and adoration.

The others piped in agreement with the eldest. It seemed like they know what they're doing and what they want. So the ball was in your court.

On one hand, you adore them to the heavens and back, you couldn't possibly think of having things any other way. And the thought of having to choose between them doesn't sit right with you. Sure, you're just one person, but you're sure if they're right, things will be okay.

But on the other hand, Seonghwa was right, this is highly unorthodox. Sure, you've heard of poly relationships here and there, heck one of your classmates' sister is in a poly relationship with three girls. But you can't deny you live in a society that's filled with judgment and harsh criticism, more than yourself, you're worried about how going down this path would affect them. And besides, how did one went from not wanting to even have random hookups due to wanting to have a relationship with 8 guys?

"See the look on her face? The wheels are turning in there," you heard Jongho muttered to the rest of them who had moved to kneel in front of you somewhere during your thoughts.

You glared at him shortly before pouting, "I do want to know if there could be something more to this," you started. The boys were about to celebrate when you cut them off, "BUT, I'm not sure on how this is gonna be, let's face it, you guys seemed to realize that you like me after we had sex," "I didn't," Wooyoung cut you off which was immediately shut by Yeosang, putting a hand over his mouth, "feelings tend to mash then and I wouldn't be surprised if it was the sexual pull talking," you sighed.

Their shoulder seemingly slumped hearing you say that. They didn't even discuss that, they were pretty sure that they genuinely like you and want to be more with you. Maybe they didn't want what you said to even be a possibility.

Suddenly, San perked up, "wait, if what you're worried about is whether or not our feelings are the real deal or not, then why don't you just test it? You can just decide later if we're gonna officially date or not. Take things slowly, you know?" he grinned brightly.

Slowly, each of the boys' eyes widened and shone with hope, thinking that San's plan is actually probable.

"Finally, San said something fucking smart for once," Yunho muttered, earning a harsh nudge to his hip by a glaring San.

The idea wasn't bad. It was actually good. This way, all of you can be sure and there would be no regrets, no one got hurt.

You squint your eyes at him, "but what would that make us?" "that's the beauty of it, there would be no official title until we make our decision," he said proudly. You pursed your lips, feelings swaying and leaning on the positive, "and how long do I have to make a decision?" this time, Yeosang answered, "as long as you need, we won't rush you," he smiled gently at you, making your stupid heart flip.

The idea WAS appealing, it was a win-win for sure.

When a smile broke on your face, the boys had to hold themselves together to let you confirm their suspicion.

"I'm in, let's try and see where we all can go,"

Before you could even take a breath after answering, the boys had pulled you forward in a giant group hug on the floor. You found yourself squished by eight men who are hollering, cheering, trying to kiss you, and trying to hold onto you as tightly as possible. While the position was uncomfortable, you couldn't care less.

Because being in the centre of them all felt right. It felt like you belong.

taglist :

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binunus · 3 years

Text

sex with bin x eunwoo (m)

a/n THIS WHOLE ALBUM??? IS SO GOOD??? LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK !!!

also im so so sorry that i keep disappearing, every time I think I have a break in school, my professors keep going like sike here’s a new assignment and group presentation 🤡, but I swear I’m still working on all the requests, it’s just a real slow progression this time 😔

but thank you all so much for being really patient with me and my works, i legit wanna cry when I think about how sweet all you loves are ❤️

→ genre: smut

→ tw: threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it lovies) dom!binwoo, brat!reader, light bondage?? anal, eiffel tower, oral (f and m receiving), fingering (f and m receiving), ~choking~ bc it’s me, squirting, v-voyeurism??

→ word count: 3.3k _________________________________

oh good fucking lord

I don’t even know where to start

just the thought of getting dicked down by these two immaculate men??? at the same time??? i would sell my soul

and just binwoo are literally my biases?? im still going back and forth between them (even though I think bin is the top)

alright so how does this little thing even start

this is a non-idol au, lowkey this request is giving me frat boy vibes oops i said it

bin and eunwoo are close, they’re best buds

they have fucked the same guy/girl before, but never at the same time

they just have the same taste in people wink wonk

sidenote: bin and eunwoo as bi kings??? so much power fuck

so you are a mutual friend

you met them both in college and have stayed friends since then

but relationships aren’t for you (not yet at least)

the streets™ are still your companion

yes you have fucked both bin and eunwoo before in college, eunwoo once when you were junior, and bin a couple times throughout senior year

you don’t talk to them often, but if something comes up on your feed or a monumental event happens to any one of you, of course you’d spike up some conversation

so you’re coming back in town for a week or so, visiting old friends and family

and bin hits you up like “hey, I saw that you were in town! we should get some dinner and catch up!”

and you were not about to say no to that, bin was a good part of your college years! it would be nice to hang out with him again

alright you weren’t expecting to get action from this dinner – it popped in your mind, yes, but it wasn’t the ulterior motive

but did you try to dress up a little to impress moon bin?? maybe so

and shit, when he showed up to the restaurant looking like a whole ass man??

like did his biceps look more appetizing than the food you were being served? a little bit

conversation was exchanged very easily, you and bin were always a bit flirty with each other, ever since college, but you both knew it never meant anything beyond sex

and so when he asked if you were dating anyone, you knew this was the invitation, and were you going to accept it?? 100%, you haven’t had sex in a while because of your job

and so you find yourself back in bin’s apartment

bin: hm? I guess eunwoo’s not home from work yet

you: eunwoo? as in cha eunwoo? you guys still live together?

bin: yeah, we like living together, rent was cheaper that way, and this place is equidistant from both of our work places...is that a problem??

you: no, I mean it makes sense, just...what if eunwoo comes back while we’re in the middle of fucking...wouldn’t that be weird?

bin shrugging: you’ve had sex with eunwoo in college too, and it’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before either. who knows he might even wanna join?

he said that as a joke alright

but as soon as he mentioned it, your eyes dilated a bit

bin noticed immediately and he caged you against the wall, a little smirk playing on his lips

bin: you seem to like that idea, y/n. hm? you wanna get fucked by both me and eunwoo? didn’t know you were into threesomes

your cheeks are flushing, you felt seen: would you feel weird if he joined? you guys are friends and roommates

bin shaking his head: me and eunwoo have talked about it before, and honestly this seems like the perfect opportunity. we’re all friends here.

you being nervous a little bit bc a threesome?? with both bin and eunwoo?? those two 6 foot attractive men??

you tried a threesome before bc you were curious, but it wasn’t the best hookup experience

you: should we...? wait for him??

your cheeks are flushed a little, like how were you supposed to go about this

bin smiles bc you look a bit cute right now being all shy and he just pinches your cheek

bin: you got cuter since we graduated y/n

you: shut the fuck up bin, don’t make me tie you up again

bin smirks and his hand moves from your cheek to fully grasp at your neck, he squeezes your throat as he pushes you so that your back collided with the wall: baby, if anyone’s getting tied up tonight, it’s gonna be you

and god if you weren’t horny before, you definitely are now, especially with the way bin was cutting off your airflow??? your head was spinning in the best kind of way

bin slotting his thigh in between your legs as he just crashes his lips onto yours

and he’s still choking you when he literally shoves his tongue down your throat, you have to grab onto his broad shoulders just to steady yourself

making out with bin is so hot

he picks you up by your ass and you wrap your legs around his waist, you both are still making out as he leads you to the couch

you’re straddling him oh lord have mercy

you in between kisses: why don’t we go to your room? what, is it messy?

you moan as he spanks your ass at the quip: we’re gonna need to do something about that smart mouth of yours baby...and we’re here to give eunwoo a little show when he comes home. Why, you need a bed? pillow princess? last time I remember, you were fine getting fucked in the maintenance room.

you two go back to kissing, bin’s hands were gripping at your waist now, lifting up the bottom of your shirt so that you could take it off

never in your life have you been so happy to wear a skirt, you could feel the outline of his bulge against your underwear, the fabric of his jeans giving you just enough friction

and when you start grinding on him, he grunts into your mouth and bites on your lower lip

and fuck when bin removes his shirt? he was always built in college but the definition of his muscles now?? you were literally drooling

you: holy shit bin, isn’t your job in business? where do you find the time to workout?

he’s kissing your neck now: you can always find time to workout y/n, just make it part of your daily routine

exercise evangelist moonbin™

you’re tilting your head to the side giving him more access, bin’s sucking hickeys into your neck and it just feels so good

your neck’s a sensitive spot, if you couldn’t tell

and bin knows that so he’s paying extra attention to your neck, you don’t even notice when his hands go around your torso to unclasp your bra

the two of you are literally just topless on his couch, making out and feeling each other up, when lo and behold, eunwoo comes home

his eyes go wide and he immediately covers his face: jesus christ bin, go to your fucking room

bin starts laughing, you know his laugh where his eyes literally crinkle and he smiles so wide and his laugh increases in pitch, that one

you can’t help but laugh too, you thought you would be embarrassed, but this is a bit funny

you: you don’t have to cover your eyes eunwoo, it’s not like you haven’t seen any of this before

eunwoo: oh shit, hey y/n, didn’t know you were coming over?? well...uh if you guys aren’t gonna go to bin’s room, I’m going to mine and just let me know when you’re done

bin: you sure you wanna go to your room? y/n wants you to join us

eunwoo’s blushing a little bit (he’s not covering his face anymore) when you two meet eyes: are you sure y/n?

you get a bit shy again bc shit, eunwoo in a suit coming from work with silver-blue hair? sexy

you: yeah...if you want to, me and bin are cool with it.

bin’s back to kissing your neck as you basically watch eunwoo remove his jacket and tie

and oof him unbuttoning his dress shirt? y’all he’s a tease, they both are

bin: let’s take this back to my room

eunwoo: we can go to mine, it’s cleaner and my bed’s bigger

you: i knew it

bin bites your shoulder and you let out a mix between a yelp of pain and a moan

bin: eunwoo get your ropes, we need to teach y/n a lesson on being bratty

eunwoo chuckling as he leads the way to his bedroom

bin already made himself comfortable on eunwoo’s bed, and you’re standing to the side making conversation as eunwoo looks through his closet for the ropes lol

as soon as eunwoo finds it, there’s a dark change in his eyes and he smirks at you: why don’t you join binnie on the bed, y/n?

your stomach turns in excitement, eunwoo tosses the ropes to bin and he puts a hand on your back as he leads you to his bed, and before you could get on by yourself, eunwoo just tugs your skirt down making you gasp

you lie down and bin grins as he binds your wrists to eunwoo’s headboard, usually you would put up a little fight when you get tied up, but you just stayed silent, you were anticipating what would happen next

bin: you’re being oddly obedient y/n

you’re a brat okay, but in the past when you and bin used to hook up, your brattiness increased by like 100%, like you’re extra bratty with bin for some reason

~it is what it is~

maybe it’s because eunwoo’s here too that your bratty side has suppressed a bit

bin and eunwoo both start removing all their clothes and you’re like shit eunwoo’s built too

bin settles in between your legs and eunwoo leans in and starts kissing you

and mmm eunwoo’s good at making out like he legit be taking your breath away and then you start feeling bin take off your soaked panties and he just goes right in

you literally moan into eunwoo’s mouth and your hands are straining against the ropes bc you just want to hold onto something !!

eunwoo feeling up your breasts and tweaking your nipples while bin is sucking on your clit and probing his tongue in and out your entrance??? euphoric

you’re literally feeling so many sensations right now and it’s just foreplay woo

and then the edging starts

bin??? hella good at eating out, oof what that mouth do

and with the added stimulation from eunwoo kissing your neck and pulling at your nips, you’re reaching your orgasm faster than anticipated

and suddenly they’re both off you

you: what the fuck?

you’re like gasping and glaring at the both of them and they just give you smug looks

bin: I don’t know if you deserve to cum just yet, y/n. right, eunwoo?

eunwoo chuckling as he nods and flicks at your nipple: binnie told me that you like talking back, hmmm that won’t work with both of us here y/n

your submissiveness kicking in and you’re whining: i won’t talk back, I promise

bin: I don’t know if I believe you y/n

and then they switch places and now bin’s making out with you again and eunwoo’s face to face with your cunt and he just shoves two fingers in your entrance and starts scissoring you

and right as you’re about to cum, they pull away again

this goes on at least two more times, you’re literally so frustrated tears are pooling in your eyes and you’re whining hard as hell, your wrists already aching from the ropes

eunwoo: do you want us to untie you, y/n?

you nodding as you’re sniffling back the tears

aww they feel bad so eunwoo unties the ropes and he’s like gently rubbing at your wrists

bin wiping your tears away as he pinches at your cheek again

bin: you okay, y/n?

you: I’m so close, please

bin: alright baby, who do you want first, hm?

you honestly didn’t know, you had no preference, you just wanted to get railed

eunwoo: why not both?

your eyes go wide a little bit, your ass isn’t even prepped

bin sensing your hesitation and he just puts a hand on your waist: if you don’t want to--

you: no, i want to...I’m just...my ass isn’t ready...

eunwoo laughing cutely as he pats your thigh: we’ll prep you baby, don’t worry

you start by going on all fours, bin enters you first from behind and the groan he lets out bc you’re just so tight wow

he literally has to restrain himself from just ramming into you, your walls just fit so snugly around him, his nails were digging into the skin of your waist

you open your mouth in a moan at the stretch and in that moment, eunwoo shoves his cock down your throat you literally gag

for reference, they’re both above average, no surprise there, I’d say both around 8 in., but bin’s girthier for sure

and so bin’s fucking your cunt while eunwoo’s fucking your mouth

simultaneously, eunwoo tugs at your hair and bin sneaks a finger down to gather some juices from your pussy before probing at your asshole

bin’s prepping you real well mmmmm

he’s literally fingering your ass while he’s pounding into you, the tip of his cock hitting so deep in your cervix

on the other hand you’re so focused on sucking eunwoo off, you take him as deep in your throat as you could, letting your jaw slack as he just thrusted in your mouth

and also the vibrations of your moans around his cock every time bin hits deep in you???

eunwoo swears he almost busts a nut when your hands reach up to play with his balls

he’s panting as he pulls your mouth off his cock: I need to be inside you before I cum

and then he’s lying down on his back and you start to ride eunwoo, and then bin lines his cock up at your other hole and you start to tense

eunwoo bringing you into a kiss to try and distract you from the pain your asshole’s about to feel

and you start hissing as bin starts to push in, you’re clenching so hard around eunwoo and tugging tightly at the ends of his hair

eunwoo starts making circles on your clit so that you could relax a bit to make it easier for bin to enter your back hole

and then the three of you just stay still for a bit when bin finally bottoms out, you’re still trying to get used to feeling stuffed full, you haven’t been fucked in so long and now you’re getting railed by two cocks??

the two of them are both saying sweet things to calm you down and distract you from the pain

and it’s cute, you know from your respective past hookup experiences with them that they’re really good at sensing discomfort or pain and would always tend to your needs

oof baby but as soon as you give the okay for both of them to move

it’s like you’re taken to another dimension holy shit

they both hit so deep, you swear to god their cocks have to be touching or something, or maybe at least reaching your intestines

when people say rearrange your guts, it definitely must have been this

you’re trying to set a pace on top of eunwoo, but bin thrusting from behind literally makes your knees go weak until eunwoo just lifts his hips and takes over, matching bin’s speed

and imagine this: bin pulling your hair, making your head tilt back and eunwoo just reaches up and covers your neck with his hand before he squeezes at your throat

your eyes are literally rolling into the back of your head, you have never felt this good ever in your life

your head’s spinning again, and you know all three of you are reaching the tipping point pretty soon, your stomach is churning, making you clench hard around both eunwoo and bin

eunwoo biting his lip as he groans, his grip tightening just a bit more around your neck

bin’s still yanking your hair back and he starts spanking your ass, he’s moaning as well

you literally scream, throat feeling raw, as you cum, you have never orgasmed so hard before, your body was convulsing around both of them and you just collapse on top of eunwoo

you’re vision literally sees white and your ears are ringing as they both cum in you

you black out for a little bit

eunwoo and bin: o_o holy fuck

the two of them start panicking like...did they just fuck you dead?? put you in a coma??

okay but just imagine eunwoo and bin bickering with each other about what to do like

bin: do we call 119???

eunwoo: what do we say? we fucked our friend into a coma?

it’s okay because you regain consciousness soon enough and both boys let out the biggest sigh of relief

you: ...what happened?

eunwoo: you passed out for a bit there y/n

you start giggling, much to their surprise, and you try to sit up

bin: ...are you okay y/n?

you: yeah, I can’t believe I blacked out because you guys fucked me so well, that’s pretty hot not gonna lie

eunwoo goes into the kitchen real quick to get you some water and bin sits down next to you

you thank eunwoo when he hands you the glass and he sits across from you and bin

the two roommates exchange a look and just high-five each other

you roll your eyes as they just laugh at each other...ugh boys

bin teasing you: I’ve never seen you so submissive y/n

eunwoo joining in: yeah, didn’t know you could squirt as well

you almost spit out the water: i-huh? no way

eunwoo: yeah, my stomach was soaked, I wiped it off when you were out

your face flushes, you’ve never squirted before

bin: don’t be embarrassed! it was hot, y/n, really

the three of you then just jump into a casual conversation about college, keep in mind you’re all still naked

and then you feel the cum just like in both your holes and it’s just uncomfortably sticky

you: uh...do you guys mind if I shower? my pussy feels gross right now

bin, with a glint in his eyes: I can clean that up for you, baby

before you know it, bin’s eating you out again -- to be more specific, he’s literally licking the mixture of yours and eunwoo’s cum from your cunt

that’s sexy...

you make eye contact with eunwoo and he’s just smirking as he sits back and watches you two, no intention on joining yet

alright but you had no idea if you could take another round right now, the first one literally made you pass out

so after bin makes you cum again, you tap out for the night

the three of you shower -- separately -- and then regroup in the living room to just chat and chill

the two insist you sleep over for the night since it’s past midnight by now

were there also hints of a round two in the morning?? maybe

you sleep in one of eunwoo’s shirts, but end up sleeping next to bin bc he’s whiny and likes cuddling

you three fuck again in the morning oops until eunwoo had to leave for work

then you and bin fuck again afterwards

happy threesome

happy comeback :)

4-5-21

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blouisparadise · 3 years

Photo

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry radiates sex appeal. We hope you enjoy this fics! If you find our rec lists useful, please support them by liking the post and reblogging it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Gimme Gimme | Mature | 5957 words

He dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down face-first onto the bed, groaning, and started thinking about that new neighbor. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe this was the time for him to actually try and find a love interest that lasted longer than 2 weeks. He rolled over and sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window.

