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die-pink-maus · 3 months

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A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: Part III

❤︎ Drawing Credits: @lettaniko ❤︎

This is part three to A Weekend in Vienna. The love I’ve gotten on the first two parts has been so so so SO awesome! Thank you guys, y’all are making me feel a lot less anxious about sharing my writing, haha 🤗

♡ PART I 👉🏽 A WEEKEND IN VIENNA 🇦🇹

♡ PART II 👉🏽 A WEEKEND IN VIENNA: PART II 🇦🇹

TW: 18+, MDNI, heavy smut, mild sexting, mild asphyxiation, MDom, age gap relationship, dirty talk, female pronouns used, fingering, p in v, hair pulling 🤭, eye contact during seggs, size kink, quite a bit of German in this chapter

Word Count: 5129 // It is a HEFTY one guys 😅

Likes/Reblogs greatly appreciated 🥰

Enjoy! 💋

I woke up the following morning with a raging headache and thoughts that most certainly warrant a cold shower. My mind is clouded yet again with provocative thoughts of the large Austrian military man I had the pleasure of meeting yesterday, and how badly I wished to feel his lips against mine again. I could kiss that man all day and night, which appears to be part of what he seems to have in mind for me, amongst other things, as he so boldly pointed out last night. I hate that I have to spend my entire day anticipating our date later this evening, and I know Adrian is gonna have a billion and one questions about last night and what may have possibly happened between König and I. Sigh. I pulled the covers from my body and walked over to the window to open the curtains when I heard a knock on the door. I opened the bedroom door to find Adrian grinning from ear to ear with an extremely large bouquet of vibrant crimson coloured roses and an envelope in her hands. “What the hell?” I laughed. “Awww, did you get me flowers?” I teased.

“Haha, very funny.” She laughed. “I didn’t, but I have a feeling I may know who they’re from!” she shrieked excitedly as she handed me the flowers and the envelope, before skipping into my room and closing the door. “Chantelle” written quite beautifully in cursive painted across the front of the envelope. I set the flowers down on my bed and took a seat beside them as I opened the envelope. “Guten Morgen Schönheit,” it read.

“I just realized we never exchanged numbers, would love to hear from you before I see you tonight. I know roses are a bit typical, but they’re beautiful…not as beautiful as you, but close! Here is my number. Looking forward to seeing you again.

- König.”

Aw! I don’t think I can remember the last time a man bought me flowers, especially when it wasn’t necessary. He could have easily messaged Adrian for my number or have had her give me his, but I like that he put some thought and effort into it! I think I must’ve re-read the note at least 30 times, a goofy smile smeared across my face as I drowned out Adrian’s numerous questions. “Are you even listening to me?!” She asked as she shook my shoulder.

“Sorry,” I laughed. “What did you say?”

“What the hell happened last night?” She asked. See, I knew she wasn’t paying attention. “Soo…we kissed. Well, he kissed me.” I said as I felt my cheeks heating up, undoubtedly turning a bright shade of red as my mind replayed the moment we kissed by the bar rail. “How did I miss that?” She asked.

“You were sloshed.” I cackled as I watched her brows furrow. “You were glued to one of König’s friends pretty much the entire night, and telling the whole table these suuuuper elaborate stories, theatrical hand movements and all.” I continued, laughing harder as I recalled what she looked like while she spoke. “Fuck…yeah I don’t even remember getting home to be honest. I’m surprised I’m not sick right now, but I suspect it’s because I’m still kinda drunk.” She giggled. “So how was it?!? I need all the deets.”

“Incredible would be an understatement, that’s all I will say…I’m supposed to have dinner with him later tonight.”

“That’s my girl! I told you that man was into you.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, “I know, Adri. He’s just…kinda intimidating. I’ve also never dated a man this much older than me.” The whole age gap thing doesn’t really bother me, it’s just different! Not even gonna lie, its a bit exciting…he’s probably very experienced, but considering I haven’t slept with very many people, I am a little worried about not meeting his expectations. I also feel like I’m reciprocating his interest in more than just sex, and that’s making me a little nervous as well. The last thing I would want is to develop strong feelings for someone who lives so many miles away. Even though we only hung out for a couple of hours at a crowded bar, in between all of the sexual tension was great conversation and a medley of common interests. In all honesty, he’s really just one big, giant, sexy dork. He’s funny, he’s intelligent and well spoken, and it seems he can also be a little shy at times too, but a part of me is hoping it’s just me that brings that out of him. “I mean, I get it, but don’t let any of that psych you out. Don’t overthink it, Chantelle.” Adrian said. “Text him! Or call him, he may be on the base right now actually. Tell him to tell Horangi I said Hi!” She laughed as she walked towards my room door. “Think I’m gonna grab a couple more hours of sleep.”

“No problem girl, you definitely need it.” I giggled.

I stared at my phone, the number from the note in the envelope typed into my contacts and saved under ‘König🙈💕’. My thumb loomed over the “Send Message” button. Why is this so hard? Maybe because I don’t know what I want to say to him. Obviously I would like to thank him for these gorgeous roses, because it was just so…cute! And even though I literally know he wants to hear from me, my heart is beating so fast it feels like it could literally burst right out of my chest. I began to type, “Good morning König, it completely slipped my mind that we didn’t have each other’s numbers, I appreciate you reaching out to give me yours. Thank you so much for the flowers, they are stunning 🙈 How is your day going so far?” I took a deep breath and hit send, damn near throwing my phone to the other side of the bed. I stared up at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity before I heard my phone ding. I didn’t wanna look at first, for fear of it not being him and getting disappointed, but I sucked it up and reached across the bed for my phone. iMessage König🙈💕. I typed in my passcode and opened the message. “I’m glad you liked them, they reminded me of you 🙂🌹 I’m actually on the base at the moment, finished up a bit of training with a few recruits, now I’m just in my office taking care of some paperwork. How are you?” He texted. Below the text was a photo of him in what I assumed was his office, decked out in FULL tactical gear. I’ve seen military men in uniform many times before, but I’d never seen anything quite like this. This must be what Adrian was talking about before. His sniper hood — the black cloth that draped over his face underneath a helmet, eye black smudged around his blue orbs, the only part of his face that remained visible. I don’t quite know how to describe how I feel seeing this version of him for the first time, though it’s very reminiscent of how I felt the first time I saw him at the train station. It sure is a shocking sight. Definitely adds to the overall intimidation factor that comes with him as whole. I bet it does an amazing job at scaring off the opposing side. Hm. I never really thought I’d be into the whole ‘masked man’ thing, but seeing him like this is making me think otherwise. I can’t help but fantasize about being in that office with him right now. I can’t stop picturing myself underneath his desk with my fingers gently wrapped around his long, hard, throbbing cock, my tongue gliding over his leaking tip as he looks down at me. His mask and eye paint drawing emphasis to the look of absolute gratification in his stormy eyes, while his large fingers twist themselves up in my hair, pushing my lips further down around his shaft. My thighs clench together at the thought, desire seeping through my folds as I continue to look at the picture, relishing in the various naughty scenarios being conjured up in my mind. Oh, God why do I like this? “I hope my hood hasn’t scared you off 😅” he texted, immediately shaking me out of my trance. I figured I may as well send him a selfie back, but I began wondering if I should change out of my pyjamas — a large black Nirvana Tee and a pair of panties. Maybe I can have a little fun with this. I tapped on my camera app and posed, my shirt strategically pulled up a bit to give him a little sneak peak at the red thong currently nestled between my ass cheeks. “My day is just getting started! Your mask didn’t scare me at all…is it weird that I kinda like it? 😜🙈” I texted, sending the message along with the photo I’d just taken. “Maybe just a little hahaha, but I’m glad you like it. I’ll have to wear it for you in person sometime 😉” He texted back shortly after. “Do you sleep that way or did you put that on just for me?🤔😏” I giggled as I read the text, biting my lip as I thought of how to respond. It’s obvious that his military attire has lit a fire in my core, and I want him to know, but a little teasing never hurt anyone. “Don’t flatter yourself, I don’t usually wear anything at all to bed.” I responded.

“Oh is that so? ”

“Mhm…🙈”

“You’re very distracting, how am I supposed to get any of this work done now?”

“Me? Distracting? What ever do you mean? 🤨🤭”

“Oh, you know exactly what you’re doing, Maus, and it’s working.”

“What am I doing?”

“Making me want to drop everything to come keep you company in that bed, and give you a taste of what’s to come…I’d make sure you woke up with a smile on that gorgeous face jeden morgen.” Fuck.

“Yeah? And how would you do that?”

“Well first of all, I’m a hell of a cook, I’d make you whatever you’d like.”

“French toast?”

“With a nice side of the best bacon you’ve ever had, along with some fresh fruit 😋”

“Mmm…that sounds absolutely delightful!”

“After I’ve satisfied your tastebuds, I’ll make sure to satisfy you in every other way possible.”

“What else do you think would satisfy me?”

“A number of things, starting with slow passionate kisses…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of your lips, but I bet the ones between your legs are much sweeter. I’m dying to taste you.” My breath began to labour as I read his texts, warm slick seeping from my folds and through my panties as my fingers gently caress over my swollen clit. “How badly do you want me?”

“So bad I might rip through my cargo pants…” He sent another photo, only this one didn’t have his face — or rather eyes — in it. It wasn’t your typical ‘dick pic’, there was no nudity, but I certainly saw a lot. I stared, dumbfounded at the size of the print outlined beneath his cargo pants. I kinda figured it would be big, but I didn’t think it would be that big. I’ve never had anything that size but I got hot just thinking of taking it. Feeling him fill me up, pushing that boundary between pleasure and pain, fuck. I pulled my fingers from my panties, my juices coating them as I positioned my phone above them, capturing the strings of wetness connecting my index and middle fingers. “Komm und koste mich 💋” I sent along with the photo. “Schiße…maybe you might be the one who ends up being bad for my health 😂”

“Maybe neither of us is bad for the other…” A couple minutes of silence passed before I received another text. I figured he’d gotten caught up with work, or some…other kind of interference, but it appears he may have had something a little more serious on his mind. “I do think it is important to stress that as badly as I want you this way, it isn’t the only thing I want. I just want to make sure you know that I don’t just want your body, I want more than that.” He texted.

“What else do you want?” I replied.

“What I mentioned last night at the bar…to be able to come home to a woman as beautiful as you. I want you to be mine.”

7pm came a lot quicker than I’d expected it to. I guess it helps that König and I have been texting back and forth for pretty much the entire day. By the time he arrived to pick me up, I was ready to go. I decided to go with a black, mid length, form fitting off the shoulder dress, and a pair of strappy black heels. I styled my hair with my curling iron and parted it down the middle, before accessorizing with a pair of Diamond earrings, and my black faux snakeskin clutch. Makeup was perfect, not overbearing but not too light either, and then for the finishing touch, a few spritzes of Chanel’s Mademoiselle perfume. I damn near raced down the stairs, waving goodbye to Adrian and her aunt and uncle before walking out the door. Butterflies began to swarm about my stomach as he and I locked eyes, he was leaning against the front end of his car, fidgeting with his keys as he waited for me. He looks even better than usual — wearing a pair of medium wash denim jeans, a white crew neck shirt and a nice leather jacket. His hand outstretched to me as I approached him. I placed my hand in his as he gently pulled me in closer, placing his finger beneath my chin and tilting upward. “Hallo meine schatz,” he smiled as he leaned downward, placing his lips softly against my forehead. “Du siehst heute Abend sehr schön aus.” He whispered as he held my gaze.

“Dankeschön.” I said, biting my lip as he leaned forward to close the gap between our lips, his kiss dripping with longing and fervour. “Let’s get going, ja?” He breathed as his thumb gently grazed against my bottom lip. He quickly leaned back in for one more kiss before we got into the car. Ugh, I can’t get enough — and apparently, neither can he.

We arrived shortly thereafter at a very nice Italian restaurant. He pulled my chair out for me before taking his seat. It’s so sad that this is the first time I’m actually experiencing genuine chivalry, but men in North America do not behave this way. If anything, majority of the time it’s the complete opposite, but I won’t even get started on all that. The waiter placed menus in front of us both and filled our glasses with water, before departing as we looked over the menus. “Do you see anything that catches your eye yet?” He asked, a slight smirk appearing on his lips as his eyes peered up from behind his menu. “Maybe,” I began, fighting back a smile as I took a sip of my water. “How would you feel about a bottle of wine? Do you prefer red or white?” He asked.

“I do prefer white, but kinda in the mood for red wine tonight.

“Perfect!”

“Everything on this menu sounds incredible, but I think I’m gonna go with the Chicken Parmigiana with Linguine Pomodoro.”

“I think I’m going to go with the streak and veggies, been a long time since I’ve had a good steak.”

“Mmm that sounds yummy too, it’s definitely going to taste great with the red wine as well.”

“Oh definitely.” He smiled as he set his menu aside, his hand reaching for mine across the table, gently holding it in his as his thumb grazed against my fingers. I absolutely adore how affectionate he is. He is so different from the man I imagined he would be. While I’m sure there’s a side of him that is ruthless and aggressive, given his profession, he’s so sweet with me, and I have a feeling this is a side not very many get to see. He brought my hand up to his lips, planting soft little kisses along my fingers. “I can’t get over how beautiful you are.” He said “Ich könnte dich den ganzen Tag ansehen” he smiled, his cheeks adorning a faint shade of pink. Is he blushing? “Danke,” I blushed. “You look great tonight as well, the leather suits you.” I smirked.

“Oh what, this old thing?!?!” He said knowingly.

“Mhm, you know you look good, stop pretending you don’t.” I giggled.

“Hey, I admit to nothing.” He laughed as he raised both hands in defence. I laugh as the waiter returned to take our orders. “Are we ready to order?” He asked. “Ja,” König said. “Meine dame will have the chicken parmigiana and the linguine pasta, I will have the steak, medium, with a side of vegetables and mashed potatoes. May we also have a bottle of red wine please?” Something about him asserting dominance and placing my order for me had me clenching around nothing. I find it so incredibly sexy that he manages to remain refined and polite, all while also being stern. That tinge of aggression I see in him when he addresses others, and the attention he commands is exhilarating. As much as I can’t wait to eat, I’m yearning to be satiated in other ways that don’t involve food.

We remained at the restaurant for another 2 hours post dinner talking about everything and anything under the sun. I learned that he will soon be retiring from the army, enjoys fishing and hunting in his spare time, and collects vintage comic books. He’s a huge fan of all things classic rock and metal, but he also enjoys smooth jazz. He’s got a soft spot for cats and animals in general. He has a 5 year old black cat named Moritz, and adopted two German Shepherds for his base as pets. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, and I believe we both learned quite a bit about each other, and we both seemed to like what we learned. My nerves returned as we got into his car. What happens now? I’m really trying to decide what I’d like my next move to be. Should I go home, or should I go home with him? “Two days left before you go back, right?” He asked as he turned to me, a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Yes, unfortunately.” I sighed. “I wish I could stay longer, especially considering we’ve only just begun to get to know each other.”

“I also wish you could stay longer, but I assume you have a whole other life to get back to in Kanada” he sighed. “How do you feel about continuing to see each other, despite the distance?” I tried to contain my surprise as I pondered his question. I guess I never really thought he’d be interested in that, but it seems like every assumption I’ve made about König has proven to be incorrect thus far. Long distance relationships always make me uncomfortable, even though I’ve never been in one. Though I know it isn’t a relationship, at least not just yet, I do have my reservations about an arrangement such as this one. However, I do think I lucked out here. It’s not very often that you run into your dream guy on an impromptu weekend trip to Vienna. I think I’d be doing myself a disservice if I ended things on the basis of distance. “I still want to see you…I like where things are going.” I blushed, smiling as I saw excitement gleaming in his eyes. “I’m very happy to hear that.” He smiled as he leaned over to kiss me. “Sie werden es nicht bereuen, Maus.” He said lowly against my lips. I looked up at him, my heart beat picking up pace as we searched each other’s eyes. You could cut the sexual tension in here with a knife, and I think at this point the only logical option here is…I’m going home with him. “König,” I whispered.

“Yes?” He asked, gently resting his large hand over my thigh, causing a myriad of goosebumps to appear all over my body. “I’m not ready for the night to be over.” I said, a devious grin dancing on his lips as he started the car. “Would you like to come back home with me, Maus?” He asked, his hand gently gliding along my thigh, sliding upwards toward my core. “Yes.” I breathed as I reached over, pulling him down against my lips. It wasn’t long before what was meant to be a small peck turned into a full blown make out sesh, our tongues massaging against one another’s as his hand gently slipped beneath my dress. He pulled away, earnestly searching my expression for confirmation to go further. I nodded and pulled him back into me, moaning into the kiss as his calloused fingers approached my soaking wet folds. “Schiße…” he breathed as his fingers explored me through my panties, an array of tiny moans escaping my lips as his thumb rubbed against my swollen nub. His lips moved to my neck, softy sucking and biting along my sweet spots as he pulled my panties to the side. “Oh Maus,” he whispered, as he slowly inserted two of his fingers into my pussy. “You’re so tight…” he said as he began thrusting his fingers. “So fucking wet and I’ve barely even touched you yet.” He breathed against my lips, gently nipping at the bottom one as he pulled away and cupped my cheek. His expression riddled with satisfaction as he watched me squirm beneath his fingers. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes.” I moaned, as he pulled his fingers from my sopping wet cunt. “Good girl.” He praised, as he slowly pushed his fingers between my lips. I leaned forward, sucking my juices off of his fingers, my gaze never leaving his. “Mmm, that’s it liebe.” He said, indulging in the sight of me delighting in the nectar he’d procured from my folds. He grabbed hold of my chin and pulled me in for yet another kiss, but this one was different, it’s was needy and aggressive. His hand reached back down between my legs, his thumb resuming its slow and gentle dance over my swollen clit. “Such a beautiful little thing,” he whispered into my ear, his fingers reentering me, my head reflexively falling back as he massaged my g spot. “I can’t wait to pin your legs back and watch your toes curl as you take every inch of this cock.” He said, guiding my hand towards the large bulge in his jeans.

“Please König,” I begged. “I wanna feel you so bad.” My palm gently stroking against his hardness through his pants.

He smirked as his fingers slipped out of me, bringing them up to his lips and licking them clean. “You taste even sweeter than I imagined.” He said.

I slowly slipped the shoulders of my dress down my arms as König laid back on his bed, watching intently as my dress fell to the floor, my bra and panties following closely behind. He wandered about my curves through hooded eyes, drinking in every inch of me, his gaze growing dark as his bulge practically begged for release. I climbed on top of the bed and knelt beside him, unbuttoning his jeans as he reached for the hem, helping me slide them off and kicking them to the side. More than half of his hardened length lay erect against his stomach, peeking out from the waistband of his boxer briefs. Precum oozed from his blushing tip, droplets decorating the lower half of his stomach over his happy trail. I pulled down his boxers, jaw slack as I stared down at the entirety of his impressive length. “Fuck…” I said under my breath.

“Don’t worry, Maus. We’ll take it slow.” He reassured, clearly noticing the slight fear in my eyes. I nodded as I climbed a top his waist, straddling his hips as his hands began to squeeze and grope at my ass cheeks. We began to kiss, our bodies growing hot with anticipation, my hips gently grinding down, rubbing my engorged clit against his throbbing cock, covering him in the wetness spilling from my core. He wrapped his arm around my waist and flipped me onto my back, hovering over me as he planted rough, wet kisses along my neck and over my chest. His lips engulfing one of my nipples, as his hand clasped around the other, rolling my nipple between his finger tips. “Oh God…”I breathed heavily, my nipples growing hard and sensitive as he licked and sucked, gently biting and tugging on my nipple before switching sides. He began making his way down my stomach, kissing along my inner thighs before stopping to admire my needy cunt. “Such a beautiful pussy,” he muttered before hooking his arms beneath my legs, lifting me slightly off the bed as he pulled me into his face. “Fuck…” I moaned, quite loudly as his tongue engaged my nub, ferociously lapping and flicking against it as my hands grabbed hold of his bedsheets. “Mmmm,” he moaned. “You taste incredible…so fucking wet for me, meine Maus” he breathed, his breath hot against my folds as he darted his tongue inside me. “Fuck, König !” I exclaimed, the build of my impending climax growing more and more intense with each passing moment. “Let go for me, I want you to cum all over my tongue.” He growled. “Cum for me, Maus” adrenaline washed over me as I released, my orgasm pulsating through my body as he continued to suck on my hardened clit. His arms departed my legs as he lay flat and I attempted to catch my breath, three of his fingers entering my pussy, thrusting uncontrollably. My pussy squelched and clenched around his fingers as he began to curl upward, torturing my g spot as he continued to suck on my clit. “Oh König, you’re so good…I can’t,” I gasped. “I’m gonna cum again, oh my god”

“That’s it, Maus.” He praised as a second orgasm washed over me, this one much more intense than the one prior. “Mmm, mein Got you taste so fucking good. Look at the mess that desperate little cunt of yours made.” He panted. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”

“König, please.” I cried out, eyes hazy from the back to back euphoria my body just experienced. “Please fuck me.” I begged.

“You look so beautiful all dripping and spent.” he smirked as he leaned back onto his heels, grabbing his thick dick and sliding it up against my overstimulated clit. “I wanna hear you beg for it, Maus.” He smirked as he continued to tease my entrance with the head of his cock. “Auf Deutsch.” He said as he leaned over me, positioning himself by my entrance before leaning down to kiss me. “Bitte…” I stuttered. “Bitte fick mich, König.” I moaned as he slowly began pressing inward. “That’s what I like to hear.” He whispered, his eyes locked on mine, watching as my eyes widened at the sensation of his girthy cock sliding into me little by little. “Mmmm.” We moaned in unison, his hand clasping around my neck as he gently thrusted deeper and deeper into me. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Maus?” He asked as he bottomed out in me, his tip kissing my cervix. “For me to stretch out this pretty little tight cunt…destroy your cute little hole, Ja?��

“Yes.” I moaned, growing lightheaded as his grip on my neck tightened while he began to pick up the pace. “Yeah?” He moaned mockingly. “So tight, meine liebe…fuck you feel amazing.” He moaned against my lips. “You’re taking me so fucking well.” He growled, eyes piercing into me as he thrusted harder and faster.

“God König…you’re so fucking big.” I moaned. “Love the way you fill me up.”

“Mmmm, that’s my girl. You take it so well too, Maus.” He praised as he pulled my legs onto his shoulders, my moans growing louder and louder as he fucks me senseless. Obscene noises filling the air as my pussy gushes around his cock.“You’re such a good fucking girl for me.” He panted, swiftly pulling out of me and flipping me onto my stomach. He stood at the foot of the bed, grabbing me by my hips and pulling me towards him. I arched down, pushing my pussy down onto his cock as I looked back at him. His hand grabbed my hair, twisting it’s strands around his wrist as his other hand grabbed hold of my waist. He began to slam into me from behind, pulling me back against his chest by my hair. “God look at you,” he whispered. “So fucking cock drunk.” He breathed as his hand moved up from my waist to grab hold of one of my tits. My body begins to shake beneath his grip. “It’s so fucking good.” I moaned, tears stinging the corners of my eyes as he fucked my overstimulated cunt, shockwaves rumbling within my core as his cock twitched inside me, repeatedly caressing my cervix. My legs began to shake. “König I — I’m gonna cum” I cried out.

“Good.” He whispered as he spanked my ass. “I’m gonna cum with you…where do you want it?” He asked.

“My ass.” I moaned, my orgasm paralyzing me shortly after. He followed closely behind, whimpering as he quickly pulled out of me, his juices splattering all over my ass. He pulled my face towards his, placing a long tender kiss on my lips. “Du warst so gut.” He panted as he pressed his forehead against mine, cupping my cheek in his palm as we both tried to catch our breaths. I leaned forward and kissed him once more before he jogged over to his bathroom, bringing back a fresh towel and wiping his cum off of my ass. “Can I get you a glass of water, Maus?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind before kissing my cheek. “Sure.” I said as I smiled up at him.

That was incredible.

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moni-logues · 4 months

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Kintsugi 15

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.8k

Content: references to self-harm, description of self-harm scars, some chat about self-harm; oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, protected sex

A/N: I said I'd make it clear, so let's do that: IT'S THE END! THE FINAL ONE!! THE LAST CHAPTER! IT'S DONE!!! IT'S FINISHED!!! NO MORE!!! NO MAS!!!! FINIT!!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!!

I was so relieved to finish this yesterday and thought I would be glad more than anything to post this and finally (FINALLY!!!) bring the series to a close, but I honestly do also feel kind of sad it's over. We've been together over a year now, these characters and me; I've been actually writing them for a year but they first popped into my head 18 months ago. And now we're at the end.

Huge thank you to everyone who has beta'd for me, inc. for this chapter @quarter-life-crisis2 and @here2bbtstrash, @minttangerines, @blog-name-idk, and Amethyst

Thank you to everyone who has left comments and come along on this journey with me; it has meant SO much to me to have your investment in and enthusiasm for this story. It has made it so rewarding to tell and I hope you like their ending.

Without further ado...

