#so he just resorts to “he NEEDS to break my nose. he Has to give me a Black Eye.”

[800db-cloud]

uhhh.. ermm…

[noosayog]

002 get him back!

✧ wc: 4k

✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.

“Well you dated me didn’t you?!” 

“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly. 

You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile? 

–

“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says. 

“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble. 

“True. But he is an idiot.” 

You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale. 

“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.” 

You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter. 

“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.

“Huh?” 

“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?” 

Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen. 

“Why not?” 

He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it. 

He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you. 

And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl. 

“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently. 

You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in. 

“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.” 

Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps. 

The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating. 

“So, found a guy to take you out?” 

“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have. 

“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.” 

You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this: 

“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases. 

“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both. 

“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?” 

With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation. 

When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim. 

It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant. 

When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child. 

“Now yer turn. What was that about?”

“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!” 

“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”

You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently. 

“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.” 

That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice. 

“‘Samu…” 

“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.” 

It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you. 

–

Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted. 

He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight. 

At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.

And it goes on. 

As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular. 

–

When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter. 

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.” 

He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before. 

Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.” 

“Dude, nice try,” you had said. 

But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night. 

He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break. 

“I’ll walk with ya.” 

“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?” 

He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit. 

Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time. 

You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight. 

As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway. 

“I’m onto ya,” he starts. 

You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.” 

It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.” Your brother is the one playing me.

“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you. 

“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.  

Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face. 

It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself. 

It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had. 

His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway. 

Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone. 

He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs. 

“Why do ya let him get to you like that?” 

You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes. 

“Who?” you mumble. 

But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air. 

“I don’t know… I just…” 

“Are ya still in love with my brother?” 

“No,” you answer honestly. 

Osamu raises his brows. 

“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.” 

“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?” 

“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off. 

He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin. 

“I wanna get him back,” you admit. 

Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.

“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!” 

“Huh?” 

“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-” 

“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.” 

You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation. 

“Osamu…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before. 

But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used. 

His question goes unanswered. 

– 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu. 

It doesn’t make you miss him any less. 

You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around. 

The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.

And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision. 

That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock. 

The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth. 

“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?” 

There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.

“Uh,” you stutter. 

“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-” 

“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say. 

“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”

“Just wait a minute, okay-” 

“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”

“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu. 

You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.

You instantly feel the panic rise in your system. 

“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone. 

Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.” 

Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks. 

You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.

Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act. 

When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory. 

Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do. 

“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-” 

Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out. 

“Hey, ‘Samu!” 

“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face. 

Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope. 

He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy. 

“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you. 

He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly. 

“You just…?” he prompts. 

The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself. 

Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.” 

His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?” 

His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him. 

“Missed you,” you whisper. 

Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you. 

“And I like you so much, Osamu.” 

He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap. 

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?” 

He stops stroking your hair. 

“What, ya don’t like it?” 

You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk. 

He’s teasing, you realize.

You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him. 

You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time. 

“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?” 

You nod shyly. 

“I need to hear it, sweetheart.” 

“I want it.” 

“Alright. C’mere then.” 

You oblige. 

“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck. 

You nod. 

“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?” 

It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle. 

“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?” 

It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.” 

You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth. 

He’s nonchalant when he shrugs. 

“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”

[loganlermanstanaccount]

hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-��

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @tea-earl-grey-thot

[dustofthedailylife]

I always get a little smile imagine Xiao, Zhongli etc with a stubborn s/o who has a cold. S/o will deny being sick and continue their daily chores.

Omg yes! I love this! Also hi, it's me, I'm stubborn s/o. The amount of times my partner had to tell me to go see a doctor already because I refused "because it'll go away soon" sjksjskjs, help.

Sick stubborn Reader headcanons ft. Xiao, Zhongli, Alhaitham,Tighnari (added him because I wanted to practice the little menace) [Pure fluff]

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

→ Xiao would desperately try to get you to rest while you insist to simply keep working. As an adeptus he always has a hard time evaluating how "sick" sick is.

"I'm fine, my nose is just a little blocked, honey. I can handle it!"

He would watch over you the entire day as you blow your nose, cough and sneeze around like a mad person. He'd bring you herbs that could help alleviate the symptoms and would bring you tea and fresh handkerchiefs. He basically circles around you like a hawk, scared that your symptoms might worsen while making sure you have everything you needed.

As soon as he can feel your temperature rising though, prepare to be snatched up bridal style and carried to your bed. And don't even think about getting out of bed again until your feel better.

→ Zhongli would be a bit calmer about you getting sick. Although he doesn't understand why you keep insisting that you're not sick when you're barely able to sleep at night with your coughing fits and the runny nose.

"Do I need anything? Why would I need anything?"

During that time he trusts your assessment that you're still fit enough to go about your day normally but he'd make sure you take enough breaks and are hydrated enough. Prepare to be pampered a bit though. Because even though you wouldn't admit you're sick he'd be extra attentive during that time. Preparing fresh cups of tea throughout the day, giving you spontaneous back massages, or running you a hot bath with medicinal herbs that helped to alleviate the symptoms and unblocked your nose.

→ Alhaitham chooses to ignore it at first. He knows that you're determined and wouldn't let yourself be stopped by a measly cold; because neither would he. No matter how often you'd tell him to take a break when he is sick he wouldn't listen to you either. He's also learned by now that arguing with you is a waste of breath.

It isn't until you sneeze into one of his prized books that he personally carries you to bed and tucks you in.

"I didn't sneeze because I'm sick, the book was just dusty and it got in my nose. Let me down!"

He wouldn't hear any of it. You are going to rest, even if he has to sit next to your bed to make sure you do. The moment you inevitably fall asleep, he'd get some herbs and would imbue them with Dendro so they would take effect faster.

→ Tighnari would insist on telling you that you're sick every chance he gets. Eventually you would listen to him, right? Although your stubbornness knows no bounds and is a force he didn't reckon with.

"Let me help Collei with the Ranger duties. I'm fine. Don't act like I'm dying, my nose is just a bit runny. Must be allergies or something,"

Even when you sit in front of your hut with your head in your hands and burning cheeks due to a fever, you would still insist that you were fine. Last resort? Bribing you. He said he wouldn't allow you to pet his ears or cuddle into his tail anymore until you get to bed and rest. He is sure he has never seen you head inside this fast.

Might turn this into fleshed-out ficlets at some point. I really like the concept, hihi ~

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always appreciated!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Hey, I just read your Derry Girls 'your mum rang me' oliver wood one shot and was wondering if you could do like a weasley reader (maybe percys twin) and do the scene in last series in Derry Girls where erin and james kiss and Michelle is like 'this is incest!'

No problem if can't and sorry if I've spoiled!!! X

We're Not Related

Oliver Wood x Weasley!Reader 0.9k words Warnings: some kissing, potential Derry Girls spoilers Sorry this took so long! I've been in an absolute writing funk that I'm finally coming out of. Thank you for this request, I love getting to steal Derry Girls dialogue! I cackled writing this!

~

Oliver gazed down with a smile. His girlfriend- Merlin, he really got to call her his girlfriend!- was laying on his bed reading a book. The quiet, private time together made faking sick and skipping a trip to Hogsmeade worth it.

A tiny, quiet part of Oliver felt kind of guilty. As much as he tried to deny it, deep down inside he really did consider Percy Weasley a friend. Probably his best friend, oddly enough. The three of them had hung out regularly since their second year, sometimes adding Penelope Clearwater to the mix. So going behind his back and dating his twin sister was…. not something Oliver felt great about. But he wasn’t ready for whatever fallout would follow Percy finding out about them.

Instead, he watched her, her Weasley-red hair splayed out beneath her, his heart full of the affection he’d been carrying for the past three months. As if she could feel the heat of his gaze, she looked up, scrunching her freckled nose.

“You’re staring at me,” she observed with a little hum.