And what he saw was probably the most amazing thing on the planet.

Walking into his new neighbor’s house was a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase while his Porsche sat in the driveway.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht? That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on. He also thinks he'd like to get closer. Just to see what's under those aviators. Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet. Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life. On a yacht. In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

3) Sweet Like Cherry Vodka | Not Rated | 8039 words

When he exits the building he instantly sees him. He’s leaning against his white Mercedes Benz convertible. The car makes him look more expensive. Of course, the navy blue suit that fits tightly around his broad shoulders — making Louis want to fall to his knees, mind you — also helps to get the message across. He looks up from his phone, his sleek black aviators block Louis from seeing his dark eyes.

When Louis knows Harry's watching him he smiles. A grin grows on Harry’s mouth, his strong jaw moves cockily while he chews his gum. How does someone make chewing gum so hot?

“Need a ride sweetheart?” Harry calls to him, the statement adds to his cocky demeanor.

“You know I do, silly.” Louis laughs at how ridiculous the older man can be.

4) You And I ‘Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

5) Guns N Roses | Mature | 14069 words

Harry's an assassin, Louis is a government agent. They hate each other but not really.

6) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

7) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

8) Even The Best Laid Plans | Explicit | 25190 words

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

9) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

10) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he's ever seen.

11) Take My Pure (And Wash It All Away ‘Til I’m Cured) | Explicit | 40629 words

They're all 19. Louis is a twink, Harry is a frat boy hunk. Harry for some reason wants his makeup done for pride, and Louis is just trying so very hard to stay clear of all alleged fuckboys this year.

12) In The Still Of The Night | Explicit | 68568 words

The Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

13) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76576 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

14) Your Name is Tattooed on My Heart | Explicit | 86809 words

Note: This fic has mentions of top Louis.

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

15) Beyond The Point Of Weird | Mature | 108331 words

Louis meets Harry one night and well... Of course things lead from one thing to another. How could Louis not be interested in having a go at the ex-Rockstar who'd starred in his first wet dream?

When Harry asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend to help him clear up his image, Louis agrees because why the fuck not. Yet it kind of feels like the only 'fake' part of their relationship is the title they chose for it... And then it gets confusing.

Louis' pretty sure he walked right into a trap - one he's not quite sure he wants to escape.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #sex appeal #blp fic recs #blp #larry

202 notes · View notes

ceruleanchillin · 3 years

Text

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans imagine #reader insert

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part V

[ previous ] Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x Reader, Zeke Jaeger x Reader wc: ~ 8.8k Warnings: pining, testosterone, Zeke being a dick (who woulda thought), subtle manipulation (both on Zeke’s part that goes unchecked and accidentally on Mike’s part) A/N: Well, we’re gettin’ there. We’re truckin’ along. I’m sorry for the last chapter. And, I’m sorry for this one. But, I do still hope you enjoy it. I think we’re at the halfway mark here.

Mike gets a text from you at nine PM three days before he’s supposed to go back to campus. It’s just a few words, a question that makes his heart drop to his stomach because you’ve never asked it before.

Can we talk for a sec?

He waits for a few minutes, tries to get rid of the panicked feeling rising in his chest, but he can’t get it to go away entirely, so he just bites the bullet and calls you.

“Heyyy,” you greet. Mike can already tell a difference in your tone. Something is definitely going on.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I just, uh…” He hears you suck on your front teeth, a nervous habit he’s well versed in now, then you tell him, “I just wanted to give you a heads up before you get back here.”

Mike swallows. “Heads up about what?”

Are you leaving? Did you fail your summer classes despite all his help? Did you get into some kind of accident?

You let out a long breath that Mike wishes he could feel on his skin. He wishes he could see your expression, wishes he could hold your face in his hands and tell you that whatever it is, it’ll be okay. Seems like he’s always wishing for things.

“Um, I—uh… I’m kind of seeing someone.”

The floor falls out from beneath him, and Mike drops with it, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He grits his teeth, trying to breathe normally—in through the nose, out through the mouth. This is about the last thing he expected you to confess.

It’s apparently taking too long for him to gather himself, because you say his name, “Miche?” and he has to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I’m here. It’s, uh, fine,” he lies. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” You sound worried, as you should because while Mike isn’t mad, he’s extremely disappointed, probably the most he’s ever been.

Taking a page out of your book, he tries to play it cool, act like he doesn’t care. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, you—...” Met your mom? Learned your secrets? Tried to tell you that he loved you? All valid responses, but you just dismiss it with a quiet, “Nevermind.”

Mike hums, lets the line go silent for a while, then musters the courage to question, “Do I know him?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What do you mean ‘you think so’?”

“I mean he’s mentioned you, so I figure you’ve had at least a few conversations.” You’re getting that sassy tone, the one that signals you want to drop the subject, but you can’t this time. You’ve already warned Mike that you’re off the god damn market. You might as well tell him who exactly he’s gonna see you holding hands and sucking face with. It’s the merciful thing to do.

“It’s not one of the Pike guys, is it?”

“No, no,” you laugh and it makes Mike want to scream because he doesn’t find this amusing at all, and it only gets worse when you finally answer, “It’s Zeke Jaeger.”

Mike nearly hangs up then and there, but he somehow fights the urge. He does hold his phone away from his ear, though, stares up at his ceiling for a few seconds and stretches his arm out, then brings the device back. “Cool. He’s a… Talented dude.”

“Yeah, but I mean, I’m not exactly starstruck or anything. Not after hangin’ out with you all of last year.”

Mike rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his skull. “You don’t have to make this about me, ba—...” He catches himself before finishing the pet name. He can’t do that anymore. He can’t call you what he wants to. He can’t flirt or smooth hair out of your face. He can’t pick you up and hold you against the walls of the house. He can’t show you how much he cares for you.

“I know. I just feel kinda bad,” you mumble.

“You shouldn’t. It’s cool.” His flat tone is anything but cool, and you can probably tell, but there’s not much Mike can do about that.

You’re pouting when you question, “You’ll still be my friend?” Mike can see the expression without actually seeing it, the doe eyed look you’d be giving him if he were in front of you right now. He can also imagine looping his arms around you and smiling crookedly and kissing your forehead, and fuck, he feels broken.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t even be a question.”

“Good.”

You lapse into another silence, just breathing and waiting for the other to break. It’s you who does. You clear your throat and state one more time, “I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks.”

“See you in a few days.”

“Yeah,” Mike is barely listening at this point, just looks at the poster on the wall and lets it fall out of focus. “See ya’.”

You don’t hang up immediately, like you’re waiting for him to say something else, but Mike saves you the trouble and presses the ‘end’ button on his phone then tosses it on his pillow and falls back onto the mattress.

He just doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. You’ve gone an entire year denying him, keeping yourself closed off and never once bringing up the possibility of actually being together. After all the time spent together, after all the date parties, all the sex, staying at each others’ houses. He feels like he knows you better than anyone else probably does. You let him in. You let yourself be vulnerable in front of him. You acted like you trusted him.

So, why isn’t he your first choice? As soon as you realized you were ready to make a fucking commitment to someone, why wasn’t it him?

Mike doubts he’ll ever get the closure. He’ll just have to cope with seeing you around campus with Zeke god damn Jaeger, have to pretend like everything is fine, like you haven’t ripped his heart out of his fucking chest.

Unbearable. It’s going to be absolutely unbearable.

Moving somewhere new always blows. It takes so much energy that Mike doesn’t have, yet here he is, hauling bags and boxes up to his new apartment unit. Honestly, he would almost prefer to stay in the frat house instead of having to make all the trips up and down these god damn concrete stairs, but at least now he’ll finally be away from all the parties. That will definitely come in handy this year considering he’s not gonna want to go to a single fucking one of them.

Once all of his belongings are stacked in his fairly small living room, Mike glances around his new haven, already thinking about how empty it feels without all the guys milling about and dicking around. He doubts he’ll miss the constant noise, but it’s still something that will take some getting used to.

What he will miss is seeing you all the time, waking up in his old room to see you still fast asleep on his pillows, sitting in the main room with the others, heckling them as they play various games. He’s been focusing on the small things for the last couple of days, the things he never took the time to really enjoy. It feels like he didn’t stare long enough or laugh hard enough when he had the chance, and now he doesn’t know when his next opportunity to do either of those with you will be.

Mike scrubs a hand down his face, scratches the hair he’s let grow out a little too much, then slowly begins to unpack his things. He’s being melodramatic, he knows, but he can’t help it. He can either let himself feel sad, or he can let the unbridled fucking rage take over, and out of the two, he prefers the former.

Mike’s class schedule gets pinned to the wall in his bedroom. His laptop gets set up. Textbooks are tossed into a corner. He really doesn’t care to do much more than that, but he figures he should make the place at least a little presentable. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find someone to entertain.

The thought makes him a little sick to his stomach, but it’s a sensation he’s slowly getting used to as more time passes.

Mike knows he needs to pull himself together, needs to put on a brave face. Pretty soon all the frats will be dealing with the dirty rushers, all the kids who weren’t able or didn’t think to suck up to the brothers during the spring. Then there’s inductions and hazing… Fuck, fall semesters are so tedious even without living in the house. He’s never been a huge fan of it all, but he’s had this image to uphold since he became a pledge.

Now, Mike isn’t so sure he can keep that image in place.

He stays locked away for as long as he possibly can, but eventually there’s a knock on his front door—Erwin who shoots Mike a broad grin and wriggles his ridiculous eyebrows. “You ready, bro? Got a place all your own with no one to bother you—”

“You’re bothering me.”

“Can do whatever you want,” Erwin powers on, completely unfazed. “Bring back whoever you want, no pesky frat boys to get in your way ‘cause fuck those guys, right?” He goes to grab Mike’s shoulders while laughing at his own joke, but Mike swats him away.

It makes Erwin scoff, and then he’s pushing past Mike to get into his new home, looking around for just a second and breathing out a little, “Eesh,” before turning back and giving Mike a look of condescension. “Don’t tell me this bad mood is because of your little toy finding someone else.”

“Okay, firstly, fuck off,” Mike squints at him. “And, secondly, how do you already know about that?”

Erwin examines his manicured nails, buffs them on his shirt and tells Mike, “Saw her and Jaeger walking out of the bookstore earlier. They looked pretty cozy. Pretty giddy, too, all smiles and—”

“Shut. The fuck up.”

The other man snorts. “Calm down, dude. I’m sure you can get her back or whatever you’re trying to do. Zeke’s an assole. Won’t take her long to figure it out.”

“We’ll see.”

This time Mike lets Erwin clap a hand on his shoulder before he walks out but not without suggesting, “You really should brighten things up a little in here. Hang some fairy lights or something. Girls love fairy lights.”

Mike rolls his eyes, not bothering to remind his friend that he only started unpacking half an hour ago, then physically shoves Erwin out of his apartment.

So, you’re already walking around campus flaunting your new little fling, he thinks. Perfect. He’s really looking forward to seeing that everywhere.

Mike eventually has to go by the PKA house for a meeting. Some of the members are already discussing plans for rush week and parties. Should they have lists or just keep them open and direct everyone to the yard? Are they gonna stick to their regular forms of hazing or should they change things up this year? Did anyone stick out from spring? Mike doesn’t pay much attention, just scrolls through his phone skimming through the same three social media apps over and over. He reads through the text thread he shares with you, the one he’s never deleted, and thumbs all the way up to a few months ago just to see if anything had been different back then, if he had said or done something wrong.

But, he’s gone through it a dozen times already, and he never finds anything. Maybe you just grew while he was away, experienced some kind of self-actualization that prepared you for an actual relationship.

Or, maybe Zeke just has something that Mike doesn’t.

Mike runs into you on the second day of classes. Thankfully, you’re alone, and as soon as you catch sight of him, you grin widely and launch yourself at him. It comes as a surprise, your full weight hitting him square in the chest when you jump, and he has to catch you like you’re an excited child.

It’s too close. You’re too close. Body against his as you slide down to your actual height and rest your head on his chest.

“I missed you, Zacharias.”

He wants to lift you up again, lock your thighs around his waist and kiss you like he used to. Instead, Mike pats the top of your head and gently untangles you from himself. He makes sure to smile when you look up at him, and he’s glad you aren’t pouting or frowning, your expression soft when he tells you, “Yeah, I missed you too.”

He asks how your summer classes went. You ask what his course load is like this semester. It’s just small talk, and Mike hates it.

“How’re your parents?” You question like you’re interested, but he can’t imagine you actually are.

“They’re good,” he shrugs. “Dad got a promotion at work a few weeks ago. Mom is doing the same shit she always does.” Like, making his favorite meals to heal his poor little broken heart. Mike hadn’t even told her about the conversation he’d had with you, and yet, as soon as he came out of his room the following morning, she just knew.

“Glad to hear it,” you nod. “Hey, do you wanna grab lunch or something? My next class isn’t til two, so I’m tryin’ to kill some time.”

“Actually, I told Erwin I’d meet him,” Mike lies through his teeth. He’ll be using excuses like that for as long as he can. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cool,” you wave him off. “I’ll just grab Hitch or—”

“There you are.” Mike stiffens at the vaguely familiar voice ringing out from behind him, hand flexing by his side as the school’s golden boy walks right past him and to you. “I was looking all over for you.”

“Well, here I am,” you laugh, but Mike notes how forced it sounds. It’s a laugh that stems from nerves, he thinks. But why? Is it because Mike is here? Are you afraid of how he’ll act? Or, is it that you’re still in the phase of this “relationship” with Zeke that you’re still anxious around him?

The other man doesn’t even acknowledge Mike for a full twenty seconds. He heavily considers just walking away without a word, but the blond does eventually turn around to look at him and shows a smile that Mike would describe as slimy but you would probably call charming.

“Zacharias,” Zeke greets and holds out a hand. “It’s been a minute.”

Mike doesn’t like the way he says his last name. He only likes the way his friends say it. How you say it. Even if it started off as a way to keep your distance, he grew fond of it. Not as fond as his given name, of course, but hearing those four syllables from your mouth, always laced with attitude, never fails to make him smile.