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Chapter Fifteen - Spring

You rested your head gently against the window, watching the people come and go. The cherry blossoms had fallen already, gathered in gutters and collected in corners. You were always sad to see them go, but this year, you felt like they had given you something. Summer, of course, as always: the heat, the sun, the long days, the blessed relief of an ice-cold drink and even colder air-conditioning. This year, the cherry blossoms had brought you something else. Truly like confetti, they had blown around you, whirled around you, celebrating your first week of From Now On.

You didn’t say that you were getting ahead of yourself. Not this time. Because you weren’t that anxious about it, as much as that surprised you. You had all the anticipation of your first day at school with none of the nerves. The cherry blossoms had gone but they hadn’t left a hole; you couldn’t feel their absence because your life felt abundant. Last year, when you had watched them bloom and fall and fade away, you had been empty. All the joy they usually brought you couldn’t touch the sides of your despair. It hurt more to see them ushering in spring when you felt stranded alone in winter. But now you weren’t alone. Not even close.

It was a fairly mild day, just the cool side of hot, and still. You had been impatient and got ready early, hence the sitting and staring. Yoongi wasn’t due for another five minutes, but you’d been there for twenty already. You imagined you might see him on his approach to your building and get to observe him, unnoticed. You wondered what he was doing right now – driving? In a taxi? On the subway? Was he already on his feet, close to you? Was he nervous? You thought he would be. His shyness recently reminded you of when you first met, those tentative overtures of friendship, the thrill you felt when he opened himself up to you.

It was not unlike the thrill you felt now, waiting for him to pick you up for your very first date.

When he was due in no less than two minutes, you stood and moved to your mirror. You had, initially, planned to wear something that you considered sexier – that is to say, more form-fitting, a little more scandalous, a dress that showed off a little more of what your mother gave you – and then you changed your mind. You didn’t need to do that, because Yoongi already knew. He had already seen what lay beneath and it was all for him now anyway. So you dressed a little more comfortably, in a dress with a little more give, a little more fabric and flounce. You looked cute; you wanted Yoongi to think you looked cute.

Then, as you always did, you heard his footsteps.

“Babe!” you cried, leaning out of your door to see him coming from the end of the corridor.

But you almost didn’t manage to say anything at all because, whilst you had expected Yoongi, you hadn’t expected Yoongi in a suit, holding flowers. It stopped you short; you had been about to run out to him, jump into his arms, do something silly. Instead, you were flustered, grinning at him from your doorway, your heart going like the clappers and your blood roaring in your ears because god-fucking-damn, had he always been that handsome?

“No!” he called back. “Go back inside! What are you doing?”

What were you doing? Short-circuiting, a little. His hair was still long and you imagined it twisted between your fingers, soft and pullable; he was smiling, even as he scolded you, all his little teeth on display. You had always liked a man in a suit – you must have said it a thousand times – but you had not been prepared for how much you liked this man in a suit. You were going to have to get some kind of grip if you were going to make it through dinner.

“I’m saying hello!” you called back, a little too loudly now that he was closer. “I was going to run out to meet you!”

“Get back inside! I’m supposed to be picking you up! I need to knock on your door!”

Truthfully, Yoongi would have loved to have you run out of your apartment and into his arms, even if he’d tumbled, you’d stumbled, you’d both fallen to the floor in a bumped, bruised heap. He’d have loved to have thrown all caution to the wind and run away with you. But all of that was still overwhelming, far too much good for a boy who still thought he was bad, and there was a process to be followed, procedure. He was clinging to that. Like a life raft.

Yoongi had practised. In as much as you can practise speaking to a friend without actually speaking to them. He had forgotten, in all his anxiety about dating you, about being with you, being seen by you, that you were his friend. He’d had these feelings for you from the very beginning and they had never paralysed him like he felt they were now. He knew sex was not the (only) answer, that sooner or later, he was going to have to remember how to act around you. So he called each of his friends in turn to hang out with them, to remind himself, firstly, that he had them, that he was likable; secondly, that he enjoyed their company—he enjoyed company in general, more than he would ever let on; thirdly, that he could be good company: he got a laugh out of every one of them. That had to count for something.

And he bought you flowers. Because they would provide a good distraction in case all of these remembrances fell out of his head the second he saw you. And because he wanted to, because that’s what you should do when you take someone out on a date. He knew you liked tulips and it was tulip season. It felt right. And it released a little of his impulse to shower you with things, to buy things for you and haemorrhage cash to make him seem worth it.

For the longest time, money had been all he had. He had laughed out loud in his therapist’s office when he said that because, for the longest time, money was all he didn’t have. The not-having of money was the very thing that defined his life and set him on this path; it was the bedrock beneath the biggest of his life’s decisions. And then it became all he had. All he had to offer. He was still learning that maybe there were other things, too.

You did as you were told and shut the door, palms pressed against it as you listened to your heart and tried to make it slow. Then you waited six seconds until you heard his first knock.

“Oh my god, hi!” you exclaimed. “I had no idea you were here!”

Yoongi pretended he wasn’t grinning and shot you a look.

“Shut up,” he replied. “I bought you these.”

Tulips. Your favourite flower. You didn't remember ever telling Yoongi that, but maybe he just knew. They were another reason that April was your favourite time of year. Seoul Forest was full of them, hundreds, thousands of them blanketing the banks. There was a rainbow of colour in every direction; tall heads on sturdy stems barely touched by breezes, swaying like a choir. It was like a pilgrimage; you went every year. Maybe this year, you would take Yoongi.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

You took them from him, not bothering to try to restrain your smile from splitting your face in half, and leant in to kiss him. Then you stopped.

“Are we allowed to kiss?” you asked, one inch from his face. Then you moved away and started looking in cupboards for a vase you weren’t sure you owned.

Yoongi looked confused.

“Y’know, kissing on a first date?”

He still looked confused. Then you remembered. You laughed.

“Oh, of course, that’s right. You’re Mr Fucks on a First Date, aren’t you?”

You expected him to be surprised; you hoped he would be a little flustered, hoped you would get to see that pink creep onto his cheeks in a way that was just too cute. Instead, he grinned and you felt your own cheeks heat.

“Is that a promise?” he asked and your stomach swooped.

You had found a vase, tipped flower food into it, and were gently arranging the stems. You abandoned them in favour of moving closer him, then a little closer, slowly closer, until your lips were almost on his.

“Cheeky,” you muttered, eyes flicking down to his lips, amaranth pink and just a little pouty. You bit your own.

Yoongi hummed.

“So is that a yes?”

“Only if you play your cards right.”

You dragged your eyes up and slowly pressed a kiss to his mouth. His hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t stop yours from reaching up, tangling one in his hair, using the other to rake through the dark locks you hoped he never cut. It wasn’t exactly the kind of grip you needed to get, but every atom of your body was asking for more. It was intoxicating to be kissed by him.

It was Yoongi who broke from you (you did not have the same level of restraint), his mouth lifting in a grin as he nodded his head slightly towards the counter, where your tulips stood in their vase.

“Did I mention I got you flowers?”

“You might need to tell me one more time.”

You weren’t nervous. Not at all. On the one hand, you felt like you should be, because it was Yoongi and this felt enormous. When you stood back and looked at it, it was huge. He was one of your two (2) friends in this world and you were ruining your friendship good and proper. You could still remember the sharp-toothed despair that wound around you like a strait-jacket after what happened with Sungbin; you remembered the suffocating heartbreak of San leaving you. You knew that it could happen here. There wasn’t a guarantee that Yoongi was The One, that you were The One for Yoongi. It should have scared you.

But it didn’t. It was too hard to be anxious sitting across from him at dinner, as if you hadn’t sat and done this very thing with him dozens of times before. It was impossible to worry about whether or not he liked you when he looked at you like that, when he smiled in that way that you had always suspected was just for you. You knew he liked you because he was here. He had asked for this date and bought you flowers and he was laughing and teasing and being exactly the person you knew him to be. That didn’t make you nervous.

Yoongi had picked the restaurant carefully. Not too fancy, not too quiet, not too busy, not too empty, not too casual. He had spent a great many hours trawling the internet for reviews and photos and listings. He wasn’t usually this obsessive, but so much about it all had felt out of his control and this was in it. So he was going to get it right.

Sitting across from you, he knew he needn’t have bothered. Because he knew you didn’t really care. He wasn’t even sure, sometimes, if you knew what you were eating, because you barely stopped talking to shove it in. You spoke around the food in your mouth and whirled your chopsticks around as you gestured. You picked things off his plate and dropped pieces of your own food onto it. You had this way of creating a world around yourself, such that he forgot where he was; he forgot there was anyone else around, anything else to think about. And he realised he could have taken you anywhere and it would have been just exactly this good. Because it was you.

“Do you want to go for a drink or something? I looked up a couple of bars not far from here,” Yoongi said as he led you, your hand in his, from the restaurant.

You leant up against him, shook your head and pouted.

“No?”

You shook your head again.

“Ice-cream?”

Not that either.

“Ok... Do you want to go home?”

“Yes, please.”

Yoongi seemed surprised and you saw his eyes dim and realised—too slowly, clumsily for too much wine—that you had not exactly said what you meant.

“I want to go home with you, please,” you clarified, still pouting up at him.

“Oh.”

It took Yoongi a couple of seconds to recalibrate, then he smiled down at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Miss Fucks on a First Date, is it?”

You punched him playfully in the arm and he didn’t bother to act like it hurt.

“Do you want a drink?” Yoongi offered as you slipped off your shoes inside his apartment.

You shrugged. You would have one if he wanted, but you didn’t need one. You felt lush and warm and relaxed enough already. And truthfully, you were at home now, in the privacy of his apartment; you didn’t want to waste a minute with your mouth on anything that wasn’t him.

You kissed him, soft at first, because you did want to fuck on your first date, but you weren’t an animal; you had some patience. Or, that’s what you thought as you pressed your lips against his, but the thought washed away like writing on the sand as soon as you tasted him. All your impatience, all your greed, all your excitement came rushing forward, into the fray, a tsunami of feeling, all good, all for him, all surging through you like a stampede.

“I never,” you started, interrupting yourself with another kiss, one more. “I never want to stop kissing you.”

“Then don’t.”

You moaned into his mouth and pressed your body against his, suddenly too warm, hot, the fabric of your dress burning where it brushed your skin. You pushed Yoongi’s jacket off his shoulders and pulled at the knot of his tie. He laughed against your lips and pulled back.

“You know you’re just making it tighter?”

You whined and let him take over, deftly undoing the damage you’d done and loosening it properly, pulling it through the collar of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You thought that was quite long enough to not be kissing, to not be held so tight against him, you could practically feel his heartbeat in your chest, but he held you back.

When he started walking away from you, you rushed after him, grabbing his hand as he opened his bedroom door.

“Cherry?” he called softly, padding over to the bed, where she was curled up on the pillow. “You have to get the fuck out of here, ok?”

She ‘mrowed’ at him and rolled onto her back, exposing her exquisitely soft underbelly for strokes, purring when Yoongi put his hand on her. You thought to yourself that you would quite like to be the one purring under his touch, but had to accept that being jealous of a cat was insane, even for you.

“Come on,” he said encouragingly, lifting her up and walking away from you yet again, taking her out to the living room and placing her on the sofa.

“You mean you don’t even give her a free show?” you asked when he returned to the bedroom.

Yoongi’s face flattened and he looked at you, pretending not to be amused.

“Would you like to fuck in front of my cat?”

You jumped up and skipped over to him with a giggle.

“No, thank you!”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and wasted no time reconnecting your mouths. Yoongi, now the cat was out of the room and the door firmly shut, seemed as impatient as you were, his hands sliding under the skirt of your dress and up, slipping beneath your underwear and squeezing at your backside. His mouth moved to your jaw and then your neck, sucking soft kisses into your skin, holding you firmly close to him.

You were impatient because you wanted more, more, and even more of him and you wanted it now. But you also wanted each moment to last. Every time his lips met your skin, they felt softer; every time his tongue rolled over yours, he tasted sweeter; every time his hands squeezed, you felt your heart race a little faster. You wanted him immediately and you also wanted it to last forever. You couldn’t get enough of him.

He moved his hands upwards, outside your dress, and made light work of the buttons at the back that had honestly taken you forever to do up by yourself. You hummed.

“You’re good at that.”

“Hm?”

“Good with your fingers.”

He chuckled and flicked you lightly with one hand whilst his other freed a button from its clasp.

“Is that right?”

“Shut up, you know what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you meant.”

You shivered, even in the warm room, in the bright light of the sun streaming in through the window, when he pulled your dress off and you let it pool on the floor. You didn’t have time to be self-conscious, even if you might have otherwise, because Yoongi was on you, pushing you towards the bed until you were flat on your back, his mouth exploring your body as if he’d forgotten every inch of it in the last week. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and tugged down; you shuffled in response, lifting your hips and wriggling out of it in a way that was less than dignified, and less than efficient, but you didn’t want Yoongi to move off you, didn’t want to sit and then stand so you could do the job properly.

Naked, again, beneath Yoongi, fully-clothed, you held tight to his shirt collar and hoped he would let you know what he wanted. You wanted to let him lead.

And lead he did. He pulled one of your hands to his shirt buttons and you experimentally popped one open. He led your hand to the next one. You worked your way to the bottom, pulling the ends from his trousers, kissing him: his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He wouldn’t look at you and you could see the red on his ears; if you pressed your hand against his chest, you could feel the thump of his heart like a hammer.

“Baby,” you whispered as you slowly slid your hands under his shirt, his body warm against them, soft, not smooth.

He gave no reply and you nudged him gently with your nose.

“Baby, look at me.”

It took seconds that felt like minutes before his eyes met yours. They were guarded, unsure, a little bit afraid. You kissed his lips and smiled.

“We can stop here,” you reminded him but he shook his head.

“Go on.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded but his eyes were elsewhere again.

You pushed your hands along his chest, around his shoulders, forcing the shirt to fall to the bed. You let your hands see him first, your lips still employed on his neck. He was soft and warm and the dip of his spine slightly damp with sweat. You felt them before you saw them, laddering down his arms, criss-crossing his chest, a handful near his hip that were rough and scabbed, still healing.

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment that you had never seen Yoongi in a T-shirt. That he always wore long sleeves. You hadn’t noticed. Now you knew why.

Yoongi’s face was pink now, a little pained, uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Yoongi wanted to burst into flames and drown himself both at once. He didn’t dare open his eyes because he knew he’d not be able to see for tears. He was holding his breath, waiting for something he desperately didn’t want to happen, even though it always had. The shock, the disgust, the reluctance, the holding at arm’s length.

You took his hand and kissed his palm, kissed the single, thick, raised scar on his wrist and all the smaller ones that followed. You turned him around, guiding him gently so he lay against the headboard, so you could kiss him all over, each and every one of them.

“Babe,” you called to him, crawling up his body until you hovered over him, resting on your hands.

Then you lowered yourself on top of him, skin to skin, and stroked through his hair.

“Hey,” you tried again and Yoongi nodded slightly.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are you ok?”

He nodded again.

“Gonna look at me and say that?”

When he looked at you, it was a Yoongi you had never seen before. Shy and defeated and embarrassed and sad and there was something hurt in his eyes that almost made you angry – because no one was allowed to hurt him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

You kissed him once and then again and he cleared his throat lightly.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Yoongi...”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Some of the hesitation in his face left him then and he looked at you.

“Have you changed your mind?”

It was a little defensive, the barest hint of a challenge in his voice.

“No,” you answered. “Why would I have changed my mind?”

He looked away again, not answering, though you didn’t need him to. You both knew. But that would never have changed your mind. He could have been covered in slime or secretly a lizard-person and you’d have been just as soft for him as you were now.

Though you were glad that he was neither.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you continued. “Well, it does--” You noticed the clench of his jaw-- “because I know what it takes to do it...” You traced your finger lightly over the scars on his arm. “I know exactly how it feels and I hate that you know, too. I wish I could take it all away from you. So that bothers me. Because I don’t ever want you to feel like it’s something you have to do.

“But-” you pushed yourself up a little, sitting on his lap and pressing your hands to his chest- “actually, also, they’re proof you’re still here, y’know?” Your hand circled his wrist and you pressed your thumb against the worst scar there. “You might not have been. Any one of these could have been the last one, right? But they weren’t. It’s like... every time you do it, it’s a little bit of effort towards staying alive because there’s something worse you could do but you’re not doing that. So it’s proof. Proof that you’re here and trying and you’ve been trying and I, for one, am very glad you are still here. More than glad.”

He didn’t reply. You shrugged.

“And you’ve seen mine. My body is not exactly unscathed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.” His voice was stronger, more like his own.

“And there’s nothing wrong with yours.”

Yoongi had to get out from underneath you, had to stop you looking at him, at least for a moment. He knew that it had to happen, that you had to know, but this was too much. Too much of what he didn’t want and not enough of what he did. He didn’t want to talk about it or think about it. His chest was tight and he felt unsteady and he so badly just wanted to get back to you: you, naked in this bed, with him.

He sat up and his arms came around you and you relished the feeling of your skin on his, nothing but warmth between you. He kissed you, insistent this time, impatient again. He wanted you on his tongue, in his hands, enveloping him. He wanted to serve himself up on a plate for you, kneel and kiss your feet; he wanted to lose himself completely in the sound of you coming undone.

You shuffled off him and fumbled at his belt, at his zip, pushing them to the floor. You barely noticed the skin there, that was really more scar than skin; you didn’t see the light lines and the dark ones, crossing and re-crossing, thickening, fading, all over. Because it didn’t matter to you. That he wasn’t fresh out of the box, perfect and unblemished. No one was. And you shared a pain; the pain that led to these blemishes, these marks, these scars, it was yours, too.

So you didn’t see them as they were un-covered, as he stepped out of his clothes, as you took his cock in your hand. Hot and heavy, you pumped slowly, but Yoongi had other ideas.

He lay you on the bed and spread your thighs, trailing kisses up one side and down the other. You shivered when his hot breath hit your core and again when his mouth met your lips, his tongue licking through your folds. The pleasure felt brand new as he drank you in and you felt the exact right amount of drunk.

If you’d been sober, this would have been too quick; you’d have been too easy, too alert. It would all have been over too soon. But the alcohol blurred the edges, dulled your senses just enough to allow you to luxuriate in it: the soft, wet pad of his tongue brushing over your clit, then hard as it pushed inside you; the press of his kiss-plump lips, their seal as he sucked at your swollen bud. Like swimming through champagne, everything was fizzing and golden.

The sun hit Yoongi’s head, so bright it made his black hair brown and it shone. You tangled a fist in it, pulling his mouth closer, tipping your hips and he flicked his eyes towards you. They were deep and glazed and only half-open, his tongue still pressed against you. You whined and rolled your hips, then did it again and he let you rut against his mouth until all your pleasure was coiling tight, down into a heavy ball in your core.

Then he pulled back and shifted his weight, lifting a hand from your hip.

“Good with my fingers, right?” he said, a lopsided grin on his face, mouth sticky and shining.

“Y-e...eess.”

You answer was punctuated with the slip of those fingers inside you, and your breath hitched by the curling of those fingers, the pressing of them against your front wall. Yoongi lowered himself again and put his mouth back around your clit, the suction hard and sure. You were squirming now, all your muscles tightening, everything drawing down, deep into your core before bursting forward in a wet rush of heat.

You sighed as your limbs flopped against the mattress and your chest heaved. Yoongi wiped his mouth and knelt back, similarly breathless. He took a hand to his cock and squeezed lightly at the base, hissing slightly as he did.

You slithered off the bed, to your knees, and tapped Yoongi’s knee, asking him to turn towards you, reaching for him, for his dark, heavy cock, your mouth growing wet at the mere thought of it.

Yoongi looked hesitant.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

You tipped your head to the side and frowned.

“But... I want to, though?”

He hesitated a second longer and you thought he was going to say no, but he turned and you did nothing to hide your enthusiasm. You pressed a kiss to the tip and let your tongue lick at the pre-cum dripping from it. Yoongi grunted and you grinned because it had actually been a long time since you’d had this kind of fun.

It had been a long time for Yoongi, too, since he’d had his dick in anyone’s mouth. He couldn’t even remember the last time. He’d forgotten the heat of it, the softness and strength of a tongue, the looking down at them looking up. It was frankly criminal, he thought, that you could be so cute with a cock in your mouth. It was every bit as good as he might have dreamt, as hot and wet as he might have imagined. You pushed forward and he could feel the back of your throat, see the tears sparkling in your eyes, caught on your lashes.

He had to stop looking. He tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. He clenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing down because, god, it had been so long and it was you. It was you and you had kissed him all over and you were looking up at him with wet stars in your eyes and your mouth was doing all that to him and he closed his eyes. Then you moaned with the tip of his cock at the very back of your mouth and he almost lost all control.

He swore, his throat tight, his thighs twitching. He placed a hand on your head and pushed back your hair, tugging ever so slightly to pull you off him. You wiped your mouth and grinned up at him; it was such a sweet, filthy gesture that he almost came again.

“You ok?” you asked and Yoongi fell to his knees. He answered with a kiss, licking into your mouth, pulling you against him.

“Yes,” he answered, mumbled against your lips. “Want to fuck you now.”

“Yes, please.”

And it was everything you had wanted. Everything you had forgotten sex could be. Yoongi held you close and fucked you slow and you kissed him and caressed him and the world could have fallen apart outside and you would neither have noticed nor cared.

There was something tearing inside Yoongi and he didn’t know what to do about it. Because you were holding him tight, pulling him so close to you, kissing him and moaning into his mouth and no one had wanted him this close, this soft, this slow for a long time. Ever. He had tried to pace himself before, tried not to rush through it but it was a blur to him now, the frenzy and the nerves and the uncertainty of it all rendering it choppy and indistinct. Whereas this was full high-definition. This, you, the way you touched him and looked at him, the way you said his name... it was like a dream. Like something he never thought he would have. The luxury of your warm body so close to his; the indulgence of your lips against his and your eyes sparkling like you had never seen a sweeter sight than him. That you wanted him. That you wanted him and let him know it. That you wanted all of him, as you ran your hands down his arms, as you squeezed at his chest and pressed your hand against his back, pulling him closer.

Because it wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just the thrust of Yoongi’s hips, his cock buried deep in your wet cunt; it wasn’t just the slap and slick of damp skin and arousal; it wasn’t just the pleasure you felt in your core expanding outwards, the heat in your blood, and tingling in your toes. It was all-encompassing; it was everything. It was this person who knew you, all the bad bits as well as the good, knew you and saw you and held you like you were precious. It was feeling safe and cherished and valued. It was knowing that your feelings were reflected, returned, reciprocated. It was the sweetness of finding someone who lit you up and being able to light them up the same way.

When you lay, side by side, spent and sated, you felt like you were glowing. You rolled onto your side, into Yoongi, as he rolled into you and you kissed him again, for the hundredth time or thousandth, it still wasn’t enough.

You slept soundly, without dreaming, without waking, until the sun was high in the sky again the following morning. You turned onto your back, throwing an arm behind you as you went, expecting it to hit Yoongi next to you.

But he wasn’t there. You rubbed your face and pushed yourself into a seated position, assuming he was in the bathroom and would return momentarily.

Then minutes passed and he was nowhere to be seen. You stood and scanned the floor for your underwear. Your dress was already picked up and placed over the back of a chair; Yoongi’s clothes, you could only assume, he had put in the laundry already. Your underwear was not hiding under your dress. You dropped to the floor and onto your hands and knees, to look down under the bed.

“Aha!”

“Aha, what?”

You hit your hand on the bedframe as you quickly pulled it back and span to face Yoongi, standing in the door with an iced coffee in each hand and a paper bag hanging from his wrist. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, bemused but charmed.

You twirled your knickers on one finger.

“Thought I’d lost them. They were under the bed.”

Yoongi merely ‘ah’ed and nodded, placing breakfast on the dressing table and swapping his jeans for light pyjama trousers.

“Did you bring me coffee?” you asked sweetly, knowing the answer.

“And pastries.”

You jumped to your feet and gratefully accepted his offerings, taking a long draw from the straw of a coffee so sweet and milky it might as well not be coffee anymore.

“Do you know how much sugar is in those, by the way?”

“Yep! That’s why they’re so delicious!”

“They’ll kill you.”

You shrugged.

“Oh well. I died doing what I loved: drinking sugary coffee.”

Yoongi chuckled and stepped forward until you were within arm's reach. You could feel his hesitation, so you took it from him, stepping into his body and offering him a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to get back into bed?”

You couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.

You could hear something out in the hall, something maybe like a cat’s purr, but also not a cat’s purr. Some sort of buzzing, intermittent enough that you told yourself you were imagining it at first. But it just kept coming.

“Do you hear that?” you interrupted Yoongi to ask and you held your hand up for silence as you listened for it.

A jarring, quiet kind of noise.

“Sounds like a phone vibrating,” Yoongi offered.

“Oh fuck!”

You scrambled, ungracefully, out of bed, still in just your knickers, and found your phone, buzzing against your keys, half falling out of your bag.

Taehyung.

“Hi, baby!” you greeted, overly cheerful because you hadn’t checked the time and you were almost certain he was calling because you were late.

