#it SHOULD be pretty simple and just me being Smart and Funny right and yet... brain broken. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tootiredmotel · 3 years

Text

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

#gen.fics #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #userjennmish #userdorksinlove #userstarry #tuserari #plantdadcas #offbeattraxx #slipper007 #thisisapaige #lyntracks #deancas #destiel #college au #fic #spn #gen creates

380 notes · View notes

kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead.

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired.

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits.

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights.

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest.

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face.

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry.

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair.

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic?

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly.

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why.

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber.

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God.

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for.

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?”

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place.

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening.

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you.

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look.

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around.

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too.

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing.

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls.

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

184 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Kind like you (JJK x Reader) 💜🔞☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff/romance, smut, angst, comfort, friends to lovers

Warnings: kinda dense Jungkook, JK being a brat, slight Tsundere JK, Koo struggling to sort his shit, kind reader, Crush!Reader, soft smut, praising, groping, kissing, pool sex, aftercare, heart to heart convos, they talk about toys lol,

Summary: Jungkook dearly wants to be kind like you. He wants to be so sweet, and gentle, and soft like you’re with him all the time; yet all he does is tease and pick on you, it seems.

Jungkook isn’t kind.

He likes to portray himself as such, whenever it’s needed, but he’s unable to quite make this characteristic a part of himself truly. It’s not like he’s a bad person, not at all; he’s helpful, caring, and well mannered. But he’s mean, he finds it funny when he gets onto someone else’s nerves. It’s like playing a game for him; and he loves winning. He’s good at it; it’s natural for him.

Then there’s you. You’re even more awkward with strangers than he is (which says a lot), but you’re everything he wants to be. You’re so soft spoken, always seeming to know what exactly to say in any situation. You’re kind, always thinking about everyone around you before you think about yourself, typically asking everyone else’s opinion first before you make up your own. You don’t like it when people fight, you never get possessive over things like he does. It’s even the tiniest things to him that make you seem so goddamn angelic; like that one time he whined about the fact that you got the last pack of butter cookies, immediately taking one for yourself to stuff between those soft looking lips, before shyly giving him the rest of the pack- still almost full. He had taken them without thanking you. He thinks about these moments a lot. He wants to treat you like Jimin does whenever you two interact. He’s so sweet with you, easily complimenting you and making you blush with his words, always playfully holding you close without ever making you uncomfortable. It’s weird to Jungkook how much that pisses him off the most. Whenever he’s alone in a room with you, you look uncomfortable- but when it’s Jimin, or Taehyung, you seem at ease. You joke around, and hug them like it’s second nature, while at the same time, you can’t look him into his eyes at any point of time.

He hates it.

He’s talked to Yoongi about it, after he’s seen you leave his studio one day. He knows you sing, he’s heard your voice, has saved every single cover song you’ve made on his phone to listen to them whenever he needs to just shut off his mind and think about nothing. He wants to do a duet with him, yet he knows he won’t be able to ever publish it because of his position in the industry. It frustrates him, yet he would be happy just singing with you for fun- he doesn’t need to publish it, he doesn’t need anyone else’s opinion on it; but he can’t ask you, it doesn’t matter how hard he tries. He can’t get the words out, even teased you for your voice before.

“You sound like a kid!”

He wants to take it back so desperately, but now, weeks after that comment, it would be weird wouldn’t it? It would just make him look like the fool he knows he is. So now he’s sitting in Yoongis studio, listening to your voice by second hand of you will, having been too unsure to come inside while you were recording. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. “She sounds great, no? Really like the slight tilts she has here..” Yoongi murmurs, placing the visual pointer of his mouse on the spot he’s talking about. He’s right, and Jungkook wants to say that, but he simply shrugs. “You don’t like it?” He asks, and Jungkook again, simply lifts his shoulders.

“Not my style, I guess.”

But Yoongi sees past that attitude as he raises his eyebrow questioningly. “Since when? You sing the same kind of songs all the time too.” He says, and Jungkook just chews on the inside of his lip. “You feeling competition?” Yoongi teasingly asks, and Jungkook scoffs.

“I’ve been trained for years, she’s a simple YouTuber. There’s no reason for me to feel competitive.”

But Yoongi suddenly laughs, burying his face in his hand as he stops the song. “Do you have a crush on her or something? You’re acting weird as hell Jungkook.” He says, and looks at Jungkook, who seems like he doesn’t react- only the tips of his ears grow red, as Yoongi laughs again, breathlessly as usual. “Oh my god you do! Little Jungkookie’s got the hots, I can’t believe it!” He barks out, and Jungkook whines.

“I don’t!” He says. “I absolutely don’t. She’s way too shy, and she’s so girly and all..” he complains, but Yoongi continues to smile. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Topic change then.” He says, and Jungkook nods. “Why were you and Taehyung fighting yesterday? Heard you’ve got him quite bad with a pillow.” He asks, and Jungkook groans.

“You said we’re changing the topic!” He says loudly, and Yoongi seems to have the time of his life.

“I am! How should I know the fight was about her?” He asks, and Jungkook kicks his legs with frustration.

“It wasn’t!” He said, and Yoongi raises his eyebrow, resting his head on his hand.

“Why are you getting so defensive then?” He asks.

“Because he shouldn’t send her a topless picture of him like that.” He says.

“I thought it wasn’t about her?” He chuckles.

“Fuck you.” Jungkook retorts, and it’s where Yoongi draws the line.

“Hey hey, calm down yeah? Didn’t mean to poke too much.” He says, and Jungkook nods, apologizing under his breath. “I thought you didn’t like her?” He asks, and Jungkook shrugs again.

“Never said that. But she’s so awkward around me.” He says, now a bit more defeated.

“Ever tried being nice to her?” Yoongi asks, while he continues working on the track to take some pressure off the maknae.

“I don’t know..!” He whines and throws his head back. “In my mind it’s so easy; go up to her, say hello, maybe tell her she looks nice, done!” He exclaims. “And then I say hello and screw it up by making a joke on her account and boom, congrats, fucked it up again.” Jungkook sighes, and The rapper doesn’t say something for a moment until he responds.

“You’re just not like that, I guess.” He explains to the younger one. “But you could try to tone it down a bit. Some of the things you say are actually quite mean.” He scolds gently, and Jungkook nods.

“I don’t know how to do that though.” He says.

“Wrap your compliments up in you remarks.”

“How?” The younger one asks.

“Well, you can’t say she looks nice, right?” The older one asks, and Jungkook nods. “But you always call her shortie.” Again, a nod. “Tell her she looks like a doll.”

“But isn’t that mean too?” He asks, and Yoongi snaps his fingers.

“It’s one of those comments that makes you think. Is it an insult? A compliment? You don’t have to go all in. Tease her in a way that can be taken positively as well. She’s smart enough to get innuendos like that.” He explains, and Jungkook seems to understand as he nods.

Maybe he’ll try that next time.

The next time you’re visiting them, Jungkook is as ready as he’ll ever be to make things count. As you take off your shoes, and hang up your red jacket, he snickers, as he walks by. “What’s up red riding hood?” He says, and he can hear Jimin chuckle from the couch as you follow him into the living room. “She looks like a Disney character with that bag and the jacket.” He says teasingly, and to his own surprise, he can see the edges of your lips move upwards into a shy smile, because he remembers vividly how you'd once told Jimin how much you liked the old classic disney films instead of the new ones.

It’s working, and it’s making him feel daring. Jimin retorts something along the lines of if he’s the wolf in that case and if he would eat her, and he finds his head suddenly on your shoulder, gently reaching over your now seated form on the couch to steal a dumpling from Jimin as he speaks.

“Nah, I’d only eat the ugly ones.” And this time, you’re actually giggling.

It makes his skin tingle.

And the night goes on like that, his typical picking covered in icing sugar, as he watches you become restless on your spot on the couch across from him. He grows addicted to the view, of that sight of your teeth digging into your lip as you grow giddy under his hidden compliments, and Jimin seems to catch up on it pretty quickly. He watches in fascination, as Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, and Jungkook himself feels a pull on his heart when he states that he's slightly (very) upset that you're leaving so early, even though it's almost one in the morning and he typically never even so much as waves you goodbye whenever you leave.

He doesn't mind the slight bullying from his hyungs after he'd waved after your leaving form before you dissappear from his sight.

Jungkook isn't kind.

He likes to portray himself as such, whenever it’s needed, but he’s unable to quite make this characteristic a part of himself truly. It’s not like he’s a bad person, not at all; it's just that he can't help himself when it comes to you. He's quite the sadist really, always bathing in the slight pout and amusing anger radiating off of you whenever he does something to rile you up. It's just like now; even though he knows you hate it, he loves to take advantage of the difference in height between the two of you. He laughes while holding his bowl of cereal while you struggle on the very tips of your toes in the kitchen, trying to reach the pack of sweet breakfast treats that he had placed way higher than necessary.

But it's when you climb onto the counter that several things happen.

First, it's the unintended panty-shot he gets, his pupils practically zooming in on the soft pink fabric on display for his greedy self, making him feel like a schoolboy that just sneaked a glimpse of a naughty magazine his friend had brought into class. It makes his mind fill with images of you, oh-so sweetly laying underneath his form as he pulls the cotton fabric to the side, ready and wanting as you patiently wait for him to connect your souls and bodies in the most intimate of ways.

The other thing however wipes away those images, as his doe eyes widen. It's the realization that you're wearing pink fuzzy socks, on a marbled kitchen counter, the danger of slipping as high as it can be. He knows you're clumsy, knows you're always attracting trouble wherever you go, and it's the small moment of your knee bending, your foot a breath too far off the counter, as you suddenly loose balance. He practically throws his almost empty bowl on the kitchen table before he reaches you, luckily managing to make you fall ontop of him than the cold kitchen tiles below.

At first, it's awfully quiet- there is no one here other than him and you after all. Then, the pain hits him, drumming like the beat of his favorite song, making him drop his head on the floor with a groan. You immediately move at that, getting off of him as you look for anthing that could be the cause. It's when he holds his hand, red seeping through between his fingers that you move. Grabbing kitchen towels for first aid, you help him as best as you can, as he watches you, pain already not so bad anymore as he looks at your delicate hands working on his larger ones with so much care.

He's ready to use it to his fun, yet he stops himself when he sees the tears on our cheeks. "Why're you crying?" He asks, and you suddenly sob more loudly, sniffling as you continue to try and clean his scrape on the back of his palm with running water. He shuts the water off, his hand not even bleeding that much anyways anymore, as he holds your shoulders, body folding over a bit to properly look at you. "Hey hey, why're you crying? I'm hurt here!" He chuckles, but it doesn't seem to do much good- as you just continue.

He suddenly grows more gentle, the hug a bit awkward at first, the close proximity weird for you both, but once he starts to softly rock you both from side to side, his unhurt hand running over your back before he sloppily wipes your tears off of your face- intentionally messily to make you giggle and push his hands off. "You're such a crybaby!" He laughs, as you hold his hand in yours, looking at it again.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, looking up at him, and he swallows hardly as he suddenly grows uneasy with the closeness of you two.

"No, it's just a scratch." He says, suddenly cleaning up the kitchen table where he spilled some of his leftover cereal and milk- simply using it as something to distract himself to calm down. "Why were you even climbing there at all? That's dangerous as hell." He said. "You could've just asked me to get it for you." He ends, and its the most truthful thing he's ever said to you.

Because that's where his deepest intentions with you were hiding. He's so used to being the youngest, of getting away with so much and getting babied by everyone around him, staff or his members, that he craves to take care of someone instead for once. He wants you to ask him for help. He wants you to hide behind his back when you're terrified of Taehuyungs tickle-attacks, he wants you to loose to him when playing video games, just so he can pull you onto his lap, his hands over yours on the controller to show you how its done. He wants you to proudly tell him of any achievement you manage to make no matter how small, just to gain his praise.

He needs you to need him.

Because whenever he's with you, he knows that those compliments and that pure amazement on your face is not because you want something in return, it's simply what it is. You make him feel so appreciated, so desired, so wanted for himself and not for his outside qualities. Because at the same time he loves how passionate you get whenever you notice that you know something better than him- how excited you get when you explain something to namjoon or to Hobi. He want's you to teach him things too, he want's to know what you can do, what you're better at, not because he want's to get better than you, but because he knows you're so much smarter in so many things than he is.

It's your voice that gets him out of his internal terror.

"Oh.. I didn't want to bother you though." You meekly say, and he wants to groan at this, to throw a fit, to be frustrated with you because that's exactly what you never ever do; you could never bother him to the point where he would refuse to help. No, he wants you to bother him. "I-what?" You say, and he suddenly turns around abruptly.

"What?" He asks, terrified if what he thinks just happened really did.

"You said 'But I want you to bother me'..?" You ask, and he wants to slap himself.

"I- I mean, I meant it in like, you can bother me, it doesn't matter much, you know?" He scrambles out, drying his hands after washing his bowl and leaving it in the sink. He suddenly grows uneasy with you in the room, yet he stills at your next words as if frozen in time.

"Oh.. I-" You start, before you step closer. "Thank you then, Jungkookie. I appreciate it." But its not only that, it's the tiny sentence you say and the action that follows that simply fries his mind. "You're not so bad after all." And you place a small kiss against his cheek.

You kiss his cheek.

Your soft lips touched his skin.

And he stands there for a while longer, not knowing what to do.

Jungkook isn't kind.

But over the course of days where you start to grow more and more comfortable, more daring, and more used to understand his language, he slowly mutates into an overgrown puppy.

He demands your attention, loves the way you blush under his teasing, and craves the way you squirm around whenever he's close to you. He's almost certain he's got a chance with you, making his own creativity thrive under your spell. He takes more photos than ever before, starts to be even more active (after you'd accidentally let it slip that you actually like how strong he is and that it makes you feel safe), and all in all simply falls for you.

But its all gone to waste at a certain dinner with his hyungs, that his food suddenly tastes stale, and his appetite is gone. "I want to confess to her, you know? I think I really got a chance." Jimin says, and Yoongi glances at Jungkook, concerned for the youngest since he knows his secret crush. "I mean she even gets along with the brat here!" He playfully says, playfully hitting Jungkooks shoulder lightly, but he doesn't seem an innocent gesture in it. No, Jungkook is riled up, and suddenly stands at the table, taking his cutlery and dishes to discard them in the sink. "Jungkook?" Jimin asks, confused, but Yoongi shakes his head with a sigh after the youngest simply retreated into his room for an early night.

"Jimin, I don't think that's a good idea." Yoongi says, and Namjoon seems confused. "I don't intend to be rude, but your interest changes weekly. Now it's her, the next week its someone else. Jungkook however-" He calmly explains, ignoring the slightly offended look of the dancer across from him. "You know him. He's never shown interest before- in anyone." Jimin slowly seems to understand, as Taehyung nods at it. "He really likes her. Think about it. Once you take that step, there's no going back. There's no 'lets stay friends if we break up' because that's just awkward. There's no second chance for Jungkook."

Jimin slowly nods, suddenly without much taste for his food as well. "I didn't know, honestly."

"It was kind of hard to see not gonna lie." Hoseok chimes in, putting his chopsticks down as he swallows the last bite of food. "He's all over her recently." He explains, and everyone nods.

This wasn't just a simple crush for him.

This was full blown love.

Jungkook isn't kind.

But he also can't say no to you.

He wants to be mad, he really tried to as well. But it's just- he sees your smile and hears your voice, and he's all in your hands, ready and willing to your very command. That's how he finds himself at your tiny apartment, helping you to put up some of your latest paintings on your walls- because initially you'd asked if he or his hyungs had a ladder in his dorm, but after you'd told him you'd use it to climb up to hang some paintings, he'd instead told you he'd help you instead, just to make sure you wouldn't fall and have an accident or something.

He want's to be mad, because he knows Jimin must've made his move at this point.

You seem so at ease, so happy, your steps so light and almost jumpy he wants to cry internally at how cute you are, for someone that isn't him.

"Ah, yes, that's perfect!" You say, and he slowly steps down from your chair he'd burrowed to boost his height a little, your hands weakly trying to steady him while he finally reaches the floor again. "I've made some cold stew yesterday, do you wanna stay and eat a little?" You ask, and he wants to nod, but doesn't.

"I don't wanna intrude or something." He says, grimply smiling as he brings the chair back into the kitchen area where it came from. He hates how deflated you suddenly look, how almost sad you simply nod as you trail after him like a lost pet, something many would find bothering, yet he loved it. He loved how you were always around him like a little shadow, as if to silently stay close to him. "So, you and uhm.. Jimin?" He asks suddenly, unable to keep the words inside.You blink, once, twice, before tilting your head in question. "He.. hasn't talked to you?" He asked, and you shook your head.

"No, what would he want to talk about with me?" You ask, and a very terrifying thought comes into his mind, like a tiny devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear. He hasn't made his move yet, so if he plays his cards right, he could still steal you from him quick and swift. You'd be his, he knows you're too kind to say no if he confessed, and Jimin would stand no chance. But just like the tiny devil, a tiny angel was there as well. Who was he to interfere with someone else's romantic life? He knew Jimin liked you enough to ask you out, and even though his hyung was never one to stay long, it would be an absolute dick move of him to ruin his chances.

But he loved you.

"Oh, you mean about you and me!" You suddenly said, and Jungkook almost choked on his saliva. "He said something about you liking me, and uh, that I should confess to you even though I know you're not interested in me like that- I'm sorry if he said something weird, it's just a weird crush, I'll get over it-" But he short-circuits, and blurts out what comes to his mind before he can think about it.

"Don't!" He says, a little too loud, and your eyes grow wide. "Don't.. get over it. I-" He's suddenly confused, overwhelmed, and has no idea how to handle this sudden turn of events properly. Should he kiss you now like in the movies or something? But he should also ask if he should, otherwise its without consent, but it would kind of ruin the moment, and oh god why do his hands suddenly get sweaty, thats so gross-

It's the shy and delicate touch to the very tips of his fingers, hand splaid out on the kitchen table that you're touching with yours, cheeks red and eyes down, and he suddenly thinks, 'fuck those movies', as he leans in and kisses you, slowly, just to make sure you're okay with it.

You're so okay with it.

He grows hungry at the movement of your lips, brows furrowing as he lets himself ride this wave of pure euphoria, holding your cheeks so lightly that you barely feel his touch at all. You snake your arms around his head as you tug him down a bit more, and his neck aches, so he simply reaches for your behind to help you up on the kitchen table for better leverage. "You're-" He starts between kisses, and can't help his smile. "-mine." He ends, and you nod with excitement, just as high on happiness as he is. "Can I, like-" He starts, almost frustrated with how he can't stop his lips from chasing yours even if he's the one talking. "-Touch you?" He finally gets out, and again, you nod, even if the tips of your ears grow a bit red at the suggestive question. His hands suddenly wander, over your shoulders down your sides, before they find your thighs. He loves the softness of them, his fingers on your knees as he opens your legs so he can get even closer to you. As if on instinct, your socked feet pull him towards you, and he chuckles at that, finally slipping his tongue between your lips as you push a hand into his dark hair, making him groan. He cups the sides of your breasts at first, delicately feeling them, before he squeezes gently, getting a proper idea of their plushness under his fingers.

He loves them already.

"I don't-" He starts, and is breathless just as you are as he places his kisses on the side of your neck. "I don't wanna fuck you on the kitchen table baby." He finally gets out, and you mewl at that. "Hm?" He asks, but you shake your head, too shy to say anything to that. He suddenly reaches for your behind, lifting you against his chest as he walks around with you, making you and himself laugh as he opens the wrong door before he finally finds your bedroom- cozy and cold due to the open window you always leave so that you can sleep better at night. You sigh at the cool feeling of the sheets underneath your hot body, and he grins down at you as he can't feel anything but pure ecstasy. Suddenly, he laughs, and groans lodly against your chest as he lets his forehead rest against it.

"What?" You ask between a laugh, and he begins to whine.

"I don't have a condom, fuck." He drawls out, and he really feels like an idiot. He's a fully grown man, he should have shit like that with him at all times, especially when he knows he's gonna visit his crush- but its so sudden, so unprepared, that he simply didn't think this would ever happen. He's deflated, painfully hard, and frustrated with himself, as you speak up again.

"Uhm, theres an orange handbag in the bathroom, its like, next to the shower. I think I still have one in there."You say, and he looks up questioningly. "It was a joke-present from a friend, please don't ask." You say, growing shy again as he simply chuckles, before getting up and searching for the bag you mentioned. It's safe to say that he doesn't only find the condom, but also a still fully packaged vibrator toy, in the same bag. His interest is definetely woken, but he decides against using it to tease you this time.

He'd get his chance soon.

But in that moment, as he climbs ontop of the bed again, it's all about you and him- its not about mindblowing sex or unusual experiences. He just wants to be inside you, close to you, he wants to claim you in ways that only lovers can. He's surprised, when he takes off his shirt, that you suddenly hold your arms high.

You're absolutely adorable in his eyes.

He chuckles as he helps you out of your sweater, kissing your nose, your cheeks, your lips, as he unhooks your bra to finally get a skin to skin feel of your breasts. He loves it even more like this, warm and soft under his palms, and you mewl in enjoyment as he continues his antics. He doesn't even notice when you'd discarded your shorts and underwear, his pants gone in a flash as his inked fingers reach between your legs to sloppily prepare you for him.

He knows he's a bit more on the.. bigger side, to say the least, a grower more than a shower, and it used to make him nervous in a weird kind of way. You're so delicate, so sweet, that he doesn't want to hurt you, and hes slow and steady as he finally enters you after putting on his protection. But you take it, you're such a champ, and pull him towards you by his neck as he moves slowly.

He picks up his pace at your demand, lost in euphoria as he lets himself go, lets himself enjoy as his mind is filled with your voice, your sounds, your scent, your everything. This is what he wanted, this is where he wants to stay for the rest of time. Not nescessarly buried withing you (although that's not a bad sound he thinks), but in your embrace, within your presence. He want's to stay at your side forever, keep you close to him so no one can hurt you, not even yourself.

He comes with a whine, an arch of his back, and his fingers on your pearl, desperate to get you over the edge as well.

It works.

And he's happy, exhausted, and absolutely in love as he falls down the mattress at your side.

"I always thought it would be weird." You said after you'd both taken a shower and cleaned up properly. He'd texted his hyungs, telling them with obnoxious emoticons that he's spending the night with his girlfriend, and Jimin plus Yoongi had reacted with a vomiting emoji.

Yet they were happy.

"What would be weird?" Jungkook asks, his hand running up and down your arm as you laid next to him, snuggled up onto his body.

"You know, having sex." You said, and it takes a moment before he suddenly snaps his head to you.

"Wait, that was your first time?!" He exclaimed, utterly shocked at it as he'd been convinced you weren't a virgin. You have had boyfriends before, he knew that, hell, he'd seen them too, and considering you were pretty close agewise he couldn't imagine. He feels bad about it, if he'd known, he would've made it more special, hell he would've asked you more times if you were okay with him taking something so precious from you. Now you could never get it back and he'd fucked it up.

"I mean, kind of?" You explained, suddenly hiding your face. "I mean, I've done, like, stuff with men before.. and I also used a.. you know, 'thing', but like, never the real.." You tried to come up with different names for the things you wanted to say, yet you simply ceased to talk.

Jungkook chuckled. "You used what? A dildo? Like, a fake dick?" He said, and you hit his chest with a whine, utterly mortified by his way of talking. "Come on I saw that vibrator in your bag there, but I never though you were a virgin!" He said, and you whined again.

"Technically I wasn't!"

He scoffed playfully. "Baby your first time was with a toy considering what you just told me, that STILL means you were a virgin!" He argued, and you groaned, trying to get out of his grasp now. "Come on, at least tell me if my dick was better than that rubber-cock?" He asked, and laughed full on at the way you hid your face behind your hands with a yell. "Don't hurt my ego, say it!" He laughs, and tickles your sides.

"Yeah yeah okay, your dick was better stop!" You laugh, and he grins, suddenly pulling you close to him as he hides his face in your hair.

"Oh baby-" He sighes out. "I love you so much."

"And I hate you." You mumble, before he playfully bites your ear.

"Jungkook no, they could see-!" Yet he doesn't let up, uncaring. The hotel they were staying at had a strict privacy policy- at this point his agency could ruin

them with a snap of their fingers just because they leaked a single strand of his hair. He wasn't concerned at all, as he continued to bite and kiss at your neck,

unable to keep his hands to himself as he grows hard.

He loves the high he gets from being in danger of getting caught.

Its silly, in a way, but it feels like a rush of some sorts. It's like he's a teenager again, sneaking in candy even though he's on a diet just to feel bratty, and its not

much different now, even though the scale is another. This was actually dangerous, but since no one else was staying at the hotel, and his hyungs had all gone

to bed, he refused to give in.

