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plush-rabbit · 2 years

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Dating Enji to Get Back at Touya

Request: Idk if youre down to write thing kind of thing but the idea is; Touya is a shitty immature boyfriend whos never treated reader right even though theyve been dating for a long while. They finally break up after a big fight inwhich reader is just done with his bullshit. They sont talk for a while until he sees reader with his father of all people. Reader is with Enji and he treats her RIGHT☆ he spoils her and treats her like the women she is. Touya is not happy♡ thats it, just reader dating Touyas dad for revenge but actually is really happy w him

A/N: I’m gonna try a different format here so let me know how you think of it, kind of like a fic, but not a full one

Touya isn’t the best partner to have. He’s never cheated on you, but he’s so dismal of your feelings. He can be mean- ignoring you, walking out on you when you’re crying, staying for a quick fuck and leaving immediately and if he doesn’t leave immediately, he falls asleep and wakes up early to raid your fridge and leave without a note.

There’s a certain charm to the relationship. Despite him being mean and the fights where he’d raise his voice and tell you nasty things in order to hurt you, to see you cry- he could also be sweet. He’d call you pretty, and kiss your cheek. He could fuck you nice and soft, and kiss you with so much passion you could have mistaked it for some deeper feeling. He wasn’t the type to say sorry, but he would bring you gifts- expensive ones that he’d know you’d like.

But the fighting is too much. It’s mean and cruel, and both of you brought out the worst in each other. And one day, you had enough. You broke it off and deleted his contact and even though you couldn't bring yourself to delete the text messages, you did.

Maybe you should have gone with his brother, Natsuo, who you know would be a sweetheart and would treat you better than anyone could. Or maybe his sister, Fuyumi. She was always cute and had such a sweet voice. But, for better or for worse, his father was there, going through a divorce and desperate for something or someone to just relieve himself on, you and him both took advantage of one another after a few drinks and a confirmation that both of you were single.

Due to his failed marriage, Enji uses you as a rebound. It works out, really, since all you’re using him for is just to get back at his son. A “fuck you” and the pride- or something far more ugly and hurt- getting to tell him that you fucked his dad in his childhood home. And Enji gets to not be so alone anymore, gets to relieve his stress and use you in all sorts of harsh ways without a complaint. He gets to fuck somebody else while going through a mid-life crisis.

That’s all the relationship that it is, a ”fuck you” and a rebound.

But then he visits one night after a long day of work, and like father, like son, he wants to use you, forget about his day. Maybe he should have called you, checked to see if you were awake, because even if light peeks out from under the door, you could be asleep. He takes out your key, and tries not to think about the implication of having a key to your home, and opens the door. Enji has memorized the walk to your room already, could walk the exact number of steps and turn without pumping into the corner of the wall if he were blinded.

He can already feel his cock harden at the thought of getting to scoop you into his arms and have you ride him, to feel you clench and kiss his neck. His mouth salivates at the thought of kissing you. There are whimpers coming inside and his perverted mind, he knows he came at the right time- all it will be for the night is rushed kisses and a wet hole aching for him.

And then he opens the door, and you’re under the blanket, crying and taking shuddering breaths. You’re crying and you take notice of him. You can’t stop the tears, and you can’t mask the heaviness in your voice when you speak.

“Enji,” you sniffle and he stands at the doorway. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” you rub at your eyes and tears drip down the curve of your face- “I didn’t know you were coming.”

He thinks about when Rei would cry and how he’d snarl and yell. How his youngest would stand between them, and he thinks about all he would do is yell even more. Late in the night, he would apologize, and in the morning, he would fuck her, muttering against her skin about how he loved her.

His lips are dry and he can’t tell you that he just came here for sex.

“I- uh. I’m sorry.” You’re apologizing- for either the awkward situation or for crying. “I’m a mess right now.” You scratch at the space where your shoulder and neck meet and you leave lines behind. “You can leave if you want.” He can leave, because if you had told his son, Touya would have left in a heartbeat and you would cry about it, but you wouldn’t hold it against him. He would come back the next day and wouldn’t ask how you feel. Tears shine in your eyes, and you’re alone in your room, crying. “It’s fine,” your voice breaks and your lips tremble.