You had planned to have brunch and a debrief. You had forgotten all about it.

“When are you coming home? I’m bored.”

You pulled your phone away from your ear and, upon noting the time, realised that you weren’t late at all. Not even close.

“What do you want, Teddy? I’m seeing you later.”

“I know, but I’m bored now and you’re a dirty, little stop-out.”

“Entertain yourself! I’ll be home when I’m home. I'm not leaving now just because you’re bored.”

He sighed dramatically at the other end of the line.

“So I suppose it’s love, then, is it?”

The word made your heart skip a beat and you didn’t turn around, just in case Yoongi was looking at you.

“Maybe.”

“You sicken me.”

“Fuck off. You’re happy for me.”

“Yes, I am, babygirl. I’m very happy for you but I’m also very lonely and bored. Can’t you just come home a bit early? Yoongi will still be there tomorrow but I am fading away by the second.”

“Dying from lack of attention?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll be home when I’m home, Teddybear. Try to make it until then.”

“Alright, but you’ll be sorry when I'm gone.”

“Extremely. Now leave me alone!”

He heaved another dramatic sigh before hanging up and you skipped back to the bedroom.

“Everything ok?” Yoongi asked as you settled back in his arms.

“Teddy’s being needy.”

“Do you need to go?”

“Absolutely not!” You snuggled in tighter and pressed your lips to his chest. “Not until the very last minute, please.”

Love. You thought about the word when you left Yoongi’s apartment very late that morning. You wanted to say it then and there, tell him, but it felt like a lot. It felt like your usual Too Muchness coming back. You had only been on one date. It was a lot of pressure to put on a person and you didn’t want to pressure Yoongi. You didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to take control and careen this fledging thing straight into a ravine.

It felt natural. It felt easy. It felt like everything you had wanted. It felt so right that it was maddening to you that it had taken you so long to see it. But you also understood that that had to happen. The time it took you to see Yoongi like you did now was time you spent getting things wrong and hurting and healing the wrong way and then the right way and you knew that this, this happiness you had that made you glow, that made your steps feel light, it was a result of that time, that patience. So you didn’t want to rush. Didn't want to push. You would still love him tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that and on and on and on. It could wait.

Until six days later, when you were sitting on the subway on your way home from work and you snapped. You didn’t want it to wait. You wanted to tell him. And you knew you could. You could say it and he could not and you would survive that. You would understand. And it wouldn’t matter because you knew he was in this, knew he would get there if he wasn’t there already. You chided yourself for waiting at all, because love should never have to wait. Love should be shouted from the rooftops, shouldn’t it?

So you got off at a different stop and changed lines and you walked as fast as you could to Yoongi’s building and you let yourself in.

“Babe!” you cried as you hastily kicked off your shoes and rounded the corner into the kitchen, a little out of breath.

“Are you ok?”

Yoongi had his apron on, a knife in his hands, vegetables on the chopping board in front of him and it was so sweet, so domestic, a perfect vision of everything you wanted. He was looking at you with concern, as well he might, given you had just burst in, unannounced, in all kinds of a fluster.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you panted. “I just had to tell you. I love you.” You moved closer to him; he put the knife down and wiped his hands on his apron and you held tight to it. “I love you. As in, I am in love with you. I love you so much. And I know, I know, it’s been no time at all and it’s too soon and it’s too quick and you don’t have to say it and I don’t want to put any pressure on but I just want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you and I wasn’t going to because- because all of the above! But I love you and I want you to know that I love you. I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He blinked a little and then a bit more.

“Oh.”

He sounded surprised and you laughed because you were nervous and because you felt giddy and silly and so in fucking love. You tugged him closer with his apron and kissed him, firmly at first, then softer when he kissed you back and rested his hands on your hips.

“I love you.”

He said it quietly, his mouth still close enough to yours that you could feel his lips move with the words. You laughed again and kissed him again and whispered it back to him.

“I love you.”

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fluff #bts fluff

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bellaxgiornata · 10 months

Text

Safe Haven [Chapter Thirteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: You get a Mikey POV at the beginning of this chapter! And a bit of fluff at the end finally to make up for the previous chapters ending! I admittedly edited this fast so I hope I did not miss any grievous errors. I just wanted to get the next chapter posted already. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites

Michael had experienced many situations in his life where he'd been nervous before–times when he’d been on edge. Oftentimes he felt like that before clipping someone and hoping the job went off without incident. And considering the things he’d done over the years, he really shouldn’t have been as nervous as he was right now. But yet here he was, still somehow finding himself anxious as he walked up the drive next door, making his way towards his neighbor's house and hoping for a chance to speak with you.

He thought the date yesterday morning had gone well–you'd even told him you'd enjoyed it. Granted he supposed that was before he thought he was being followed home after the coffee you'd both gotten and he had pulled you down a side street hoping to protect you from bullets meant only for him. And then Amanda had interrupted both of you with a situation that honestly could have waited until later that day instead of her ruining Michael’s date with you. He wished she had showed up after he'd finished spending his morning tangled in his sheets with you. He hadn't anticipated you being quite that bold on a first date, and it certainly hadn't been his intention that morning to take you back to his place for sex after the coffees, but he also couldn't deny that he'd wanted to, either. Over the past few days he’d found himself often wondering what pretty sounds you would make when he finally got you in his bed and his face buried between your thighs. He’d admittedly often found himself growing hard at those thoughts and in need of relief, conjuring up scenarios while he was in the shower. So Michael had been incredibly irritated when Amanda had popped by and interfered.

But then you'd completely flipped on him. He knew Amanda’s timing with family shit had been awful, and he knew that her diminishing what was going on between you both to just sex was out of line, but he'd figured you knew what she was saying was all bullshit. He thought he'd made it clear multiple times already that he liked you; hell, he'd told you as much a few nights ago when he'd stayed with you after your accident. He'd gone off on Birdy when she'd threatened you and he thought he'd made it clear he'd wanted you to stay here after that. That he would help protect you and your sister from your ex.

So why had Amanda’s words hurt you so badly? What had he been missing? Because to him, she had clearly been spouting bullshit, so what had he missed?

Michael had finally gotten your phone number at the beginning of the date yesterday, too, and while you'd told him not to call, he certainly had. Quite a few times now, actually. Though you'd never answered. After the fourth time he'd come to expect that, but he'd still tried anyway.

When he'd gone to bed last night, he'd noticed the curtains on your bedroom window had already been drawn closed. And when he'd woken this morning, they'd still been like that. You were shutting him out and it had hurt him more than he'd thought it would to feel like he was losing something he'd never truly had.

So he'd showered and dressed this morning before he found himself outside and heading next door. He figured he might have more luck if he tried to talk to you in person, desperately hoping you'd give him a chance and explain what he'd done so wrong. To find some way to apologize to you. But as he came to a stop in front of the door, he felt his palms beginning to sweat from nerves; he was afraid he'd say the wrong thing and make everything even worse. He was afraid you'd still refuse to speak to him. He was afraid you might be planning to leave again.

For some reason the thought of losing you before he could figure out what that pull he had to you was all about terrified Michael. Something about you had felt different to him from the very beginning, and it wasn't because you’d been hiding secrets from him. You were unlike anyone he'd ever encountered before–certainly different from the women he'd been with. It was clear on your face that you'd known pain in your life, that you'd had to do things to survive that maybe you hadn't wanted to do. That you were lonely and misunderstood. And Michael could certainly relate to that.

With a heavy sigh he reached out, knocking three times against the door. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets as he waited, hoping you'd be the one to answer. But a few moments later, when the door swung open, it was your sister who was standing there scrutinizing him. Somehow that had only made him more nervous.

"Hello Michael," she greeted, kicking a hip out and blocking the doorframe as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Wondered when you'd be showing up."

He sent Megan a tense smile, his hands curling into fists in his pockets. "Is Grace around?" he asked. "I–I was hopin' to speak with her."

"Figured as much," Megan replied, her small frame still commanding the entryway. "But no, she's not here."

Michael frowned at her response, his focus dropping to his feet. Was she lying because you didn’t want to talk to him, or was she telling him the truth? Were you really not here?

"You fucked up, you know that right?" Megan told him.

Michael’s eyes flew back up towards Megan's, hopeful that maybe she could shed some light on what had happened. If he knew then maybe he could fix things with you.

"I’ve been tryin’ to figure out what I did wrong," he replied earnestly. "Been tryin' to talk to your sister but she's not answerin' her phone."

Megan's eyes narrowed back at him, a frown pulling at her mouth. "What do you mean you’re trying to figure out what you did wrong?" she asked slowly.

"I mean I don’t exactly know how I fucked up," he answered, shaking his head. "’Sides the way things ended on our walk back, I thought things were goin’ alrigh’. And I know Amanda interrupted things and was rude but–"

"Your sister-in-law called my sister a whore," Megan cut in sharply. "And you said nothing to defend Grace to her."

Michael’s jaw dropped, confusion drawing itself across his features. He’d never heard Amanda call you a whore, he’d have been raging and fuming if he’d heard those words come out of her mouth. And he sure as shit wouldn’t have sat back and let her speak to you like that.

"What?” Michael gasped. “I never heard Amanda say that. I swear to ya she’d have regretted it the moment she’d said that.”

"Did she say my sister was a quick fuck for you?" Megan asked flatly, her brows raising. "Implied she was just there for sex? That all you wanted from her was sex?"

Michael’s dark brows knitted together on his forehead, deep creases forming as he tried to make sense of what Megan was saying. So it had been what Amanda had said after all that had upset you.

“I–yes, she did, but it was bullshit,” Michael explained quickly. “I thought Grace knew that. Amanda, she hasn’ been alrigh’ after what happened to her son, I wasn’t lookin’ to further upset her. But I thought Grace knew she meant more to me than that.” He took a step closer to Megan, his eyes pleading. “Ya have to believe me, I didn’t mean to upset her. I care ‘bout Grace. I know I don’t know her well, but I care for her.”

The stern look on Megan’s face faltered briefly, but only for a second. “You had something with Amanda though, didn’t you?” she asked. “Grace told me you did. She thinks she’s just a distraction for you and that’s why you didn’t straighten Amanda out. You hurt her.” Her eyes narrowed back at Michael as she continued. “And I did warn you about hurting her.”

Michael’s heart sank in his chest. He hadn’t known her words had affected you so much. Hadn’t known that you’d been so bothered by the fact that he’d been with Amanda in the past. It had been so long ago now, a stupid affair that he shouldn’t have had with his brother’s wife. And she’d chosen Jimmy at the time, after all. That wasn’t what Michael wanted, to be someone’s second choice. To be less than. He hadn’t felt that way when he was with Allison, which was why he’d ultimately married her. Though he certainly hadn’t felt whatever he’d been feeling for you when he’d been with either of them, either.

“I want to make it right,” he assured Megan. “I just need her to talk to me. So I can explain myself. Fix things.”

“She’s too pissed at you to talk,” Megan informed him.

Michael’s shoulders dropped, his expression falling with them. Did that mean things were just over before they’d even had a chance to begin then? He’d already ruined things with you?

Megan’s arms uncrossed from her chest as she exhaled a loud sigh, the noise drawing Michael’s attention. Her expression had softened visibly to something less hostile and Michael eyed her curiously.

“You like my sister?” Megan asked him.

“Yes,” he answered instantly.

“And you’re not just fucking around with her?” she questioned next.

Michael shook his head swiftly. “No, ‘m’not,” he replied.

For a long while Megan stood there in silence, studying Michael closely, her eyes scanning his face. After a moment she nodded.

“I’ll help you because I like you and I think you’re genuine,” she said. “So don’t fuck this up. Are you going to be home this evening? Say…eight-ish?”

“I can be, yeah,” he said.

“I’ll lure her out to the back garden a little before then,” Megan told him. “For a sister chat. Keep an eye out–in a not creepy and noticeable way, too. I don’t need her knowing I helped you out here.”

“You would–would do that for me?” Michael asked.

Megan pushed off the doorframe, her stance no longer meant to intimidate. “I want to believe you’re a good guy and you have good intentions with my sister,” she answered. “So I’ll help you. This time.” She raised a finger, pointing it threateningly at Michael’s chest as her expression darkened. “But so help me if you hurt her, lead her on and leave her for your brother’s wife or something, I’ll fucking hurt you. I don’t care what your last name is. Are we clear?”

The corner of Michael’s lips twitched upwards into a small smile. He nodded, his hands finally uncurling in his jacket pockets.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I hear ya, and I don’t intend to hurt her.”

Huddled together with your sister on the bench outside, you drew the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a chill ran down your spine. It was colder out now that the sun had finally set, which wasn't saying much because it always seemed to be cold in Dublin. You felt like you'd been living in layers since you moved here.

"How'd writing go at that new coffee shop you visited?" Megan asked from beside you.

"It was good," you answered. "Nothing interesting happened. Just finished a chapter and drank some coffee. Dealt with social media shit for Angela."

You glanced at Megan sitting beside you, her head resting against the backrest of the wicker bench. Her focus was on the thick clouds in the sky above that threatened rain.

"How was your day off from the hospital?" you asked her.

Megan shrugged a shoulder. "I ran some errands. Went to my yoga class. Nothing too eventful." Her eyes shifted towards you. "Any sign of Victor today? Or was it a good day on that front, too?"

"Thankfully nothing popping up from him," you answered. "Nothing since that weird email I didn't open the other day, at least." You sighed, eyes dropping down to your lap as your fingers nervously fidgeted with the blanket. "It almost makes me more nervous when I go a bit without seeing signs of him lately. Like I feel like he knows I'm here and is just…watching me or something."

Megan's head rose from its place against the bench, her focus fully on you. Her left hand landed on your leg beside hers under the blanket you both were sharing.

"You don't think he knows though, do you?" she asked. "That you're here? You haven't even been here that long yet."

"I don't know," you muttered. "I don't think so but I just…I have this feeling, you know? Like he's getting closer. It makes my skin crawl."

"Let's not talk about it then," Megan said. "Topic change."

"To what?" you asked, still nervously fidgeting with the blanket in your hands.

"I don't know," Megan said. "Anything. Anyone catch your eye at the coffee shop?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Hands balling the blanket in them, your attention turned up towards the sky.

"I'm not here to date," you reminded her. "You know that."

"You need to live your life, Grace," she said, bumping your shoulder with hers. "You don't want to wake up some day years from now feeling like all you've done is hide."

You opened your mouth, entirely prepared to protest that you were living your life, but the sound of the sliding door opening on the back of Michael’s house stopped you. Gaze slowly making its way over, you saw him closing the door behind himself. Even in the dark you could see his eyes were clearly focused on you.

Stiffening on the bench, you saw him making his way straight towards you and Megan. You could feel your heart nervously pounding in your chest with each of his approaching steps. You didn't want to see him. To talk to him. You knew he'd been calling you since yesterday morning but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. It had hurt you that he'd let Amanda say those things about you, and it had hurt you just as much to realize it was most likely because he still wanted her.

"G'evenin' Megan," he greeted as he neared the fence, his attention briefly switching to your sister before it returned to you. "Grace," he said, tone a bit softer.

"Michael," Megan greeted back. "Come out here to freeze your ass off, too?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. Coming to a stop beside the fence, he placed his hands along the stone and leaned forward over it. He looked nervous as he focused on you.

"Was actually hopin' I could talk to ya, Grace," he said.

Beside you, Megan started pulling the blanket off from around herself. You caught her eye, shooting her a pointed look that clearly asked her not to leave you alone with him.

"Just talk to him," she urged. "If you want to yell at him afterwards no one is stopping you."

As Megan rose from the bench, you readjusted the blanket around yourself to keep warm. Your sister sent you a final, meaningful look before she made her way back towards the house. You heard the sliding door open and close, your eyes dropping down to your feet as you curled further in on yourself under the blanket.

Silence soon fell between you and Michael after Megan’s exit. For a minute neither of you spoke, your heart still beating heavily in your chest. But you refused to be the one to break the silence first.

"I'm sorry," Michael hesitantly called out. "I didn't realize that what Amanda had said had hurt ya."

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of anger at the memory of yesterday morning hitting you. "You think it's not hurtful to be called a quick fuck?" you shot back, your eyes still refusing to meet his.

"I thought ya knew what she was sayin' wasn't true," he replied quickly. "Grace, if all ya were was a quick fuck I wouldn't be lettin' ya in when my–my son was killed," he said, voice full of emotion. "Makin' ya coffee in the mornin' after. Runnin' to your house with a gun when I hear screamin'."

Your gaze slowly rose up to Michael’s face as he continued on, his words coming out faster. You could feel your anger slowly easing the more he said.

"I wouldn't have stayed with ya that night ya hurt yourself," he told you. "And told ya I liked ya in the mornin'. Asked ya out a second time feelin' like a dumb arse hopin' you'd change your mind and say yes to me. Actually give me a chance."

Your expression softened as Michael continued on, realizing he had a point. Though knowing that didn’t mean that he couldn't still have feelings for his brother’s wife.

“If ya were only a quick fuck, I wouldn’t have takin’ ya out for coffee,” he continued earnestly. “I honestly woulda been content to sit in that shop with ya all day listenin' to ya talk 'bout anythin' instead of goin’ home with ya after, Grace. I wasn't the one who suggested it, even if I’d be a lyin’ arse if I said I hadn’t thought ‘bout ya like that, because I have. I’m attracted to ya, I am, but–but that isn’t what I want from ya.”

“And what do you want?” you called out.

You saw the tension ease from his body at the sound of your voice. There was an expression on his face that looked a mix of sad but hopeful in the dim light from Megan’s house shining along him.

“I just want to get to know ya,” he answered. “That’s what I’ve been sayin’ all this time. I just want to get to know ya, Grace.”

Tightening the blanket around yourself further, you felt something flutter in your chest at his admission. “And what about Amanda?” you asked.

For a moment he looked like he was about to say something, but what he did instead surprised you. In a fluid and almost graceful movement, you watched as he pulled himself up and over the four foot stone fence. Your eyes widened in surprise as he landed with a soft thud on the pavement, but you didn’t have time to process what was going on because he was heading over towards you on the bench immediately after.

He sat down beside you slowly, as if he was uncertain that you’d let him. His eyes had never left your face the entire time, and the intensity you found in them had you almost holding your breath. Shifting on the bench, you turned towards him nervously.

“There is nothin’ between Amanda and I,” he told you firmly. “There was in the past, yes, but I told ya before that it was a mistake havin’ an affair with my brother’s wife. And I meant it. I can’t speak for her, but I can tell ya now, I don’t want Amanda. I want you . I want to see what it is that keeps pullin’ me to ya.”

“But what she said–”

“I fucked up,” Michael admitted ardently. “I fucked up and I didn’t say anythin’ that mornin’ because I knew Amanda has had a difficult time grievin’ the loss of Jaime. She’s been strugglin’ with the aftermath of what she–she asked me to do, too. She’s been havin’ a hard time and I didn’t want to start somethin’. Didn't want to make things worse. And I figured ya knew better than to listen to the shit she was spewin’ because I’d thought I’d made it clear ya weren’t a quick fuck.” He sent you a sad smile. “Ya saw how upset I got with Birdy, and she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a mum, Grace. But she threatened ya, and it wasn’t right, so I told her off. Ya have to believe me that it wasn’t intentional when I hurt ya yesterday. I realize now that I fucked up.”

“You did,” you whispered. “That hurt to just stand there and hear your… ex talk about me like that while you just let it happen.”

Michael’s palm landed on your knee over the blanket, his hand firmly grasping it. “I swear to ya, she’ll never speak like that ‘bout ya or to ya again, Grace. I won’t let it happen,” he said with a firm shake of his head. "Ya have my word. Because ya aren't some distraction or a quick fuck. Ya mean more than that to me."

Biting your lip, you held his gaze. Your hands were holding tight to the soft blanket, resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss him after that long-winded an impassioned apology he'd given you. You'd never had a man before take responsibility for their actions and apologize like that. He was right though, he had done all of those things for you and more. Like shielding you from possible gunfire the other day. And he seemed pretty adamant about not having feelings for Amanda.

"Can ya forgive me?" he whispered, his hand timidly leaving your knee and gingerly cupping your cheek. "Let me prove to ya I mean what I say?"

You nodded slowly in response. "Just please don't toy with me, Michael," you murmured.

He shook his head, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "I would never," he promised. "I feel like shite for unintentionally hurting ya, pet. I never meant to, I swear."

Sending him a small, nervous smile, you opened your arms and in turn partially unwrapped yourself from the blanket. "Are you cold?" you asked.

A little grin slipped onto his lips as he nodded, his hand returning to his side. "Freezin' my arse off, actually," he answered.

You laughed lightly, scooting closer to him on the bench. "Here," you said, offering him some of the blanket.

For a moment the two of you sat flush beside each other, trying to figure out how to wrap the blanket around both you and Michael, but he was vastly broader than Megan. The blanket wasn't quite big enough to wrap around the pair of you.

"I'll be fine without it, Grace," Michael finally said in defeat, beginning to unwrap the blanket from around himself. "Just use it yourself, pet. I don't want ya to get cold."

An idea struck you and your hand flew out to stop him. "Wait," you said.

Michael paused, shooting you a curious look. Ignoring the fluttering of nerves in your stomach at the way he was eyeing you and at what you were about to do, you wrapped your arms around Michael’s neck and pulled yourself up and into his lap. Micheal’s eyes grew wide in shock, his brows shooting up. You bit back a smile at the surprised look on his face, an amused huff of laughter slipping out of you. Michael’s hands instinctively flew around your waist and back, steadying you along his lap as you adjusted yourself.

"Now it'll wrap around both of us," you said.

Taking the blanket from its place behind Michael, you shifted and began wrapping it around both of you. He momentarily released his hold on you to help, pulling the blanket higher up around your shoulders as he did. You grabbed the ends of it to hold it closed before leaning back into Michael’s chest when his arms encircled you again. Your head came to rest against his shoulder and you quickly felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’d say this is much better,” you said.

“Mhmm,” Michael hummed out in approval, turning his head so he could look at you. “Y’know for bein’ so timid sometimes, you’re quite bold, Grace.”

“Well,” you began, a smile tugging at your lips as you shifted your head along his shoulder, looking back up at him, “I’m usually bold. I blame you for making me nervous sometimes.”

“Ya make me nervous, too,” Michael admitted softly. “Was terrified of talkin’ to ya after what happened yesterday. Afraid I’d completely fucked everythin’ up. Afraid I’d…lost ya already.”

Adjusting your hold on the blanket, maneuvering both ends to your right hand, you slipped your left hand up his neck to gently cradle the side of his face. Silently you held his eyes for a moment, your fingers lightly running along his beard as you stroked his cheek.

“You didn’t lose me, Michael,” you whispered. “I’m still here.”

A broad smile gradually spread across his mouth as he gazed down at you, the warmth of it finally eliminating the sadness that seemed to have been lingering on his face and in his eyes since he’d stepped out of his house this evening. You couldn’t resist the smile that spread on your own face at the sight of it. Michael was a handsome man, there was no doubt about it, but when he smiled like that it left you speechless.

“How ‘bout I cook ya dinner sometime soon?” he asked. “We can figure out a time later this week and I can make things up to ya over some food.”

Your brows rose onto your forehead. “You cook?” you asked.

He chuckled lightly, his smile turning a little sheepish. “A bit, yeah. A few things Birdy taught me, at least. Though I’ll admit, it’s been a bit since I’ve done much cookin’. But if you’re up for it, I’d like to.”

A warm sensation stirred in your chest as you continued to gaze up at him. No one had cooked for you before, especially not Victor. This was new.

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

“Can I consider it our second date?” he murmured, lowering his forehead to yours.

Leaning upwards just a hair, you brushed your lips against his. You felt his mouth immediately respond to the light touch, his lips placing a soft kiss to yours.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Michael’s lips curled into a smile against your own for a moment, and you felt yourself melting into him and his warmth from your place along his lap. You felt safe wrapped in his embrace, his arms firmly holding you to him. With the hand still resting on his cheek, you drew him that last bit of the way towards you, your mouth gently connecting to his in another kiss. Micheal eagerly responded, his arms somehow managing to squeeze you a bit tighter to his solid chest.

This kiss wasn’t like the ones the two of you had shared yesterday morning though. It wasn’t desperate and hungry, but rather unhurried and relaxed. Both of your mouths connecting over and over as if neither of you were in a rush, just taking your time enjoying the moment. It wasn’t long before you forgot all about the chill of the evening, your arms both snaking around Michael’s neck as you further pressed yourself to him, reveling in the taste of him on your tongue as the blanket gradually fell from the pair of you.

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella #kin (amc)#kin fanfiction

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platonic-activity · 2 months

Text

Ignis Fatuus (Chapter 2)

Ignis Fatuus (Foolish Flame)

Rating: PG, NC-17 in some chapters

Catagory: Novel, X-Files Fanfic, Diverging universe

Spoilers: Up to Amor Fati

Chapter 2

Mulder was itchy.

His bandage probably needed to be changed. He couldn’t scratch it and the one person he needed to come over and look at it was in Chicago looking at old evidence. She was supposed to be back by now. She had expected to only be gone for two days, three max. The world moves on and Mulder sits on his couch anxious at being cooped up. He itched to shoot some hoops, go grab something to eat that wasn’t frozen dinners or toast. He was itchy to see her again. She had wrapped up yesterday morning. Was there a storm in the Midwest or something? He bounced his leg with impatience.