“Yeah, it has,” Mike agrees, clasping hands with him.

He immediately feels Zeke stick his index finger out over his wrist, an attempt of taking control of the shake. Mike has seen it too many times to count, the petty attempt to flip hands so that one man’s is on top of the other. It’s a terrible way to flaunt one’s masculinity or power, and it’s never worked on Mike.

His hand is quite a bit larger than most people’s, after all. It’s definitely larger than Zeke’s, so when he tries to turn it, Mike doesn’t have a problem keeping his wrist straight.

The blond has to look up at him, actually tilt his head back because Mike has a good five inches on him, and after a couple more seconds, Zeke gives up on the pathetic display of dominance. That doesn’t stop Mike from squeezing his palm just a little too hard, though, just enough to see the muscles in Zeke’s jaw twitch.

When he lets go he chances a glance at you, finding you rubbing your temples. You mumble something Mike can’t hear, probably about men being stupid because there’s no way that little show escaped your notice.

Zeke steps over to you once again and asks the same question you had asked Mike—”You wanna get lunch, babe?”

Hearing him calling you that causes Mike’s blood to bubble in his veins, blistering from the inside out. It’s time for him to leave.

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. Eyes flicking back to Mike, you force another smile and tell him, “See you around.”

The two of you walk off, and Mike watches for just a little too long as Zeke laces his fingers with yours. Once you’re both a safe distance away, the fucker looks back at Mike from over his shoulder and smirks at him.

Mike has long legs. He could easily catch up to you and punch Zeke square in the jaw, make his head snap to the side so that he drops to the ground.

But, what would you think of that? There’s no way you’d be happy with him, and if there’s one thing that would be worse than Mike having to see you parade around with someone who isn’t him, it would be you ignoring him completely.

The first couple of weeks are honestly a blur. Too much is happening for Mike to focus on. The only thing that seems real to him is the ache in his chest. It distracts him day in and day out, through the late rushers and all the sucking up, through the first couple of parties, bid day and the first rounds of hazing. It’s just always there.

He is notably quieter when in the house, and it seems like everyone knows why. While Erwin pokes fun at him for his moodiness, Nile takes a more adult approach and simply asks how he’s doing, if he needs anything, going as far as offering, “You need me to punch that dude in the throat? Plant drugs in his bag? I’m pretty sure Gelgar has coke on his person at all times.”

He’s a good guy. Mike is glad he got voted in as PKA President this year despite Erwin giving him a run for his money. Nile is just personable enough to bring members in and have a good time at events, and just controlling enough to make sure things in the house are taken care of. Plus, Erwin doesn’t seem too broken up about getting Vice instead.

It’s a relief when lacrosse starts back up, finally gives him a way to get some of his frustration out. The other teams have never been luckier to be wearing helmets otherwise Mike would have broken several noses within the first game alone.

The season has some overlap with baseball, games scheduled on the same day, sometimes at the same time. Mike keeps himself from looking into the stands to try to find you, scared that you’ll be there or scared that you won’t be, he isn’t sure.

And, of course, Zeke’s face is plastered everywhere after he pitches a perfect fucking game. Mike wants to be angry, wants to spit on the flyers and punch every computer that’s displaying the college’s home screen, but if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that if it were anyone else, Mike would be impressed. Pitching a perfect game is pretty fucking cool, and the school is lucky to have a player as talented as Zeke, but god, what Mike wouldn’t do to just curbstomp him.

Your name still lights up on his phone fairly often to ask how games went or how his classes are going. You’ve asked for help with homework on one occasion and lunch on another, but after Mike lies about only being able to walk you through the material over the phone and shoots you down for lunch, you seem to get the picture.

He doesn’t want it to be awkward between you, but he doesn’t know how to act now. His entire relationship with you started off as a drunken fuck, and it’s been mostly physical since then. How is he supposed to be able to spend time with you without touching you? Even the semester you refused to hook up with him, there were still times when you were both actively fighting the temptation. Mike can remember seeing it in your eyes all the time, probably just as often as you’d see it in his. You’d sit with a leg pressed against his, fall asleep on his arm every once in a while, and he wants that back now, but there’s no way the two of you can do that anymore. He doesn’t possess the same self-control.

Over the weekend, you end up cracking and trying again, asking for help with studying for a quiz, and Mike has to contemplate it for at least fifteen minutes before he gives in.

Coffee shop on 7th? you text him, and Mike chuckles to himself. The only places you’ve ever studied together is at the library or in his room, and while he could only get as far as a hand between your legs in the school building, he would usually end up in bed with you whenever going over something behind closed doors.

It makes sense that you want to go to a busier place, more eyes to watch you. It’s irritating, but he understands.

Mike grabs one of his own textbooks from the previous year, the one he actually bought so that he could highlight and take notes in the margins, then makes his way to the little cafe.

He’s been to this particular shop many times before, with you as well as the girls who came before—the ones that never mattered. Mike easily spots you at a little table by the window, your own book and several papers spread out around you. When you see him, you grin then hurry to clear a space for him, organizing what Mike recognizes as reading guides.

“Hey, stranger," you greet.

Mike nods, eyes landing on the green hoodie you’re wearing, the one that covers too much of you, that spills over the tops of your legging clad thighs and hides your little hands. It’s his, but it’s always looked better on you. The fact that you still wear it makes Mike’s heart swell a tiny bit as he takes his seat. The sun is hitting you just right and making your face glow, making your eyes twinkle, and he doesn’t know if he can do this.

“So, what d’you need help with?” He prompts before he can make up his mind to turn right back around.

You slide one of the guides over to him and point out several circled questions. The blanks are filled in, but you ask him, “Why?” dramatically. “None of that makes sense to me.”

Mike laughs through his nose and glances at the page your textbook is flipped to so he can open his own.

“Why’d you keep your book from last year?”

He glances up before turning it to show the highlighted lines, the starred passages, the little annotations for better understanding.

“One, because I worked hard on making it better, and two,” he feels his mouth curl up, the teasing coming naturally when he tells you, “I figured you’d probably benefit from it.”

You squint at him, scrunching your nose up, and Mike takes a mental snapshot to tuck away.

“Rude,” you utter.

He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “I think ‘thank you’ is the term you’re looking for.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just explain this to me if you’re so smart.”

“You know I’m smart.”

Mike doesn’t understand where the casual back-and-forth is coming from. Is it easy because he's done it so many times before? Words tumble from his mouth before they actually cross his mind, and he’s both grateful (it’s better than the awkward small talk he thought he’d have to make) and worried. If he’s speaking without actually thinking things through, what else might he do before his brain catches up? Will he smooth hair out of your eyes? Will he brush his hand over yours? Will he stare at your lips for too long? All of those are habits he hasn’t managed to break yet, but he will break if he accidentally offends you by crossing any of these lines.

He sits with his hands tucked between his legs, only moving to flip a page or point something out with his pinky finger. He's reading upside down, and you're leaning over the tabe, staring at the book then staring at him. Mike tries to look through you instead of at you, but it's hard as you let out a little oh! when something clicks or pouting when it doesn't.

"I still don't get it."

So, Mike finds different ways of explaining things because he knows this information very well now. It's still pretty fresh in his brain, and he may or may not have reviewed some of it when he saw how many of your classes matched up with his.

"Okay, I feel a lot better," you sigh once Mike has gone through every page.

Mike is more or less sitting on his hands at this point, gritting his teeth behind the grin plastered on his face because this is the part where he asks if you wanna go back to the house. This is the part where you wind down together, watching dumb TV shows or pawing at each other, rolling in his bed and laughing and moaning. That's what's supposed to happen.

"Alright, well, if that's it, I should get going," Mike tries, stretching his arms out and nearly smacking the person sitting behind him right in the head.

You snort, cover your mouth, and look away. It's what you always do. You can't look at him when you start laughing or you'll just laugh harder and harder, and while Mike adores it, the general public usually does not.

But, then Mike is snickering because he can feel the stranger trying to burn holes in the back of his skull, has to bite his fist to keep himself quiet, and when you chance a glance and see, you slam your head down on the table, whole body shaking with giggles.

It's always the little things that get you. On one of the walks with Scout over Spring Break, Mike had tripped over a stick on the trail. He managed to catch himself, but Jesus Christ, you didn't stop laughing for ten minutes.

"God fucking—" he's starting to lose it too as he stands and gathers your supplies from the table, tucking them all under one arm then using his other to pull you out of your seat. "We have to leave before they make us."

You hide your face in your hands, trusting Mike to guide you by the shoulders, and once you're both outside, you belly laugh until you wave your arms and gasp, "I can't—I can't breathe—I can't breathe!" Your voice is all high pitched and hysterical, and all Mike can do is bring you to his chest so that you can let your giggles die off in the privacy of his t-shirt.

He can feel your breath through the material as you calm down, eventually looking up and wiping tears from your eyes as you continue to grin.

Mike tilts his face down to stare at you, aware that all of his affections are shining right through his eyes, but he doesn't care because you don't seem to.

“You’re a fucking dork,” he hums, has a fully conscious thought of touching your face—no accident, no impulse, a complete, coherent, thought, so he does it. He just does it. Palm over your cheek, thumb gently tracing to wipe away another tear from your little fit.

You let out a long exhale, close your eyes and hum, then reach up to cover Mike's hand with yours.

Your fingers lock into the spaces between his, and you hold on for a few seconds before letting your hand fall, taking his with it. And, just like that, all the good feelings that had grown inside of him over the course of the study session disappear.

"Miche," you sigh, still holding onto two of his fingers.

He smiles in a way that makes you frown, then mumbles, "Yeah, I know."

After handing your supplies back, Mike kisses you on the top of the head before you can stop him, then turns and starts walking toward the street his apartment is on.

"Why are you always wearing that hoodie?"

You look up from your laptop just as Zeke steps out of his room freshly showered and shirtless. It's a sight that should probably make your mouth water, but instead it's gone dry at his question.

"Oh, uh, I don't really know," you bullshit. "It's just big and comfortable, I guess."

Zeke uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair a little better, questions, "Well, whose is it?" while his face is slightly obscured.

If you pause, he'll probably be suspicious. If you answer, he will also be suspicious. And, you can't really blame him. People know you on campus as Mike Zacharias' friend or girlfriend or plaything or whatever. You assume Zeke having to walk around with that hanging over his head is pretty annoying.

"Oh, wait," he starts before you can answer. Squinting without his glasses, he grumbles, "That's one of the lacrosse hoodies, isn't it?"

You look down at the cracked logo and try not to smile at it. "Yeah. It's one of Mike's old ones."

"Right." He pads over to you and takes your laptop from your legs despite your protests of being in the middle of an online assignment, setting it on the coffee table behind him. Then, using one arm to brace himself on the back of the couch, Zeke holds himself above you and takes your chin between two fingers so that he can tilt your face and kiss you.

It makes you melt. It always does. Your heart beats like a drum in your chest for about two seconds before it relaxes into a subtle thrumming, a white noise that drowns out everything else.

You straighten your back in an attempt to get closer, but Zeke pulls away ever so slightly, makes you chase after his lips and you do. You do because you want more, want him.

It's been weeks now and the farthest you've gotten with him, the farthest he's let you get with him, was the series of harsh kisses he'd ladened you with up against his front door a few days ago. He'd pushed your shirt up and shoved a knee between your legs, giving you something to grind against, but it never progressed to anything more.

You don't understand. It's not like he's never had sex. You've heard girls talk about him on campus, how he'd been seeing so-and-so for a couple months in freshman year, fucked some other chick at a party, etc., etc.

Then you'd met his actual ex the other day, one he dated officially for a semester last year before breaking things off. Her name is Rhi. She's very pretty. And, she had pulled Zeke into a full blown conversation without looking at you once. The way she batted her eyes and smiled at him, twisting her hair and shoving at him playfully—Oh yeah. She's definitely seen him naked.

You didn't say anything about it for a while, just stewed in silence until Zeke finally sighed and asked, "What would you like to know?"

He'd given you the vague outline—met her in class, studied together, decided to date, left her to focus on baseball. That excuse hit a little too close to home, but you'd let it roll off your shoulders.

The point is Zeke has fucked other girls, but he won't fuck you, and you need to know why because you're starting to get desperate. It's not a good look. It's one you never wanted to wear, but the way he stares at you and the way he talks to you, always pointing out your strengths, encouraging you, complimenting you is intoxicating.

When Zeke's eyes are on you, it’s like you're the most important person in the room. He has some ability to make you feel that way, to make everyone feel that way you realized one night after a game. People flock to him. They want to listen to what he has to say. They want to agree with him where he can see.

It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't met him, but the best way you can describe it (a way only a few people will understand) is that he has a twenty for charisma. He's talented and smart and engaging, can convince anyone of anything the same way he's convinced you that he wants you.

Hand slipping behind your arching back, Zeke presses you against him for just a moment, then drops onto the couch next to you only to tug you on top of him.

You're already breathing too heavily, clutching his face in both your hands as you grind your hips against his. He squeezes your ass, smirking against your mouth when you whimper, then moves his hands to push both the hoodie and your shirt off.

You lift your arms, letting Zeke strip you as your mind grows hazy. He mutters more to himself than to you, a low, "Get this shit off," then carelessly tosses your clothes over the armrest.

Fingers climb up your ribs, almost tickling, making you squirm in his lap. You can feel that he's getting hard, thank god. This just might be the night, please fucking let it be.

You've never been a big fan of terms like ‘blue-balls’ or ‘blue-bean’, never even thought it existed, and it really doesn't; it's just a form of manipulation, of guilting your partner into sex, and you know this because you've had an entire rant about it prepared since high school, but right now, in this particular moment, you're aching. Your insides ache. Your clit aches. You just want—

Zeke pinches one of your nipples hard enough to clear your head for a second, causes you to cry out and pull back. He lets go, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches you and flicks over the sore bud with a fingertip.

"Zeke," you breathe, body trembling.

"What is it, baby?" He coos.

"I—"

He snakes a hand between the two of you, ridding you of any and all thoughts as he rubs over your covered pussy. You're almost positive that if he keeps doing it, you'll start to leak through your leggings, right into his hand.

Panting, an old track plays in the back of your head, a deep voice, breathy and promising, gonna fuck you dry tonight.

You lean forward to kiss Zeke again, letting him suck and bite hard enough to make the frown on your face look natural, like he put it there.

Flames are licking up and down your legs, then your arms, but even though it's Zeke's lap you're sitting in and Zeke's tongue in your mouth and Zeke's fingers massaging your pussy, it's suddenly Mike you're thinking about, and well… That can't be good.

You tangle your hands in Zeke's hair, the different texture bringing you back to reality. His thick beard is scratching against your face. His bare torso is wiry with muscle and pressed to yours. He moves his hand and raises his hips to meet yours, a groan catching in his throat. It looks like he's finally losing his composure, cheeks flushed, eyes are foggy. When you break away, he licks away the string of spit holding you together, tongue running over his lip seductively.

"Can we—" you start, but Zeke speaks at the same time.

"It's getting late."

Blinking at him, you find yourself experiencing too many emotions to actually identify a single one. You feel your eyebrows knit together, but it’s more from your confusion than it is your frustration.

But, you don’t want to be frustrated. You don’t want to be or look upset about not getting sex. That would make you a terrible person, and you’re not about to make him feel bad for not being ready to take that step with you. You’ve been on the receiving end of that, and it doesn’t feel good.

The amount of times you’ve had to masturbate in the last few weeks is a little fucking ridiculous, though.

Nodding mostly to yourself to get your thoughts back in line, you slide off of Zeke to stand up. Your hand is trembling when you reach for your clothes, heat still coursing through you, but you manage to gently grab them from the couch rather than snatch them.

Shirt and hoodie back in place, you gather your things, feeling Zeke’s gaze on you the entire time. You don’t say anything, just nibble on your bottom lip as you run over all the events that took place over the night, what you possibly did wrong, what turned him off or just failed to turn him on in the first place.

After slipping everything back into your bag, Zeke finally gets to his feet and takes it from you, walking with you outside to your car.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he tells you, the picture of calm and collected while your body remains buzzing.

“Okay, yeah.”

He puts your stuff in the front passenger seat, shuts the door, and gives you a sweet little peck that you wish lasted longer.

