#okie okie part 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr Inc. has $15.1M in annual revenue.

willowser · 6 months

Text

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds.

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating.

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is.

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

#narrator voice: willow did not have the spoons to extend the ending #whoopsie #okie okie part 2 #✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

387 notes · View notes

angeltism · 23 days

Note

𐂯　｡　if yuu have a media appearance(s) in d4dj shy would luve to know bc shy has a few as well ehe :33

I'm just starting to play so I'm nyat tooooo sure yet,, however with me being in like everything I get into. somehow. I have nyo doubt at least a few characters r gonna go onto my fragment list fufu !

#➳ the fool's mail box #➳ sender; amoresse #would love 2 know about uur appearances in media but umumumummm i know some aren't okie w just. sharing #i mean my list is semi private anyways so i get it #buuut if uu feel like sharing even just a few I'm all ears ehe ^o^#I'm a little scared abt being a bunch of the gals though bc i am. 6 pj.sk characters. 7-8 if uu add the VS. sos #(part of the reason my list is priv is because it's so dang long it gets a bit embarrassing uweh T_T)#but umumumumummmmm anyways :3

2 notes · View notes

conziergearch · 2 years

Text

ARCTIC BIOSYSTEMS RESEARCH FACILITY, GREENLAND. 11:42 AM. ―― @nuseven

the sky stretches almost in the same shade of the glaciers bordering on clouds, behind the sharp silhouette of the perpetual ice. the sound of approaching footfall echoes through the walls into his spacious office : seemingly a sign of academic decadence, but given his near endless working hours and the absence of any space to truly retreat, the room shrinks until it’s just him in front of a wide window and a busy desk on which he keeps his laboratory notebooks. there’s impatience in the movement, audible long before the door to his office opens and daniel gives him an apologetic look. he waves it away, offers his guest the same tired smile he offers anyone irrational enough to undertake the long journey. “ mr keen, ” he greets, hand extended. he’s got warm palms, slightly calloused, and smelling of disinfectant. “ i’m impressed, susan hargrave is not exactly known to just hand out expensive equipment. she must like you very much. ” in the distance behind his shoulders, the helicopter that brought his guest to the research facility lifts off again to bring its pilot and crew back to the capital further south. ten hours, that was the deal. anything below that margin is needlessly complicated and requires an excess of resources ; anything above it means too much interference with his work. he observes tom with calculating eyes, they’re brown and warm and catch the slightest of imperfections. slowly, hiroshi walks over to his desk.

“ i admit i was not entirely honest during our exchange. jan called me prior to your request for a personal meeting. ” hand outstretches and takes hold of a teapot. the scent of green tea fills the air when he pours two cups. “ i understand your curiosity, i am after all a scientist. but your… quest for the truth has led you down a rabbit hole, tom. jan uhlich is part of the cabal. in your naive attempts of finding out the truth about gennadiy zakharchenko, you raised questions. for the past forty years, i tried to keep the cabal from even considering her a potential candidate so she could do what i couldn’t. and now you’ve sicced the dogs on her. velov, the cabal… was it worth it? ”

#nuseven #u do not perceive me. part 2 #i swear im finishing chapter 9 of immuno today oki <3 i just love u too much #― 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 ， you don't take credit for something until you're done. default *#― 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ， hiroshi hatake & jacob phelps ，nuseven *

12 notes · View notes

fist-amidst-the-hands · 1 year

Text

almost forgot it’s wip wednesday (oops) but hey at least I actually got the right day of the week this time

—————————-

Izzy wakes with a start to someone whisper-shouting his name. Not just someone, he thinks through the quick-lifting haze of sleep, Edward. Only Edward calls him Iz. Edward, who was still downing rum by the bottle on deck with Jack when Izzy finally retreated to his quarters. That had to be what, hours ago at least? Izzy groans and turns away from the harsh sound.

“Iz! Izzy, where are you?” Izzy contemplates playing off his initial response as shifting in his sleep but abandons that idea pretty quickly, given that Edward would probably just come wake up him anyway. Better to get on with it… Izzy stealthily hops off his bed, closing the distance between them in a few short strides. “Fuck I can’t see anything!”

“I’m right here.” His quiet delivery gives the exact intended response, which of course is Edward nearly jumping out of his skin and launching into one of his (completely not endearing) nervous rambles.