He is relieved about one thing. He can no longer hear the thoughts of his neighbors. Initially, they had been so loud, both completely consumed with concerns that the other didn’t love them anymore and neither believing it should be their responsibility to make a loving gesture, terrified that it wouldn’t be reciprocated. It was enough to make him want to sob. He had taken to sleeping on his couch again to be further away from the wall he shared with them.

Idly he mused that listening to them for two weeks taught him more than any psych class he took at Oxford. Being sick at home was enough without the mental anguish of complete strangers.

His ability was leaving him.

The steady decline had begun the moment he woke up in the hospital with Scully sitting next to him. Her intense concern was so overpowering and all-consuming that he was barely able to accurately asses how he felt. He hit the morphine button to escape it drifting quickly into oblivion with his soft hand clasped in his. By the time he was home a few days later, he could only sense people nearby and the strength at which he could read her emotions had dimmed. He could at least tease them apart from his own.

He was relieved. Really, he was. It was an impossible way to live. Though he would hold the few memories of Scully’s mind in his heart for the rest of his life. The moment she finally believed him he could read her mind. The immediate shocking fear coursed through her. The painful vulnerability. He hadn’t even tried to get her to stay or to reassure her. He wanted her to get to safety as much as she did.

He wasn’t surprised when she called him later that night asking if he could read her mind over the phone.

“You can’t check my bandage over the phone, Scully.” He had teased. She was quiet.

“Can you control it?” She whispered

What are you afraid that I will find out, Scully?

“Only a little bit. I wish I could. If I am actively thinking about something then everything else fades away but if my mind wanders even a little bit then it is there and I can’t really prepare for it or anticipate it.”

Silence

“You believe me.” it wasn’t a question. He knew. He would love to hear her admit it, though.

“Well, I certainly didn’t say out loud that I was hungry and that I wanted Fretelli’s pasta.” She chuffed. “And I have a sneaking feeling that if I had been facing you, you wouldn’t have responded. You didn’t want me to know, did you?”

“For one, you always want pasta so it’s not that much of a reach,” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I did want you to know, to believe me. What I didn’t want was to intrude upon your privacy.” He sighs. “You know, contrary to popular belief I don’t go around profiling the people in my life.”

They had spent the next hour talking about his poor selfish tortured neighbors. It was safe territory.

The next week became a routine for them. Scully would stop by and actively think a conversation at him. He suspects it was her way of controlling the thoughts he could read. Then she would leave quickly, only staying to accomplish what could not be done over the phone. 45 minutes later she would call. It worked… only a little. She doesn’t need to know that.

She would check his pulse, take his blood pressure, inspect his bandage… check that he was taking the correct medications. He had always thought that his pulse was difficult to find because she often started over again. He now knows that she loses track of what she is doing because of their close proximity. Fascinating. Apparently, the skin on the inside of his wrist is quite distracting. He wonders what else is distracting about him.

Her subconscious thoughts rise to the surface when she is counting or listening for the diastolic and systolic heartbeats. She wonders if he will ever get up the courage to kiss her. His eyes shot up at that looking at her perfectly pink plump lips. Does she know that she just thought that? He dragged his gaze up to her wide eyes.

That night she did not call. She definitely knows he heard it.

Itchy. Impatient. Mentally anguished. Haunted by the waves of powerful emotion he now knows exists inside of his stoic and collected partner at all times. Astounding. Perhaps more elusive than any criptid. The flashes of her eyes leading him like a Will-o’-the-wisp into certain ruin.

He considers his limited distractions, porn, a basketball game on TV, maybe a game of solitaire… when he finally hears shuffling at his door. He listens closely to hear a knock that never comes.

#xfiles #fanfic #the xfiles #mulder and scully #Ignis Fatuus #Foolish Flame #Samantha mulder #Samantha fic #scully #mulder

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cutelittleriot · 3 months

Text

Return to origin holiday special part 2 finale

It's been about 3 days since the holiday party and Barb had eaten the origin fruit and everything was going fine in Pop village.

Poppy was busy getting ready to help Bridget with her wedding and Branch was off helping King Gristle at the moment with preparations.

She was off to go get some recipes to use for the party when Debbie showed up and flew up to her holding a letter. "Oh it's already that time? Man it sure does pass quickly I swore it was like it was only yesterday" Poppy jokes as she pets Debbie's fur.

Debbie feeling tired from the flight rests beside Poppy for the moment and she happily beging to pet the little bat as she opens up the letter.

'Yo Poppy

It's Barb I decided I'm gonna write as the days progress so right now it's the day after I ate that glitter bomb of a fruit and right now I'm so ITCHY! WOW HOW DID YOU TWO DEAL WITH THAT?!

Also along with this stupid itchiness my back has been hurting nothing too bad but it's very annoying. Thanks to these 2 annoyances I can't even rock out properly. I decided I'm gonna use my rage room for now until this stupid phase ends.

Apparently next are the fangs I can't wait to get them! Well wish me luck tomorrow but for you it's the next part of this letter.'

Poppy raised a eyebrow in confusion,what did she mean her back was hurting? That never happened to her or Branch. It might be a rock troll thing hopefully,she just hopes Barb is alright.

Day 2

Yo so uhm I got my fangs they are cool and all but why did some of my other teeth also get sharp? Like all of my front teeth are now sharp,they aren't as long as my fangs but still.

I don't hate them though far from it I love them to death they make me look so cool! Bet it's a rock troll thing but I'm doing what your little loverboy said and I'm writing this down even if I hate doing this ugh

But yeah I bit into some meat and there were my old teeth I'm so keeping them btw after that my other teeth were hurting for the entire day that wasn't fun but still

Oh also back is still hurting btw I checked it out I have these 2 bumps on them I should probably be concerned but I really don't care it's not like they have prevented me from doing anything so I don't care

Anyways time to Wait for tomorrow ugh I really don't want those pads they make me look so....cutesy ugh'

Poppy is now beginning to get worried for her friend. There's bumps on her back now?! And her other teeth are sharpened?! She quickly tries to calm herself down again it is probably just a rock troll thing.

Day 3

Alright so I'm getting pawpads but the weird thing is I'm only getting them on the palm of my hands for some reason?

Well I'm not complaining that's for sure they are tolerable that's all I'm saying for now

Well that's all that's going on for now but before I go I noticed my pupils are becoming more slitted that's cool and those bumps on ky back are bigger now and for some reason i can sort of move them? Anyways later Poppy gonna go rock out for a while

Poppy reread that part again,pupils become slitted?! And what does she mean she can move those bumps now?!

She definately needs to tell Branch about this later. Debbie who is now better after resting for a bit gets up and nuzzles her before flying off and Poppy waves off the little bat.

She really hopes Barb is doing alright though.

It's been 4 days since the last letter arrived and Poppy has been anxious she knows how it went for her and Branch she could only imagine what pain Barb went through.

Her tail twitching in anxiousness she waits for the sound of Debbie's wings flapping or even her scent to ease her worries. She has been getting used to her heightened senses it has taken some getting used to though,but now she can mostly handle it.

Soon enough her ears twitch and she can hear the familiar sound and she smiles in anticipation but also in worry.

She quickly takes the letter from the bat who decides to lay in her hair to rest. She uses her claws to tear open the letter and begins to read it.

Day 4

'Alright so I know somethings up cause from that encyclopedia your boyfriend gave me I think somethings different is happening to me right now.

Cause my fingertips are bright red and they feel weird, they don't really hurt they actually feel more numb than anything and they feel more.....hard than anything else. They look like claws they are pointed but unlike yours they sure don't retract or anything like that.

I dig em tho they look cool and I bet I could perform some even more sick rifts with these things!

Well that's all oh and I checked the mirror and yeah my pupils are definately slits now and those bumps are continuing to grow ugh its starting to become hard to wear shirts anymore

Anyways that's all later

Poppy tilts her head "Hmmm?" So looks like rock troll claws are different compared to pop troll claws very good information to know. She begins to read day 5's entry

Day 5

So I now have full on claws on my hands so that's cool. Oh also it seems I don't really have paws compared to you two they are more hand like than paw like.

Anywho got those pads growing on my feet now again I don't have any on my toes just the bottom of my feet feels weird ngl

But that's all for now I have to cut holes in my shirts for those bumps tho my dad knows what they are but he won't tell me he just says I will like how they will turn out whatever that means

Laterz

Poppy is now more curious as to what Barb will look like but now she is dreading the next days entry that's when it's at its worst. Bracing herself she continues on.

Day 6

That's it

She blinks once twice and rereads it. "Ow? Just ow?" She asks outloud. THAT DOESNT GIBE ANY CONTEXT AS TO WHAT HAPPENED WHAT DOES SHE MEAN OW?!

Her ears lower as she tries to figure out just what Barb meant by 'ow'. That one word alone could mean so many things. Did she get didigrade legs like her and Branch? Did something else happen?

She is left with those thoughts as Debbie flies off back home. She takes the letter and heads back to her pod. She just hopes Barb is alright, she knew what she was signing up for when she ate that fruit but still. She goes to sleep hoping everything will be alright.

It's the next day and Poppy was still busy preparing stuff for Bridget's wedding when her ears perk up and she hears the sound of a angler bus approaching. Looking up she sees it descend and it opens up revealing....Barb and her new self and wow she looks so cool.

Branch who heard the angler bus too heads over to where Poppy is and gapes at Barb. She grins showing off her sharp teeth and jumps down from the angler bus.

"Whats up guys ya like my new look?" She grins as the two take in her appearance. Her fur wasn't as long as theirs for sure but still there. The ends of her fingers have turned into bright red claws and a dark red pawpad was on the palm of her hand.

The same thing goes for her toes as they too have been turned into claws along with her new digigrade legs. Her tail sways behind her,it was the same color as her fur with a bright red line of fur going from the base to near the end of the tip of her tail which is now shaped like a arrow. Her slit pupils look over the two as she gazes their reactions.

"Oh my gosh Barb you look so cool!"Poppy gushes as she looks her over. "If you think this is cool check these out!" She says and turns around showing off "Are those wings?!" Branch exclaims as he looks at the two wings that were folded against Barbs back. They were the same color as her fur with the inside being a bright red.

"Yep our ancestors had wings and such,don't know why we don't know cause these are so cool!" She tells them as her tail wags and the wings give a little flap.

"I honestly can't imagine having wings having a tail is weird enough but even more limbs and appendages? Yeah no" Branch says shuddering at the thought of having wings.

"Can you fly with them?" Poppy asks curiously. "Yep sure can but only for a very short time before I'm exhausted,trust me it's not as easy as you think it took me hours to try and just get off the ground" Barb complains.

"But yeah I'm liking the new look don't regret eating that thing. So you guys want to go hang and do some crazy stuff?" Barb asks with a feral grin. "Uh yeah!" Poppy agree with her tail wagging in excitement. "Uh Poppy maybe we shouldnt?" Branch says a bit apprehensive. "Alright then chicken we will leave you out of this" Barb says intentionally annoying Branch who grumbles before joining the two as they go out and have some fun in their new bodies and to help Barb get used to her new self.

For rock trolls it goes

Stage 1 fur

Stage 2 fangs and teeth

Stage 3 pawpads

Stage 4 claws

Stage 5 pawpads on feet

Stage 6 toes turn into claws and legs become digigrade

Stage 7 tail grows

And throughout this entire process wings are slowly growing out of the trolls back they allow the troll to fly but only for very short periods and then the troll will have to rest for a bit

Here she is (I tried guys I really did)

#trolls #trolls 2 #trolls 3 #branch #poppy #broppy #return to origin #barb #queen barb

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justimajin · 4 months

Text

Drabble #2

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Words: 1.1k (welp)

↠ Warnings: so much more fluff

↳ This drabble takes place after the Epilogue and Drabble #1 of The Profit & Love Statement

The big day is here.

You knew it had been approaching, having marked the date on your calendar with giant circles and stars. You had put in a request for a day off soon after immediately finding out and removed any errands you had planned on doing.

Because today was not only a big day, it was a very special one as well.

“I can’t believe Yuna’s graduating already.” You let out a wistful sigh. It had just been yesterday when she had entered high school, but four years had passed by with a breeze.

Not only was Yuna older now, she was an adult and you were tremendously proud.

“Time flies, doesn’t it?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth lifts, a nostalgic look in his eyes. He very well knew what you were experiencing, being a spectator to his own children getting older.

“It sure does.” Both of you turn at the sound of Hoseok’s voice, who strides closer to you.

He deeply exhales, blinking as if time escaped him. “They just grow up so fast….”

Yoongi frowns, “Hoseok, you’re not that old.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself!”

“Sure, you weren’t.” Yoongi smiles as you chuckle, to which Hoseok just sighs.

He turns to you, “Should we head into the hall?”

You nod, heading in together.

The three of you get seated as the ceremony begins. It starts off with Yuna’s high school introducing themselves and thanking everyone for coming, before the grandiose music plays and you eagerly watch, pulling out your phone in anticipation as names filter through.

You’re amused to see Yoongi and Hoseok pull out their own phones, attempting to capture the moment to the best of their ability.

However, the seat that sits right next to you stays empty.

You gaze at it wearily, something that Yoongi picks up on.

“Where’s that husband of yours?” He whispers, and you grimace.

“Still stuck at work.” You mention, tightening your grip on your phone. “He’s supposed to be presenting a new project as the CEO, but he told me he would sneak out as soon as he could.”

Jin had been texting you constantly since you had arrived, lighting up your phone with frequent updates about his delay and reassuring you that he would be there. But as time spun away, you were getting more and more anxious.

“Don’t dwell on it too much.” Yoongi says, “He’ll be here soon.”

“I hope so.”

He leans closer to you, “If anything, we all know just how good he is at sneaking away.”

A smile rises to your lips and Yoongi grins.

The names continue and you keep watching, eyes flickering over the many graduated students that walk along.

Your phone vibrates.

You immediately glance down, surprise etching onto your features.

[Jin] 12:40pm: Namjoon will cover for me, don’t worry

– 1 new message

[Jin] 1:04pm: The handsome husband has arrived

Snapping your head up, you instantly turn around, attempting to look beyond all the heads currently focused towards the front. It takes you a couple of seconds, but then you notice a man attempting to shuffle his way through and a giant smile breaks out onto your features.

You wave your hand and Jin notices right away, filtering himself through before walking closer to his seat.

He instantly wraps his arms around you, “You made it!”

“Didn’t I say I would?” He remarks, looking at you playfully.

“You did.” You confirm, but then your attention is drawn to his black suit and the bouquet he holds in his hand.

“Not too bad.” You beam, and he winks at you.

“I try sometimes, you know?” A chuckle escapes you, and he reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

A pink rose emerges out and your eyes widen as he hands it to you.

You hold it tenderly, “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you.” He softly says.

Yoongi awkwardly coughs, glancing in your direction.

“I don’t understand how you’ve been married for a year and you’re still like this.”

Hoseok quirks up a brow, “Hyung, didn’t you just tell me the other day how much you love it when Hana smiles?”

“That’s different.” Yoongi frowns, “We’ve been married for years.”

“Sure, it is.” Hoseok smiles knowingly, and you grin when he makes eye contact with you.

“It’s okay, Yoongi,” Jin looks over, sending him a flying kiss, “I love you too.”

Hoseok attempts to stifle his laugh as Yoongi recoils. You lean against Jin, giggles leaving you as he continues to look at Yoongi with serious fondness.

However, that’s when the names draw closer to one that you’ve been anticipating, and you hurriedly scramble to lift your phone.

Yuna’s name is called, and your eyes practically shine at the sight of your sister walking down in a graduation gown.

She has an enormous and infectious grin to her lips as she eagerly takes her certificate. Stopping for a moment, she glances out into the audience, her eyes flickering around carefully until they land on the sight of you.

Jin is loudly cheering. Hoseok is shouting at the top of his lungs. Yoongi has a huge gummy smile. And you are proud beyond belief.

Your eyes make contact and Yuna breaks out into a huge smile that you reciprocate.

“She walked down so confidently! I’m so proud of her!” Hoseok exclaims, exiting out of the venue.

“Can’t believe she’s a graduate now.” Yoongi remarks.

“Me neither.” Jin adds in, but he falters for a moment.

Turning around, he notices you’re not beside him, rather trailing far behind.

“Y/N?”

You look up, startled to find Jin in front of you. Clearing your throat quickly, you sniffle and his eyes widen.

“I’m just really happy for her.” You bring up, “And kind of wish our parents were here to see how far she’s progressed.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you as you attempt to swipe away the tears. Jin takes a tissue out of his pocket, handing it to you to which you gratefully accept.

You gaze at him and he smiles reassuringly.

“You guys okay?” You hear Hoseok shout, much to your surprise. However, Jin swings his arms around you, shouting back.

“We’re fine, Y/N just missed me a lot!”

“Jin!” You hiss.

He childishly snickers, “Sorry.”

You playfully shake your head, and he tugs you along.

“Come on, let’s go find Yuna and then meet up with others at my restaurant.”

You nod, holding onto his hand tightly.

Request by:

@jovialtragedyheart

A/N: Hello! I hope you are doing good as well ^.^ For this one, I decided to choose Yuna's graduation! I thought it would give a nice glimpse into the future and feel like an update on everyone ☺️ I hope you don't mind that I focused on a few characters only, I wanted to give Y/N and Jin a moment too 🤭 Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you like it <3

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lostinlewis · 1 year

Text

Into The Night...

Rating: Soft

Words: 2594

“Stay.”

It had been two days, or rather nights, since you heard the word mumbled by the man who you now lay on the sofa with, your legs sprawled across his, his hands resting on the outside of your clothed thigh. A position you had both been in for most of the day now, a step up from a similar position in his bed for most of the day yesterday.

You had been torn when you heard it, such an insignificant word should never cause as much torment as it had in your head, but all the variables behind it fed it its power. You had spent the night at Lewis’ London home before, that was nothing new, what was new was the request for you to stay for the whole weekend, as was the fact that on Sunday night there was no word of you leaving; this was new.

The final episode of the latest season of Stranger Things was in full swing on the screen in front of where you both lazed. It was only yesterday that you had started it, but both of you were engrossed from the start, you knew then that you would be there until you were done.

As your fingers played loosely with the faux locs that sat messily on his head, your mind couldn’t help but wonder towards the anxious thoughts that rose to the forefront more and more, the nearer it got to finishing the series and ultimately, until home time.

‘Will he ask me to leave once it’s finished? He’s polite, so will he pretend he has to be up early, hoping I take the hint?’

It was nearing 2am now, the thought of having to catch the night tube back home, the famous walk of shame, even if that shame was now two days old, made you feel even worse about the inevitability of what was to come.

You missed the part on screen that startled Lewis, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. As he pulled you in even closer to him, feigning the attempt at comforting you, you felt so warm at the thought of being his comfort after a fright, even for the moment.

Lewis’ lips trailed across the bare skin of your neck as the episode drew to a close, both of you would have failed a test on what happened, neither one of you could hold your attention on one thing for so long; except each other, that was.

“You smell so good.”

Lewis mumbled against your skin as he kissed it lazily, your head rolled back into his to not stop him, but make him understand just how good he made you feel.

“I smell like you, Lewis.”

You teased his arrogance but it was true, you did. Everything on you was his, from the tracksuit he had given you to wear as you didn’t have any spare clothes with you, not anticipating your impromptu sleepover, to the deodorant you wore, everything was his.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

Your stomach dropped as he tapped at your leg, yet in contradiction, he kept kissing your neck as if that one action didn’t have you pinned to the spot, paralysed under his touch.

“I have no clothes, I can’t go out.”

“Looks like you’re wearing clothes to me…unfortunately.”

Lewis brushed his lips against yours as he teased you, even for him, this was the politest way to ever let a person down gently but you let yourself be sucked in by it, it was impossible not to be.

“You look cute in my clothes, besides it’s 2am, no one will be around to see you anyway.”

The cool air of the late spring night hit you as you walked out of his front door. It had clearly just been raining, judging by the puddles you could hardly avoid on his street.

You had barely made it out of his gate when he reached for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours, he held you tight as you walked a path lit only by the faint haze of the sparse streetlights.

“This is my favourite time to go for a walk. I love London at the best of times, but you really get to enjoy its beauty when no one else is around to ruin it.”

It was true, there was something so very special about the way walking down the street in one of the busiest cities in the world felt, when it was empty of people and cars. It felt like anything was possible, like you two were the only two in the world, and if you ignored the lights that shined in every other house window, you could have been.

“Where are we going?”

“No where, we’re just walking…stop overthinking it.”

You thought his words an odd response to such a simple question, you wondered then if he could read your mind, if the comment was more to do with the thoughts that had plagued you since morning now. You had outstayed your welcome, you just needed him to let you down gently.

“You see this place?”

Lewis pulled you closer to him as he stood outside the darkened windows of a restaurant, one that had closed hours ago but somehow the aroma of the food it served still lingered in the air outside.

“Makes the best tacos in London…we should go sometime.”

“Aren’t you-“

“You can get Vegan tacos too, babe.”

Lewis shook his head in a teasing manner as he kissed the top of your head, a signal that it was time to move on to the next sight, your walk fast becoming a tour of some of Lewis’ favourite haunts and you could think of nothing more you would rather be doing.

“This way, I know a shortcut.”

“I thought there wasn’t a plan for this walk, Lewis?”

Your voice rose to more of a shriek as you had to follow him in a jump over a puddle more akin to a pond, before he led you down a dark alleyway, not a streetlight in sight.

“There wasn’t, but now I know exactly where I want to go. Don’t be scared, I've got you.”

Lewis shot you a smirk back as if he wasn’t the one literally jumping out of his, and subsequently your, seat a little while ago because of a show that kids can watch.

“I’m not scared.”

That was the truth, you weren't, not of the dark alleyway anyway, more of the man who held your hand from his place just ahead of you, or what it would feel like when you inevitably lost him.

The alleyway felt like it led on forever, it allowed you enough time at least, for your mind to wonder to thoughts of Lewis having led you down there to do something you both really should not be doing in public, and then catch them again before you got a little too carried away and initiated it yourself.

“Here we are…”

Lewis narrated the big reveal, the scene that made your eyes squint as you tried to adjust from complete darkness to sudden light once more, as if he had created it himself. Pulling on the grip he had on your hand to lead you out into the open, and right beside him, ever so gently.

“Oh wow, it’s so pretty.”

You marvelled as you took in all around you. He had taken you to the river, but to a part of it you had never seen before, a part you imagined most people hadn’t. There was one singular streetlight standing beside a solo table and two chairs, a canopy decorated in tiny lights hung above it, the perfect place to sit and look out into the calm waters of the River Thames.

“It’s so roma…cosy here.”

You refused to allow yourself to finish that word, but it didn’t matter, Lewis had heard it; you could tell by the way he caught your eye before you quickly looked away, but also by the way in which he reached for your hand across the table, tickling his fingers in between yours again, like they were made to fit there just perfectly.

“You’re right, it is romantic. I knew you would like it.”

“Come here often then?”

“A lot.”

You couldn’t help but look up at him, you forgot just how casual your relationship was supposed to be, you forgot to hide your jealousy and instead you let it fall all over your face in the form of a frown.

“I run through here almost every day…alone. When you said you were able to come over Friday night, I knew I had to take you here.”

You were so very aware of the circle Lewis was drawing on your hand with his thumb, any contact with him was electrifying, but this contact was one you felt most.

“But it’s Sunday…well, Monday morning now. How come we didn’t go on Friday? I could have met you here, you only had to ask.”

It sounded as if you were looking for a way for him to get out of you having overstayed your welcome all weekend, you were giving him an excuse that he hadn’t even asked for, taking the blame for an action that wasn’t entirely your fault.

“I wanted to walk with you here, I wanted you to see the streets I run down every day. And besides, there was no rush, you have been with me all weekend after all.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

As if physically wanting to break away from the uncomfortable conversation, dreading where it was heading, you stood up from the table and walked a few steps to rest against the barrier that separated you from the river.

You were alone for all of twenty seconds before you were startled by the silent but sudden feel of Lewis so very close behind you. His hands brushed your neck clear of any obstructions, allowing his lips to meet almost the same spot as they had done earlier, his hands finding their way down your arms to rest on top of yours.

“You know I wanted you to be here with me, right?”

“You did…”

You felt his giggle, hot and breathy, against your neck as he took in your shocked response.

“Babe, I asked you to stay…”

“Yes, but that was one night Lewis, I have been at yours for nearly three now.”

“Have I asked you to leave?”

Lewis turned your whole body around with ease as he let the question marinate, he wanted to see you when you responded; he needed to.

“No, but-”

“Why does there have to be a but? I didn’t ask you to leave you yesterday, I haven’t asked you to leave tonight, and I won’t be asking you to leave tomorrow either. I haven’t asked you to leave because I don’t want you to. Ever.”

Every word could be mistaken for politeness, you could convince yourself that he was just being nice, every word apart from the last one. You felt it when he said it, he meant it.