Zeke says good night, begins walking back to the building, but stops and calls to you right before you shrink into the car.

Even from this distance, you can tell he’s looking you dead in the eye, face suddenly very serious when he tells you, “You can go ahead and stop wearing that hoodie.”

* For the first time since the semester started, lacrosse and baseball games do not overlap one another, and you're able to spend the warm afternoon in the stands, cheering on the friends you made over the last year.

The home team is dominating, Mike and Erwin are too fucking quick for their opponents to get in the way of. The way the ball just flies back and forth between them, like a game of keep-away, shows just how on-the-same-page they are. The other guys are good too, doing a spectacular job of staying one leg ahead, defending their star players and assisting in the offensive effort.

The last goal is made by Mike who launches the ball from the center of the field right into the goal, and both the crowd and the teams lose their fucking minds.

You're up on your feet screaming and clapping, voice breaking as your shrill cry tears your throat. You know you're being drowned out by everyone around you, but as Mike gets lauded for being the god he is—putting up with backslaps and hugs and a headlock from Erwin—he still manages to find you in the second row, grinning in that crooked way you love so much.

You don't know exactly when that started happening, probably sometime after Spring break. Or, maybe it was there since the beginning, just laying dormant at the back of your head so that you could focus on denying him.

It doesn't really matter now since you're actually with someone. That someone isn't around right now, but he's in your thoughts as your chest fills with affection and pride for your friend.

Erwin is shouting about another open party, and your mind is made up to not attend because Zeke wouldn't appreciate it, but then Mike is suddenly lifting himself onto the raised, concrete stands and pointing at you, and before you know it, you're hopping down the next bleacher without a care for the fans who have to lean out of the way.

He's incredibly sweaty as you wrap your arms around his neck, but you don't mind. You were so convinced he would be mad at you or try to avoid you.

You're very aware that you had hurt him by getting with Zeke, and while he had been pretty guarded for the first few weeks, he's opened up some since that day in the coffee shop, when you'd nearly giggled yourself to death. You hadn't expected that to be what cracked his walls, especially considering how that visit had ended, but you're glad that it did.

"Haven't seen you cheering for me in a while," Mike laughs next to your ear.

He's dizzy with adrenaline, swaying back and forth as he squeezes you, and you tell him, "If you make us fall, I will beat you up, I swear."

"Okay," he says in a stupid voice of obvious disbelief, "Whatever you say."

You've been texting more, going over homework together, though you haven't needed his help in-person since he had switched books with you that day. It had been so smooth and subtle, you didn't realize until you opened it to study the following day, immediately noticing all the notes and highlights.

It had made you cry like a little bitch in the middle of your dorm, and you called Mike to thank him without bothering to hide your tears and hiccups.

"Come to the party tonight," he demands, but it's so soft, like he's still giving you a chance to say no.

The crowd is still yelling, so you have to keep speaking into each other's ears, and you ask, "Why? All the Pike parties are sticky and gross."

"'Cause we haven't gotten drunk together in a while," Mike states in the form of a whine.

You snort, feeling his hair dripping onto your shoulder. You should probably be disgusted, but it's not the first time you've gotten sweaty with him, and it's definitely not the worst bodily fluid he's made a mess on you with.

"You know what happens when we get drunk together," you remind him with a smile he can't see. "Can't do that anymore."

"I promise I'll behave."

That's not the problem. You don't know if you can behave. You've been wound up for over a month now, and it is driving you insane. No matter how many times you get off alone in your room at night, you still ache as if you're being edged.

So, getting fucked up with someone you know for a fact can fuck you stupid… probably not the best idea.

"Miche," you protest, drawing his name out.

"Just think about it."

He leaves you with that, hopping down and walking away with his arms in the air as everyone surrounding you cheers for him until he disappears. You just stand there amidst the noise, shirt now wet as you contemplate the pros and cons of going to another PKA party.

As always, Zeke asks what your plans are for the night, but for the first time since you met him, you lie. * King's Cup and Rage Cage and Beer Pong galore. Party-goers are pooling onto the lawn, and you're just waiting for campus police to show because of the chaos, but you're not necessarily scared of it. So you go to jail for a couple days. Worse things could happen.

Currently, you and Mike are sitting on the sidewalk nursing beers and giggling at the new pledges who keep running around the house in less and less clothes.

"Honestly, this isn't that bad," Mike tells you. "Erwin suggested we make them all watch snuff together."

You give him an incredulous look as you raise the glass bottle to your mouth. "Erwin is a god damn psychopath, what the fuck."

"We had to do it and didn't turn out too bad."

"And, just like that, I'm scared of you."

Mike laughs before sticking two fingers in his mouth and whistling as a brawny blond speeds past in nothing but boxers—Reiner, you think his name is.

There are only a few new guys who stick out to you—that one, a long-faced kid named Jean, freckle boy Marco, and, naturally, Zeke's younger brother, Eren. He sorta skeeves you out, so you've been doing your best to stay out of his sight despite never formally meeting him before.

"Kid's kind of a prick, a little too cocky. Always talking about how he's related to Zeke, or should I say your lo-ver," Mike chuckles, sounding amused, but he still downs the rest of his beer afterward.

You let out a little growl, just drunk enough to be too honest, and grumble, "Not my lover. Also, I would never use that term. So cringey."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's weird and dramat—"

"No," Mike cuts you off, "What do you mean about him not being that?"

You fall back on the concrete, bumping the back of your head a little too hard and scrunching your face up.

"We haven't had sex. The dude just will not fuck me for some reason."

"Are you serious?"

You glance at Mike and find his eyes wide in alarm.

"As a heart attack. I have never been so frustrated in my entire life."

You probably shouldn't be talking about this with him, one, because you assume it's like twisting a knife right in Mike's gut and two, because the more you drink, the less self-control you have.

He grunts then tosses his bottle into the yard for some poor pledge to slip on.

"His loss."

"Whatever. I'm sure he'll come around eventually," you sigh then sit back up. "And, until then, I guess I'm practicing celibacy or some shit."

Mike laughs hard at that, and it makes you smack him on the arm. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying," he raises his hands. "You're, like, the neediest person I know."

"Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"In the bedroom, dummy. Obviously not all the time."

This is not at all where you wanted this conversation to go. The more you think about it, the more you feel that ache, the more you want to quell it.

"We should change the subject."

Mike looks at you, flipping hair out of his eyes and smiling like the cocky frat boy he pretends to be.

"Why? Gettin' all worked up."

"You are literally the worst."

You stand and finish your drink, throwing it a few feet away from Mike's as you tell him, "I need to get a little more fucked up if I'm gonna deal with your ass all night."

"Uh huh."

He follows you back inside, but while you make your way into the kitchen, Mike stops to talk with Erwin about one thing or another. It means he has to entertain the masses, talk about the game, and you post up against a wall to watch him.

You should leave. Mike is looking a little too attractive in his stupid fucking pastel polo, and you're supposed to meet Zeke for lunch tomorrow anyway. Zeke, your boyfriend.

Or, well, he hasn't said it explicitly, but you hold hands in public and ignore other people, just make it obvious that both of you aren't interested in anyone else.

Except when Mike sidles up to you with foggy eyes and a smirk he hasn't worn around you in a long time, you groan at the thought that you are interested in someone else. Even if it's just one night, god, you need it so bad. And, you know Mike can give it to you. Exactly the way you want it.

It's Zeke's fault, really. You know he knows how desperate you're getting. If he'd just explain why he doesn't want to have sex, you could deal with it much better than you are now, but he continues to leave you in the dark. It makes you think you're doing something wrong.

Then, there's the problem of feeling like the shittiest person alive every time you get frustrated. You've spent nights trying to rationalize it, but it's hard to think straight when you're so, undeniably horny.

"Don't look at me like that," you tell Mike with a scoff.

"Why not?"

"'Cause you said you'd behave tonight."

He cocks his head to the side and makes a face. "Did I? That doesn't sound like something I'd say to you."

"Oh my god, you're impossible. And, drunk."

"I'm not really that drunk," he waves you off. "It takes more than a few beers to get me fucked up, remember? Downfall of being this large."

Jesus, he really is rubbing it in your face now. Wide with muscle and so fucking tall. Not to mention his—

"I really cannot do this, Miche," you try again, gritting your teeth when his pupils dilate. "Zeke would be so pissed."

"So? Come on, just one more time. I didn't know the last time would be the last time."

You hadn't either. You don't know what you would have done differently had you known—maybe just taken the time to appreciate his incredible body more—but it doesn't matter now.

You try to sound firm and irritated when you snap, "You know you're being kinda manipulative, right?"

Mike tilts his head back as if you just shoved it, blinks a couple times, then swears out loud. "Oh, fuck." He takes a step away, eyes clear for the first time in several minutes. "I'm sorry. I didn't even—"

"It's fine," you wave. "I just wanted you to know. I'm drunk and you're hot, and I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke."

"Yeah, I get it. Fuck. If you, like, wanna leave, I won't stop you. It was a joke, and then it wasn’t a joke and—That was a shit thing to do."

"Little bit, but you get a pass this time," you laugh through your nose. "Just don't go pulling that bullshit on some unsuspecting freshman or anything."

He runs a hand through his hair, red with embarrassment, and you think to yourself, Mike is a good guy. One of the best. You don't know of many who would take that kind of criticism to heart—how many would feel genuinely guilty. It is college, and every girl knows the trend of fratty sports players getting off scot-free after being charged with sexual assault. Given his status at the school, Mike could definitely do something like that and get away with it.

But, he would never.

You push him gently to show you aren't mad, tell him, "I still wanna hang out with you. We don't get to as much as we used to."

Mike's small smile looks relieved as he takes a deep breath. "This isn't exactly the best place to just chill, but—"

"I haven't seen your new apartment yet."

You regret it as soon as it comes out of your mouth, your little tune changing ridiculously quickly, but you can't deny that you're curious. He's still your best friend, and you want to know what he's done with his new place. Is it bland like his old room in the house, or did he let his real personality show through?

"You sure?" He questions.

"Yeah. We can just, like, play video games or something."

"Are you sure?"

He must feel terrible. You can relate.

"If you don't want me over, just say so," you snort.

"No, no, of course I do. I just don't want you to feel weird about being alone or anything."

"Nah, like you said, you're not really drunk. I'll sober up with water. We'll be fine."

You don't know if you're trying to convince him or yourself. Without the presence of alcohol, you should be able to keep it together, and the distraction of Zelda or Mario will surely help.

"Okay, yeah," Mike nods. "Let's go then."

You don't even bother finishing your drink, just set it on a countertop and follow him out to his Wrangler. It's been a while since you've ridden in it. It's been a while since you've ridden him, your brain helpfully supplies, and as you pull up to the unfamiliar apartment complex, you once again begin to think that this was a bad idea.

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#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk x reader

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glassheartjukebox · 3 years

Text

coffee shop chaos

soulmate au! feat. sugawara

a/n: this is part of the 300 follower event, reblogs are always appreciated!

anyone that would create a soulmate system so asinine is one of two things: cruel or incompetent. if there is a god, and if that god designed the soulmate system, your first mission in the afterlife is to fight him. to grab him by his big ass neck and throttle him. after all, it is his fault the phrase, “i want her titties in my face” was tattooed on your arm.

your soulmates first thought when they see you is tattooed on your arm for eternity. what a joke. perhaps god had a sense of humor. not only did this system produce less than savory results like your own, it also was ineffective. unless you see your thought tattooed on another individual’s arm, you might not realize you’ve even met your soulmate. hell, maybe you’d already met the bastard that gifted you with this mark.

the tattoo had quickly become a problem when it appeared on your fifteenth birthday. at that time in your life, you were one of the youngest in your friend group. you watched as your friend’s marks were etched into their skin. some of their tattoos, like kaori’s “i think that’s the love of my life,” and akaashi’s “i could stare into those eyes for an eternity,” were wonderfully romantic. others were underwhelming, like bokuto’s “that must be the finest man alive”. but none had been as vulgar as yours. whenever the topic of soulmate marks arose, you were subject to teasing and pity. this naturally didn’t stop when you left high school.

the short sleeved shirts at the coffee shop you worked at had become the bane of your existence. passing customers their drinks across the counter left your tattoo in full view. looks varying from amusement (not so funny when it’s tattooed on your body), to pity (wow thanks! very helpful), to disgust (once again, very helpful! definitely chose to have this mark!) were often cast your way.

your friends tried to reason with you, tell you that if you met your soulmate at work he’d know it was you because he’d see your arm. at this point, meeting your soulmate might turn into a wwe match because of the tattoo they so graciously left on you.

even though it made you feel like an immature 15 year old again, you couldn’t help but envy some of your friends and coworkers tattoos. yachi, one year your junior, with the words “her smile is the cutest thing i’ve ever seen” tattooed in a dainty cursive font. kiyoko, one year your senior, with a simple “goddamn.” tattooed in bold. both of them blanched when they saw your tattoo before assuring you they’d seen tattoos just as bad (if not worse) on the boys from the volleyball club they managed in high school.

but it’s whatever. that’s life. day in and day out, you ignore the soulmate system and pay your bills while pushing through your senior year in college.

today is a rare day that the two baristas opening with you are kiyoko and yachi. previously, your interest in meeting your soulmate had been relatively dormant. after becoming closer with the two girls, you yearned for the companionship they spoke of. kiyoko had tanaka, her soulmate she’d met while managing the volleyball team at her school. he was the antithesis of her; loud, kind of a mess, and disheveled. but he was kindhearted and he never failed to make her smile. he knew just how to get her talking and how to fluster her. he loves her unconditionally. yachi only recently met her soulmate. she ran into kanoka, a division one female volleyball player, on the train one day. though their relationship was new, you’d met her numerous times when she’d pick up or drop off yachi at the coffee shop. their newly minted love was adorable. kanoka looked at yachi like she held the world in her hands.

you couldn’t picture yourself in a relationship like theirs. the image of your soulmate that your mind conjured up was some greasy old pervert. or maybe some 20 something frat boy with no respect for women. you could probably fry bacon with the amount of grease in his hair. maybe you could suffocate yourself with the copious amount of axe he owned to save yourself the misery of being with him.

it’s 6:45, and fast approaching the busiest time of the morning when you see a flash of gray hair in your peripheral vision. you barely register it, until you hear yachi and kiyoko happily greeting the man and doting on him. you slide the caramel macchiato you’d been preparing to the customer (she eyes your arm with a look of confusion. thanks lady) and turn to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on. goddamn, for him? you’d do the cooking, the cleaning, and the dick sucking. anything for that gorgeous man.

the man in front of you was all kind smiles, he held a satchel with a laptop and children’s drawings peeking out of the top. damnit, probably married with kids. doesn’t mean you can’t admire the view though. kiyoko begins to prepare his drink and yachi calls you over.

“y/n! come over here, i want you to meet a friend of ours,” she squeals. hesitantly, you approach the registers. “sugawara, this is my friend y/n. y/n, this is sugawara, he’s an elementary school teacher,” good, so possibly not married with children? yachi continued, “he’s also one of the guys from our high school volleyball club! his soulmate mark is the reason i didn’t find yours too shocking!” sugawara let out a chuckle while smiling at you, eyes full of mirth.

“it’s nice to meet you y/n,” god the way your name rolled off his tongue was heavenly, “wanna compare marks? i’ve never met someone with one nearly as explicit as mine.”

you smirked in response, “i’d like to see you beat me. mine is pretty bad.” leaning forwards you both displayed your arms simultaneously. you froze. all the blood drained from your face and your fingertips as you read “god i would do the cooking, cleaning, and dick sucking for that man” tattooed in a dreamy cursive font on his arm.

you looked up at sugawara’s face and he didn’t seem to be fairing much better. he looked like he’d seen a ghost rather than the tattoo on your arm.

“are you two okay?” yachi asked from behind you, more than a little worried.

paying her no mind sugawara finally made eye contact with you.

“oh my god i’m so sorry” sugawara's apology was garbled with your own declaration of, “please don’t hate me.” you stated at each other for a moment, akin to deer caught in the headlights before you laughed. what began as giggles turned into stomach clutching violent laughter.

“well, it seems that we’re equally dirty minded y/n” sugawara looked up at you, struggling to contain his glee.

you looked back at him, “i have a few minutes before it gets too busy, would you like to sit down? coffee’s on me,” you smiled.

maybe this whole soulmate thing isn’t too bad.