“And?” Oliver replied, his soft smile morphing into a smirk.

She shrugged, putting down her book. “D’you need something?”

Oliver helped her sit up and pulled her close to himself. “Nah, got everything I need right here.”

It was a cheesy line. Incredibly lame. It should have made her roll her eyes. But because it was Oliver Wood who said it, gazing at her with those honey eyes, his arms doing that flexing thing that drove her mad, it actually worked. Before she knew it, she and Oliver were locked in an embrace, lips moving in sync, hands gripping tight to wherever they landed. Just as Oliver was gently pushing her back onto the bed, the door opened-

“Oh, you sick, sick bastards.”

Percy Weasley stood in the doorway, Honeydukes package in his hand, his face even paler than usual as his wide eyes surveyed the scene before him.

His twin sister sat up, fixing her hair. “Listen, Percy-”

“This is incest!” Percy sputtered, absently tossing the chocolates onto his own bed. Chocolates he had bought in hopes that it would cheer up his supposedly sick roommate.

His definitely-not-sick roommate made a face. “No, it’s not.”

Percy nodded. “Yes, it is, Oliver.”

“We’re not related,” Oliver pointed out, gesturing between himself and the girl who should absolutely not be in the boys’ dorm, let alone on Oliver’s bed.

“Oh, and that makes it okay, I suppose?” Percy had never felt this level of disgust and abhorrence, and maybe even a little betrayal.

His sister snorted. “Well, it makes it not incest,” she mumbled.

Percy was pacing the small room at this point, his face now beginning to redden and match his smattering of freckles. “Right. Okay. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that Oliver had a very nasty head injury from last night’s practice, and you-” He pointed to his sister. “-drank a botched batch of Amortentia, which has caused you to think that Wood here is an appropriate snogging partner.”

She huffed, now officially tired of her brother’s nonsense. “This is none of your business, Perce.”

The prefect’s face now matched his tie. “Oh, but it is, troll face.” His resorting to childhood insults was a sure sign of his anger. “It is very much my business. This can’t happen, okay? You two can’t get together because, putting aside the face that it makes me want to hurl, if you get together, you’ll break up, and then where does that leave me, Wood?” His gaze turned to Oliver, begging his roommate to understand. “You might be my best friend, but she’s my sister, and like it or not, I’ll have to stick with her. Don’t put me in that position.”

Oliver jumped off the bed and rushed to Percy’s side, placing a hand gently on the Weasley boy’s shoulder. “I’m your best friend, Weasley?” His honey eyes were wide, full of wonder.

“Of course,” Percy scoffed. “Aren’t I yours?”

For the first time, Oliver said the words every other Gryffindor already knew: “Yeah, you’re my best friend, Percy.”

The two boys stood, smiling at each other, relieved to finally admit their fondness for one another after years of grumbling whenever someone called them anything more than roommates.

The sound of someone clearing their throats brought them out of their tender moment.

“That’s great and all,” Percy’s sister- no, Oliver’s girlfriend- murmured. “But that doesn’t solve Percy’s… issue.”

Oliver’s cheeks reddened. “Right. Right.” He turned back to his best friend. “Listen, Weasley.” He straightened himself up. “I really like your sister. And we’ve been together three months now, and I’d like to keep seeing her. But I also don’t want to keep it secret from you anymore.” He shrugged. “I dunno. If you can’t trust your best friend to treat your sister right, who can ya trust?”

Percy narrowed his eyes a moment, turning over Oliver’s words in his mind. He had a point.

“You know if you hurt her, I know plenty of spells, right? And I’m not exactly going to punish myself for breaking any rules?”

Oliver nodded earnestly. “Yeah, yeah I know.” He gave Percy a small smack on the back. “We’re good then?”

With a sigh, Percy nodded. “We’re good.” He smiled at Oliver, the two of them officially lost in their own world.

Back on the bed, there came a small sigh. “Merlin, I wish we’d just kept this a secret.”

[beskarandblasters]

This Love Came Back to Me

Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Part two for Summer Fling, Don’t Mean a Thing

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Author’s note: Ahhh part two is finally here!! I love these two together and I couldn’t not give them a happy ending!! Sorry it took a while and thank you for being patient with me!

Summary: Summer is coming to an end and you find yourself still thinking of Cassian. After trying to move on with someone else and failing, you walk home and find that everything you’re looking for has come back to you.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, mentions of drinking, angst, mentions of weight loss, reader has hair long enough to be pulled, oral sex (M and F receiving), fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, creampie, super fluffy smut, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, my love), no use of y/n

(I’m fully aware that this is a gif of Cassian and Jyn but this is how I picture your reunion with him😭 As always no/very little physical descriptions are used for the reader)

“You have to get over him, girl.”

“I can’t,” you reply blankly, staring off into space. 

It’s been roughly thirty days since you’ve seen Cassian. You thought by now the heartache would get better but in fact it’s been the complete opposite. Mara crouches down in front of the chair you’re sitting on in the break room and meets your gaze. 

“He left without saying a word. As far as I’m concerned he’s dead to you; to us.”

You feel the tip of your nose tingle like you’re about to cry. You close your eyes to avoid any tears spilling down your cheeks. You feel Mara get up and pat your knee. 

“I have to go back to work now but… you deserve so much better.” 

You hear her walk away and the door closing. And now that you’re completely alone the flood gates open. Tears roll down your face and there’s no sign they’re stopping any time soon. You finish your little episode in the break room as fast as you can before drying your tears and putting on a brave face for the rest of the day. 

-

About a week has passed since your meltdown in the break room. You finally start to feel like you’re on the mend. Before when your eyes would wander between different men at the resort you would feel guilty but not anymore. You’re slowly starting to feel like yourself again.

The busy season for the resort is winding down and summer’s coming to an end. You’re welcoming the changing of seasons for once because summer just reminds you of Cassian. But the resort slowing down also means that you’ll be less busy and have more time for your mind to wander. It’s a double edged sword.

You took a week off of work since it’s been so slow and frankly you needed it. So this afternoon you and Mara, after she gets out of work early, are going out to the resort lounge for your classic girl’s night (really afternoon) out. You meet her at the employee refreshers at the resort, dressed in a simple dress in your favorite color, and head to the lounge. You walk together arm in arm and during the whole walk there from the employee refreshers she’s hyping you up.

“We’re gonna have so much fun, girl! You look hot, too. Trust me, you’ll meet someone new and forget all about that little weasel.”

“I get it, Mara. He’s in the past. I’ll try to look for someone new,” you sigh.

“That’s the spirit! Just try to sound happier than that,” she jokes. 

You reach the lounge and head inside together. And just as you suspected… it’s pretty dead. It’s still early for a night out after all. Most of the tables in the room are empty and there’s small handfuls of people standing at the bar. You go for a table tucked away in the corner but Mara grabs your hand and leads you to one in the center of the room. 

“Oh no, you’re not hiding in the corner,” she says as you sit down. 

“You’re killing me.”

“Come on! We gotta find you someone new.”

“Okay first of all it’s super dead in here and second of all we both know hooking up with a guest went sooo well last time.”

“Exactly, it’s just a hookup; a rebound. No need to get caught up in your feelings again,” she says.

You sigh and she goes to the bar to get you your first round of drinks– revnog. You sit at the table, slouched down in the seat and fiddle with your hands awkwardly, feeling out of place here. You haven’t been to the resort lounge since Cassian was here and just as you suspected being here just reminds you of him. You miss the feeling of him holding you from behind as you sleep, or his head in your lap as you rest on the beach, or his hair tangled in your fingers, or–

Yeah now there’s tears welling up in your eyes again. Shit. You thought you were finally on the path to getting over him. 

You’re jolted upright as you feel a hand on your shoulder. You think it’s Mara and secretly hope it’s Cassian, deep down you know it’s not. You turn your head and you were right, it’s not Cassian. It’s some guy and he does look somewhat familiar but you can’t remember where you know him from.  