“Lewis, I don’t understand…”

“Honestly, neither do I. This was only supposed to be a casual fling, but the more I saw you, the more I had you around me…well, the harder it got to not have you around, I guess.”

“So…you just want me around? Like a roommate?”

Lewis couldn’t help but chuckle at your naivety once more, shaking his head he pecked you on the very tip of your nose before he pulled you in as close as he could towards him.

“I want you around, I want you as a roommate, but what I am trying to ask you is if you would be okay with being a little more than that?”

“A little more…like a girlfriend?”

If you were not mistaken, as you said the word ‘girlfriend’ you could see the nerves in his eyes, the only time you had ever seen him nervous before, and yet you found it most adorable.

“Exactly like a girlfriend…if you want to be, of course?”

You let him stew in his nerves for a moment, it was quite nice to, for once, not be the one riddled with anxiety. The longer you left it, the more puppy-like his eyes became, so much so you almost completely forgot to answer him as you fawned over the most adorable man you had ever seen before you.

“I’ll be your girlfriend, of course I’ll be your girlfriend silly.”

Like two teenagers in love, Lewis scooped you up and sat you on the barrier, just so he could kiss you for what felt like an eternity. You only really fell apart from each other's lips when the light droplets of rain turned into the kind you could no longer ignore, the heavier they got.

“Let’s get you home.”

Lewis lifted you back down to your feet and together, hand in hand, you walked through the same streets you had a while before, but this time you walked with your boyfriend, and he with his girlfriend. You found it rather ironic that you had arrived there wondering when he would tell you to go home, but left there with him having offered you a new place to call home.

“Wait here.”

Lewis let go of your hand and jogged across the road, towards a group of tourists, leaving you confused and completely baffled as he jogged back over to you, with them in tow.

“What’s going on?”

“They are going to take our picture, follow me.”

He led you along to where a streetlight stood on the edge of the road, with one leg propped up against it, he pulled you in close to him so you were both engulfed in its light. First he kissed you on the forehead, next he turned towards where he was being photographed with a smile, you followed his lead too.

As you stood to the side, watching Lewis oblige the tourists with pictures with him as well, you felt a little warmth within you, knowing that moments like this were moments you had to get used to.

“And you too?”

One of the tourists beckoned towards you with their phone, asking to take a picture with you, despite the fact you were nobody to them, suddenly because of your company you were in.

Attention of any kind was always something you actively avoided, it made you feel vulnerable, insecure, just about every kind of negative emotion you could imagine but it wasn’t lost on you that having Lewis there now made it all the more bearable. You politely declined, and thankfully they were very gracious with it, but you knew then that you had better get used to the attention, just because of the relationship you were in.

“So what series are we going to start next?”

Lewis asked as he helped you out of the now very damp clothes you were standing in, in the hallway. It was then that you felt it first, it was hidden amongst one of the most average of questions that you had ever been asked, the feeling of normality with Lewis, the feeling of belonging with him; it was then that you felt like his girlfriend for the very first time, and despite what you may pick to watch, it would be this moment that would linger the longest.

“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, we better pick something that doesn’t make you jump…again.”

#Lewis #soft #Into The Night

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pandoa · 2 years

Note

I went through your blog and fell in love with your writing hsdyus52cjfh9#$&^$ LIKE I LOVE IT

Also congrats on the 100 followers you deserve it!!

For the event could I request Idia with yellow pansies? and the theme is Idia out in a grassy flowery field at NRC plucking the petals on the yellow pansies or a daisies? (the only time he is ever outside lol)

Thank you <3

Yellow pansies ~ “they love me, they love me not. they love me, they love me n—” “what are you doing?” “GAH!”

~idia shroud x gender neutral reader~

AAAHHH ANONIE YOU'RE TOO SWEET <3 tysm for requesting im gonna cry. hoping you like it!!!

♡gacha heart♡

Anxious. That is what Idia had been. Anxious, jittery, maybe even a little sweaty, and a tad shaken, quite frankly. This feeling he had in his chest whenever Ortho had simply brought up your name mid-conversation was… odd. It made him jump up in nervosity. Uneasiness. But not without leaving him a sense of excitement and longing, however, and he was unsure why. Did he perhaps fear you? Was he scared? The young man lifted his head up to the sky, confused, and appeared as if he were searching for the world’s most untold secret in the midnight glow of the moon. Was he really that scared of you that his heart palpitated miles and miles each day he saw you through his tablet’s camera lense?

…

Oh, who was he kidding— Of course he was aware of the feelings he harbored for you, the Ramshackle prefect! You think he wouldn’t notice after all of the dating simulations and romance anime he’s watched? The young man was practically an expert when it came to the matters of the heart!

Well, an inexperienced expert to be specific. But why focus on the unimportant details, hm? Idia knew what an “ushy gushy” little crush was. That queasy feeling in your belly that twists and turns and churns the leftover pizza from yesterday’s all-nighter, the icky and sticky sweat that clings onto your skin the moment their eyes meet yours, and—the most terrible of them all—the longing feeling of actually wanting to talk to that special person every single day of the year, twenty-four-seven. An introvert was never made for such a relationship, and Idia himself knew it.

“They love me, they love me not.” Though, a little hope wouldn’t hurt a guy, right?

There, the Ignihyde housewarden stood, picking at the petals of numerous yellow pansies in Night Raven College’s grass-filled field. It was well past midnight, so Idia had deemed it safe enough to emerge from his lair known as his “dorm room” to sneak out into the open and determine the fate of his hopeless heart. No one had been there at that hour; it was the perfect opportunity.

“They love me, they love me not,” the third year’s uncharacteristically clear voice continued to ring throughout the empty field as he plucked a petal off of each flower, baring the plant of its beauty. Idia’s thoughts simultaneously raced and raced in his preoccupied mind, effectively distracting him from his surroundings. But it was completely safe there, though. Not a single soul was awake at the moment, so Idia should be fine, right?

The flame-haired third year continued mindlessly plucking off petals from the innocent flowers of NRC.

“My faith in these less than SSR emotions rests in you, poor flower. Am I the cool, quiet male lead? The charming but mysterious second lead? Or worse,” he paused for a moment, trying to gather his rushing thoughts, “am I just a lonely NPC who’s fallen in love with (Y/n), the dear protagonist!?” Idia strongly spoke as the yellow petals of the pansies gracefully landed on the dirt-filled ground.

The anxiety-ridden third year huffed in frustration. Okay, three more petals to go, Idia cheered in his mind. C’mon little flower~ Give ‘lil Gloomurai here the win he needs!

Pulling off yet again another petal, Idia spoke in anticipation evident in his tone. “They love me, they love me n—”

“What are you doing?”

“GAH!” Idia, springing up in surprise, threw the flower he had previously held in his sweaty palms into oblivion as he caught the sound of a sweet, sweet voice he knew all too well. “(Y-y/n)!” the young boy called out to your smug form, feeling more nervous than ever. “J-just curious, you know, but um, h-how l-long have you been there?”

You smirked at the embarrassed boy before you. “Long enough to hear you say that you like me~”

Idia’s shaking body froze into place as he processed what you had just admitted.

Wait… Did he confess that out loud?

“Oh, I see,” the blue-haired housewarden awkwardly muttered, a stupefied look still gracing his stiff face.

“...”

“Well!” a sudden smack of his hand against his own palm interrupted the dead silence between the two of you. You noticed Idia shifting his feet against the grassy garden, appearing as if he were about to bolt into the mystical darkness of the night, preparing himself. “It was n-nice seeing you, but I g-gotta go—“

“Huh—? Hey, wait, Idia! You can’t just say something like that and run away!” you hollered out to the Ignihyde housewarden, chasing the young man as you knew he couldn’t go far with his rather weak physique. “Come back here!”

“Never!” Idia yelled back. “Saying ‘that’ was nerve-racking enough!”

Ah, yes… it was safe to say that neither of you had any sleep that night, what with Idia running across NRC’s courtyard and you amusingly following after him. Your incessant bickering never ceased to quiet down throughout the neverending nightfall as the moon reflected on your fussing faces. Halls echoed and amplified your frustrated but giddy calls, footsteps clopped against the ground from Idia’s scurrying, and grouchy Night Raven students stirred in their sleep as the commotion in NRC's precious garden had reached their slumbering ears.

Perhaps one day you’ll finally get this limited-time SSR character to proudly—and properly—confess his feelings for you.

Perhaps.

a/n: still salty i don't have suitor suit idia smh. i need to heal

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twst idia #idia x you #idia twisted wonderland #idia twst #ignihyde #gender neutral reader #blossom grove prompt event

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filthforfriends · 1 year

Text

Chapter 11

Alpha!Damiano x Omega!Fem Reader

it's smutty enjoy!

First Day Back

9:01 AM Before you left him to finish the assessment, Damiano pushed his giant, black sweatshirt into your hands, insisting you take it.

“Please wear it,” was all you got via text until later in the evening.

Wear it until I pick you up in the morning like usual. Before and after you shower, especially if you do yoga before bed. Preferably with nothing under it.

Don’t worry about sweating when you sleep. I’ll like that.

So here you were, still horny from the night before, standing outside your house in anticipation. It was freezing, but still better than your dad’s potential reaction if Damiano came to the door. He was always on time. Just when you began to worry, you saw the headlights of his tan Chevy through the morning fog and practically ran into the street to meet him.

His leg bounces anxiously as you get in. The good morning kiss felt like nothing and he didn’t meet your eyes. Now you were both anxious.

“Hey, you.” When Dami turns you capture his face in both hands and press your foreheads together. He stares right back, eyes intense and present, and the tension leaves your body. He knows the chilling fear running through your head, and bumps noses affectionately to reassure you.

9:21 AM You’d been sitting in the school parking lot with bated breath for several minutes. Dami’s dread was so visceral that you were experiencing it too.

“If we go now you’ll be lost in the crowd. No one will notice you.” Damiano pulls at the hem of the black hoodie you wear. Confused, you shed your jacket so you can take it off. You’d assumed Dami wanted you to wear it out of territorialism. Instead he pulls off all his own layers, and is briefly shirtless before putting the sweatshirt on.

The glimpse of his skin makes you momentarily ravenous and it occurs to you that you can’t remember the last time you made out amid this dumpster fire of a situation. Maybe a little bit Sunday morning when you were both emotionally exhausted. Yesterday’s meeting had been brief and plagued by prying eyes at all times. So it would have to be Friday, when you’d made love for the first and only time.

Dami reaches into his backpack, pulling out a faded blue sweatshirt as a replacement for the black one.

“I’m fine, I won’t be cold.” Damiano rolls his eyes, leans over, opens your backpack, and stuffs it inside. When he sits up his scent gland nearly brushes your face.

“I need to ask you a question and just be completely honest,” you rush before you can lose your nerve. Dami’s curiosity is visibly piqued.

“Can we have sex? I mean, while you figure everything out or –” Dami taps the center console once, and very aggressively, while nodding in a way that's gonna give him whiplash. He feels around the seat frantically, like he’s trying to find his car keys. He locates them and is about to turn the ignition when you realize the communication error that's been made.

“Not right now, Dami!” He throws the keys on the floor and his hands in the air. Dami retrieves his phone and types in a frenzy.

HOW IS MY BRAIN SUPPOSED TO WORK WHEN YOU SAY THAT!?!?!!!

You can’t help but burst out laughing at the desperation in his expression. He was really ready to abandon all responsibilities at the drop of a hat. You try to ignore the siren’s song convincing you to say fuck it.

DO NOT EXPECT FRONTAL LOBE INVOLVEMENT FROM ME WHEN YOU BRING UP SEX

You could tease him for being a pervy teenage boy who just couldn’t get enough, but the reality was that the intimacy you shared was profound, fierce, and radically organic. He could see that awareness in your eyes. Every second you spent confined in his car the likelihood of making it to first block decreased.

“We need to go inside, love.” Damiano nods, this little distraction enough to make returning to school manageable. At least long enough to get through the door. You yank on all your layers and stumble out of the car. Dami puts his hood up. That, paired with dark jeans, black shoes, and an avoidance of eye contact reveals how much he doesn’t want to be perceived.

Being non-verbal as a young alpha or omega wasn’t really hot gossip. Most of us have regularly interacted with a child or adolescent who wasn’t speaking at some point. Star, Lars, and basically the entire team knew already. Those who don’t will at practice tomorrow. The communication barrier and ignorant beta staff members are more the concern. To your understanding, Damiano has gone to school while non-verbal for a day or two before. It’s the prospect of judgment over something he’s powerless to that keeps Dami’s eyes glued to the linoleum.

You take his hand in front of everyone. It's a reminder that you’re proud to be his omega and the opinions of others are irrelevant. Weaving through the crowds, you walk him to the border of the cafeteria. The common area turns into the alpha portion of the school. Even after bidding Damiano goodbye, you stand at the invisible line and watch until his black hood disappears into the throng.

Only then does it occur to you that he was wearing your smell as a coping mechanism. Damiano had nothing under the sweatshirt because he wanted fabric that had touched your bare skin against his, even if it was impractical. But it was more than that for him. Jay had asked Damiano to find things he associated with calm, so he could create tools instead of shutting the world out. The whole team spoke endlessly about building resilience instead of barriers. His therapist seemed to be the only one that accepted Dami just didn’t have inner peace to access right now.

So whenever the panic from a pointed, scandalized stare climbed up his throat, Dami could trick himself into thinking you were within reach. When socializing became so overwhelming he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, Dami escaped inside his own head. He thought of you quietly doing homework, sitting cross legged on the end of your bed and imagined that instead of watching from above, he was there too. Maybe doing his own homework, maybe laid back and admiring that you occasionally bite your lip in thought. After a few moments, the overwhelm would pass

1:04 PM You’d been pulled out of study hall by the head of the aerospace engineering competitive team, Mx. Varela. Apparently they needed a member in your year who was a strong mathematician.

“I’m not even on the math team and I don’t know anything about rockets.”

“You have an A in Physics and Advanced Algebra. Let your teammates worry about the rockets.”

“And a B in Engineering.” It was highly debatable that you were the most qualified availability in your grade.

“Advanced Engineering. How many other 10th years are in that class?”

“I don’t know, it was just on my schedule at the beginning of the year.” Truthfully, you had no desire to be one of the academic devotees that spent all of their free time on campus. Leaving school with Damiano was usually your favorite part of the day.

“What’s the real reason?” Mx. Varela stands with a hand on their hip.

“I just don’t like engineering that much,” you shrug. “And I already have a bunch of homework.”

“You’ll receive school credit for Aerospace 101. It’s three hours a week instead of five and you can do one of the weekly meetings during Wednesday’s study hall.”

“So I’d have to stay after school twice a week?” you complain.

“Two of the weekly meetings during study hall as long as you’re passing English. Final offer.” It was a good bargain. Homework was so mind-numbing that you could rarely focus for more than half of 5th block. Somehow, blaring music at home made everything except English go quickly.

“Maybe…”

“Good, you start now. Get your stuff.” Mx. Varela had chosen today because many of the school clubs were making posters for upcoming events during study hall. In the common area, brightly hued scrolls of paper covered several tables, around which a mix of students huddled. Only then did it occur to you that Romero’s Aerospace Engineering Team would be integrated.

When you approached the only barren table, everyone went around introducing themselves. You didn’t catch a single name, trying to read their pheromones. Two omegas that you recognized from your study hall stood on the fringes of the interaction. Mx. Varela thanked them for volunteering to help, even though they obviously just wanted to get out of class.

“First block ransacked the cafeteria supply closet, so we’ve been using the big one in the South Hall.” Teachers could try to rebrand with new names as much as they liked, but everyone knew that the South Hall was the border. It was, in fact, a supply room, outside of which mailmen stacked boxes of wholesale markers and pens. It was across from the first alpha class room, just slightly over the line. Situated there because both sides restock their supplies from its inventory.

It got you thinking, what was the chance that a protective alpha notices adventurous omegas using the supply room at the beginning of the last four classes? What was the chance that they figured out it was study hall? Damiano knew your schedule and you his.

“I’d be happy to go get supplies!” you chirp, raising a hand and bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Alright,” Mx. Varela agrees slowly, confused by your sudden enthusiasm. “Take Rosemary with you. She knows her way around.” A 12th year beta comes to your side with a forced smile. She doesn’t speak until you’re out of hearing range from the group.

“It's two betas and three alphas,” she blurts. “The team, you’re the only omega.”

“God damn it,” you groan.

“So, um, so you’re with that 11th year right? We have World History together.” Of course, she had a crush. “I wish I could pull girls like he used to. If you know any of his secrets I’d love to hear.”

“You know, that’s really not where I thought this conversation was going,” you admit. Rosemary looks mortified.

“Ew, god no!” she cringes. “Not ‘god no’ him personally, but just men in general. There’s this omega in my AP Bio class who’s just…” she audibly sighs. “She used to have a massive crush on Damiano and like, I get that he looks like a statue and all. Sorry, people say I’m off putting.”

“I think you’re fine.” She smiles again, and this time it's genuine. As soon as you turn the corner, you scan your surroundings.

“Dami,” you call. “Damia-nooo.” Rosemary turns to you like you’ve lost your mind. “He’s around here somewhere. He’s always watching.”

“What? Like a serial killer?” You splutter as Rosemary opens the door.

“Dami, you’re making me look crazy,” you say into thin air. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Yep, he’s close. The scent of his pheromones is so faint it's more like feeling his presence intuitively. You pout, wishing he’d come greet you.

“I can’t reach,” Rosemary grunts, from inside the supply room. Even without Dami, the trip is worth it. There’s something so interesting about seeing the inner-workings of an institution that feels omnipresent the way school does. You look around for something to stand on and get a wicked good idea.

Cupping your hands over her ear, you whisper, “gasp and then say my name like you’re worried.” She’s confused, but game. Dramatically, Rosemary inhales sharply and you rattle a box of scissors and drop a stapler on the floor.

“Oh my god, y/n!” Damiano rounds the door frame before you can blink. His hands are outstretched as if to catch you, so you throw yourself into his arms. Dami immediately wrenches you backward, eyes searching for an injury or symptom.

“I’m fine,” you beam, and he crushes you in a hug again. “Oof – air. Dami, air!”

“I really thought you were totally conceited, but you were right,” marvels Rosemary. Damiano finally takes notice of his surroundings and awkwardly waves in greeting. He subtly slides one hand under your sweater when he shifts his embrace from a hug into holding you from behind.

“So this is my stalker, Dami.” He pinches the soft flesh above your hip. “Ow, okay!” you jump. “This is my boyfriend, Dami.” Pinch. “This is my stalker-boyfriend?” you try, teasing him in retribution. He enjoys the way you jump and squeak in reaction a little too much. Damiano pinches you once more as revenge for the mini heart attack.

“Ouch! This is my alpha. Is that what you want me to say?” You bat his hand away, but instead he slides his warm palm over the sensitive skin of your stomach. As Rosemary turns to reach for the paper again, he even dips his pinky below the waistline of your jeans. You hold your breath, pussy throbbing at the proximity of his fingers. His long, capable fingers that easily massaged your scent glands and helped you finally release after getting so pent up.

“Okay. Damiano, can you grab this please?” Rosemary points to the roll of yellow paper above the cabinets. He lets go and tears off a long sheet.

“And the red paint?” She points at the corner cabinet while gathering a ruler, glitter, and other supplies. You’d just wanted Damiano to stop playing Mr. Cool, but Rosemary had the smarts to make use of him. After organizing everything to carry back, she looks two of you up and down with a smirk.

“Are we gonna walk back together or…?”

“Yeah, for sure,” you respond, fanning yourself. Just the proximity to Dami raised your body temperature. Rosemary exits first, so you have a couple seconds alone. Instead of being miffed over his teasing, you decide to return it.

“I have a secret to tell you.” Surprisingly, he leans down without question, leveling his ear with your mouth. Again, you cup your hands and whisper.

“After your texts last night, I fingered myself while wearing this sweatshirt. But I actually wanted to ball it up and ride it like that pillow.” You skip away before he can recover and catch you, but he still tries. Damiano’s hands fumble to grasp a wrist or elbow so he can haul you back inside the little room. However, you manage to slip away, carefree while Dami seems to be suffering from tachycardia. You check over your shoulder once more before rounding the corner. He’s slumped against the door, eyes wide in shock. You hold your hair up, as if you’re going to put it in a ponytail. Of course this isn’t the case, bruising considered. However, it gives Damiano a chance to see all his bite marks on your neck. It's a reminder: you belong to him and you know it.

3:14 PM “Well, you’re home a little early.” Isabella is waiting in the kitchen as soon as Dami opens the door. It should be 3:17, but he’d dragged you into the parking lot and driven much faster than usual after an hour and a half of desperate texts.

HOW

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GO BACK TO CLASS

Fucking hell I can’t stop thinking about how I got to teach you to do that.

Just jacked off in the school bathroom like a 12 year old because I needed to actually focus in algebra so thanks for that.

If I sprained my wrist it's your fault.

“Yeah, how’s it going?” you ask out of habit, while taking off your boots.

“Good, good. What was your first day back like, Dam? Your team suggested I report back.” He gives a thumbs up, but tilted a few degrees sideways to indicate decent instead of great. Unsatisfied, Isabella props her forearms on the counter, looking at him expectantly.

“So how was it?” she prompts, leaning forward like he’s gonna choose this moment to resume speaking. Damiano grabs your wrist and tugs towards his bedroom. Maybe he can disappear in silence, but you can’t.

“Dami stood on his desk in the middle of history and recited the Gettysburg Address from start to finish.”

“He did? No he didn’t,” Isabella scoffs, realizing it's a joke. “You have the most unique comedic timing, y/n.” You thank her, even though it's probably an insult. Shaking her head at your sarcasm occupies Isabella’s focus for a moment. Dami pulls you down the hall, just as he had through the common area before you got the chance to say bye to anyone.

While he shuts and locks the door you begin shedding the outer layers of your outfit. As soon as the nob clicks you turn around to kiss Damiano and find that he’s not there. He’s crouched down and unfastening your pants with laser focus.

“Oh, okay,” you beamed, aching for him. Belt, button, fly, and Dami places your dominant hand on his shoulder for balance while pulling the fabric down. When it gets stuck on your left ankle he gets frustrated and growls, yanking at it so aggressively he nearly knocks you over. As soon as the jeans are off Dami’s gaze focuses on your groin. Just observing his feral desperation is enough to make your cunt throb.

Damiano looks up to check your expression, then herds you towards the bed by your hips. With the back of your knees against the mattress, you look at him for direction. Losing all composure, he pushes you down, then forces himself to freeze. It appears his impatience has reached agony as Dami wrenches his laptop out of his bag in order to communicate. .

When I squeeze you say yes/no.

He slides back down your body so he’s kneeling on the floor. Wanting to give him room on the bed, you scoot up. Damiano growls, using a harsh grip under your knees to haul you back down. The excitement shoots up your spine and through your arms. He's being so vocal that it makes the seat of your underwear wet and sticky.

Given the positioning it should have been obvious, but oral was so far from on your mind. You would have trimmed the hedges, so to speak, had you anticipated

“Okay, but I haven’t showered since yesterday and –” Your voice climbs in pitch as he rips your underwear down, and pushes your thighs apart. Damiano doesn’t even bother getting the garment off both legs. Stitches tear as he gets the left side over your foot, but he just brushes the right side out of the way. He presses his face in between your thighs, breathing in your smell so forcefully that it'd be comical in another situation.

He locates your clit with his thumb first and then attaches his mouth. You squeal at such forceful suction, reflexively trying to get away, but he won’t let you. He drags you so far down the bed it feels like you’re about to fall off and presses his face between your legs again.

“Dami, Dami, it’s, that’s…okay. Okay,” you pant, as he focuses on your hymen. He traces around your opening with the tip of his tongue, moaning for the first time at the taste. It reverberates throughout your entire body. This is what had him so feral. Propped up on your elbows, you can see his absolute focus while inserting his pointer finger. He tries to go slow, thrusting shallowly. You probably thought this was about eating you out and not about wanting to eat you alive.

Carefully sweeping the pad of his finger back and forth, Damiano finds your scent glands. He pushes down on one side, forcefully massaging. You feel embarrassed because the motion is causing you to release an excessive amount of slick, more than was productive for sex. Not wanting Damiano to be put off, you try to back away. His snarl startles you. His top lip is almost curling, like a wolf guarding its food. Using both hands, he grabs your thighs and pulls you back down. You stay completely still, wishing Dami was verbal enough to communicate the goal.

He laps up the slick carefully, and you remind yourself to trust him. Using more force than in the past, he pushes the tip of his tongue inside you. It's a new sensation, nothing like getting fingered. Dami can articulate that appendage as he can nothing else: hot, wet, and oh so soft. Dami’s powerful moan vibrates through your abdomen at the taste of your cunt. He makes crude, slurping noises, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder.

“I ta – taste different?” He nods between your legs, finally raising his eyes. He’s gone into headspace, and you can feel his sharp canines pressed just outside your vulva. The proximity of what had easily pierced your skin a few days ago, right against your most delicate place, creates the strongest fear response to date. He’d never hurt you, at least not on purpose, but an accident was inevitable at some point.