©glassheartjukebox all written content belongs to this user. do not repost, modify, or copy content

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jademakean · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

𝑷𝒂𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔.

｡･:*:･ﾟ

Drizzles of water began coating your body as you rushed to your best friend's porch, hurriedly knocking on the wooden door.

The extra holiday break from school allowed you to spend more time with Pauline, meaning: chaotic sleepovers

“Hello?”

You looked up meeting a pair of green eyes you hadn't seen in a long while. “Timothée?”

Once the slender figure came to the realization of who was waiting at his front step, his mouth went agape mirroring yours.

You both had been close since you were little. You became friends with Pauline in middle school and met Timothée through her. From then on you were a trio and would do everything together, but that all changed.

Him, being three years older than you meant that he'd go to college first and in the end, there would simply not be any time for you both to be together. You did try to hang out once every two weeks but his college was way too far and he needed to spend his time focussing on his studies. It ended in a bad note, with many hurtful words shared.

Before you knew it, Timothée had you in bone-crushing embrace “I haven't seen you in months, more than a year maybe! God, I missed you.”

“Why didn't you tell me you came back?” you couldn't hide the slight disappointment of him not thinking about letting you know. “I wanted to but I switched phone numbers and my sister wanted me to surprise you instead. I just didn't know I was going to see you this soon.”

Though you both shared your relief in seeing each, there was some strange tension in the air.

“I gotta visit my aunt right now but we should celebrate tomorrow or something.” He suggested, breaking the silence.

“Yeah totally. I'm sleeping over anyways so we'll probably see each other after dinner. Just be careful, the weather seems to be getting worse.”

“Oh yeah of course. If you need some clothes you can get some from my room, they're in a box on my bed. I know that Pauline's clothes are too small for any human being to wear.”

You giggled at his over-exaggeration nodding “Thanks. Stay safe.”

Once the door shut you felt your mood change. It's not like you weren't happy to see him, you were, but not being able to have the same connection you once had made your heartache.

“DJ Paulina in the house mother fuckers!”

You jumped at your best friend's sudden outburst but laughed nevertheless.

“Holy shit, you're wetter than the pacific ocean!”

You roller your eyes “Really? Damn, I wonder why. It's alright though, Timothée allowed me to borrow one of his shirts.”

“Wait you already saw Timothée?”

“Yeah, he just left.”

Paulina grimaced slightly knowing how hard it might've been for two introverts to reunite after a long period of time, let alone after they had a fight last time they were together. She quickly changed the subject not wanting to upset you.

That didn't mean she wouldn't plan on rebuilding your bond.

The snaps of thunder kept you awake and the heavy drops of rain overtook your mind.

As the time pasted you began wondering what would happen if there was a monster under your bed, if a ghost yanked you by your leg, or if the shadow of the hanging coat was actually a person.

Full-on scaring yourself.

And Pauline's sleep talking was not helping the situation.

Both of you spent the day baking, eating and watching movies. Though it's not how most teenagers take up the opportunity of an empty house, it was more than enough for you two.

What was irritating you at this precise moment was the fact that you were exhausted during the day and still are, except you, can't bring yourself to actually fall asleep.

Creaking sounds were heard throughout the room as your feet made contact with the wooden floor.

You grumbled making your way to the kitchen for a cup of fresh cold water.

The bright electronic clock on the stove displayed the time. 2:23 A.M.

You were so dazed and distracted by the clock that before you could fill your glass with water, the cup fell on the counter.

You felt your heart stop the second the loud sound emitted throughout the quiet space, fearing you'd break your best friend's parent's glass. But once you realized that everything was still stable, you proceeded to finish your plan.

“What are you doing still awake?”

Your body jumped at those words. You turned to see Timothée with hooded eyes and slumped figure, clearly more than half asleep.

“Sorry, I'm a light sleeper and the thunder was keeping me awake.”

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

He smiled softly with a droopy gaze

Not gonna lie, initially some inappropriate thoughts crossed your mind, but vanished once you remembered how every time you had trouble falling asleep, you'd get in his bed and he'd make conversation until you fell asleep.

“Sure.”

Timothée was probably too out of it to understand why it had taken you so look to answer, which you were grateful for.

He lazily intertwined your fingers and led you to his room.

It looked the same as before, maybe some items we're missing so he'd be able to decorate his new apartment, but other than that, still the same.

You hesitantly laid down turning your body away from the curly-headed boy. You felt yourself heating up as last time you shared a bed you were a quite innocent 15-year-old, and to be fair you've always seen him as a bother figure.

But two years have passed and he was now 20, it felt like being with a stranger even though he wasn't.

“You alright?”

He mumbled quietly

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” You chewed your lip anxiously. You've never been good at confronting people.

“Is there a reason why you got mad at me when you left. All I remember was you telling me how we couldn't be friends because of all the work you had and how you couldn't handle too many things at the same time. But in the end, you suddenly got mad at me and it ended in a huge fight.”

You could tell that Timothée was now fully awake, definitely not expecting you to mention the topic at this time of night.

“Well, in all honestly I knew you wouldn't want to give up on our friendship. I've always seen you as a loyal strong friend and I didn't want to disappoint you by continuously bailing out on our plans.”

Thought his solution was a stupid one, you understood what he meant. You would most definitely get let down many times and eventually get mad at him, even if it wasn't fully his fault.

“I understand. Just-- Just don't do that again. I'd rather have a relationship with you even if we rarely saw each other, instead of not seeing you at all. I miss being with you.”

Timothée's heavy arm hugged you closer to him. So close you could feel his gentle heartbeat against your back.

“I'm not as much of a mess I was back in the first year of college. I have more spare time, even if college is too far we can face time and meet once a month.”

It was nice to witness his change in attitude regarding the situation, he's now more open-minded and optimistic.

“Is that why you seemed so tense when you saw me today?”

You suddenly felt yourself redden from slight embarrassment “I mean yeah. I kinda overreact a lot, but you know that. I didn't even recognize you, you've changed and I didn't know how to feel.”

You felt chest shake from a deep chuckle as you played with his fingers “Is that a good thing?”

He was making you flustered and he knew it.

“I mean, yeah. You look mature for a 20-year-old. When you were 18 you still had your baby face- it's not a bad thing at all, but now you, um, okay I'm just going to stop talking.”

Once again, Timothée's body shook slightly from his laughter which eventually died down.

There was silence once again, the downpour was hitting the window aggressively but managed to make you feel calm. The heat that radiated from the man's body was wrapping you in a warm blanket, his cold breath tickling your neck.

“How do you see me?

The silence was halted by your simple question “What do you mean?” his raspy voice asked, not understanding the question very well.

“Before you said that you saw me as a loyal friend. How do you see me now?”

Timothée turned your body to face him “Well, you've changed as well. You don't look like a little kid anymore.”

You hummed in response staring into his eyes. The moonlight was shining through the window behind Timothée, illuminating his hair, making it look as though he was wearing a halo around his head.

“Has anything interesting happened while I was gone? House renovations, dead grandma, boyfriends..?”

You had to cover your mouth from bursting out laughing “How the hell do you go from dead grandma to boyfriends?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders waiting for an answer “I had a boyfriend for a little while but it didn't work out.”

Timothée nodded for you to keep going

“He treated me differently when we were around his friends, kinda like he didn't want me. We would get into a lot of arguments and I just wasn't happy. So I ended it.”

He took your hand caressing it carefully with his thumb. You knew he was trying to make you feel better though you weren't actually sad about the breakup. You decided not to say anything against it since his action-filled your heart with butterflies.

“He's an asshole for doing that.”

“Yeah well, most of them are.”

There was a small pause in the air before Timothée spoke up again

“I wouldn't do that to you.”

You were taken aback from his sudden confession. You expected him to joke around about some dumb stereotypes.

“If you were my boyfriend, or just in general?” you asked genuinely curious to which he answered:

“Both.”

You being the anxious human being you are, decided to play it off as a joke. Like always.

“Yeah right, you would never date me, you might as well be one of those extra frat boys that-”

“Why would you assume I wouldn't date you.”

You were becoming more and more agitated, not fully grasping the meaning of his words, and why he was now saying it.

“I've always adored you. The reason why I never said anything is because I'm three years older than you and didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why are you saying this now?” You shuttered out as he moved closer to your body.

“I didn't realize how much I loved you until we separated. Now I'm realizing how much time I wasted.”

Timothée began breathing heavily, his eyes focusing on the different features your face held.

“Would you date me now?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. “Even if we wouldn't see each other often?”

He nodded once again, this time speaking “I haven't seen you in two years and I still have feelings for you, they won't go away even if I tried.”

Timothée let his fingers gently brush against your lips studying them thoroughly making your mind hazy.

You were so focussed on each other that the background noise was now muffled.

Your mouths were agape wanting one thing and one thing only.

“Can I kiss you?”

He whispered breathlessly. If he wasn't studying you so closely he would have missed your little nod.

But he didn't miss it.

The second the small gesture was caught, was the second his lips made contact with yours.

The kiss was heated and desperate, your eyebrows furrowed hopelessly from the connection. Tongues soon intertwining as Timothée held himself on top of you for better control of the situation. Not giving you room to escape.

You sighed through your nose not being able to break from the kiss, not wanting to break from the kiss.

His front pressed flush against yours, allowing his hands to travel all over your body with no hesitation.

You mumbled Timothée's name against his lips before you broke apart. “Did I go too far?”

You smiled at his worried state “No, I loved every second of it.”

He copied your smile resting his forehead on yours “Sorry, I could help myself.”

He laid on his back before you cuddled to his side, leg wrapped with his and head resting on his shoulder.

Timothée observed your crimson cheeks and swollen lips. He wanted to tease you about it but he knew damn well that he looked the exact same.

Sleep eventually took over you. The soothing sound of the storm was the last thing you heard, and the motion of Timothée's chest calmly rising and falling was the last thing you felt.

#timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee angst #timothee fluff #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet

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pen-paper-and-ink · 3 years

Text

Champagne Problems

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Sam eventually went to back to his own apartment around noon, leaving Aelin with plenty of time to focus on her English assignment. Instead of a final test in English, there was a final paper, and Aelin was struggling with what words to put down.

She knew the book inside and out; the words just were not coming to her today. She could usually just sit at her computer and let the words flow out of her, but that was not happening. She eventually just went back and skimmed through her outline, getting herself to refocus. She finally gave up a half an hour later and resorted to texting Rowan.

“Want to come over and study. I’ll order takeout from Emry’s. It will be just like old times.”

The response came only seconds later. “I’d love too, but some of us have class in an hour.”

She could practically here the snort in his reply. “Could you possibly skip this class and study with me instead?”

“I would but it’s the last class before the final, and I need the review.”

“Boo. You suck.” She emphasized with an emoji that was sticking its tongue out at him.

“See you later, Ace :)”She swore he refused to use emoji’s just to spite her.

When she was finally done pouting, she eventually pulled her phone back out to text Lysandra, who easily agreed to come over. Although Lysandra was not diligent as Rowan when it came to studying and making study schedules, she was better than nothing, especially when Aelin was having trouble concentrating.

She showed up to Aelin’s apartment wearing an oversized fuzzy pink sweater and a pair of black leggings, as well as two chocolate bars. She might now be Aelin’s favorite person.

She definitely was not Aelin’s favorite person the first time they met, though. They were both petty and stubborn and got along about as well as cats getting a bath. That eventually changed the march of their freshmen year, when Aelin chased off a shady guy who was trying to follow a very drunk Lys into the bathroom at a frat house. Lysandra had been her constant companion since then, especially when it came to topics including clothes and boys.

“Hello, Babe,” Lysandra chirped happily as she strode into Aelin’s apartment. She shrugged off her bag and dropped the candy onto her plush sofa. Aelin went to wrap her harms around Lysandra who returned the gesture. “I brought chocolate as a study motivator for the both of us, but you already smell of candy.”

Aelin groans. “Shut up. Sam bought me this perfume, it’s his favorite.”

“Mhm,” Lysandra hums giving Aelin a conspiratorial grin, “I think he like’s that you’re his own personal snack.” Lysandra says wiggling her eyebrows.

Aelin only rolled her eyes at her friend, “whatever.”

“You smell good, babe, just really sweet. Even sweeter than that bath and body works body spray that everyone bathed their selves in in middle school, if that’s even possible. But I think he likes that. How many times has he bitten your neck when you have been wearing it?” Lysandra asked with further eyebrow wiggling.

“You’re way too into our love life. How long has it been since you’ve had date?” This time it was Aelin’s turn to wiggle her eyebrows.

“It’s been a while,” Lysandra moans loudly, but she turns her grin back onto Aelin, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

Aelin sighs loudly and slumps back onto her couch. “It’s not like he does it often.”

Lysandra snickers and she lounges next to Aelin. “So, I see it’s getting pretty serious. I even saw the picture he keeps of you in his wallet.”

“In his wallet?” Aelin snorts. “I didn’t think that people still did that. I thought the real milestone of a serious relationship was making a picture of your significant other your home screen on your phone.”

“Yes, you relationship guru. Are you ready to study now?”

. . .

It turns out that Lysandra was the perfect person to get Aelin to finish her English paper. About two hours after Lysandra arrived, Aelin had finished her paper, submitted it, and was able to eat her chocolate bar as a reward. They then watched a shitty romcom on Netflix until Lysandra had to leave for her evening class.

That now left Aelin plenty of time to get ready to go to the Cadre’s for the night. It also gave Aelin some time to harass Rowan about his class.

“How was class?” Aelin texted.

“Good. Did you finally finish your paper, you demon? Bribing me with Emry’s and everything.” Rowan replied.

“I finished it and submitted it and everything. I even ate a celebratory chocolate bar without you.” She brags.

“I just wanted you to know that I am rolling my eyes at you.” Was his only response.

“Would it kill you to just use the emoji?” Aelin demanded.

“Yes.” Well at least she had her answer.

“See you at the Cadre’s in a few hours or so?” She inquired.

“Yes,” was once again his only response. Boys, Aelin thought rolling her eyes. What was with boys and their one-word answers. With that, Aelin pulled up Spotify on her TV to blast some music as she prepared for her night.

She was having fun running around her apartment sing- screaming the lyrics to Teenage Dirtbag as she prepared dinner and tidied up her apartment. Pop-rock and other angsty songs which she listened to as a teenager, always brought back fond memories. Her friends always made fun of her emo music in high school, so she decided to switch to some more mainstream stereotypical party music when hanging out with her college friends. The mainstream stuff like Doja Cat and Cardi B, stuff that was always playing loudly at clubs and house parties.

Aelin also had a soft spot for love songs and romantic ballads. Frank Sinatra always reminded her of her parents spinning around their living room on a weeknight. She always thought that they were disgustingly in love. Always holding hands and kissing in front of her and her friends. Aelin now regrets giving them crap about it, especially since the time they had together ended up being cut short.

She ends up eating her frozen pasta dinner over the kitchen island as she hummed along to an old fall out boy song. She went to check her phone and saw a message from Sam which simply asked if she was going to be at the Cadre’s in an hour, she sent back a simple yes as a response and finished up her dinner. Once she was done, she decided that it was probably time to get dressed for the night.

Aelin loved getting dressed up. She found it calming. Once she picked out an outfit she would methodically paint her face and do her hair. She scanned her overflowing closet, her gaze gliding over black cocktail dresses, sportswear, blazers, sun dresses, and band T’s. She decided on a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized concert t-shirt since she just wanted to wear something simple, and the Cadre’s was a fairly run-down dive bar, though Aelin didn’t mind being overdressed, she loved her clothes and wasn’t afraid to show off and look fabulous doing so.

Once she was dressed, she went into her bathroom to do her makeup. She blended concealer and foundation into her skin, and painstaking lined her eyes with black liquid liner. She had decided on a classic cat eye with red lips, something you could never go wrong with. She reached down for her tube of lipstick then remembered that Sam got kind of soppy and romantic when he was drunk and reached for a liquid lip instead.

She then quickly curled her hair and accessed her appearance. Her skin was flawless, her eyebrows were groomed to perfection, the eyeliner accentuated her blazing blue-gold eyes wonderfully, and her crimson red lips went well with the look. Her golden hair was voluminous in big beach waves, she overall was pleased with her appearance, especially after spending the entire day in lounge wear studying. It felt good to be put together after a day of lounging around her apartment while trying to write. Overall Aelin thought she looked hot as fuck.