“Wasn’t sure if I’d run into you again,” he says with a smirk.

“Do I… know you?”

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t remember me, sweetheart?” he says, sitting in the chair next to you.

You blink a few times and get a good look at this face. He really does look familiar but still you can’t place where you know him from.

“Sal from Alderaan?” he says.

You cock your head to the side and furrow your brows, trying to rack your brain for a Sal from Alderaan. And then it hits you, you had one conversation with him here at the lounge while Mara was talking to someone. One conversation, you really must’ve made an impression on this guy. You could barely remember him though because Cass was sitting at the bar with jealous eyes watching the two of you talk. That tracks though, Cassian permeates all of your recent memories, making you forget about insignificant details like Sal from Alderaan. 

“Oh right,” you say sheepishly, “What brings you back here?”

“Wanted a quick little vacation before the busy season starts at work again.”

“Gotcha. Have you been having a good time so far?” you ask, just trying to be polite.  

“Just got here today but yeah. It’s been a good time.”

“I’m glad,” you reply, a disingenuous smile plastering your face as you eagerly look past his head for Mara, desperate for her to save you already. To your delight she’s on her way back from the bar, drinks in hand, but she spots Sal sitting next to you and shoots you a wink. You glance at her with pleading eyes and hope she’ll get the message but she doesn’t. 

She sets down the drinks at the table and says, “Here’s a round for you two. I’m gonna run to the refresher but I’ll be back. Have fun!” complete with a small wave and a suggestive look on her face. 

You feel a pit form in your stomach. You really don’t want to be here anymore. Any excitement you had for girls night is squashed thanks to Sal and whatever impression you left on him last time you saw him; an interaction you barely even remember. He tries to bring up things from your last conversation and you’re completely lost. How can you make it any clearer to him that you don’t remember him?

“Hey, um, my friend’s been gone for a while. I'm just gonna go check on her, okay?”

“Sure, take your time, sweetheart,” he says, eyeing your form up and down as you rise from your chair. 

You couldn’t get out of there fast enough, practically running to the refreshers to find her. You open the door and she’s in there touching up her makeup. She smiles when she sees you but it melts off her face when she sees the troubled expression you’re wearing. 

“Did something happen?”

“I just… I can’t do this. I know you’re gonna be mad at me but I’m not ready. I’m not ready for someone new.”

She comes over to you and places her hands on your shoulders. 

“It’s okay. I mean it. I just thought seeing someone new would be the best thing for you but it’s okay to not be ready yet. You and Keef shared something special. And it’s hard to let that go.”

“Thanks, Mara… And if it’s okay with you, I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Of course. We’ll always have more girl time to look forward to.”

“Thanks, Mar. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” you say.

“You’ll always have me!” she says, pulling you in for a hug. 

You embrace before pulling away to leave. 

“Take care of yourself, girl,” she says, as you walk out, “And enjoy the rest of your break!” 

“See you later, Mar!” you call over your shoulder. 

You head to the break room to grab your bag with your work clothes and head out, choosing to walk on the sidewalk overlooking the beach as you head home. The sunset emphasizes the ocean’s rippling waves crashing against the shore. There’s not a soul in sight and the whole picture reminds you when Cassian was here; when he told you his real name. 

You’re supposed to be moving on but for tonight you’re letting yourself feel your feelings unapologetically. You walk along the beach and just before you’re supposed to turn and walk towards the city you spot two figures standing facing the water and having a conversation. One of them spots you walking towards them and turns his head towards you. Your heart drops to your stomach and a lump forms in your throat. You feel like you’re dreaming; like everything you’ve wanted is right in front of you. But it’s too good to be true, so you avert your gaze and keep walking away. They’re behind you now and you hear them part ways, followed by your name being called. You freeze, fearing that you’re just going to be disappointed again. Because the truth is you thought that one of the strangers was Cassian. Could it have been him? Maybe. You don’t know where he went that day he left. Or it could just be you searching for his face in a stranger. But he was calling your name just now… could it be him?

You feel a hand grab your shoulder and you’re ready to go into fight or flight mode. You spin around, about to yell in the face of whoever has the audacity to touch you. But instead you find the one person who can touch you. To your disbelief Cassian is in front of you, looking disheveled and exhausted but also completely over the moon to see you. It’s hard to describe how you’re feeling right now. A part of you feels complete. This is all you’ve wanted since the day he left; just to be with him and enjoy his presence once again. But part of you that’s still bitter is angry and wants nothing more to scream at him for leaving you without so much as a goodbye. He sees your face shift from a beaming smile to a frown and he can sense why. 

“Wait! I can explain, I promise!” he says quickly, all while pulling you into a hug. 

And even though a part of you is still bitter, the bitterness is not strong enough to reject his touch. He pulls you into a hug that can only be described as desperate; like you’re going to slip out of his hands like water. 

You pull away reluctantly just to get a better look at his current state. He’s dressed in clean clothes, yes, but you can tell he must’ve been through something. He looks tired, like he maybe even lost some weight. 

“Cass, baby, what happened to you?”

“I don’t even know where to begin. But before I tell you I just wanna reassure you that I never meant to leave,” he says, keeping his arms around your waist. 

“Okay… what happened?”

“The day I left to go to Arkie’s I got accused by some Shoretroopers for anti-Imperial activity. They arrested me and I was sentenced to six years on Narkina 5.”

“Six years?! What do you do??”

“Nothing! I swear. I was just walking to Arkie’s and they thought I looked suspicious.”

“Oh, Cass. I’m so sorry. But how are you here?”

“I broke out. And I’m so sorry but… I have to leave again. My mother died and I have to get back to Ferrix.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to mask your disappointment, “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. So that means… I have one more night with you… if you’ll have me,” he says, interlocking his hands with yours. 

You’re not mad at him anymore now that you know the full picture. But he is leaving again. Do you really want to give yourself to him and deal with the heartbreak again?

…The answer is yes. Because the truth is you’d suffer a thousand more heartbreaks if it meant being with him one more time. 

“Of course, Cass. But where should we go?” you ask, glancing around you. 

The sun is setting and his eyes are lit up in a warm amber glow as he looks around, too. 

“Down on the beach? Just like old times,” he says with a smile. 

You nod and he takes you by the hand, leading you down the steps and to a cabana closer to the water. The two of you lay down with your head resting against his chest as you watch the tail end of the sunset, enjoying each other’s company and waiting for it to get dark. 

“I’m so glad you’re back,” you whispered against him. 

“Me too, my love. I wish I could stay here longer.”

Your stomach swirls at the new nickname but then also sinks at the prospect of him leaving. 

“I came by the resort to get my stuff but I didn’t see you.”

“I’ve been off this week.”

“Oh.”

“I know… I would’ve liked to see you before this; before you have to go again.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to see me again. I would hate myself for what I did, too.”

“You were in prison, Cass.”

“You didn’t know that.”

“How did you break out anyway?”

“I helped start a prison riot. Another inmate who finished his sentence just got sent to another floor and we realized they were never gonna let us out.”

Your head pokes up and you look at him in shock. 

“Cass, that’s terrible! People have to know about this; about what the Empire is doing!”

“Shh, baby, I know. Trust me, after I go to Ferrix that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Can I… come with you?”

“I wish you could but it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, my love. I’m coming back for you.”

You’re not satisfied with his answer but if this really is your only night with him for the foreseeable future then you don’t want to spend it arguing. You nod against him and resign to watching the sky and the water. The sun is completely set and you’re both bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight. You lift your head and look at him under the dim light. Now that it’s dark out you know what you both want. You inch closer to his face and crash your lips into his. His hands find the back of your head and neck, pulling you into him as close as possible. You move to straddle him, never breaking the kiss. The only other sound besides your labored breathing is the sound of the waves crashing against the beach. 

You break the kiss to move yourself down lower on his body, hands tugging at the waistband of his pants. 

