#We miss you Hana | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

niningtori · 9 days

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supermodel | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after finding out one of your closest friends sabotaged your relationship with beomgyu in hopes of having him all to herself, you end up spending a night with him. you may come to regret it when you realize beomgyu may not have been as innocent as he initially seemed.

genre: romance, angst, MELODRAMA, yandere, smut (MDNI!!!)

warnings: MDNI!!! yandere!gyu (super manipulative!gyu at least), more (justified imo) cheating, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, pregnancy kink, voyeurism (ig?), dom!gyu, sub!gyu, if i'm missing anything lmk

word count: 6.2k

notes: alright ;_; after much debate i'm reposting this probably only for a few days just so everyone who wanted to read can read it before i (probably) delete again! posting this made me feel rlly insecure for some reason but thanks to my moots and anons i feel a lot better ab it :) at least for a little bit. also, i know the direction may have taken quite the turn but this is genuinely just how it came out 😭 if you don't like it i'm sorry ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ )

it’s hard to reason with beomgyu as he presses hot kisses down your neck, but it’s not like you’re not trying. you think you’re trying really hard, actually, but it’s nothing in comparison to the effort he’s putting in to make you lose your mind. you have no control over your moans when he sucks a hickey into your neck. you feel heat pooling in your stomach as he grabs your ass and snakes his other hand up your hoodie to catch one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he’s finally tasted you and, like a man starved, he’ll be damned before someone takes away what’s his.

“b-beomie, we can’t! let’s go back to my place, at least,” you try to reason, but your resolve is weakening as you feel your pussy wetten under his caresses.

“shh, hana’s not gonna be home tonight,” he whispers. “just want you so bad, can’t wait.” he looks so earnest, you can’t bear to part from him. his puppy eyes look devastated, so what else can you do besides relent? and he knows it, too. now he’s got you.

he leads you to hana’s bedroom, where he’s spent countless nights listening to her talk about how much she loves him, has loved him for years. he wants to roll his eyes at this, but he doesn’t want you to misunderstand, so he keeps it to himself. he’ll admit, she really did pull the wool over his eyes when she said you didn’t like him, so he can’t wait to see her reaction when she realizes you two have finally figured it out. if she wants to play dirty, they can both try their hand and see who wins.

and it feels an awful lot like he’s winning when he sees you undress once again, body bare with traces of him on every part of you. even if he hadn’t marked you up so much, and he has, there’s still evidence of his impact on you leaking out of your pussy. you letting him come inside was truly unexpected, but welcome, nonetheless. he knows, when you’ve sobered up from your lustful daze, you’ll ask him if he’s ever fucked hana raw. you’ll probably cry again and rush to get plan b, but he’ll tell you he’s not stupid. he’d never fuck anyone without protection, especially someone he likes as little as he likes hana. he just likes you so much, he couldn’t help but want to feel you. you’re everything he dared to wish you would be. even better, actually, and now that he’s tasted you, he never wants to stop.

the feeling of wanting to be close to you reemerges when he sees you dropping to your knees for him. you fiddle with the zipper of his pants and he sighs when cool air meets his bare cock. and you're so perfect with your makeup smudged, hair in disarray, and mouth open, prettily presented for fucking.

you start with a lick of your lips and he’s already rock hard from the anticipation. you grab his base and tease little licks up and down his length. he never thought he’d be particularly into that, really, but you look so hungry for him it makes him whine. finally, you lick the precum off of his tip and he moans when you shallowly take in the tip of his cock, hollowing out your cheeks. you bob your head shallowly and it’s taking every ounce of self control he has not to grab the back of your head and shove himself down your throat. but he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he lets you tease him. for now, at least. you take more and more of him into your warm mouth until you can feel his tip searing the back of your throat. you can’t possibly fit all of him into your mouth, so you take the rest of him in your hands. you look up at him with watery eyes, almost like you’re asking for his approval, and his already thinning patience snaps. he grabs your hair and pumps himself in and out of you. you try to meet his thrusts with teasing swipes of your tongue, never once breaking eye contact. the combination of your gaze and the sight of your drool mixed with his precum dripping out of your mouth drives him crazy.

“baby, look, you’re drooling all over my cock.” you hum in agreement, but a nasty thought crosses his mind as he remembers that you almost went out with another man tonight.

“mmm, who taught you how to use that slutty little mouth?” he asks, riling himself up for reasons unknown. the thought of someone else seeing you like this is enough to push him to madness. he fucks himself into your mouth mercilessly. you’re coughing and slobbering all over his cock, but it’s only when hot tears pour down your face that he registers what he’s doing. how can he bear to hurt you? he pulls out and you’re gasping for air.

“shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. c’mere,” he coos, leading you to the bed.

you lay down shakily and he takes a moment just to admire your body and the work he’s done to it. he can’t control the want in his gaze when he sees your pussy dripping on hana’s comforter. it’s sick to see, in a way, but it excites him even more.

“turn around,” he commands, and you would, you really, really would, but your limbs feel so weak, it’s a chore. he sighs and roughly turns you on your stomach himself. he manhandles you into kneeling on all fours and it’s all you can do not to buckle under such force, but you can’t deny the way it makes your pussy clench around nothing when he does this. as if he can read your mind, he lets out a soft laugh as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes himself in. you’ve obviously just fucked, but you’re still as tight and hot as the first time. slowly, he feels you stretch and spasm to accommodate his length – pussy gripping him like a vise. he shakes when he feels himself completely sheathed in you.

“g-good girl,” he praises. “so good for me.” then, without giving you another moment to adjust, he begins thrusting into you. his hips meet your ass and he’s awestruck by the sight of it as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix relentlessly. as he’s pumping into your heat, you don’t mean for your arms to give out from under you, but they do. he’s just fucking you so good you can’t help but feel weak. he chuckles at how you’re becoming undone after just a few strokes, but truthfully? he’s endeared. you were so brave in talking back to him earlier, but that attitude is completely gone as you lay there and let him take you over and over again.

“nghh… not so hard, beomie,” you moan.

“is it good, baby? i can feel you milking my cock. tell me it’s good, or i’ll stop,” he threatens.

“mmm, ‘s good! too good!”! you cry.

you’re so busy moaning out beomgyu’s name with your face mashed in the pillows, you really don’t hear the apartment door open and keys being thrown carelessly on the table, but as for beomgyu? he hears it all and it brings a mean, lopsided grin to his face. you’d think he would, at the very least, slow down, but he only rams harder and harder into you. the sound of wetness and skin slapping skin echo throughout the room. hana really wasn’t supposed to be home, this much is true, but what beomgyu didn’t tell you is that she had texted him saying her plans have changed and that he should come over. truly, he couldn’t have conjured up a better outcome than the one unfolding before him.

“beomgyu?!” hana shrieks. you’re so surprised you nearly jump out of beomgyu’s grasp, but he holds your ass in place as he continues his thrusts.

“don’t listen to her, just feel me,” he says in a raspy tone. and what can you do besides listen when he drills himself even harder into you? when you feel the veins of his cock dragging against your insides, you’re tuning out hana’s desperate cries, intentionally or not.

“coming inside, okay?” he, well, you would say ‘asks’, but it’s more of a statement of fact rather than a question. “take it all, baby,” he says as his hips begin to stutter. he smacks your ass — just because he can — and you feel it pulsate throughout your entire body as you clench around him, seeing nothing but white behind your eyelids as your release finally comes along with his.

you’re gasping for air when you finish. he carefully pulls out and watches as your cum and his mix together in the most sinful way. it’s a truly a sight to see, and if he had more time, he would be whipping out his phone and capturing the moment to revisit the next time he’s alone, but hana’s words are cutting into his bliss before he can fully appreciate the sight before him.

“b-beomie? w-what’s going on?” hana asks, tears streaming unabashedly down her pretty face. beomgyu is far too preoccupied to appreciate them, though, as he gently helps you sit up and thoughtfully wipes the drool and tears off of your face.

“‘what’s going on?’” he begins mockingly. “do you really need me to show you again?” he sneers.

meanwhile, you feel like a deer in headlights as you meet hana’s gaze. you feel dirty and small as you try your damndest to cover yourself up. hana’s soft eyes harden while she stares at you.

“you. you did this, you fucking slut,” she spits. you break your gaze and stare down at your naked body. you feel incredibly vulnerable because, as you already know, she’s right. you feel your eyes heat up with tears, this time from guilt and humiliation rather than pleasure.

“you’d better watch your fucking mouth,” beomgyu says, eyebrows furrowed and voice even deeper than usual.

“i just don’t understand. why? why her? and how could you do this to me? you said you loved me!” she shrieks, grabbing beomgyu’s arm. he harshly pulls away and instead collects your sweats and hoodie. you can’t help but stare. he said he loved her then he turned around and fucked you? oh no.

“well, i lied, if that’s not clear enough,” he shrugs, gingerly dressing you like you’re some kind of catatonic doll. and, right now, you might as well be as you let him do what he wants. his callous words don’t match his gentle actions and it’s making your brain short-circuit.

“if and when he does the same shit to you,” she says, looking at you with more hurt than you’ve ever seen on a person, “don’t you fucking dare come crying to me. or any of our friends, actually. just wait ‘til they hear what you fucking did.” you shiver at her ominous words. she’s right, after all. beomgyu dropped her the second you showed interest in him, who’s to say he won’t do the same to you? sure, he’s acting lovey dovey now, but you’ve seen firsthand how quickly his tune can change. you’re absolutely fucked. it’s your word against hers, and with the evidence of your betrayal seeping into her sheets, you don’t like your odds. you can’t help but stare at beomgyu, and, as if he’s reading your mind, he says his next words patiently.

“i love you. i would never hurt you like this.” he loves you now? you continue to look at him doubtfully. his words seem cheap after hana’s unforgiving speech, and he realizes he’s losing you when you don’t respond. hana doesn’t stop there, though.

“if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he’ll do to you,” she laughs. hana is, objectively speaking, a lot more of a catch than you are. and to the very bitter end, she won’t let you fucking forget it.

“shut your fucking mouth!” he exclaims and she flinches, as do you. you’ve never seen him so angry and it’s enough to scare you.

“... i should go,” you croak.

“yeah, you should,” hana ridicules. you do an incredibly shaky walk of shame as you quickly gather your things.

“hey, wait!” he pleads, but you’re already booking it out of the door. he goes to run after you, but hana grabs him forcefully by his shoulder and he spins around to face her. you slam the door, not wanting to know what kind of makeup sex they will probably be having relatively soon. as soon as you’re gone, hana begins.

“are you fucking crazy? her, of all people?!” she hisses.

“i thought i told you to watch how you talk about her,” he says lowly. his eyes are so intense, she’s momentarily stunned, but he’s crazy if he thinks that’ll shut her up. perhaps to her eventual regret, she says her next words.

“if i tell everyone, she’ll be fucking ruined. she’ll have nobody after this.”

“so?”

“so, stay with me,” she says softly, while, to his disgust, grabbing his hands and pleading with him. “stay with me, and i won’t tell anybody.” she looks as pathetic as a dog right now, and her words make him laugh in her face.

“tell them,” he says.

“w-what?” she sputters.

“tell them all. i want you to tell them how i fucked one of your best friends and got her pregnant. tell them how i fucked her raw in your own bed. go on, i’d love to see their reactions when they find out.”

“you’re… you’re fucking crazy,” she gasps.

“maybe, but not crazy enough to stay with you,” he shrugs. “i got what i wanted, i don’t need you anymore.” for once, she shuts her mouth. the puzzle pieces finally fit together and her jaw drops in awe.

“you did this on purpose?”

“maybe you’re not as dumb as you look,” he sneers, and with that, he zips up his pants and pats her cheek. “you were okay in bed, but that’s about it.”

her tears are falling, but that does nothing to mar her beauty. still, his heart remains unfazed.

“when she finds out, she’ll leave you,” she sobs.

“and who will she believe? her ex friend who’s out to get her, or me? the only person she has left? i’d love to see who she believes.” his words leave her in even more tears, but he does nothing to placate her. he just grabs his shit and slams the door behind him.

hana wastes no time in telling your friends about your scandal. your incoming texts range from “what the fuck is wrong with you” to “is it true?” to “you’d better not show your face to us again”.

you attempt to explain yourself, but to no avail. even if hana lied to you first, you committed the ultimate betrayal with a smile on your face. nobody wants to hear your sob story about your forbidden love with beomgyu. nobody, not even your best friend, dares to defend you now.

the one person who’s on your side has been texting you relentlessly, though. beomgyu’s insistence on making sure you��re okay does little to quell the uneasiness in your heart. hana’s words resound in your head. “if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he does to you.” you don’t want to give him that chance, but your resolve is weakening when you feel yourself becoming more and more isolated from the people you used to call your friends.

for days, you don’t leave your house except to go to work. where else can you go? you don’t have anyone to go out with you anymore. still, beomgyu texts and attempts to call you through it all. his messages are all about how much he loves you, how much he misses you, how much he needs you. how much he promises to make things right with you and how you’re the only one he’s wanted all along. more and more, you feel yourself slipping away. even though you never respond, you still sift through his messages and it’s enough to bring smiles, no matter how small, to your face. he loves you, wants you, needs you. who else do you have in your life to say things like that to you?

still, the thought of trusting him scares you to your bones. what if he does the same shit to you? you don’t have a support system anymore. you don’t have anybody to rely on when he inevitably hurts you in the same way. why wouldn't he, after all? you’re no match for the kind of girls who come his way. what happens when he gets sick of you and wants to fuck another girl in your bed? you’re stuck with these thoughts as you nurse a bottle of vodka, alone in your apartment with nobody but yourself. this is what you deserve, you think.

a knock on your door is enough to pull you out of your drunken haze. is it one of your friends? could they have finally gotten over their intial shock and disgust and understood that you didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did? you stumble to the door and you’re too drunk to even think about checking who it is before desperately swinging open the door. you are not met with the familiar face of one of your friends, however. instead, you see the face of the boy who’s been haunting your dreams for the past few nights.

“beomgyu?” he looks absolutely devastated, eyes reddened and wet with his face ghostly pale. he reeks of alcohol and he stands almost tremblingly. he doesn’t respond to you, just stares at you with the same intensity that entranced you from the very beginning.