She quickly pulled on her heeled black booties, grabbed her bag and she was out the door.

. . .

The bar was so loud, the baseline of the song that was playing was all that could be heard. Lysandra had left the group about an hour in, to go flirt with some guy she had met previously that night and had eventually went home with him, after checking in with Aelin. Aelin dutifully took down the guys information, with Lys promising to check in with her later in the evening. That left Aelin to hang with the guys.

They had all gathered tonight. Sam, Lorcan, Conall, Fenrys, Rowan, and Aelin. They had all had a few rounds and were now all laughing over stupid shit, even Lorcan, who Aelin didn’t know could even laugh before tonight.

They were all giddy over the thought of finishing the school year. Rowan, Lorcan, and Sam were all graduating in a week, and Aelin and the twins were officially 75% done with their education. There was a lot to celebrate and drink to.

Aelin’s thigh was pressed against Rowan’s in the booth as they started arguing over which actor was the best Spiderman. That was the one habit they had kept from the time when they hated each other, the arguing. Rowan and Aelin were known to argue over everything, though now the disagreements were over trivial things and mostly just involved teasing. Rowan was arguing in favor of Tobey Maguire, which Aelin made gagging noises over when he finally confessed as to who her thought the best actor was.

“I’m sorry to inform you,” Aelin started, elbow on the table starring up at her best friends face, “That we cannot be friends anymore. I simply cannot be friends with anyone who thinks that Tobey Maguire makes a better Spiderman than Tom Holland. That’s blasphemous, and I will not stand for it.”

“You can’t mess with the original, Ace.” Rowan responds looking serious. “He just cannot be beat.”

“Yeah, Ace.” Conall responds, apparently feeling the need to weigh in on their argument. Rowan frowns at him, no doubt from the fact that Conall called her Ace, which usually only Rowan called her that, with the exclusion of Sam who had recently gone about calling her that. Rowan has always felt a little possessive over the name Ace.

“No, No, No,” Fenrys butts in, his words slurring slightly, “I agree with Aelin. Tom Holland is simply the best. Also, have you seen his lip sync battle? Tell me Tobey Maguire could pull that off. I dare you.”

“He can’t,” Aelin laughs, “He simply can’t.”

“I also agree that Tom Holland is the best Spiderman.” Sam says with a sly smile.

Rowan frowns at him. “You’re only agreeing with Aelin because she’s your girlfriend.”

Sam laughs, gets up and slides onto the opposite booth and sits next to Aelin, “No, no one can compete with Holland’s acting chops.” He says as he throws his arm around Aelin’s shoulders.

“There’s only one way to decide then,” Conall says with a smirk. “Lorcan must be the deciding vote.”

Aelin and Fenrys both protest loudly, claiming Lorcan had no taste, and that Lorcan would choose Maguire just to spite them.

Rowan shuts the protests up by turning to Lorcan and asking for his vote.

Lorcan looks sheepishly around before he says, “I actually think Andrew Garfield plays the best Spiderman.”

The group eventually quiets back down, as the night begins to come to an end. Lorcan was the first one to head out, claiming he had a final tomorrow. Fenrys left soon after, receiving a text from a semi-frequent hook-up asking him to come over. Conall then convinced Sam to play darts with him, beating Sam every round. Sam still seemed to be enjoying himself though, laughing every time he missed one of the rings, and once the board entirely. Aelin never understood why bar owners thought it was a good idea to put a dart board in the middle of drunk men with questionable aim, but who was she to question it.

Sam and Conall’s questionable game of darts did, however, leave Aelin and Rowan alone for the first time that night. Aelin had been missing spending time with her best friend. It seemed that every time they tried to get together, outside of their morning runs, they were busy or surrounded by other people.

“So, how are you Buzzard?” Aelin asks with a slow smile.

“How are you, fireheart?” Rowan asks, far too seriously for the night they have been having.

Aelin’s heart begins to pound loudly in her chest. He hardly ever called her that, only when he was feeling particularly affectionate.

“All’s good.” She replied, still smiling. Her heart pounded faster still when his fingers brushed against her cheek.

“An eyelash had fallen.” Was all Rowan said, still gazing at her with an intense stare.

“Oh.” Aelin said, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Rowan only gave her a sad smile as he stood up. He ended up tripping while trying to remove himself from his seat, which made her burst out laughing. Rowan, who was usually graceful to a fault, had tripped. He was more drunk than she had initially thought, he must be excited to be graduating.

“Do you need help?” Aelin asked.

“I am fine.” Rowan growled back.

“Are you sure about that?” Aelin asked, trying to hide her laughter. “You seem a little unsteady on your feet.”

“I’m fine, I’m going to head home for the night.” Rowan said, regaining his balance and his usual stoic expression. He grabbed his jacket from where he had been sitting.

“How about you come home with me,” Aelin offered. “You seem a bit unsteady there, Buzzard.”

“I’m fine,” Rowan said again. “I’ll get a cab. Goodnight.” Rowan threw her one last smile, then exited the bar, never bothering to turn back.

. . .

The dreams usually began with a dizzying array of colors, then quickly moved on to flashes of memory. Her heart begins to pound so loudly she can hear it in her head, in her dreams. Once her senses are overwhelmed with the shadow of memories and the deafening sound of her own heartbeat, is when she would stop breathing. The lack of air is what usually wakes her from her slumber.

Aelin Galathynius quickly padded across the floor of her bedroom to her bathroom, closing the door behind her, where she then vomited into the toilet. She always made sure the door to the bathroom was closed and locked, so Sam could not hear her, or accidently open the bathroom door in the middle of the night to find her lying on the floor next to the toilet.

After Aelin was done emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet, she slumped down onto the floor. The cool tile against her back, where her loose sleep camisole did not cover, always seemed to ground her. The hot flashes, the insanity from the dreams and then the vomiting always began to dissipate once she felt the cool tile against her body.

She laid on the floor for a while, breathing in and out and waiting for her pulse to return to normal. The memories she tried to escape during her day, where always ruthlessly unleashed during the night, pursuing her where she could not escape them. Although she couldn’t escape the dreams and memories, they were significantly better within the last few years, only occurring every once in a while, instead of every night.

Aelin thought back to her freshmen year, where she would drink all night long, or get into fights, just to try to stay awake just a little longer so she wouldn’t have to face what was waiting in her subconscious. Aelin was good at that, pushing things away, not examining anything too closely in case it might trigger a panic attack.

Aelin would eventually have to get up, brush her teeth and make her way back to bed where her loving boyfriend was sleeping, but she allowed herself to rest for a moment more on the floor. Though Sam knew what happened when she was eighteen in veiled terms, and through short bursts of vulnerability, she couldn’t get herself to admit to him that she still had panic attacks, and nightmares from her previous years. In fact, the only person who knew she still suffered through them was Rowan.

Rowan was her constant star and steadfast companion when it came to the pain of suddenly losing someone. He was also well aware of the way she tried to deal with it afterward, for that was how they found each other. They were both so wrapped up in their grief and their own self destruction that they couldn’t see the other person in front of them. When Aelin pulled her head out of her ass, as Aedion called it, and finally called a truce with Rowan, and later became friends with him, is when Aelin realized that they had the same grief festering inside them. They also had the same self-destructive streak, so they vowed to find their way out of the madness and grief together.

For a moment Aelin wished Rowan was with her, gently coaxing her get up and brush her teeth, rubbing his hand on her back soothingly, waiting for her pulse to slow back down. Rowan always knew how to reach her, how to soothe her.

Aelin slowly got up, and eventually made her way back to her sleeping boyfriend who was unaware that anything had happened. She tried to fall asleep next to her boyfriend, but she couldn’t, she was too busy wishing Rowan was beside her with his soothing touch luring her back to sleep.

Taglist

@rowaelinismyotp

#champagne problems #celaena sardothien #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #sam cortland #throne of glass #tog #au #lorcan salvaterre #lysandra ennar #fenrys moonbeam #connall moonbeam

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peppusae · 3 years

Text

[semi eita] ambivalence ch. 3 (nsfw)

note: this fanfic has multiple chapters, so please look forward to more!

ambivalence: semi eita x reader (ft. tendou satori x reader)

genre: smut

word count: 2k+ words

ambivalence

ch 3: all night

It’s a bit embarrassing to meet eyes with both Semi Eita and Tendou Satori after that night.

Tendou keeps his promise: You can see that he is dying to ask you what happened, but he remembers his promise and does not ask you anything about Yamagata’s frat party.

And you’re glad, because the sober version of you has already felt like that while remembering all the shameless things you’ve told Semi to do.

It’s even worse because it looks like Semi has the intention of being friends with you; he actually gives you a smile when you pass by each other during changing lecture halls, or when he finds you sitting with your friends at campus while he’s going back to his dorm.

The one time he caught you on your own by your locker, he had come to say hello to you, and you dropped your 589-page textbook onto your foot, almost coughed up your lung, and then blasted away to the library, too embarrassed to even respond back.

No wonder Satori looks so worried each time he looks at me… It looks like Semi hasn’t told him anything, and he is worried sick about finding out what was wrong with me.

It’s a good thing the week that followed was so jam-packed. You had 3 assignments back to back, and working on it during every minute besides your lecture hours meant that the week passed by in absolutely no time.

It’s a Saturday evening, and your usual Saturday evenings were ordering in food with Tendou, and the mad crazy adrenaline you two synergized together forcing you two to have sex - and these were the best kind, because it was during occasions like those when Tendou was his roughest - impatient and slamming into you with all his might so that he can fill you up before you’re food arrived.

Today, you’re laying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to a little funk and soul while you wait for your meal to arrive.

It’s a bit sad to eat your food on your own, so you watch old re-runs of your favourite show while you eat.

Halfway into the second episode, you’re interrupted by a call - from a number you don’t even recognize.

Usually, you would ignore unidentified numbers, but you remember that you one of your lecturers would call to - very annoyingly - give unnecessary feedback on everyone’s reports.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. I’d have killed Satori if he gave me the wrong number.”

It’s weird because it’s crazy how Semi could recognize your voice instantly when all you said was a simple hello.

And It’s even weirder that you recognize Semi’s voice, too - Not when most of the speaking he did was in a very groggy, whiny drunk voice.

Hearing him now, his voice is much deeper than you recalled it to be, and your hands start to shake.

“Semi?!”

“That’s me. I asked for your number. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

It’s a bit odd that he would choose you out of everyone he knows and is acquainted with, so when you ask what you can do for him, you can hear a loud sigh from his side of the line.

“Not over the phone, though. Do you know my dorm number?”

Semi Eita is hot. You aren’t going to deny that. You remember everything he’d done and how good his tongue felt as he fingered you as if his life depended on it. The thoughts are embarrassing and it never leaves your head while you finish up the rest of your food, not forgetting to brush your teeth and put your hair up into a bun before you take out your keys and head outside.

Shiratorizawa Academy houses it’s university branch students in dorms divided into two wings of the building. The girls reside in the right wing, and the boys in the left. The academy is actually quite lax about rules, despite this separation; the only rule is that the students were not allowed in the rooms of opposite gender students after dinner at 9 pm.

The gays and lesbians win, for that rule . You think to yourself, finding it a little humorous while you take the lift for the fifth floor. Semi had sent you a text with his dorm room number, and you walk into the hallway, passing by the doors and finally coming across room 514.

Semi opens the door when you give a knock, and he welcomes you in while he gives a little hesitant smile.

No words are exchanged while you enter the room that looks like an exact replica of yours. Honestly, there isn’t much one can do to make their room that much different from another person’s. Because all of the rooms house only one student, the rooms are just big enough to fit a bed, a small cupboard, and a study desk. There’s only so much one can do to decorate.

The bedspreads are neat, and his desk is filled with various textbooks and notebooks, but otherwise, the cramped room is quite clean, for a guy’s place. You glance at Semi, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden, remembering how you avoided him so hard for the week, but you’ve come instantly when he asked for a favour.

“So? What did you wanna ask?”

Semi takes a moment to look at you while he closes the door. The way he takes a step closer to you makes you flinch, eyes going wide and taking a step back instinctively.

“What-”

“Why do you keep avoiding me?”

“Semi, what-”

Your sentence is interrupted when he takes two more steps towards you, and your move back till your back hits the door with a loud smack.

“I’m… not…”

“I didn’t make you go home that night so that you’d avoid me. I just didn’t want to do anything to you while you couldn’t even tell my face from someone else’s.”

“I wasn’t that drunk…” You fib instantly.

“Did you not like it?”

Your jaw drops open. For a moment his upset expression shifts to a little sad one, and it makes your heart race because that was the complete opposite of what your mind was reeling about.

“No! I liked it!” You end up blurting out. “God, I’ve been thinking about you literally every night since.”

While you want to smash your face against the wall in embarrassment, Semi responds with a little blink, tilting his head to the side.

“Then act like it.”

Those are the last words you hear before you feel his body against you, and Semi kisses you in an urgency that makes you moan as soon as you feel his tongue on your lips.

“The way you act in public and the way you do when I touch you are worlds apart.” Semi states in between kisses, his fingers rubbing circles on your skin from underneath your shirt.You’ve never felt so cornered and so embarrassed, your face heating up already because even the way Semi kisses is you insane, like he wishes you to devour you while he has you pinned against the wall.

“Please…”

“Lock the door.” He says, moving away, and as fast as you open your eyes, they shut right away when he begins to kiss your neck. Your entire body is shaking by now, legs feeling so wobbly as you try to keep your little whimpering sounds as quiet as possible and reach a hand out towards the door. Your hands are shaking like crazy while you lock the door, and Semi does not waste a single second, taking a step away from your neck - which instantly makes you frown - and asks you to strip.

You take a few seconds to get over the high.

“What?!”

“I’ve been really, really patient for long enough.” He says, taking your hand and leading you to the bed where you sit down, legs still feeling way too wobbly to keep standing. “So strip.”

The way he runs a hand through his hair is so hot, and you’ve always known that he was really, really good-looking, but it’s the first time you’re actually attracted to him, so your hands are shaking a lot while you unbutton your shirt, undoing your bra and standing up to take off your pants. Semi cups your face, kissing your lips once again and you lose focus a bit while you try to take off your panties.

“Please, please, please. ”

Semi softly makes you sit down, still not breaking the kiss and you can hear him unbuckling his belt, the sound of his jeans dropping down making you feel wetter than you already are. You slowly open your eyes, watching the way his eyes look a little hazy and half closed, biting at his bottom lip while he peels off your panties and throws them away.

He leans in, and you move back, lips meeting once again feeling his tongue once again in your mouth while he gets on the bed, slowly leading you to the head. When you rest your head on one of your pillows, you aren’t able to open your eyes because you can feel two fingers sliding inside you without warning.

That makes you gasp, the sound of his fingers going in and out of your cunt so loud that you find yourself turning red in embarrassment. You open your eyes, barely able to see the way Semi watches your every move, and eyes going a little wide when you grab hold of chunks of his hair from the pleasure.

Instead of adding more fingers, Semi bends down, tongue slowly swirling around your clit and making you arch your back.

You could swear your brain short-circuited for a moment when he softly sucks on your clit right as he inserts two fingers inside your cunt, curling them inside and making your legs come closer together at how different it feels, like he knew your body so well to be curling in right at the place that makes you see white.

When you pull at his hair and moan once again with shaky legs, Semi rubs his lips on your clit, and you’ve never ever felt this way, so much that you come right away, all over Semi’s fingers.

Your head reels, and you open your eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but Semi...

Semi is surprisingly, agonizingly slow in his actions - much more so than Tendou.

And not just that, but Semi is mad stubborn.

You learn this from the way he glances at you with his face smeared with your juices - and then plunges another two fingers inside you again.

“S-Semi!”

“You finally called my name.”

“S-Semi, don’t-”

“What? I thought someone like you would want another orgasm right away?”

Your eyes go wide at what he said, and before you could say another word, he licks inside your cunt again, his agonizing rubs on your clit making your stomach form yet another knot right away, your legs shaking much, much more than it did the first time.