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“You said we only have one more night. Gotta fit everything in,” you say, complete with a smirk. 

He doesn’t say anything, he just continues to look at you with a bewildered expression on his face as you free his cock from his pants. You take it in your hand, feeling it already grow hard at your touch. You press kisses all over his groin, everywhere but his cock. You hear him groan and whimper every time your lips draw closer to his cock before moving on elsewhere. 

“Baby, please,” he whines.

“I’m getting there, Cassi,” you tease before wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and bringing your lips to the tip. You swirl your tongue around the head, stroking the shaft of his cock with your hand. His hands move to your hair, tangling themselves in your locks and tugging ever so slightly. Your other hand cups his balls lightly and that’s when you feel him go crazy, completely desperate for more. His grips on your hair tightens and that’s when you take his length in your mouth. You bob your head up and down, keeping one hand at the base of his cock and the other gently holding his balls. You feel himself getting harder and harder in your mouth. His pants and his moans fill up the small cabana and grow desperate the harder you suck his cock. You feel his balls tighten in your hand– he’s at the brink of orgasm. You take as much of him in your mouth that you can fit, feeling the head of his cock brush the back of your throat. Tears well up in your eyes but you power through it, anxious to make him cum. With one last motion of your head, he’s spilling his cum down your throat. He spews out incoherent ramblings that consist of moans, pants, and your name over and over again. You swallow every last drop of his cum, letting him ride out his orgasm before pulling him out of your mouth. You kneel and rest on the back of your heels.

“That was… amazing,” Cassian says, catching his breath and still reeling. 

He puts his cock away and switches spots with you, telling you that it’s your turn now. You lay down and he settles in between your legs, lifting up the skirt of your dress. His warm breath tickles your core, sending a shiver up your spine. 

“I thought about this everyday when I was in prison, my love. Being here in between your thighs is all I wanted.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at his praise. You close your eyes as his tongue laps at your cunt. He licks one long, slow stripe up your entrance. Your body shudders in anticipation of more. He moves his tongue to your clit, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. His finger teases your entrance and he pulls away for a second just to moisten it with his mouth. You feel it slide in, working your walls as he laps at your clit. His tongue and his finger work simultaneously, mirroring each other perfectly in a rhythmic pattern to get you to cum. He pushes a second finger in and you know you’re not going to last. You grind your hips into his face and hand while your hands move to his hair. The muscles in your core contract and release erratically as you cum. He lets you ride out your high, leaving his tongue on your clit and fingers inside your cunt, feeling complete that he’s back where he belongs– in between your legs and making you cum. Your grip on his hair relaxes and the movement of your hips slow before stopping completely, resting after the intense rush of pleasure you just had. He pulls his fingers from you and pulls his cock back out. 

“Stay just like that, sweetheart,” he says, keeping himself propped between your thighs and aligning himself with your entrance. He gathers some of your release on his hand, sending another shiver up your spine, and spreads it onto his cock. He slides into you and hovers over you so his face is by yours, wanting to take in every reaction you have to his cock. You feel him expand your walls with each of his thrusts. It takes a second for you to get acclimated to his size again. You haven’t had anyone since Cassian left. You close your eyes for a second and hold your breath as you get used to the feeling of him being inside you again. And that’s when Cassian brings a hand to your cheek, caresses it softly and says, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You open your eyes to see Cassian’s brown eyes gazing deeply into yours, filled with love and the night sky behind him. He takes your hand in his and pins it above your head, keeping intertwined with yours while he drives his length deeper into you. The tip of his cock brushes against your cervix with each movement of his hips. You know you’re not going to last much longer. 

“I’m gonna cum soon, Cass,” you moan.

“Do it, baby. Let me feel it,” he says softly. 

He brings his lips against yours, kissing you softly as you cum around him. You moan into him as your orgasm over takes you, your walls spasming around his cock that’s still pumping in and out of you. With one final slam of his hips he cums, too, releasing his warm load into you as you keep riding out your high. His own orgasm draws out yours, prolonging it as you fill up with his cum. He pulls out after every last drop has been released inside you and lays down next to you in the cabana, putting his cock back in his pants. 

You rest your head on his chest as you both catch your breath. You’re glad to have him again; to be one with him once more but you know it’s all ending soon. You look up at the night sky above you, gazing at the stars and feeling a pit form in your stomach. He strokes your back and the two of you are silent as the apparent dread is settling in for both of you. 

“I wish I had more time with you,” he says softly. 

“But you could…” you start.

“I have to go, baby,” he says.

“I’m not denying that,” you start, sitting up right, “But please let me come with you.”

“It’s too dangerous. I’ll come back for you, I promise. Nothing can keep me away from you, not even the Empire.”

“I lost you once, Cass. I’m not losing you again,” you say, not budging. 

“You really want to come with me?” he asks, standing and pacing back and forth in front of the cabana.

“More than anything,” you reply, standing up to face him. 

“Okay,” he says, grabbing your hand, “Let’s go.”

To be continued…?

End note: Who doesn't love soft Cassi?? 🥰 Thank you all for reading! 🖤

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[marshmellopie]

YOU THERE

Give me your spamton headcanons! Any kind!

loki i love you so much you don't know how much i've been wanting to share my headcanons oh my GOD [scans over my 20+ page headcanon doc]

putting it under the cut because it's a lot of random stuff, i didn't categorize anything so there might be whiplash between everything:

– Five feet tall, previously 5'10 when he was still an Addison. I made Puppet Spam was 4'5 for the longest time, but I decided to say fuck it and make him taller. Still short in terms of Cyber City residents though, I like to imagine normal Addisons are around 6ft.

– I sometimes forget to draw it and I can't really animate it consistently, but his knuckles are constantly bruised because he keeps punching things whenever he's angry. Experiences really severe temper tantrums/outbursts and usually resorts to violence.

– Do not touch his fucking hair if he doesn’t know you. He’ll legitimately plan your murder if you cut any of it off– and that’s not a hyperbole. He can’t grow it back and his hair is his pride and joy, so he will genuinely track you down and rip your goddamn soul out of your chest. It's also permanently black (besides the grey but that's from stress), he changed his coding when he was famous to have black hair. Could've been reversible, but some things kinda stuck after he fucked himself up and became a doll.

– Weird mixture of Addison and mannequin. Mysteriously fell incredibly ill with a virus that was destroying his coding after his phone went dead silent, and became desperate to the point of converting his remaining data into an inanimate object. Kind of like converting a PDF into a JPEG with the compressed quality and all. Kinda iffy with this one and not really canon-inspired, I swap between him gradually and suddenly turning into a puppet. Used to base it off the Acid Theory but I'm tryna be creative sjfkdsjf he did probably fall in/get pushed a few times but it didn't burn him to the point of no return, it definitely stung though

– Blurry vision in both eyes because he had the audacity to peek into the Shadow Crystal multiple times. Hacked his glasses to somewhat correct it, but it only works to a certain extent.

– Talks through a voice box. He really doesn't need to move his mouth at all to speak and has limited range of motion (he can't close his mouth all the way and has no tongue), but he tries to purely out of habit.

– gayest man in cyber city

– Eats basically anything. From spaghetti-code to cardboard, his body is kind of forced to digest all of it, but it obviously hurts him if it's not supposed to be eaten.

– Sometimes doesn't recognize his own reflection.

– Riddled with viruses for so long that he probably wouldn't ever be able to get rid of them. He could probably minimize them if he got treatment, but only to an extent. They're a permanent part of him now.

– His nose is simultaneously the strongest and weakest part of his body. Either pierces through metal or bends like a bendy straw depending on if you throw him or just lightly poke it.

– Terrifyingly amazing aim. Can throw a pipis at a specific target without much thought. His pipis explode.

– Calmed down a bit as the years went on (because he lost hope LMAO), which isn't saying much considering he's still extremely rabid. Was extremely volatile when he first decided to give up the good life and live in the dumpster. Frequently tried to break into the mansion, probably stole a few cars, mugged a few Plugboys, picked fights with other malware on the streets. He still continues to do these things, of course, but to a lesser degree.