“what are you doing here?” you ask.

“can i come in? please?” you’ve never been able to say no to him, and you especially can’t in his current pathetic state. you move from the doorway to allow him access and quietly shut the door behind him.

“what do you want?” you try.

“want you,” he sobs, tears finally flowing from his sad brown eyes. “only ever wanted you.” your heart aches when you see him like this. you thought hana’s reaction was devastating enough, but he looks absolutely wrecked right now, putting her despair to shame, really.

“i don’t know what to say,” you admit. “we fucked up, plain and simple. and i don’t know how i can trust you after what we did.” you’re not a victim in this, to be clear, but you’re far too vulnerable to accept the heart that he's holding out for you so carelessly.

“i know, and i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. what can i do to make you trust me?” he begs. your already soft heart softens even more at his words, but you have to be realistic.

“i… i don’t think i can. if you had just talked to me in the first place things could've been different,” you reason. this only puts the boy in an even worse state. he’s almost wailing now, and he looks to you for comfort.

“p-please, just please. give me one chance,” he cries, looking absolutely frantic. “i’ll prove it to you, just let me.” he reaches for your face and you didn’t even realize you’re crying until he swipes away your tears. well, you’re already going to hell. what’s the point in atoning for your sins now?

as if he can read your mind, he musters up a shaky smile before leaning in and giving you a chaste kiss. his lips taste salty, but sweet, and he’s kissing you with a passion you’ve never felt before. you almost believe him when he says you’re the only one. almost.

“h-how do i know you’re not going to do the same thing to me?” you ask unsteadily.

“i would never,” he says immediately. “i would never hurt you.” at least, not like this. but you don’t know that yet.

in the weeks following his drunken appearance at your door, being with beomgyu is even better than you thought it would be. it’s like a switch has been turned back on and he’s back to treating you like a princess, almost like the months since your “breakup” never happened. he randomly brings you flowers, showers you with kisses, and he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you along with declarations of love, which you never directly reciprocate. no matter how well he treats you, though, there’s an underlying sense of unease. you still find it difficult to fully trust him, and he can tell. it’s driving him to the brink of madness trying to come up with ways to show you how much he cares.

you’re in the middle of pensively reevaluating the nature of your relationship with beomgyu for the 100th time when you hear a knock on your door. at this point, you don't even bother checking who it is because you already know it'll be beomgyu. no matter how desperately you wish it were one of your ex-friends, you’re always met with his face, instead. you open the door and you’re shocked, to put it mildly. standing before you is not the beomgyu you know and (probably) love, but hana.

“we need to talk,” she grumbles. almost as if you’re possessed, you let her in without much fuss. is she here to rekindle your friendship? to tell you she’ll forgive you after what you’ve done to her?

“hana, listen i’m so incredibly sor—”

“save it,” she says, lifting her hand. “i’m only here ‘cause i have something i need to say to you. it took me weeks to come here because i don’t even wanna look at you.” you gulp and nod, genuinely anxious as to what she has in store for you.

“i’m just going to tell you straight up. beomgyu’s not who you think he is,” she deadpans.

“w-what do you mean?” if she’s talking about how he’ll eventually betray you, you’ve already thought of that. why she thinks this is news to you, you don’t know.

“listen to me, he planned this whole fucking thing.” what could she possibly mean by that? he planned to get caught by her? that doesn’t even make sense. “i told him i’d be home the night that i walked in on you.” your jaw drops in horror, but she continues as if she doesn’t notice.

“i think… i think he heard us over the phone and knew you’d be there before meeting with jay. he told me he wanted our friends to find out and to see who you’d believe if i told you. whether you believe me or not, i really don’t give a fuck, but it’s true. he said he got what he wanted, so he doesn’t need me anymore.” she chokes on her last words and you can't help but feel sorry for her, but that feeling is overshadowed by the feelings of anger towards beomgyu. you don’t think hana would lie about this. she looks so flustered and heartbroken, you don’t believe for a second that she’s lying just to rile you up. before you can reply, the door opens and beomgyu’s figure appears in your doorway. he has a smile on his face, but it drops lightning fast when he sees who’s standing there.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he says with a scowl.

“i’m on my way out,” hana mumbles, pushing past him. he doesn’t even attempt to stop her. he registers the mixed emotions on your face and he can guess what she said to you without much effort.

“let me explain,” he says lowly, already heading towards you to placate you like you’re some sort of wild animal he has to coax. and you’re so angry, you might as well be.

“explain what? that you ruined my fucking life?” you spit. he flinches at your tone, even more so at your next words. “what i don’t understand is why? is my life a fucking game to you?” his face crumbles at this.

“n-no! never!” he sputters.

“then what is this? what’s your reason for planning for hana to walk in us? is this a kink or something?” he shakes his head frantically.

“you don’t understand, i just wanted it to be us,” he pleads. “i don’t like them. they’ll just try to take you away from me.”

“take me away from them? beomgyu, i’m not some fucking toy. i’m a person. a person whose life you fucking ruined for no reason!” you exclaim. you’re so frustrated you could cry, so you do. does he not realize how badly he fucked you over? “you promised you’d never hurt me,” you sob.

“i-i did it for us! they wouldn’t care about how we feel… they’d just take hana’s side without even thinking about it!” he argues, grabbing your hands. you want to pull away, but if you do, that means you’ll be completely alone.

“you didn’t even give them a chance,” you reason. “now it’s really over,” you say between sobs. “i… i could’ve talked to them, but you ruined it!”

“i just want you all to myself, is that so bad?” he asks, as if he genuinely can't understand why you’re so upset. he’s actually sick in the head.

“why?!” you ask again, ripping your hands from his grasp.

“because i love you,” he says desperately. “i just love you so much. i’m sorry, i’ll never do anything like this again,” he promises.

“yeah, you won’t,” you reply bitterly. “because i won’t give you that chance.”

“w-what do you mean?” he asks, lips trembling and eyes red.

“i’m not doing this with you anymore. this whole thing was doomed from the start,” you reply firmly. he shakes his head as if denying it with fervor will undo what you’ve said, tears now flowing freely from his reddened eyes.

“no, p-please,” he cries. “i only did it because i love you so much. ever since i first saw you, i only ever wanted to be with you. i… i know i fucked up, but it was the only way. believe me, please.” your already soft heart is softening even more as you listen to the desperation in his voice. he sounds so lost and scared, as if he really doesn’t know what he’ll do if you tell him no. you briefly wonder if he’s ever heard the words: “no, beomgyu. you’ve gone too far this time.” but as you watch him come undone before you, you don’t think you’ll be able to be the one who tells him no, anyway.

“i’m giving you one, and i mean one, last chance. if you fuck up this time, i promise you, you’ll never see me again,” you declare. you don't know what you’re expecting, really, but the sight of even more tears streaming down his face is not it. he grabs you and pulls you in his warm and trembling embrace.

“th-thank you,” he cries. “you won’t regret this.”

“i’d better not,” you mumble. even if you do, you can’t deny the way your heart skips a beat at his pure, unadulterated need for you. even if you do come to regret it, it’s impossible to look at him right now and say he’s not being sincere. he pulls away from you and hurriedly captures your mouth, and as if your next words will take back what you said, he seals them in your throat before you can manage to get anything more out. as the kiss becomes more heated, you feel something hard and angry poking into your stomach.

“already?” you tease. he actually blushes at this.

“can’t help it. need you,” he replies sheepishly.

“you need me, huh? is that why you’ve been so bad?” you ask, palming him deliciously through his pants.

“n-not bad! just love you so much, couldn’t stop myself.” your temper actually flares a little at this. you palm him more harshly and his breath catches when you do.

“really? but you’ve been so bad, i don’t think you deserve me,” you say menacingly, pulling your hand away. he audibly whimpers at this.

“no, no, no, please! i’ll be good from now on,” he pleads as he grabs your hand and begins to snake it under the waistband of his pants. you let him, but you don’t take his hardened length into your hand like you usually would. instead, you tease the sensitive area around it, even going so far as to ghost your fingers over his balls, but you conveniently avoid giving him any sort of friction or attention, so he’s gasping when you give him a mean and unexpected tug.

“p-please stop teasing me,” he cries, eyes so beautiful and watery. “i know i’ve been bad, but i can make you feel so good.” he’s right, in a way. you’ve never and will never feel as good as you do when beomgyu pumps into you and shoots his hot load in your pussy, but he’s deranged if he thinks you’ll let him have you so easily tonight. not after what he’s done.

“hmm, i’m not so sure about that,” you hum. you lead him to your bedroom as if he’s hypnotized. you haven’t even let him enter you yet, if you’re going to let him do so at all, but he’s already acting like he’s drunk on you.

“strip,” you command simply. without any questions or doubts, he eagerly takes off his hoodie and shoves his pants down, stepping out of them and closer to you. it’s sickeningly sweet to see how possessed he is by you. he tries to take your own clothes off, but you smack his hand away.

“bad boy,” you say, and he whines like a dog. “lay down.” he does what you say, lying completely exposed on your bed as he gives a few pulls on his throbbing cock. “stop fucking touching yourself or you’re not getting anything from me,” you add, and he whines even louder.

“please touch me,” he begs, cock standing all red and weeping.

“you don’t deserve it,” you shrug. you take off your pants and he leches at the image of your pussy dripping wet for him, and so soon. all he can think about is how warm it is and how fervently he wants to be in it. he thinks you’re going to sit on his cock, because that would be the most natural course of action, but all you do is lay next to him and pull something out of your nightstand drawer. a vibrator. are you fucking serious?

“no!” he begs, already knowing how this is going to go.

“you can take what you get from me or you can beat it,” you bite back. that shuts him up. he’s biting his lip, trying not to get scolded again, but he can’t help but whine again when you spread your legs and turn your vibrator on.

“ah,” you moan as the rubber tip hits your clit. “feels so good.”

“i’d feel better,” he insists, eyes widened and desperate like a madman.

“touch yourself,” you say in response. “i'm not touching that dirty cock of yours, so take care of it yourself.” he doesn’t need to be told twice. he immediately spits on his hand and begins to wildly jerk his weeping cock. he whines at the friction. you, however, are so lost in the feeling of the vibrations pulsating throughout your pussy, you couldn’t seem to care less about what he does. this only makes him whine even louder. he’s experiencing pleasure, sure, but the sounds coming from him are exaggerated and theatrical. he’s just trying to get a rise out of you. he just wants you to look at him, is that too much to ask?

you open your eyes at his petulant noise and say your next words so quietly, if he wasn’t paying more attention, he’d miss them. “kiss me.” so he does. the kiss is filthy and nothing more than the tangling of tongues, but that combined with the stimulation on your poor pussy is enough to make you near the edge.

beomgyu can tell you’re close, and his kisses become even more heated as he abuses his cock under his hand. he’s moaning into your mouth, showing you, in no uncertain terms, just how badly he wants to be in you instead.

“let me do it,” he begs. “come around me, instead. it’ll feel so much better.” his dirty words break you out of your trance and you annoyedly shut the vibrator off while tossing it god knows where. you tear his hand away from his cock and mount him, teasingly rubbing yourself against him, but refusing to put it in. he whines and pouts, but you’re far too busy trying to get yourself off to appease him. then, as if he’s possessed, he raises his hips and his tip catches on your entrance. you both gasp at his shallow intrusion.

“p-please sit on it, it hurts,” he asks rather pathetically.

“i can’t, beomie. you haven’t even fingered me yet — you’ll break me in half,” you say provocatively. he whimpers at the imagery. “and you've been so bad, how can i let you get what you want? you’ll never learn if i do that.”

“i’ve learned! i promise, i’ve learned! just, please, help me,” he cries, bucking his hips up and holding your waist so hard you’ll know he’ll leave bruises.

“mmm, i don’t knowwww,” you drawl.

“please!” and with that, you angle your hips and begin to sink on his thick length. the stretch burns and you can’t help but cry out as you feel your pussy enveloping every inch of him mercilessly. he’s in tears when he feels you throbbing around him, pussy stretching to accommodate how big he is. when you finally, finally take him all in, he can’t help but begin to fuck into you wantonly.

“b-beomie, slow down!”

“c-can’t! feels so good,” he says, tears streaming down his pretty face. he grabs your waist even tighter and flips you around so you’re lying beneath him. his cock continues to hammer into you and you’re seeing stars. his mouth is open, drool pooling out of the corners of his lips, and he’s moaning out your name like a prayer.

“pussy so good, so perfect,” he babbles. “missed this. missed feeling you like this.”

“i missed it too,” you admit.

“wanted you, wanted you for so long,” he continues. you don’t even think he knows what he’s saying, but you can tell he means every word. he reaches to your stomach and presses down where his cock is ramming into you. your eyes roll back at the pleasure that comes with the pressure.

“my baby could be in here,” he muses. “our baby.” this should scare you into sobriety, but it does nothing of the sort. you find yourself tightening even further at the thought of him breeding you like a bitch.

“i’ll take care of you, i swear,” he says as he thrusts so hard your head nearly meets the headboard. “i’ll give you everything you need. sh-shit, baby, wanna fill you up so good you feel me for days,” those words in addition to his sloppy thrusts are what send you over the edge. you clench around him and he hisses at how you’re even tighter than usual. you feel his thrusts become even more sporadic and he’s emptying himself into you unceremoniously. as he softens, he pulls out and you wince at the feeling. to your surprise, he moves down to your pussy and begins to lap up all of the cum like a starving animal. then, he pulls you in for one last nasty kiss.

you don’t know if you necessarily trust beomgyu, but it’s hard not to at least try to when he basically prostrates himself in front of you on a daily basis. he lets you walk all over him, really. if you call him, he comes running. if you’re mad or upset, he soothes you. when you’re being unreasonable, he reasons, anyway. you still haven’t heard from your friends, but you’re starting to accept the fact that you never will. he introduces you to his friends, and surprisingly, they actually welcome you with open arms. apparently, they didn’t like hana very much and knew beomgyu always had a thing for you. you’re not sure how to feel about that, but you’re flattered, nonetheless.

you call beomgyu crazy, and maybe he is, but he always says it's because he's crazy in love with you. you want to playfully smack him when he says such cheesy words, but you're starting to really believe him.