“Careful. Be careful,” you urged. You’d only had this done to you a few times, and never to completion. There’s the concern about how long it might take you. Not to mention, high schooler boys rarely had adequate technique. Dami may be experienced and educated enough, but you were far too nervous to reach orgasam right now. One little nic would make everything painful for days. “Damiano,” you tug at his hair, trying to catch his attention and warn him. Assuming that pulling up meant you wanted his mouth to move up, Dami parted your inner folds. He used his tongue with a little help with his pointer finger, and fuck did it feel amazing. Dami paid careful attention to the center of your vulva, a place you ignored for lack of efficacy. Efficacy wasn’t the point, it was enjoyment. Selfishly, Damiano was prioritizing his own in tasting your slick.

Not only was your vulva filled with nerve endings, but receiving touch for the first time yielded the area highly sensitive. The way you squirmed and omitted high pitched noises both triggered Dami’s prey drive and his urge to protect. Every time you pulled away, but allowed yourself to be brought closer again, he wanted to savor the soft tissue of your inner thigh, feel how it gave way in his mouth. It was unfair for flesh to be so pillowy and biteable when he had to keep his teeth to himself.

When Damiano shifted his focus to the right of your cunt, you breathed a sigh. However, he began forcefully working a hickey into the widest part of your leg. With someone else this wouldn’t be indicative of anything, but Dami used hickies to supplement his urge to bite. As soon as he sucked the tender skin into his mouth, he pulled it between his teeth. Tugging, tugging, forcing himself to release while tightening his grip on your flank. An alarm was sounding in his head, Damiano reminding himself that he couldn’t just bite you when he wanted to convey affection. He sure as shit couldn’t remember why though.

Dami dropped his head in an effort to think, only for his downward gaze to fall on a wet spot on his sheets. Your slick had dripped from your pussy and onto the bed while he was preoccupied. Like liquid gold, and he’d wasted it. Thank god this was a product of marking, because if your cunt smelled this delicious to other alphas, Damiano would have to commit a war crime. And he would too.

The only thing that could compete with this heady elixir was the knowledge that it was made by your body for him, only. Every drop of slick belonged to him. Which meant your cunt belonged to him too, and then also your scent glands. Your neck belonged to him and so did every moan he elicited too. Every noise of pleasure, including masturbation if you were thinking of him and why the fuck couldn’t he bite you again?

Damiano was obviously mulling something over in his head, bearing his teeth while he did so. If you didn’t want him to break the skin, you could just ask and he’d respect that. But you can’t say the words, because it's not the real truth. You were afraid it’d hurt or bleed, without the invincible feeling of craving a mark. However, that was entirely different from an exclusive interest in gentle touches. The animal side of Damiano both captured and compelled you, while also scaring you shitless.

His brow furrows in thought, and Dami accidentally bumps your clit with his nose. You squeak in surprise and the next minute he’s forcing his tongue as far inside as possible while growling. At first the bridge of his nose is pressed to the top of your pussy, brushing against your clitorous. You finally engage, one arm propping you up and your free hand guiding Damiano until his face was situated in a way that made your mouth fall open.

“Mhm, like that,” you pant. Thinking he was helping, Dami pressed his face more firmly against your pussy while swapping his tongue out for two fingers. It goes from pleasurable to forceful to painful.

“Too much, Dami!” He looks up to check on you, while his fingers find your untouched scent gland. His gaze turns from concerned to ravenous as he watches you fall apart.

“Ah!” you cry out, arm buckling and leaving you to collapse on the bed awkwardly. Dami’s gaze devours the way your breasts jiggle and nipples harden. You try to adjust, but he’s is so fucking insistent massaging your scent gland. The release makes you feel even again, balanced. Dami hauls your other leg onto his shoulder and outright drinks the slick from your body.

He’s too deep in headspace to feel shame or self-consciousness. Dami tries to create a seal with his lips around your entrance. He growls, and suckles, and growls some more. It’s a totally novel sound, all desperation and no heat. You try to comfort him with a weak, shaking hand in his hair. This soon fails when he switches to licking you clean, because now you’re his pup again. Pups can’t speak, but you can still feel his canines against your skin as he kisses your cunt. This combination makes your nerves peak and chest tighten. Suddenly this is more intimidating than it is pleasurable.

You tap the bedding twice in short succession. By the third repetition Dami recognizes the signal and is crouched over you. His eyes rake up and down your body for the source of the issue, but all you need is to feel safe for a few moments so your nervous system can calm down. You try to communicate that you’re in head space with your eyes and somehow he picks up on it immediately.

Damiano reaches up to move the covers back and is so patient with your hindered movements. He pulls you a few feet onto the bed and helps you get your legs back from jelly to functional. Dami crouches, guarding as you slowly crawl under the covers. He slides in behind, helping you the rest of the way and throws the blankets over top.

The embrace starts as spooning, but naturally you gravitate towards laying on your stomach. He adjusts, one arm always snug around your waist. His free hand sweeps the hair from your face, making sure you can still breath. He rests that forearm just above your head and the sensation of being boxed in by Dami is immediately soothing. The weight of the covers, presence of his body, and comfort of the position result in a heavy sigh of contentment. Yes, this is exactly what you needed and Damiano knew that.

Dami is affectionate and reassuring in canine dialect, his hums and rumbles both felt and heard. The sensation that you’ve been plunged into headspace without warning subsides, even as everything remains fuzzy. Dami knows your predisposition to panicking when your biology takes control and is trying to keep you in this calm mentality. Marking is only going to make things more intense and now he’s wishing you’d taken that step after making love a few times first. You’re dealing with so many unknowns and exercising an incredible amount of faith right out the gate.

At first you enjoy the sensation of being in headspace with so much physical and emotional intimacy. Then you convince yourself to enjoy it. Then you attempt to ignore the claustrophobia because, if anything, you’ve sunk deeper rather than gotten closer to the surface. At this point Dami can feel you tensing and you try to break out of headspace with brute force. You make your heavy eyelids stay open, screaming at your body to move, trying to form speech. The inability to create a cognizant thought causes your chest to tighten in panic.

Damiano scents you but it's a careful balancing act between calming and making the dissociation worse. It has the unintended effect of bringing all attention to your engorged cunt. Expelling slick was a far cry from orgasam. All that stimulation, though not for your benefit, had worked you up dramatically and suddenly you’re very bothered by Dami’s state of dress.

Your free hand crawls up to Damiano’s arm and tugs at his sleeve. You whine to indicate that you want something and he puts the two together quickly. Damiano sheds his clothes while keeping as close as possible. His hard cock is pressed to your tailbone and careful hands work your sweater and bra off. As soon as Damiano takes you in his arms the skin and skin contact grounds you.

His embrace is gentle enough that you can scoot up until his cock is level with the crease of your glute. Damiano assumes you're getting comfortable up until his dick is suddenly between your thighs, against your pussy. He makes a sound like he’s just been punched and tenses so hard it knocks the wind out of you.

“Air, air!” you wheeze, pulling at his muscular forearms, flexed to display his veins. Dami relaxes only to jolt again when you undulate your hips, working his cock against your vulva and inner thighs wetted with slick. Leaning forward allows the end of his shaft to bump your clit. It feels best when his cock pulses as it becomes painfully hard. Trying to keep the stimulation close, you rub your thighs together and that leaves you moaning into the bed. How were you ever supposed to use a dildo when you’d felt Dami’s racing heart throbbing against your pussy as he whimpered behind you?

All the arousal was making him sweat which meant you got to smell his body odor too. Trying to bring your alpha closer somehow, you reach between your legs and part your labia. He follows your hand and ceases breathing while trying to figure out what you were doing. When he feels the next rush of slick drip directly onto his cock, Dami’s primal brain takes over. Against his will, Damiano’s hips stuttered forward at a crazed pace for a few seconds. He holds you tighter through it, trying to weather the instinctual response.

Since it’s so obvious that you want, nay need, the same thing, you take initiative, arching your hips back. Shifting your pelvis lines Damiano’s cock up with your entrance. Everything is already so well lubed that his tip begins slipping past the ring of your hymen. However, the head of Dami’s cock is flared and you can’t get enough traction to push him inside. You try bracing your hands against the bedsheet and pushing back, but it doesn’t work without Damiano’s lower body engaged as well as his upper.

Rather than endure the sexual frustration you attempt to ask nicely with a whimper and nuzzling against his bicep. Dami’s pheromones shift and he momentarily loses his self restraint by forcefully nibbling behind your ear. His face is tucked against your neck, so you have to abandon the stimulation and flip over to address him. Chest to chest, you fling one leg over his hip and bring his throbbing cock against your cunt again. His free hand shoots over to your thigh, but trembles mid-air. The only thing that makes contact are barely there brushes of his fingertips. Whatever this thing was, some blinding hunger that he was holding at bay, you had to know it.

Rather than asking a question with words: can we make love? You make a request with your expression and energy. When your eyes finally do meet, his charcoal black, you try to convey how deeply into sexual submission you’re willing to fall. Let's make love. Damiano sees the request for what it is: an expression of necessity. I need you to take my autonomy away so that I can be reenergized.

He finally allows his hand to mold the supple tissue of your thigh and uses the hold to roll the both of you onto your back. Dami sits up, moving away from instead of into you. A sound of dissent threatens to surface when Damiano throws your thighs over his. His legs are splayed out to the side and yours extended behind him. It’s an odd sex position, but Dami isn’t using it for love making. His gaze falls to your exposed pussy, running a finger from clitoral hood to vaginal opening.

Dami inserts one finger, then two. The pace is slower than anything else has been today and the urge to protest in canine dialect wins. You whine, which drops Damiano’s peaceful smile and does nothing else. Despite how testy he’d been earlier, you squirm away and Dami huffs in frustration.

“No!” he barks. His voice was scratchy and guttural from lack of use. Hearing him speak surprises you so much that you freeze. That single syllable was probably accidental. Still, you’re fighting emotions that aren’t conducive to orgasam.

Let me admire you.

He types with his left hand while his right never leaves your body. Dami’s fingers drag your slick back up your pussy then strokes down either side. He does the motion again, grinning as your entrance tenses from the teasing. Damiano uses his index and middle finger to trace between your inner and outer labia. You can feel his hip bones digging into your thighs as your entire body squeezes down. When your brain registers that there’s nothing for you to squeeze down on you become blatantly needy.

“Inside me now,” you punctuate with two painfully high pitched whines. Last night you’d felt too intimidated by the intensity of your first time to have penetrative sex so soon. Now you were begging.

In Damiano’s face is an awareness of how much marking had demanded of you. At times, you’d been overwhelmed to the point of distress. Today he’d just wanted orgasam for the both of you, satisfied with however that was reached. Since Friday night, his brain had been supplying him with endless possibilities: a Plan A and if that was too much, a Plan B, and if that was still overwhelming a Plan C. For each variable he’d come up with alternatives and corresponding aftercare. All these fantasies had sustained him.

Some were simple: like eating you out until the over-sensitivity had you begging for a break. Others banked on your love of friction: thigh riding, allowing you to grind against the fly of Dami’s jeans while seated on his lap. A personal favorite was having you straddle his supine body and rubbing your clit up and down his shaft. This would be a great first step in teaching you how to make yourself cum while riding his cock. Or perhaps you’d already figured this out and wouldn't that be a glorious visual. Cheeks flushed, mouth parted while panting, fighting to keep your eyelids open, and letting out those primal, little grunts you never seemed to be aware you were making.

By the end of today he’d come up with seven different positions he'd like to finger you in. Some allowed kissing, others allowed him to admire your body and how it reacted in order to catalog every microscopic response. Upon remembering you were wearing tight jeans, Damiano had even brainstormed acts that didn’t require you to take your clothes off. He’d prepared himself well, all to counteract how badly he wanted to fuck you on the bedroom floor until your squealed and kicked and cried and scratched and bit and demanded more even though you were sore.

Now, here you were beneath him. Trying to school your face into something irresistible as if you hadn’t been irresistible since skipping into the street to meet him this morning. Your eagerness to greet Dami had been completely untainted by all of the bullshit. Then you launched your entire being into a kiss of unmitigated joy and his brain had short circuited. And now he was supposed to cope with you pleading for his cock. It was a fucking impossible task for any mortal being, especially one enslaved to whatever golden elixir lay between your legs.

Much to your delight, Damiano had surged forward into missionary position so quickly that you couldn’t even keep track of his limbs. In an impassioned dichotomy, Damiano’s right hand rubbed the head of his dick against your pussy while his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Except, this time no knot. I’m sorry, I just –” Dami pulls back so you can see his expression, eyebrows furrowed in empathy. “Right, you understand.” Speech is possible, but it feels unnatural. Damiano rests some of his weight on you in order to free a hand.

But I don’t need to understand your boundaries to respect them.

At a loss for words, you nod in return, goosebumps raising on your arms. It was a radical thing for an alpha to say to his omega. If Dami would give you the tiniest bit of momentum forward, you wouldn’t have to be separate. Searching for the right word or expression makes you desperate enough that your bottom lip trembles. Instead, you wrap both legs around Dami and pull him closer, nails digging into his shoulder blades. The burning desire for your alpha has your cunt engorged with blood and throbbing just like his cock.

Dami heeds your request and the diameter stretch of his shaft is more challenging than last time. Immediately, your chest tightens with anxiety. What if you can’t take it? What if he doesn’t fit and you can’t have sex? Only then does it occur to you that this might have been quite painful last time, but you hadn’t noticed because your brain was flooded with endorphins in anticipation of a mark.

Less than half of the way in, Dami stops because you’re too tense for this to be comfortable on either side. He can see you thinking that it’s the end of the world and not a natural part of the process. It’s the second time ever that you’ve taken an alpha cock. He settles the weight of his pelvis and prompts you to look up at him. Dami’s face is relaxed, unbothered, without a hint of impatience. The fact that he expected this reaction from you puts everything in perspective and you take a deep breath.

During the exhale, he pushes deeper inside. You sink into the mattress rather than flexing every muscle in fear of failure. All that tensing seems to be the main issue because Dami grunts at the amount he’s able to penetrate. A hand moves to stroke your hair and your brain is a little cloudy. Only then do you make the connection from the compulsion for deep breaths and Damiano’s pheromones shifting to reassure you.

“Hm…mhm,” you sigh, head heavy against the pillow. He thrusts forward, but has to pause again. The anger at your body for this betrayal is red hot, and twists your face into resentment. Relax, relax, just fucking relax! Why won’t your body let you make love to the alpha you trust so deeply? The exasperation brought tears to your eyes, and that felt like just another betrayal.

“I want it to work! I want you! I don’t understand.” The emotional anguish manifested as tension that actually pushed Dami out. You panicked, trying to bring him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist, but that just hurt. He kisses your forehead and pulls out. Your body is failing at its very purpose. Your stomach sinks as if its it's being closed in a fist at Damiano just outright giving up so easily. How long can you keep an alpha without penetrative sex? How long could you keep your sanity without Damiano making love to you?

Damiano’s anxiety about future expectations couldn’t compete with the instinct to protect. You had absolutely no sense of perspective and were looking at him like he’d abandoned you. All Dami wanted was to put a pillow under your hips to make things more comfortable.

“Hips up,” he coaches. For a moment the sound of his voice renders you frozen. Damiano repeats himself, drawing out each syllable, and your brain finally processes the command.

“Is this because you’re an alpha?”

“This is because it feels good.”

He lays down to eliminate space between your bodies and places his lips against the shell of your ear.

“I know you feel like you can take it all at once, but hormone suppressants limit the production of oxytocin and relaxin. Your pelvis isn’t as elastic, but you still have to be nice to your body. It’s doing its best and I’m not in any rush.” Even in whispers, the timbre of Damiano’s voice is warm and soothing. He can taste the tears while kissing your profile, feel the sob rattling your chest.

“I missed-ed the s-sound of you–your voice.” You take a couple gasping breaths and try to control the tears.

“I can feel that. I can feel you.” The meaning of that second sentence doesn’t click until the next exhale, when Dami thrusts forward until he bumps your cervix, all the way behind your belly button. The sensation is so deep so immediately that it startles you. Dami is propped up on his arms again, watching your expression. There’s surprise, but no pain. He wishes you would stop crying. However, if the situation were reversed, and he hadn’t heard your voice in nearly a week, he’d be wiping snot away between ugly sobs.

Even though he’s stationary and waiting for you to acclimate, Dami’s chest is heaving like he just finished practice. He closes his eyes and scowls while trying to take deep breaths that just get caught in his throat. You’ve never seen his self control so thin.

“My love, what’s happening?” Damiano shakes his head and sets his jaw. “I know what it looks like when you’re holding –” He growls and shifts, right hand getting a bruising hold on your thigh. The flesh puckers up between his fingers while he pulls back and drives into you. Instead of the normal conscientious movement, Damiano thrusts deeper than you’ve ever been penetrated. There's no braking for safety or sanity’s sake and he bottoms out uncomfortably. This makes you yelp, but Damiano doesn’t stop thrusting; he just shortens the strokes and holds even tighter. His face relaxes while plunging his cock into your cunt at a jack rabbit pace, even with the sound of skin roughly colliding with skin.

“Dami,” you whisper. His eyes fly open and he freezes, body so full of kinetic energy that he’s nearly quivering. Using both hands on his back, you pull your alphas body downwards. As soon as that skin to skin contact is reestablished he’s gyrating back and forth. Dami’s lips are curled to reveal his teeth as he snarls and tries to control the feral, sexual kinetic energy. He’s being so passionate and god damn forceful that his pubic bone nudges your clit.

“Do that again!” you mewl. Dami grinds against you from slightly varying angles, but can’t elicit the right sensation.

“Scoot down,” he grunts, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Every time he speaks, it echoes through your ribcage like a hymn. Laying directly under Dami combined with the elevation from the pillow evokes that pleheavenly sensation you’d sought a moment ago, clit against his happy trail. Your alpha resumes plowing into you over and over, until it pushes you up the mattress. Every vein and tendon in Dami’s neck is visible and his face is flushed bright red. Hot puffs of air hit your cheek as he fights for adequate oxygen. He might as well be sprinting, but the need for relief obviously outweighs exhaustion.

Damiano is visibly working through something so you relax against the bed and enjoy the view. His hands, slick with sweat, try to create a grip on the slats of his headboard so he can build momentum. As if repeatedly driving you into the mattress wasn’t already audible. Every muscle is flexed, from his forearms to his pecs. Tiny beads of sweat collect just below his hairline in a pattern. He hasn’t bothered to put his hair up, and tangled locks tickle your nipples.

Dami’s right hand slips and you hear fabric rip right next to your ear. The appendage at fault, unfurled in a claw shape, tries to find purchase on the edge of the mattress and ends up tearing the fitted sheet. It’s a reminder of how much raw power Dami contains. He cries out in frustration as the other hand falls. When Dami’s chest collides with yours, it also brings your pelvises closer. What had started as a nice little bit of stimulation becomes delicious. He gasps for air while readjusting, mumbling something you don’t understand. On the next instroke you’re moaning against his shoulder.

“Talk to me! Anything, grocery list, doesn’t matter.” The inappropriateness of the outburst only hits you after the words are said. You can’t just demand someone who hasn’t spoken for five days to do so for the sake of your orgasam.

“Ho un debole,” he gasps, “per te! Ti amo con tutto il cu – cuore!” His thrusts become shallow: cock fully seated, out a couple inches, and back inside you. You almost complain about the loss of your stimulation when Dami growls and both hands become fists. He freezes, collapses, gets his forearms back under him, and fights for air with a necessity that's uncomfortable to observe. Then he tries to resume full strokes, collapses again, and convulses. It's such a visceral reaction that your alpha is squirming not to lose physical closeness while whining into the bed.

“Y/n, y/n,” he whimpers. You soothe him through whatever this moment of intensity is. Then give Damiano a minute to recuperate before continuing, just enjoying the sensation of his cock, the way it was warm, filling, and reassuring. After a couple seconds, Damiano props his chin up and looks at you. His expression is novel. Damiano averts his eyes and smiles with only the right side of his mouth. It’s not a real smile though, he’s bashful.

“What?” you jostle him.

“I, I…” he sighs and meets your gaze. “Finished. I – this is so fucking embaressing. I’m really sorry.” He covers his face with one hand then hides his expression against your breast instead. “It’s just I was so focused on holding back a knot that I –”

“You were in pain,” you exclaim, horrified. How could you not consider Damiano obvious discomfort when he did knot you? Holding back must have been excruciating. You could have worn a condom to make things easier, but even the thought of putting barriers between you was offensive.

“No! Well…yeah, but mostly I just couldn’t do both. Plus, you’re so,” he trails off and sighs, still panting. “I don’t know what it is, but I’d probably drink your bath water at this point.”

“Ew, Dami!”

“What? It’s not my fault you became an addictive substance post marking!”

“Uh TMI, but I’m probably ovulating. Maybe that’s affecting you now that I’m claimed?” Dami’s cock twitches inside you, but at the same time he lets out a forlorn groan. “What is it!?”

“You’re telling me I’m gonna have to survive this every month?” He drops his head against your neck in defeat, where Dami is suddenly very distracted by your scent gland.

“It’s only one day a month and we –” You swallow hard to muster up some courage. “We can make love every time and I can even skip showering afterwards.”

“If you don’t shower I’m gonna have a brain aneurysm,” he quips, darkly. “Sweat, slick, all those fucking pheramones, plus my smell all over you…

“Yeah?” You undulate your hips against his, coaxing Dami to resume thrusting. He catches on, mouth falling open from the sensation.

“I, I mean you — I wouldn’t let you leave my house. I’d just keep you in my den and drink your slick and…” He trails off, crawling his forearms forward to bring his hips a couple inches above yours. By thrusting shallowly, you get to rub your clit against the base of his cock. Its a fuck of a lot more effective that brushing his skin an inch up and getting tickled by body hair. A desperate cry leaves your mouth before you can calibrate the noise into something pretty, or at least quieter.

“Legs up,” he pants. Discovering the pleasure in forcefully rubbing against Damiano is intuitive. Getting the rhythm is a bit of trial and error, but when he rests his pelvis the pressure on your clit makes you see stars. Dami’s groin is so close to yours that you can barely see his mauve shaft, shining with slick, plunging in and out of your body. His member is progressively getting darker as more blood flows to the area. It’s then that you finally realize, without knowing it, you’ve taken every inch of his alpha cock. Just to experience Dami’s appendage in its full glory, you use your heels to bring his groin against yours with targeted force. Simultaneously, you buck off the pillow and Dami thrusts so deeply that his pubic bone is flush against yours.

You whine in canine dialect, an uninhibited expression of feral satiation. By some heavenly instinct, Dami grinds up and down against your vulva, stimulating your g-spot in the process. You rake your nails down his back and wonder why the fuck you’d never tried this before. The stimulation was so powerful you could feel your eyes sting as they watered. Your feet are kicking the air just trying to externalize some of it.

Finally checking on Damiano, and he has a look of tortured concentration. You speak with the intent of bringing him, wherever he is, into this wonderful moment with you.

“Love, I can take all of you. Can you feel it? Are you proud of me?” He whimpers and nods, which is much less of a response than you were expecting. Reading the expressions Damiano makes during sex would have to be a skill you eventually hone. For example, he looks unhappy, but his body is full of enthusiasm, from his committed thrusts to his pulsing cock to his noises of pleasure.

“This feels so fucking incredible that I –” a couple tears run down your cheeks from the intensity of sensation. You bring a hand to Dami’s hair and watch his face begin to relax before he does the worst thing possible. Damiano’s eyes fly open in panic and he tries to pull out. You lock your legs around him, one hand cupping his neck and the other digging your nails into his back. It’s like being woken by having freezing water dumped on your face.

“NO! No, no, stop.” He shakes his head and tries to wrench backward. Even before your conscious mind realized how much it didn’t want this moment to end, your animal brain clamped down with every ounce of strength.

“Let go so I don’t hurt you!” he growls.

“Stop! Why?”

“Knot. Can’t stop it. Can’t!”

“Yes! Yes, I want it!”

“Y/n,” he warns, pulling back with considerably less vigor. His face is twisted in pain, teeth clenched. The vein in the center of his forehead is visible as he strains.

“I changed my mind! I want it. Love, come here, I want it.” Damiano completely collapses and exhales hard.

“I can’t stop it. Can’t,” he whimpers, shuddering. “I can’t, I can’t.” He sounds so upset at this tiny niche where he doesn’t have self-control.

“Love, will you please knot me? Can I have your knot? I want it so bad,” you whisper into his ear. “Please make love to me with your knot.” You can’t imagine a version of yourself that wouldn’t want to be connected this way, at any cost. All that anxiety melted away, so forgotten that you didn’t even recall making this request until the moment of. Dami nods against your neck, accepting this.

“Show me your face.” You try to pull his head upwards. All Dami can manage is resting his forehead against yours, trying not to slip in the sweat. The release of all this pressure is euphoric for him, but forming the knot is still uncomfortable. He’s freezing up and hunkering down, hands in fists, upper body tensed.

“Move with me a little,” you coo, just rocking your hips. Damiano does so and it helps him process the overwhelming sensation. You can feel the knot forming this time, know where it's going to be centered. Having that intrusion against your scent glands, after Damiano had been so thorough in stimulating them, sounded unpleasant.