– Spiteful cunt. Wrong him once and he'll never forget your name. Rarely apologizes even if he's in the wrong.

– Can't say names properly unless he's being completely serious.

– Upholds his end of most deals, but words himself carefully so that if what he has to bring to the table isn't up to par with what the other person asked of him (which is 99% of the time), he can easily swindle his way out of it. No refunds on the sword. It's broken? I told you that. Cut anything, two pieces. You heard me clearly, and you obviously had no qualms with it from what I could tell. (Except he'd say that in a really fucked up and more condescending way.)

– Constantly hears static, but it grows and fades depending on his mood.

– Laughs at the most inconvenient times. Someone's threatening him? He'll chuckle. He's nervous? A little giggle. He just received some devastating news? Roaring laughter.

– Very unreliable narrator and storyteller. Tends to exaggerate things that have happened to him (doesn't mean that he didn't go through some wild shit though).

– Doesn't celebrate his birthday, for obvious loneliness and conflicting self-resentment reasons. Also because he doesn't keep track of the time. He don't know what day it is fam.

– Can mimic voices really well, though he still retains that bitcrushed/noisy overlay and the ad pop-ups.

– Tends to chew on things occasionally as a nervous habit. He doesn't exactly have a tongue, so he instead picks up random small items scattered around (ie. a pencil) and chews on them. Worst case scenario he just grinds his teeth together.

– Gestures with his hands a lot when he speaks. It literally looks like he's going through an emote hotbar. Also very expressive when it comes to his face, despite rarely being able to frown properly. You can garner a lot about his mood from his glasses.

– Mostly bark over bite. Tends to make empty threats a lot when he's startled in hopes his loudness will be intimidating, but will indeed bite if he needs to… or wants to. Sometimes there’s no bark at all, and he’ll literally bite.

– Has a weird fascination with shiny objects. He steals many things that seem valuable or visually appealing and hoards them in his shop.

– Once you put the KEYGEN into NEO, it takes a little bit for him to actually take over the body because he's transferring his data onto it. Permanently. Even when he becomes small Spamton again, he's permanently linked to the machine now, so he can change into it at will. Technically not at will because he has trouble controlling it, but you get what I mean.

this was insanely long but thank you for letting me ramble <3

[jiminrings]

478 remix aka yoongi endgame sneak peek :)

“What’s your husband’s name?” he suddenly asks, making you answer just as quickly because you thought he was changing the topic because he was getting uncomfortable.

“Jungkook.”

Yoongi smiles, patting you on the knee. “Jungkook would be there for you when it starts getting scary.”

“I don’t think he would be there for me,” you admit in a scoff, the sudden downpour of what seems to be your insecurities making your head hang to look at your hands. “What would you feel if your husband can’t go to your huge drama’s presscon because he celebrated his anniversary with his ex?”

Yoongi winces now that he’s given the context, making him whistle before downing his shot.

“Yikes.”

You nod in understanding because hearing it doesn’t really sound as pretty, an uneasy chuckle leaving you as you open up further. “We’re kinda going through a rough patch right now.”

“Divorce?”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Just a break from each other for a month. I’ll crash at a friend’s house tonight, wake up early tomorrow to get my stuff while Jungkook’s asleep, then go book a hotel room for a whole month or something.”

“So I can still be your side piece for a month?”

Yoongi’s funny. Too funny that it has you reconsidering for a moment.

Yoongi’s endearingly playful that it makes you laugh heartily, making you forget for a second that you thought you were just gonna come to the club with him to get some drinks and mope. “You’re annoying.”

“You didn’t say no, though.”

He definitely doesn’t have the full picture yet but he’s starting to piece it together. Yoongi will only take what you give and not overreach for any more because he doesn’t want to intrude, yet the question leaves him once again before he gets to think.

“He loves you though, right?”

“I don’t know either,” you mean it surely with your chest. You’ve always been sure of Jungkook but it’s this moment; this one pivotal moment where you needed him but he was unavailable, all for a reason you least expected. There’s guilt that sticks to your throat because you think you’re being irrational and selfish for what you’re about to say next, but you can’t swallow it; you need to spit it out to get rid of it. “I just feel so tired loving him.”

“I get that, I think,” he nods, eyes slowly blinking. “Is this the first time this happened?”

“The presscon for my big break or Jungkook meeting up with his ex?” you joke, looking down at him on your shoulder. You should push him off but truthfully, you don’t have the heart to. “The first that I know of,” you offer, voice dwindling in the realization. “Could’ve done it before. Fuck, he could even do it again.”

“You think Jungkook’s cheating on you with his ex?”

“I don’t really fucking know, Yoongi,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. He’s only speaking the thoughts you can’t begin to enunciate so you can’t even bring yourself to become angry with him, resorting to biting your cheek. 

He’s never been cheated on before but it doesn’t take a genius to know that it would hurt, even just the very concept of it done by your beloved husband. You’ve obviously been through a lot from this day alone that Yoongi’s heart quite literally aches for you, his concern manifesting into an innocent hand on your knee, rubbing circles to calm you.

What he fails to notice is that only thirty feet away from you is a struggling media entertainment intern that’s desperate for his news breakthrough, having half the mind to wander into a club to blow off some tension.

Thirty feet away from you is a desperate, struggling intern who has the newest version for a phone and has zoom on his camera. 

Thirty feet away from you, and perhaps either thirty minutes or thirty days away from you, is a snowball waiting to happen. But you don’t know, and neither does Yoongi.

“Hey Y/N?” Yoongi nudges you with a slightly voice that’s increasing in concern, slowly fixing his posture until he’s sat properly on the booth.

“Hmm?”

“What does Jungkook look like?”

“Big nose and big, big round eyes,” you describe, tilting your head at what other features make him distinct. “On the buffer side. Has a tattoo sleeve.”

“That checks out,” Yoongi nods at you robotically, humming with no tune to it. “Your husband’s here and I think he wants to kill me.”

The sentence alone makes you straighten your posture, whipping your eyes around to see correctly enough, Jungkook marching towards you. He looks broody, the way he walks to you determined not helping your inner thoughts either.

He gets to you even before you could exit to save yourself from the scene he’s unlikely to cause but you’re still willing to avoid, the voice getting caught in your throat when he wastes no greetings.

“You’re drunk. Let’s go home.”

“Yeah, she kinda went crazy on the gin,” Yoongi inserts himself to the conversation, nodding and saying the truth to ease the situation he’s just known of minutes ago.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, snapping before he belatedly gives Yoongi a pointed glare.

“Shut the fuck up. I wasn’t talking to you.”

The sight of your husband is meant to give you comfort but looking at him now, you’re filled with nothing but ire. The same person who drove all this way to pick you up is the same person who skipped your monumental event and moment of need for him because he had plans with Sora.

You’re under the influence of alcohol but it does little to cloud your judgement, the pent-up frustration in your head descending all the way down to your throat and into your chest.

“I’m not going home,” you spit, dodging Jungkook’s hand that begs to gently pick up your hand so he can lead you away from here. “I’m staying the night at Yoongi’s.”

The club’s packed. Overwhelmingly noisy, frustratingly bright and dark at the same time. Jungkook’s always hated this atmosphere but he had braved it just to fetch you and yet here you are — uttering words he had never expected to hear in his lifetime.

Yoongi’s home isn’t his. The address to Min Yoongi’s house isn’t the same one that you have on your driver’s license and your passport that validate your proof of residence. Min Yoongi is not Jeon Jungkook; he is not your husband, the other name on the lease of your apartment, nor your emergency contact.

Your home is with him, not Yoongi.

“You’re not staying the night at his house.”

“You are?”

Both Jungkook and Yoongi speak at the same time, making you look down on the ground. It was only an impulsive thought at the start because it was either live out the entirety of the break in the other room of your apartment or stay with your parents, the wildcard decision being renting out a hotel room even with the threat of your location being leaked.