#supermodel #niningtori #beomgyu smut #beomgyu angst #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt angst #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu hard hours #mdni

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spookysteddie · 4 months

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That Friday Night

Modern!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!fem!reader

read part one here

18+ MINORSDNI

cw: alcohol, drugs (weed and cocaine), clubbing, slight Dom!Eddie if you squint, possessive!Eddie, swearing, pet names, oral (fem!receiving), light choking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, edging, creampie. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.3k (I'm so sorry)

a/n: First of all, I want to thank every single person who liked, reblogged or made comments about part one. I was shitting myself posting it because (like I said) this is not an original thought. I'd read a few and it gave me this wave of inspiration. I am very proud of this part. It's also a little long (sorry sorry sorry I couldn't stop) . Also I don't think I'll be doing a tag list? When I used to do that no one on the list would like the fic and it was a lot of work. I hope that is okay? Let me know if you want more! I love and appreciate all of you!

...

You weren’t the type of person who got shy. Your entire job is being in front of a camera, telling people what you like, what you wear, the type of music you listen to. You did brand deals and went on lots of trips with people you didn’t know. Public interaction was easy for you and you definitely enjoyed it.

But being personally invited to your favorite band's concert (even if you had tickets already) as their frontman's personal guest? It makes you weak in the knees.

Telling your team about the phone call went about as good as one would expect. Anna and Case frown at you while continuing to say ‘you could’ve let it go to voicemail and we could’ve handled it directly with his people. AND why did you have him send the information directly to you?’

They weren't necessarily wrong in being upset. There were plenty of ways a conversation like that could be twisted and fucked with, especially if, for whatever reason, someone was recording the phone call. It was very easy for them to manipulate and edit that kind of shit, and drama was the last thing you wanted.

However, the rest of the week went by without an issue. The gossip magazines had moved on to something else (though there were a few who continued to speculate about your non-relationship with Eddie. You did your deals, and kept yourself busy. And by the time Friday rolled around you were hardly nervous.

Or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“Bell bottom star pants. Absolutely,” Hana says from her place on your bathroom counter, practically in the sink. “With that black leather top you love AND the red leather jacket. Oh! Oh! Oh! And the red boots!”

You put the outfit on, looking in the mirror, “you don’t think it’s too… stereotypical?”

Hana looks at you through the mirror, “no such thing. You look great.”

Hana was one of the few people in your life who’d tell you like it is. You could trust her to tell you if her gut feelings were off, or on. She was your best friend and one of the few people who weren’t just here for the exposure. She’s here to be your cheerleader and you were hers.

“Alright, let's get this going before I change my mind which I am two seconds away from doing.”

…

You should’ve changed your mind.

You can hardly keep from throwing up as you're led by security to a private entrance. To get there you have to pass by their tour buses. All you can hear is loud music and whooping from inside. It’s clear they’re running around in there as the bus is rocking and all you can do is pray they don’t see you.

You’re far too sober for the interaction you’ll be having at this current time.

Unfortunately for you, the universe hates you. Just when you think you’re home free, the door opens, almost smacking you in the face.

“Don’t think you can get away that easy, Asher,” Eddie says as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown wide, clearly from whatever drug he’s consumed. More than likely cocaine and weed. His words aren’t slurred so he isn’t drunk, though he does have a beer bottle in his large hands.

God his hands, there have been many times where you’d imagine them wrapped around your throat, cutting off air as he fucks you like he hates you. You bet he could reach you even as he’s eating you out, he’s so tall and long.

You wish you could say the grin you shoot at him is fake, however with the way he’s looking at you, like he wants to devour and smother you, it's not. You feel like a fucking school girl who has a crush. Your heart pounds so fast in your chest and you swear everyone around you can hear it.

“We weren’t running away,” you say, voice a little breathier than you’d like. “Um this is my best friend-”

“Hana, nice to meet you,” he cuts you off. It’s then that you see his eyes get wide and you know he’s been stalking your profile. Not that you can say anything because you’ve done it… a lot. “I, uh, saw the instagram story you put up earlier.”

Hana smirks, “sure you did, big boy.” She pats his chest and is clearly much braver than you. That’s another thing about you and her, if one of you is feeling not confident, the other makes up for it. Like, on your own, asking for ketchup feels like cutting off a limb, but if she can't do it then it's up to you and vice versa.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, his black t-shirt stretching over his wide shoulder, “want to join us? We have alcohol!”

“We would love that. Wouldn’t we?” Hana looks down at you with her brows raised, still taller than you in heels.

You nod, “yes. Yeah absolutely! Are we allowed to photograph in here?”

You know it’s a stupid thing to ask, but you also don’t want to take a photo of you and Hana and then not be able to post it. And what if you get photos with the rest of the band? Everyone already knows you’re going to be here. Just not… in this tour bus.

Eddie nods, holding out his hand, “you are allowed to do whatever you want, pretty girl. And if anyone has an issue, send them my way, yeah?” He kisses the hand you’ve placed in his before leading you up the stairs of his bus.

It's chaos in there, pure and utter chaos. You turn to look at Hana, silently telling her how insane this is. She nods slightly, but you see the grin on her face. Hana loves this stuff; the parties, the madness, all of it.

Eddie introduces you to the band, pulling you in closer by the waist. “You all need to be on your best behavior. No one touches her. Do you all understand me?” Your heart flutters at how serious he is and it instantly forces his bandmates eyes to fall to your feet. It’s impressive, actually.

Suddenly, a bottle of beer is in your hands, passed to you by Eddie. “Oh… thank you.” You can hardly look at him as a small smile forms on your lips. His attention makes you feel all kinds of funny inside, your stomach doing flips. You know you have to look at him eventually, but he’s just so pretty that it actually hurts.

“Um, so are you excited for your show?” This time you manage to actually drag your eyes to his. He smiles at you, his teeth so beautiful and perfect. It’s when he sits down that you realize that was a stupid question. Of course he’s excited. This is his actual job.

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you through his lashes, you could kiss him. But you don’t for obvious reasons. Reasons you can't really think of at the moment. Not when he’s looking at you like that. The beer bottle hangs in his right hand between his legs.

“Very. Not much comes close to the feeling I get when we’re on that stage.” He shakes his head, curly hair moving with him, “plus, being able to hear people sing my songs back to me is fucking incredible.”

His hand finds yours, pulling you a little closer. Eddie is testing the waters, you know this. Unfortunately for you, your brain can’t see through the cloud of lust. So, you let him pull you closer, sit you on his lap, and wrap an arm around you.

Your brain does catch up, quicker than expected. “It seems like it’d be incredible. I applaud you cause I could never do that. I have stage fright.”

He blinks up at you, “stage fright? Haven’t you done red carpet interviews and stuff?”

You shift a little, shrugging, “well yes. But that’s different.” You can't stop the awkward laugh that comes out of you. It was true, it was different. You weren’t exactly sure why but it was.

Eddie's thumb moves along your side slightly and it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m being honest, the lights are so bright that I can’t see everyone in the crowds. Mainly just the front rows. Makes it easier.”

Eddie puts his beer bottle on the ground by his feet before sitting up and grabbing a joint. He’s quiet as he lights it, puffing out smoke to get it going. “Want some?”

He holds the joint towards you, waiting for your answer. You’ve done this before at the frat houses at college. You’ve done it here and there in high school as well. This is second nature, but this time you’re nervous. What if you forget how to inhale? What if you throw up? Any number of things can happen.

Something happens inside you and your brain finally catches up to itself. A small stroke of confidence happens and without taking your eyes off of him, you lean forward, wrapping your lips around the joint and inhaling. His eyes stay locked on yours, his tongue wetting his lips. You pull back, slowly blowing out the smoke.

“Fuckin’ hell.” It comes out in a whisper and you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His eyes falling from your eyes, to your lips and back again.

God you want to kiss him. His pillowy lips would feel amazing against yours, you just know it. You start to lean into him, desperate to know if you’re right.

A bang on the door scares the fuck out of the both of you and Eddies boot knocks over his bottle. It’s a good thing he drank most of it, the contents not spilling on the plush carpet.

“Let’s get going guys. Put your dicks back in your pants, we have a show to do.” You know that voice, that’s their manager. He’s the one who called your people to make sure you had all the rules for this evening.

Photos are fine.

Everyone must be tagged.

Nothing negative.

Absolutely no photos of any white substances. Even if it’s sugar.

That last one would be hard considering it was on every flat surface in neat, clean lines.

You go to stand up, but Eddie stops you, his hand tightening on your hip. “Promise I’ll see ya after?”

You nod, “y-yeah of course.”

Before you know it, his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft, sweet and you don’t want it to end. In fact, you totally forget about all the other people in the room. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as his tongue begs for permission. And once you grant it, it’s game over.

He tastes like beer and weed and cigarettes and you love it. You want more. You want to get closer.

But it’s not long before the door to his trailer opens up, his manager stepping into the bus. “I said get your dicks and tongues together. We cannot be late.”

…

By the time the show is over you barely have a voice, and you’re sure you’ve never been more turned on in your life. It might seem silly to say, but Eddie's kiss lingered the entire show and all you want is more.

Back stage the band is still running on adrenaline, drinking water for once to try and refuel for the rest of the night. The rest of the night being a club that they frequent. A club you don’t go to because of that exact reason.

“Ohhhhh! There's the prettiest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on!” Eddie's voice booms as security goes to double check you and Hana. “Hey! Leave them alone. They’re with me.”

Security stands back, hands raise like he knows it’ll cause more issues if he doesn’t. You almost feel bad for the poor guy, he was just trying to do his job. Like what if you had a bomb or something?

“C’mon we gotta get outta here.” He laces his fingers with yours before he pulls you along with him. You look over your shoulder, catching Hana's eyes.

Go! She mouths, hanging off Gareth's arm. I’ll meet you there!

And so, you go. Are you nervous? Yes absolutely. Are you going to pretend you aren’t and have some confidence? Yes. Fake it till you make it right?

Eddie opens the door to the car, extending a hand, “ladies first.”

You grin at him as you elegantly slide into the car, “wow. I didn’t know you were such a gentle man.” This time when you giggle, it's cute and self assured.

“Yes, I have been told my entire life that I look,” he slides in sucking in a soft, thinking breath, “mean and scary.”

“You look like a doberman but they’re precious babies.” You mean it too. He looks a little mean and scary, especially in the red lights of the stage. Not to mention the “devil music” (says the media) which can get a little dark. But that’s what makes it great, in your opinion. Plus, he does look like doberman. Like he could probably kill you but would actually not?

“‘Precious babies?’”

You nod, “mhm! I grew up with them. Very sweet and love kisses. Oh! And they each had their own comfort toys.”

“Then maybe I am one because I do love kisses.” He’s closer now, his breath fanning over your face. He still smells like beer and cigarettes mixed in with the smell of his cologne.

It’s your turn to close the gap and planting your lips on his. The kiss is hotter, more intense. One could argue it’s because of the alcohol swimming in your system that makes you so bold. You’re buzzed, but not drunk. It isn’t long before his hands are in your hair, tugging. It makes you moan in his mouth, opening up to him.

He sits back, his hands in your hair pulling you with him, making you sit in his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his hips, your cunt nestled right against the bulge in his pants. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to. You test the waters by rocking your hips, the friction being so sweet that you’re the one who lets out a moan.

“God, that is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.” He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “Should record it and use it in our next song.”

You hum and grin, “I wouldn’t mind that. Always wanted to be in a song. Can’t sing though.”

He nips at your ear, “that’s my job baby.”

Eddie's large hand grips your hips, stopping your movements. You want to whine, you want to protest. You were so fucking close.

“We’ll save that for when we're back at my place.”

You grin and kiss along his jaw, “who says I’m going back to your place?”

“The way you were just grindin’ against my cock, angel.” He grins, “also with how you’re lookin’ at me.”

“And how am I looking at you? Hmm?”

“Like you want me to fuck you while your brain leaks out your cunt.”

You shudder at the crudeness of his words. No one has ever spoken to you like that and looked like him. The car stopping in front of the club saves you from trying to come up with an answer. One you know will either be embarrassing or non-existent.

He looks over at the paparazzi that is waiting and sighs, “are we going in together or…”

The decision you make is quick. If you’re going to do this, even for one night, you’re going to do it together and let them talk. You give him a quick kiss, “together. Give ‘em something to talk about, yeah?”

So, you do.

The second you’re out of the car, cameras flash and photographers call out a mix of your name and his and you can hardly understand what they’re saying. You don’t stop to pose, letting them only photograph you and him walking hand and hand. Give them crumbs as your manager says. Once you’re in the club, not even needing to show an ID or give a name.

From there the night happens in a blur. The band has the VIP section where bottles of expensive liquor are brought over by women dressed in a bikini. You know how much all of this costs (more than you can afford that’s for sure) but you also know that all of this is on Eddie and the bands tab. He’s told you six times.

So you drink. And you smoke. And you watch pretty white lines disappear, most of which disappear up Eddie's nose. Of course you take videos, vlogging your night and making sure to follow all the rules that were set prior to this meeting. Taking photos to remember the night. Hana is having a blast, taking shots like it’s her job and making out with Gareth in between. Of course she takes photos with you, sitting in your lap and giggling so much the photos come out blurry. But those are your favorite kinds of photos.

“Dance with me?” Eddie says in your ear over the music.

You take the shot that is in your hands, “lead the way.”

The second you’re surrounded by sweaty bodies you feel invisible. You’re sure someone has cameras on you and him but at the moment you don’t care.

Your hips move to the music, back against Eddie's chest while his hands explore your body. His lips move against your neck, sucking a dark mark into it that you know you’ll struggle to cover later. Again, you don’t care. What you do care about is the hardness that you feel against your back.

You spin around, grinning up at him. God he’s so fucking tall you have to tilt your head up a good bit to look at him.

“We should get out of here,” you say as he pulls you into him.

He smirks, “thought you weren’t coming back to my place sweetheart.”

“Seems I told a fib. Now, I need you to take me home and fuck me like you hate me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of the club. The car is there and he quickly pulls you into the back seat. Once those doors are closed, the window tint so dark you couldn’t see inside if you tried, his mouth his on yours. Your stomach flips and the neediness you feel coming off of him. He pulls you till you’re straddling him, legs on either side of his hips. Not really the safest but at this point, all you need is his lips on you.