“Deeper. All the way,” you ask. He heeds your request and you can feel the pressure from the knot above your belly button. Damiano trembles against you and without that stabilization, he would probably collapse. Seeing your alpha so void of defenses was a privilege. This was no accident, he’d decided to allow you this close and allow himself to fall apart in front of you. Dami’s mouth was wide open as he pulled this knot from the very core of his alphaism, thick eyebrows first raised, then furrowed while he groaned.

“Breathe with me,” you coax, and not just for his benefit. You hike your legs up higher because that feels good, knees at the bottom of Dami’s ribcage. Keeping calm is key, even as the knot starts to feel invasive it also feels fundamentally right. For the first time today, Dami’s face relaxes, finally.

“That’s it, I think.”

“Huh?”

“My knot, that's all.”

“Oh,” you sigh, breaking into a smile, too preoccupied with how serene he looked. “Okay!” Dami shudders like he’s reached the point of oversensitivity, but he’s smiling.

“Holy shit, I really needed this.” His sturdy arms shake and Dami collapses against you, groaning in embarrassment. “I swear to god I can be good in bed.” He’s purposely hyperventilating, trying to supply enough oxygen to get his strength back.

“Why are you rushing? It’s me.” Damiano’s eyes change from motivated to doting and he lets out an exaggerated whine. He’s blushing so hard that his ears are red. You run a finger over the soft skin on the shell of his ears.

“Maybe I should be on top for now.”

“I swear on my life I can be good in bed…and if I’m not I will learn so fucking quickly,” he swears, visable anxious.

“I really like that thing we were just doing,” you reassure.

“Well of course you do,” he smirks, the return of his confidence seemingly instantaneous. Now you’re the one blushing, even though you don’t even know what Dami is referencing.

“Of course you liked grinding your cunt on my alpha cock. That felt good didn’t it, love?” Your breath gets caught in your chest and Dami starts rocking up and down like he had earlier. Moving against him, finding the exact right pace came so naturally..

“Grinding is your favorite thing, baby.” He waits for you to answer, but in your eyes lies a question. “Poor omega, doesn’t even know her favorite way to cum.” You try to respond without sacrificing rhythm.

“I like…you.“ That doesn’t begin to cover it, but those three syllables are all you can muster.

“You like rubbing your clit on me,” Dami deadpans. You falter and lose rhythm, then can’t get back into the right pace. After a second failed orgasam you throw a mini-tantrum, whining in anguish. Damiano immediately feels guilty for interrupting with his teasing.

“Follow me,” he coaches, focused on keeping the exact same pace you enjoyed before being distracted. After a couple false starts, you sigh in relief when finding your pleasure again. Dami watches you surrender, relaxing into the mattress. He’s not expecting to feel you hauling him downward with all four limbs.

“Closer,” you demand, coiling your legs so tightly that it creates a seal. Dami shifts to his forearms and realizes what you really want is the pressure of his body against your pussy. He obliges and as soon as Damiano rests his weight, you squeal and kick.

“Good omega,” he murmurs, lower back beginning to tire at repeating the same movement for the last 15 minutes. The stimulation has reached a point where you’re trembling slightly at all times. It’s not like you hadn’t warned Dami that it took you longer to cum, but he just attributed that to incompetent past lovers. He knew better than to let you sense his surprise. Self-consciousness was an excellent way to make sure you never orgasamed with him again.

You were trying to find that last bit of something needed to finish. Abandoning insecurity, you hand over control to your body and follow its intuition. Attempting to bring more intensity via pressure from your heels didn’t work. So you reach a hand all the way down to Dami’s glute and pull him more forcefully against you, gripping the muscle. He’s actually impressed with how carnal you’re being.

You’d gotten much more worked up than Damiano intended. Accidentally edging you was not on the day's agenda. Orgasam during marking was a given, so Dami had just wanted to finish you while making love.

“Don’t tense and stop breathing. Breath with me like usual, okay? In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” At first you shake your head, not wanting to put in the effort. In less than a second Damiano snaps his jaw right outside your ear and snarls. You’re very quickly nodding instead.

“In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” Immediately, you realize how low your oxygen intake was on the cusp of orgasam. You’d been within a minute of cumming for so long, and received meaningful stimulation even before that. As soon as you focused on your air intake it was a fight not to gasp.

“Good girl.” Damiano watches the way your chest rises and falls. “Very good omega,” he reiterates. “Next time you want this, just ask for harder.” He grinds against you with little thrusts, employing all that force you were trying to create. It's rougher than you ever thought you’d like, but you do like it, very much so. Your limbs are moving independently, flailing and searching for some palace to anchor. You fold yourself around Damiano so he can’t stop this movement, so he won’t deprive you again.

“Breathe,” he demands. It’s too hard, so you shake your head and Damiano is once again by your ear. He presses your profile into the pillow and this time you can hear impatience in his snarl. Making good on his warning, Dami bites you as a consequence. The sensation makes you gasp and catch your breath, just as he wanted. Still, inhaling is hard because you’re on the brink of orgasam. You’ve been on the brink of orgasam. Cumming in front of people has always been an issue. It just hadn’t been with Dami up until now.

“I can’t do it! I don’t know why, but I can’t. I want to, but I just can’t. Ugh!” Damiano slows way down, but keeps the same amount of force.

“Yes, you can. Say it.”

“I can’t –”

“I know you’re able to submit, but you have to want to. Say it.” You think for a moment, then cave.

“I can cum.” It feels stupid, like some self help bullshit.

“You can cum.” Damiano staring into your eyes and telling you this, commanding it, feels a great deal different.

“I can cum.” Your bodies increase the pace in tandem, familiar with this movement after so many repetitions already.

“You can cum.” The sensation of orgasam crawls up your throat like a scream. Cosmic energy flows through your body, all the way to your fingertips. It’s immediately overwhelming and you want to back down. Making love to an alpha brought a different level of intensity, with the primal aspects and unparalleled connection. However, you’d thought that was something shared, not reflected in your individual orgasam. Was this an individual experience, though? Because it didn’t feel individual, in fact it felt like Damiano was in your head a little bit.

“You can cum,” he repeats. This was a sensation you’d first like to experience independently, before someone else saw your reaction. Of course, the only to feel this was in front of Damiano.

“I’m scare – I don’t like…”

“I know, love. You can cum.”

“I can cum,” you whisper so low that some of the syllables aren’t even spoken.

“You can cum.” You inhale and pull Damiano close, his skin an endless anecdote.

“I can cum. I can cum, I can cum, I can – Dami! Dami,Dami!!” you squeal while squirming in overwhelm. He’s in your ear counting. The sensation of orgasam momentarily chokes you before turning your vision black. Eyes now scrunched closed, you see stars while your pelvis cramps again and again. You give up moving and cling, but Dami keeps working you through your orgasam.

It stretches on and on, so much longer than any other climax before. You gather a bit of courage and open your eyes, gazing at Damiano while your nails ruin his back. Seeing him as the waves of endorphins debilitate you is the best comfort. He’s still in headspace, watching over you with an intensity that would scare anyone else. But not you, notes Dami. You look at him like he’s the sun while bearing down on his cock with everything you’ve got.

His pubic hair is soaked with your slick. He notices this and the thought causes a chain reaction. Both Dami’s hips and cock twitch which prompts your eyelids to flutter. He tries thrusting and now your back is arching, pushing your breasts towards his face. Damiano pulls a nipple into his warm, wet mouth, the foreign sensation making you shudder while your eyes actually roll into the back of your head. Mindlessly, Damiano starts using his teeth, just scraping up the side of the sensitive bud. You squeal in the way he so enjoyed earlier while your nails bruise his shoulder blades.

Judging by the very visceral reaction, it's obvious he’s unlocked the key to future orgasams. You let out noises like an injured animal the moment before its neck is snapped. Damiano is overcome, by the urge to consume you, by the urge to protect his omega who has revealed her own fragility in a moment of pleasure.

Through the intensity of the interaction, he’d forgotten to make sure you’re breathing to draw out your climax. After a few seconds of clenching your entire body, that shining peak is summited, and you fall into the afterglow. He watches your face crumple and finally remembers to release. Damiano is horrified to see that his teeth have left purple marks in your areola. The only thing that could satiate is mating, but it was way too early to ask for that. It was too early to think about it.

He moves to pull out, but feels your legs tighten around his hips. It wasn’t any use to begin with, you were still knotted.The place omega and alpha joined was a great comfort as your head was made cloudy by a surplus of oxytocin. However, Dami’s presence was diminished without him moving, or speaking, or scenting. Mentally, you reach towards your alpha with both hands. And physically try to do the same, but fail. He’d been so precisely in tune with you a minute ago.

“My love,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of the way and putting his lips on your neck. It's just what you’d wanted. Damiano caresses your ass and rolls onto his side so he can hold you with both arms. You sigh, trying to feel your fingers and toes as he kisses all over your face, except the lips. Forehead three times, cheeks, up the bridge of the nose, and even the chin. His hands rub your back slowly as you come down, reminding that he’d instructed you not to rush this part before. Still, some reassurance would be nice.

“I don’t…rush,” you try.

“Mhm, take your time, love. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere. I cherish this time with you. Don’t rush your body, love. You’re doing perfectly.” You nod, hoping he’ll keep going. “My omega is doing the best job. My omega is doing exactly what she’s supposed to. Y/n is such a good girl, you’re doing so well.” Damiano’s affirmations feel like liquid gold in your veins. Never had you dared to ask for these words that felt so euphoric to hear, not wanting to be vulnerable. To like encouragement, was to want it, was to have a weakness.

“I’m weak with you.”

“No baby,” he murmured. “You’re just you.”

Notes: fuck it. this is not gonna do well numbers wise because my Tumblr hasn't been restored. while I am an attention whore, I'm so tried of not posting this when its been totally done for days so

-XOXO Eden

Taglist: @bieberhoodforever@blackberryblossom@butkutee@cuzimitaliano@elvirabelle@iamtashaquinn@icarodamiano@idyllicbutterfly@ilwiwbysmv@immrbrightsideeee@little-moonbeam-666@maneslut@mortyandem@the-chaotic-cow@wasteddoubts@weareoddlydrawn@whore4damia@azertyhug@biancathecool@xweirdxsceletton@bohemianrainbow@daisy0gf@dustyinkpages@katyldamusic@minnietmouse@obiw4n@persona1read1ng@gr8rainbowpunk@hiraetheral@iosonoarina@l0standn0tf0und@que--sera--sera@stardustingold@teenyweenynightghost@softmullet@solacestyles@thegeminisgirl@bobfood@slavicgoddess13 @harryssshouseee

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ry0chann · 2 years

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AFTERMATH || Doppo Kunikida

彡 SUMMARY: Kunikida surprisingly shows his face at your dorm once more to repay you for the favor you did for him last night.

彡 WARNINGS: college au, smut, afab!reader, virgin!Kunikida, loss of virginity, ooc Kunikida probably, some nipple play (f), oral (f), fingering, some orgasm denial/edging, quick handjob, vaginal penetration, technical creampie, literally not proofread at all

彡 WORD COUNT: 5.0k (oops)

. . . this is technically a sequel to “seven” minutes in heaven btw. you don’t have to read that for this fic to make sense, but it does give a bit of plot in regards to the reader’s relationship with Kunikida & sort of sets up the plot for this one. i'm also entering this piece into my young & in love collab :)

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED, MINORS DNI!

It may not have been a promise, but Dazai did in fact, manage to convince Kunikida to pay you a visit today. The blonde was reluctant, which was to be expected. He was worried he’d appear desperate, showing up to your dorm the day after you two fooled around. Unbeknownst to him, though, you were hoping to see him.

Dazai’s statement last night had you anticipating Kunikida’s arrival. Not because you actually expected anything to happen, but because you genuinely enjoyed being around him. Still, after the events of yesterday, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of seeing him again.

Your roommate was out with some friends, leaving you alone in the silence of your dorm. A sudden knock at your door startles you just a bit, getting your heart to beat a little faster. It wasn’t certain that Kunikida would be the one on the other side, though part of you hoped it would be. Yet, for whatever reason, you were nervous.

Maybe it was because you liked the man, and simply being in his presence made you giddy. Or maybe it was the fact that the night prior, you were trapped in a closet and difiling him. Regardless, you push your thoughts aside and open the door, only to be greeted by the sight of a blushing Kunikida.

He appeared tense, as though he didn’t want to be here. You step out of his way, letting him enter then shutting the door behind him. The air in the room now was thick enough to cut with a knife. Why did things feel so awkward? It wasn’t normally like this, so why now? Had last night’s affair actually ruined things between you? Trying not to stress yourself out, you sit on your bed with a sigh, patting the spot beside you to invite Kunikida over.

“You don’t have to stand there like a stranger, y’know. Come sit.”

His ears grow red with embarrassment, but he sits down. If anything, he looked more stiff now than he did two minutes ago. Did you really make him that uneasy? He’s always been the reserved type, perhaps that was the reason he was so closed off around you.

You wanted to avoid small talk, afraid that it would only strengthen the awkward atmosphere in the room. At the same time, it felt impossible to start a conversation. There was a sudden feeling of worry washing over you as well. Worry that last night may have been a mistake, or that Kunikida only came here today to tell you he wants to remain friends.

“Um, Kunikida?” You turn your head towards him, keeping your voice low. “Was there something you needed? Or um, something you wanted to talk about?”

He takes a deep breath, in attempts to calm his nerves. What did he want? He couldn’t have possibly come here just because Dazai told him to. He definitely wasn’t complaining about having the alone time with you, he just needed to figure out how he wanted to use this time. Kunikida shifts in his seat, sighing once more.

“I remember telling you I had a favor to return… Though I suppose it’s too soon for me to be pushing it.” His words come out as a near whisper, like he was scared to hear your response.

You blush darkly at his comment, not expecting him to say what he said. Sure, he said he’d eventually “return the favor,” to which you agreed. And yes, Dazai may have told you he’d get Kunikida to come over today, but you didn’t expect any of that to actually happen. You weren’t necessarily against the idea, it was just a lot to take in all at once.

You chuckle sheepishly, “O-oh, um, you know you don’t actually have to, right? N-not that I don’t want you to, I just, um…”

Flustered, you trample over your own words. You didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, though this entire situation felt like the repercussion of miscommunication.

“I do want to.” he speaks, keeping his eyes in front of him rather than on you.

The sound of his voice snaps you out of your scrambled thoughts, only flustering you more.

“Y-you do?” you ask, still trying to figure out if he was pulling your leg or not.

Kunikida nods, pushing up his glasses with a finger as he finally gives you his attention.

“Forgive me for being so forward, but I wanted to bring it up before I lost the courage to.”

You’re left speechless, unsure of how to continue the conversation. There were too many thoughts bouncing around in your head for you to think straight. You genuinely didn’t think this would be happening today, yet here he was, offering it. You swallow hard, poorly keeping your composure as you find the words to say.

“Kunikida… A-are you sure?”

He nods once more, “I am…” Kunikida falls silent for a moment, still blushing like crazy.

That awkwardness hadn’t faded, especially now. You wondered where to go from here; if you should jump right into things or build up to it. If all he was here for was that, then was there really any problem with jumping into things? Well, yes. Kunikida had absolutely no experience, aside from last night’s affair with you. And he very obviously liked you— you liked him too— so you didn’t want him to feel like you were using him, or that this would turn into some sort of “friends with benefits” type of situation. You scoot a little closer to him, letting your shoulder brush against his. His eyes seem fixated on yours, as if he were caught in a trance.

“Let’s just, um, start slow, okay?” you state, still worried that rushing into this wasn’t the right move.

Kunikida hums in agreement, and not even two seconds later, is he cupping your cheek and leaning in for a kiss. You’re too stunned to pull away, or stop him. Feeling his lips on yours again triggers the memory of all that happened yesterday. You were reminded of what it felt like to kiss him, and how surprised you were by how good it was.

His boldness had you taken aback, you almost didn’t know how to react. Last night must’ve changed something in him. It doesn’t take you too long to find your confidence, though. You’re soon moving to sit on his lap, your tongue languidly slipping into his mouth all the while.

Kunikida groans, gripping your waist with more force than you expected. His grip was quite strong, as if he wanted to ensure you’d remain on top of him. It honestly shocked you how easily you both gave in to one another. Initially, you were worried about moving too fast, blushing and stuttering like high schoolers. Yet here you were now, caught in a steamy makeout session without a second thought. His fingers slip under your shirt, their warmth closing around your waist.

Even though it was only a few hours ago that the two of you were doing this for the first time, it felt different now. Maybe it was because you knew you would be receiving some type of pleasure this time. However, there was also the possibility of the two of you taking things a little further than that. You weren’t stuck in a closet this time, after all, which meant you had the freedom to do as you pleased. You weren’t sure if Kunikida would want that, though. If he did, then maybe he’d bring it up later.

The taste of his lips were distracting you from your thoughts, making it difficult for you to stress over anything in the first place. You fit together like puzzle pieces— so perfectly, you swore you’ve never felt this comfortable with someone before. He was still nervous, despite how effortlessly he kissed you. You could feel his hands shaking ever so slightly as they ran up and down your sides. His breaths were already labored, and you could feel his rapid pulse beneath your palms, which rest at the slope of his neck. Reluctantly, you pull away, smirking a bit when you see how flushed his face is.

“One second.” you murmur, getting off his lap.

Hurriedly, you place a little sign outside on the doorknob. A subtle indicator to your absent roommate that you were “busy.” Just as quickly, you shut and lock the door, making your way back over to him. Poor Kunikida was sitting there stressing. He was excited, sure, but god he was nervous as hell.

He had no idea what was in store, even though he was the one who came here with intentions. To be honest, he was a bit embarrassed to think you’d be the one taking the lead. Not that he’d object, he just assumed he should be the one calling all the shots, knowing this was his idea in the first place.

You kiss him with no warning, assuming that would calm him down, even though it definitely did the opposite. Kunikida isn’t one to ignore your efforts, though. He kisses back desperately, growing eager from tasting your lips again. You loved how he kept trying to take control, impatiently pulling you back onto his lap. A tiny gasp gets caught in his mouth when you feel his bulge beneath you. He was harder than you thought he’d be at this point, and feeling it right against your sex only flooded your stomach with butterflies.

It was dark the first time you were exposed to it. Knowing you’d be seeing it again in perfect light made you antsy. You knew it was big, you remember how it felt in your hand, and the way it throbbed in your mouth. To say you were excited to see it again would be an understatement.

You separate from Kunikida’s needy kiss to remove your shirt, biting your lip when you see his eyes fall to your chest. They linger there a moment, admirably.

“Undress me.” you whisper, taking hold of his wrists to drag his hands across your now bare stomach.

He licks his lips, bringing his attention to your eyes as his palms trail up your back. The eye contact made you blush. It was so intimate you barely realize he had already unclasped your bra and begun slipping it off your shoulders. It falls to the floor, leaving you bare on his lap. You felt a bit uneasy from being so exposed, instinctively turning your head. Kunikida places a kiss on your chest, trailing said kisses along your collarbones up to your jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” he whispers, still littering kisses on your neck.

He appeared to be getting more comfortable, no longer waiting for your guidance and making his own moves. You drape your arms around his neck, trying to bring yourself closer to him while he boldly starts to bruise your skin. It shocked you how worked up you had gotten, and how quickly it seemed to happen. You could feel the tiny wet patch on your panties, bucking your hips forward just a bit to create friction. Kunikida holds onto you, muffling your soft whimper with a kiss.

Your confidence kept faltering, rising and falling in intensity every time he didn’t do something bashfully. You couldn’t blame him for being hesitant in the beginning, still, it excited you to have him in control, even if only for a little. Lost in the trance that was his kiss, you don’t even bat an eye when he swiftly flips you onto your back.

It impressed you, definitely, but you were too focused on his tongue exploring your mouth to be taken aback by it. Kunikida stands at the edge of the bed and quickly removes his shirt. His cheeks remain a bright red as he locks his lips onto your nipple. You moan, arching your back into him. His name falls from your lips sweetly, the sound going straight to his cock, which strains beneath his slacks.

Kunikida stares up at you with a glimmer in his eyes. The sight of him suckling your breast was one you didn’t expect would get you so riled up. He makes sure to give each of your puffy nipples attention before kissing down your stomach.

Things escalated surprisingly fast, you fully expected him to be a nervous wreck, to be too anxious to do anything on his own. It’s not that you had no faith in him, you just remember the way he was last night. Maybe things were different now, knowing you weren’t at risk of getting caught this time.

Kunikida suddenly stops right below your belly button, reluctantly tracing the waistband of your shorts.

“Is this okay? I-I can stop if you want me to.” he mumbles.

You sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows. “N-no, it’s okay. Please keep going…”

Intently, you watch him slide your shorts down, kneeling between your legs as he discards them to the floor. He sets one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing your knee, up your inner thigh. Your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest, your excitement difficult to contain.

Kunikida pauses when he reaches your panties, giving you a stare that you were surprised to see. You thought he’d be nervous and blushing crazy, yet he wasn’t. His cheeks couldn’t have been a darker crimson, but his eyes were dark. Lustful, even.

“May I?” he asks, his breath brushing against your heat.

You nod, chewing your lip in anticipation. Kunikida smiles, removing his glasses and setting them on the desk by your bed. The man was gorgeous, you thought so even before he took them off. But to see his eyes unframed was somehow a whole new look that gave you an entirely new feeling.

He situates himself between your legs again, leaving kisses on your stomach as he tugs your panties off. Kunikida stares at you in awe, parting your thighs farther apart to get a better look at you. He hums, grabbing under your knees and pushing your legs up.

“Tell me what feels good. Teach me how to please you.” he says, lowering his head but keeping his eyes on you.

Tenderly, Kunikida’s lips press against your clit. His tongue darts out, curling around your hardened nub. You gasp, lacing your fingers through his hair and attempting to close your legs but failing. Both his hands were gripping your thighs, holding them open to give him access to what he wanted. He smirks against your sex, flattening his tongue against your folds.

“Do you like that?” he murmurs.

Your back arches when he does it again, “Y-yes.”

Kunikida grins, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it softly. The man had your entire body feeling hot. For his first time, he wasn’t too bad. He was taking things slow, paying attention to the way you’d gasp and whine in response to his actions. You couldn’t help but buck your hips a little, pushing his head into you so he’d quicken his pace. He catches the hint almost immediately, lapping at your slick faster with a moan.

This moment was everything he could’ve imagined it to be. It wasn’t often that Kunikida ever had lewd thoughts, he tried to ignore their intrusiveness, actually. Yet, when it came to you, especially after last night, he couldn’t get them out of his mind. It was only a few hours since you saw each other last, still, pleasuring you was all he thought about in that time you spent apart.

“Just like that, Kida~” you moan, giving his hair a tug.

Kunikida was relishing your taste, moaning as he runs his tongue all over your sensitive pussy. You struggle to sit still for him, squirming and whining while he eats you out. It amazed you how good it felt, knowing he’s never done this before. Kunikida must’ve been a fast learner, picking up on every little move he needed to make to ensure you’d feel good.

Your breaths grow heavier, your orgasm nearing. You didn’t want to finish so soon but he had you feeling so much more sensitive than usual. With a gentle tug, you pull his hair, non-verbally telling him to stop. He does, lifting his head concerned.

“Does it not feel good?” he asks genuinely, licking his lips clean.

“I-it does, I’m just… I’m getting close…” Your words escape you quietly, like you were embarrassed.

Kunikida cocks an eyebrow, releasing his hold on your legs so you can sit up straight. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It is, but… I don’t know, I just, want this to last longer…” you murmur, turning your head from him.

He chuckles, bringing himself up just enough to kiss your cheek. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Kunikida keeps his face close to yours, kissing you when you finally look at him. He was so kind, so considerate. It made you feel things you’ve never felt with anyone. No one’s ever treated you this sweetly before, it made your heart flutter. Kissing him now only added to the feeling. You could taste yourself on his lips, the subtle flavor making you moan.

He needily leans in after you as you briefly separate from the kiss to speak, “Touch me, Kunikida. Please.”

Kunikida bites his lip, setting his hands on your thighs. He kisses you once more, groaning into your mouth. His calloused palms drag up your legs, across your inner thighs. He opens your legs, pushing you down on the bed. He hovers you now, kissing along your jaw down to your neck. You feel his fingers sneak towards your heat, gently brushing your clit and running through your folds.

Kunikida was quite confident now, nonchalantly taking advantage of the fact that you were sensitive. He was fixated on your neck, nipping at your skin while his fingers toyed with your wetness. You lie there letting him do as he pleased, doing nothing but mewling from his touch.

Your hips rut up into his hand, and you moan a quiet “please” in hopes that he’d stop teasing. He wasn’t teasing you on purpose, but you had become impatient. Kunikida kisses your temple, pushing a finger into your warm cunt with ease.

“F-fuck, one more, p-please.” you whine.