He wanted you, and he would take you.

Jungkook never liked sharing, nor giving away what was his when he himself didn't openly give it away. What was his, was his, there was no room for

discussion, even though he'd become a bit more understanding nowadays. Yet he would never let anyone see you like this, so vulnerable and wanting for him,

ready to become his slave to quench his thirst for you at anytime. You loved him just as much as he loved you, and this exchange of feelings always got him

riled up to the point of desperation.

Just like now, as he helps you stay afloat with his forearms underneath your own arms, kissing you silly while he pushes his thigh upwards underwater, feeling

you rut agains it like an animal in heat. He loved how you got whenever he pushed your buttons right, loved the sight, the sound, the entire situation. It ruined

porn for him in a way, modern erotica in no way reaching the level of satisfactory aesthetic that the sight of you could bring him. He'd taken pictures and videos

of you in nude positions and explicit situations to keep him entertained whenever he was far away, because whatever he found online of strangers couldn't bring

him a release worth working for anymore.

So it was utterly welcomed by him, when you had surprisingly told him that you had arranged to share the hotel room with him, and that you were tagging along for two weeks of his tour. Of course, his happiness was mostly simple enjoyment that you were there at his side, that you would sleep right next to him, yet it also was of a more carnal side of himself. And now, while his blood was still hot like lava inside his veins, adrenalin still high from his last concert, he was desperate to let go, end this day in a way he never thought he properly could.

He sloppily pushed the barrier between himself and your core to the side underwater, pulling his length out of his swimtrunks as well, uncaring on making it romantic. He knew he didn't need to always go overboard, he was clingy and touchy enough that you always felt appreciated and loved, even if he was impatient like that. He groaned out, mixed with a chuckle as he suddenly realized what he was doing, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck to bite and leave open mouthed kisses, rhythm just as steady and on-point as onstage just hours ago.

He came quicker than he'd liked, tattooed hand gently pushing you over the edge as well. you whined as he helped you out the pool, utterly mortified but still happy at the way he simply picked you up bridal style, carrying you out and back into your room, ready for a good nights' sleep.

The best he had ever gotten while on tour.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

1K notes · View notes

yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

Text

•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki smut #amajiki tamaki #mha smut #my hero smut #suneater #suneater smut #mha suneater #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha suneater #tamaki x reader #tamaki headcanons #mha tamaki #tentacles #big three #fatgum

818 notes · View notes

theodora3022 · 3 years

Text

Selfish Deeds (Yandere! Gojou Satoru)

Summary: Satoru just wants you to be free of danger. If you are so knowledgeable why can’t you understand that he only wish the best for you?

A/N: This is just one snippet of many out of a collection(haven't decide the name just yet)...Since I have not read the manga(anime-only for now) so I just got a vague impression of what Gojou has been through, but that does not stop me from writing him like the cocky bastard he is. Hopefully it is not too OOC(as if yandere variant itself is not OOC enough pfttt) The reader is a stubborn psycho because that is what I am :) Will there be some future pieces that involves nsfw elements? I got a few ideas but no promises.

I blame @popi-the-fatui for my Gojou brainrots. You got your revenge on me by making me attracted to this dubious man. Word count: 1.6k

Banner credit

Warnings: Female pronouns, Possessive behaviour, DELUSIONAL behaviour, non-consensual touching, power inbalance, general yandere content, slight mention of confinement and violence(This is not a healthy relationship dynamic!!!), reader is not a soft UWU girl, kthis is so self indulgent *buries myself into the bottomless pit of shame

It has been nearly fifteen minutes since the headquarter disconnected the call, yet you are still staring at your phone screen with disbelief.

You were supposed to travel to another city for a mission tomorrow, they had notified you of this mission a week ago.

You already got your luggage packed, and your theoretical research on the objective is thoroughly done. Then they dare to inform you: they have found a more suitable candidate! Right on the day before your departure too.

Your curse techniques have already limited you to more of a supporting role for most situations. There are not plenty of missions available for you to begin with. While you are content with educating the fresh blood of the community in classrooms the majority of the time, you still long for field actions every once in a while. It is an essential part of being a Jujutsu sorcerer after all.

Both you and the soft-spoken secretary who made the call know this is nonsense. The higher-ups recognize that you are one of, if not the best sorcerers available when it comes to reconnaissance and espionage.

Letting out a sigh of immeasurable frustration, you swore to yourself that you will find out who is the conductor of this humiliating turn of events. This is going to be difficult since you do not recall having any issues with any of the administration staff recently.

There is no reversing this misfortune, but at least you can be aware of who is responsible for such violation of conduct.

He is only doing this to protect you.

Gojou Satoru tells himself as such, at least.

He is aware of how unfair it is, to make someone less capable to take on the job. But he cannot risk your safety. The man has already got used to your company, and he is not willing to just let you disappear from his field of view for more than a week. Sure, you might have not admitted how much you like him yet, but it is just too endearing to see you flustered at his flirtatious words.

Although there have been some difficulties with rescheduling, he managed to use his connections to exclude you from that first-grade mission at last minute. On the bright side, the sorcerer cannot wait to lend you an ear to vent about how conservative and unfair the higher-ups can be. Maybe you will even say yes to a trip to the newest local bakery! You need some sweet treats to cheer yourself up, don’t you?

But Satoru has never thought about how you specialize in putting two and two together. (understandable since he never saw you in action before).

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

Strange, you are not near the usual area in the library.

Sensing his footsteps, you opened your office door before Satoru had a chance to knock.

“We need to talk, Gojou-san.” That expression is new. This is the first time he sees you genuinely angry, which is to be expected.

But somehow he got a bad feeling about this.

You did not even invite him to sit down, instead just standing next to the floor window, arm crossed, with your back turned to him.

“Why would you do such a thing?” You have to use up all of your self-control to prevent yourself from having a full blow-up right at Gojou Satoru. Maintain composure. But it is easier said then done.

Does he think this is funny? To sabotage someone else's sorcerer career like this? You knew you should have kept him out of your daily life, as he is nothing but trouble to you. But you made the mistake of choosing to tolerate him, and some superficial part of you might even enjoy his dallying words a bit too much.

To the extent, you overlooked some red flags. This is a grievous error indeed.

Shit, now that he vaguely remembers what role you play on missions.“(y/n)-chan, what are you saying-” He knows you always act in supporting positions, however, he has overlooked your actual abilities and curse techniques. You collect intel and spy on enemies, how could he forget that? “Don’t play dumb with me. You got your ways, I got mine. There is no use denying what you have done. I thought you out of all people would understand what it means to be a sorcerer.”

This is a violation of protocol, changing mission assignments at the last minute. However, you know this man would not be receiving any solid punishment should you decide to report this. They would say there is “no harm done” and you would just receive a pitiful apology. Suppose you cannot blame them though.

They need Gojou Satoru, the Jujutsu community needs his prowess to keep innocent people safe. He will remain in the system no matter what.

Why are you questioning his motives? Does he have to spell it out for you? Letter by letter?

“You are not a skilled combatant, (y/n)-chan. What if you got yourself hurt?” Or even worse, killed. It scares him to think that you could be gone one day, how he would walk by this office corridor and never sees you sitting behind the desk ever again.

Not much in this world could send Gojou Satoru a chill down his spine, yet the thought of you dying is now on the list. He knows how petty this is, you wouldn’t be the one doing the actual exorcising after all. But the if, the slight possibilty.

He cannot allow that to happen, not ever. Even that means angering you and getting yelled at.

“What am I, some normal lawful citizen? I am a sorcerer just like you, Gojou-san. Putting ourselves on the line for innocents is part of the deal.” You let out a few short, sarcastic giggles, narrowing your eyes at him with fury. “It’s funny that you, out of all people, fail to understand that. If I am needed I will do what I must. If this is some sort of sick joke, stop it already, not funny. ”

Blunt, unrelenting stubbornness. Not like that’s news for him, Satoru has lots of experience with that since the day your path crossed. Although he finds this quality to be adorable most of the time, it can pose major problems like the present.

Oh, he is not angry at you. Satoru is more outraged at himself, don’t you worry. On the contrary, he is rather intrigued by your sarcastic remarks! However…

Instead of walking towards where you stood near the window, the man decides to take a turn towards the door.

That flashing panic within your eyes did not escape his sight.

The illusion figure you were projecting near the window dissipated instantly once he got your left wrist in his hand. Concealing yourself and projecting illusions, a rare techique indeed.

“Clever tactic. Making yourself invisible, projecting a faux illusion to distract me, leaving the door open and staying close to the exit. Your curse techniques are impressive. I almost got fooled, job well-done (y/n)-chan.”

The grip on your wrist suddenly tightens, you have to bite your lip to hold back a hiss of pain. How can he still flash that casual, playful smile when committing such atrocity? Those damned cerulean blue eyes too, you are ashamed of how you tremble and (internally) swoon at it at the same time.

Efforts to get away would most likely be futile, but you have to try. “See, you underestimated your opponent. I do see why you are good with lurking in the shadows now. Do you have any idea what I am capable of though?” Such delicate hands, it would be a shame if they were to bruise.

It’s unnerving how easy it looks for him to maintain a solid grip on your wrist while you pull back with all of your might. You know Gojou Satoru is strong and all, but this simple demonstration of strength is devastatingly effective. “Let go of me, you bastard!”

To your surprise, he softens his grip and you finally distanced yourself from him, panting and guarded. “Who are you to decide what I should and what I should not do? I made it crystal clear on the first day that I do not like you for the slightest.”

You know the walls are thin and coworkers might heard you, but you will have to worry about it later. It is, sadly, a matter of fact that you are somehow attracted to him, but that does not give him the right to use it against you. You must not give in to the temptation.

“You are pretty slow on the uptake for someone so smart. I was thinking of doing this naturally, we can go on normal dates to coffee shops, amusement parks, or even the museum if that is what you wish for. But now I see you do not know how much you mean to me.” Do you think Gojou-san is only flirting with you for the fun of it? It might have been the case in the beginning, but that is not the case since...recently.

He did not stop you again when you turned away, giving him one last menacing look and disappeared from his sight, even if he could see the faint trace of your curse energy. You will return to him and apologize after you calm down, he is confident about that. You value your job way too much to quit.

Then he could finally pull you into his arms, saying he does not mind and forgive your childish tantrums. Satoru does not plan to lock you up in a cage or anything(yet)! The students adore you and they need your guidance. Your clan is insignificant compared to his, your influence? Does he even need to consider that?

Gojou Satoru would always achieve his goals by whatever means possible. You are no exception to this.

#yandere fanfiction #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojou satoru #yandere x you #yandere gojou satoru x you #*screams into the sea of Quanta #I was a clown when I said I won't simp for him #tw: dark content #tw: yandere

223 notes · View notes

yoshkeii · 3 years

Text

"𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚢 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑"

࿐ character(s): Ushijima Wakatoshi, Daichi Sawamura, Kuroo Tetsurou

࿐ genre: sfw, soft/fluff, comfort, tiny angst if you squint

࿐ type: headcanons (hcs)? / imagine

࿐ requested by: @dumpsterfireinc

⌦ shymale!reader (he/him)

⌦ ‘if I can request comfort hcs for Ushijima, Daichi, Kuroo, and Oikawa who have a crush on as shy male!reader who thinks the boys should be with a girl and not him.’

A/N: i had to drop oikawa on this one since i cant seem to get his personality out?? i- uh-. i apologize- also my way of writing hcs is weird? idk why i like writing like that, but eventually they’ll shift- somehow- (i’ll probably make a proper hcs post if you want-)

1-16-2021: sorry in advanced if this took waaay to long. im doubting my writings. kinda shit but im just burnt out.

𝚄𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚊:

❀ Ushijima had a crush on you. of course he would, someone so soft, gentle, and shy. he actually found it cute you having those aspects. even though not a lot of people would enjoy such an introverted person at times.

❀ being shy would fit well together with his own personality generally. like being stoic and quiet himself. at some points he genuinely thought you and him were perfect. just two puzzle pieces that could fit together.

❀ he doesn’t know when he had a crush on you till Tendou or someone would bring it up. cause he always somehow had his eyes on you in the halls, classes, etc.

❀ adding on to his personality, he is very blunt and straightforward with his words. and when you heard those three words from the intimidating captain. made your heart skip a beat, muscles tense, and mind race.

❀ “..y-you.. like me??” the softened tone in your voice echoed within the empty afterschool halls.

❀ “Yes. I just stated that.”

❀ “..I heard you.. you dummy..” you muttered the last words softly. fiddling with your fingers nervously, he always found you fidgeting with something whenever you were nervous or put on the spot. your gaze kept low.

❀ the silence only just settled. making Ushijima await another word from your smaller figure.

❀ but he didn’t expect those words to slip out of your mouth. he never did.

❀ “Why.. Why would you want to be with me.. instead.” your voice still kept your softened tone, but it had a faint hint of sadness. the slight wavering of your voice gave way.

❀ “..isn’t it better to be.. with a girl instead? t-they’re better options. pretty. talented. i-i don’t.. have any of those.”

❀ Ushijima just stared, unsure on what to do. no one told him this would be a scenario or a possibility. thought it was simply just a yes or no to a confession, something quick.

❀ “You also won’t l-look.. weird.. o-odd.. with-” your voice cracked, tears gathered in your eyes. quickly wiping them away with a sniff.

❀ “F-fuck I’m sorry.. for c-crying..” softly cursing as you nervously laughed.

❀ “y/n,” Ushijima lifted your head gently with his hand making sure your eyes looked up at him, “..I don’t care, if people will look at us weirdly. I don’t care if they all knew or not.”

❀ he wiped the tears dripping from your eyes as you stared at him with disbelief.

❀ “I like you. No- I love you. That’s that. I love y/n, and nothing will stop that.”

❀ shortly, tears poured from your eyes from his words. softly murmuring apologizes for crying over this accompanied w/ a smile on your face. Ushijima just wiping your tears away for you, seeing how your face just melts in his hand in comfort. regaining composure after a couple of reassurances from him.

❀ “I-I.. I love you.. t-too.. Wakatoshi..”

𝙳𝚊𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒:

❀ mans had a big crush on you ever since you both had multiple shared classes. especially same homeroom.

❀ Daichi and you had an decent relationship, it wasn’t as close like he has with Sugawara or Asahi. having the same homeroom, he always found you alone and minding your own business a desk or two behind him in the back.

❀ sometimes exchanging the simple hellos and small talk whenever Suga and/or Asahi dared him to. knowing how his eyes occasionally drifts towards your direction of the room.

❀ for someone so quiet.. he didn’t know it could be a cute feature. an adorable one if he would say so himself. just seems too s o f t .

❀ your gentle voice always made his heart skip a beat, it was so calming. a remedy to his ears. after a few small talks and interactions, you both managed to hang out a little more often. being invited on study dates sessions since you were also pretty smart in the academics (brownie points!)

❀ as of right now, his eyes were simply glued on you. just watching you talk about whatever subject. he really wasn’t paying attention... or at all. admiring your features from across the small table on the floor that was littered with notebooks, textbooks, papers and pens.

❀ he knew you were shy so he often kept things low and safe for you whenever you both hung out once in awhile. sometimes exchanging little sticky notes with each other to limit talking.

❀ once he confessed to you, through the last sticky note of his. not a manly way to really confess but he couldn’t figure anything else out for you. didnt want to scare you away.

❀ you stared up at the captain in slight doubt, going back to the note to reread the words written. ‘would you like to go out with me?’ tiny hearts here and there on the note.

❀ looking back up at him, you noticed the slight blush across his face. you realized he was serious.

❀ “..why would you want to go out with me?” your grip on the note slightly tightened, as thoughts began to flood your mind. “wouldn’t it be better- be better with a girl?? a-and.. not me.” you began to slip on your words, gaze slipping down to avoid his eyes as you noticed him looking up at you now.

❀ “..with.. a girl?” Daichi mustered out.

❀ “or.. anyone but... me. I’m not.. popular. I’m not.. p-pretty, c-cute.. handsome.. s-smart either...” you began to ramble, negative thoughts after another.

❀ “H-hey y/n. y/n..!” Daichi was closer to you now, his hands on your shoulders hoping to get you out of your negative trance.

❀ it successfully worked, making you stop but your gaze still remain low. hearing a sigh from Daichi made you tensed, you liked him too. you loved him. but you don’t know if it was best for him to date you. or be in a relationship in that matter.

❀ Daichi wrapped his arms around you, “Don’t be so harsh to yourself. I denied most of the confessions... j-just.. to ask you out one day you know. I’m confident I want you more than any girl.” he muttered.

❀ noticing you relaxing in his arms made him slightly smile, feeling you hug back. your hands grasping the back of his gakuran, mustering the urge to cry you hid your face on his shoulders. eventually muffling out your soft sobs and various ‘i love you too’

𝙺𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘:

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐.

❀ it was obvious Kuroo was crushing on someone. and that someone was you. being one of the assistances, or at this point the team would’ve eventually called you their manager. often there to aid and help whenever needed so you stumbled by the gym many times to either drop something off for one of the members or coaches.

❀ always teasing and flirting with you, which wasn’t such an out-of-character of him. knowing him to be the master of provocation. but often when you weren’t there, he would start talking about you. unconsciously sometimes.

❀ which gave a big sign of his feelings, especially through Kenma. it wasn’t so hard to see, but you were dense and oblivious over it.

❀ he knew you liked him back eventually, seeing how you haven’t turned him down with any of his teases accompanied with the slight blush on your face each time. you were just too shy to say anything about it.

❀ he was aware that you were very shy and introverted. always seeing you staying back or infront of crowds in the hallway and avoided them at all costs. being observant he took note of it.

❀ always managing to catch you away from people or just a little people in the area, he used that time to talk to you more privately.

❀ you both began to get to know each other pretty well each time.

❀ exchanging interests and moments you’ve had in your life. often making you giggle at his silly retorts and remarks, funny moments of his teams and others. he was genuinely seeing a new side of you.

❀ never really seeing you smile brightly and laugh without holding back. it felt surreal and a literal dream.

❀ “Hey, y/n, have you dated anyone yet?” Kuroo looked over at you, eyes staring in curiosity with his common sly smirk.

❀ “I-.. uhh.. n-not yet?” you nervously laughed, messing with the sleeve of your nekoma track jacket.

❀ “Well then.. do you have a crush?” he continued on.

❀ “O-oh.. Ye-yeah! He probably won’t like me b-back though..” you murmured.

❀ “Wait- He!?”

❀ “H-hey,, Kuroo! Keep y-your voice down please..!!” you playfully punched his shoulder in return he faked an ‘ow’ “..b-but.. yes.. i like a guy.. h-he’s popular so i doubt he would like me b-back.” you looked up at him with a weak smile, hoping to not seemed phased by it.

❀ “Ahhh.. why’s that then.” his curious tone turned stern, tilting his head into his palm so it rested comfortably. “hmmm~?”

❀ “Oh.. w-well.. he’s popular with the girls.. a lot of them a-actually. I bet he l-likes them more than me.. girls are b-better for him anyways...”

❀ “What if they weren’t? He could be gay.. or bisexual... or pan and all that jazz y’know y/n?”

❀ “Thats true.. what about you kuroo-san?” you took a sip of water from your bottle aside of your thigh.

❀ “I have a crush too of course. And its actually you.”

❀ you choked on the water, coughing out a reply, “w-wait you.. you like me.. me- back?!” you only looked at him with disbelief, coughing slightly still.

❀ Kuroo only laughed at your off-guard reaction, “K-kuroo!! I-it’s not funnyyy..!” you whined, covering your face with your jacket. “hhhh.. g-god damnit..”

❀ after a few moments it went silently, peeking your eyes out from your hidden position Kuroo pecked your forehead. Suddenly aside of you, entwining his hand with yours.

❀ “Of course I like you back~ I want you to be my boyfriend you softie.”

#at-dusk;- 🌆#folder 📁;- 𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚢𝚞𝚞 #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #kuroo tetsuro x male reader #daichi sawamura x male reader #ushijima wakatoshi x male reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #Ushijima Wakatoshi #Daichi Sawamura #Kuroo Tetsurou

443 notes · View notes

scxrlettwxtches · 3 years

Text

love me, love me not | bang chan

genre: angst, humor, fluff, college!au, female!reader

warnings: slight swearing, not edited ahhh

prompt: argument leading kissing

description: when chan rejected you, you never expected that it would become the catalyst for your love story, rather than the end of it. but, life and a few welcome matchmakers have a way of playing with fate.

word count: ~6.5k+

a/n: hi, anon! im so so sorry for the wait. i totally had a writer’s block while writing this, and im super sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted...i tweaked the prompt ever so slightly, but i hope you still like it! >.< it’s also wayyy longer than i’d predicted haha oops. as always, my ask box is open if anyone wants to be friends! love you all! <3

It took a total of three days and five hours for Chan to realize he might've fucked up.

When the thought first appeared in his head, he dismissed it out of indignation. How could it have been his fault?! He didn't know you were going to confess. He didn't know he was hurting you by jumping around from girl to girl.

"You... you're what?" Chan stuttered, his pace faltering to a stop as he tried to process your words.

"I'm in love with you," you repeated, stopping in your tracks as you turned to face him, your hands gripping the straps of your backpack tightly.

"I have been for years," you said plainly, looking into his eyes with a simple gaze.

Chan stammered, and for the first time, his mouth worked before his brain and he blurted out the stupidest response he could've conjured up, "I already have a date tonight."

You flinched as if he’d slapped you hard across the face, showing visible hurt at his careless words. You were always the collected one, always the person that could flash a smile even in the most uncomfortable circumstances. It felt weird, uncomfortable even to see you waver.

When you replied to him, you had already recovered, your face passive and your voice steady, "I know. I helped you set it up, dipshit," you said with a dry smile.

"Then, why would you say this now?" Chan felt churlishly ungrateful. How dare you tell him now? Right when he finally scored that girl he'd been secretly pining after for days. It had taken so much effort, and you'd know because it was only through your shared internship with her that this date even became possible.

Oh, he was being so callous, so insensitive. And yet, you showed nothing more than a flash of hurt in your eyes, a sign he had clearly missed while he was too busy worrying about himself.

“Because you asked me if I liked anyone, and I didn’t have any reason to lie to you,” you shrugged indifferently before checking your watch, “Oh, you’re going to be late. I’ll walk the rest of the way by myself.”

And without waiting for another response from him, you turned on your heels and walked down your street without the one companion you’ve had all your life. It was lonelier than you thought it would be.

Ever since that day, Chan’s relationship with you had irrevocably changed. He still saw you every day, still walked you to your classes and spent his lunch period with you at the nearby cafe, but a large chasm had opened in your relationship, a divide of unspeakable topics after you’d so bluntly confessed to him and unknowingly sent him into an existential crisis.

“How was the date?”

Speaking of the devil, Chan choked on his chocolate milkshake as you interrupted his thoughts, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" he wheezed, hitting his chest to catch his breath.

You gave him a strange look, clearly sensing his discomfort, but making no moves to resolve the situation as you looked back down at your notes.

“I asked how the date was,” you repeated, scribbling as you jotted down some of the main points from your textbook, “Didn’t you have one? Two days ago?”

“O-oh, right,” Chan nodded, clearing his throat deliberately, “Yeah, it was good, I guess.”

Truthfully, Chan did not remember the date very well. What was her name? Miyeon? Mina? Fuck, was he suffering from early memory loss already? She was quite pretty; he remembered how she looked very vaguely, dressed in a prim and proper manner and carrying herself with grace.

And yet, the one thing that Chan clearly did remember was that he felt nothing.

There was no spark. No instant realization that the girl before him was the one. No dramatic eye contact or k-drama OST to make up for awkward silences.

All in all, it seemed like it was another fail.

You sensed his dejected mood as always, and nudged his still hand on the table, “Hey, it’s alright. Not all dates are supposed to go well. You’re bound to have a few misses.”

“That’s the thing! It hasn’t been just a few misses! It’s been all misses!” Chan bemoaned as he let his head slump onto the table, and he couldn’t ignore the wry smile that crossed your face.

“You just haven’t found the right person yet, and that’s okay,” you chuckled, petting his soft hair. Chan let out an appreciative hum, his eyes automatically closing at the soothing sensation. Your hands felt nice, your pets were always comforting. It would be even better if you’d run your hands through his hair while he--

Wait, what?

Chan shook his head quickly, messing up his soft hair and causing you to pull away, much to his disappointment. What was that? His brain was traveling a mile a minute and the image that flashed in his head--his head on your lap, peaceful and domestic as you pressed kisses to his face while you carded your fingers through his hair--

“Oh, by the way. I’m going on a date tomorrow.”

It was like his dream shattered before his very eyes as you glanced at your nails, the scratching off another fleck of your black nail polish. Chan was genuinely caught off guard by the weird, sickly emotion in his gut as the words you uttered finally processed through his thick brain.