You feel so good, but you’re so embarrassed that you try to close your legs, calling his name - But Semi holds both your legs tight and apart, tongue never leaving your clit for a single second, pressing kisses and sucking so softly that your legs shake like crazy.

You don't realize just how much he had you under his control, until you come all over his face yet again, your entire body shaking while you have your eyes shut tight at the electrical feeling you’re experiencing.

“[Name]. How do you feel?”

You finally open your eyes while you try to catch your breath, and Semi is hovering over you now, pecking your lips softly before he slowly lies beside you. You extend an arm to the side, and Semi raises an eyebrow, saying nothing but coming closer to you, burying his face into your chest.

“I will never get enough of that, oh my God.” You mumble, wrapping your arm around Semi’s neck, feeling his hot breath on your chest. You think you hear him chuckle, you think you even heard the rustling of clothes, and you think you also heard the door close, but you can’t recall anything while you slip from the little line between consciousness and sleep.

---

#semi #semi eita #semi eita smut #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu setters

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wincore · 3 years

Text

sweet tooth | dong sicheng

pairing: vampire!sicheng x reader

words: 2.8k

summary: out of all the inconveniences a vampire boyfriend could pose, there’s about two tonight: a) him losing it at the next person who compliments his fangs, or b) you losing it at sicheng’s 100% blood alcohol content

genre: vampire!au, boyfriend!au, college!au, (tooth-rotting) fluff, comfort, humour

warning(s): mentions of blood, alcohol consumption, college halloween parties

song rec(s): candy - baekhyun // wish you were sober - conan gray

a/n: let’s pretend it’s halloween pls <3 also im sorry it’s so short and more drabble-ish but i wanted to write something gentle and comforting so!!! yeah ^^ also there is no plot. eep.

It’s two in the morning.

Or rather, it feels like two in the morning.

A frat party is a horrible substitute for an actual Halloween party. The alcohol content is through the roof and the number of pairs making out is enough to make you feel queasy. You never knew horror themes had the innate ability to make people so flagrantly horny—you’re half glad you’re not, god forbid, single. Most of your friends were too busy, however, to organize the close-knit party you usually have each year—so here you are, with an invitation from a friend of a friend (of a friend). Your boyfriend might be the only one feeling more out of place than you are.

You glance at Sicheng from the pool table, the cup frozen against his lips while his eyes scan the room from corner to corner. You don’t do crowds and neither does he; though he does have the unwitting ability to charm any crowd he’s in. You’re not quite sure if he’s still unaware of that.

You watch as a girl you can easily recognize from your campus approach him, all smiles and giggles. She says something and you scoff, almost completely certain about what it is she said.

Sicheng might be unaware of it—but you are, and painfully so.

She looks at him starry-eyed and the scent of rum wafting around her. A part of her jacket is off her shoulder, a faint blush covering her cheeks that you can spot even under the dim lights. She’s definitely flirting—you know that because rumours go around faster than assignments in this university. Choi Joohee has a very public, very open crush on your boyfriend.

It’s not like it bothers you. Not at all.

Just a little bit.

Jealousy has never been your thing and you’re half certain what you’re feeling isn’t even jealousy—just a taste of alcohol and the proximity of a Halloween house party.

Speaking of which, the only thing harrowing about this place is the amount of alcohol everyone seems to be consuming—including your boyfriend. Ten dragged Yukhei home a while ago and a part of you is still not confident enough to handle a boyfriend with very pointy fangs and midnight cravings for blood (or juice, as Ten disgustingly phrases it).

Sicheng nods along to something Joohee asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically on her and you assume he’s been zoning out the whole time. The urge to laugh surfaces and you swallow it whole. He’s so cute, even in this state. The lights dance across his face; candy blue, rich purple, saccharine red. The colours don’t help him stand any straighter, or slur his words any less.

You think it’s time to help your boyfriend out. However, the moment you walk through the swarms over to them, Joohee’s face sours. Of course, as the only competition (is it a competition if you’ve already won?) to the object of her affections, you don’t rank too high in her books. It made you a little upset at first, but you got used to it. (“She’ll get over it,” Sicheng had reassured several times. “Don’t worry.”)

People grow, and with that thought, you let it be.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joohee tells Sicheng and walks away, like he’s supposed to follow her.

You roll your eyes and turn to Sicheng, who’s had a very delayed response to Joohee’s departure. His head is tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded and you’re almost afraid he’s going to drop to the floor right there and then. This is bad. The thing about vampires is that they absolutely should not, under any circumstance, have alcohol. Calling your boyfriend a lightweight is beyond an understatement.

“Sicheng,” you call softly.

He turns to you, taking a moment to process, before pulling his lips into a wide smile. His fangs poke out even when he presses his lips back together, a contemplatory look over him.

“I thought you left me here.” He forces a sardonic smile.

Drunk off his ass and Sicheng still manages to be annoyingly sarcastic.

You open your mouth and close it again. It’s not like you can chide him without letting your fondness show. The Adonis features that grace his face don’t help. Flushed all the way to the neck, a drunk Dong Sicheng is very rare. The last time this happened must have been at least two years ago (and though you weren’t there then, the way Ten and Kun freeze up at the slightest mention, you decided to not ask).

“Why did you drink?” you ask, huffing. “You can’t even smell alcohol.”

There’s a short pause.

“Because you were ignoring me,” he replies, leaning in.

Heat washes into your cheeks. You forgot how unrestrained he gets with alcohol in his system.

Sicheng seems to have enough consciousness left in him to feel somewhat embarrassed, standing up straight and fiddling with his thumbs. You slip your hand into his without delay and pull, trying your best to navigate through the crowd. Is an ordinary Halloween party too much to ask for? Just when you can finally spot the front door, Sicheng stops abruptly, making you stumble backwards into his chest. He smells like the old deodorant he’s been using for a year underneath the smell of beer and… is that blood?

“Where are we going?” he asks sharply.

“Home, Sicheng,” you whine. “You can stay in my bed.”

He stays rooted in place stubbornly, and you wonder what it is now. This is the time you have to wonder if you’re dating a (potentially) immortal creature or a recently birthed baby.

“We should enjoy more. You’ve hardly smiled the past few weeks,” he mutters.

Your heartbeat spikes for a moment, when he brushes the hair from your face. All this time and he hasn’t changed the words he offers to you in private, the care on his lips and fingertips. A room full of people who aren’t listening is the best place to talk.

The first time you saw Sicheng was in the middle of the night, in the dark hallway of your shared apartment building, blood staining his jaw from a bag he’d acquired from med student Wong Kunhang. (You’re very sure that’s illegal.)

Needless to say, you’d fainted immediately after. When you came to, you were met with a man with pretty eyes and fangs poking out his mouth and in a bed that wasn’t yours. There was no blood this time but you screamed anyway, cut off by the man’s hand over your mouth.

“Calm down,” he said, voice surprisingly deep. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”

“You were planning to kill me?” you asked, panicking.

“I just said I wouldn’t,” he replied quietly, eyes wide and almost as stressed as you are.

Sicheng heaves a sigh, massaging his forehead. You shake yourself off the memories, tugging at his shirt so you can sit somewhere at least. The alcohol must have numbed his ears too. The low R&B tunes make no sense on Halloween night; even less when they’re played a few bars above the acceptable volume. If you’re not out of here soon, you might lose your hearing altogether.

The couch is slightly less stinky than you would have expected. (You grimace as you think to the last time you were at a frat party and in particular, the vomit.) Beside you, Sicheng mumbles about something you’re not quite sure of, a quiet rant with one-track emotions. It makes you giggle and for a moment, you forget the predicament of being stuck with a drunk vampire boyfriend who has just finished teething.

“Hey, guys.”

You look up to see Jihoon, the very friend of a friend (of a friend) who had invited you to this mess. It’s not like you harbour ill feelings towards him; but the guy has approximately zero ability to read the room. It’s mostly funny.

Sicheng makes a vague gesture that you assume means ‘hello’, sitting up straight so he doesn't look noticeably tipsy. You make light conversation with Jihoon, Sicheng’s arm around your waist tightening reflexively. You don’t plan on party-hopping, no matter how much Jihoon urges the two of you—seriously, does he not see the look on Sicheng’s face? He looks more zombie than vampire.

“You know, you don’t actually have to wear costumes for this, right? We didn’t set a theme,” Jihoon remarks, tilting his head to face your boyfriend. “The fangs are really cool, though. Holy shit. Dude, they look so real.”

Sicheng’s lips twitch but he forces them into a smile, trying to move as far away from Jihoon as possible. The fangs are usually not out and about in the open, slightly retracted during the day. The night, however, keeps him on edge. Sicheng hates the spotlight that only ever shows up for the wrong reasons, and he’d much rather graduate without having to deal with horny vampire-lovers. (It’s not that sexy; and you know from experience.)

The way Sicheng looks makes you wonder how many people have pointed out the fangs tonight. You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing.

“Thanks,” he responds, voice his usual deep baritone.

Jihoon leaves after being unable to draw any more conversation out of Sicheng, some peace gracing you despite everything.

If you ever write a book on how to deal with vampire boyfriends, the first rule would be to never kiss him at night. The fangs are not as withdrawn then and they hurt. (The second is, of course, to never let them get a whiff of alcohol.)

When Sicheng first kissed you, it was midnight and you were at the convenience store to buy a few lunchboxes and instant coffee mix. You’d yelped when his fang had pricked your lower lip, alarming the worker and around fifteen minutes of (dishonest) explanation later, the two of you had left without buying what you came for.

After fretting for a while, Sicheng had kissed you once more with careful consideration—till the damn fangs got in the way again. It was sweet for a moment—like candy—though, the metallic taste of blood had invaded it afterwards. No matter how awkward or painful it was, your elation outweighed the rest.

Kisses weren’t the only thing interrupted by fangs.

The turtlenecks and scarves certainly raised an eyebrow in your circle of friends. There was concern at first, then teasing and then a whole lot of inside jokes which made you want to smack each and every one of them. (“They’re hickeys, I swear, not vampire bites,” you had informed Ten. “Ew. I did not need to know that.” “Shut up.”)

Even so, Sicheng is warm—always has been, and not on the skin.

You feel pressure on your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck and you adjust yourself so it’s more comfortable.

“Tired?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

You shake your head at his lie. Gently pushing his head away, you get up from your seat and pull him up with all of your strength. Linking your arm through his, you smile at him when he raises an eyebrow. It’s time to get home, you’ve decided and these are times when one vote is enough.

When you reach the front door, stumbling out with your suddenly talkative boyfriend, the autumn breeze hits you. Under the moonlight, the rosy hue over his cheeks is clearer and even more so when he smiles.

“It’s like our first date,” he says.

You smile back at him.

“You were so embarrassing,” he adds.

Your smile drops and you smack his arm, eliciting a soft complaint from him.

Your first date was the only normal thing in this relationship—a date at the amusement park on Halloween, a bunch of kids mistaking your now boyfriend for Count Dracula and caramel popcorn smeared over your fingers.

Sicheng sighs, lowering his head to rest his forehead against your shoulder. The two of you stay like that for a moment or two, the party music finally fading and Sicheng’s warmth seeping into you. You fix the lapels of his jacket absentmindedly, fingers tracing over the material. His hands rest lightly against your back yet still secure.

A kitten lick at your neck jolts you back to reality. You gently push him by the shoulders, finding his fangs bared already. He stays unmoving for a few seconds before closing his mouth and going back to leaning against you, breath falling in waves against your neck.

“I’m not your juicebox, Sicheng,” you snap, frown deepening.

“But you have so much blood,” he mumbles, his forehead hot against your shoulder.

“Sicheng.”

He sobers up a little, pulling back with a stream of pouting apologies. You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling. Despite everything, your boyfriend is such a child sometimes. There’s a short pause.

“But wait, don’t go biting someone else’s neck,” you quickly add, flustered.

Sicheng suppresses a smile.

“So I can have a little—”

“No.”

Sicheng pouts but agrees enough to follow you, the two of you moving soundlessly over the sidewalk. Being alone with him has always been easing; you don’t need a crowd for comfort.

With fingers interlaced, you walk alone with him as the orange street lights cast shadows on the buildings lined up. A few more blocks and you’ll reach your apartment, get to push Sicheng into bed and pray he doesn’t throw up at your front door—and yet still, you walk as slow as you can as if the autumn wind will be gone as quick as it arrived.

The number of people shrink the further you get from the party, and you heave a sigh of relief, glad to be away from, what you and your friends call, the rich neighbourhood. The familiar path to your apartment, no matter the pricing, has much better air to breathe in. It’s past midnight and yet, you can see the city lights in the distance, the ones that never sleep—for the living or the dead.

Something runs into your legs and you jump onto Sicheng, who in turn flinches away with a strangled yelp.

You look down to see a giant golden retriever in a white blanket which you assume is meant to be a ghost outfit. It wags its tail, sniffing around your boyfriend’s legs, making him giggle as he crouches down to pet the creature.

“I’m so sorry!”

You look up to find a young girl holding a pumpkin almost as large as her head, an apologetic look over her head. Some part of you is happy to see a costume, considering you were robbed of yours. (Sometimes you dream of matching costumes but again, the damn fangs.)

“Piri loves people, I’m so sorry if he bothered—oh hey dude, cool fangs.”

Sicheng offers the fakest smile ever, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture. You sigh, apologizing to the girl before parting ways.

“That’s the eighth time tonight,” Sicheng says, scowling almost. “I counted.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. Calm, relaxed Dong Sicheng tends to lose it at repetitive comments with only three sips of beer.

When you reach the apartment building, clouds cover the moon and you draw your jacket closer to yourself. You think for a moment about the inevitability of time and whether you’re even allowed to fall in love this way. You push the thoughts aside almost inevitably. When the time comes, you will have a decision to make—and after everything, it is love which turns people.

For now, you can enjoy this Halloween night with your (literally) one-of-a-kind boyfriend.

You fumble around with the keys, Sicheng looking at you with sleepy eyes as he leans against the wall. He must be worn out from the alcohol by now.

“Hey,” he calls, the words more muffled than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, tugging him inside all the while maintaining your balance.

“You know my favourite blood type?” he continues.

You shake your head. “If you’re thinking of feeding, I’ll get some blood bags from Kunhang.”

Sicheng pouts. “You ruined the line.”

“Huh?”

“Yours. Yours is my favourite blood type.”

Despite the terrible execution of his so-called pick-up line, you find yourself shaking with laughter. You’re not sure if it’s the late night or the October air—the two of you share the silliest of laughter at the doorway to your apartment.

Within the moment itself, Sicheng leans in to kiss you and your hands move to run through his hair out of habit. The taste of beer and the prick of his fangs makes you pull away. You look at each other for a moment before you give in anyway and kiss him against the doorframe.

October ends with memories—your first date, Sicheng’s cooking disaster, and now this. It’s blissful for the few moments the two of you let it be. That is, until Sicheng opens his mouth.

“Oh, by the way, can you apologize to Ten for me? I think I bit him thinking it was you.”

“Sicheng, what the fuck?”

October ends with proximity, sweet as candy and warm as toast—stumbling into bed with all that and more.

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ktheist · 3 years

Note

for the drabble game: college!taehyung + sentence starters + no. 8 under misc

8. “But I’ve never told you that before.”

muses. fratboy!taehyung / college!taehyung

kim taehyung and you have an odd relationship.

you’re not even friends, really. just two friends of a friend who makes an accquaintance and happened to find themselves in a secluded class some time after 5, once most of the classes are vacant. the lecturers have their own rooms and the classes are manned by persons from the admin and they hardly ever come around until 8pm when it’s time to lock the doors.

you find out taehyung’s obsession for art and he finds out your obsession for interior design. at least yours isn’t too far off from what mechanical engineering entails.

at some point, you can even say your interests are like two streams running side by side until it mingles at one point in time.

then, you find out that he’s part of one of the most notorious fraternities for their wild parties that lasts for three days straight at the end of every semester. and oh, here’s the good part, only the popular ones get invited.

“figures why you haven’t heard of me,” you tease.

“what? no! i-i’ve heard of you, i just didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you,” his wide-eyed gaze hints at a sort of innocence his brothers lack.

you wonder how he got sucked into the frat house shenanigans.

“chill, i was kidding, i’ve been laying low anyway,” you wave a hand.

“wh-what? why?” he asks and you’re not particularly restricted to telling him the reason.