#ofmd wip #ofmd snippet #blackhands #wip wednesday #yeah yeah it's more of the thing that's being written in two simultaneous versions because I *still* can't decide if I like izzy or ed's pov #better. they both give info the other doesn't necessarily focus on so... both? both is good #but i have way more actually written for izzy most of ed's is just vaguely plotted #idk why izzy's pov is so much easier to write but hey it is what it is #also this will eventually need a title oh goodness #oh and I still might write jack out of this whole thing he's mentioned like 2-3 times in passing but it's not crucial really #anyway apparently i'm part of club 'let izzy have some enrichment let izzy have some fun let izzy scare the pants off ed'#he deserves it tbh #okie dokie until next week #how's this for a writing tag

2 notes · View notes

keets-writing-corner · 2 months

Note

Love how Lucifer just manhandles Adam during their 'fight' despite everyone else getting their asses kicked. Plus him effortlessly destroying him when Charlie's in danger is really sweet.

gawd me too anon me too

that was everything me to me. like everything. It was built up so well too

we spent the whole season building up alastor as this massive powerhouse, eldritch, nobody messes with him. Only one who tried picking a fight with him (Vox) got utterly humiliated and everyone else was clearly outclassed. Except for Lucifer where Alastor merely just went with annoying instead of power challenging. Like we got vibes okay yeah makes sense that the King of Hell isn't intimidated by anyone, even if it's alastor, but Alastor got TWO wtf moments in Dad Beat Dad one with Husk and one with defending the hotel

other than that, it was pretty much, nobody messes with him cuz he will mess you up

and he fights Adam evenly sorta for a bit before Adam pulls out the "I'm an angel which is stronger than any demon" card and alastor gets his ass handed to him.

Like what a way to set up how strong ADAM is, having him beat Alastor. And then no one else in the hotel is as strong as Alastor was, so everyone's struggling. Charlie at least gets one good hit in but her inexperience kicks her in the ass and then Lucifer just shows up and

like hot DAMN that was just one hit! He broke Adam's mask, the force was enough to send him FLYING across the roof top, and bounce so hard against the billboard he BROKE THE SKYLIGHT

That was just a "HANDS OFF MY BABY" warning too, like LOOK at that face, that's not a "fight me" face it's a "if you touch my baby again, I will screw you so bad your bones will need therapy and you never recover"

Lucifer not even .2 seconds later, just upon seeing Charlie

and then yeah, Lucifer was NOT taking the fight with Adam serious at all, like the dude was taunting him, mocking him, dodging all of his attacks, just shapeshifting like Adam was a joke LIKE LOOK AT THIS

Lucifer isn't even scared, he's just "oh there's a wall there"

His FACE IM DYING he's legit like "wowwww you just tried shoving me into a wall? really? didn't have any other ideas? Soooooo original of you. I will mock you now"

HIS HANDS ARE BEHIND HIS BACK HE FOR REAL SAID HE COULD TAKE ADAM WITH BOTH HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK

rewatching rn for the screenshots, he's legit just shapeshifting for the fun of it. 70% of the time nothing has happened, he's just dodging adam and shapeshifting while doing it, like he doesn't need to be doing that this is 100% mockery.

And then the iconic

like omgggg this is soooo satisfying and amazing to watch. Like the set up of Adam being powerful was great, and then we just get this absolute trolling from Lucifer cuz he really doesn't care about Adam

And listen the trolling is great and all, but when Adam makes the mistake of not heeding Lucifer's warning of messing with his baby, and then does it a second time

RIP Adam just getting one shot-ed like that but hnnnnnggggg we got to see Lucifer fully pissed and it was GREAT

And somehow my favorite part wasn't even watching Lucifer go absolute ham on Adam, it was that even at his absolute most rage fueled moment, snarling like a beast where he was going to and fully intended on making good on his threat about messing with his baby

just one shoulder touch from Charlie and he's immediately chill. Like it's instantaneous, like how much do you love someone to be able to be absolutely livid, about to incinerate someone levels of rage only to immediately be "o oki! No more violence!" the second that person touches you???

Ugh I love them so much! Like everything about that fight, but especially how Lucifer can just go from absolutely the most dangerous person in one second and then OWO SOFT the next just by looking at Charlie

oops this post got long... IMSORRYYYYY other than "More than Anything" and the phonecall with charlie this is one of the scenes I replay the most, I love them so much

Characters going absolutely feral over loved ones is just aasdfadffalklkmafdjalsg 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

645 notes · View notes

gloomyluvr · 10 months

Text

LOOK LIKE WE IN LOVE

in which y/n drags miles to a photo booth!

fem!reader x e-42! miles morales

fluff ( i hope )

warnings!: suggestive jokes? i depict miles kinda nonchalant, yikes.

based off this ask

a/n: okie soooo i tried my best to fulfill the request. i hope this is up to expectations. this one was so cute to write. also, i watched so many photo booth couple videos on tt and it was lowks depressing 😞 but i had so much fun writing this! as always, spanish speaking reader in mind! i provide translations for this one cuz searching up the translation is VERY inaccurate.

masterlist

summer break had finally started and what better way to spend it than going to the mall with your boyfriend? you walked around intently, hand intertwined with miles’. his serious demeanor deeply contrasted the big smile on your face. you had begged him to accompany you to this very specific mall.