“W-what?” Chan failed to hide the surprise, but he somehow managed to hide the faint sense of disappointment. He shouldn't feel that, right? Friends should always support one another! Friends should always want them to be happy and find someone, right?

He didn't exactly feel those two things at the moment, and the guilt only added to the sickly feeling.

"Who?" Chan asked, trying not to sound bitter.

If you heard the unusual emotion in his voice--which you probably did--you didn't comment on it, "It's the school dance captain, Minho? He asked me out yesterday."

An image of the unfairly handsome, sharp-eyed, dashing dance captain, Lee Minho, appeared in Chan's head. He was the perfect man, of course. Literally Adonis of the modern age. Chan didn’t even know that you and him were friends, much less close enough to schedule dates.

“How do you know him? You’re not exactly the cream of the crop when it comes to dance, or anything physical for that matter--ow!”

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your hand back, watching as he rubbed his forehead dramatically, “We have computer science together, asshole. And he’s a good friend of Jisung.”

“Everyone’s a good friend of Jisung’s,” Chan muttered under his breath, still reeling from your harsh attack, “Why does it have to be Minho?”

He hadn’t planned on you catching his latter question, but seeing the raise of your eyebrow and the immediate change in expression to something slightly more guarded, you asked, “Oh? And what’s wrong with Minho?”

Chan stiffened at the defensive question, feeling his blood grow hot. Of course there wasn’t anything wrong with Minho. He was surprisingly warm-hearted, smart, funny, and a phenomenal dancer. There was nothing wrong with him, and yet, Chan felt a red hot jealousy and anger bubble out of his lips as he blurted out:

“I just don’t want you going with him.”

Oh, that came out wrong. That came out so very wrong.

“And who are you to tell me what to do, Christopher Bang?” your voice was cold and closed off, using his full name as you only did when you were furious.

Chan flinched at your tone, feeling more hurt than he thought he would. But, at the same time, he bristled in frustration. You didn’t understand what he was feeling. (He didn’t understand it either.)

“He’s not good for you, Y/N,” he lied, avoiding your piercing gaze as you scoffed.

“Oh?” you sounded rightfully furious, absolutely fed up with the constant back and forth and utter indecisiveness that was Bang Christopher Chan, “And who exactly do you think is good for me? You?”

It was scathing, meant to hurt, and hurt it did. Chan recoiled at your burning words, “That’s not what I meant!” He snapped defensively, his temper rising unusually as your argument began to draw the attention of other customers in the cafe.

Your hands shook as you clenched them into little fists, “Then what did you mean, huh?” You asked softly, eyes lowered to the table.

Chan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out as he struggled to dictate exactly what he was feeling. What even was this? This burning pain in his heart at the thought of you with another, this fear in his mind that he will no longer be your first priority?

You took his silence as acceptance, and you scoffed, trying to ignore the prickly feeling behind your eyes, “I see,” you spoke with an air of finality, and before Chan could speak, you pushed out of your seat, beginning to walk away.

“W-wait!” Chan’s motion was frantic and unthought of as he grabbed the edge of your soft cardigan.

“Channie, it’s fine,” you said simply as you refused to face him, and he was unable to see your expression. Your voice gave nothing away, perfectly neutral and closed off.

“This isn’t goodbye or anything, dipshit,” you continued, standing still as you spoke, “I just have something I have to do. Text me when you need me.”

With that, you yanked your arm away, and the fabric of your sweater slipped through his fingers. Chan was frozen in his position, half ready to stand up and half still sitting. It wasn’t a goodbye, he told himself. You said it yourself. It wasn’t a goodbye.

But why did it feel so much like one?

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Chan looked away from the window, his eyes wide and startled as the woman in front of him gave him a merciful smile as she rested her head on her hand, watching him inquisitively.

“So you are,” she confirmed, absently twirling the pasta around her fork as she continued to study him.

Chan felt his face flush with shame and guilt. It had been almost a whole day since your fight with him, and--unable to study because of it--he decided to drown his sorrow the only way he knew how: by setting up another date. He called the girl he went out with two days ago, Mina, and to his utmost surprise, she agreed to a second date.

But now, Chan was sure that the chance of a third was completely out the window, especially since he was spending much of this date daydreaming.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stuttered out an apology, and truthfully, he was ashamed that his mind wouldn’t stay in one place no matter how much he willed it to, “I’ve just been really busy with work, a-and it’s been weighing down on me.”

Mina smiled at that, a gentle, knowing smile that send to pierce through all of Chan’s clumsy excuses, “I see. So it wasn’t about anyone in particular?”

Chan felt his heart jump in panic. This was probably one of the most mortifying moments in his life, “I don’t believe so?” He said in a questioning tone as he stabbed at his ravioli, playing with it more than he was actually eating.

Even as he lied, his thoughts travelled to another date that was supposed to be happening right as this time. He’d heard through the grapevines that you were going to a cute dinner date with Minho on the other side of town. The two of you haven’t spoken at all since the fallout, which was very uncommon. Not a single text, call, or meeting was exchanged.

Chan wanted to tear his hair out from the frustration. How was it? Were you having fun on your date? Was Minho treating you well? Of course, he would; that was a stupid question. Minho was always known to treat his dates well, even if they didn’t turn into anything long term. He was just kind like that, and--at this moment--he was definitely doing a much better job making you happy than Chan was.

“Hm,” the girl mused carefully, twirling her fork a couple more times before asking innocently, “Are you sure you’re not thinking about your friend, Y/N?”

Jackpot. Chan’s eyes grew comically wide as he choked in his fancy ravioli dish, his face turning red as he quickly tried to drown his throat with water so he didn’t die from asphyxiation, “Y/N?” he stammered, and the image of you from the last time you spoke with him--your face of hurt and betrayal as he snapped at you for no reason at all--flashed in his brain, making him feel yet another coil of burning hot guilt.

Mina nodded serenely, eating as she watched you carefully, “So, I was right?” She asked knowingly, and Chan wondered how long it’s been she’d figured it out.

Nevertheless, he winced and dipped his head respectfully, “I am very sorry,” he said solemnly, and he truly was sorry, “I just...we had a falling out yesterday, and I’m just worried that I might’ve accidentally lost a friend.”

“Oh? Was it that bad of a falling out?” Mina asked, and Chan was almost dumbfounded by how casual his date was at the notion of him thinking about another person during their dinner.

But at the same time, he’d been aching for someone to confide in, aching to sort out the jumbled mess inside his heart, “It was bad,” he admitted, “She was trying to tell me that she got a date, and instead of being happy for her, I sort of blew up in her face.”

“Oh. So it’s bad.”

The blatant honesty was enough to make Chan put his head in his hands, “Yeah, it was bad. Looking back, I’m surprised she didn’t get even more angry at me.”

Mina let out a soft chuckle at his self deprecating words, which made Chan felt just slightly better, “Why did you get so angry?”

Chan blinked, looking up at the question, “H-huh?” If anything, he’d expected Mina to get angry, not for her to start questioning him like a lawyer.

“I mean,” Mina continued, shrugging as she sipped at her champagne, “is Minho a bad person?”

“Not at all. He’s a great guy,” Chan said, almost immediately getting defensive. Minho was a great guy, and he deserved someone wonderful by his side. Someone like you.

“Do you think he and Y/N won’t get along?”

“No!” Chan huffed, growing frustrated by the interrogation but also understanding that he was the one at fault here for ruining a perfectly nice date.

“Then why did you get angry?”

Chan opened his mouth to speak, but as obvious as the reason seemed to be just then, he couldn’t actually pinpoint a direct reason. Why was he so angry? Why was he angry at the prospect of you being happy? Was it because he was just a bad person?

Or, was it because you were going to be happy with someone other than him?

Mina smiled slyly as she watched the poor, unknowingly besotted boy come to one of the most important revelations of his college life, “Well?” She asked, tilting her head expectantly.

Chan swallowed, and his palms felt unnaturally sweaty, as if he were about to perform with his friends on stage. The very thought of it scared him a little, not because it was so undesirable of an outcome, but because of the growing guilt that he didn’t realize it before, and the prospect of fulling understanding how much pain his obliviousness might have caused you.

“I was angry because I wanted it to be me,” he whispered, softly enough that he hoped Mina wouldn’t hear it, but from her smile, she definitely did.

“You wanted to be Minho?” she clarified, almost relishing in the way she was forcing Chan to cough up the buried feelings hidden so deep inside his heart that even he himself wasn’t aware of them.

Chan nodded, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from under him again, but this time, it was a light, airy feeling rather than a terrifying plummet.

There was a moment of silence before Mina suddenly began to giggle, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Chan looked up, flustered by her actions as he felt his face burn. He was still a little nervous that he’d insulted her by basically confessing to be in love with another person on their date.

“Oh, you’re actually adorable,” Mina smiled, wiping at the corners of her eyes before she took a deep breath, “Do you know, the first time we went on a date, a couple days ago, I actually thought you were cheating on Y/N.”

“W-what?” Chan sputtered, his cheeks growing bright red at the very thought, “Why?”

“Well, I’ve seen the two of you around, and your relationship is almost a known secret around campus,” Mina explained, “Especially once when I saw the two of you at a cafe studying together, and the way you were looking at her...it made even my heart flutter just watching you stare at her. I doubt you were even listening to what she was saying.”

Chan thought back to your study sessions, thought back to every time he’d have you explain a difficult equation or problem. Bizarrely, he didn’t remember a single concept at all, but he did remember everything about you as you were speaking. The way a single strand of hair traced your face and you always had to brush it behind your ear. The way you’d pout if the question stumped you, too. The way you’d sometimes get lost in your own explanation and start talking about a topic so high level that Chan had been lost for minutes already, but he couldn’t bear to stop you because you looked so adorable.

Oh, shit.

“Then,” Chan swallowed nervously, “you agreed to go on that date with me because you thought I was cheating on her?”

“Well, first off, she helped put us together, which diminished the possibility of that being true,” Mina shrugged, continuing to eat, “Also, if it was true, then I’d be able to catch you right in the act and tell her directly.”

Chan felt a little ashamed and unfairly blamed. Of course he wouldn’t cheat on you! He’d never cheat on anyone, much less you of all people. The very notion of hurting you in such a way was practically unbearable.

“But, as we talked that night,” the girl continued nonchalantly, “it became clear to me that the two of you weren’t together, but you also were totally oblivious to how in love with her you are.”

The back of Chan’s throat was completely dry at this point, despite the copious amount of water he’d been chugging throughout this date, “I-I’m not in love with her,” he stammered defensively, “We’ve been best friends for years!”

Mina leveled him an unamused glare, “Oh? You’re not in love with her, but you feel pain at the notion of her being with someone else. You’re not in love with her, but you can only remember every good thing about her. You’re not in love with her, but you look at her as if she’s your whole sun, moon and earth combined.”

Chan felt cornered, his eyes wide at the revelation as he choked out, “B-but if I love her, t-then all this time--haven’t I been hurting her over and over?”

“How so?”

“S-she confessed earlier this week--b-but I didn’t know!” Chan said helplessly, beginning to panic. If this was all true--and slowly, his mind was beginning to process that it very well could be--then he’s caused you unimaginable pain for no good reason. Then he’d rejected you in the most brutal, uncaring way possible.

Mina sighed, rubbing her eyes, “Oh, dear god. You’re actually an idiot. What are you doing here? Go apologize! Don’t turn up empty handed. And don’t expect anything from her. Just ask her sincerely for her forgiveness.”

Chan nodded, already scrambling out of his seat and fumbling as he placed a few big bills on the table, “I’m so so sorry about this,” the apologies spilled out as he bowed respectfully towards Mina, “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…”

“Just don’t be an idiot and try to date the entire student population when the one for you is right beside you,” she retorted dryly, smiling at him, “And good luck.”

Chan ran faster than he ever had before. He ran faster than when his high school class had made him the final runner in the school relay. He ran faster than when he was late to his first job offer in his second year of college. None of those things felt nearly as important as this: the notion of losing you for good.

He rushed to the flower shop that you always spared forlorn glances at, but never spent money on. Apologizing profusely for barging in right before closing time, he bought a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, a collection of roses, lilies, and orchids.

Oh gosh, what if you weren’t home? What if you didn’t come home for the night, but rather stayed with Minho? The very thought caused his stomach to turn.

By the time he made it to your house, his lungs were burning and gasping for air as he rushed to your door. His heart plummeted as he glanced through the window and saw that none of the lights were on, but nevertheless, he pressed your doorbell urgently.

Of course, there was the possibility of saying sorry tomorrow, or saying sorry the day after, but for Chan, they didn't seem like options at all. He had to tell you now, beg for your forgiveness now. If not, he had a feeling that everything between the two of you would be unsalvageable.

No, no, no! You weren't home. Chan peeked into the window again, but the inside was pitch black. You should've been done with your date by now. You should be home, but you weren't. Chan’s heart was racing with fear as he fumbled for his phone. What if calling you made it worse? Oh god, what should he even do?

He just couldn't lose you. Not as a friend, not as a soulmate. He didn't care if he lost his chance with you, he needed you by his side. He needed to see you, he had to fix things—

“Channie?”

Whirling around, his heart seemed to falter as he saw you standing on the street, looking at him with a confused expression. With the dim street light behind you, Chan swore at that moment, you looked like an angel. You were so pretty, dressed up for your date with your hair half up. He swallowed his pride, his guilt, his fear, and he walked towards you clutching the bouquet in his hands.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widened a fraction as you glanced to the side, where Minho was currently walking with you around the pier. His jacket was draped over your frame, even though the night was only slightly breezy, and you relished its weight on your shoulders.

Still, your expression dropped at his question, “I don’t want to talk about him today, Minho.”

“Why not?” He asked, looking around at the sun slowly setting behind the vast ocean as the sky was colored with vibrant reds, purples, and blues.

“Because we’re not exactly on good terms right now,” you muttered, looking down, “Also, isn’t this supposed to be our date? How are you so comfortable with the idea that I’m thinking about someone else?”

Minho laughed, turning to gaze at you fondly, “Well, I can’t exactly change the way you think, can I?” he smiled, ruffling your hair and making you complain with a loud whine, “So the best I can do is to help you get through it.”

You fought the smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and you gently squeezed Minho’s hand, feeling touched, “Thanks.”

“Whatever, dork,” Minho rolled his eyes, “So what happened? Did that idiot say something stupid again?”

“Sort of.”

“Y/N, you are being really unhelpful,” he frowned at your vague answers.

“It was just confusing,” you finally confessed. You’d barely gotten a wink of sleep that night, Chan’s words, his outburst of anger, replaying in your head like a broken record. Why was he so angry? Hadn’t he told you flat out that he had absolutely no feelings for you, crushing your dim light of hope so completely that you’d secretly sobbed your eyes out after walking home?

“Well, if it was confusing for you, I’m sure Chan was just as confused with himself,” Minho chuckled dryly, “What did he say?”

“He...was visibly upset. About this,” you gestured to you and Minho in a helpless manner, almost begging for some sort of clarification.

“Ah, this. You mean us two?” Minho asked, stopping at an empty bench along the pier and deciding to sit down. After all, the two of you had been walking for the latter half of the hour, trying to digest the delicious lunch he’d treated you to.

“Yeah, said something about not liking me being with you, or whatever bullshit he was spitting that day,” you muttered, feeling your blood grow hot just thinking about it.

“Wait, he said that? Chan?” Minho fought the urge to laugh as he tried to make sure he was picturing the scenario correctly. His plan was going better than he’d expected, and Chan had fallen into it without even being slightly aware of it.

You nodded, kicking your feet back and forth as you rolled your eyes, “It was ridiculously uncalled for. You didn’t do anything that warranted that sort of reaction.”

“I can be a bit of a sleeze when I try to be,” Minho pointed out, chuckling when you lightly punched his arm, “So, he said I wasn’t good for you. What’s the big deal? He’s probably just being protective, right?”

“He’s always protective, this was different,” you shook your head. Chan was always the self-sacrificing, putting other people before himself type. He was inherently protective of you just by the virtue of being your friend, whether that meant walking you home every night or trying to make sure that you didn’t forget to eat meals. But that, the anger and almost fear that you felt from him, it felt too raw to just be his protective instinct.

“How so?”

You hesitated before elaborating, “Well, it felt almost like...he was jealous, but that’s ridiculous.”

Minho had to contain the almost giddy laughter that threatened to bubble out from his chest. You two were so oblivious, he felt like a conniving witch trying to put the two of you together. And boy, was he enjoying it.

“Why would it be ridiculous?” he asked innocently.

You leveled a glance at him, immediately sensing something strange about his tone, but not quite being able to identify it, “Of course it’s ridiculous. He rejected me earlier this week.”

“Wait. What the fuck?” Minho snapped, sitting upright immediately, almost like a cat that heard something dangerous nearby, “He rejected you? Outright?”

“Is there something called a lowkey rejection?” You laughed bitterly, “Yes, he full on rejected me. I told him I loved him and he just said he had a date that night.”

Suddenly, this game was significantly less fun. Minho wanted to jab his own eyes out in frustration before going to jab Chan’s eyes out for being so fucking stupid. You confessed, you literally told him outright that you loved him, and he was still stupid enough not to realize his own feelings?! What was it going to take? A good ol’ bonk to the head?

“Okay, Y/N. I’m going to drive you home right now,” he said seriously, and you turned to him, almost alarmed by how urgent his tone sounded.

“Um, why? Did something happen?” You asked, glancing at him in concern.

Minho shook his head, “Nothing, it’s just Chan being a fucking idiot and screwing everything up again.”

Your eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about?”

“Chan loves you,” Minho said, plain and simple, sending your head spinning as you tried to process the three simple words.

In the end, all you could do was laugh, a harsh, bitter sound as you rolled your eyes, “Very funny, Minho. Unfortunately, it’s not a very well thought out prank. He already told me otherwise.”

“He doesn’t even know it, goddamnit!” Minho spit out and you jumped at his aggressiveness, “Look, Y/N. I know this sounds crazy, and I know why you’d probably think I’m just being mean. But it’s true. I know it is. Chan loves you.”

Feeling unfairly placed on the spot, you lashed out at him, a sneer across your face as you retorted, “Oh? How are you so sure, huh? If he loves me oh so much, why is he going on a date with another girl for the twentieth time?”

“Because he’s a fucking idiot, okay?!” Minho groaned, running a hand through his hair, “Y/N, he’s probably beside himself with guilt right now, and I bet you he’s finally come to the realization himself.”

You scoffed bitterly, “That’s a bit late, don’t you think?”

“It is,” Minho agreed, wanting nothing more than to smack Chan’s forehead for being such an idiot. He glanced at you, his expression growing softer as he asked, “But you still love him, don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t, right?” Your voice was shaky as you laughed, feeling the green monster of envy and jealousy coil in your gut as you thought about all the times Chan had unknowingly broken your heart, and all you could do was cheer him on.

“It’s stupid, idiotic, unreasonable,” you continued, kicking your heels against the pavement as you glared at the ground so hard that you were probably burning holes into the cement, “and a waste of my fucking time.”

“You can’t force yourself to feel differently,” Minho pointed out, lowering his temper along with you as he spoke softly, “None of us can. If we could, why would unrequited love or affairs happen?”

“When did you get so wise, Aristotle?” You scoffed, fighting a smile as you ruffled his hair.

Minho swatted away your hands, “I’m trying to be serious here. Look, I bet you Chan is at your front door right now with a bouquet of flowers, anxiously wanting to apologize to you. I would bet ten dollars on it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your smile was almost predatorial, never shying away from a chance to make some fast cash, “Seriously?”

Minho’s smile faltered ever so slightly, and he hoped to whatever god who was listening that Chan was actually getting his fucking act together, “Hell yeah.”

You grinned, shaking his hand as you laughed, “You’re an idiot.”

“Whatever. Now let’s head back to the car so I can collect my ten dollars.”

Your dumb smile faded as you stepped out of the car in front of your driveway, eyes widening as you caught sight of a familiar figure standing on your porch. It couldn’t be. But yet, if your eyes weren’t playing yet another cruel joke on you, it was indeed your best friend, frantically knocking on the door with a bouquet of flowers in the other.

How could this be? How could he have done everything that Minho had predicted? Wasn’t he supposed to be on a date?

All the doubts, the questions, and the fears bubbled over as his name got caught in your throat, “Channie?”

For a moment, Chan genuinely thought that you were merely a figment of his imagination. Why would you be here? Especially with Minho standing beside his car a little ways away and with his jacket draped over your shoulders. Why had you returned?

His eyes widened as you walked closer, and the glow of the lamp light shifted in accordance to your movements. You were real. You were looking at him, albeit with a hint of caution laced with concern, but you were here.

“Channie, what are you doing out here?” You asked, and his heart began to pound with fear and guilt. You were worried about him. Even after everything he put you through, you still cared about his wellbeing.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his lack of response, and you walked cautiously closer, “Chan? Chris? Are you okay--eek!”

Chan’s feet grew a mind of their own, and he rushed towards you in a fit of desperation, crashing into you as he wrapped his arms tightly around your shoulders. It was a bit of an awkward position, since Chan was much bigger than you, but he managed to bury his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you as if it was his last chance.

If you weren’t concerned before, you certainly were now. Chan was never the clingy one. Yes, he liked cuddles and he never shied away from a good hug, but he was never like this, holding onto you for dear life.

“Chan, what’s happened? Gosh, you’re freezing. Why are you out here in the cold--” you froze as your ears perked up to what Chan was mumbling, repeating like a mantra.

He was apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--” He whimpered, his fingers tightening around your coat as he hugged you tightly, “Please, forgive me. I was so stupid. I didn’t know.”

You sighed, and you felt the residual bitterness bleed out of your body. Of course you knew Chan wasn’t purposely being malicious, and if it ate him up with guilt so much that he waited by your door to apologize, then that was enough punishment for you to be more than satisfied.

“Channie, I need you to look at me, okay?” You instructed with a hint of sternness, trying to pull away in order to face him. Chan shook his head, but complied all the same, pulling away from the safety of your arms in order to look at you.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Minho rolling his eyes as he got back in his car, mouthing the words “don’t fuck it up again.” Chan grimaced in affirmation. He didn’t plan on it; not in a million years would he ever want to hurt you again.

You gave him a small smile as he finally met your gaze, “Good boy,” you praised, and Chan was unfamiliar with the tremor in his body that your words caused. When was the last time he’d gotten that from anyone? Oh right, it always came from you. Words of affirmation always came from you, and you always knew when he needed it.

The apologies clawed their way up his throat until he could no longer stay silent.

“I’m so sorry--a-about yesterday,” he sniffled, his shoulders trembling as he hiccuped, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to be overbearing. I-I just--I realized how stupidly jealous I was about the whole situation, a-and I didn’t want you to leave me…”

You sighed, reaching up to pet his hair gently, “It's okay, I forgive you,” you said simply, and you did forgive him. There wasn't any point in holding it over his head like you were better than him, “Everyone says stupid things they don't mean, and you had a bad date the night before.”

Chan stared at you, his eyes glossy with unshed tears as he unabashedly admired your beautiful face, your kind eyes, your perfectly kissable lips. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. You were clearly giving him a way out. “Stupid things they don’t mean,” was what you called it.

But he meant them. He was truly jealous. And it wasn’t the right emotion to feel, but they were real. He wanted you. He wanted you beside him.

He shouldn’t be greedy. He shouldn’t bite off more than he deserved to have. It was a miracle in itself that you were willing to forgive him. But at the same time, Chan knew you were as lonely as he was. He wanted to try and fill that hole for you, damned the consequences.

And just like that, Chan made up his mind.

“W-what if I meant it?” He blurted out, studying your face for any micro expression you could give off that indicated you were uncomfortable.

Instead, you looked only puzzled, “Meant what?”

“I was jealous,” he confessed plainly, stepping just a hair closer, and to his astonishment, you didn’t back away. You allowed him into your personal space, slowly and cautiously.

“Why in the world would you be jealous?” You asked softly, ever so perceptive, “It’s not like you love me or anything.”

Chan winced at the reminder of his hurtful words, but he couldn’t avoid them. He could only make up for them by proving that he was an idiot, that he actually loves you so, so much, “I spent all my time trying to find my perfect other half,” he whispered, his words only meant for your ears.

“I was always looking, always feeling incomplete. But, maybe I was looking in the wrong place,” he said, slowly reaching his hand up to cup your cheek. He could practically count your eyelashes he was so close.

“Maybe, the reason I could never find them was because they were beside me the entire time,” he finished cautiously, his thumb brushing against your soft cheek. You let out a soft, shaky breath, and for a moment, Chan feared that he’d ruined everything all over again.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” You said finally, but Chan felt like almost sobbing with relief as you leaned into his touch. Acceptance. Tentative, but true.