It’s a huge favor to ask, one you don’t think neither you or Yoongi could fully commit to. It doesn’t matter though, not when you’re filled with so much hatred for Jungkook that you can’t even talk to him without the urge to clench your jaw.

“Didn’t you tell Sora that you were single? Go sleep where you want and perhaps even with who you want,” you grind your teeth, pulling Yoongi up by the elbow. He looks awfully confused and caught between the two of you, but you literally have the upper hand now when he obliges to follow you by himself. “I’m single too.”

.

.

.

wanna read more in the future? this remix (and other exclusive pieces) will only be available in my patreon!! :D

[venusvity]

#19 + but idk what girl 😭

IN WHICH ... She Did Love Him

FEATURING ... SENA KIM + FINN LEE

TRIGGER WARNINGS ... Break Ups </3

"It's not like that–"

"It really feels like it," Finn tells Sena with a defeated look that makes her feel like the worst person in the world. At this moment, she is the worst person in the world.

She doesn't want to stop seeing Finn but she has to stop seeing Finn. Sena knows they can't be friends. They're too deep in to ever just be friends but the thought of never seeing him again makes her heart ache in ways she didn't know were possible. Her gaze avoids his, scattering around the floor.

A silence fills her bedroom that makes her feel like she's going to suffocate but she can't find words to fill it. She resorts to silence, hoping it will speak for her but Finn doesn't speak in silence. Finn can't understand the screams of the void between them. In fact, he doesn't even hear them. He hears nothing.

"If you want to be with Yeojun again that's fine but, like, I just–" Finn shrugs, clearly struggling with words for the first time in his life. That only makes it worse for Sena. Finn is usually well-spoken or at least always has something to say, watching his stutter and stumble for the right word is like a knife twisting in her chest over and over again.

"We can't be friends?" Finn asks brokenly.

Sena looks up at him with a pleading look, crossing her arms with a sigh through her nose. Finn widens his eyes at her, silently pleading for her to say something so he can understand. She swallows thickly to get the lump out of her throat but it's still there. She sighs.

"I can't be your friend, Finn." Finn looks as if she just slapped him across the face. It makes Sena turn from him, putting a hand over her face so he can't see her watery eyes and so that she doesn't have to see his hurt.

"You can't be my friend?" Finn repeats.

"No," Sena answers in a whimper. "I only–"

"Have you ever loved me?"

Sena snaps her head back towards him, looking at him in disbelief. She almost wishes she didn't because seeing Finn's eyes water and jaw tighten is something she wishes she never saw. He's hurting because of her and she hates it. She wipes the tears that fall from her eyes with a deep breath.

"Of course I have," Sena whispers, "That's why I can't be your friend. You'll never just be my friend, Finn."

Finn gives her the saddest smile she's ever seen, putting his hands on her arms gently, and stepping closer to her.

"Then why not me?" He asks, bending down slightly to be face-to-face with her. Sena looks him in the eyes for a moment, sniffling before she looks away with a shake of her head. He wouldn't get it or she'll just sound pathetic trying to explain it out loud.

"I just...I really want it to work with him," Sena concludes, wrapping her hands around his forearm with an equally sad smile. Finn's face doesn't waver but she sees his eyes lose some light in them. She has to look at the ground again, sniffling.

"I do really love you, Finn. I really do," Sena affirms, looking up slowly but he's not looking at her anymore. He's looking down with big wet eyes that shed droplets on her carpet every time he blinks. She moves one hand from his arm to his cheek, running her thumb over his cheekbone.

He doesn't say anything, just stands there and lets her cradle his face for a moment or two, taking it in one last time. His eyes lift back to Sena's face, studying it for what has to be the last time he'll see her this close.

He can't stop himself as he leans in, resting a hand on the side of her neck as their lips gently collide for one last kiss. This is all he needs from her now. No more words or empty promises just one last kiss. Sena lets him kiss her, tilting her head so he can kiss her deeper if he wants to but he makes no move to. Her hands hold tightly onto his waist, squeezing tightly out of habit.

After what feels like hours, Finn pulls away slowly, pressing his forehead against hers with shut eyes. Sena lifts her hand to rest on his cheek but Finn is pulling back from her completely now, sniffling and wiping his wet cheeks as he takes a step away from her.

"Maybe next time," He mumbles as he steps out the door. Sena shuts her eyes tightly when she hears it close, whimpering quietly once it is.

She wants to start over.

[sunlightandsuffering]

I’m glad you liked dark magic Eren haha! I didn’t think it through, nor do I think Magic Mayhem needs it at all! I just had this idea that dark magic works like a drug, seducing you to your desires and sins, making you dependent on it while taking away your free will.

It would be tragic dark sorcerer Eren who left Mikasa for the same reasons you wrote, but he couldn’t live like a cat, so he resorted to dark magic to recover his body. However the dark keeps creeping onto him more and more, and he finds out quite late that it is also bound to seep through their familiar contract into Mikasa, corrupting her too. So he needs to go back to break the contract before that happens (he can’t undo his spell alone to return to a cat). But the dark is also telling him to come back to her, whispering to him that “you want her, you deserve her” and Eren gives in.

Eren’s will is immense, much much bigger than the dark would’ve imagined, so he acts naturally at first without giving any sings, but since it’s been a year Mikasa begins to feel the effect of the darkness and she’s like “Eren, something is wrong, I can’t feel it, I don’t know what it is”. But instead of corrupting her, the dark magic is draining her life or something.

Eren doesn’t want to admit he used dark magic because it is horrible, something very few could even dream of using because of the risks and the evil rituals. But the darkness eventually begins to appear in Eren more and more. His nose is bleeding, he needs to resort to it whenever he needs to use magic now, and his temperament is becoming more and more cruel and aggressive. When Eren meets Colt and they fight about Mikasa, Eren tries to blast him through smithereens with what is undoubtedly a dark curse, and Mikasa is horrified, so he admits what he has done. (If the dark tries to compel Eren to attack Mikasa or something he’s like NO!! and resists it fully).

Anyway they find a way to solve it with a true love’s kiss or something and everything ends fine and everyone is happy!!

OMG HELP I LOVE IT! An amazing plot truly, better than my ridiculous shenanigans 😂😂 I love it anon! It honestly reminds me of like dark sorcerer Hogwarts dramione vibes like good sorcerer vs bad and the power is seducing him but he’s trying his best to get over it bc he loves her! UGH!!! I want to write enemies to lovers sorcerers now!

[theretirementstory]

Bonjour tout le monde, it is 14c, mainly cloudy but at least I can see the colline, yesterday morning it was shrouded in mist!

I managed to “top up” the composter, but never got the cuttings from the coleus. I have now removed the final tomato plant from outside, turned the soil in the potager, laid a large piece of cardboard on top, then some plastic mesh (attempts to deter cats using it as their toilet) after that I lifted some of my potted plants onto the mesh, it means they are altogether for the winter and I can keep an eye on them. I need to think of the best place to site the hibiscus and consider buying some fleece to protect it. Still got time to ponder that.

I managed the video call with friends in Bristol, it was not without problems and we had to resort to WhatsApp, but we caught up and that was great.

Browsing through Autumn poetry I came across this one from Robert Louis Stevenson “Autumn Fires” here is an excerpt,

“Sing a song of seasons!

Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

Fires in the fall!

Seeing the word “fall” used to describe autumn surprised me here, but a quick “google” confirmed it is not an “Americanism” but a good old English name for autumn (both of which emigrated to America).

School holidays have started here and in the UK. Here it is a two week break……. I imagine a lot of “artisans” are taking breaks now. I am saying this, as I woke up on Friday morning to a plink plink sound, I knew immediately, water was coming in the dining room ceiling yet again!!! It only happens when the wind is blowing in from the SSW! I rang the man who had “fixed” the problem twice before, his wife said she would tell him at lunchtime! I then rang another guy to come out and give me a quote, he said something along the lines of he would call me ( better not hold my breath). I am thinking that for the foreseeable future I will be living with furniture pulled away from the wall and a bucket having pride of place on my unit!!