The ride to Eddie’s consists of lots of kissing, so much so that you know your lips are swollen. You don’t get to see much of Eddie’s house, too focused on getting inside the house and into his bedroom. He drags you up the stairs, your hand is his. And once you’re in his room, he has you pressed up against his bedroom door.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Eddie pushes your jacket off your shoulders while he speaks, his words going straight to your clit. Your mind can barely comprehend that Eddie Munson, the man you’ve had a crush on since they were considered an ‘underground band,’ is currently taking off your clothes.

You do the same to him, pushing his leather jacket to the ground before tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. “Me? You are so beautiful.”

He hums, popping the button on your jeans, “should we take a poll on who's prettier? Winner takes the loser on a date?”

That makes you laugh, “sounds like a deal. But first, you need to fuck me.”

His eyes nearly go black at that and before you can think, he’s throwing you on this bed. You land with a small oomph. You decide to take a little initiative, pulling off your boots, scooting off your pants and pulling off your top.

Eddie watches, rapt and almost possessed, his eyes scanning your partially naked body. It’s not anything more than someone would see if you posted in a bathing suit, but you can’t help but feel nervous that he isn’t going to like you.

He quickly puts those fears (fears he knows nothing about) to rest as he settles between your legs. His eyes don’t leave yours as he kisses up your thighs. You know there is a wet patch on your underwear and you know he can see it. You do feel embarrassed about it, but at the same time, Eddie is slightly rutting against the bed so he must like it. Right?

You can feel your body heat as he gets closer and closer to your center.

“Eddie, please don’t tease me.” Never have you begged a man. Typically whoever you were in bed with did the begging, much to your dislike. You were desperate for someone to take charge. Now you know why they didn’t. One bruise and they get shit from all your followers. Even if you tell them to leave these men alone.

But Eddie? He wasn’t afraid.

“But it’s so much fun to watch you squirm.”

You huff, squirming exactly like he said as he sits up to pull your underwear down your legs before setting back between them. “Need you to touch me.”

He licks a stripe up your slit, sucking on your clit as he gets to the top. The sound that falls from your lips is beautiful, sweeter than the sound you made in the car. Now Eddie really wants to put you in a song, but the jealous, primal side of him never wants someone else to be able to hear your moans.

In fact, he doesn’t want to think about any of the other men who’ve heard you make these sounds. Murder wasn't really on his list of things he enjoyed. Bar fights? Yes. Murder? No.

“You make the prettiest sounds, sweetheart. S’very hot.” He slides two fingers inside you with little resistance, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside you. The stretch feels good, your hips moving on their own, riding Eddie's fingers.

You're close, the build up of this moment really getting closer than you originally thought. “Squeezin’ my fingers so tight, baby. Are you close?”

You nod, afraid if you speak you’ll say something ridiculous.

But that isn’t good enough for Eddie. “Words.”

“V-very.”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say because he pulls his fingers from inside you, the emptiness making you gasp, “no! No, no, no I was so close!”

He laughs as he pushes his pants and boxers off his body. “Exactly. Want you to cum with my cock inside you.”

You look down between your bodies and your eyes widen. He was big and you accidentally voice what you’re thinking, “fuck… not gonna fit.”

His laugh drags your eyes back to him, his cock moving through your slick and bumping your clit. “Baby you are so wet that I have no doubt it’ll fit.”

You don’t have time to be embarrassed about it because Eddie is pushing inside you. The size of him stretching you makes you feel like he’s going to split you in half. But you don’t care, the burn just turns you on more and more and before you know it he’s seated inside you fully.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

Eddie is panting, trying to keep still so he doesn’t cum before he wants to. “Feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. A man could become obsessed with this pussy.”

He moves right as you begin to speak, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. He feels like he’s everywhere. “W-witchcraft”

He fucks you harder, his cock hitting your cervix. You’re definitely going to have a bruise there but it's so worth it.

“Didn’t know you were into dark shit. S’my schtick.”

You wrap your legs around him, orgasm building again, “more alike than you originally thought huh?”

He wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, squeezing gently and making your head spin, “oh, angel, I knew how alike we were the second you told everyone how bad you wanted to fuck me.”

“C-can you blame me? Knew you’d fuck me just h-how I like.”

You clench around him making him hiss, “yeah you need someone who will take control huh?”

The hand around your neck slides down your body till he finds your clit, circling it.

“Oh god! Please.”

“I can get used to you prayin’ to me.” His thrusts are losing rhythm (something he’s usually very good at keeping) and you know he’s close. “Cum baby. I need it.”

And it’s all you need to fall over the cliff and into bliss. He follows you, coming inside you while you squeeze around him. You both moan each other's names and you sigh as you come down.

Eddie breaks the silence first, “that was… amazing.”

You hum in agreement as he slides out of you and curls up beside you. You take a moment before getting up and cleaning up in the bathroom. When you come back Eddie has left out an old Corroded Coffin t-shirt and some boxers. And once they’re on, you slide back into his bed, laying your head on his chest.

“We should put that poll up, huh? I’m itching to win this bet.” Eddie laughs as he says it and before you know it, you two are finding a photo the both of you like and posting it on your story with the caption, ‘which one is prettier? Honesty is the best policy.’

“And now… we wait.”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

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katsukiizmoon · 11 months

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╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🥛 ┊boba time ┊ Hana #03 ꒱

『♡』 Katsuki decides he hates phlebotomists, nurses and doctors more than just about anything.

『♡』 needles, emotional katsuki, doctor appointments, baby check ups, having a baby and all that comes with it, fluff, post partum check up, everyone say thank you @majorapandahero for the idea (p.s I apologize if anything is innaccurate)

The baby and you have needed an unreal amount of doctors appointments and tests since birth. He knew, somewhere in the back of his head, that it was needed. But it didn’t hit him just how much there was to it until now.

You scheduled your appointments back to back to save on time. Yours has gone smoothly, as you primarily needed a basic post partum check up. It just ensures that all is well and healing smoothly.

The doctor warned the two of you to avoid sex for another week or two, because, apparently it’s just asking for another baby otherwise. He poured a little at that, missing that part of your intimacy.

Your doctor brings up depression, anxiety, and other symptoms you might be having. The look on your face explaining how truly anxious you’ve been is one she knows well. But she refers you to a therapist and names off a few tools for adjusting to life.

She asks how your urinary incontinence is going, if there’s been much or any progress. Your face heats as you explain that not much has changed but you’re working on it. He bounces the baby in his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He wonders if she knows, as little as she is, that her mommy keeps wetting herself as a result of her birth.

The halls of the hospital and office are cold and sterile. People bustle through the rooms and cool air wraps around the two of you. The intercom beeps and announces that Dr. Brown is needed in room 203.

Katsuki didn’t have warning. He knew the baby needed some tests done but he didn’t know it would be like this.

The doctor said she was coming along fine, measured her little body and worked around here and there, writing things down. But she said the little one still needed a few things taken care of.

And Katsuki hates it. His arms hold his daughter close, lip quivering. And the woman is gentle, wiping the bottom of Hana’s tiny foot with an alcohol prep pad.

You coo from the side, pressing a kiss to the side of his face and tell him she’s fine. But it’s not, it won’t be. Because the woman does something called a “heel stick” and Hana cries.

And it makes him want to cry. His little baby crying in pain, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Because these tests are necessary. The shots are necessary. His darling girl is squirming and screaming in his grip and he can’t do anything but bouncer her and apologize.

One of your hands begins to rub his back in support and tell him she won’t remember it in a few minutes. But his heart squeezes in his chest.

“We only have one more scheduled, she needs her Hepatitis B vaccine. Doc wanted to go ahead and get it out of the way, since she’s a little over a month now.” The woman reassures, rolling backwards in the chair to throw a few things in a biohazard disposer.

And oh, it’s just about the worse thing he can imagine. Because they have to put her on the stupid, hard table and he can’t hold her the whole time.

His eyes prick with tears watching Hana writhe as the nurse gets ready for the injection. She still hasn’t stopped crying. Fat, ugly tears roll down her face as she hic’s and wails.

“Baby, don’t watch if you can’t.. it’s okay.” You soothe, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

It’s over quick and he all but swoops his little girl off the blasphemous table and into his arms. He peppers little kisses all over her face and apologies over and over. He bounces her, kissing her boo boos and she starts to sniffle as he soothes her.

And the phlebotomist snorts a little, chuckles even. She finishes everything up and goes over a few things out loud. Her gloves come off with a snap and she’s cooing at the sight. She glances down at the paperwork and chart next to her, then back up.

“For a big, scary pro, he sure is a softie sometimes huh?” She murmurs, brow lifted as she watches the scene in front of her.

You snort and he turns up his nose, glaring at her.

“I hate these damn places and the shitheads in them.” The blonde grumbles, pressing a kiss to the baby’s cheek and turning away slightly.

She sniffles lightly still, curling further into him.

You smack at his arm and demand he apologize to the poor woman in front of you but she cackles. The doctor allows you three to leave and he spends the entire car ride ranting about how much he hated that.

His face scrunches when you tell him there’s another appointment, only a month later.

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blue-jisungs · 11 months

Text

baby fever

a/n. listen. listen. i don’t like babies. but–

warnings. damn once or twice, slightly suggestive but not really lol

you love jungkook. and you love every little and big aspect of dating him. he’s just so in love with you, even your grandma says she feels a little jealous. your friends say that you fell first but he fell harder and it shows.

not only through the little gestures like leaving sticky notes all over the place with i love yous and don’t forget to text me when he’s going to be out for the next days. or when he held your hair gently once you got a food poisoning and spent all your night vomiting in the bathroom.

but also – which comes with dating an idol, you guess – the big things. one day jungkook asked you about your dream place to visit and the other, on your anniversary, there you were with him by your side. or he just spoils you in general.

you could never complain. you love him. you really do.

but there’s something you can’t do and you really miss it sometimes.

simple dates.

cafes, cinemas or ice skating. sure, if you wanted to jungkook would have rented the whole cinema for you just to watch a movie.

but you don’t want to. when you recall your dating life before jk, even though it was unsuccessful it was fun. and nowadays you barely meet with others anymore (if we don’t count co-workers)

and with jungkook, being the worldwide star he is, you can’t normally go out.

(not only because that you might have get hurt if the fans realise but above all you don’t want to risk his career…)

that’s why when your friend offered you to come by for a coffee, you agreed. you cling onto every kind of unusual activity you can get, so your friend giggled at your enthusiasm.

you baked a cake by yourself (well, with small help from jungkook) and cleaned the whole place.

your friend arrived with her baby.

you were surprised to say at least but hey, you like kids so you didn’t protest.

“so? tell me how are you? it feels like ages since we’ve seen each other” your friend, hana, asked placing her three year old daughter – jimin – on her lap.

“i’m good! nothing new, honestly. i can see this pretty baby grew up, huh?” you giggled and henry pinched jimin’s squishy cheek “god, she’s so cute i wanna cry”

her big brown eyes glared at you in awe and hana laughed.

“but what’s up with you and jungkook?” she asked, wiggling her brows

“what do you mean? we’re good” you scoffed and jimin squeaked

“oh, y/n. i mean marriage! come on, you must have thought about it! you’ve been dating for what? five years…?” hana sighed and her gaze shifted. you shook your head, reaching for a cup of coffee “you wanna hold her?”

“of course!” you grinned, patting you lap. bam, who usually jumps on jungkook when he does that gesture, run up to you. jimin let out a high pitched giggle.

hana put her on your lap carefully and the baby immediately held onto your arm. bam came closer and sniffed her.

“look, doggy! here, you can pet him” you talked to jimin in baby voice, grabbing her small chubby hand and gently petting bam with it. hana tapped your arm to let you know that she’s going to the bathroom and when you looked up to nod, you saw jungkook in the doorway.

“hi kookie” you smiled sweetly, looking down because jimin started babbling

“what’s… what’s going on?” jungkook asked, coming up to you.

“well hana came over for a coffee with her daughter. isn’t she the cutest?” you asked, pouting.

the truth was he was standing there for a while. the moment he saw you with a baby on your lap his heart rate sped up. he didn’t know why but there was just… this motherly aura around you.

“…kook?”

he snapped back, not even realising that he wasn’t focused. you were smiling so endearingly at him, the baby giggling cutely and bam licking her hand…

“huh?” he blinked. you broke into a chuckle and pulled him closer by his shirt

“i think i’m in love”

“well of course–” he grinned

“with her, dumbass” you laughed “can we kidnap her?”

jimin made grabby hands at bam.

“honey, i’m sure hana wouldn’t like this” your boyfriend hummed and patted the girl’s head. then he got an idea

“well she doesn’t has to know” you murmured, booping her nose “right? right jimin? ah, i can’t…”

jungkook grabbed one of took toys and handed it to jimin. she grabbed it hesitantly, unsure what to do with it.

“oh my god, you all look so cute. hi jungkook, by the way” hana’s voice rung out in the room, causing all of you to turn around to look at her.

“hi, what’s up?” your boyfriend grinned and suddenly there was a thud of a dog toy hitting the ground. bam ran after it, his tail moving like crazy which caused jimin to burst out laughing.

“babies, am i right?” jk breathed out when she made grabby hands at him. hana encouraged him to take her. jungkook started swooshing her around carefully, the sound of her giggles filling the room.

“you should have a baby” hana said suddenly and you spit out the coffee you managed to get a sip of.

jungkook was waiting for you in bed, turning around nervously. you left the bathroom, switching off the lights.

“i’m so happy hana dropped by today” you grinned, plopping down next to him. he pulled you down, wrapping his arms around you “you looked really cute while babying her, you know?”

he remained silent, his brows furrowing.

“what?” you giggled, cupping his cheeks.

“you too. with jimin and bam running around… i heard what she said” jungkook sighed, looking at you “about the marriage…”

“oh okay… kookie, don’t worry about it. some people get married after ten years of dating” you cooed, leaning away only to bury your head in the crook of his neck

“i know but… i think i have a baby fever. the moment i saw jimin i couldn’t stop thinking about how it would be… having a baby y/n running around”

you grinned, his hand suddenly finding yours.