Chan smiled, “That’s because you have all the braincells in this relationship, my dear,” he said solemnly, and his heart fluttered as you giggled. Ah fuck, he really was in love with you.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you,” he said again, holding you close as his forehead rested against yours, “I’m not at all experienced with this...dating thing, but I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make everything up to you. I’ll make you happy. I promise.”

You chuckled softly, and let your eyes flutter shut, “We can both learn along the way,” you said before your lips were pressed gently against his, and Chan’s brain quite literally short circuited. the kiss was chaste, innocent, gentle, and it swept him away like the warmest ocean breeze. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you ever closer.

That’s right, both of you had all the time in the world to learn. And everything would be alright, as long as you did it together.

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stayhavennet #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan blurbs #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #skz x reader #skz x y/n #my fics

759 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

GAWdf Illumi’s freaking hot

-----

You could always tell the rich ones, even when they tried to dress down, blend in.

This one wasn’t even particularly hiding his fancy shoes, the nice watch that peeps out from under his sleeve.

Plus, anyone with hair that nice, that long and pretty and well-groomed?

They gotta be rich.

You’ve been following him for about five minutes, a slender man in a long sleeve shirt and jeans - casual, simple.

He looks like a pretty rich boy, smooth skin, nice hands, manicured nails. Probably hasn’t ever had to lift a finger in his life, been able to pay his way.

You’re hoping he has cash on him, but if not, the watch will do. You’ve done this enough times, in enough cities, that you can estimate the price it’ll fetch pretty easily.

This should definitely be worth your time.

Slam him against a wall once you’re in a nice, secluded area, shake him down, hold your knife underneath his chin, press down juuuuust hard enough so that it bites, maybe cuts a little. Show him you’re serious and in-control. No funny business.

The man hasn’t even noticed you following him, which is good. But it also shows that he’s got too much confidence, feels protected by his money, never had to keep his head on a swivel, never had to watch out for any malicious individuals that might be roaming the streets.

He turns a corner, disappearing from view for a moment, and you quicken your steps. Rich boy’s heading into a generally deserted part of town, at least this time of night. You wonder for a second, just a second, what he’s doing out here. Looking for trouble? Meeting a friend?

It doesn’t really matter, not to you.

But as you peek around the corner, you expect to see the slim man, walking along without a care in the world, that pretty black hair swaying behind him, halfway down his back.

He’s nowhere in sight.

You step fully around the corner, look around, searching.

Where did the man go?

You walk quickly now, trying to keep your ears open for the sound of his near-silent footsteps ahead of you, eyes peeled for that shiny dark head of hair. Maybe the man ducked down a side street?

You’re so focused on what you want to see, that you fail to see the danger until it has you pinned.

Literally.

Needles press against your shoulders, threatening - not yet breaking skin, but pressing close enough to keep you flush against the wall. If you tried to move, you’d be punctured.

The man had slipped into a dark alcove, one of those doorways that was shielded from view, meant to create safety from rain, or a romantic moment where one would steal a kiss after walking their lover home.

Eyes as black as night, large and round like an owl’s blinked at you, the man tilting his head. “Were you hoping to mug me?”

His voice is melodic, or well, it could be. The potential’s there, for it to be sweet, simpering, alluring. Right now it’s flat, bored, uninterested.

There’s a needle, long and thick, being held flat against your face, pointed upwards at your eye. You can’t breathe.

“If I were anyone else, you might’ve been successful. Interesting.”

Those owlish eyes slipped downwards, assessing your body and it’s dingy, worn clothing. You wished you could make yourself smaller, escape from that gaze. It felt so invasive, yet all he was doing was looking.

But you didn’t dare move a muscle.

“Should I kill you?” The needle on your face slid upwards, and your breathing quickened as it inched closer to your eye. Too close for comfort, too close, too close, too-

“You’re very quiet. I suppose you won’t be begging for your life then. That’s nice, usually there’s quite a bit of noise.” The man paused for a moment, thinking. “And tears too, I guess.”

A thumb brushed against your cheek as if he was checking for wetness, trying to discern whether you were crying. Finding none, there was a moment’s pause.

You still couldn’t breathe.

“Odd.”

Shutting your eyes, you awaited death. you had no doubt that this was going to hurt. The needles applying pressure to your shoulder would pin you in place, then the needle on your face would be driven through your eye.

Hopefully it’d be quick.

The man heaved a sigh, although it sounded as if he was merely acting put-upon, and not truly annoyed. “Fine then. Come with me, I’m in need of stimulation.”

Your jaw almost dropped, eyes snapping open and bulging in their sockets as the man tucked his needles away. His movements were efficient and effortless, and you finally register your mistake in targeting the man. He wasn’t some common pleb.

He was someone who killed.

Wait, what did he say about stimulation?

But now your wrist was held in a vice grip, the long-haired man easily dragging you out of the alcove and along behind him as he resumed walking. His hands were cold.

“It’s been a while, so the chances of me hurting you are... likely.” His legs were so long, you had to take three steps for his every one, trotting along behind him in order to avoid getting dragged.

“I could just ignore my body’s urges, but I’ve found that I’m more efficient when basic needs are met and adequately satisfied.”

“Basic needs-” You mumbled, eyes on the ground in front of you, the concrete sidewalk whirring by. Calling for help would be pointless - there was no one around.

The man stopped in his tracks, and you bumped into his back abruptly with a small “Ooph-” before you could stop yourself. He turned.

“Nutrition, hydration, shelter, and companionship. Basic needs.”

Your mind filtered through his words. Nutrition, hydration, shelter....

Sex.

The long haired man, clutched your wrist a bit tighter. It hurt. You had felt the solid muscle thrumming under his skin when you had bumped into his back. There would be no escaping from this man.

“My name’s Illumi. Yours isn’t necessary. You’ve been smart so far, I would suggest you keep that up. Let’s go now.”

There was no mincing of words. Illumi blinked once, as if affirming to himself that you weren’t going to be stupid by trying to run or scream, then turned and resumed walking.

You just hoped he wouldn’t kill you when he was done.

295 notes · View notes

writersmorgue · 3 years

Text

Something Immortal

word count - 3k

warnings: suicide attempt, drug use, addiction, cursing, teenagers being gross

pairing: model!Todoroki x canon!Bakugo

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

"Holy shit guys he posted!!" Mina squeals, vaulting herself over the couch to reach the rest of the Bakusquad sitting on the common room carpet. An old original copy of Monopoly splayed out in the center of their group.

"Ooh, show us! Show us!" Kaminari leans forward, swiping half of the properties off the board in the process.

Sero groans, "Dude you do this every time!!"

The blond pouts, "Hey it's your fault I was losing."

Kirishima just chuckles, picking up his dog piece from jail and throwing it into the box.

"Your smart people game can wait," Mina tugs on Sero's ponytail, "He hasn't posted in weeks."

"Oh my god he's so fucking hot," Kaminari's knee-jerk reaction is whispered as soon as he sees the post.

Todoroki Shouto, one of Japan- and America's- most well-known models. The teenager, who happens to be their age, regularly models for magazines like Vogue, Joker, and Elle. The teenager who has starred in countless American and Japanese short and independent films. The teenager who just so happens to be the son of the number one hero, Endeavor.

No one knows his quirk, but it just adds to the mystery. Some people theorize he's quirkless, but others think he's got a crazy dangerous quirk, which is why he's a model instead of an aspiring hero. Not like he's not perfect for the job, with his gorgeous bi-colored hair and heterochromatic eyes. The scar on his left side somehow only adds to his beauty. It doesn't matter what your sexuality is, you simp for Todoroki Shouto.

But that's the obvious, now this photo- this photo.

"It's ethereal, I've never seen him look so serene before."

"He's an actual angel."

"How is he only eighteen?!"

Mina nods as Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima go through the seven stages of grief just looking at the photo.

Kirishima's eyes dart to Todoroki's username... which is just Shouto. In fact, the Todoroki name isn't mentioned once on his account, a fact that has hundreds of conspiracy theories on its own.

"Hey Meens, can we stalk him real quick? I wanna see who he's following."

She grins, "Well anything for you, munchkin."

Sero snorts. Their couple nicknames never fail to amuse anyone within hearing range.

"Ugh gross," Kaminari gags as Mina giggles, swiping off of the picture (which already has over 600,000) and onto his main page.

It's simple, plain yet elegant in the way only a PR manager could manage.

The bio is a link to his most recent shoot with some magazine that Kirishima doesn't recognize, the profile picture is a rare shot of him smiling, a blue checkmark, and a follower count of over four million.

His following count, however, is the shocker.

"He only follows fourteen people?" Sero whispers, clicking on the number.

"Huh," Mina turns the phone slightly so she can see, "Who is he following?"

"Let's see," Sero squints, eyes scrolling down the list, "Hawks... his siblings... Mirko... some American models... his agency's profile... and- wait, isn't that Bakugo?"

"HAH?" Mina yells, whipping the phone around and clicking on the profile.

Sure enough, a slew of photos shows up on her screen, all of their resident blond pomeranian glaring at the camera in various locations.

"He- WHAT?? It must be a glitch!" Mina scrambles frantically, eyes darting across the screen.

"Uh, yeah," Kirishima chuckles, "a glitch."

Mina scrolls up numerous times as if refreshing the page will help.

"I mean what other explanation can you think of?! It's not like Thee Todoroki Shouto would know our Bakugou, they're totally in different leagues." Mina sounds absolutely scandalized, causing Sero to laugh.

"I don't know, Meens, the proof is right there. We should ask him about it!"

"And what- DIE?" Kaminari reasons.

Sero nods, "Fair point."

"Pussies." Mina stands, planting her manicured hands on the edge of the couch, "I'll ask him myself."

"I REFUSE." A fourteen-year-old Shouto screams at his father.

"what do you mean you refuse? Shouto she's a lovely girl, and you need to procreate while you're still young if you're not going to become a hero like I want. You get one or the other." Todoroki Enji grabs his youngest child by the arm to lead him out of the kitchen, but Shouto jerks out of his grip. "Wh- SHOUTO."

"I'm going to live with Fuyumi. She'll take care of me." He holds his ground, shaking his father off when he tries once again to physically lead him out of the room.

"OH?" Enji bellows a laugh, "And how do you expect she'll find the money to take you in? Raising a teenager is expensive, you know, and she's only a simple school teacher."

"She's not a simple anything. And I- I'll find a way. We'll be fine. I already talked to several agencies."

"...agencies?"

"Wait, Mina!!" Kaminari calls after the girl, but she's a woman on a mission and there's no stopping her.

They arrive at Bakugo's door in a heap, Kaminari clawing at Mina while she knocks calmly. Kirishima and Sero stand to watch because they have no idea what else to do. (They're just as nervous as Kaminari but they're more afraid of Mina if they're being honest.)

A crash comes from inside the room, but soon their resident angry boy is slamming open his door and glaring at them. The normalcy is comforting.

"Do you fuckers realize what fucking time it is?"

"Yes~" Mina coos sweetly, "I know old men need their sleep but it's only 8:30 and we have a question."

He sighs aggressively and stretches his arms behind his back, cracking his shoulders and then his neck, Kaminari whimpers in fear.

"Alright, what do you want pinky?"

She's practically vibrating with excitement at this point.

"Why is Todoroki Shouto following you on Instagram?"

Bakugo seems to mull over this for a moment, and then he just shrugs.

Mina nods like this answers any part of her question, "That's what I thought, funny glitch. He's pretty hot though, right?"

The rest of the group nods emphatically.

Bakugo scratches his leg with his other heel, "He's not ugly, I guess."

Mina waves her arms around in Bakugo's general direction, "See!!? Even the straight guy agrees!!"

"No one was disagreeing with you, Mina." Sero snickers.

Bakugo grunts, then promptly slams the door in their faces.

"Well I guess that was more than he'd usually do at this time, we're lucky we didn't get exploded." Kirishima muses.

Kaminari nods, shuddering at the thought.

"Welp! That answers our question!" Although it really didn't, no one was about to argue with Mina, "Anyway I'm going to bed."

"Say hi to your vibe for me!" Sero whispers after her.

She waves as she marches away, humming to herself.

Shouto stares at the street below.

He wonders if he'd die falling from a height like this. He hopes he doesn't hit anyone.

Slowly, he removes his expensive sneakers, dropping them on the modelling agency's roof beside him. It's breezy tonight, and Shouto, freshly sixteen, has nothing to live for anymore. So he won't.

Stepping carefully over the guardrail, not sure why since he's about to jump. Maybe part of him is still afraid.

Whatever he can get over it.

His thin frame wobbles in the wind, and he breathes deeply, too focused on relaxing to notice the roof door opening, and hurried steps coming up behind him.

A warm hand grabs him, almost startling him off the side of the building.

The interruption heaves heavy breaths in his ear as they both topple down onto the concrete floor.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Oh, it's Bakugo.

The only child of his manager, Mitsuki Bakugo, who happens to be a nosy little shit who can't stay out of other people's business.

"Get OFF" Shouto shoves him, frantically scrambling toward the railing again. He needs this.

"NO! Todoroki get the fuck back-"

"It's SHOUTO." blood spurts onto his gray sweater and he realizes with muted horror that he just elbowed his employer's son in the nose.

"Fuck I'm so sorry, are you okay?" He bends down, removing his trashed pullover, and holds it to his friend's nose.

Bakugo snorts, "Sorry- Shouto I mean." He winces when Shouto presses harder into his face, "I'll forgive you if you don't jump."

Shouto sighs, "You know why I was going to."

Bakugo visibly calms at the use of past tense, the outburst must have snapped him out of it.

"Your mom, right?" Shouto tenses.

"Yeah I- he barred me from ever seeing her again and I- I don't know what to do." He shudders and pulls his pills from his pants pocket.

He wonders what his mom would say if she found out her baby was addicted to drugs.

Bakugou frowns but lets his friend take the pill, not sure what to say.

"Fucking piece of shit. Is that even legal?"

"Legally the number two hero can do whatever the fuck he wants. We live in a flawed world, Bakugo.

"I- Shouto."

"Hmm?" Shouto collapses onto the ground, crunching the pill and sighing as he feels the effects start to take almost immediately.

"I care- I care about you, okay? So please let me help you. Let me get you help."

A tear slips down to Shouto's ear without his permission, he wipes it away as quickly as it came.

"I don't know, Bakugo. You haven't exactly seemed to like me in the past. Even though I like to think we're friends I know you don't feel the same." He frowns, admiring the shine of wetness on his palm in the moonlight.

Bakugo grumbles, "Don't fuckin' tell me what I do and don't feel. I really fuckin' care about you even though I'm an ass about it, okay? I'm not good with emotions so don't expect much from me. But I do want you to be happy and I don't think the uh- the pills are helping."

The blond holds out a hand and reluctantly Shouto slaps the container into it.

"Fine," he mumbles, "you're uh- not as bad as I thought."

Bakugo snorts, "You're just as bad as I thought, but I like you anyway."

Against his will, Shouto finds himself blushing, thankful that it's mostly hidden in the dark.

"C'mon," Bakugo gestures to his own chest, "I know you could use one."

Shouto whimpers as he curls himself into the blond's strong frame. He's built a lot of muscle since starting at UA this year.

A strong hand rubs along his back and Shouto finds he can't hold back his tears any longer as the shock starts to set in.

Fuck he almost just killed himself.

"Thanks, Bakugo."

"I almost just watched you die, you can call me Katsuki."

"Thanks, Katsuki."

"No problem, Shouto."

The Bakusquad once again finds themselves playing a game on the common room floor, this time Sorry, much to Sero's chagrin.

"Sorry!" Kirishima grins cheekily as he kicks Sero's piece back to his home base.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck you guys-" He groans, flopping back onto the loveseat behind him, only to get an eyeful of Bakugo Katsuki's ass, "Oh hey Bakugou!"

"Wh- OI TAPE FACE WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE LOOKING-"

Sero snickers, patting Bakugou on the hip, "Sorry dude, it was literally right there."

Small explosions popped from Bakugo's hands as he growled down at Sero.

"Aw come on blasty he's just playing and WHERE are you going dressed like that???!!!"

Bakugo blushes and tugs his light blue blazer down farther.

"I have a date." He mutters, tugging his sleeves.

“Sorry,” Kaminari laughs, “I think I misheard you. Sounded like you said ‘I have a date.’”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “Because I do, dipshit.” He sighs, checking his -expensive-looking- watch, “Just watch the independent film awards when they’re on. I think it’s like four hours from now that it starts.”

“Whyyyy would you have anything to do with that?” Kirishima groans, very lost.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo grunts, digging his phone out of his pocket when it vibrates and checking something before humming and striding towards the front door.

He looks unusually elegant, hair slicked back probably as well as Bakugo’s hair can be, shirt tucked in, a few rings on his fingers, barely visible and yet beautifully drawn eyeliner. He’s… pretty.

The three remaining members of the Bakusquad, as well as the rest of the common room, sit there in awe as he shoves a permission slip in Iida’s blubbering face.

“I- Wh- Bakugo is this from Aizawa? You cannot just leave!!”

“Fuck off glasses, I have his fuckin’ blessing or whatever.”

“Bakugo!”

The blond shoots a middle finger off behind him and slams the door shut, leaving a stunned common room in his wake.

“Uh, well, that happened.” Jirou drones blandly from her place on the couch with Momo.

“Awards show watch party, anyone?!” Uraraka grins, standing, “I’ll get the mochi!!”

“I’ll make tea,” Momo stands as well, dusting off her perfectly clean jeans. Jirou groans at the loss of her girlfriend’s warmth and flops over on the couch.

“This is stupid, he probably got invited by some pro hero and he’s just going to yell at the paparazzi if he’s even gonna be there.” She pouts.

“Well,” Sero grins, “anyone wanna play Monopoly while we wait?”

Kaminari throws the Sorry board at his head.

“Alright, is everyone ready!!? The red carpet is about to start!!” Hagakure squeals, even though the entirety of class 3-A (minus Bakugo) is there.

“So… what exactly are we watching this for?” Shinsou scratches the back of his neck.

“Bakugo’s going to be in it apparently, the study group earlier saw him in the common room wearing a suit.” Ojiro answers.

“Not just a suit!!” Mina holds her hands out as if to deliver groundbreaking news, “A fancy suit.”

“Aren’t all suits fancy?”

“Shut up.”

“OOH LOOK there’s Arai Itō and Chiba Yoshida!! Aww, they’re so cute!” Uraraka swoons, clasping her hands together.

“I wonder when Kacchan is gonna come out, these things can take a while.”

“I honestly don’t even care, I heard Todoroki Shouto is nominated for an award this year!! Do you remember that really sad short film he was in about having an overdose? Gosh, I hope he wins.” Hagakure’s hair bow vibrates excitedly.

“THERE HE IS THERE HE IS!!!!!” She points at the bottom of the screen where a man in a pale blue dress has stepped out of a limo and onto the carpet, a heeled foot gracefully raising him to his full 6’2”.

“Holy shit he’s gorgeous.” Sero breathes, the reporters on screen basically saying the same thing.

Shouto reaches behind him and holds out a hand for the second person stepping out of the limo, broad shoulders, a shorter stature than Shouto especially with the heels, spiky blond hair, piercing red eyes-

…

“HOLY SHIT IS THAT BAKUGOU??”

The aerial camera pans down toward the blond, showing off his suit- which matches Shouto’s dress perfectly- and his, what appears to be professionally done hair.

“Holy shit does he have an undercut now!!?? We just saw him a few hours ago!” Mina screeches.

Momo shrugs, “They do that sort of thing for celebrities.” She sips her tea, unphased.

“Okay okay, we’re all ignoring the most important part. Kacchan is Todoroki’s date.” Izuku frantically waves his arms around.

“I didn’t know they knew each other,” Tokoyami muses.

“What the fuck is happening?” Sero asks no one in particular.

“Wait everyone SHUT UP they’re announcing awards!!!! Todoroki might win one! We can ask Bakugo about this when he gets back. Surely there’s an interesting story.” Uraraka chimes in, handing out mochi and popcorn.

The tv’s voice is muffled under the muttering of several class 3-A members, but Mina turns it up as the male announcer reads the winners of the award Todoroki is nominated for.

“AAAAAAAAND THE WINNER FOR BEST ACTOR IN A DRAMA SHORT ISSSSSSSSS…

TODOROKI SHOUTO!!! For his work in The End of Me and the incredible performance that shocked-”

Cheers ring through the dorms, popcorn goes flying, and Mina frantically shushes everyone as Shouto makes his way gracefully onto the stage. He accepts the award from the previous winner, bowing elegantly and stepping up to the mic.

“Hello everyone,” He begins, shooting a shy smile directly into the camera. It has always perplexed his fans how nervous he can be in real life compared to in his photoshoots. “This is a really important award to me, not only am I incredibly grateful to the panel for gracing this title upon me, but as of yesterday,” He smiles at the ground, taking a deep breath, “I’m two years clean.”

Shocked gasps ricochet through the award hall as well as through the crowd gathered around the tv.

“He did drugs, kero?” Tsu whispers.

“Mon dieux,” Aoyama shakes his head, pressing a hand to his chest, “how brave.”

Shouto clears his breath and continues, “In fact, that wasn’t the worst of it at the time, and I’m incredibly grateful to all who have supported me through my career. You keep me sane, and you keep me going. But especially, I’d like to thank my sister, brother, and my wonderful boyfriend-”

He holds an arm out to someone in the audience, and the camera pans to none other than Bakugou Katsuki, “who quite literally saved my life, and helped me drive myself back on track. I love you Katsuki, and you continue to improve my life every second that you’re in it.”

Most of 3-A are in tears at this point, and as Bakugo half-heartedly scowls into the camera, they can tell his eyes are shining too.

Shouto glances back at the camera as if directing his words to someone in particular.

“Thank you.”

And then he’s walking back down to his seat as the audience provides him with a standing ovation.

“THEY’RE DATING,” Mina sobs, shaking Kirishima’s shoulders as he sits, staring slack-jawed at the television.

“Yeah, yeah they are.”

Katsuki does NOT wipe tears from his eyes as he helps Shouto sit back down in his seat, but his boyfriend definitely does. His mascara, thankfully waterproof, still holds strong.

Shouto shoots him a watery smile, rubbing his arm as he pulls the blond into a hug.

“Happy two years, Katsuki.”

65 notes · View notes

wolfsneedles · 3 years

Text

im sorry but otis and maeve exacerbate the goodness and badness both in each other and this makes them special and more connected with their glimpses, gestures and inability to stay away for longer. unless ur telling me there are other superior ships too but the ending of s3 ep7 was so so special. Otis and Maeve's ending lines in the rain scene is pretty PRETTY indicative of who at least should be with whom, when its always been them in each others mind. Now idk what would writers do or make of it in s4 and cliffhanger like ending, but all love interests added were poorly added and gave us false hope for both characs to be with someone else like isaac/ruby thing, however the entire thing as eric says too, "happened bcs of otis and maeve coming together with special diff traits and bonds to form the best clinic that offers pretty feasible and amateur like opinions which in turn polished otis' skills of helping people more and also for maeve who was already pretty smart and bright ahead of her times, in her speech and tastes" and this was entire reason and beginning of the best season which led to clinical education, awareness for teenagers while otis and maeve also navigate through each others lives and troubles and love and ways of communicating since both have a different way of communicating and both adhere to each other and also give each other space more, (or maybe bcs i do prefer that ship more than others, im just so hyped at every scene and moment). However the best moment for me wasn't the bus scene kiss moment in france but when otis and maeve were both kicked out of sexed class for open and different opinions against or anti to whatever prude and harsh concepts Hope was instilling in people, a lot of ppl and characters owned up to their sexuality and rebelled but Otis and Maeve rejecting the idea and challenging and arguing but then also being kicked out of class is very special moment and a parallel between them that so many perhaps don't notice, It also tells how differently in choices, they are so connected in thoughts, Maeve never shrugged off otis and he doesn't bother her only and until they both knew they couldn't really stay away and he made an effort even after f_cking up to stay in his life, and apologized and competed rather foolishly with isaac but all this bottled down again to ruby and isaac just used for story development and then removed from scenes but in a way i think, it is best for them since otis and maeve are both confused about each other & overall relationships, i think they both would take things v slowly and they are that kind of patient couple if they are a couple.....which i cant see hope of. It all actually just started from them too, which led to graffitis and sexual topics to be embraced and accepted more, bcs idk if someone also noticed how otis has so much of jean in him, and even if he is embarrassed by his mother sometimes, the genes just reflect in him. He is good at articulating and smooth and i think maeve picks it up quickly, they don't even guess when they are together, and they both have innate desire to help ppl esp maeve under that hard rock shell of an exterior, she is the most selfless and forgiving person, maybe too much, and lets go of a lot of stuff, always looks forward to future and is quite pragmatic even but in sense of otis, they both are always inexplicably drawn and held together to each other by some bitter false or sweet ripe memory of their previous days and its so funny or adorable to see them actually cling foolishly to their past encounter messages, moments, talks, and dreams/jokes of having a clinic. We see eric as bestfriend of Otis rooting for them too, and so does Aimee (which is weak evidence or parallel since writers are putting hints like this always but it is always jeopardized somehow in the end too so im not hoping or keeping too high hopes on anything).