He thinks to himself that he doesn’t want to see another significant other cry because of him.

Quickly, he takes steps towards you, and he crouches by the bed. “What’s wrong?” His hand cups the side of your face, a tear catching on his thumb. “Did something happen?”

You start with a few heavy breaths, and your eyes shine and he can see himself in your eyes, kneeled on the floor, trying to comfort you. All you can do is cry, muttering about how work was awful and you can’t stand it anymore. You cry and he has such an urge to hold you, to run his calloused hands down your back and make it all better.

He isn’t sure when it happened, but he’s on your bed, stripped down to a white tank and his briefs, and you on his chest, with hands entangled in one another and his other hand running up and down his back. You fall asleep beside him, and he stares at you for a long time. His arm is asleep under you, and he makes no attempt to pull away from you.

In the morning, you wake up and make breakfast for him. He sits with you for it, and sits on the couch next to you, his arm spread against the back of the sofa watching the morning news.

“I’m sorry for last night,” you say without looking away from the television. “I- uh- if you have time, I can make it up to you.” Your hand is on the inner of his thigh, and you look up at him, parting your lips and grabbing his hand that rests behind you, feebly guiding it to the back of your head.

“Sorry, but I have to go to work.” He kisses the top of your head and stands up. “I’ll come by tonight.”

If it was Touya, you would have been sure that was a lie, bet your life on it and bet your favorite blanket too. But Enji does come by tonight, and he comes with flowers and takeout and he sits with you, and he kisses you goodnight before sleeping beside you. And in the morning, he’s still there, sleeping beside you with his face buried into your chest.

“You really didn't have to do all this,” you tell him, the petal of a tulip tickling the tip of your nose.

“Do you like them?” He feels like a child, standing awkwardly, hoping you’d say yes and waiting for your answer is the most nerve wracking thing he’s done all day. You nod and tell him you love them, keeping them close to you and unable to keep your hands off of the petals. And he swells with pride knowing you like what he got you.

Dating Enji is odd. He’s been married, but not once has he ever called you Rei. Never treated

He’s large and imposing. And he’s kind and soft. He likes having you close to him, always a hand on you when you’re within arm’s reach. All the little things are celebrated, and wants you with him.

you as her or compared you both. He kisses you good morning and kisses you goodnight. He makes you cry and apologizes. He holds you tight and tries to fix himself. You wonder what happened to Toiya to make him be so cruel, but you wonder who Enji was before you, why his ex-wife wanted to divoarce him. Why some of his children don’t call. He must have been mean before. You wait for the other shoe to drop, wait for him to yell at you and call you mean names until you cry. You wait for him to do something, but he never does.

He kisses you sweetly and makes room in his closet for you. He peels you mandarins and cracks open your pistachios. He holds your bags and carries you inside when you fall asleep on the drive home. He treats you so well, and it makes you want him.

Touya was so sure that you would come back to him. Whether it was for a quick fuck or actually wanting to get back together, he wasn’t sure, but he knew- or believed- that you would come crawling back.

And days turn to weeks and weeks to months, and he’s with someone else, hoping that you’d call him in the middle of the night, asking him to come over.

There’s something that he needs from his father, and when he walks into the smaller house than the one he grew up with- the family home being left to his mother- he can hear your laugh. He thinks to himself that he must be so stuck on you, that you must be the exact same way. It’s early in the morning, and he’s still a bit tired, a headache about to form in the back of his skull, and he thinks that it’s his imagination, until he walks into the kitchen, and sees you leaned against the counter, and his father with his hand on your hip.

Neither of you take notice of him until he clears his throat and you both tense, turning to look at him.

His father looks a bit ashamed, but you don’t. You wave at him and return to cleaning up the table where two sets of dinnerware rests, a plate once full of food, now just scraps. Touya’s stomach drops and he realizes what all this is. His father fucking his ex, and living with them in some faux happy daydream.

The worst part of whatever weird situation that he had the unfortunate luck of walking into, is that you actually look happy.