Appointments have been made for the next round of tests, plus I managed to get a “bon de transport” for my journey to Nancy. I am still awaiting news on the Carte Vitale front but it has been just over one week since I had my meeting with the lady from CPAM.

I “bit the bullet” and went into Entraide to see about having a lady come to clean for me. Just going to have her a couple of hours a week to see how it goes.

My gorgeous grandchildren…… grandson has had the old runny nose, feeling unwell thing again this week, he hasn’t felt like eating and poor little man has looked so glum! His sister started her school holiday on Thursday evening and apparently she woke up crying because she wanted to go to school! Oh bless her, “The Daddy” said he thought it was because she was not going to see her friends.

I called at the bar yesterday afternoon for a coffee and read Thursday and Fridays papers. The group campaigning about the closure of the cinema in town, held a meeting in a nearby village so as not to antagonise the Mayor of Bar-sur-Aube, I don’t know what good it will do, I imagine while he is in office the dispute will never be resolved.

“The Paralegal” had a break from “visiting duties” but still had jobs to do for the patient. He was unable to visit due to Covid on the wards. He is also hoping for good news, on his current project, over the next few weeks, fingers crossed.

It has been a week of phone calls and text messages, looking out for a birthday gift for a November birthday and thinking about writing Xmas cards……

Oh and maybe you could ponder this too! My local supermarket has only had full fresh milk for well over a fortnight, now where is the semi-skimmed milk? Does anyone know and more importantly does anyone care?

I am going to iron my bedding, bake a cake and then make lunch. The slow cooker recipe book is catching my attention but I won’t be reading it until this afternoon!

Jusqu’à la semaine prochaine

[motownfiction]

tricks

When Will finds out that Lucy spent almost two full years of high school trying to show him that she’d fallen in love with him, he doesn’t believe it. He assumes she’s lying to make him feel better about his decade of puppy-dog eyes.

“No, really,” she says one day, standing in the kitchen at their new apartment in the suburbs. “And I wasn’t subtle. I thought you saw through all my tricks.”

“Tricks?” Will asks. “What kind of tricks?”

“Well, there was the time I invited you to see Tex at the mall.”

“But I was there! I went! I sat through Matt Dillon on a horse!”

“Yeah, but you never stopped to ask if it was a date.”

“Why would I have thought it was a date? Sadie and Sam were there!”

“Sadie and Sam were in on it. Well, Sadie was. I never told Sam. But he’s got a way of knowing everything, anyway.”

Will holds his head in his hands, not sure whether to be embarrassed or not. He remembers that day at the end of July, seven years ago. He remembers paying for Lucy’s overpriced Coke and letting her have all the popcorn because he knew how she felt about popcorn – how she still feels about popcorn. He remembers wishing it was a real date. Come to find out it was supposed to be. He wonders how easy it would be to crawl into a hole and live there forever. He knows it didn’t take that much longer for he and Lucy to really get together, but damn, if only he could have those extra eight months back. That would be something.

“Dammit,” Will mutters. “I never knew.”

“I’ll say,” Lucy says. “What were you thinking when I suggested we share a bucket of popcorn, babe?”

Will shrugs.

“Thought you were just being nice.”

“Have I ever been nice?”

“You are to me.”

Lucy smiles. A real smile, the kind one she’s usually too afraid to give to anyone but Will. Damned if it doesn’t make him feel like the top of the world.

“Fair enough,” she says. “I couldn’t believe you didn’t get the picture. I locked myself in my room and listened to ‘The Sound of Silence’ for hours. Never mind that it’s not a breakup song. Never mind that we hadn’t really broken up. It was the only thing that made sense.”

Will chuckles.

“I used to listen to CCR,” he says. “‘Have You Ever Seen the Rain?’ My go-to every time I thought you were a lost cause for me.”

Lucy grins. He’s told her that story – he knows. Somehow, though, it just feels more special this way. Better to know they shared ill-fitting songs for ill timing.

“And then there was the time I dropped my pen on purpose so you’d pick it up,” she says. “I resorted to that. I didn’t think I’d ever need to stoop that low, but you didn’t make it easy on me, did you?”

“What are you talking about?” Will asks. “I wanted to be your boyfriend! I told you all the time!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you were serious.”

“What part of saying what I meant was confusing to you?”

“The part where I didn’t think anybody should love me.”

Will’s heart breaks a little to hear her say that. He knows she’s been wrestling with it all her life, but every time, it surprises him. He doesn’t know how someone so impressive isn’t impressed with herself, even once in a while. He wraps his arms around her waist, and even after all this time, she has to ease herself into his arms.

“Well, thank God we don’t have to use tricks now, right?” he asks. “We’re married. We know … we know what we’re all about.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy asks. “I use tricks on you all the time.”

Will wrinkles his nose.

“What kind of tricks?”

Out of almost nowhere – almost nowhere – Lucy presses up in her socks and kisses the tip of Will’s nose, leaving a big smudge of red lipstick there. He knows nobody else will ever really know. How funny she is. How silly she is. How wise and yet so much like a child. He knows nobody else will ever really know. But he knows.

And she is his favorite piece of knowledge.

[kentolove]

tsukishima x reader

summary: There is dried blood on his palm. You are yelling at him. He's never been more in love.

You're mad at him.

He should know better than to provoke you, so he stays silent. It's unusual for him, for he spends so much of his time teasing, bickering, and mocking those around him. But for you, he's always known when to shut up and just listen.

“Why don't you ever listen to me?” you cry, and there's a slight strain in your voice. He’s always known you to have a small temper, but it’s never anything big. Just small passing moments when you feel as if the world is against you and you cry into his shoulder (he holds you so tight on those days).

“I promise I’ll listen next time,” Tsukishima responds, moving his free hand to wipe the salty tears that stain your cheek.

You’ve been working on patching up the bruises on his face, so delicately wiping that stinging ointment on his skin.

He had uncharacteristically gotten in a fight less than ten minutes ago, with a man much bigger, stronger, and taller than him. Tsukishima knows when to pick his fights, and he normally resorts to his sharp tongue to do all the fighting, but he just couldn’t stay silent. Not when the large, tall, and buff man was speaking so ill of you.

Degrading you, using such malicious words on such a kind and beautiful soul.

So he fought. With his clenched fist, a pounding punch found a home in the man's face. Tsukishima thinks he managed to break the guy’s nose, for an echoing crack! was heard all throughout the gym.

“I can defend myself,” you sigh, defeated. “I don't need you to fight for me, let alone get a fucking black eye in my name.”

You fall into his chest, nudging your nose into him. “You think I like seeing you like this? And all in my name?”

You wrap your arms around his hunched figure. It’s as if you're trying to protect him, shield him from all the obstacles the world may throw at him.

“You should see the other guy, babe.”

You smack his chest. One, two, three times, till he groans out and cries for you to stop.

“Since when did you get so strong?” he clutches his stomach, “I think you hurt me more than he did.”

You punch his side one more time.

“Don't get smart with me.”

A small chuckle escapes him, and he brings you to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He wants you to know that you don't need to protect him. As long as you're beside him, he’ll be able to conquer all the obstacles the world throws at him.

“I never meant to worry you,” he inhales your scent, and he feels as if all his wounds are gone. The ugly darkening bruise on his face has disappeared, and all the tiny scabs littered around his palms have healed.

“Just wanted to take care of you. And give that fucker a taste of his own medicine.”

You laugh. A nice, hearty, loud laugh, and Tsukishima feels himself smile.