The rain moment in s3ep7 is the most heart-warming because maeve now doesn't push otis back and neither does she falls back on isaac somehow, and she welcomes his opinion again, only this time they actually confess in pretty open words & expressions which is more meaningful and rigorous and sparkling than the RainmomentInFrance which i think was, meaningless or maybe just a way to bring them close together.

You cannot tell me this is excellent dialogue exchange and yet so simple with breath your name by Sixpence playing in the BG,

Otis: "It was never about the clinic, it was to be close to you – and even if we aren't romantically together, id like to see you everyday, Nothing feels right when you aren't here"

This is more about companionship and soulmate-ism too than just a sexual relationship or deep crush situation. Even if they aren't together romantically, and still wanting to be close to her is big big thing & detail for at least something good and warm for them in future, because he hasn't confessed this to anyone or ruby even which was initially a casual relationship even. This explains pretty well that even if they aren't together or intended to be together, - the staying close + together or near each other is enough to make day.

Maeve: "It wasn't about the money for me, it was also to be close to you too

Maeve doesn't say much but a) smiles when he says we can be team and due to nearness to her he wanted to work on further and b).she exclaims and rebuts his claim that she was in it for money only when she has never been lucky in family/financial dept and wanted to be close to her too, but also how this was method for her to earn money too so like double benefit because maeve does need money and we cannot reduce her to romantic person only but the hardworking intelligent and practical persona she carries and embodies! and wants to rise academically and also does it selflessly, doesn't obstruct or infringe on someone's rights like most people do. But she also does admit at the same time it wasnt just for the money. With the background music score this moment might be the best cliché end or romantic confession even if in future it doesn't mean much because words...are winds and fade away, but i cannot deny the canon visible goodness these both characters bring out in one another, its like they do compliment and fit each other which i always find quite evident from s1 until s2 made their friendship too sour but its about what they bring in each other and only think abt themselves in each others presence. When they are with someone else they think about other things clouding their mind yet sometimes when they talk to each other, its like they both do comfort each other or it wouldn't have pained the writers to show how visibly hateful they are if they were. Perhaps the abortion moment in s1 was also very warm and changed my mind so much abt them, its like how otis is always there in worse situations for maeve along with aimee too ofc, and sometimes its childish to see him try so hard and desperate to be there but she eventually lets him in.

#sex ed meta #sex education netflix #sex education spoilers #sex ed s3 #sex ed season 3 #sex ed 3 #sex education #sex ed netflix #sex ed #maeve wiley #otis milburn #this isnt pro ship discussion either but how they bring the best in each other regardless of shortcomings and #dick like attitude of otis initially which almost every charac had #but the chemistry in this one isn't in s3 only it was always there and it just got dim and buried #i feel most excited when i see them #and thankful to writers for not giving us enough screentime for them huh so...#maeve x otis #otis x maeve #sex education s3

40 notes · View notes

hongism · 3 years

Text

under my skin - khj x jwy 18+

pairing; jung wooyoung x kim hongjoong genre; pwp, smut, 18+ wc; 7.2k summary; wooyoung should never have admitted that he liked hongjoong bossing him around, and he most definitely shouldn't have done it so publicly. aka hongjoong knows how to get under his skin and god damn if he doesn't do it fucking well. warnings; explicit smut, fingering, oral sex: m, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation and humiliation if you squint a/n; hi 😳 so uh this was an impulse writing moment whoopsie but also yeah this is my first mxm work as well as my first mxm smut so yeehaw im going all out on the first one huh :’D as always feedback is appreciated esp since this is something new to me and idek if it did it well 😳

On the list of things Wooyoung knows he definitely should not have done, openly admitting that he is both attracted to Hongjoong and enjoys it when the leader bosses him around on a Christmas live of all things is at the very top.

“He was just sitting on the couch, and I was about to go back to my room then he goes ‘Hey Wooyoung, get my meal ready’. I thought ‘this is the first time someone has treated me like this’. It was — it was attractive.”

Seonghwa’s eyes had flashed with panic the moment the words left Wooyoung’s mouth, clearly picking up on exactly what he meant behind those words. He managed to bite out a strained and awkward laugh that grated against Wooyoung’s ears for far too long. Then, if he hadn’t done enough damage, not even two minutes later was he opening his mouth to spew some further nonsense after staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“In that instance, I was attracted to Hongjoong when he treated me badly.”

Except it was not merely that instance. It was – is – far more than that, and the coy smirk that had stretched over Hongjoong’s lips spilled the truth. That Hongjoong knew his power over Wooyoung well before he even admitted it.

That instance had indeed started it all, but Wooyoung does not know how he had spiraled with such haste and intensity. Sometimes, it isn’t even his fault. His body just reacts to something his hyung has said, and he has to force ugly thoughts to the front of his mind or grab the thing closest to him to conceal the raging boner he’s left with. Wooyoung distinctly remembers the first time it became a serious issue though.

It was during a dance practice, another one of those awfully late nights that had everyone on edge, and Wooyoung was already dizzy with exertion before Hongjoong even opened his mouth. Then Yunho and Mingi decided to start fucking around with the choreography and making funny faces at each other in the mirror. Wooyoung knew he was in for it the moment he saw Hongjoong’s normally soft and gentle features flash with a barely contained rage. Then Hongjoong reeled on the pair, eyes flashing a bit of anger as he told both boys off, before shifting back to face Wooyoung now. The younger had choked on his saliva just from the intense eye contact.

“Go reset the music, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks burn with shame to think back on it now because he had most definitely squeaked out the most pathetic “yes sir” known to all mankind and scampered over to the computer to do as told. He had to shove the palm of his hand down so hard against his growing erection that it physically hurt, but it got the job done, and that’s all Wooyoung could have hoped for in the heat of the moment. If anyone noticed his dramatic reaction or thought it to be odd, they decided to spare him the embarrassment and did not mention it.

Then came the practice a few weeks later when Hongjoong was working twice as hard as usual to prepare for awards season. Everything had to be squeaky clean for all the performances. That led to Wooyoung being both blessed and cursed by the sight of a certain Kim Hongjoong in an all too tight-fitting black tee with sleeves rolled up over his shoulders and sweat dripping from his chin to the floor.

Now Hongjoong may not be the most muscular or lean among the group, but god, Wooyoung was positively salivating at even the barest glimpse of tantalizing skin under that shirt. It felt wrong and dirty to thirst after his bandmate – his leader – in such a public way. Hongjoong made things ten times worse by shifting to look Wooyoung in the eyes, brow arched dangerously high and a sharp gleam to his eye that had Wooyoung sweating more than he was before.

“Hey Wooyoung, grab me a water.”

Just simple and straight to the point. Not even a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Wooyoung didn’t need one. He was rushing to follow the order like a good little boy in mere seconds, and the smirk Hongjoong awarded him with nearly made him blackout on the spot. A smart little quirk to one corner of his lips, the other side staying completely still. Hongjoong looked so mean and condescending in that moment, yet Wooyoung ate it right up without even batting a lash. His cock twitched to full attention behind the confines of his grey sweatpants, then he was moving out of the practice room at breakneck speed, desperate to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He had slammed the door behind him and flipped the lock with desperate fingers before stumbling towards the sink to splash his face with cold water. In the reflection of the mirror, he could see how red his face had gotten, the red hue deepened to a scarlet that was only accentuated by the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. Embarrassing. It was so fucking embarrassing to get off to the idea of Hongjoong bossing him around and being mean to him. Wooyoung had hoped that the water would quell him enough to bring him back to the practice room without being weak enough to jerk off in the company bathroom. Those hopes were dashed when the dastardly image of Hongjoong standing across from him with that cruel smirk floated to mind.

Wooyoung slipped his leaking member out and fucked the tight ring he formed with his hand at record-breaking speed, not stopping until he painted his fingers white with hot cum. And if not for thinking to lock the door, he would have been caught in the act too, because not even ten seconds later was someone knocking and banging at the door.

“Wooyoung? You good?”

Thank fuck it had just been San and not Hongjoong himself. If it were Hongjoong, then Wooyoung is certain that he would have caved and told the man exactly what he was doing without any resistance whatsoever.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just needed to pee! I’ll be out in a minute!”

He thought that that instance would be the worst of it.

Hongjoong proved him sorely wrong.

In fact, if anything, those instances seemed to increase in frequency. Hongjoong would corner him just to deliver a sharply-spoken order then grin as Wooyoung fervently followed the order without complaint or whining. Wooyoung would be forced to dart off to the nearest bathroom and cum into the palm of his hand to curb the raging horniness in his system. And after he was done, he would pull himself out of the bathroom with his head hung low in shame, not ever noticing the way Hongjoong stood not far off with that same smirk as always painting his pretty lips. If Wooyoung ever whispered a breathless “hyung, please” to himself while jerking off, then he would deny it with his dying breath because that would be too close to admitting how desperately he wants Hongjoong.

Such a stark contrast to how he behaves with Seonghwa, as San noted one day. Sure, Seonghwa would ask him to do things but Seonghwa would ask, accentuating his words with a ‘please’ and making sure to thank Wooyoung afterward. And Wooyoung would always whine no matter what Seonghwa would ask of him. The reason being — well, for two reasons actually. One: Seonghwa isn’t Hongjoong, and two: Wooyoung secretly (read very secretly) loves being ordered around like he’s not good for anything else.

The full admission on Vlive must have been the breaking point for both of them though. Hongjoong was trying to hide himself behind his hands as a faux sign of embarrassment, but Wooyoung could clearly see the curling smirk and hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw past those small fingers. It felt almost like Hongjoong could eat him alive on the spot, and Wooyoung would just roll over and let him.

Whatever Wooyoung had expected to happen after that fateful live left him sorely disappointed because Hongjoong did absolutely nothing. Didn’t comment on it, didn’t tease him about it, acted like it didn’t even happen. Even when Seonghwa granted him a sharp slap upside the back of the head and Yeosang muttered something about Wooyoung being into some kinky shit, Hongjoong huffed out a quiet laugh and led the way out of the room.

Was Wooyoung upset? Both yes and no. He saved himself from heaps of humiliation even though he admitted it in such a public manner, but he would be lying if he didn’t say that he was somewhat trying to egg Hongjoong on a little. All these months of teasing and playing only for him to do nothing? This had to be some sort of blue balling, at least that’s what Wooyoung whined into his pillow before Yeosang and Jongho entered the shared room behind him.

“Who’s blue balling who?”

“No one, Yeo! No one! I didn’t say that!”

Wooyoung is tipping closer and closer to his breaking point, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he absolutely snaps. That fact is what finds him hesitating by the back of the couch a few days after the aforementioned Fateful Vlive. Hongjoong sits on the cushions, arm slung casually behind his head as always, and Wooyoung is truly trying his hardest not to drool over the sheer attractiveness the position exudes. It doesn’t help that Hongjoong has been driving Wooyoung up a wall all day with his teasing.

First, it was light touches during breakfast, ghosting fingers over his bare forearm that sent goosebumps all over his body.

“Is something wrong, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong had asked like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“No, no, hyung. Just haven’t fully woken up yet.”

That was a lie but oh well. Wooyoung has lied about worse things in his life.

Then after breakfast, Hongjoong had leveled him with a sharp stare and ordered him to pick up the dishes for Seonghwa. Wooyoung didn’t even have time to jerk off in the bathroom afterward because San and Seonghwa dragged him off to play some game before he could make a hasty escape to the bathroom.

“You called for me, hyung?” Wooyoung manages to ask without a stutter to his tone. It’s a miracle truly because when Hongjoong’s voice boomed through the hallway and found him in the bedroom, Wooyoung almost melted.

“Yeah, get me some coffee from the kitchen.”

Now, if it were Seonghwa asking him, Wooyoung would whine and complain. Say that he’s on the fucking couch which is literal steps away from the kitchen and he has two perfectly (sexy) functioning legs that could easily get him a cup of coffee himself without needing to call Wooyoung all the way from his bedroom to get it for him. It is, in fact, not Seonghwa asking him, however; it is Hongjoong, and Wooyoung will be damned if he doesn’t obey the order without even a breath of complaint.

“Sure, of course, hyung!” He chirps in response to hide the shaky smile on his lips. His legs feel like jello but he puts them to use anyway, carrying his body to the kitchen to prepare a mug of coffee just the way Hongjoong likes because of course, he knows exactly how Hongjoong likes his coffee. Once he has finished perfectly preparing the drink, Wooyoung carries it back to the couch and goes as far as to step around the armrest to deliver the mug directly into Hongjoong’s hands.

“Good boy.”

The words are unmistakable. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung pulled his hand away when he did otherwise he would have most definitely dumped piping hot coffee all over Hongjoong without being able to stop himself.

“H-Huh!?”

Hongjoong blinks up from the rim of the ceramic mug. Not an ounce of shame coats his features. Wooyoung knows that hiding behind that cup is his trademark cruel smirk, and that sends him reeling.

“I said good job. You made it just the way I like.”

Wooyoung needs whatever deity or spirit or entity out there in the universe to backhand slap him to high heaven. Hongjoong did not say good job. He said good boy, loud and clear without so much as a stutter to his tone. Wooyoung stumbles back regardless and excuses himself with a hasty mumble about needing to go to the bathroom. He can only hope that his flustered state of embarrassment mixed with tingling humiliation is not as noticeable as it feels like it is.

“I wasn’t done with you.”

Wooyoung has to bite down on his tongue to keep from whimpering at the tone of Hongjoong’s voice combined with those words. He dares to glance back at Hongjoong over his shoulder. The leader is now on his feet, mug of coffee left forgotten on the table in front of the couch, and Wooyoung can find only a single word to describe the look in the man’s eyes.

Hungry.

“Go to my room. We need to talk in private.”

Wooyoung should experience a surge of panic – any normal person would be petrified to hear those words from their leader – but the words go directly to his dick instead. He whips his head forward once more and makes the short trek to the end of the hall without once looking back to see if Hongjoong is following him. He knows the man is though, the steady shuffle of socks on the wood floor tells him that much. Wooyoung half expects Seonghwa to be inside the room when he enters, ready to defend himself and say he has no clue what’s going on, but his taller hyung is nowhere to be found. Hongjoong doesn’t let Wooyoung stay distracted or confused for long; he trails a daring hand over the expanse of Wooyoung’s shoulders, lifting off at his bicep as he steps past the younger man to get into the room. He then drops to the edge of his mattress with blazing eyes and regards Wooyoung with a full-body stare.

“Shut and lock the door.”

There is so much potential behind those words. All the months of sexual tension and teasing and practical blue balling could all be paid off right now, and Wooyoung is not about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers. He jerks into action, spinning around and slamming the door shut with more force than is necessary, and the lock clicks into place a moment later.

“Hyung—”

“It’s always hyung, isn’t it?” Hongjoong taunts, cutting Wooyoung’s thought short. Frankly, Wooyoung has no clue what he was going to say anyway so thank goodness for Hongjoong interrupting him before he made a bigger fool of himself. Hongjoong pushes himself off the bed to step closer to Wooyoung. He closes the distance between them in a matter of seconds, and Wooyoung is still too slack-jawed to react even a little bit. “With Seonghwa hyung, you are always so whiny and bratty. Can’t do anything he says when he tells you to. Always need to talk back and mock him in return. But with hyung, you are so needy. Pliant. Obedient.”

Hongjoong is not bigger than Wooyoung. Not by much at least. He is hardly taller than him, but Wooyoung has shoulders that are a tad broader, features that are a bit sharper, and a face that is just naturally more stern when all his muscles are relaxed. But in this moment? Wooyoung feels impossibly small. Like Hongjoong is meters taller than him, bigger than him, stronger than him, better than him in all ways. His leader has power and control over him. He’s able to make him do whatever he wants with a simple command, and Wooyoung could combust from the mere thought. It gives him a sick rush, one that makes him want to get on his knees and beg for Hongjoong, but he won’t dare do that unless Hongjoong asks him to.

“What is it you want from hyung, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong catches a finger on the underside of his chin, lifting his head just enough so that he can look the other man in the eye. Wooyoung forgets every word in existence as he meets Hongjoong’s burning gaze. His jaw stutters, he blinks dumbly at the brunette, and nothing comes out of him. Hongjoong twists his finger into two now, squeezing down on either side of Wooyoung’s chin until the impact burns a little. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-You,” Wooyoung breathes out shakily. “I just — I want you.”

“That doesn’t sound quite right, darling.” The words catch Wooyoung a bit off-guard at first, and the use of the small pet name has his gut blossoming with too much warmth to be normal. Hongjoong tugs him closer just to drape his pretty lips over the curve of Wooyoung’s ear. Hot breath sends shivers down his spine, and Wooyoung does his best to keep his knees from buckling when Hongjoong speaks again. “That doesn’t sound like the begging I hear coming from the bathroom so often these days.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks are alight with both embarrassment and shame. Hongjoong heard him. Heard him jerking off quietly in the bathroom after every single time he taunted the younger man. Heard his desperate pleas and wishes that it were his hyung touching him and not the warmth of his own shameful hand. Hongjoong pulls back to look him in the eye again, but this time it feels ten times more intimate and inviting.

“Try again, baby. And this time, tell me a safe word so I know when to stop.”

Oh, Wooyoung is fucked, and he’s fucked in more ways than one, that’s for certain.

“I, uh, red. Yeah, red. Red for stop, green for go,” he rambles while blinking like a madman. Hongjoong huffs out a dry laugh.

“That’s step one,” he says, tone as even and steady as ever. “Now tell me what it is you want from me, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung truly wishes he could put up more of a fight. He wants to complain or whine or be even a little bit of a brat in response rather than just caving without pressure. Yet here stands Hongjoong, maintaining that iron-tight hold over him without the slightest bit of effort and forcing Wooyoung into complete and utter submission with a simple command.

“W-Want hyung to – to kiss me and tell me that I’m his good boy. Want him to stuff my mouth full of cock and fingers until I can’t speak be-because I talk too much. And for him to order me around l-like it’s the only thing I’m good for. T-Talk down to me and – and humiliate me because it feels good when hyung taunts me. I… I r-really want hyung to fuck me open and use me until he’s filled me to the brim with cum.” Hongjoong’s pupils are dangerously large, so blown out with lust and desire that Wooyoung feels himself slipping deeper and deeper into their embrace. Even though the words came from his lips and he spoke them into existence, it feels as though Hongjoong reached down his throat and pulled them out himself. It has to be that because otherwise, Wooyoung would not have the confidence to be so bold about his desires.

“Look at you,” Hongjoong sneers. His tone turns mocking in the blink of an eye, and it causes Wooyoung so much whiplash that his head actually spins even though he hasn’t moved an inch. Hongjoong’s free hand snakes downward, finding the jutted bone of Wooyoung’s hip and brushing over it in a taunting way. The leader caresses the soft band of his underwear, then suddenly Wooyoung is positively choking because the man cups the prominent bulge of his erection and gives a teasing squeeze. “So hard just from following orders? Are you so pathetic and desperate to be a good little boy that you would do this for anyone? Or is it only hyung?”

“J-Just hyung,” Wooyoung squeaks out, pressing his thighs together to alleviate some of the growing pressure in his underwear. That answer isn’t enough to satisfy Hongjoong though, and he tugs a bit harder at the younger’s chin.

“Which one? Last I checked, you had more than one hyung.”

“You! You, hyung. Hongjoong hyung.”

“Good boy,” comes the taunting coo from Hongjoong’s lips. Wooyoung really does whimper this time, lower lip jutting out as he releases the shaky sound, and he practically falls in on himself. He probably would too if Hongjoong weren’t holding him so tightly. “If I had known that would have such a strong effect over you, I would’ve said it much sooner.”

There’s a certain insinuation to his words, one that tells Wooyoung that Hongjoong has been purposefully riling him up for a long while now. Hongjoong drops his chin and lets his hand fall away from the other’s cock. Wooyoung misses the pressure immediately, reaching down to replace the hand with one of his own, but Hongjoong slaps the back of his wrist harshly.

“Don’t you want to be good?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” That little word slips out against his will. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide for half a second before settling back into their steady, hungry stare. When he smiles this time, it is a full and blinding gesture that has Wooyoung’s stomach doing little somersaults. That must be the boiling point for Hongjoong’s desire though; next thing Wooyoung knows, Hongjoong has a hand clasped tight around the back of his neck and the man is yanking him forward until their lips collide in a mess of teeth and saliva. It feels positively filthy, but Wooyoung takes it in stride. He lets a surprised moan slip through, and Hongjoong swallows the sound with his mouth, tongue not wasting any time in dancing over Wooyoung’s lip. The younger grants him access to his waiting mouth. His jaw falls slack and his tongue would probably loll out if Hongjoong were not pressing so fervently against him at the moment.

Wooyoung truly is fully pliant before Hongjoong, and he can’t even get his arms to function enough to wrap around the older. So he just stands there, applying an ample amount of pressure to Hongjoong’s lips when the other isn’t fucking his tongue into his mouth, and waits until Hongjoong pulls back to breathe. As it turns out, he doesn’t get much time to catch his breath because his hyung’s mouth and hands are back on him moments later.

Cold hands brush at the skin near Wooyoung’s hips, slipping under the fabric of his shirt to gain more access. Hongjoong mouths his way down to Wooyoung’s jaw where he nips and sucks gently at the skin. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but something tells Wooyoung that the marking will come later. The older hoists his shirt up, tugging and pulling until it’s over Wooyoung’s head and tossed off to the side. Seonghwa will most likely complain later. Although if this is going the direction Wooyoung thinks it is, Seonghwa will have many other things to complain about so he doesn’t dwell on it much.

Besides, Hongjoong’s hands are far too distracting for that, currently tracing soft patterns over the expanse of Wooyoung’s exposed skin until dipping lower to grab both his sweatpants and underwear in one go. Wooyoung helps him tug the material down and bends a bit at the waist to fully discard the garments. He finally processes how he is now fully nude and Hongjoong has not taken even an ounce of clothing off, and when that sinks in, embarrassment burns at his skin. He withdraws his hands to his body, curling tight around his waist in a desperate attempt to cover himself up. Hongjoong is still attached to his jaw by the lips, but he can feel the movements between their bodies enough to know what is going on.

Fingers latch around Wooyoung’s forearms.

“Sweet angel, you have no need to cover up around me,” Hongjoong murmurs against his skin. His hot breath meeting the cool trail of saliva over Wooyoung’s jaw causes goosebumps to rush over his body, along with the sudden lack of clothes to keep him even a tiny bit warm. “Let me show you how pretty you are.”

Hongjoong pulls off his neck with a wet pop and steps an arm’s width away. He makes a full show out of the way he strips himself. Splayed fingers drag down his sides before catching on the hem of his shirt. Inch by inch, he exposes more supple skin, lean muscles straining and working under the movements, and when he tugs his shirt loose at last, Wooyoung ogles the way the tendons in his neck bulge a bit. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe though because Hongjoong fumbles with the buckle of his belt and tugs the leather loose. He doesn’t toss it off to join their shirts off to the side; rather, he throws it onto the bed, eyes holding something that leaves Wooyoung with the sweet taste of anticipation. Although that might just be the taste of Hongjoong on his tongue because he is still dizzy from the short kiss. He continues to stand as still as a statue as Hongjoong tugs his pants down, thumbs hooked around the band of his underwear too. Slowly but surely, the man exposes himself to Wooyoung, and the younger would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t go straight to Hongjoong’s cock.

It’s a bit shameful to admit, but Wooyoung has spent many times in those frequent bathroom trips fantasizing about what Hongjoong might look like underneath all those clothes. Seeing each other nude is something that happens often; however, Hongjoong always makes a habit of taking showers last or coming home so late that no one can see him. Wooyoung initially thought that it was an, for lack of a better term, insecurity about size deficit but looking at him like this now, Wooyoung can clearly see that that is not the case.

He’s a bit thicker than Wooyoung, not so much longer, but definitely holding more girth and curve to his member. A lump rises in Wooyoung’s throat at the thought of finally having the man in his mouth among other places. He has to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep from openly drooling over the sight of Hongjoong’s body. The bit of solidarity in being fully nude helps Wooyoung’s confidence quite a bit, but it’s Hongjoong’s next comment that sends him spiraling.