“me too, honestly. but i think i would want a boy. girls have it tough” you mumbled, squeezing his hand

“no way. i want a girl. she’ll be my little princess” jungkook giggled, brushing some hair out of the frame of your face

“a boy would be better, i’m telling you. if he looked like your copy, i’d melt” you whispered.

“well i think there’s one way to find out who would be better–“ jungkook started and you playfully punched his arm

“damn, ask me out first” you giggled, turning around to place a quick peck on his jaw.

“just you wait a little more, y/n, we’ll have an army soon…” he joked but you couldn’t help but punch him again

“i see the pun but don’t be too confident, jeon” you grinned, closing your eyes.

maybe it was a sign that later that night you were dreaming about mini version of jungkook playing with bam…?

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @kazmura

#bts fluff #bts x reader #jeon jungguk #bts imagines #jungkook fluff #jungkook #bts jung jungkook #bts jungkook #jk fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts soft hours #bts scenarios #bts drabble

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husbandhoshi · 3 months

Text

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

#literally on my hands and knees begging for the tags to work #mine #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu angst #seventeen angst #mingyu imagines

327 notes · View notes

ranhaitanisgf · 4 months

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hi hana! congrats on 2k followers once again and if it’s not too much of a bother, i’d like to have a mikey fluff/crack “oblivious best friends” & “stuck together” scenario/hc (whichever works for you) where it was after school hours and everyone in toman is looking for mikey ☺️ i really hope this combination is something new skjdjsjss thank you in advance!! 💕

—manjiro [mikey] sano // oblivious best friends // stuck together

☆ ˎˊ˗ KATIEEE hiiii im sryyy i took sooooo long for this my disappearance from tumblr messed things up 😔 idk how i did on this tbh !! i hope youve been doing well !! and also ur idea was so cutee wahh i hope i did it justice !! xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ gn!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 1.5k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

“...mikey.”

“yeah?”

“how long are we gonna stay here?” the boy in front of you hummed, thinking for a moment as he swirled the lollipop in his mouth.

“until they find us.” you sighed at him, leaning your head back against the wall. you could hear rapid footsteps in the hallway, people running around yelling mikey’s name, unaware of the fact that he was sitting in the classroom they just passed by.

he hadn’t given you much explanation when he grabbed you and pulled you into the classroom, though you think you have a basic idea of what was going on; all you could say was, it was very mikey.

“so, what exactly is the point in hiding from everyone?”

“it’s funny!” he grinned, crunching down on his lollipop. “but also ‘cause the doors in this classroom are broken; they only open from the outside, so i’ve been waiting for someone to come by and open them from the outside.”

“huh?! why’d you drag me in here then? wait, how did you even do that?”

“i dunno, but i just saw you and it was boring here by myself.” he shrugged, not seeming to think it was a big deal. “aaand you’ve skipped out on the last couple of meetings, so i missed you.” he pouted, a childish look on his face. “where were you?!”

“mikey, i told you weeks ago that i would be busy studying for exams…don’t you remember?” you sighed. “i even texted you before all the meetings that i wouldn’t be coming!”

“whatever.” mikey said flippantly, the same pout still on his face. “you owe me snacks for not showing up.”

“okay, okay, just stop making that face.” you said, pulling at mikey’s cheeks. “you’re making me look like a bad person.”

“oi, stahppp, it hurtsss!” he grumbled. you eventually relented, sighing as you looked around the classroom.

“even being here with someone else is boring. can’t we just leave and go get food?”

“but i’m testing them! they have to know how to find their leader!” mikey insisted, crossing his arms.

“but you’re literally hiding from them on purpose. how are they supposed to find you?”

“they can figure that out themselves!”

“right…” you answered, giving up on trying to make him see reason. you really were hungry; you hadn’t eaten since you had that milk bread from lunch, which wasn’t a whole lot of food. “if you’re insisting on keeping us here, then you’re gonna pay for my meal after this.”

“ken-chin will pay for it, but okay!”

“no, you’re going to pay for it. i don’t care if you’re broke; you deserve to have no money for keeping me here.”

“hey, that’s so mean!”

“yeah, and you’re being mean right now by not letting us go so i can eat. i ought to just-” you stood up from where the two of you were sitting to avoid being seen, “-let them see me and then tell them where you are!” mikey’s eyes widened, motioning for you to sit back down, but you stood firm, not moving from your spot.

“oi, sit down! they have to find me on their own!”

“no! this is ridiculous! i’m hungry and i shouldn’t have to be kept at school any longer-agh!” while you were talking, mikey grabbed your hand, pulling you down with a surprising amount of strength, making you lose your balance and topple over.

“urgh, what the hell-...” you suddenly cut off your words when you realized the position you were in.

because mikey had been sitting right next to your standing form, you had fallen right on top of him, the space between your faces being very small as the two of you stared at each other. the space between your bodies was even less, and you swore that he could feel your quickening heartbeat from how close the two of you were, (you didn’t even want to think about how you could feel the warmth from his body right now).

you knew that you should probably be clambering off of him right now and bonking him on the head for pulling you down so hard, but for some reason, your body was frozen, not knowing what to do. on the one hand, you knew you probably shouldn’t be staying here for so long, but on the other hand, you wanted him to do or say something, anything, to make you think that he wasn’t just an oblivious teenage boy, (how could he have not noticed your feelings this whole time?!)

“(y/n)...” he whispered, his breath fanning against your cheeks due to your close proximity.

“y-yeah?”

“can you get off? you’re kinda heavy.” at his words, you immediately scrambled off of him, your heart beating a million beats per minute, this time due to embarrassment. as soon as he got up, you slapped the back of his head, making him yell a loud ‘ow!’.

“that’s what you get for pulling me so hard, asshole! i don’t get why you’re so adamant about staying here!” you yelled, feeling more shame and embarrassment than anger. you leaned your head back against the wall, wondering why you thought that anything would be different this time.

it’s not normal for best friends to have feelings for each other, so why were you mad at him?

this time, you felt the silence between the two of you to be unbearable, almost enough to make you scream with frustration. you didn’t though, instead choosing to just have your own internal monologue until you could make it out of the classroom.

“(y/n)-chan? what’s wrong?”

“nothing, i’m just tired as fuck. wake me up when we get found or whatever.” you murmured, laying down on the floor, not caring about the dust and first getting on your uniform. maybe if you laid down like this, the earth would swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment.

you weren’t sure how much time passed like that, though you were sure that the silence filled the room for quite a while, only being interrupted by draken and takemichi’s yells in the hallway. suddenly, you heard some shuffling, wondering if maybe mikey was going to give up and let the two of you finally be found.

you’d already gone too long pretending to be asleep, so even though you wanted to see what mikey was doing, you didn’t make a peep even when you could feel him getting closer to you.

what is he doing?

your question was answered just a moment later when you felt his hand on your cheek, brushing some of your hair out of your face, (you were hoping that your cheeks weren’t getting flushed right about now).

“hm, i was able to hold back this time, but you really test me sometimes, (y/n).” after that, you felt his hand pull away, leaving you in much more confusion than before. what in the world was he talking about?

a few minutes later, you heard him opening the window to the classroom, yelling for draken. when he arrived, he started chewing mikey out for disappearing for so long, which was when you decided to ‘wake up’.

“hmm, you finally decided to give up that little stunt, mikey?” you asked, standing up and rubbing your eyes to make it seem like you were actually sleeping. “took you long enough.”

“it got more boring sitting there since you fell asleep.” mikey answered, shrugging his shoulders. he kept the same lighthearted expression on his face as he started to get another earful from draken.

“you did this on purpose?! we’ve got stuff to do!!” he yelled, his face twisted in frustration. “it’s been a whole goddamn hour!!”

“sorry, sorry.”

you walked away from the two over to the door, trying to open it just to see. much to your surprise, it opened up, not showing any sign of the locked issue that mikey had claimed it’d had earlier.

when you looked over at him, all he did was shrug, a smug smirk on his face.

“you little shit! it was open this whole time?! i’m gonna actually kill you this time!!” you yelled, running at mikey. he swiftly dodged you and went out the door behind you, running into the hallway to get away from you.

“catch me if you can!!” you heard him tease in the distance, fueling your anger even more.

“when i catch you, it’s so over for you!!” you shouted, sprinting out of the classroom after him.

as you chased him, he looked back at you, laughing and saying something that you couldn’t catch. despite the fact that you were acting so mad at him right now, you couldn’t help but admire how the light from the sunset reflected off of his skin, highlighting his playful smile and blonde locks bouncing in the air.

you supposed that this was fine, for now.

(mikey ended up paying for your entire meal out of his own pocket, leaving him with 200 yen to his name).

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miinatozakiii · 5 days

Text

i fall in love too fast

kindergarden teacher!sana x fem!reader (remastered) ; part two; fluff

summary: your niece needs to stop watching so many romance movies because what the hell she's five and sana... well sana thinks she's crushing on someone's mother.

wc: 3.9k

warnings: mentions of food ; not proofreaddd

a few customers held you up, you were supposed to be in your car earlier, supposed to be at hana’s school early – but of course, someone had to order six drinks during a rush, keeping you at work for a few more minutes than you’d like.

once you make it to the car, you rush to startthe engine and get out your parking spot. tapping your finger on the steering wheel as you drive, you glance at the car's screen. the time reads '3:11 pm,' which means hana will be out in about four minutes. you make a guess that you'll arrive in a few minutes late. the worry that hana might be confused about where you are runs through your mind, but you convince yourself not to fret. after all, she's strong, and you know it – she’s your niece after all.

somehow you manage to make it to the entrance just before hana is supposed to be out. fiddling with the collar of your white button-up shirt that you still have on from work, you anxiously await for when the bell will ring, anticipating the kids to start spilling out of the entrance doors to reunite with their families – eagerly waiting to see hana again.

you check your watch, reading the 3:15 pm, and seconds later – the bell rings.

it was only a minute later that you started to see groups of kids being led out by various teachers. you scanned the area for a bit, thankful that your height allowed you to see over some of the parents' heads. finally, you spot your little niece standing with a group of kids, holding each other by the little hook-like fabric on top of their bags to stay connected.

amidst the sea of parents and children, your eyes also locked onto sana, effortlessly standing out even in the crowd of chaos. her gentle hand held that of a child at the front of the group, a caring smile gracing her features.

you made your way over to where hana stood, her eager eyes scanning the crowd until they finally landed on you. without hesitation, she dashed towards you, her arms outstretched in anticipation of the hug she knew was coming. for a five-year-old, her determination was astonishing, and the way she almost knocked you off balance was comparable to a linebacker (well, close enough. maybe a linebacker on the youth team). as she crashed into you with surprising force, you couldn't help but marvel at her energy, laughing, and wonder if she should consider joining a football team someday. yeah, definitely her dad’s genes.

"y/n!" her grin widened as she approached, and you quickly knelt down to her level, wrapping her in a warm hug. "i missed you, y/n!"

“hey, hi,” you feel her squeezing you tighter as you hug her, kissing the side of her head as you do. “i missed you too!” you greet happily, voice muffled a bit. pulling away, you brush some of her hair out of her face, hair looking a little more ruffled than this morning. “seem’s like someone had a fun day at school.”

“so much fun! today ms. minatozaki let us paint and! and! she gave me more stickers for being good! they're sharks too!” the little girl beams, making you smile. “and then we had recess and i played a lot and ran a lot and– oh! ms. minatozaki said i was good today!”

you laugh. “is that so?”

“yes! does this mean we can go to the cafe? please? i was good i promise.” hana pleads, tugging at your rolled sleeve.

huming as you think to yourself, you her teacher in the corner of your eye. “hmm, we’ll have to ask ms. minatozaki to make sure, won’t we?” you’re really just saying that as an excuse to talk to your niece's teacher again.

you steal a glance at sana, who is smiling and waving to a set of parents, the dad carrying their child on his shoulders. her eyes sparkle with surprise and delight as they meet yours, her cheeks gradually tinting a shade of pink. unaware of her reaction, you remain lost in admiration as you stare.

sana bids a final goodbye to the parents and the kid before you and your niece make your way over to her.

"hana, hello there, sweetie," sana greets your niece warmly. then, her gaze shifts to you, her smile widening even further. "it's wonderful to see you again, y/n," she adds, her words sending a warm flutter through your chest, your heart skipping a beat.

she still looks as beautiful as she did in the morning, maybe even prettier. that voice of hers is still soft and sweet when she greets you with joy; her face lights up the same way.

"it's wonderful to see you too,"

without thinking, you straighten your shirt and adjust your pleated pants to appear more presentable. a smile graces both your lips and sana's. a brief silence ensues as you lock eyes with each other, and you feel a warmth rising in your ears, gradually spreading to your cheeks like a small fire.

trying to clear the tension, you clear your throat and tug at your collar, then respond, “how was hana today?”

hana looks up at her teacher with hopeful, puppy eyes, silently pleading for a positive response. sana chuckles softly to herself, amused by hana's adorable expression.

“she was great today, and really helpful too,” sana assures, earning a sigh of relief from hana.

“is that so?” you question – sana hums in response.

“she helped me put the paintbrushes back, as well as the markers. she’s a sweet girl, big help.” sana explains.

hana tugs at your hand, “i told you! i told you i was good! so can we go to the cafe? please?”

chuckling again, you nod at the little girl, then bring your gaze back to the woman in front of you.

“i guess we should get going then…” you begin, your gaze tearing away from sana reluctantly to look back down at the girl beside you. “why don’t you say bye to your teacher, hana?”

hana nods and you watch as sana crouches down to meet the girl's level, placing a hand on her head before sliding it down to the girls cheek. hana puts her smaller hand on sana’s before she hugs her, and for a moment you think to yourself: gosh, i wish that were me.

sana parts from hana, standing back up and fixing loose hair that falls over her face. you steal another glance at the young teacher before hana goes back to you to hold your hand and tug you away.

the last look you and sana share has this weird sense of longing, there’s an unspoken desire to get to know each other more, to maybe get a few extra minutes to, well, maybe just stare at each other’s faces until someone decides to say something.

but then, letting go, you finally wave to her with a smile, and she shoots you and your niece a toothy grin “goodbye.”