“first year, jimin and i would’ve celebrated our 4th year anniversary - if you can’t tell, we were high school sweethearts,” you laugh, chest still prickled with the kind of pain only time can heal, “but yeeun came along, he fell for her and since she’s more popular, everyone just started believing that i was the one who got in between her and jimin.”

the rage in taehyung’s eyes spread like wildfire, burning and tearing down everything in its path until you place a hand on his shoulder and he looks at you as if you’re a goddess sent to placate hades’ wrath.

“it’s chill, at least i’m one heartbreak away from finding the right one,” you say.

but taehyung finds you with puffy cheeks and pink eyes as you walk out of the bathroom. it’s no surprise and yet it is. kim yeeun spilled coffee all over your hair and shirt and the slap you give her still reverberates against the walls of the lecture hall.

your friends who came out a second later connects the two dots and nudges you towards taehyung before scurrying away, but not with a threat of ‘you better not make her cry more, kim taehyung’.

why they left you with a boy you barely know is beyond you - but perhaps it’s got to do with the fact that delta psi is in tight rivalry of beta nu, the frat jimin’s been loyal to after he broke your heart and gave his to the girl that’s been microaggressively picking on you since day one.

“i heard the red mark on kim yeeun’s face is still there,” he casually says three days after he’s been running up to you every time he sees you somewhere in the large building made for sleepless engineering students.

“it better, i almost twisted my wrist because of it,” you roll your eyes but taehyung must have known that the hostility is awkward, forced.

then, so it goes, the many instances where kim taehyung and you would be spotted laughing or walking together as if he’s the boy who mended the broken girl’s heart.

unbeknownst to them that you’re the one gradually breaking taehyung’s heart with your ‘you know what, i’ve never had a guy friend’ and ‘chill, you’re scaring my potential boyfriends!’ at parties he starts bringing you to.

“i can’t wait to see johnny again,” you confess, smile curling on your lips as you nudge taehyung’s elbow, “aren’t you curious who this johnny-from-hometown is? might be another subject of you death glares.”

surprisingly, kim taehyung doesn’t bat an eye at the mysterious mention of the name.

“i know, she’s your cat.”

he keeps on walking whilst you stop dead in your track. it doesn’t even take fiv seconds to notice your lack of presence on his side before he stops too, twirling around and shooting you and arched eyebrow.

“but i’ve never told you that before,” you feel your own brows coming together in a frown.

“you mumble in your sleep,” taehyung points out as if it’s the most obvious thing to do.

“oh,” you whole heartedly believe him, falling back into pace with him.

in hindsight, you should’ve probably been more careful when you talk about sleeping and being in each other’s presence whilst that activity was happening. even if it was just taehyung helping out a drunk and offering her shelter until morning comes.

“yoo jia heard it with her own ears! they’re sleeping together!” is what’s been circulating around at the start of the week while you’re stretching your arms over your head as a yawn escapes you.

“i don’t wanna be that person, but,” jennie kim loops her arm around yours when she finds you in the hallway, heading to your shared class, “are you and kim taehyung finally dating?”

“finally?” you feel the muscles on your face contort into an ugly frown, “wait, does that mean there’s been speculations we were gonna end up dating? what?”

and that’s how you find out the rumor that starts up a fire throughout your whole class. by noon, it gets almost impossible to ignore those prying eyes that sticks with you as you stand in front of taehyung, “did you know? about the rumor?”

“can’t say i didn’t,” he shrugs.

“god-” you smack his arm and he dramatically raise his shoulders in brace for impact, “-damn it, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“what good would it do if i told you? ah! cuddlebugs, you’re hurting me!” his voice is exceptionally loud.

“c-cuddlebugs? what the-” you’re rendered frozen and wide-eyed by his tricks yet something in churns with butterflies.

“i’ll see you tonight, okay?” he pinches your cheek and slips past you with a sort of smirk that you’ve never seen him wear.

everything gets weirder from there after.

you become hyper aware of what kim taehyung does or say, the way he has two smiles; a pure box-ish one and a titled smirk that’s just enough to get your heart racing when paired with a rase of his eyebrows. there’s a hint of masculinity under the scent of fruity floral juul he smokes and sticks to his shirt. and his touches tingle. they tingle like a ghost of a touch lingering on the hand that he mindlessly holds to keep you from being pushed around by the wave of dancing bodies.

he laughs when you pull your hand away and crosses your arm over it, “chill, i wasn’t trying to make a pass on you, just making sure you’re still there when i turn around.”

you’ve had records of getting lost in the crowd when it comes to parties - and when are parties not crowded?

taehyung hands you an unopened can of beer and you look at him questioningly because he always pops it open for you, “you don’t trust me to hold your hand but you want me to open your drink for you?”

there’s an underlying brazenness in his teasing tonight, as if he’s mistakenly decided to wear a cloak of a frat boy than the kim taehyung you’ve known and loved.

as a friend that is.

“whatever,” you gulp down the drink with reckless abandon, appreciating the bitterness that somehow roots you to reality despite the impending buzz that’ll drive you away from said reality.

and then you’re back to your old self, laughing and joking around in that bench outside of taehyung’s frat house, sitting a little too closely until your thighs are perched on top of his and his hand is drawing circles on the outside of your thigh.

“i don’t like that,” you confess, “the way you’re trying to act all sexy and hot,” and without any warning, you take his face in your palms, squishing his cheeks, not enough to hurt but enough to make his eyes go wide with surprise and that innocent glint in them, “now, that’s better. that’s my taehyung.”

then his hand travels up from your thigh to your cheek, caressing the heated area of your face with his knuckles, “but if i’m the cute, childish taehyung, you won’t see me as a man.”

“man schman,” you huff, hands falling into your lap, “a real man won’t feel the need to act masculine to get a girl.”

“then... if i tell you i-”

and that’s when you lean so far back, almost hitting your head against the metal edge in the process if taehyung hadn’t caught you in time. eyes screwed shut and mouth partly open, you mumble, “man... schman...”

taehyung shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. he unzips his hoodie and wraps it around you - that’s another one he won’t get back, but he doesn’t mind as much because-

“you’re lucky i like you.”

#taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fic #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts au #bts fluff #bts drabbles #drabble game 1 #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

I only have my self to blame...

Frankie Morales x you fic

Tags: A lot of cursing. So much cursing. Drug use. Angst.

Summary: I kept thinking about the coke rap they mention in the story. And I thought, what if Frankie was innocent? So most of this is about that, with a tense change so that when the reader enters the picture, it’s “you” -- no y/n.

I have never written a fic before. I am no nervous AT ALL. But I wanted to give something back, even though it’s not really romantic. I logged into my laptop so I could use cuts. XD I am ashamed at how long it took me to remember my password.

2,083 words.

It was, really, a bullshit coke rap, but it was still Frankie’s fault. He was flying one of the boss’s nicer planes, a pretty little Cessna Caravan, fitted out for luxury in the back, a curtain separating the pilot from the main cabin. The curtain was partly folded back, so the rich folks in the cabin behind him with their booze, lounging in their leather seats don’t have to stare at the back of Frankie’s tousled, ball cap covered head.

It also meant that he could hear what they were saying, the headset over one ear was quiet, but he’d already decided they were a bag of dicks and he wasn’t going to pay attention to them, as they laughed like a bunch of frat boys behind him. There was a mirror, angled so he could see what was going on, and once in awhile he’d look. There were five men and one woman, the men acting like a bunch of frat boys, the woman trying to pretend she was amused.

Frankie knew, of course, that the trouble was men like that made that secret chip on his shoulder come out. The one he tried to ignore. Because I’m better than that, right? They ain’t got nothing that I want. But they did. They didn’t have to worry about money…they didn’t have a new baby to worry about, they didn’t have to play the game of if-I-pay-this-bill-I-can-pretend-I-didn’t-get-that-one. He was tired, worried about his lady, scared that he was going to fucking fail her, fail their little girl, Luna.

He let out a long, pent up sigh. He itched to put on some music, was considering it when the shuffle of curtain fabric told him he was no longer alone.

The sole woman from the back gave him a shy smile. “Do you mind? They’re acting like idiots back there.” She had a stylish, blunt cut, a white button shirt and a short, black skirt. Everything was fitted perfectly so the clothes molded against her. It looked polished rather than cheap. He smiled politely and shrugged as she arranged herself gracefully into the copilot chair.

“So, you said your name was Frankie?” She reached out with a foot and nudged his chair. She’d shed her high heels, and, despite the shortness of her skirt was gathering her legs under her.

Lady, you might as well have a danger sign around your neck. He nodded, feeling a little out of his depth.

“Macey. Pleasure to meet you. You been a pilot long?”

He nodded.

“You don’t speak much, do you?” She was flirty enough that even he, usually captain obvious, caught on.

He gave her a sidelong look. “I’m trying to figure out how to slip the face I have a wife and kid into the conversation.” Wife was a stretch. He wanted to marry you, he dreamed about it. He wanted to give you everything – a nice ring, a pretty dress. A day to be a be special, to feel loved. Proof to all your friends and family that he could take care of you, that he was worthy. He was scraping up money, setting it aside. If he didn’t go for a diamond, maybe he could get her something else nice. Maybe an opal. Opal rings couldn’t be that expensive, right?

She laughed. “Sorry. I’m bored.” She held up a hand. “Scout’s honor, I will do nothing to hurt your marriage.”

He gave her a grin. “Well, then, tell me a story.”

“A story?”

“Yeah. Once we touch down in…” He looked at the time “About two hours, we won’t see each other again. So tell me a story. Something you’ve always wanted to tell someone, but you couldn’t.”

She arched an eyebrow provocatively.

“Not like that, not a secret. Just a story you want to tell. Can be anything, I don’t care.”

She looked bemused for a second. Then she starts, haltingly, as if she’s never had t actually make real conversation. As if she’s never had anyone to listen to her. And the thing is, she’s funny. Clever. He finds himself laughing as he does his thing, even throwing back a couple of smart remarks of his own. She has a gift of making him feel like he has a wicked sense of humor, and for a little bit, the cares he’s been harboring fall silent.

So does the cabin behind him, once. He has a mirror, set low, so he can see behind him. The ringleader of the group is glaring at him, not looking too happy.

Well, fuck him. What can he do?

A lot, apparently.

They land, and Macey gets up to go out the back. “Thanks, Frankie. Good luck with everything.”

“You, too, thanks for passing the time with me,” he says, and sets about the tasks. He checks gauges, writes things down, and finally, goes back and checks over the cabin. He gets out a basin from a cabinet and puts the used rocks glasses in it. He won’t wash them – he’ll just dump the basin on the sideboard inside the hanger. He doesn’t have to do the cleaning, but Allie, the janitor who usually cleaned up the planes, had hurt her back and everything, like picking up candy bar wrappers and throwing them away, checking the seats to see if anything had been left behind was an extra chore she did not need.

The plastic baggy was almost invisible against the beige leather of the seats. He picked it up, made a shocked little huff, like he’d put his hand on a snake. Coke. A pretty good amount of it, too. The old craving raised its head, making his hand shake a little. He heard voices, and shoved the baggy in his pocket. I’ll pitch it. He had to take a leak, anyway, he’d go, flush that garbage down the toilet, and there. Done. He wasn’t that man any more. It was the one thing he could do for you.

He grabbed the waste basket and put it next to the door, grabbed the tub of glasses and put it under his arm.

“Frankie? You in there?”

“Yeah, boss…coming.” Snagging the clipboard to put on top of the glasses so he’d have a free hand if he needed it, he went down the steps and onto the tarmac.

Hector stood there, hands in his pockets, looking ore hang dog than usual. “Yeah, boss?”

“The passengers said you were flying high, Frankie.”

That stopped him dead, like to concussion from a bomb, hitting his face and chest and taking out the air in his lungs. “What? No, I’d never…”

“They said that they saw you – just before take off. And you know, I don’t want to believe it, but looking at your eyes…they do look awful red.”

“I’ve been up late with Luna. She’s not been sleeping that great, and I can’t leave it all on…”

Hector nodded, as if he believed him, but Frankie had a feeling he didn’t. He’d give real money to know exactly what the fuck had been said. “Turn out your pockets, Frankie.”

You jackass. He attacked himself. Did you really think they just accidentally left that much coke behind? You fucking jackass. “I found some shit they left behind, but you gotta believe me, Hector, I am clean. I’ve been clean for a couple years now.”

“Just show me your pockets, son, then we can just leave this behind.”

He took the coke out. “I told you, I found it on the plane.”

Hector shook his head, and started to walk away.

“Look, I’ll take a test.” He jogged a little, caught the other man’s arm. “Seriously. You can watch to make sure I’m not cheating. You’ll see. I’m clean. I’ll take a drug test right now.”

“You just happened to find a baggy of coke? That the passengers happened to leave behind? And why would they accuse you, if it’s not true?”

Frankie dropped his hand. I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I said some asshole thought I was flirting with his girl and thought he’d get back at me…hell, I’m not sure I believe it.

“I’ll be reporting you. They’ll suspend you. Maybe they will go easy on you, you being a Vet and this being your first offense…but you need to clean out your locker. I’ll write a check for what we owe you.”

“I…I need this job.” He could hear an edge of pleading in his voice, and he hated it, but he’d go down on his fucking knees and beg if he had to.

Hector’s eyes hardened. “And I don’t need to send a druggie up in one of my planes.”

Frankie took the back roads home. There was an old farm gate, a place where he could pull off the road and stare, blindly, at overgrown fields.

“What am I gonna do?” He whispered, over and over, like a mantra. “What am I gonna fucking do?” His hands clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white. He could barely breathe, and when the words wouldn’t come he just sat there, panting, beating his head against the steering when and wondering how he’d survive this.

When his breathing steadied, he got back on the road, and went home. It was the only thing he could do.

You knew something was wrong, he could see it, but he wasn’t being exactly subtle, pressing his spine against the doorframe like he was ready to run.

“Hey baby,” you say, and he smiles a little. Tries, anyway.

“Where’s Luna?” He’s surprised how hoarse his voice is. He shouldn’t be. He’d been in some bad situations, but he’d never felt this a drift, this terrified.

“Laying down.” You say it sweetly, like everything is OK. You’re cooking bread in the over, something’s in the crock pot and everything smells like home and like everything left to lose.

You lean against the sink. If you reached out, you could almost touch him, but you don’t. There’s a look in your eyes, like Frankie is a wild animal, easily spooked and so you’re going to move slow and careful.

“I lost my job.” He says it so quietly he’s not sure you heard, until your shoulders drop a little.

“Oh, honey, what happened?” No recrimination. Not yet. You take a step closer to him.

So he tells you. He doesn’t lie, just lays it all out there. Not looking at you, not daring to, instead staring at the refrigerator door and all the magnets and photos and clutter. But seeing them, either.

“He didn’t believe you?” You practically shriek it out. “What the fuck…you’ve been an awesome employee for what? A year and a half now and he wouldn’t even let you take a damned test to let you prove yourself? Seriously? I’m going to kick his ass…”

The baby monitor interrupts her, Luna making fitful little noises. After all, the house was not that big. You hold a finger up to Frankie. “Hold that thought.” You leave the kitchen, shaking your head, and Frankie stands there, feeling like he’s on the edge of the precipice.

“Ah, Luna, baby, what’s wrong?” He can hear you, a much gentler, sweeter voice echoing out of the monitor. He stands over it, hands clutching the counter on either side of it, listening. You are both everything to him. Everything.

He listens to you say nonsense as you change the little baby, to you muttering about how such a tiny, adorable thing can smell so bad. “You must get it from your daddy,” you say a little louder, as if you know Frankie is there, listening, and he grins a little.

He doesn’t move, when you come back out into the kitchen, when you wrap your arms around him. You hug him tight and he starts to feel a little less adrift.

He turns, looks down into your eyes. “You believe me?” Puts his arms around you carefully, like he’s still not sure of his reception, because he still doesn’t feel like he deserves this, the right to touch you.

You reach up and cradle his cheek. “Always, mi vida. Always.” And he starts shaking, and he starts crying and he buries his face in your neck so you can’t see, and you toss aside the ball cap so you can stroke his hair. “It’s going to be alright, honey. We’ll figure it out. Its going to be alright.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #fix it fic #pedro pascal #our soft boi is innocent #mostly

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