“I wonder how pretty my little Wooyoung would look on his knees for me, hm?” His little Wooyoung. Yeah, Seonghwa is gonna have to cart Wooyoung’s dead body out of this bedroom once this is all said and done, because he is close to a heart attack as it is and Hongjoong has hardly done anything. Hongjoong picks up on the way Wooyoung’s breath hitches at those words and lets that dangerous smirk slip through before turning back to his bed. He moves to it without hesitation, and Wooyoung just watches on without daring to move before he is told to, eyes wide with curiosity as Hongjoong pulls a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor. In the same motion, Hongjoong props himself on the edge of the mattress and nods his head towards the pillow. Wooyoung’s brain doesn’t process the action quick enough because he stands there with a dumbfounded expression on his face for far too long before it sinks in that oh Hongjoong wants him to kneel between his legs on a pillow.

He moves towards the bed on shaky legs, all but collapsing on the pillow once he reaches it, and Hongjoong greets him by dropping a hand to his hair and carding his fingers through the dark locks there. His hair has grown a bit, just enough to have his bangs fall into his eyes whenever the hair isn’t tucked back. Hongjoong tucks a few of the stray locks behind his ear before reaching lower to cup Wooyoung’s chin in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want another command, baby boy?” Now that has Wooyoung’s gut turning every which way, and he nearly squirms where he sits because goddammit there is not enough pressure on his cock and he is nearing desperation.

“Y-Yes, hyung.”

“Then suck me off, yeah? I bet you’d look so pretty all wrecked and fucked out with a cock between your lips.” Those words are oh so sinful and go directly to Wooyoung’s gut, knocking the air out of him with ease. Hongjoong doesn’t stop there though. He curls his fingers up to press against Wooyoung’s lower lip where he teases and tugs at the skin until it’s swollen. Wooyoung drops his jaw to let those same fingers push down hard against his tongue, and he almost gags at the sensation, but fuck, it’s so worth it. Hongjoong’s fingers are heavy on his tongue, a steady and tantalizing weight that begs what is to come with his member. Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to swirl his tongue between the digits and takes them a bit deeper. He sucks softly at Hongjoong’s skin all while blinking up at the man, his leader, his hyung with wide and shining eyes.

When Wooyoung locks gazes with him, he could cry on the spot because that little half-hearted smirk is back on his lips, and this is exactly what Wooyoung fantasized about in these past weeks. Being leveled only with that stare, forced into submission with mere words — Wooyoung is truly living the dream.

Hongjoong retracts his hand, pulling his fingers loose of Wooyoung’s lips too soon for the latter’s liking, but he doesn’t have room or time to complain. A hand threads through the hair at the back of his neck and drags him forward until Wooyoung is met by Hongjoong’s fully erect member. The unspoken command is there but still Wooyoung waits until he gets the verbal one, so desperate to be told what to do in that condescending tone Hongjoong holds.

“Well, go on. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s cheeks could not possibly flush any darker, but if Hongjoong keeps this up, he might just find a way. The burning sting in the corners of his eyes is practically euphoric, the taste of humiliation on his tongue as he leans forward to give a single, testing lick to the head of Hongjoong’s cock, and Wooyoung is the one to moan when he closes his lips around Hongjoong. The older simply lets his head fall back, hand still tangled in Wooyoung’s hair as he begins to sink deeper on his cock.

Hongjoong tastes of sweat, a stark saltiness on his tongue as he gets about halfway down his member, but Wooyoung’s brain is so high on arousal that he also tastes somewhat sweet. Wooyoung can’t get enough of it. He drags the flat of his tongue over the underside of Hongjoong’s member, feeling for each vein and ridge along his shaft as though trying to memorize the feel. Hongjoong grips Wooyoung’s hair a little tighter. His nails scrape over the younger’s scalp, and a distinctly pleasant burn throbs in that same spot. The idea of Hongjoong’s dainty, painted nails dragging over his skin is too much for his imagination, and Wooyoung reaches a hand up to grasp the base of Hongjoong’s cock before sinking as far down on him as he can go. He chokes around him there, throat pulsing at the sensation of the tip pushing deeper, and Hongjoong releases a loud groan. The sound sends a surge of confidence through Wooyoung along with the knowledge that he drew that noise out of Hongjoong, he made him feel good, he did a good job. He whines weakly around Hongjoong, sucking in as much air through his nose as he can, then he returns to bobbing his head along the length of him.

“Fuck, look at you. Somehow still so noisy even with a cock to keep you busy,” Hongjoong mumbles, biting back another groan. Wooyoung squirms thanks to the words and sneaks a hand down to palm at his weeping cock. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” Hongjoong spats the words with such vehemence that a bit of spit slips from his lip and catches on Wooyoung’s hair. If he didn’t jerk his hand away from his cock, Wooyoung might have cum right then and there because of how damn hot the action is.

Hongjoong tugs hard at the younger’s hair and pulls him off his cock, leaving only a thin strand of saliva to connect Wooyoung to his member. The sight is as intoxicating for Hongjoong as it is for Wooyoung because the older hisses between his teeth then descends to plant a kiss directly over Wooyoung’s lips. He kisses back with a hunger and fervor that begs for more, begs for Hongjoong to do more, and it seems that that is exactly what the elder has in mind because he hoists Wooyoung up enough to trade places with him on the bed.

Wooyoung finds himself splayed out on the bed with Hongjoong looming over him, hair fallen forward to shroud his forehead and eyebrows, and he can safely say that his hyung looks positively menacing in the best way possible. Hongjoong presses a single gentle kiss to the tip of Wooyoung’s nose – an action that has his heart constricting painfully in his chest before Hongjoong drags his lips down the curve of his cheek. He mouths at the sharp edge of the younger’s jaw, letting out a quiet exhale that has Wooyoung shivering. He dares to be bold enough to bring a hand to the older’s hair as Hongjoong reaches the curve of his neck and bites at the skin there.

“F-Fuck, Hong — hyung,” Wooyoung whimpers, hips bucking up to meet nothing but air. Hongjoong presses the heel of his hand down hard against Wooyoung’s hip and keeps him pinned to the bed with that simple touch. The way Wooyoung unravels under him is nothing short of beautiful and mesmerizing, the perfect catastrophe to watch unfold piece by piece until he is writhing and begging with his body for more. The younger doesn’t even see Hongjoong move his arm, but when he sits back, he holds a small bottle of lube in his hand, lid popping open to squirt the clear liquid over two fingers.

“Color?”

“Green,” Wooyoung exhales quickly. “So fucking green, hyung, please just hurry up.” Hongjoong arches a brow then clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You waited weeks for me to corner you like this. I think you can wait a little bit longer.”

“If you recall, I was jerking off in the bathroom begging for you to fuck me senseless every other day, so no. I don’t think I can wait any longer,” Wooyoung huffs out in response, resituating a bit on the bed so Hongjoong can spread him open properly. The other man bends over him with teeth flashing as he grins. He catches Wooyoung’s lobe between those same teeth and nips at the skin until Wooyoung moans loudly.

“Next time you try to do that I’ll be sure to follow you. And maybe make you scream a bit for good measure. You’d do that for hyung, wouldn’t you?” Hongjoong sinfully enunciates the word, and it affects Wooyoung so much that his vision goes spotty for a few seconds.

Fuck, Wooyoung is not going to survive. His heart is gonna give out before he can even get fucked. Hongjoong chuckles under his breath as he gauges the younger’s reaction. His lubed fingers slip between Wooyoung’s legs and trail lower until he brushes over his puckered hole. He starts with just one finger, pushing into Wooyoung so slowly that the younger thinks he’s gonna die of old age by the time Hongjoong finally settles the digit inside him. He squirms a little under the man’s weight.

“I’m not gonna break, hyung. You can go harder than that.”

“And I will. Be patient.” Wooyoung lets his body go slack at the sound of that; it’s a half-hearted command at best but still a command nonetheless, and it continues to have the same dastardly effect over him as always. Hongjoong continues to wiggle his finger around bit by bit until he deems Wooyoung comfortable enough for another, and the next stretch is so pleasant that Wooyoung’s lashes flutter as he pushes a second finger in.

“Hyung,” he whispers, tone so breathless that it almost sounds like just a sigh and nothing else. Hongjoong lifts his chin to look the younger in the eye.

“Hm? What it is my baby wants?” There Hongjoong goes again with that little possessive word that has Wooyoung melting under him.

“Want – want you to kiss me please.”

Hongjoong answers by dropping his lips atop Wooyoung’s, starting out with a barely-there pressure that only grows in force as he starts to fuck his fingers in and out of Wooyoung. The younger can only gasp and moan into the kiss. He forgets what it means to be quiet as the pleasure takes over, too lost in the sensation of Hongjoong’s lips and body and everything. They’ll surely get an earful later, but Wooyoung is not about to let them take this away from him so he is going to be as loud as possible while he can.

A third finger finds its way into Wooyoung. It draws an even louder moan from his lips, the pads of Hongjoong’s fingers brushing just shy of that elusive spot where he wants to be touched so badly.

“P-Please, please fuck me, hyung. I can’t – I can’t wait any longer, I just n-need you in me now.”

Apparently, Wooyoung should have led with that because Hongjoong almost growls and pulls his fingers out of Wooyoung, snatching up the lube again and squirting more onto his palm. He jerks hastily at his cock and warms the liquid on his member before guiding himself to Wooyoung’s eagerly awaiting hole. When Hongjoong at last starts pushing into Wooyoung, the younger sees stars in his vision and his brain empties of all coherent thought. It is everything that he could have dreamed of and better, for fuck’s sake, it’s the best feeling Wooyoung has ever felt in his life and he might cum after just a single thrust of Hongjoong’s hips.

He manages – by sheer miracle for certain – to last a bit longer than that. Hongjoong starts slow, rocking his hips gently against the backs of Wooyoung’s thighs. In time though, the pace grows until it’s hasty and absolutely brutal. Wooyoung can barely catch his breath long enough to moan between thrusts with the speed Hongjoong keeps up. Skin slaps hard against skin and leaves the lewd sound to resonate alongside Wooyoung’s high-pitched moans and Hongjoong’s much softer grunts.

Words continue to tumble from Wooyoung’s lips in the height of his pleasure, but it’s just nonsensical ramblings that range from “more, more, fucking more” to “yes, hyung, there, right there”. He grips desperately at the sheets under his body in a desperate attempt to ground himself from the dizzying amount of euphoria running through his veins. Every nerve in his body is alight with all sorts of sensations, and despite still not having cum once, Wooyoung truly feels like he’s being overstimulated to absolute filth.

He doesn’t even feel it when he actually does reach his high – cock twitching and spurting hot ropes of cum over his stomach completely untouched by either himself or Hongjoong. It’s almost embarrassing how easily Hongjoong made him orgasm; Wooyoung brings his hands up to cover his reddened face in the humiliation of the action. A choked and dry sob rips through his parched throat, cock weeping uselessly against the vee of his abdomen.

“F-Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful,” Hongjoong grunts through his thrusts. Wooyoung’s body reacts on its own, preening at the sound of the praise despite his neverending embarrassment. That sends Hongjoong over the edge right then and there. His hips stutter in their quick thrusts, then he’s pressing flush against Wooyoung and cumming hard in him. His elbows buckle, causing him to topple on top of Wooyoung’s chest and smear the semen painting his stomach and chest. It doesn’t seem to bother the man one bit though as he just lifts his chin and drapes his lips over Wooyoung’s like the softest and warmest blanket on a cold day.

They stay like that for too long probably, just kissing and nipping at each other’s lips in the laziest manner, and Wooyoung doesn’t even mind when the cum between them starts to grow sticky. He releases a content sigh as Hongjoong slips his lips back down to the underside of his jaw – apparently his favorite place to kiss given how much he’s done so already – and dares to speak.

“Good talk, hyung,” he rasps out, throat burning from the mere effort of the words.

“The fact that you had the balls to say something while we were live but not the first hundred times I cornered you,” Hongjoong grumbles against his skin, and Wooyoung huffs out a weak laugh.

“You could’ve interrupted my, erm, bathroom trips at any time.” Wooyoung smiles a bit to himself and draws a hand up to comb through Hongjoong’s sweat-slick hair.

“Next time I will.”

“N-Next time?”

“I can think of many other ways I’d like to have you, and many other things I’d like to do to you. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Yep! Yes, yeah, you got it, sign me up, I am on board. Don’t even need to convince me,” Wooyoung rambles, cheeks flushing dark again at the insinuation in Hongjoong’s words.

“Good. Now, let’s get cleaned up before Seonghwa gets back.”

“Where’d you send him off to anyways?”

“I just told him we were gonna talk and he disappeared.” Hongjoong shrugs as he pulls his body free of Wooyoung’s and climbs to his feet, albeit on shaky legs. The younger tilts his head to the side with a bit of confusion gracing his features.

“That’s all it took?”

“Well, I told him I would be doing a majority of the talking and it would include my mouth doing positively sinful things to your body, but… we had a change of plans, didn’t we?” Hongjoong glances down at Wooyoung, passing a teasing wink his way, and for the last time (at least Wooyoung hopes it is the last time otherwise he really will pass out) his lips curl into that signature smirk.

“We can make up for it in the shower.”

...

#ateez smut #ateez mxm #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #wooyoung x hongjoong #hongjoong x wooyoung #wooyoung smut #hongjoong smut #wooyoung imagines #hongjoong imagines #wooyoung oneshot #hongjoong oneshot #sweet baby jesus #fic; under my skin

367 notes · View notes

immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

Text

IOTA Reviews: Gang of Secrets

Well... I'll give this episode one thing. It's better than what we got from both “Truth” and “Lies”, and it did do one of the things I hoped the writers would tackle this season. That's not saying much, but I'll take what I can get.

Let's get into the fourth (chronologically the third) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Gang of Secrets

We start off right after an Akuma battle, and while Cat Noir is eager for their victory fist bump, Ladybug seems to be on edge, insisting that they go on patrol. Cat Noir thinks of a place that they can relax at without talking... and he chooses to take Ladybug to see a romantic comedy.

We're not even a minute in, people, and it already looks like Ladybug is considering using her authority as Guardian to take away Cat Noir's Miraculous.

Ladybug goes on a brief tangent summarizing what happened with Luka (which conveniently happens to reflect the events of the movie), and naturally isn't happy with the movie. Gee, it's almost like Cat Noir's plan was a bad idea. He seriously tries the whole “pretend to yawn as an excuse to put his arm around Ladybug” trick, so you can't tell me he didn't have romantic intentions here.

Why Kagami couldn't accept Adrien's “true self” is beyond me.

After storming out of the movie theater, Cat Noir tries to emphasize with Ladybug (key word being “tries”) by going on about how “he knows what a broken heart is like”. At least he didn't ask if she was single now. Ladybug decides to go for a swim, but we cut back to Marinette's house, with Ladybug in her aqua form, implying she went to the pool while still transformed. And here's a big problem with the episode. In theory, I like the idea of Marinette stressing over her new responsibilities, as it could lead to some interesting plotlines. The problem is that when we get something like that in this episode, it's played entirely for laughs. At one point, Alya mentions hearing Marinette crying in the bathroom because of the stress she's been going through. And instead of being a dramatic scene, she just runs out in some Groucho Marx glasses for some reason, because according to the writers, we're supposed to laugh at Marinette suffering from a potential mental breakdown.

This just raises several questions about the way we're supposed to treat Marinette's behavior in this episode. Are we supposed to take this seriously? Not completely, because of how a lot of the “jokes” in the first act of the episode revolve around Marinette's anxiety being driven up to eleven. Are we supposed to see all of this as a joke? Not completely, because the end of the episode is when the writers decide to take Marinette's inner demons seriously. It leads to a very conflicting picture the episode is trying to paint with the way Marintte's conflict is portrayed.

We then cut to what seems to be the only thing the writers like to do with this character now, Alya acting like has control over Marinette's love life.

Of course those are the only pictures Alya got of Marinette.

Uh... Alya? Honey? Have you even considered the fact that maybe Marinette didn't tell you about Luka because that's none of your damn business??? What gives you the right to know every single detail about your friend's life? I understand that you're a hardcore Adrienette shipper (and an unintentional metaphor for how obsessed the writers are with the Love Square), but why would Marinette be obligated to tell you about Luka?

I know that I asked Marinette if she told Alya about Luka in my “Truth” review, but that was because she continued to force the belief that Marinette still liked Adrien onto her. Yeah, I'm still confused as to why Marinette didn't tell Alya, but the difference is that I was more confused at her not explaining it, and felt it would have made the conflict in the New York special a lot easier. I don't think Marinette has to tell Alya, I just think it would make some things easier between them with how much Alya wants Adrienette to be canon. Marinette has no obligation to tell Alya anything about who she's dating. What goes on in someone's love life is a private matter, and we'll see that Alya has no regards for privacy.

Alya, along with Juleka, Rose, Mylene, and Alix, devises a plan to give Marinette a friendship bracelet to show their support for her. And as usual, Alix has the simple idea to talk to Marinette about what's going on with her, and of course, she's ignored. Sorry, Alix, but this is an Alya episode, where smart choices don't fly here.

We cut back to Marinette's room where we get a pretty good scene where Marinette confides to Tikki about how she knows she has no chance of having a love life. She points out how she had to end things with Luka because of her secrets, and knows that even if she worked up the courage to talk to Adrien, she couldn't do anything because of the same secrets. She can't tell her parents or friends about her secrets and is forced to lie to everyone all the time. The voice actress gives a good performance, and the animators did a good job rendering the red eyes Marinette gets from crying.

And then we get back to the stupid stuff, where Marinette decides to transform into Ladybug and demands Hawkmoth (even though he's Shadowmoth at this point) show himself. This is really just an excuse for the Girl Squad to barge into Marinette's room, where Rose sees the dollhouse Marinette uses to hide the Miracle Ball. Marinette quickly runs back in and tries to hide the the Miracle Ball from her friends, who confront her about her “problem”.

No, real friends respect boundaries and don't demand to know every single detail about someone's life. They understand that there are secrets they don't have the right to know about. If Alya found out that Alix still needs to sleep with a nightlight and told everyone, would you really be surprised if she got mad at Alya for exposing this secret of hers? Right now, Marinette is clearly uncomfortable about telling her friends about a secret she has, and rather than understand she doesn't want to, they just keep pressing on, and don't care how unhappy she looks.

Unsurprisingly, Marinette tells them all to get out, saying she doesn't want them as friends anymore. Okay, so we're in every salt fic ever written now. Again, we get a good scene where Marinette feels remorseful for what she said (as understandable as it was), while the girls leave with their heads down.

Shadowmoth sends out an Akuma for the friendship bracelet, and because the object had personal meaning to all of them, Alya, Juleka, Rose, Mylene, and Alix all get akumatized into their previous Akuma forms, Lady Wifi, Reflekta (yet again), Princess Fragrance, Horrificator, and Timebreaker respectively. Shadowmoth calls them the “Gang of Secrets”. But they were akumatized because of secrets. Wouldn't a more accurate name be something like “The Honesty Brigate” or “Truth Troop?”

When I reviewed “Felix”, I had talked about how the motivations for the three Punishers weren't didn't reflect their Akuma forms, which were twisted versions of what they were feeling like at the time. While the same thing applies here (as well as “Heroes' Day”, now that I think about it, though I always thought it was like a drawback to Scarletmoth's powers), the titular Gang of Secrets is actually a pretty good lineup.

I think my main problem in “Felix” is that we didn't get to see the three Akumas working together much because the writers were trying to prioritize Felix as the primary threat of the episode and failed miserably. Here, we get to see a lot of interesting combos and strategies I never really thought about. Lady Wifi uses her powers to freeze some civilians while Timebreaker skates by and absorbs their energy for her skates. Reflekta zaps some other civilians while Princess Fragrance sprays them with her perfume to brainwash them into looking for Marinette, even if it’s the only time this episode that we get to hear “At your service, Princess Fragrance~!”. Horrificator intentionally goes around scaring people while growing in size, acting as the muscle (even though she doesn't do anything in this episode). They all work surprisingly well together, acting like Ladybug and Cat Noir's own Sinister Six.

After making a new safe to hide the Miracle Ball, Lady Wifi breaks into Marinette's room again, so Trixx, the Fox Kwami, uses his power to create a mirage to distract her. But like when Plagg used his Cataclysm in “Style Queen”, it has a little drawback.

The funny thing is that this doesn't even crack the top 5 in terms of weirdest things to happen to the Eiffel Tower in this show.

We cut to Adrien's room so the show can remind the audience he exists before he transforms into Cat Noir. The two don't meet up in person, but Ladybug tells Cat Noir to keep Timebreaker busy so she doesn't travel back in time while Ladybug goes after Lady Wifi. Of course, she doesn't have the friendship bracelet, but that wasn't Ladybug's plan in the first place.

Her actual plan is talking to Lady Wifi in an attempt to get Alya to break free of Shadowmoth's control. It's short, but it's a nice scene, with Ladybug explaining to Alya that even though they can't know everything about each other, they're still friends. So against all odds, Alya manages to reject the bond with Shadowmoth.

Oh yeah, it's not like we saw Chloe reject an Akuma in “Miraculer”, right? And Chrismaster giving up his akumatized object for Ladybug to purify? That didn't count either. Alya is clearly the first person to ever do this, and this is why you should immediately accept what happens later on.

Alya tells Ladybug where the Akuma is, and in response, Ladybug gives Alya the Fox Miraculous, which she uses to transform into Rena Rouge... even though she was already benched in “Feast” for endangering herself by uploading a video about the history of the Guardians to the internet, just like how Queen Bee and Ryuko were benched earlier for similar reasons, and the latter only appeared again because Ladybug wanted to get Kagami away from Adrien. Because I guess we're just going to ignore one of the biggest plotpoints of “Miracle Queen” now.

The other Akumas have Cat Noir at their mercy, so Rena Rouge uses her Mirage to create an illusion of Marinette to distract them. Timebreaker goes off to chase the illusion, and while Horrificator, Princess Fragrance, and Reflekta are about to take Ladybug's Miraculous, Rena Rouge and Cat Noir are the ones to break the object. Overall, a really clever climax to the episode.

So after Alya returns her Miraculous to Ladybug, we cut back to Marinette apologizing to her friends, who never apologize for invading her privacy. And while she mentions Luka, Marinette suddenly talks about how hard is to confess her feelings for Adrien, something that was never mentioned in this episode, because the writers are desperately trying to encourage the audience to ship the Love Square again brutally shooting down Lukanette and Adrigami. And after all this, Alya goes back up after everyone else leaves because she can just tell Marinette has another secret. How does she know this?

youtube

Okay, fine, Alya can be supportive of Marinette, and even her worst moments like the New York special were motivated by what she thought would make Marinette happy. A little misguided, and yeah, her teasing can be annoying at times, but she's ultimately there to help push Marinette to be honest with her feelings. “Reporter” is stretching it a little. No matter what the show likes to say, Alya isn't a good reporter. She barely verifies her sources and just posts things online. I'm sorry, but the Ladyblog is basically the superhero equivalent to TMZ. Alya probably doesn't even know who Joseph Pulitzer or Edward R. Murrow are, because rather than reporting the news to the public, she just wants to find things that will get her clicks on her website. Alya's biggest flaw as a character is that she is incredibly impulsive, but like everything else in the show, this flaw is never acknowledged, and is basically rewarded. Why do I say that? Well...

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this scene. On the one hand, it's very well acted, and the interaction genuinely highlights Marinette and Alya's friendship. Before she tells Alya, Marinette is just opening her heart out to her friend, and the grievances are played completely seriously. Even the reaction Alya gives when she finds out is very subdued, simply showing her shocked face before she gives Marinette a hug, with no dialogue. It's a very profound moment, and it's arguably one of the best in the entire series. Even the ending card doesn't show an action scene, but rather, it continues to focus on the hug while the Kwamis watch.

And thankfully, the episode doesn't end with the standard upbeat “Duh dun dun dun dunnnn, DA DA DA DA~!” track that almost every episode, no matter how depressing, usually ends with. It's just a really great moment, and a good way to end the episode... on its own.

When you think about previous episodes, like what I've mentioned with Alya, it's just strange that despite all the times she has shown herself to be bad at keeping secrets (like the aforementioned scene in “Feast”, posting a picture of her and Cat Noir kissing on the Ladyblog without her consent, and invading her privacy in this very episode, demanding to know her secrets), Marinette suddenly decides to give Alya a chance. Even worse, she had just said that she wasn't going to force her to tell her anything, which seemed like a strong character moment for her, but then the writers go back on the lesson and have Marinette do what Alya was trying to do the whole episode and tell her she's Ladybug.