“baby, where are you taking me?” he murmured as you dragged him to god knows where.

“just waittt. ya mero llegamos.” you exclaimed. miles simply sighed and went along with your antics. you walked a little more until you finally stopped in front of a box? with a curtain?

“ta daaaa!” you announced, letting go of miles’ hand. miles only looked at the box and back at you, with a clearly very confused look on his face. you groaned, “the photobooth like the ones from the tik toks i’ve sent you!”

“ohh. pues, you coulda just said that.” he chuckled, as he opened the curtain and motioned for you to get inside the booth. you rolled your eyes, “¡vámonos vámonos! taking your sweet ass time.” miles joked as you got in, yelping in surprise as he slapped your ass.

“miles!”

“chill!” he laughed.

“that shit hurt!” you glared at miles with a pout on your face.

he only smirked, “pues, te lo puedo sobar.”

( well, i could massage it for you )

“¡cohcino!” you slapped your boyfriends shoulder as he got inside the booth.

( nasty! )

“im just playing, mami. okay come on let’s get this over with.” he closed the curtain as you read the instructions.

“wanna pay for this and i’ll pay for lunch?” you offer knowing damn well he’d pay for both regardless.

“mhm.” miles took out 4 dollars from his wallet and inserted the bills in to the machine. the machine started rambling on about instructions and miles looked at you. “can’t believe you got me doing this shit.” your boyfriend laughed in disbelief.

miles wrapped a hand around your waist and scooted you closer to him. you giggled, it truly was amusing on how you got this stoic of a man to be doing the most lovey-dovey shit just so he could see a smile on your face.

“now for the fun part! you have 3 chances to pose, so have fun, make sure you look at the camera” the automated voice instructed.

“put your finger as a heart!”

“seriously?” miles argued.

“get ready! 3-”

“yes! hurry!” you insisted.

miles smiles and did as you asked.

“2, 1” shutter.

there was a pause before the countdown started again. you held miles’ jaw and pressed your lips against his cheek. and miles smiled contently.

shutter.

“that one’s gonna come out so cute i just know it!” you looked at miles excitedly. on his cheek your lipgloss left a stain with the perfect imprint of your lips. miles turned to you as the countdown once again started. he placed his hands on both sides of your face, and kissed you right as the camera went off. when he finally pulled away, he simply smiled before opening the curtain to get out of the booth. you followed him out and stood silently holding his hand as you waited for the pictures to print.

once the copies came out, you quickly snatched them. “ah!!! they look so cute! thank you baby.” you engulfed him in a tight hug to which he reciprocated.

miles took one of the copies and focused only on you in the photos.

“you look gorgeous, ma.” he looked down at you and gave you that lovely smile of his. you blushed, looking down avoiding his gaze because of how nervous and giggly it made you.

bonus !

aaron sat down in front of miles who was on his phone doing god knows what.

“they messed up the order so we’re gonna have to wait a bit more.” aaron sighed.

“hm ok.” miles responded dryly.

aaron was about to make a comment about his nephews disinterest when he noticed miles had decorated his once empy clear phone case. it was pictures of miles clearly infatuated with his lover.

“your girl made you do that?” miles looked up from his phone in confusion.

“what?” uncle aaron nodded towards the phone in miles’ hands, “oh. yeah she’s been wanting do that for a while.”

aaron laughed, “she got you real wrapped around her finger huh?”

miles turned the back of his phone towards him, “yeah guess so.” he laughed along with his uncle. he admired the photos, thumb running over his phone case. his heart swelled at how beautiful you looked and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

#miles morales x reader #Miguel O’Hara #miles morales imagine #Miles Morales #hobie brown x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #across the spiderverse #astv

2K notes · View notes

project-sekai-facts · 5 months

Text

Tsukasa and Rui are known collectively amongst their classmates as "Oddball 1-2 Finish" (in the JP, KR, and TW servers. The English localisation calls them "Weirdo Wombo Combo"). Due to this, they are frequently asociated with the numbers 1, 2 and any combination or variation of the two (12, 21, etc), both individually and as a duo.