[infinitefandomimagines]

Thin Ice - Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

WARNINGS: mild angst, cursing, arguing, clingy kuroo cause i think he's adorable, hurt/comfort

-

SUMMARY: after an intense fight with kuroo, you resign to the couch for the night. however, kuroo still needs his nightly dose of cuddles and is determined to get them

-

"Whatever Tetsurou, I'm too tired for this anymore. I'm done." The two of you had been arguing into the late night hours about God knows what at this point. So much had regrettably been said in the past hour that you couldn't even tell who was in the wrong anymore. It was just one thing after the other. Your cheeks were damp with the few tears you'd been unable to hold back and your head was pounding like a drum. You were absolutely drained.

Not that Kuroo was fairing much better, dark bags hung under his blood shot and glossy eyes, causing his face to look a little more hollow than it actually was. If anything, he looked even more exhausted than you were.

It was rare to see him like this. Usually he'd cover up his hurt with a quick joke or comment, but his stressful day at work had eroded away at his walls, leaving him completely vulnerable.

"What do you mean done?" He asked, fully preparing for the worst. Was this it? Were you about to leave him? No. You wouldn't, the two of you always worked things out.

"I mean that I'm done with this argument, I can't do this anymore. I'm going to bed, and I suggest you do the same." You started gathering pillows and blankets from the various pieces of furniture in the living room, setting them up on the couch to form a makeshift bed.

"You're not actually sleeping out here are you? Kitten-"

"Don't call me that, not right now! Just leave me alone Kuroo, I don't want to see you until the morning." You sounded a little harsher than you intended to. But your own stubbornness refused you the chance to take it back.

Kuroo let out a scoff, "Oh so I'm Kuroo now? Whatever Y/N, sleep wherever you want, I don't care." He didn't mean that, not in the slightest, but the need to get in the last word had overcome all sense of logic he had left. So with clenched fists and a tense jaw, he stormed out of the living room before you could utter another word. The slamming door of your shared bedroom finally allowing you the privacy to let loose the flood of tears you'd been holding back.

Unfortunately for you, the close proximity of the living room and master bedroom created by the quaint one story house allowed for the muffled sobs of your boyfriend to reach your ears. Your heart hurt at the though of him curled up all alone on the large mattress, but again, you were too headstrong to do anything about it. Everything was so overwhelming that your body ended up giving out. Your eyes falling shut as you hugged a throw pillow close to your chest.

It was around 2:30 a.m. that you were roused from your slumber by the sound of shuffling feet. Sleepily rubbing at your eyes, you looked up to see a large, dark figure looming at the foot of the couch. You nearly jumped ten feet in the air, your heart rate quickening to an unatural pace. The sharp yelp you let out was followed by the figure flicking on a light, revealing that the figure was in fact your, very exhausted looking, boyfriend.

"Woah, Kitten it's just me!" He stretched out his arms in an attempt to calm you.

"Tetsurou what the fuck? You scared the shit out of me!"

He grimaced, mumbling out an apology. That definitely wasn't his intention.

"What do you want?" You asked sharply.

"I couldn't sleep, not without you." His voice is pleading as he looked at you expectingly.

"Well maybe you forgot, but we're not exactly on cuddling terms right now." You weren't even all that upset anymore, most of your sour emotions fading away with the few hours of sleep you'd gotten. Nonetheless, a few traces of bitter hurt and anger still remained. It was the principle, the fight the two of you had was still unresolved, and being woken up so suddenly didn't exactly help much with your current mood. He really expected you to just come to his beck and call because he "couldn't sleep?"

"Can we just forget about it until the morning? Please, I need you." He sounded a little more desperate this time. Now that you thought about it, he seemed on edge and antsy. He kept shifting his weight from side to side, the backs of his heels lifting up as he did so.

"No, Tetsurou, go to bed. I don't feel like being around you right now. Just give me some space and we can talk in the morning." You dramatically slung your blanket over yourself, making it a point to toss over to your other side, turning your back to Kuroo.

There's an annoyed huff, and suddenly your blanket has been rudely ripped from your body. Before you could protest, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you off the couch and over Kuroo's broad shoulder.

"I didn't want it to come to this but you've forced my hand."

"Kuroo Tetsurou put me down!"

"Sorry Kitten, but I need you, so we're doing this the hard way." It seems as though his defense mechanisms have built themselves back up, as this time his voice holds a more teasing tone to it.

Despite your protests, he carries you back to your shared bedroom, gently tossing you onto the queen sized mattress. You're quick to make your next move to escape, but before you could move more than a few inches, Kuroo plops down on top of you. His chest is pressed up against your torso and he's already nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, pinning you down with the full weight of his body.

"Tetsu, get off!" You squirm under him, grabbing at his back. You hadn't even realized that you'd resorted back to calling him by the nickname he loved so much. But he surely did, his chest warmed as the name rolled off your tongue. He took it as a sign that you weren't really as mad as you were letting on to be. The two of you were okay.

His breath tickles your neck as he let's out an exaggerated sigh. His hands move to either side of your head, giving him the leverage to prop himself up just enough to lift his head while maintaining the ability to hold you down with his weight. His face is now centimeters away from your own, his nose brushing against yours as his hot breath fans your face. Did this smooth mother fucker really brush his teeth before he came to talk to you?

"I'll let you get up if you can tell me why we were even fighting." His voice is low and gravely. He knows he's got you by the way your eyes refuse to meet his, and he can't help the smirk that crawls it's way onto his face.

Based on the way he's looking at you, you're expecting him to spew out some teasing comment, but instead he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. It's sweet and innocent, a contrast to his usual eager and cocky displays of affection.

"I'm really sorry, Kitten." He whispers, and you know it's genuine. "And I should have said it earlier instead of storming off. I don't want us to end up like my parents, going to bed angry and never fixing anything."

There it is. That's why he was acting so desperate when he'd come to wake you up. His parent's rocky and loveless relationship imprinted on him at a young age, showing him everything he wanted to avoid in his own relationship. His worst fear was being unable to break the cycle of heartbreak set by his parents, and your unresolved argument scared him.

You couldn't help but feel a little guilty knowing that you were to blame for the pain he went through tonight. You instinctively reached up to cup his face in an attempt to comfort him, the pad of your thumb gently running over his cheek bone. Any anger or bitterness you'd felt had melted away with his heartfelt apology. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for just a second as he let out a relieved sigh.

"I'm sorry too, Tetsu." He let out a soft hum as your hand glides down to the back of his neck, finger tips scratching at his nape and playing with the soft tufts of hair. "We're okay, I promise."

Kuroo's previous smirk had now melted into a soft lopsided smile. Leaning down, he presses another kiss against your lips, this time a little more confident and eager.

"Okay, now can you get your fat ass up so I can breathe?" You mumbled against his lips. The sudden snarky comment has Kuroo putting back up his signature smirk. A deep chuckle reverberating through his chest. "Are you gonna stay?"

You nod silently and that seems to be enough to convince him.

Although you'd made quiet the fuss about it, you actually miss the pressure and warmth provided by his body as he lazily rolls off of you, now laying on his side. But the warm feeling isn't gone for long, because next thing you know Kuroo's arms have already snaked around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. He's got you pressed flush against him, one arm holding your waist while the other tangles itself in your hair. His chin rests comfortably on top of your head, every now and then tilting it downward to press soft kisses to your hair.

It isn't long before his breathing is already starting to even out, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. The feather light circles you're tracing into his back only speed up the process.

"You're lucky I love you," you joke, but you're sure he gets the hidden message in your words. Although, the response you're waiting for never comes. There's no way he's already asleep, he's definitely toying with you.

Your fingers halt their movements on his back. Impatient with waiting for his response, you dig your nails into his back, just hard enough to get his attention.

"Hmm? I was sleeping, did you say something, Kitten?" You don't miss the subtle taunting that laces it's way into his words. Oh, he's definitely toying with you.

"You are on thin ice Kuroo Tetsurou."

With your ear so close to his chest you hear the soft vibrations of his chuckle. "I love you too, Kitten."

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”