You wear a necklace, one far better than the one he could ever have given you, and his father is speaking to him, wrds all garbled up and nothing more than nonsense as he stares at you, ready for a punchline, ready for you to be mean and attempt to make him jealous by kissing his father in front of him. All you do is kiss his cheek.

“I’m gonna go throw the trash, ‘kay Enji?” Your fingertips tap at his jaw to turn him towards you, giving him a kiss and walking away.

You’re on a first name basis with his dad, and his father’s gaze follows you, watching you walk away with a smile he doesn’t think he’s ever seen him make.

“I know it must be odd-” Enji starts, and it goes unlistened to, only glimpses and phrases, actually making sense. “-it just happened-” , “They’re really nice-”, “I hope you don’t mind.”

The last sentence is such a slap to his face that he gets up and walks out, slamming the front door hard enough that picture frames rattle.

When he goes outside, he finds you there, the bag of trash beside you, and your phone held in your hand. You ask if he’s leaving already, and you wish him for a safe drive. You don’t even give him a spare glance.

He’s furious and he hates himself and you and his dad. He hates how happy you looked. How domesticated the both of you were- are. He hates how you moved on from him. That you meant it when you said you were done with his bullshit. He thought he would have had another chance. But he knows himself- he would have ruined it too, and even though the relationship was awful, he still went to you when you called him. He still bought you gifts and he still has your house keys.

“Do you live with him now?” His voice is emotionless, and there’s a hint of disgust in there to ask whatever void is growing in him.

You shrug. “Yeah. Got my own toothbrush here and everything.” You smile. “My place was starting to get cramped anyways.”

Inside, Enji calls for you, and quickly, you stand, wishing Touya a good day, and he stands outside with a bag of trash and a key with no home to return to.

#bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha enji #enji todoroki #endeavor x you #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #touya x you #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #i hoep you like this #this got me simping for endeavor #i think i wanna write for fatgum again #anyways im super tired #hope you like it!!#love you bye!!

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jkslipppiercing · 3 months

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Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk

♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?

♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.

♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙

♧ WC: 1.6K

♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee

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JK's POV

She whines,

Throws tantrums,

Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,

And I still want her lips around my cock.

Why?

That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.

I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.

She ruined my night.

I was fucking.

Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.

But then, she just had to cock-block me.

My best friend’s sister.

Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.

Usually, I love brats.

My type.

They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.

Keyword: try.

Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.

Fucked right and put in her place.

Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.

Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.

She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.

Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.

When I first met her, I mean.

She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.

Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.

Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.

Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.

He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.

He's a friend. A close one.

A tolerable one.

That can't be said about a certain someone, though.

She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.

Bullshit.

And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.

Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.

Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.

That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.

His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.

Sly motherfucker.

Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.

Annoyingly soft features.

So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.

But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.

It's her innocence.

How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?

When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.

She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.

I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.

Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.

Fuck, I hate this woman.

Hate everything about her.

How she moves.

How she walks.

How she fucking talks.

Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.

No- not like- is.

She is a brat.

A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.

Including mine.

Fuck.

Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.

She's enjoying herself.

Not for long.

I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.

I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.

I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.

He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.

Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.

Ew.

He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.

Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.

My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.

My blood boils.

White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.

My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.

Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.

Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.

Isn't she here with friends?

How could they leave her alone like this?

Her brother's here. Her brother is here.

My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.

Fuck.

I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.

Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?

Like she's not even aware of where she is.

Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.

Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.

I might punch a wall.

My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.

She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.

It's adorable.

But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.

Repress.

"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."

She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.

My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.

My breathing turns heavy again.

Repress.

"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.

His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.

Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.

"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.

She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.

If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?

I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-

Repress.

My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.

"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"

The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.

Good. Bare minimum.

I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.

Almost.

But I have to get Y/N home.

I can't stand this anymore.

I can't stand her anymore.

Coming here alone? Dressed like that?

I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.

How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?

I'm so goddamn confused.

And infuriated.

And...angry.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.

Fuck me.

The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.

But again, Y/N's more important.

I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.

My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.

I might develop heart problems.

A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.

I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.

I have other things to care for.

Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.

God, It's gonna be a long night.

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