"alright, time to head home," you announce, grabbing hana's tiny school bag and placing it in the front seat. after securing her in the car seat, you close the door and settle into the driver's seat.

with a turn of the key, the engine roars to life, but before you can even back up, hana beams, “buckle up!”

“of course, i wouldn’t forget the most important step.”

a jazz favorite from months ago begins to play after you hit shuffle on one of the playlists you made with your niece. adjusting the volume to create a soft background melody, you listen along as hana starts to hum along.

you pull into your regular spot by the side of the cafe and turn off the engine. grabbing hana's bag from the passenger seat, you step out of the car and hold the door to the backseats open for her to hop out. her eyes light up at the sight of the cafe's exterior, and she wastes no time in darting towards the entrance.

“hana wait! be careful!” you call out, hurriedly shutting the door and fumbling with the keys to lock your car before running after the excited five-year-old.

entering the cafe, you're greeted by the familiar and inviting atmosphere. the air carries the aroma of freshly baked pastries mingled with the rich scent of espresso shots being pulled. the cozy ambiance of the cafe envelops you both, lifting both your spirits.

thankfully, it’s not too busy at the moment. you spot a few adults in their work clothing sitting and chatting at the table for four near the window, sipping on their drinks – looks like a couple of lattes and americanos. the dim corner to the right is lit up by a small lamp hanging from above, occupied by a few high school students laughing. they seem to be treating themselves to a small cake, a little candle is at the side – probably for someone's birthday.

you scan the area, shifting your look over to where the familiar baker and barista are. the baker notices you and stops what she’s doing to wave happily.

“ah, y/n! you’re back, did you miss me that much?” dahyun jokes, “oh, and you brought my favorite customer too.” she adds, redirecting her gaze to meet hana. hana gives the dark-haired woman a big, gummy, and toothy smile before going to hug the woman as she walks out from behind the counter.

“ms. dahyun! today was my first day of school! my teacher says i was great!” hana boasts, and dahyun laughs before ruffling her hair up a bit.

“wow, i’m impressed. hmm… maybe i should give you the special treat i prepared then.”

“please please please please please please-”

“alright, alright. a special treat for my favorite customer coming up! my favorite new student.” dahyun says cheerfully. the shorter woman heads behind the counter, and you lift hana onto the chair near the counter.

you make your way behind the counter as well, right over to where the taller barista works. he’s busy measuring the coffee grinds for an espresso shot, furrowing his brows as he takes a small portion of the ground coffee out from the portafilter.

“chaemin,”

he jumps a little and you laugh teasingly.

“my god! don’t do that!”

“oops.” you shrug. “can i steam some milk real quick? i need to make something for my niece.”

“you’re giving espresso to a five-year-old?” chaemin asks, visibly concerned. he turns his body to you fully, raises his brows, and looks down at you in disbelief.

“of course not, she’s already a handful without the caffeine. i’m just gonna make her a hot chocolate.”

“i see, okay. good.” he says before bringing his attention back to the portafilter and tamping the coffee grinds. “by the way, where’s johnny? i thought he would be the one taking hana to school – or picking her up – you know, since he's her dad and all.”

“he wanted to, but he had this last-minute business trip. the way he complained in person and over the phone was… rough – but he’ll be back in two days.”

“i see.”

you and chaemin continue to engage in some small talk about whether it was busy or anything while you were gone for those few minutes while you make the hot chocolate.

dahyun has already given the giddy five-year-old her cream-filled croissant with a variety of fruits inside, along with a drizzle of milk chocolate syrup on top.

dahyun pushes the plate toward the girl. “i made it just for you, i even added extra strawberries and chocolate since you like them so much.”

“ms. dahyun you’re the best! it looks really yummy! thank you thank you thank you!” she says excitedly, then dahyun pats her shoulder.

“anything for the young scholar.”

“you never make me anything like that.” you mumble as you make a design with the steamed milk and chocolate.

“you’re not a scholar, y/n. you lack a lot up there actually.” she jokes, poking you right in the forehead.

“ouch.” you respond, looking at her with a pout and setting down the hot chocolate with the heart design you made with the steamed milk. hana smiles, looking at the drink and pastry eagerly, but just as she is about to dig in–

“phone eats first.” you halt her actions, forcing her to pose and smile for the family group chat. she groans in response before dahyun encourages her to grin for the camera, giving her a thumbs up.

you sit beside hana and watch her eat while you hold your head in your palm, smiling at her. dahyun goes back to rolling whatever dough she was working on before, and you scroll through the family group chat, texting your brother and mom.

“these are so good, thank you aunt y/n,” hana says with a mouth full of the croissant.

“you should thank dahyun for that, but i’m glad you like them. also, don’t talk while you have so much food in your mouth!” you scold playfully before taking a sip of the iced americano chaemin had made you. hana sticks her tongue out at you and you pinch her nose lightly, making the two of you laugh.

hana gulps down the bite she had just chewed up, then mumbles, “aunt y/n, can i ask you something?”

you raise a brow. “what is it?”

“do you… do you like my teacher?”

“oh, of course. she’s sweet and takes good care of you, i’m fond of her. she seems great.” you answer before taking another sip of your coffee.

“no, do you like like her? like in the movies? the lovey dovey ones where they kiss–”

“w-what? why- where did this come from?” you question, sitting straight up. hana’s directness nearly makes you choke on your coffee. chaemin overhears the conversation and his eyes land on the two of you.

“you like your niece's teacher?” he says in disbelief, a hand on his hip and a brow raised. you look at your co-worker and then back to your niece, waving your hand to shut down these bold (but pretty reasonable) allegations.

“no, no – it’s not like that,” you start, trying to keep your voice and tone relaxed. chaemin and the little girl don’t seem to be fooled. “she’s just nice, we’re just friendly. she’s your teacher, of course i’m going to be friendly with her.”

“ok, then why did you look at her like that? you looked all lovey-dovey and your ears turned red!”

“oh? what is this i’m hearing?” dahyun interjects, which earns her a glare from you before you look back at your niece.

“i- no, it’s not like that! we just met hana, don’t be ridiculous.” you say defensively, and then hana’s smile grows, it makes you uneasy.

“your ears are turning red again, just like in those cartoons and movies!”

“what movies are you watching? you’re like, five! shouldn’t you be watching some normal cartoons? like something with mermaids or superheroes or something?” you groan, growing more defensive as dahyun and chaemin team up with hana to poke at you.

you roll your eyes at them, but the thought of sana tugs at your heartstrings.

you don't buy into the idea of love at first sight; it seems too simplistic, too much like something out of a disney movie. however, you can't deny the impact the woman who will be teaching your daughter every day has had on you. she’s shot an arrow through your heart just like cupid.

she’s undeniably beautiful, but it's more than just that. you find yourself thinking about her infectious smile, her contagious smile, and the way her nose scrunches up when she does both. the memory of her holding your hand when you greeted her lingers in your mind, even as you're teased and poked fun at by those around you. god, you’ve just met her.

you won’t admit it outloud, but this woman did have an effect on you, and you were scared that it would be harder to hide that the more you saw her.

“look, i just think she’s a nice person okay,” you shrug, and then you begin (or at least try) to change the topic. “anyways… how was your first day of school? what else did you do?”

dahyun laughs at your attempt to change the subject and decides to give you a break by returning to what she was doing. she shoots chaemin a cheeky look, which you ignore, choosing instead to focus all your attention on hana.

“it was great! you were right y/n, i made a friend! her name is jiyeong, she’s taller than me by this much,” hana shows you the height difference by pinching her fingers down, except there’s an inch of space in between. “also,” hana begins, “ms. minatozaki read us a story, she’s super nice. she smiled and laughed a lot, she smiles like a princess. she kind of looks like one." hana adds, and you certainly agree with that statement. hana thinks to herself a bit, then adds her final remark, "she also helped everyone with their paintings, she’s so cool! i like her a lot.”

you grin at the girl and take her empty plate, pushing it to the other side of the counter for chaemin to take.

“i’m really glad you made a friend, i told you my genes were passed on to you!” you mess with her hair. “and i’m glad you like ms. minatozaki, it’s important that you have nice and caring teachers.”

“and pretty teachers too, right?” she teases, and you laugh, messing with her hair once more.

“alright smarty pants, finish up your hot chocolate so we can get going.” you sigh, rolling your eyes playfully before walking behind the counter to wash hana’s dish.

“how was work?” jihyo asks.

she backs her car out of the parking spot in front of the school. sana has never been one to drive herself, always relying on the bus or getting a ride from a friend. however, this year she's in luck, since she'll likely be getting regular rides home from both her best friend and the mother of one of her students – one of the best drivers of the century.

sana sighs and smiles, then sets her head down against the headrest of the passenger seat. “it was really good, the students are all great. your daughter did well too.”

jihyo smiles upon hearing this. “i’m glad jiyeong was good,” then she looks at her daughter through the mirror. “jiyeong, sweetheart, how was school?”

“good mom! i had lots of fun and ms. minatozaki is really nice! i made a new friend too.” the little girl in the backseat responds. “her name is hana, she’s cool and nice and funny and i like her a lot. we promised to be best friends this year!”

sana tenses up at the mention of hana, and she thinks of the girl’s captivating mother–you. sana starts to zone out whilst jihyo talks with her daughter, and she really just thinks about you. she replays the memory of shaking your hand–big, soft, nice to hold, the small peak of ink under your wrist, the bracelets, and wow she is a mess from just the interaction–and about your cheery grin, as well as your caring nature. the look you had given her this morning replays in her head, the small dimple you had, how perfect your teeth were, and the sparkle of your eyes as you looked at sana.

she daydreams of you the whole way back to her place, pushing aside the fact that you’re a mother, probably not single considering how charming and cute you are.

her heart sinks a little at the thought of that, and she tells herself to compose herself, there are always others, right? other fish in the sea?

(but none that were as cute as you.)

"alright, we're here. say bye to your teacher jiyeong." jihyo insists, adjusting the gear stick so the car is parked in front of the apartment complex. sana smiles at jihyo and steps out of the car, closing the door behind her. she waves at jihyo and her daughter through the window.

“thank you ms. minatozaki! see you tomorrow!”

“bye jiyeong, i hope you have a good night. you too, jihyo, thank you again.”

“it’s no problem, your place is on the way to our house anyway, have a good night sha.”

jihyo waves once more before rolling the passenger seat window up and driving away. sana clutches her work back and starts to walk towards her apartment.

the young teacher unlocks the apartment door and sets her bag on the hook to the right of the door. with a sigh, she kicks off her shoes, feeling the weight of the day starting to lift. as she moves into the kitchen, she finds herself drawn to the familiar routine of making a cup of tea. it's a comforting ritual, one that helps her unwind and transition from the demands of her day to the peace of her home. kids are amazing, wonderful, and adorable–but they’re also draining, very draining.

she leans against the counter in her work clothes, staring at the cup in her hand.

the thought of you reaches back, invading her mind, her.

you’re cute, you’re effortlessly cute with everything you do. sana thinks of the first glance, remembering how bells started to ring and imaginary petals started to fall after she made eye contact and– god she needs to stop watching those stupid dramas jihyo keeps reccomending her because they’re starting to turn her into some hopeless romantic. this can’t be, it’s only been one day, hell, not even an hour of being in the same room of you.

sana feels her cheeks warming up, cursing herself mentally.

you’re a mother, whether that be biologically or not, you’re a mother. it would (most likely–well, very_ unprofessional to pursue someones mother, especially if you have a husband or anything like that. she can’t pine over someone who’s taken, not again, she’s learned from her junior in high school already, she can’t possibly live through that again.

sana sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “i really have to talk to jihyo about this.”

taking out her phone, she finds jihyo’s contact and pauses, letting out another small sigh. the thought of having to navigate through the year while constantly encountering your pretty face and charming personality fills her with a mix of apprehension and anticipation. there's a part of her that can't help but look forward to the interactions and moments shared even if you’re taken.

(it’s not like she can’t control how she feels, so if she’s able to at least hide it–then that should be fine.

–

right?)

she clicks on the little phone icon, and after a few rings, it's answered by jihyo. the sound of her voice comes through the line, accompanied by the faint background noise of what seems like the opening of a door.

"sana? hello? what is it? everything okay?”

"jihyo."

jihyo blinks, letting her daughter into the house before answering in a slightly concerned tone, "yes?"

“on a scale of one 1-10–and be honest–how wrong is it to have a crush on your students' mother?”

#sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #sana twice #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reader

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bakubunny · 1 month

Text

thinkin abt coming home sleepy to shota and needing him so much that you cry when he insists you wait. it’s been too long since you’ve fucked, but not because either of you doesn’t want to. life has been so busy that you’ve hardly had time to take care of yourself, let alone have sex.

“i’ll do all the work,” he said. “just say the word.”

shota laid on top of you in bed, snuggled into your shoulder. you groaned, a wordless complaint as you clung to him, arms and legs wrapped around his body.

“i need you. and i’m exhausted,” you said.

“again, i hear what you’re saying. but you come first, even if it means sex has to wait,” he replied softly. “tell me what you want.”

maybe it was the lack of sleep or a feeling of loneliness, but your bottom lip pushed out and your eyes stung when shota’s hips rolled into yours once, twice. the heat and weight of his hard length, the comfort of his embrace made you whine.

“i’m too tired. i’m sorry.” tears spilled down your cheeks.

“aww, baby… it’s okay,” he soothed.

“i miss you so much it hurts, sho. i don’t want to wait another day or a week or whatever,” you replied.

he held your face and hushed you with deep, gentle kisses. “shh… i know. you can have me whenever you want, but right now, i think rest is more important.”