Kunikida does as he’s told, slipping another finger past your slit before curling them both. Your back arches and you whimper his name, gripping the sheets beneath you. Slowly, he starts pumping them in and out of your tight hole, causing your entire body to quiver under his. It didn’t matter how many times you did it yourself, it would never feel as good as this. Having someone else touch you this way, after quite some time of no intimacy, was indescribably sensational.

“S-so good Kida. Fuck, don’t stop.”

“You sound so pretty moaning for me like that.” he coos, starting to finger you faster.

Swears continue to blend with your moans, your cunt clenching around his digits every time they’d slide back in. Kunikida was honestly surprised he hadn’t cum in his pants yet with how turned on he was. To know he was the reason you were feeling so good was a huge boost to his ego. Hearing such sweet sounds come out of your mouth because of something he was doing had his cock aching in his briefs.

He latches onto one of your breasts, pumping his slender fingers quicker than before. At this point, you weren’t even concerned about holding off any longer. Your stomach had gotten tight minutes ago and you were nearly torturing yourself by denying yourself the release.

“M’gonna cum, m’gonna cum~!!” you warn, writhing beneath the blonde.

Kunikida smirks, removing his fingers and running them along the length of your pussy. You whine at the absence of feeling full, grabbing his wrist.

“P-please Kunikida… I was so close…”

Without saying anything, he kisses you, rubbing small slow circles into your swollen clit. You whine, arching your back and moaning into his kiss. He smiles against your lips, feeling the confidence from pleasuring you wash over him. Your hips buck up, chasing that high that was so close you could taste it, but he pulls away before you’re able to reach it. He suddenly appeared withdrawn, as if his focus had been shifted.

“I-is everything alright?” you ask, worried that he may want to stop.

He nods, giving you a quick reassuring peck.

“I wanted to ask you something…”

Kunikida steps back, briefly glancing at his fingers which glisten with your essence. His cheeks burn red, eyes falling from your concerned stare while his mind races. He wondered what you’d say if he asked what he wanted, wondered if that was something you’d want too. There was no point standing around like he was, it’d just waste time.

With a deep breath, he makes eye contact with you, pursing his lips.

“I wanted to ask if you would like to take this a step further…” he pauses, “But, of course, we can stop if you’d prefer to.”

The fact that he even bothered to ask had you struggling to hide your smile. You sit up, letting your eyes not-so-nonchalantly scan his body. They immediately fall to the tent in his slacks, noticing how tight his pants looked due to the bulge beneath them. With a tiny grin, you offer him your hand, gesturing for him to come closer. He takes it, nibbling on his lower lip anxiously.

“I would love to continue this, Kunikida.” you say, tugging him towards you.

He stands between your legs, respectfully keeping his eyes above your shoulders. His fingers fidget with yours, his nerves starting to get to him again. Gently, you caress his hips, dragging your palms down his sides until your fingers catch his belt loops.

“We’ll take it slow, okay?” you reassure.

This was new territory for him, it was expected that he’d be nervous moving forward. You start to mess with his belt, unbuckling it then undoing his pants, letting them fall to his ankles. Kunikida stands there unsure of what to do, willingly letting you take control but still wondering if he should be doing something. His thoughts are immediately shifted when you grope him, a choked moan escaping him.

You giggle at his sensitivity, giving him another soft squeeze just to hear him moan. Your fingers dip into the waistband of his briefs, tugging them to the floor. His erection springs free, twitching when it touches the cold air.

There was pre dribbling from his slit, the sight making your mouth water. Just seeing him hard in front of you reminded you of last night — the way he filled your throat, the way he tasted, the way all of those things combined gave you something to fantasize about when he went home.

The pad of your thumb swipes across his tip delicately, the action making the blonde gasp. Kunikida stares down at you with blown out pupils, watching as your hand wraps around his length, languidly stroking him.

“Y/n,” he breathes, bucking his hips forward just enough to indicate he was getting impatient.

You spit on his cock, pumping him a little faster. He throws his head back, moaning your name again. You could feel him throbbing under your touch, your own arousal aching simply from feeling the way he was as well.

Your pace slows once more just to tease him, and he impulsively takes hold of your wrist, stopping you entirely.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, worried he might’ve changed his mind about all this.

“I want you,” he says with sincerity in his eyes.

A smile creeps onto your face and you rise to your feet. You kiss him tenderly, nibbling his lower lip just to drive him crazy, before quickly rummaging through your bedside table. Kunikida patiently sits on your bed, shamelessly staring at your naked body before diverting his attention when you finally turn around.

Eagerly, you open the condom you grabbed, kindly putting it on for him just as an excuse to touch him. You lube him up really quick then straddle his lap, locking lips with him almost immediately. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer to feel some type of friction.

“Mm, lie down for me,” you whisper against his lips.

He does as he’s told, and as soon as his back hits the mattress, you’re lining him up at your entrance. You both suck in a breath when his tip slips in. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, pausing when every inch is buried.

“A-are you okay?” Kunikida asks, already blissed out but trying to check in through the fuzziness.

“Mhm,” you nod, “Y-you’re a little bigger than I expected…”

It’s not like this was the first time you saw it — you already knew he was above average with everything that’s happened prior to this — but actually having him inside you was a bit of a wake up call.

His thumbs rub circles into your waist, non-verbally letting you know to take as long as you need. In all honesty, he didn’t mind having you sit here. Kunikida worried that he’d finish too soon if you started moving, though the action of you doing so didn’t give him any more time to think about it.

Your palms rest flat against his chest, thighs framing his body as you roll your hips. He sucks in a shaky breath, squeezing your waist in attempts to hold himself together. You do him no favors though, beginning to bounce on top of him with a whimper.

Kunikida shuts his eyes, groaning in response to your movements. He’s never felt anything like this before. He thought having your mouth on him last night was overwhelming, this was an entirely new experience. The way your body moved against his had his head spinning. He could feel the way your cunt convulsed around him, seeing the way your body shivered on top of his because of him. It did wonders for his ego, giving back some of his confidence. He mutters out some praise, pressing his fingers into your waist to push you down.

“K-Kunikida,” you whine, “s’good- fuck.”

You bounce a little faster, fighting through his tight grasp to move how you wanted. He squirms beneath you, growing restless.

“Mmm, switch- switch with me,” he rasps, “Please.”

As quick as possible, you get off of him, lying on your back. Just as quickly, he readjusts, slipping back into your warmth with ease. You both moan, satisfied to be so close again. You hook your legs around his waist and he grabs your hands, entwining his fingers with yours to pin them above your head. The position changes ever so slightly and you can feel him much deeper. Your back arches, a little yelp escaping you.

Kunikida leans down to kiss your neck, grunting in your ear. His thrusts were shockingly steady for a first-timer, each one a bit rougher than the last. You thought he’d be more easy-going, yet again, you had the man extremely worked up it was no surprise he was eager. His thrusts were desperate, hips stuttering each time his cock dragged along your gummy walls.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he says in one breath, squeezing your hands and pressing his forehead to yours, “‘M’getting close.”

Having him grunt and pant above you triggered that familiar feeling in your tummy. The intimacy of holding hands, having his face so close to yours, hearing such deep moans ringing in your ears — every little thing made you swoon.

“M-me too,” you mewl, your words barely coming out due to the moan you let out instead.

Kunikida finally seems to lose it, bucking his hips fervently. He sighs, cursing under breath. Your body trembles under him, legs squeezing his form to bring him closer as if he wasn’t already glued to you. Having your hands pinned prevented you from touching him — keeping you from feeling his hot skin against your palms or his silky hair between your fingers. You enjoyed it though, the restraint turned you on somehow.

You’re incapable of keeping still, arching your back or attempting to rut your hips up as your orgasm inches closer. All it took to send you over was hearing Kunikida tell you he was at the edge too.

“Shit, I- m’cumming, fuck-” he grunts, stopping in place as his orgasm rips through him.

You feel his hot cum pooling inside you and into the condom, the feeling making you moan out his name as you release around him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he pants, letting go of your hands to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re both riding out your highs, chests heaving and hearts beating rapidly. Tiredly, you drape your arms over his shoulders, holding him close.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you chuckle, worn, “You wore a condom for a reason.”

You can’t see the blush that appears on his face but you know it’s there. Embarrassed, he kisses your neck, pulling out to lie beside you. He takes the condom off his softening erection and ties it closed, tossing it into the trash beside your bed. You sigh unanimously, grinning like idiots as today’s event starts to settle in.

“You were really good, y’know,” you turn to look at him, flushed.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.

The two of you fall silent, basking in the afterglow. When your breaths finally steady, you move over, shifting to rest your head on Kunikida’s chest. He freezes, taken aback by the suddenness of it.

“I really like you Kunikida,” you mumble, tracing circles on his skin, “I regret not telling you sooner.”

“I like you too,” he responds, gently placing a hand on your head.

You smile, happy with the way things played out. You’ve always had a feeling he had a crush on you, though it was nice to hear him actually say it. What this meant for you both should’ve been obvious, though you’d take things slow from here.

You obviously wanted to be with each other, to put a label on this spontaneous relationship you fell into. Still, you’d enjoy this moment before anything, quietly appreciating the comfortable silence and leaving the discussion of your relationship for another time.

taglist! [ @leviamere @thepyroarchon @yuuotosaka3 @alice0blog @sev0-0 @soaringmirror @snake-titan @jolynesstepmom @your-fave-jewish-magical-girl ]

#~ young & in love collab #[📩] requests #[ one shots ]#bungo stray dogs #bsd #doppo kunikida #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #kunikida x reader

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angelasscribbles · 1 year

Text

Savage Love Chapter 26: Squid Whiskey

Series: Savage Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: R

Warnings: Mature themes

Song Inspirations: I Want You to Want Me by Cheap Trick and Don't Stop Believing by Journey.

Huge shout out too @nestledonthaveone for pushing me to write a fic with Drake as a drummer since forever lol, sending me song ideas and picture inspirations forever.

Word Count: 3,329

My other stuff: Master List.

We had the answers we’d gone to Auvernall to get. All of the ones that existed anyway. I was anxious to get back to Cordonia, to follow up on the missing Rys sibling, to get back to taking down the Via Imperii, and to get back to doing what, and who, I wanted when I wanted.

But a promise was a promise. We had one charity variety show to save first.

I spent the day with Liv and Savannah sightseeing and having lunch followed by an afternoon at the spa.

Since I was stuck in Auvernall for an extra day with nothing productive to do anyway, might as well enjoy it.

We were well into the middle of a pedicure when Savannah decided to give me the third degree. I was trapped in that chair, and she knew it.

“I like you, Riley.” The words were nice, but her tone conveyed something different.

“Okay…”

Olivia’s head snapped toward us with interest.

“I’ve never seen my brother like this over a woman before. He’s in deep.” It sounded like an accusation.

“I like your brother, Sav. A lot.” I responded carefully.

“It sure seemed that way at the bar the other night.” She agreed.

I waited. There was obviously something else.

“But am I wrong that there is a strong vibe between you and Liam?”

And there it was.

I arched an eyebrow at her, “Are you asking me what my intentions are with your brother?”

Olivia cackled. I could see where the thought of Drake needing protection from a woman was amusing. From what I’d heard from others, and even from himself, it was generally the other way around.

But I couldn’t deny that this was different. His heart was involved. I could tell.

I could tell.

And wasn’t that the crux of the problem right there? I knew him. I knew him on a deeper level than I had ever anticipated, or wanted, or intended.

Liam too.

Shit.

Savannah didn’t flinch at Liv’s laughter. She returned my gaze with the same steadiness I’d seen a million times in Drake. “Yes, I am.”

I sighed.

Fuck my life.

“Drake and Liam are both grown-ass men, Sav,” Olivia said, “Why don’t you let the three of them work that out?”

“Thank you,” I told Olivia, then to Savannah, “But I understand the sibling protectiveness. I had to talk Drake down off a ledge yesterday over Bertrand. What’s up with that?”

Savannah flushed, “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now. I think it’s getting serious.”

“Really?” Olivia asked doubtfully.

“Yes!” Savannah tossed her hair back as she spat, “Just because I’m not from the nobility-“

“Oh, good lord, Sav, it’s not that!” Olivia scoffed, “I was wondering what you see in him! He’s a bit of a stick in the mud, don’t you think?”

“What?” Savannah seemed genuinely surprised, “He has an amazing, dry sense of humor and he’s so smart, he knows so many things! He’s like a walking trivia game! And you should see him without his shirt!”

“Oh, no, thanks!” Olivia laughed, “I’ll have to take your word for it!”

Savannah was suitably distracted for the time being. I owed Liv one.

But just wait until Drake’s sister found out I was also a suitor for Leo. She was going to lose her mind. She might try to stab me. I made a mental note to watch my back around her.

I picked a shimmery gold dress for the variety show. It had a cowl neck and spaghetti straps that crisscrossed over my back. It hugged the curve of my ass and the skirt stopped midway to my knees. No bra and no panties because damn if I was ruining it with panty lines. A pair of glittery metallic stilettos completed the look.

The event in question was a thousand dollar a plate dinner and variety show. There was a comedian, a magician, clog dancers, and several other acts before the finale. Squid Whiskey was performing last, a four-song set. They had been rehearsing for two days.

Sav, Liv, and I would stay backstage, the dresses were for the afterparty.

Max had insisted we go.

We met the guys in the green room, where a table full of food had been set up for the performers and staff.

I already knew I looked good; the mirror had told me that and the turned heads as we made our way through the building were satisfying but the real payoff happened in the green room.

Drake saw me first. Our eyes met as I went through the door. He had been laughing at something one of the guys had said as his head turned toward me. His body froze as his eyes slid down my body and back up.

“You okay there?” Leo slapped him on the back and Drake fumbled the food that had been halfway to his mouth, dropping it onto the floor.

Drake still hadn’t spoken, and I was definitely feeling myself when Liam’s voice got my attention, “Riley!”

I turned my guaranteed to knock the socks off of them smile on him.

Listen. Don’t judge me. These two had been mercilessly tormenting me for days. Maybe not on purpose. But still.

Revenge is sweet. So very, very sweet.

Liam literally tripped over his own two feet as he made his way across the room to me, “You….look….amazing! I mean… you always do! But that dress….”

I felt things low in my body tighten as he took my hand in his and kissed it.

Heat flared everywhere our skin touched and his lips left tiny pools of lava on my flesh.

I glanced over at Drake who shook his head as if to knock cobwebs out of it and then walked away while Leo was in the middle of saying something to him.

“Really, man?” Leo asked, throwing his hands out in front of him.

Liam had me wrapped in a hug when Drake made it to my side, “Hey, Brooks.”

I stepped out of Liam’s embrace and into Drake’s. “Hey yourself, Walker.”

“Damn,” he whispered in my ear as he hugged me, “are you trying to kill me with that dress?”

“Obviously,” I smirked at him as I stepped away.

Leo, Max, and Bertrand had made their way over to greet everyone. Drake didn’t even glower when Bertrand hugged his sister.

“We should move out of the doorway,” I suggested as one of the clog dancers tried to squeeze past us.

Our little group congregated in a corner, eating, drinking, and laughing as the guys regaled us with stories of their college boy band days.

“This must be the origin of your man whore reputation,” Olivia said to Leo.

Drake laughed, “He never went home alone after a gig, I’ll tell you that!”

“I’ll bet you all could say that!” I asserted.

“You would be wrong,” Liam told me, “I was more…discerning than these guys.”

“More lame, you mean!” Max chortled, “Even Bert got more tail than you did!”

“Excuse you,” Bertrand shot his brother a disapproving look, “I don’t think Savannah cares to hear-“

“Oh, yeah, Savannah does!” She put one arm on his shoulder and leaned on him as she pointed with her drink at Max, “Tell me everything!”

Pink rushed across his face as Bertrand gave Max a death glare, “Not if you value your life!”

“What was that?” Max cupped his ear as if listening to someone then walked away, calling over his shoulder, “I think that blond in the corner is calling me! Sorry guys, bye!”

Laughing, I asked Drake, ��What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you get a lot of girls in college?”

“I had my fair share, but not after playing a set,” Drake answered.

“Why not?” I was genuinely curious. Drake was hot as hell, there was no way he wasn’t pursued by all the screaming groupies.

“Well, the lead singer, that’s Liam, and the guitarists, Max and Leo there, they were right up front for all the screaming girls to see. Even Bertrand was visible. I was hidden behind my drum set and soaked in sweat before the whole thing was over.”

“So?” I lifted an eyebrow, “I like you soaked in sweat.”

He stopped with his beer halfway to his mouth, “Damn it, don’t say shit like that right before I have to go out on stage.”

“Why not?”

Leaning over so I only I could hear him, he asked, “Do you want me to have to go out there with a hard-on?”

“I mean maybe…”

“Anyway….” He made a point of shifting his body away from me as he finished his story, “After a set was over, these fuckers would take about five minutes putting their damn guitars in the cases and walk right off the stage into the hordes of horny women. Meanwhile, it took me forty-five minutes to break down my kit and three to four trips to the van to load it all up. By the time I got back, if there were any girls left hanging around, they’d say shit like, oh, you should have been here earlier, you missed the band, they were really good.”

I looked at him skeptically, “Are you telling me that you weren’t able to close the deal with the stragglers?”

The rest of the group howled with laughter as shocked indignation crawled across Drake’s face, “What? No! That’s not what I…. you know what? You have a mean streak, Brooks, a real mean streak.”

“You like my mean streak.” I bumped my body into his.

He laughed as he slid one arm around my shoulders and tipped his drink up with the other, “That I do.”

“Should you be drinking before you perform?” I asked.

“It’s one beer, Brooks.” He shook his head, then he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “You of all people should know that one beer isn’t going to affect my performance.”

“Touché, Captain.”

Anita, the brunette woman from Dr. Boedecker’s office appeared in the green room signaling for Squid Whiskey to get ready. “Come on, I’ll show you to your dressing room!”

“We have to go now,” Drake removed his arm from my body with a good deal of regret.

“You’ll be backstage,” Anita told me, “Roland will show you where to go. You’ll be able to see everything from there.”

The young reddish blonde man we’d met the same day we’d met Anita ushered Sav, Liv, and me to a spot in the wings.

We watched the magician for about twenty minutes then the guys joined us.

Liam was dressed like a freaking rock star with a leather jacket and sunglasses. The guitar slung across his body completed the look.

“Damn.” I made a show of checking him out.

He blushed a little.

Why did that turn me on so much? He was just so goddamn pure.

“Like what you see?” He held his arms out to the side and did a slow turn.

“Yes!” I told him as I applauded, “You’re hot, Liam!”

“Glad you think so.” He moved the guitar around to his backside so he could pull me into his body, “Can I have a kiss for good luck?”

“How could I deny that request?”

I was expecting a quick, and socially appropriate, peck on the cheek. But what I got was pulled into his chest and kissed like he was leaving for war and didn’t know if he’d ever see me again.

I can’t say that I was displeased with that turn of events. It was a toe-curling kiss.

Fuck I needed to get laid. And soon.

My fingers covered my lips as I watched him walk out onto the stage.

“If you’re done drooling all over Liam, can I get in on this action?” Drake’s voice rumbled from behind us.

I spun around to take in his simple Cheap Trick t-shirt and ripped jeans. He looked better than anyone had any right to look in a damn t-shirt and pair of jeans. “Damn, Walker. You’re looking pretty damn good yourself!”

“Nobody looks as good as you though,” he said softly as he ran his fingers through my hair.

His thumb traced down the side of my face and the look he gave me made my stomach do flip flops. His eyes were soft with unspoken emotion as he placed a finger under my chin and tipped my head back.

“There are things I want to say that I just can’t seem to find the words for,” he told me.

Before I could respond, his lips brushed across mine with such tenderness that it took my breath away.

“What was-“

“Hey,” He said with a sudden grin, “I picked the first song. It’s for you!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” He twirled a drumstick in his right hand then turned and damn near skipped out onto the stage.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

I turned toward Savannah in surprise, “What will you be damned about?”

“My brother. He just straight-up watched you kiss Liam and didn’t bat an eye!” She replied.

“Yeah,” Liv supplied, “And then he kissed her too! Damn girl, what kind of spell did you cast on those boys?”

“I have no idea, this is kind of a new thing,” I replied.

“But haven’t you been seeing my brother for a couple of months?” Savannah asked.

“And the thing with Liam, that’s been going on for a while too, hasn’t it?” Liv added.

“That’s not what I meant…. Never mind,” I responded.

The blatantly touching and kissing me in public, in front of each other, that part was new.

If anyone thought I was going to say or do anything to discourage it, they were sorely mistaken. I was not going to complain if both of the ridiculously sexy men that I was currently sleeping with wanted to kiss me back to back. It actually opened up some pretty intriguing possibilities that I was more than willing to explore.

I turned my attention to the stage as the first notes of Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me” filtered backstage.

I couldn’t hide the smile that stretched across my face. It fit his personality perfectly. Drake Walker wasn’t a sappy love song kind of guy.

But it was a love song.

I pushed that thought out of my mind as my foot started tapping along to the rhythm.

I know I’ve said it before, but I’m saying it again. You don’t really appreciate the physicality of drumming until you see it up close and personal.

Drake was right about being hidden behind the drum set. The audience focuses on the guitarists and the singers because that’s whom they see.

But when you do actually see a drummer doing their thing, well, it’s hot as fucking hell is what it is.

I was mesmerized watching him play. From my position in the wings, I could see him clearly, drumsticks flying, muscles rippling, his body a flurry of motion as he played, sweat dripping from the hair that fell across his face. The vibration from the percussion instruments washed through my body, accelerating my heart rate and making me want to dance.

As the song ended he threw a quick glance my way. I gave him two thumbs up and a smile that threatened to reach my ears. He smiled back and tossed a spinning drumstick into the air then caught it again before they moved on to the next song.

They played “Come Together” by the Beatles and “We Will Rock You” by Queen.

My attention darted back and forth between Drake and Liam as they played. Liam, Max, and Leo all had good stage presence, but Liam was the only one of the three that I was interested in.

He was wearing skin-tight leather pants to match the jacket and the way he swayed to the music while strumming the guitar and leaning into the microphone had me ready to pass out.

I suddenly understood why women at concerts throw their panties onto the stage.

In no time at all, they were announcing the final song.

“This last song goes out to the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” Liam said into the microphone as he glanced backstage, “Brooklyn, this one’s for you!”

Olivia elbowed me in the side with a smirk as Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” started.

My stupid, traitorous fucking heart melted.

It was kind of our song.

The one we danced to the night we met. The one his nickname Detroit came from.

He was totally trying to remind me of that night, and it was totally working.

Memories spun through my head.

The first time I saw him….

I glanced up in annoyance then my breath caught in my chest. Holy mother of God this man was gorgeous!

The first time we danced together…

We danced to Don’t Stop Believing by Journey, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close, our hips pressed together as we swayed back and forth. His eyes ran down to my lips and lower then he cleared his throat and pulled me closer. I laid my head on his shoulder and he rested his on top of mine.

The first time we kissed….

I decided to kiss him. On the ferry, under the moonlight, it was romantic as hell, not gonna lie.

The first time I’d taken off my clothes for him…

I swayed my hips and started doing a little strip tease. He froze, leg in the air, one shoe off, one shoe on, mouth hanging open as I peeled the dress off my body.

The awe in his voice afterward….

“That was amazing, you’re amazing! Thank you for the most amazing night of my life!”

And the sadness I’d seen in him that night….

Several emotions slid through his eyes, but his only response was to whisper, “Spend the night? Sleep with me?”

I now knew why he hadn’t been able to tell me who he was. I hadn’t cared at the time, I’d had my own secrets to keep.

The song finished to uproarious applause. The crowd was on their feet.

Olivia and Savannah were jumping up and down and clapping. I joined them in the clapping.

Drake was off the stage first. He just dropped the drumsticks and walked off while Liam and the rest of the guys were waving to the audience.

His shirt was soaked with sweat. His hair was wet with it. He strode off the stage with purpose and made a beeline straight for me.

He took my face in his hands and delivered a crushing kiss. I tried to move closer but he pushed me back as he broke the kiss, “That dress is too nice for me to cover it with my sweat, but believe me, I want to do so much more than kiss you. I’m going to take a shower now. I’ll see you at the after-party and if there’s a God, I’ll have that dress off you by the end of the night.”

I was regretting my choice to forego underwear as I felt a gush of wetness between my legs.

Before I had recovered from that, Liam had me in his arms spinning me around with a laugh. “Woo hoo! I had forgotten how much fun that was!”

I laughed as he sat me back on the ground. Leo and Liv were making out and Savannah was hugging Bertrand.

“Fuck this,” Max said to no one in particular, “I need to get to that after party, see you bitches later!”

“Go, we’ll meet you there!” Liam told him as he slid an arm around me, “I’m going to go shower and change. See you there?”

“Yep.” I agreed.

“What the hell are you going to do?” Olivia asked me once the guys had all disappeared.

“I have no idea,” I answered truthfully, “None at all.”

Lead vocals/rhythm guitar: Liam Rys

Lead guitar/backup vocals: Maxwell Beaumont

Bass guitar/backup vocals: Leo Rys

Keyboard/backup vocals: Bertrand Beaumont

Drums: Drake Walker

#savage love #angelasscribbles #trr au #trr poly #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #drake walker #liam rys #agent riley brooks

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