Sure, Ladybug told Alya she was the Guardian and to keep it a secret earlier, but this lesson in keeping secrets should have stuck when she first became Rena Rouge in Season 2. I don't have a problem with Alya being Marinette's confidant (lord knows she needs one at this point), but I just don't think Alya is ready for this. It's the same thing with what happened with Adrien in “Syren”, by saying him immaturely threatening to quit being Cat Noir because of Ladybug's secrets was meant to show how he was ready to meet Master Fu even though it showed how selfish he was and was anything but ready. How is an episode where Alya tries to force Marinette into telling her everything she's keeping a secret meant to show she's ready to learn Ladybug's identity. Maybe if this episode kickstarted a character arc for Alya where she learned about why people keep secrets and that getting the truth isn't the right thing to do, culminating in a later episode where Alya learns Ladybug's identity, I'd be fine with that. As it is, this just had some poor timing and was the result of the writers not really thinking this through.

I guess I'm still interested to see where this goes, and how Marinette and Alya's friendship will change as a result of this. Maybe Alya can help Marinette get away to transform, or worry about her safety after an Akuma fight. Although the worst case scenario is that if Cat Noir finds out about this, he'll use it as an excuse to bitch and moan about how Ladybug is still keeping secrets from him and of course, she'll be blamed for whatever happens as a result of that.

Though I can't help but feel like I'm forgetting to mention something. Wasn't there someone else who wanted to know the truth about Marinette?

OH YEAH, I FORGOT ABOUT HIM JUST LIKE THE WRITERS DID.

This is what really kills the episode for me, just how it goes back on everything established in “Truth”. The whole reason Marinette broke up with Luka in the first place (which motivated the conflict of this episode) was because she realized keeping secrets from him wouldn't lead to a healthy relationship. As much as it pained her, it was a necessary evil Marinette had to do in order to protect her identity.

But now you're telling me that it's okay for Marinette to tell Alya her secret? WHY? How is this any different from what happened with Luka? Like Alya, Luka also wanted to known the truth, but the only difference was the way he confronted Marinette. He calmly asked her about what she was hiding, and even though she couldn't tell him, he respected her boundaries, and they both managed to end things on good terms.

Alya, who has a history of exposing secrets to the public, who barged into Marinette's room and demanded she tell her all of her secrets, is more trustworthy than Luka? This is why I don't buy the writers making Alya Marinette's confidant. I get that they want to give her some more story presence after how she had mostly faded into the background in Season 3, but this just isn't the way to do it.

Barring that, what did I think of the episode?

youtube

Yeah, it's just... it's just okay at best, mediocre at worst. There were a handful of decent moments in the episode, and some creative action scenes. Even stuff like Cat Noir's forced movie date and Alya violating Marinette's privacy isn't anything new, and unlike other episodes, the latter actually seems to apologize for that. The problem, as I already stated, was the ending. I think maybe the ending could have worked if Alya had found out Marinette's identity, but decided to keep it a secret. That way, it would make for an interesting dynamic, with Alya learning to be more responsible while secretly helping come up with ways for Marinette to get away to transform.

But as it stands, the episode is alright, but mostly forgettable if not for the ridiculous ending.

126 notes · View notes

satendou · 4 years

Text

⟼ if you can’t beat ‘em

⍣ clueless chemistry series | next

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: bokuto kotaro/f!reader/kuroo tetsuro

⇢ au: clueless chem!au, college!au, poly!au

⇢ summary: you and kuroo have it bad for each other, even though you’re dating bokuto. ignoring it for the sake of your relationships, it turns out bokuto isn’t as oblivious as you think.

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: established relationship, polyamory, smut, double penetration in one hole, blowjobs, fingering, oral, unprotected sex

⇢ word count: 8k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: idk how good this one actually is so we’ll see

The front door opened as you were putting three frozen pizzas in the oven, a deep, amused voice calling out a greeting to you. Your heart dropped from your chest to your stomach, almost dropping the pizza in your surprise.

“Back again? Just can’t stay away, can you?” Kuroo asked, dropping his bag with a muffled thump* by the door. You could hear the sound of his shoes hitting the floor as well, and then it seemed like he was suddenly behind you. “Bokuto home yet?”

“Hey, Kuroo. No,” you answered, trying to keep the nerves singing in your stomach at bay. Had you known he would be here before Bokuto, you might have opted to stick around for Bo’s practice instead. “He should be home soon though.”

As if to prove your point, both your phones dinged at the same time. Kuroo unlocked his first, reading Bokuto’s message in the group chat saying he would be home in ten.

“How were classes?” you asked as you checked your own texts. Bokuto had sent you a separate text full of heart emojis and an ‘eye love you’, to which you chuckled and typed back. There was a series of texts trying to determine meet up times for a group project in one of your classes, which you ignored for the time being. They would spend the next twelve hours trying to figure it out amongst themselves, so you had time. “The fuckin’ economy professor is killing me this semester.”

Kuroo laughed while you set the timer. His eyes lingered on the way your legs stretched out from underneath Bokuto’s old Fukurodani jersey before he winced.

The last thing he should be doing was eye-fucking his best friend’s girlfriend. He bit his lip and averted his eyes out the window, seriously considering all of his life choices, right down to the choice not to get a drink at the bar the night Bokuto met you.

Ugh, lucky bastard, he snarled in his head, but it was filled with amused aggravation at himself. Jealousy was unbecoming, especially when he was as envious of Bokuto as he was of you. What an awful friend he was. Up until the day Bokuto had met you, Kuroo had kept whatever feelings he’d had for Bokuto in check, refusing to linger or inspect them deeper than as a surface level platonic interest. He was afraid if he looked too closely at them, they would take root and flourish and then he would really be screwed.

But seeing the two of you together had really stuck in his craw and forced those dormant feelings to the forefront. At first, he hadn’t liked you because he was jealous. Yet, the longer he was forced to be in your presence and he saw how unbearably happy you made Bo, the more he just accepted that that was how things were meant to be. When he accepted that, it allowed him to start to get to know you.

And about that was around the time he realized he was actually, really, and truly fucked.

Turning back to you, he found you giving him a soft, pensive look that tugged at the fine strings holding his heart, which he chose to ignore for everyone’s sake. “Yeah, I had him last semester and it only gets worse. He’s gonna give you some insane project about halfway through the semester, so if you need help, let me know. I aced it, after all.”

You had quickly averted your eyes, cheeks flushing a light pink when he caught you staring, but you laughed into your hand. “Thanks, I appreciate that. Not gonna lie, I’m already kinda lost as it is. All the numbers and different...whatever. I need to really study if I’m gonna keep up, ugh.”

The offer to help was on the tip of his tongue when the door opened and Bokuto stumbled in, calling a raucous greeting, causing guilt to flood his system again. There was no reason to feel that way either, he was just going to offer you help, it wasn’t even an underhanded attempt to spend time alone with you, for fuck’s sake. Not that it wouldn’t be a perk but you were dating his best friend. He would reign in his urges for that if for no other reason.

Trying not to read too much into the way you scampered away from him, he watched you smile at Bokuto, who swept you up in a hug. The burning in his chest was a mix of affection and jealousy, and it left a bitter tang on his tongue as he looked away. The sun was mostly gone by that point, and the lights of Tokyo were starting to twinkle.

For a brief moment he considered going out to find somewhere else to be for the night. Watching the two of you simper over each other all night would be enough to make him puke, and yet he found himself parked on the opposite end of the couch from you, watching Fight Club. Just as expected, you were curled up against Bo’s chest while he told the two of you about practice and classes, and the gap between you and Kuroo felt like a canyon.

“Where’s ‘Kaashi?” you asked at last, when the clock struck ten. The pizza was long gone by then and you were settled into Bokuto’s chest, his hand warm on your back through the jersey you wore. It was abnormal for him to be so late getting home, and you narrowed your eyes at Bokuto’s smirk.

He snickered into his hand, grinning knowingly. It was oddly devilish coming from your light-hearted partner. It did strange things to you, sending chills down your spine, and you shifted closer to him. “He’s out on a study-date, but I don’t think he’ll be coming home tonight.”

Kuroo scoffed on your other side before snickering. “Since when are you so observant, Ko?”

“I’m a lot more observant than you might think, Tetsu.”

There was a strange, new edge to Bokuto’s voice when he answered, sending both of your hearts racing when you heard it. It set off something akin to alarm bells, and you and Kuroo looked at each other.

When you had first got together with Bokuto, you had been forthright with him. You liked him a lot, but you were someone who liked having multiple partners. Of course, Bokuto being Bokuto it hadn’t made a difference to him.

“Alright, cool. Not sure I’m interested, but thanks for letting me know. Now how ‘bout we go get some ice cream?”

At the time, you hadn’t believed he truly understood what you meant, but after a few more conversations and hints, he finally got the big picture. And still didn’t seem to care.

As he had said during that first conversation, he showed no interest in dating outside of you, and so it made you feel a bit guilty about going on any dates when he was almost single-mindedly devoted. Then again, it had taken you a decent while to get to the point where you wanted to date other people. Bokuto took up a lot of your time that wasn’t already taken up by classes and work. He was a ball of energy that left you no chance to even consider interest in anyone else.

Maybe that was why you had fallen for Kuroo. Besides Akaashi, he was the friend that you spent the most time with, but you didn’t care to date any of the other people you met.

No, that wasn’t right. You didn’t date them for long, if one date could be called dating. It was fine-- you weren’t looking for anything. Just, sometimes you would agree to coffee or dinner and then ghost or be ghosted after that.

You still couldn’t pinpoint when you had fallen for Kuroo, either. With Bokuto, you had taken an instant liking to him, with his loud vibrance and undying enthusiasm. His more or less blind optimism and kindness towards everyone didn’t hurt either.

Kuroo, on the other hand, had started out a bit...abrasive. You couldn’t tell what were jokes; he was constantly picking and teasing, and it grated on your nerves for a while. A few of your other friends called him a “master of provocation” and it sounded stupid but you could also see what they meant. He was certainly good at getting under your skin.

Which was why it surprised you when you saw him one day and felt the familiar stir of emotions, your eyes starting to linger on him longer and seek him out. His teasing became less annoying and more endearing, your laughter coming more easily in response to it. You would guess it was around that time that his gaze started lingering on you longer than was appropriate, and that you began to catch his eyes.

The longer it went on, the more you realized a lot of things about Kuroo. How he liked his coffee-- black if he had an early morning class, but with a lot creamer if he wasn’t going anywhere-- and that his teasing was interlaced with a lot of good advice and kindness-- you just had to know where to look. He was smart, top of the class in most if not all the science courses, funny, handsome, and kind. And the way Bokuto talked about him, like Kuroo was some kind of saint with a sarcastic streak, really didn’t help.

It really wasn’t much of a surprise when you considered all that. But he was one of Bokuto’s best friends, strictly off limits. You were definitely not about to go and ruin their friendship because you couldn’t control yourself.

You weren’t going to be that selfish.

Neither was Kuroo, even though he never said as much. It wasn’t something either of you had ever even considered bringing up amongst yourselves, beyond weighing the pros and cons of doing so.

Pros: maybe you realized it wasn’t a crush after all and you could settle into a friendship.

Cons: you fucked up big time.

Pretty simple answer.

But no matter how hard you tried to ignore the feelings and treat each other as friends, it wasn’t that simple.

“What do you mean, Ko?” Kuroo asked, quirking his eyebrow at Bokuto. There was a small smile toying at the corners of his lips, but his narrowed eyes belied his concern.

You admired his ability to sound so calm and collected when your heart was racing so fast in your chest you were lightheaded. The accusatory tone in Bokuto’s voice wasn’t even fair when you hadn’t even done anything--

You remained tucked into Bokuto’s side, head craned up to look into your partner’s face, but you couldn’t get a read on him. Usually he was so open, betraying every emotion he was feeling in a given moment, but besides the narrow, calculating look in his eyes, there was nothing.

“Ko?” you murmured, tentatively covering his hand with yours.

“Like you don’t know, Kuroo. I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Bokuto answered, slipping his hand out from under yours. You found yourself hoisted further up into his lap, planted sideways across his thighs, and your heart made its way into your throat. Tears burned your eyes as you looked at Kuroo, pleading with him to save this.

Kuroo looked right back at you, alarm evident in his eyes, before looking back up to Bokuto as he shook his head. “It isn’t like that, Ko. You know it isn’t. And she hasn’t-- we haven’t--”

So focused on Kuroo, you didn’t notice Bokuto’s arm sliding around your waist until it was pulling you back slightly, so that you were putting your weight on it. Bracing yourself on your leg wasn’t an option either because Bo had already hooked his other arm under your knee, pulling until you were splayed out before Kuroo, who had a sudden inkling this wasn’t going to go the way either of you expected.

Still, he kept his arms locked across his chest, legs crossed as he kept his eyes firmly on Bokuto’s unreadable yellow ones. He was actually a little concerned about how Bo was suddenly so good at that-- it made him uneasy, not being able to tell exactly what he was thinking. It had been years since Kuroo had learned all of Bokuto’s tells but he was seeing none whatsoever now.

“I know you haven’t, because I trust the both of you,” Bokuto responded, and finally looked down at you. His arm came out from under your knee so he could cradle your face, giving you the first soft smile you had seen since he had first started...whatever this was. It almost* eased the tightness in your chest, but you were still confused. Then he laughed, boisterous and full and loud and both you and Kuroo jumped a mile high. “Don’t worry, guys. I’m not mad. I mean, have you seen her? I’d be more concerned if you weren’t interested.”

You gaped like a fish and Kuroo’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, only making him laugh harder at the utter confusion all over both of your faces.

Kuroo was the first to recover, blinking wildly, and his concern for you was evident. “You mean you aren’t mad? We’ve never even talked about it let alone acted on it so I think we were both confused but--”

“Bro, Akaashi noticed ages ago how the two of you were acting and asked what was going on. Was super concerned but I told him it was cool and that we were open so I didn’t mind,” Bokuto explained, and his arm around you relaxed as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. He smiled when you cuddled down into him, curling your knees up so that you were tucked close into his chest. “Sorry, baby. I just wanted to have a little fun.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled up and spilled down your cheeks, and Bokuto was quick to ramp up his apologies, swiping at the tears with his thumbs while Kuroo chuckled from his seat. When you looked up at him, his pretty yellow eyes were swimming with regret, but you weren’t quite ready to forgive him yet.

“The hell, Ko? I was really scared. I thought you were gonna-- gonna leave me or--” You hiccupped, hiding your face in his shirt. Fingers curling into his shirt, you wiped your eyes on his shoulder, feeling his large, warm hands rubbing your back. You weren’t sure what the or was, but it had something to do with cutting you and maybe even Kuroo out of the picture.

You were shaking against him and Bokuto was just starting to think he’d really fucked up when you pulled back and kissed him full on the mouth. He could feel your lips quirk up against his, taste the salt from your tears on his tongue, but then you were playfully smacking his chest while you huffed out a laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he answered, glancing at Kuroo from the corner of his eyes. His friend was examining his perfectly filed nails with feigned disinterest, picking at nonexistent dirt underneath them, and he smirked. “Why didn’t you guys tell me about it, though? Or at least you, _____. You know I don’t mind.”

“Uh-- well--” you stuttered, and looked to Kuroo again. He looked mildly curious, and you realized he didn’t really know about yours and Bokuto’s arrangement either. Probably because Bokuto completely forgot to mention it, if you had to guess. Things like that slipped his mind often when they weren’t pressing. Sometimes even the important things did as well, but you couldn’t blame him. Much softer and a little shy, you continued, “He’s your friend, Ko. I didn’t want to do that. Especially to you and Kuroo.”

The corner of Kuroo’s mouth ticked up, affection for you flooding his system, and the soft look Bokuto gave you only made it worse. He wished he was on the receiving end of anything from either of you, but it wasn’t possible. But he was curious to know what you and Bo were talking about. You didn’t want to do what* that Ko didn’t care about? With him*?

But Bokuto was too busy showering you with affection to notice anything Kuroo was doing, so he contented himself to watch him whisper in your ear and listen to you giggle in return. Why he was still just sitting there was beyond him when he was suffering for it, wanting everything the two of you had. Jealousy flared in his ribs and spread down through his stomach, icy hot tendrils wrapping around his heart until he thought it might burst. He really was such an awful friend.

The couch shifted and you broke from Bokuto to look at Kuroo, who had stood up but was staring with fixed determination at the TV. The look on his face was twisting and turning, changing from anger to resignation to hurt and back again, as if he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to feel.

Scoffing at what was on the screen, he turned towards the hall. It was all well and good that the two of you could make up and move on, but the longer Kuroo sat and thought about it, the angrier he became at Bokuto’s ‘joke’. As if his feelings were just something to amuse him and he wasn’t about to sit here and be made fun of, but he wasn’t about to blow up on the two of you either. It wasn’t your fault he was...feeling like this.

Except it kind of was Bokuto’s but he wouldn’t understand.

“Where you goin’, Tetsu?” Bokuto asked, but his eyes were narrowed in amusement. Over the last few months of watching the two of you, he had learned more about Kuroo’s expressions and tells, things he had missed in the years that they had known each other. The way Kuroo’s eyes would narrow just before he said something he knew would tick someone off, the way his eyes would water just the tiniest bit before he told a joke he thought was hilarious, or how he would suck his lip in and nibble when he was holding his tongue on something-- which was rare-- were just a few.

He had also taken notice of the way he stared at not only you, but Bokuto himself. Now, Bokuto would be the first to admit that he wasn’t the most observant or the smartest, but he knew a wistful look when he saw one and he was the constant target of Kuroo’s. He was probably neck and neck with you, but he couldn’t be sure how much longer he’d been on the receiving end. When he asked Akaashi about it, he had only shrugged, commenting, “Maybe he likes you too. Have you thought of that?”

The answer was no, no he hadn’t. But that had started some weird gears turning in Bokuto’s volleyball addled brain and sooner rather than later he wondered if he hadn’t developed feelings for Kuroo in return. It wasn’t like he was oblivious to how attractive his friend was, but in Bokuto’s mind it didn’t work that way. He liked what he liked and Kuroo had been around for so long that he never thought about how deep his feelings might run. He was just such a constant in his life that it didn’t occur to him there might be more to it, not like when he had met you. His feelings for you were instantly recognizable, but the more he delved into watching Kuroo, the more he realized those same feelings applied.

It was all very confusing to Bokuto, who usually just lived by a run and gun mentality, and tonight he was shooting his shot.

Right now Kuroo was biting his tongue so hard Bokuto was sure it was bleeding inside his mouth, and he laughed again, his answer short and bitten out. “Just going to go to bed. It’s getting too lovey-dovey in here for my tastes.”

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest, knowing that Kuroo was hurting. None of this was fair to him, but what could you do? It wasn’t like it was fair to you either, nor was it fair to Bokuto. You had made your choice-- you loved Bo and that was all there was to it. “Kuroo, I’m sorry.”

Your words caused him to falter, soft and unbearably sweet. It took everything he had to stop himself from turning around because seeing you would just make it that much harder. Sighing, he said quietly, “It isn’t your fault, _____. None of this is anyone’s fault. Except maybe Bokuto’s for bringing you around.”

He snickered at the offended squawk that left his friend who, unbeknownst to him, leaned down and whispered something into your ear.

Your eyes widened in surprise and shock, and you couldn’t find it in you to ask if he meant it, so you just stared up at him without blinking. Was he being serious?

Bo smirked at the look on your face-- it was one he would never get tired of seeing, when he surprised you by telling you something you weren’t expecting and he was very good at it-- and nodded. Helping you to stand, he patted your butt to get you moving when you just stood there for another moment, still staring at him. He was sure you were expecting a trick but if you didn’t get a move on Kuroo was going to leave and make things a lot harder.

Walking as quietly as you could and avoiding that one creaky spot by the corner of the coffee table, you came up behind Kuroo, who was just hovering in the middle of the archway. He jumped when your hand came to rest on his back, but followed your persistent tugging for him to turn around. He was several inches taller than you, which made it a bit awkward, but when he was finally facing you you looped your arms around his neck and stared up at him.

He took in your wide, nervous eyes and the way your shoulders rose and fell far too fast, then looked over your head at Bokuto. He was splayed out and relaxed on the couch watching with a smirk on his face. Kuroo would swear there was lust in those golden eyes, like he was waiting for them to put on a show.

The smirk issued a challenge and posed a question, slowly sliding down to you. Kuroo set his hands on your hips and Bokuto nodded, eyes widening the slightest bit and Kuroo groaned low in his throat. The hell was he thinking? Was he actually offering you? For that matter, were you going along with it?

When he looked down to you, his breath was literally knocked out of him at the open, hopeful look in your eyes. You were so achingly beautiful to him, need and desire shimmering in the depths of that hope. He caved with little resistance, slotting his lips against yours sloppily. You whined, standing on your toes, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. It was as soft as you had always imagined, though your fingers did get tangled in the strands. He tasted soft and sweet, his tongue gliding against yours as if savoring every second of the kiss. He was a lot gentler than you expected of him, pulling you flush against his body as his mouth moved against yours.

“Holy shit,” Bokuto whispered, drawing you both from the moment. When Kuroo pulled away to look at him, there was definitely arousal pooling in his eyes, and he shifted in his seat. Catching Kuroo looking at him, a smug grin flitted across his face, then he looked at you.

You were still staring up at Kuroo with half-lidded eyes, lips parted and a need for more written clearly on your face. Before he could give in to your begging, Bokuto called for you.

It took you a moment to register, then you were pulling away to go to Bo, stumbling a little on your way and they were both concerned until he took your hand in his. His pretty face had finally lightened up into something you were used to, open and expressive and needy. His rough hands caressed the outside of your thighs, making you squirm with desire. You needed more.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Bokuto asked, catching Kuroo’s eye behind you. Inclining his head in invitation, he watched Kuroo shake his head in confusion. It made him feel a bit bad-- he had never seen Kuroo like this before, so torn up over something, but he was equally amused. He just loved surprising people. To you, he asked, “You need something?”

You flushed red from the tips of your ears all the way down to your chest, twisting the hem of your shirt in your fingers, and shook your head.

“No? Nothing’s wrong?” Bokuto teased, easing your fingers up from their death grip. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the tip of each finger. You were biting your lip and looking to the side, tension resting in your shoulders. When he had told you to go kiss Kuroo, the look on your face and in your eyes had been adorable, the sight of the two of you stirring something he hadn’t expected.

It had never been in his interests to have more than one partner, especially because relationships weren’t high on his list of priorities in the first place. You had come into his life like a bright flash of sunlight through the gap in a curtain, blinding him. There had been no hesitation in his pursuit of you, though it wasn’t much of a chase since you had agreed to a date right off the bat. It had been easy with you, for the most part, because he had never lied to you about how important volleyball was to him. After a few months, it became a rhythm to meet up after practice whenever you could, and you made it a point to be there for his games. Sometimes he felt guilty, that he was neglecting you, but whenever he brought it up you would sit him down and promise him you understood.

He was undoubtedly grateful for your support, no matter how fanatical he got about his passion, and it was one of the reasons he didn’t say anything about it when you brought up dating people besides himself. The way you explained it made sense to him-- but your needs were more complex than his, he had to admit. He felt no burden* from your need for attention, but if you needed more than he could give you, he would let you go.

But you stuck around, and that was more than he could have hoped for given how busy he was. It seemed he might have the solution now, if you and Kuroo wanted it.

“Kotaro, what is all this about?” Kuroo asked, cutting into Bokuto’s pondering. First name use, huh? He was catching on.

Bokuto smiled at him, happy and light and manipulative, causing Kuroo to sigh. If he was right, then he was going to get his number one wish of the last six months. A part of him was almost scared to find out what would come of it, but the other, louder part of him hardened in his slacks.

Bokuto snickered and urged you to turn around, preening when you did so willingly. Your head was still swimming with trepidation, your heart racing with hope and exhilaration. Kuroo seemed to have a better grasp of whatever Bokuto was getting at than you did, but it wasn’t hard to gather how far he was planning to let this go. His hands were warm on your thighs, sliding up, up, up, underneath his jersey that hung two times too large on your body.

Kuroo gulped, you could see his Adam’s apple bob in his slender throat as inch after inch of bare skin was revealed, and he took it all in with a hungry stare. He wasn’t even pretending he wasn’t interested, not now that Bokuto had all but spoken his consent.

You trusted him enough in that, and you had no interest in stopping him either.

There was an audible intake of breath from Kuroo when you took over pulling the shirt over your head. It hit the floor with a whisper of sound, easily obscured by the low groan emanating from Kuroo.

How many times had he pictured you like this, naked and so fucking willing for him, only to be flooded with shame immediately afterwards? Looking down at him as you rode him or up at him as you sucked his cock, lips stretched around him-- in any scenario you were fucked out and drooling, begging him for more.

There was no shame this time as he stared at you while Bokuto peeked over your shoulder wearing a smug expression that would have pissed Kuroo off in another situation. As it was, Kuroo was just itching to run his fingers all over your supple skin, leaving marks that would remind you of him come the morning. When Bokuto’s fingers started to toy with the waistband of the too short shorts you still wore, he took a step forward, but Bokuto stilled and shook his head.