“but-”

“no. you need to rest,” shota said as he wiped your tears. “let’s have dinner. then we can cuddle while you fall asleep, hm?”

he hated saying it as much as you hated hearing it. nothing came close to being inside your perfect pussy, so wet and tight, especially when he found just the right spots that made you crazy. shota ached to hear your sweet mewls and moans, feel you pulling him close, begging him to hold you tighter with every thrust. he missed the way you needed him, and no amount of fucking his fist or a sleeve would replace that.

you hugged him tightly. “fine. if i don’t feel so tired later, can we please?”

you knew it was a lost cause. you’d be out like a light before anything could happen, but asked anyways.

shota smiled softly. “of course, babygirl. i’m gonna fill you up so good the first chance i get and show you that you’re mine.” he watched a smile bloom on your cheeks, the one he’d been waiting for, and gave you a kiss.

gremlins: @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @bookcluberror @zazter-den @neon-gothicc @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @yazt09 @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @223princess @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @levizonlywife @kxtsxkii @katsuslover @yooxverse @nuttyunknowndetective @jjamiee21 @levis-fav-brat

#he’s such a stickler for you taking care of yourself #he doesn’t care how long he has to wait 😔#bnha #mha #x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #aizawa x reader #f!reader #bakubunny

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breadbrioche · 8 months

Text

estimated time of arrival

so mun x reader

➳summary: mun is excited to see you after being apart for so long

➳warnings: takes place early season 2, accidental confessions

➳word count: 731

➳a/n: some fluff before whatever happens in this weekend’s episode

“Who’s Y/N?” Jeokbong asked, standing idly in the middle of the shop floor of Unnie’s Noodles while the other counters were rushing around him, carrying various supplies and decorations.

“Another counter on our team.” Motak explains while setting out the table. “They went overseas to help out with dealing with the evil spirits.”

“And they’re finally coming back today!” Mun added happily while entering from the kitchen, bringing in a ladder to hang up banners.

“How are they like? You seem really excited, Mun.” Jeokbong asked, noticing how bright he got at your mention.

“That’s only because he’s had a crush on Y/N since-“ Hana began with a smirk before she was cut off by a stuttering, red faced Mun who urgently pressed a hand on her mouth to silence her.

In his embarrassed state, the boy must have forgotten all about Hana’s aversion to touch as he was instantly thrown to the ground with a loud thud, making him groan painfully.

“Good god Hana! Is this really the time for that?” Ms Chu exclaimed while helping Mun to his feet. Hana rolled her eyes at Ms Chu babying Mun before continuing her previous task.

“Can someone call Y/N and see where they are now? I still haven't gotten started on making the noodles!” Ms Chu fussed. Mun immediately offered himself to do it and excused himself from the room to go to the downstairs gym speedily, ignoring all the snickers and hushed gossiping from the others.

Dialing your number, he held it up to his ear and the call picked up in only a few rings.

“Hello?”

Mun instinctively smiled hearing your voice, even if it was a bit muffled from the phone.

“Hey, it’s me. We were wondering how far away you were now since we last called. Everyone’s really excited to see you again.”

“I am too! You don’t even know how much I missed you all. Anyways, I think I’m about half an hour away now? So not too long”

“Are you kidding? That’s way too long! Tell the driver to hurry up or something” Mun complained playfully. He heard you sigh on the other side of the phone.

“You’ve already waited a year! This should be nothing compared to that. Jeez, you’re so impatient sometimes.”

“Well that’s only because it’s been that long! Why should I wait longer than I have to so I can see you again?”

You laughed at his whining and Mun’s heart fluttered at the sound. He placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm himself down; it’s just you, he told himself. There was no need to get so nervous.

“I’ll be there soon.” You reassured him. “Maybe you could help out Ms Chu or something to help pass the time”

“Fine.” He finally gave in. “But don’t you dare be late!”

“I’ll see what I can do. But don’t blame me if there’s too much traffic!” You warned him jokingly, making Mun chuckle.

“See you soon, okay? I love you.”

The words came out so naturally that Mun hadn’t even registered what he said until a few moments passed and he was met with a shocking silence on your end. Mun gasped in realization and hung up immediately, not knowing what else to do.

He groaned frustratedly as he slapped his face, scolding himself. So Mun you’re an idiot!, he thought regretfully.

Mun had half a mind to call you back and try to explain himself but millions of thoughts ran through his mind in a second; what if you don’t feel the same? What if you find it weird? How was he ever gonna face you again?

Mun was knocked out of his spiralling thoughts when he felt his phone vibrate in his hand. The screen lit up, showing a text notification from you.

The boy’s shoulders relax slightly, relieved that you aren’t totally mad at him. As Mun tried to decide how to respond, he saw you send another text. But upon reading it, Mun thought his heart almost exploded.

A stupid grin grew on his face while his already erratic heartbeat quickens even more as Mun rereads the text over and over to make sure it his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

#the uncanny counter #the uncanny counter x reader #the uncanny counter fic #so mun #so mun x reader #kdrama #kdrama x reader #kdrama fic #own works #not my best work but itll do #i actually very much dislike using y/n as a name insert but I had to #and how do you write phone calls

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karinasbaby · 13 days

Text

lee heeseung — POOL. [4:58 am]

P. heeseung x fem!reader (+17) | W. mentions of alcohol & a party, unprotected sex, gojou reference, fingering & squirting, dacryphilia, praising + degrading in a way? hee’s cocky & a tiny bit rough, dumbification, slight corruption kink | WC. 1.6k | A,N. quick thought that i had to share, might share more of these while i work on other fics !! also this is for my beloved hana @enha-stars who has been studying & working so hard recently, good luck w everything my beloved :D !!

alright, maybe telling your boyfriend of one month that none of your previous partners were able to make you squirt in a random party at two am wasn’t the brightest idea.

blame it on the alcohol that was running in your system, blame it on your clumsiness and carelessness or your friends that were asking you stupid questions in front of your boyfriend— whatever, none of it mattered right now.

especially not after heeseung’s entire demeanour changed when you dropped such an unexpected bomb for him out of nowhere.

if it wasn’t for your friend gasping loudly he would’ve never made it out of his shocked state, especially right when his fingertips were about to slip against his cup.

and maybe looking at your boyfriend’s darkened, lust filled eyes with your own drunk and needy ones also wasn’t the best idea you were blessed with today, since it led to you and heeseung’s early departure from the party both of you had agreed to stay till sunrise for.

here you were now, dealing with the consequences of your own actions as heeseung picked you up with ease and guided you towards his lap, heavy breaths along with your whines and his grunts echoed throughout your room, your hot body brushed against his sweaty one, each contact and brush felt like pure fire trickling down your skin.

“fuck— seung, please. it’s not going to happen.” you begged for the fourth time in just the span of one hour as heeseung held his pulsing red tip against your dripping slit, “slow down, baby. we have all day ahead of us, it will happen.” he spoke with a sinister smirk against your neck, a result of your weakened body slumping into his own with the continuous exhaustion building up for you.

a pained moan fell from your lips while he groaned under you, his cock practically bruising your walls at this point with his third entrance, “still so tight for me..” he mumbled, closing his eyes and throwing his head on the back of the leather couch he hastily moved the two of you onto.

his hands gripped onto your hips as his own moved upwards, the familiar feeling of his rushed thrusts made tears spring into your eyes, the release of another climax already building up after the two previous ones, heeseung already had you come undone under him first before moving on to having you scream his name onto the pillow while he pounded into you from behind for the second time.

and now he was guiding your hips to follow his rhythm, head set on one goal and it was to make you squirt for the first time with him, the thought of what your previous partners missed out on and barely put effort in was laughable, he couldn’t wrap his head around the amount of missed opportunities on their behalves and yet at the same time a small part of him was relieved and glad they didn’t.

they just gave him another opportunity to imprint himself more into your mind, really.

and he couldn’t really blame himself for the insane amount of stamina and energy he had right now, your words easily enlivened something deep inside of him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without making you squirt on him, not with the way your words have been ringing in his head since the party.

your arousal that mixed with his own leaked down from your inner thighs onto his, the squelching sounds from the connection point between you two was embarrassingly loud in your ears, and the noises only spurred heeseung further.

he picked up the pace, gradually pounding into you from below while both of his hands gripped onto your ass to guide you with him, every whimper and moan might’ve tumbled past your lips next to his ear but all of it was going straight to his throbbing dick that was abusing your cervix now.

your chest heaved on top of his, breathes short as the only thing in your mind was heeseung’s massive length moulding your walls into his size along with the constant twitching of your legs next to his, you felt the knot curling further in your abdomen, a sudden pressure pooling in your lower stomach that made your grip atop his shoulders tighten, nails softly scratching his skin.

“taking me so well baby.. i know you’re close.” he breathed out heavily from under you, his hair disheveled and shiny around his temples as the dark strands stuck on his skin, more droplets of sweat rolled down his body and onto the leather couch the harsher he moved, desperate to fuck you dumb till you squirted.

you nodded mindlessly along to his words, the only thing your teary eyes being able to make out in the dimly lit room was the frustrating smirk that had been plastered onto his face since you both came back, “you crying?” he taunted, his smile stretching wider when his words made your tears spill past your pretty lashes, his arms then trailed to wrap around your lower back and waist, bringing your face into the crook of his neck while he moved beneath you.

moving one hip upwards while the other one down to angle his cock perfectly inside of your gummy walls and then pummelling his length deep till his tip finally hit that one spot that had you gasp in his hold had him seeing stars, “found it, right?” he drunkenly whispered into your ear, pressing his tip further and chuckling in satisfaction when your legs began to tremble completely under him.

“fucking finally.” he groaned out, not daring to pull a single inch out and only grinding himself against you to keep massaging your spot roughly, his smugness growing at the consistent tightening of your cunt around him, his own delayed release long forgotten in his head as he could taste the feeling of reaching his goal on the tip of his tongue.

god the sounds in the room were filthy at this point, the loud drenched noise of your mixed cum that coursed down your ass slapping against his heavy balls the rougher and shorter he thrusted while he whispered more into your ear made your glossy eyes roll into the back of your head.

he gently pushed your upper body from his, “i wanna see your face when you cum again, pretty.” he cooed, his heavy lidded eyes stuck on your fucked out expression, completely cock drunk and fuck was the sight of your swollen pretty lips, flushed face and wet eyelashes so hot.

his arms stayed around your waist to support you, your hands stayed gripping onto his shoulders to stabilise yourself with your shaking legs while heeseung practically split you open.

“i’m— close. so close.” you whimpered out, voice barely audible making heeseung’s eyebrows furrow while he picked up his pace once again, “oh yeah?” in the blink of an eye he had one of his hands wrapped around your throat as he fucked into you viciously, your gasps and moans instantly dying down at the loud sounds of skin slapping.

“go ahead, baby. cum for me.” he ordered, his excitement evident all over his face and body as his smile widened while his cock twitched, pulsing achingly between your snug walls, the coil in your lower stomach tightened painfully, the pressure and the feeling of your release felt so different to all the others yet you couldn’t focus on anything other than the harsh drags of heeseung’s cock inside of you.

and right when your climax was about to wash over you, heeseung’s arms quickly lifted you up from his length, you didn’t even have the time to process the change before three of his fingers thrusted inside of you making you almost go cross eyed, you cried his name as he began to quickly push his fingers in and out.

small chains of fuckfuckfuck’s spilled past both of your lips, arousal drizzling past heeseung’s wrist as he fucked you on his fingers, his own gasps and moans matching your own, eyes stuck on your shaking form above him as he curled his fingers to press on that spot again, “that’s it right there, isn’t it?” he teased, chuckling at the way your jaw went slack at the pleasure seeping through your every vein while he kept thrusting his fingers before your climax finally washed over you mere seconds later.

your body fell atop his while you finally squirted all over his abdomen with moans and mewls of his name reaching his ears and shit was heeseung gone. “good fucking girl..” he grunted under you, his eyes darkening at the sight of the puddle forming on top of the leather, fuck how was he ever going to not have you squirting all over him like a fountain after this?

heeseung felt himself falling in love all over again at the sight of your back arching in his hold, wetness gushing down his forearm with your legs jerking on either side of his hips, the pressure he felt from your cunt only made him thrust back harder making your vision cloud more.

there was absolutely no way that he didn’t just develop a whole obsession in mere seconds.

your mind went numb as he fucked you through your shaking orgasm, slowly beginning to overstimulate you, “no— hee, please no” you sobbed, tears dripping onto his chest while his hands continued to fuck you through your orgasm and begin to pushing you into another one.

“baby, how can i stop after you just did all that?” he spoke with an incredulous expression, how could you ask him that when he just found his newest addiction? as if he wasn’t already addicted to the sweet flavour of your cunt and your warm wet walls now you also were overflowing around him like this and expecting him to stop?

“i’m gonna have you do that again on my dick this time.” he smiled at your heavy lidded and exhausted eyes, finger slowly coming to a stop inside of you while his other hand pushed your head onto his chest again, “like i said, we have all day.”

a, note. this is my eid gift for everyone :D really going back to horny hours w this one so hope u enjoyed !! (this is not proofread !!) <33

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eclairsnme · 9 months

Text

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The troubles of an Idol.

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

notes: she's back with more demands and silliness!! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“Could you make that,” pointing to your chest subtly, “a little bigger?”

Sitting beside the photo editor, you closely observe her working magic on your recent photoshoot with a swimwear brand.

You thought the photos looked great until you caught on to an important missing element.

Boobs.

Big boobs to be specific.

You had boobs but they were not like Hana Haruna’s (*a Japanese pornstar*).

What is the point of posing for a swimwear brand when you lack the assets?

“Maybe if you could just accentuate it a little more,” you gestured your hands to reiterate your idea of a big boob.

“Miss, if I make it any bigger here it’ll look as if you have watermelon jugs as big as your head.”

Your photo editor had a point; your edited chest resembled overblown balloons.

But still! (╯•﹏•╰)

“Isn’t that what the people like? Do you know what they always say? ‘Big boobs don’t lie’.”

“I think you got the wrong idea here, miss.”

“We cannot let the people out there catch me lacking!”

This was your first ever swimwear photoshoot in your entire career. Usually, you will pose for makeup brands and luxury clothing brands.

Swimwear was an uncharted territory. Of course, you were a little overzealous.

Me! The idol who is perfect in every way! Perfect face, perfect figure, and perfect life — an idol who everyone knows and loves.

“Hold on a second, let me refer to my advisor for their advice.”

Imitating a handheld phone with your hands and fingers, you held it towards your ear and spoke through the mock phone.

“Hello, myself. Do you think big boobs are better or small boobs?”

You halted for a second before replying to your own quandary, “Most definitely big boobs.”

With that, you ended the “call”.