“Ah, ah, not yet, Tetsu,” he said, and began to slide the fabric down. Your panties peeled away and both men could see the wetness on your folds before you began to rub your thighs together, but Bokuto wasn’t having that. “I want you to watch for a bit.”

He yanked you down into his lap, eliciting a panicked squeak, falling into his chest with your legs spread on either side of his. The silky fabric of his shorts did nothing to hide the erection grinding against your ass and you gasped.

Kuroo relaxed, trying to appear nonchalant as he leaned against the wall, but his eyes were sharp and focused on the way Bokuto’s fingers skimmed up your inner thighs all the way to your core, spreading your slick lips. “Since when are you such a tease, Ko?”

Bokuto gave his signature smirk, just one side of his mouth turning up as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “I’ve learned some things, Tetsu. Enjoying the view?” You squirmed with embarrassment in his hold, head turned to the side but it did nothing to hide the red flush on your cheeks. You were leaking all over his shorts as his thumb found your clit, swiping over it and you mewled. His other hand came up to cup one lush tit, tweaking your pretty nipple, and you clenched around nothing.

Kuroo could see the way your hole twitched, spread as it was by Bokuto’s fingers, slick dripping down the curve of your ass. He had to fight to resist the urge to palm himself, just to relieve something, and he swallowed thickly. Yes, yes he damn well was enjoying the view, and when one of Bokuto’s thick fingers slid into you, he moaned with need.

You jerked in his hold, eyes locked on Kuroo, who looked like he was going to collapse at any moment. His eyes were bright with arousal, the tent in his pants obvious though he tried to appear calm. It looked painful, but with Bokuto’s finger curling inside you while his thumb toyed with your clit, you weren’t in any position to help.

“Feel good, princess? Want another one?” Bokuto asked, snickering when you nodded mutely. The slick noises your hole was making filled the room, your head on the verge of falling back onto his shoulder, hips rocking ever so with his thrusts. When another finger was added you moaned, eyes fluttering closed and legs trying to squeeze closed around his. His lips blazed a trail up the side of your neck to underneath your jaw, teeth nipping sharply as he listened to you. “Tetsu, how does she look?”

“Breathtaking.”

The word tumbled out without thought, unable to look away from you. Though his cheeks flushed he absolutely meant it and he watched your head snap up to look at him with wide eyes. He was almost afraid he was dreaming, watching Bokuto pump his fingers in and out of you while you squirmed in his lap. Your eyes were glazed and needy, lips parted in a silent ‘o’ when he curled them up just right, your nails digging into his forearm in a white-knuckle grip.

You whined when Bokuto pulled his fingers out of you, covered in your slick, lifting them to your lips. Bokuto perked up when Kuroo moaned, pinning him with an amused stare while your lips wrapped around them, lapping and sucking the taste of yourself.

“Want him to taste you, pretty girl?” he asked, loud enough that Kuroo could hear just to watch him perk up. There was no hesitation when you nodded, reaching out to him and he went in an instant, falling to his knees before you.

He grabbed you by the knees and pulled you down further, slinging your knees over his shoulder as he dove in. His tongue lapped at your outer lips to tease, your thighs tightening around his head every time he came close to your clit only to miss. When he looked up, your head was back on Bokuto’s shoulder, tits being fondled by your partner as he watched Kuroo eat you.

He groaned, drinking in the taste of you and when one finger teased your entrance, you spasmed, jerking your hips up seeking more.

“Tetsu, please,” you whined, reaching one hand up into Bo’s hair while tangling the fingers of your other in Kuroo’s, urging him forward, and who was he to deny you when you asked oh so nicely?

Wrapping his lips around your neglected clit, he sunk in, moaning at just how fucking wet you were. You parted so easily for him that he dipped a second in and you squeezed his head between your thighs, moaning his name again.

“Fuck,” Bo whispered, voice hoarse as he watched Kuroo eat you out. He let go of your breasts to grip beneath your knees, holding you open and Kuroo glanced up, catching the way Bokuto stared with undisguised desire. “Why did we not do this sooner?”

Pulling back, he let loose a smug grin, his thumb replacing his lips around your clit. “Didn’t take you for a voyeur, Ko,” he said, thrusting his fingers up and grazing the soft spot inside you.

“I wasn’t until just now,” he muttered, holding your trembling legs tighter. Your fingers were tugging at his hair harder, so he knew you were close, your juices leaking all over Kuroo’s hand and filling his ears with slick noises.

You gasped, feeling the coil tighten, ready to break and you let them know, eyes fluttering shut as you rocked your hips into his fingers. “Please, Tetsu, please, I wanna cum--”

“Then cum, pretty girl,” he growled, circling your clit harder. He could feel you fluttering around them, squeezing tight and your lips parted, a moan ripping out of you as heat washed through you, legs fighting against Bokuto’s hold. Kuroo kept it up as you cried out, riding you through it until you relaxed into Bo’s chest, panting. “Fuck, I knew you’d cum so pretty, kitten,” he rasped, pulling his fingers from you.

Before he could lick your essence off of them, Bo grabbed his hand, drawing it slowly towards his mouth. Their eyes locked and you watched as Bo hesitated for a split second before drawing them between his lips, lapping at the pads of his fingers and further.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo whispered, eyes wide at the sight of his best friend swallowing his fingers. The look in his eyes made his cock twitch with want, imagining them wrapped around his thick shaft, lapping and sucking. Unable to handle it, he ripped his fingers away, carding them through his hair as he asked, “Can I-- Can I kiss you, Ko?”

Bokuto hummed, eyes thoughtful as he cupped his chin. Kuroo could tell he was teasing and quirked a brow at this new side to his friend.

“I’ve never kissed a dude before. Never really wanted to either,” Bokuto admitted, though he didn’t look or sound ashamed. In fact, he sounded curious, and Kuroo smirked.

“Not much different than kissing _____, though you might like it more,” he teased, guiding Bo’s head to hover just beneath his lips, caging you between the two of them. He waited, letting him make the decision and with his usual tenacity, he dove right in, sweeping his tongue across the seam of Kuroo’s lips. They parted and he was overwhelmed by the aftertaste of energy drinks and cherry chapstick. He had always imagined kissing Bo would be an experience, especially with how many times he had watched him makeout with you, but it was entirely different now. Kissing Bo felt like he was drowning in him, leaning in for more even though he wasn’t holding anything back.

When they pulled apart, Kuroo was panting, pupils blown wide. He followed after Bo, wanting more, but was stopped by a hand on his cheek.

“I didn’t know you were so needy,” Bokuto said, and it was impossible to ignore the deep timbre giving away how affected he was. “I say we continue this in the bedroom, hm?” He looked down at you, and you nodded, still looking a little fuzzy from watching them kiss. “Good, let’s go.”

Kuroo helped you to your feet, drinking in the sight of you proudly naked, while Bo took your other hand. He pulled off his shirt as soon as your bedroom door was shut behind Kuroo, who almost choked at the sight. Bo was built like a Greek god, all bulky muscle; he couldn’t even think about moving without flexing.

He felt fingers on the hem of his own shirt and looked down to find you tugging at it, and he let you pull it up and over his head, stooping down just so you could. Bokuto had already kicked his shorts off towards the laundry basket, missing by a mile while you undid the button of his pants. His cock throbbed when your fingers grazed over it as you pulled them and his boxers down, falling to your knees while they pooled at his ankles.

A loud moan ripped from him when your hand gripped his base with your soft hand, head thumping back into the door. You started with light touches, nuzzling and kissing his cock like you were worshipping it and, when his eyes finally opened again, he found Bo staring, licking his lips. His hand was around his own cock, pumping slowly as he watched you take Kuroo into your mouth at last, and then he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

His fingers tangled in your hair, just holding it back as you bobbed up and down his length, tongue tracing the vein and swirling around the head, not really giving him enough to cum but damn if it didn’t feel good. When he looked down at you again finally, he found you staring up at him, eyes bright and teary, and then Bo’s hands were on your cheeks, pulling you off of him.

“‘M startin’ to feel a little jealous, babe,” he whined, though Kuroo could detect no hint of it in his voice. If anything, he sounded antsy as he pulled you to your feet and kissed you, delving his tongue between your lips. Backing you into Kuroo, he hooked his arms underneath your knees and Kuroo took the hint, helping him lift you up so that your legs were spread wide, Bo’s length sliding against your wet slit. You weighed nothing to him and he often liked to use his strength to trap you, bouncing you on his cock at his whim. This time was no different, your whines music to their ears as he prodded at your slick hole.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try,” he grunted as he filled you, splitting you around his thick head. You were so tight, sucking him in and mewling in his ear for more, tugging at his hair as he seated himself fully inside of you. Kuroo watched the whole thing with a slack jaw, touching his cock just to ease the ache of watching you beg for Bokuto’s cock. “Think you could take both of us, baby?”

The noise of agreement you made went straight to Kuroo’s cock, his hand suddenly not enough for him. When you turned to look at him, yanked your head back by the hair and slammed his lips against yours. Breathless, he asked, “Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can wait--”

You cut him with a whiny plea against his lips. “Yes, yes, Tetsu, I want you both to fuck me.”

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this outcome, but as your cunt stretched around him, whining and clawing at Bokuto’s shoulders as you let him in too, it was his new favorite fantasy.

“Fuck,” he groaned when his hips met yours. You were crying, pussy fluttering around them at the fantastic stretch, and he stilled inside to let you get used to the feeling. You were limp between them, your head resting on Kuroo’s shoulder while they held you up. “So tight, princess, shit.”

You knew he had a filthy mouth, but hearing him now while he praised you made you whine, and Bokuto snickered.

“She just loves being told how good she feels, how pretty she is when she’s being fucked. She’ll do anything if you do, won’t you, baby?” he said. His hips began to rock, testing if you were ready, and your mouth opened in a silent cry when the crown of his cock ground past that sweet spot inside you. He couldn’t have missed it if he tried, and when he pushed back in, Kuroo pulled out.

They set up a steady rhythm, pounding into you so you were never empty, sometimes pushing back in at the same time just to hear you cry out. You could only let them use you as they wanted, nails perpetually digging into Bokuto’s broad shoulders and a litany of cries and moans fleeing your lips.

The heat was building up in your stomach and every time Bo’s hips met yours, he ground into your clit, forcing his cock just a little bit further. His fingers had a death grip on your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh like Kuroo was doing to your tits, plucking and pulling your hard nipples as he whispered how good you felt into your ear.

“Ko, please-- Tetsu, I’m gonna--” you cried, tightening your thighs around Bokuto’s hips but you only spurred them on further, their hips slamming into yours at a faster pace. Your back locked, forcing your tits out and Bokuto’s eyes locked on the way they bounced, licking his lips.

“Come on,” he grunted, using some of his brute strength to make you bounce, your breasts jiggling with each hard thrust. When Kuroo’s hand slid down your ribs and over your stomach, your breathing hitched, the coil wound so tight it was painful. It snapped when his fingers grazed your clit at the same time they buried inside you.

You clapped your hand over your mouth to hold in the scream, hips jerking and twitching in their hold as Kuroo continued to assault your clit. He pulled out of you, leaving his cock achingly hard but it was worth it to see you ravaged by Bokuto’s insane pace when he set your back to the wall, your toes curled as he pounded into your overstimulated pussy. You were crying again, wailing his name until he stilled inside you with a grunt, massive frame curled down over yours as he spilled inside your cunt.

Panting, he pulled back to see Kuroo working his hand up and down his shaft, using your slick as lube with his lip pulled between his teeth as he watched you.

“Think you can take care of him still, baby?” Bokuto asked, setting you on your feet.

You nodded, falling to your knees-- your legs weren’t going to hold you up anyway-- and beckoned Kuroo over to you. He stumbled in his haste to get to you, resting his arms against the wall above your head as you swallowed his cock in one fluid motion.

You were making the most obscene noises as you choked, working him down into your throat as fast as you could without hurting yourself, and Kuroo watched it all with wide, needy eyes. The sight of your nose burying in his curls was what did it, and he choked out a curse as he came down your throat. You swallowed around him and he thought he might lose his mind, gathering your hair up to hold you down until he was spent.

Helping you to your feet, the three of you stood there for several moments gathering your breath, staring at each other with amused wonder.

“Well, that was fun,” Bokuto said, the first to recover. He looked far too self-satisfied for Kuroo’s liking.

You snorted in amusement, limping over to your drawer to pull out another shirt, since the one you had been wearing was still out in the living room. You were in desperate need of a shower and sleep, and you had to hurry before Bo got a second wind.

“So what now?” Kuroo asked, watching you with a raised brow. There was smug pride in his smirk and it must have shown because you turned to glare at him.

“Dunno, what do you want?” Bokuto asked, sliding his boxers back on. He fully intended to join you in the shower, so he fetched a fresh pair from his own drawer, giving you a cheeky grin when you made a face. “If you want a relationship, I’m down.”

They both looked to you then, and you rolled your eyes. “I’ve liked Kuroo for ages, so you don’t even have to ask me.”

“Then it’s settled,” Bokuto said, clapping his hands. “Besides, I like the idea of her not being lonely, since I’m so busy with volleyball and all. And I know I can trust the two of you together.”

He said it with such confidence that both of you were filled with warm affection and happiness, knowing that he believed you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. And you wouldn’t-- you both loved him too much.

“Alright, shower and then bed. I’m exhausted,” you said, punctuating it with yawn. You stretched your arms over your head and heard an intake of air and, when you opened your eyes, you found them both wearing predatory expressions. “No, no no no. I am sore and tired and--”

“Awe, just one more,” Bokuto said, voice cajoling, and Kuroo nodded in agreement, following Bo as he crowded you against the dresser.

“I have class in the morning, I won’t be able to walk,” you whined, even as you let them pull your shirt back off. It hit the floor and was promptly forgotten as fingers danced up your thighs and over your ribs, more prodding your already abused hole still dripping cum.

Kuroo snickered, his fingers sliding into your pussy again and you shuddered against him, still sensitive. “Ko can carry you, it’ll be fine*.”

“Oh fuck me,” you whined when Bo’s lips latched onto your nipple, and you tugged at his hair in a futile gesture. You were already gone and everyone knew it.

“That’s the plan, princess.”

⇥ masterlist

⇥ taglist: @sluttony, @visaintes, @yunhosblackgf, @super-noya, @byebyes-world, @newfriendjen

#bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #kotaro bokuto x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsuro kuroo x reader #haikyuu x reader #.ifyoucan'tbeatem

648 notes · View notes

s1ut4harrypotter · 3 years

Text

Boyish- Fred Weasley x Reader

Fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: you and Fred have been dating for about a year, but something in your 6th year feels different between you.

a/n: surprise you get two fics in one day.

this is based off Boyish by Japanese Breakfast. holy fuck that’s such a good song i don’t think i’ve stopped crying since I heard it. so naturally I wrote a fan fic about it. I will NOT tolerate any Angelina slander on this post, or anywhere on my page for that matter, holy shit she was my gay awakening (fictional character wise) but anyways I almost cried while writing this.

warnings: a whole lotta angst because it wouldn’t be one of my posts without it. not cheating or anything but fred wishing to be in a different relationship while you’re dating, just sad in general. sorta happy ending but not really

Lyrics in italics/bold

You and Fred had been dating for almost a year now. You loved him and it felt like he loved you back. It was your 6th year. Things felt different this year though, Fred felt more distant. It felt like you were falling deeper and deeper for him as he was getting further and further away.

Your boyish reassurance is not reassuring when I need it

You didn’t know how to feel about it, but he still told you he loved you, so you figured you were just being insecure. His reassurance that he did love you, never felt true as you wanted, but ‘no matter’ you thought as you pushed it down. But as the months went on, it got to be a bigger problem. It felt like you and Fred never saw each other. Like anytime you were coming into the common room, he was leaving, and vice versa. You were getting fed up with never getting to see your boyfriend, so you decided to ask George what was up with him.

“Hey George! Can we talk for a second?” you said, as you finally caught George alone.

“Hey Y/N/N! What’s up?”

You and George were close before you met Fred. Fred saw stepping foot in the library as the 8th deadly sin, but George occasionally found his way in there on quiet afternoons. You had clicked instantly, and when he introduced you to Fred, you were crushing pretty quickly.

“I was wondering what’s been going on with Freddie lately? He feels so distant this year” you said sadly.

“You know, I’m not sure darling, I think you should talk to him about it, I’ve noticed he is different this year too” he said, giving you a pat on the back before heading out of the common room.

Unsatisfied with George’s answer, you decided to find Fred. You weren’t sure if you were just imagining it or not. You and Fred still did all the things couples would do, you held hands as you walked down the hall, sat next to each other at meals, and cuddled on the couch at night. But it didn’t feel like he was fully there anymore. At the start of your relationship, he was so warm and inviting, but now you didn’t feel only complete happiness when you were with him. You were upset, you wanted to know what you had done wrong, if anything, so you could fix it.

And all of my devotion turns violent

You finally found Fred later that day, sitting in the Great Hall with George and Lee.

“Hey Freddie. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?” you asked, timidly.

“Of course darling, here let’s go to the common room. I’ll see you later boys.”, he said leading you out of the great hall.

Once you got back you decided not to beat around the bush.

“What’s been going on with you lately Fred? It feels like you’re miles away. Did I do something wrong?” you asked, wiggling your way out of your spot, he had you tucked into his side, but this was a conversation you needed to have face to face.

“ Nothing is wrong Darling. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I’ve just been feeling off for a bit, my love. Nothing to worry about.” he said with a smile that seemed genuine.

“I’m sorry Freddie, is it about what happened with your mom?” you asked, suddenly feeling bad for even thinking something was wrong.

Earlier that summer, Molly had confiscated their batch of joke products, and they were the only ones Fred and George had. They were devastated.

“Yeah, we just worked so hard to make them and for her to just take them was kind of disappointing.”. The lie slipped out easily, he never meant to lie to you, but he couldn’t tell you the truth.

In reality, Fred was fighting a battle in his head. At the end of last year, Fred was hopelessly- what he thought was- in love with you. But it turned out to just be infatuation on his part. He figured if he waited, he would fall in love with you for real. He did like you, he just didn’t like you the way you liked him. When they got back to school, his old school boy crush on Angelina Johnson came back and hit him like a ton of bricks. He was falling hard for Angelina, and you were stuck thinking he loved you just as much as you loved him.

I want you and you want something more beautiful

You started noticing things, you’d be looking at Fred, and he’d be looking across the room at something. You quickly realized what that something was; Angelina Johnson. You always thought of her as the prettiest girl in your year. She was gorgeous, funny, athletic, and she just walked around like she was sure of herself. You weren’t best friends, merely acquaintances, but you had always respected her for the way she carried herself. She had the confidence you always wished you had.

What do you want from me? If you don’t like how I look then leave

The day professor Mcgonnagal announced the Yule Ball you were excited. You were still, foolishly, holding onto hope for your relationship with Fred. You figured that the ball would be the little push he needed to realize he still liked you. But, as I said, it was foolish to hope.

I can’t get you off my mind. You can’t get yours off her

(the lyric is hostess but i changed it to her for fic purposes)

Fred had decided he would try to push his attraction to Angelina down, he figured it would fade away if he paid it no attention. But the more he tried, the more he thought about her. He was constantly scolding himself for thinking of her, instead of his girlfriend, who was so in love with him. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He thought you were attractive for sure, and he liked your personality, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he were with her.

“Hey darling,” he said one night when you were alone in the common room.

“Yeah Freddie?” you replied.

“I know we’re dating already, but do you want to go to the ball with me?”

You giggled. “Of course I’ll go with you Freddles”

“Oh? Freddles is new”. He said poking you in the side.

The poking turned into a full on tickle war. Fred was laying half on top of you, tickling you mercilessly, and you were laughing to the point where you could barely breathe. It almost felt, to you, like it was back to normal. You had decided to just not notice his lingering stares at Angelina, and hold out hope that he really did love you like he said he did.

While it might have felt like it was back to normal, it was really just the calm before the storm.

The ball was finally here, you had gone out with Ginny and Hermione earlier that week to get dresses. Your dress was a gorgeous, floor length, long sleeve, y/f/c dress. Ginny had done your hair for you, and you had a simple makeup look. Ever since you and Fred started dating, Ginny had started calling you her older sister.

“My sister is gorgeous!” she exclaimed, as she pushed the last bobby pin into your hair.

“Oh hush you! You’re going to be the prettiest girl at the ball Ginny, Neville is a lucky man.” you said, trying to hide your blush. You felt like a princess, you had really felt like things were turning around with you and Fred. You were hoping that tonight would be a good night.

You watched her lips reserving tables

You arrived at the top steps with Hermione. You both looked absolutely gorgeous, and you felt it too. George tapped Fred on the arm, and jerked his head in your direction. As he looked over to you, he felt his heart drop. You were breathtakingly gorgeous, but he just didn’t love you anymore. He felt like a foul git for leading you on for so long when he was in love with another girl. You were all the right things, you were a perfect girlfriend, but he just couldn’t love you the same way he loved Angelina. He had planned on breaking up with you sometime a few days after the ball. He was smart enough not to break it off before the ball, leaving you dateless and heartbroken.

You both danced almost the whole night. It was one of the last few slow dances, and you had reached the end of your rope. From the outside, it looked like you and Fred were having the time of your lives. In actuality, you had spent the night watching your boyfriend stare longingly at another girl.

As my ugly mouth kept running “love me, love me”

You were dancing to a muggle song, swaying back and forth.

“Why Fred? You snapped.

“Why what, my love?” Fred asked, confused.

“Why can’t you just love me?” you said, as tears began to cloud your vision.

Fred felt his heart drop for what felt like the millionth time that night. He thought he had been somewhat discreet with his watching of Angelina. You begged to differ.

“What do you mean darling?”. He really didn’t want to have this conversation yet. As much as he knew it was wrong, you were safe for Fred, if you had to have this conversation, it meant you were over.

“Don’t play daft with me Fred, I’ve had enough of this. For months, I’ve watched you stare at her, I’ve watched you fall deeper in love with her, and further out of love with me. If you even loved me in the first place. I can’t do it anymore Fred. If you didn’t love me anymore, fine, but tell me. It’s been gut wrenching to know you don’t feel anything for me anymore.” you said.

He was speechless. He didn’t know how to respond, he wanted to deny it, he wanted to tell you he did love you and that he didn’t love Angelina. He wanted to, but he couldn’t, because it wasn’t the truth.

“Love me” you said, tears now freely falling down your face. “Love me”

His heart broke at the sight of you, he did this. He made you cry like this, and there wasn’t anything he could do to fix it.

“I’m sorry” was all he said, his voice cracking. That was all he could say? ‘I’m sorry’ wasn’t good enough. So there you left him, standing alone, with just a softly spoken “Goodbye Freddie” and a shake of your head.

After about two days, news had spread to pretty much the whole school that you and Fred had broken up.

After 2 weeks, Fred and Angelina were together. Turns out she had always had a bit of a crush on him too.

But you were stuck in the same place. You barely left your dorm, only for classes and occasionally the library, Hermione and Ginny would bring you food, so you could avoid Fred as much as possible. Ginny was furious with him, she didn’t talk to him for almost 2 full weeks. You felt as though you were moving in slow motion. The events from the yule ball played out in your mind every night in your dreams, you felt like you were cursed to relive those events nightly as everyone moved on around you. You were so hopelessly in love with Fred that the initial shock of the break up had you nearly incapacitated. Anytime you did see him, you quickly walked the other direction.

After a month, you started feeling more human. You still felt empty inside sometimes, like there was something wrong with you, like there was something you could’ve done differently. You still broke down when you were alone, you sobbed and sobbed, you were a mess of a person. You’d gotten dark circles under your eyes, but as the days went on, it got easier. You started eating meals in the Great Hall again, you started doing things more with your friends, you started feeling more and more like yourself again. Fred may have broken you, but you pieced yourself back together, slowly but surely.

It did hurt to see Fred treating Angelina the same way he treated you at the beginning of your relationship, looking at her like she hung the moon and stars, like she was the only person in the room, but it was manageable. You knew that you and Fred were just not meant to be.

You sat on the lawn one day, since you and Fred broke up, you had started journaling. It helped to get out all your thoughts on what happened. It was the early evening on a Saturday, the sun was setting, painting the sky with gorgeous shades of yellow, orange, pink, and blue. You could hear birds chirping in the trees around you. And right then, you knew you’d be ok.

#angsty #fred weasley fan fiction #sad fred weasley fan fiction #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #i woke up and chose violence #fred weasley smut #george weasley #george weasley smut #harry potter fan fiction #harry potter #draco malfoy #draco malfoy smut #harry potter smut

205 notes · View notes