“There you have it, miss photo editor. You just have to make it big enough to look natural.”

“If you say so...”

“I am the perfect idol. I cannot lack!”

Maintaining the image of an idol sure is a tough job.

—

“Did she gain some weight?”

“She looked like she had some plastic surgery done to her nose.”

“Oh, I heard she’s dating that one foreign guy!”

“Didn’t you hear how she seduced her way into…”

“She looks like she aged like rotten cheese since her teenage years.”

“Don’t you think she’s the least talented of her siblings?”

Those were just some of the many comments you could ascertain from your dear haters coming from the live audience seat.

You know you are the epitome of perfection. No matter what they say, it would not make you hot under the collar.

Jealously sure is a terrible disease. ┐(´～｀)┌

Currently, you are on a TV show with your male costar, whom you could not really remember his name for he is just a mere NPC.

Today’s show required you to promote a romance drama you acted in last year that has finally been broadcasted this year.

You played the role of the female lead, who fell in love with the male lead at first sight.

It turns out, the group of people who were talking behind your back was this NPC costar’s groupies.

Tsk. Bunch of buzzing bees.

They were on a nonstop mission to pour vitriolic attacks on you.

Despite all the hate, you thought it was quite flattering that they were giving you such undivided attention albeit having their “idol” — NPC costar — right beside you.

Yet again, you have proved to yourself that you are indeed the star of the show! Haters are part of the package of being so irresistible!

(Ŏ艸Ŏ)

You giggled at that.

“This is the hottest romance drama of this season that is sure to get you excited!” The host bellowed, prompting a wave of applause from the audience.

You smiled at the reception.

The interview was filled with scripted questions which you accordingly answered to.

Too easy.

You just had to smile sweetly at everyone to have them fall in love with you. Even the bunch of groupies could not help but to fall for your charm.

Everything was going swimmingly until the host pulled out his wild card — an unscripted question directed at you.

“As a famous idol, do you have any real-life romantic experiences that are swoon-worthy to share with the audience?” The host said in an overly enthusiastic tone.

The audience gasps.

All the cameras were then angled at you anticipating your response.

You smiled sweetly at the host.

Does this guy hate me or something? He must be my number one hater!

Your privacy has always been prioritised as an idol.

Not much was known about your private life until the recent news of your relationship with the Itoshi siblings broke out.

Disregarding that, the matter of your romantic relationship was a topic deemed taboo even to your fans.

The genesis of the taboo nature of your private romantic life started from an honest discussion among the netizens.

They were speculating who you were romantically involved with but it was all for naught as they could not find even a speck of man involved with you.

Even when feverish stalkers took matters into their own hands, they still could not find dirt on you.

Male costars? You treated them like dirt off-camera.

Other male celebrities? You did not even bother looking in their direction or bear to breathe the same air as them for you are better than them.

It soon became apparent to them that perhaps you had a secret affair or were involved in something incredibly scandalous — maybe you were interested in unique deviances?

Their theories then became out of control and so out of pocket that everyone began making up weird conclusions of their own online, which caused a huge uproar.

In the end, everyone decided to be more hush about that topic.

In reality, the truth as to why no one was able to dig up any evidence of you in a relationship was simply because you have always been single as a pringle.

How could a young eligible, gorgeous and talented bachelorette be so single? ( ▀ 益 ▀ )

That is because your brain only contains idol-related information. Everything else? Nil.

Is this man mocking me?

“Surely someone as pretty as you would have countless opportunities for love isn’t it?” The host continued with his onslaught of probing.

Should I strangle him? Or should I just slap him? No no no. Evil monologue shut up.

You look over to your manager and gave him the death glare.

In response to that, he expeditiously told the producers to temporarily halt the program.

With hands akimbo, your tall and slim frame overwhelmed the short and stubby manager.

You frowned at him and harshly whispered to his ears, “Get me a boyfriend ASAP!”

“Eh?!”

—

The program ended and you finally let out a long sigh in the car.

“So did you find me a boyfriend yet?”

“I-I don’t think that is how relationships work! I cannot just magically bring you a boyfriend.”

“But I want a boyfriend! So find me one!” You exclaimed helplessly.

Your manager sighed at your zero concepts of relationships and love.

“Have you loved someone before?”

“Myself.”

“Other than yourself?”

“Is this a trick question or something?”

Mr Manager glances at the rearview mirror with a defeated expression.

“Have you experienced love before?”

“What’s that?” You asked, fingers on your chin unsure what the heck that meant. ಠ╭╮ಠ

“The butterflies in your stomach when you meet someone you love!” He exasperated.

“Oh, that! Whenever I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror, I get this inexplicable feeling of that thing you described!”

This was a lost cause. Although you acted in numerous romance dramas, you still did not grasp the meaning of love. What a hypocrisy it is.

“To have a boyfriend, you must first love that person!”

“What? That sounds like a hassle. I just want a boyfriend.”

Mr manager scrunched his nose in disbelief.

“And why do you exactly want a ‘boyfriend’? This can’t be another of your impulsive thoughts is it?”

Mr manager had a déjà vu of a time when you ordered him to get you a pet tiger.

“No, it is not! What with all these questions, Mr interrogator?”

“…”

“Shut up and just get me a boyfriend.”

“So I have the right to set you up on a date?”

“Whatever it is, I want a boyfriend. I am being very extremely superbly serious!” You said with finality.

Mr Manager could only sigh in defeat yet again for the umpteenth time.

“But you are a public figure–”

You snapped at Mr Manager, “Shut up!”

He continued driving the car, looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

Any man would die to date you; you were a beguiling and dazzling lady. However, your attitude was something he was not sure any man would be able to handle.

In his entire career of being your manager, not once has he had a good day. Every day was filled with problems caused by you that he had to solve.

His brow scrunched together in grim defeat.

Boyfriend huh? Good luck to that unlucky guy.

You, on the other hand, seating cross-legged in the backseat, were marinating in annoyance.

After experiencing the mockery of the host deprecating your love life, you could not let that slide.

You had to ratio him.

Was it immature? Debatable.

Your only participation in this so-called romantic relationship concept was acting in dramas and movies.

And your exposure to the male species was…

Ehem.

Despite being an idol, your otherwise desolate personal life painted you as a lone wolf.

In your life, it was all work and dedication to being the best.

You were on fire! On fire to get a boyfriend! You will show them that you are capable of anything, and not lacking in any department!

The constant buzz of your phone eventually broke you out of your daze.

When you saw the screen, you immediately picked up the call.

“Rin!”

“I’m one step closer to demolishing brother.”

Eh? ！(◎_◎;)

You took the phone away from your ear and stared into the screen making sure you have the right person on the phone.

After confirming it’s the right person, you responded, “What do you mean demolishing your brother?”

“I’ve joined Paris X Gen in Blue Lock to become the best striker and to destroy brother.”

“Mmm… you are destroying my heart, Rin. Why are you still talking about your brother like this?”

“I will be better and he will finally acknowledge me.”

You murmured incoherent thoughts with a frown.

This pent-up hatred can go no further!

“Sister?”

“Where are you now?”

“In the Blue Lock facility. Why?”

You hung up the phone.

“Drive me to this Blue Lock facility place,” you ordered Mr Manager.

—

As soon as you arrive at the Blue Lock building, you were met with strict security.

“Let me in you low-life man.”

“Miss, this is not a place you can just walk in.”

“And a measly man like you can?”

You had been at this for a good 10 minutes, going back and forth with the stubby man and his group of security guards.

Getting sick and tired of this nonsense, you slap the man's fake wig off his head. The wig which was so fake you could see your reflection on it, flew away dramatically and plopped onto the hard asphalt ground.

“M-my hair!” He ran straight to the plastic wig.

“What’s with all these ruckus?”

The hairless man exclaimed at the sight of the short-haired woman.

Your attention went towards the petite, short-haired woman. She looked about your age. As she moved closer to you, almost immediately, your attention snapped to her big bust.

Those are what I call knockers! OMG! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Too busy ogling at her melons, you didn’t realise she was calling out for you.

Snapping yourself out of it, you introduced yourself.

“You are the popular idol!” The busty lady interrupted you, “I am, Anri Teieri, the manager of this facility. This is a strictly out-of-bounds area. What business does an idol like you have here?”

“Miss Anri, you see I have an underaged brother here and I, as his attending guardian, need to see him.”

“I’m sorry, but only authorised personnel can enter the premises.”

“Then authorise me. My little brother is feeling so homesick he was practically begging on his knees to meet me.”

“Every participant here is dedicated to being the best striker, we cannot afford any distractions such as yourself. I’m sure your little brother understands this — it’s all part of the process,” Anri puffed her chest out.

Seeing the physics of her melons do their job, you unconsciously covered your own chest.

That’s unfair! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Anri observed the female opposite her. Hands down, you are the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. A face sculpted by the gods and paired with those glassy teal eyes that just compelled attraction. Of course, she knew who you are — who doesn’t.

Honestly, Anri was a huge fan of your work. She had collected all your albums and watched all your shows.

You could say that she’s a fan girl.

She also knew that you were the older sister of Rin Itoshi. She had looked through each player's records and with the recent breakout news that you are related to the Itoshi siblings, no doubt you are his sister.

However, she cannot haphazardly let you enter.

What goes on inside Blue Lock is confidential.

“Who is in charge of this building? Call him out now,” you demanded, unwilling to leave until you got what you want.

As if the big man up there had heard your quandary, Anri’s phone rang and it was Ego.

“Let her in,” the deep voice reverberated in her ear.

Ego stared at the monitor, observing Anri and the idol through the surveillance camera.

“But,” Anri tried to protest to no avail as Ego quickly intercepted.

“No harm letting her in.”

With that, the call ended, leaving a befuddled Anri.

“The general manager called and said you are allowed in,” Anri hesitantly said.

“That wasn’t too hard isn’t it?” You smiled, satisfied.

EHE god is always on my side. ✌︎('ω')✌︎

—

The Blue Lock facility was a massive site. It was bigger than any skyscraper you had ever seen. This could easily be the most impressive building in Japan.

The space was so big that every step you took became a loud echo.

“Hey, big melon woman,” you called out for her.

“P-pardon m-m-me?” Anri is flustered at your bluntness.

“Yes, you.” You replied, disregarding her blushing face, “Where’s Rin?”

“The Blue Lock players are currently undergoing their training as of now, therefore I’ll be bringing you to the surveillance room where Ego is at.”

“And should I know what this Ego thing is?”

“Ego is a man I chose to oversee this Blue Lock project.”

“Oho — so you are the mastermind? That’s pretty impressive.”

That was impressive. You had an inkling an old, wrinkly man was behind Blue Lock but to think it was the big melon woman? That was impressive in your books.

Well, that and coupled with your bias for big boobs. (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

Leading you through the vast hallway, both of you finally arrived at your destination.

Anri knocked on the door a couple of times.

“Come in,” came a reply.

As soon as the door opened, you were welcomed by the bright screens of many monitors.

Looking at the screens, they were all surveilling all of the Blue Lock players in the facility.

“Ego, this is the idol you told me to bring along.”

“Here, what you are witnessing are all the unpolished diamonds striving to become the best striker the world will soon witness,” Ego stood up, overwhelming your frame even though you weren’t short by any means.

Ego was a tall, lanky man and you cannot help but compare him to the game character called “Slenderman”.

“Make no mistake that we are the next revolution of football,” continued Ego.

You took a step towards the monitors and scrutinised trying to locate Rin.

“Note this, every day, every boy here only thinks about eating, sleeping and football,” continued Ego.

Still unable to find Rin, you pulled Anri and ask her to help you look for him. More pair of eyes will get the job done.

“We have never allowed any outsider to our facility and you are the first. Consider this a blessing that I am a fan of your works and have allowed you to witness this holy sanctuary,” continued Ego.

Where is Rin?!

“There he is!” Anri smiled as she pointed at a monitor to your far left.

Rin was on the field practising with other players.

“Bring me to him,” you interrupted Ego’s nonstop rant.

“I will, but I have a better idea,” he suspiciously said.

—

On the side of the field, Rin took off his football boots.

The nonstop practice and matches had worn out his boots till the original colour was gone.

It was not even a week since he had joined Paris X Gen, and the regiment was even harsher than before.

It was not for nothing though, he could feel his stamina, strength and ability getting better.

Nothing can stop him from achieving greater heights.

Be it the jerk Shidou or Isagi, he will be better.

But he cannot help to still feel that he is lacking somethi-

"RIN!"

The speaker rumbled throughout the entire Blue Lock building.

The big screen flickered and you came to view.

Rin sank back and covered his face; covering the heavy blush that instantly painted his face bright red.

"Sister..." he muttered under his breath, "What are you doing here?"

Embarrassment was currently the biggest understatement as he tried to pretend he did not hear or see anything.

"Hey, isn't that the idol? Am I dreaming right now?" Karasu gasps at your appearance.

"Rin, can you hear me?" You waved your hand trying to get your little brother's attention.

The Ego man told you that you can communicate with Rin through the screen but what a big liar he was!

On the monitor, the figure of Rin showed that he was still minding his own business as if he did not know you are here.

"Your dearly beloved sister is here!" You shouted into the mic again thinking that perhaps it was some faulty audio.

Your voice echoed throughout the building again, everyone in the building had their attention on you.

Uproars could be heard from the players in every room exclaiming at the sight of a popular idol.

You continued calling out for brother. After all, Ego had nicely set up a Zoom call for you, you cannot let this opportunity go to waste.

Why isn't he looking at me? (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

At the corner of the room, away from the screen, Ego held back his laughter and Anri silently stood unable to help you.

—

"Hey, Reo-" Nagi poked Reo, "isn't that the videogame character?"

"She's the person the videogame character was modelled after," Reo replied.

“She’s a real person?” Nagi said in disbelief.

Unlike Nagi, who only knew you from his game, Reo has actually went to your live concerts multiple times.

After all, your concerts were sponsored by Mikage Corporation.

“Even in real life, she look like a video game character.”

“Is it because she look so unreal?” Reo replied.

—

"Meine Leibe, you have come for me," Kaiser stopped his track as soon as he heard your voice.

Pushing Isagi out of his way, he walked towards the screen with both arms out.

“This must be fate.”

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Part 4

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