In terms of cover songs, there's Telecaster B-Boy, where they sing the counting part at the beginning. Tsukasa says the number 1, and Rui says the number 2. Tsukasa is Oddball 1, and Rui is Oddball 2.

There's also a lyric in Oki ni Mesu mama sung by Tsukasa, that goes "Waiting for the "1, 2..." signal, holding hands with you is an act of courage for me". Whilst the lyric itself is entirely coincidental, having Tsukasa sing it was very likely intentional. The cover supposedly represents the growth in trust between Tsukasa and Rui, so with that context in mind, one could view the lyric as a reference to Tsukasa reaching out his hand to Rui at the end of the main story, a significant step in the development of their mutual trust.

There's also a few instances of staff releasing content for them on the 21st of a month. Examples include the Fixer 2DMV, which released on September 21st 2023, and their 2022 Summer Memorial illustration releasing on the 21st of August that year. This was also the 12th illustration in that series.

Coincidentally (or maybe not), A Story Where You Are the Star released on the 22nd of November 2023, or 11/22, and featured them both as 4* cards on the accompanying gacha. The event was announced the day prior, on the 21st again.

Rui's 3rd Anniversary Countdown illustration depicted their pillow fight from A Once-In-A-Lifetime Pandemonium!?, an event focused on their relationship, and was released 12 days before the anniversary.

The OST that plays during their Romeo and Juliet rehearsal in KAMIKOU FESTIVAL!, Ma・Ai no Theme ~True Love Song~, was later reused in A Song of Vows for You, Dressed in Pure White and released on the 2nd OST Album alongside the other music from that event. However, instead of being listed with the other tracks from that event on the album, it's listed as track 12.

Them being in class 3-C is a pun based on their status as Oddball 1-2. C is pronounced as "shi" in Japanese, which is the same as how the Japanese word for four is pronounced. Tsukasa and Rui being in class 3-C makes 1 2 3 4. Additionally, 1+2=3, and if you apply A=1, B-2, so on, then this also applies to A (Tsukasa's original class) + B (Rui's original class) =C.

There's also various smaller references, such as the full combo for KING on expert being 1002, Tsukasa growing 1cm and Rui growing 2cm at the 3rd anniversary, as well as Tsukasa telling Rui in the main story that he'll put 12000% into any role Rui gives him. The 12000% quote was also referenced in the 2DMV for their Dappou Rock cover.

#i'm playing colopale at their own game if they're gonna keep up the 1-2 references then i'll 1-up them #(i'm running this joke into the ground on my first go so i never have to make it again)#project sekai #tsukasa tenma #rui kamishiro

687 notes · View notes

jessiexcorner · 11 days

Text

Heartbreak Highs (pt. 4)

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader.

Part 1:

Heartbreak Highs

Part 2:

Heartbreak highs pt. 2

Part 3:

Heartbreak Highs. (pt. 3)

It had only taken Amerie a few minutes to come up after Harper and (Y/n). (Y/n) watched as she hurried along to leave, inside she was sort of glad about it, that was until she saw Darren and Quinni leave with her hand in hand. Jealously rose inside her like a tidal wave. What was that? Her friends asked her to come then barely spend time with her and leave with Amerie!

"You alright?" Harper asked her friend who seemed to be glaring in Amerie's direction.

"Hm?"

"You seem distracted. You okay?"

"Oh, yeah.. just tired."

"We can go home if you want?"

"No, you should party--"

"(Y/n)"

"Im fine really! go, go dance." "You sure?"

"Hm!"

"Really?"

"...Okay maybe i do want to leave but i still want you to enjoy yourself." (Y/n) confesses softly. Harper smiles, holding hands with the girl.

"That's fine, i'll be okay, really, you can go home."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. i have my phone and your necklace remember?" Harper pulls out the emergency pendant that, once clicked sends a message of the wearer's location and a distress signal.

"Okay, if you're sure?" (Y/n) says shuffling about not ready to let go of the blonde girl.

"Yes, go on, go" Harper waves the girl off.

"Okay, call me if you need a ride, and if you go somewhere, or if youre lonely!" (Y/n) rambles on as Harper pushes her along to the exit.

"I'll be fine babes! go,"

"Okay, see you later?" Harper nods and lets the girl go.

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

The morning after entering school (Y/n) again tries to reconnect with her friends. Spotting them in a corner and walking up to them with a smile only to pause when the scene infront of her plays out. Darren and Quinni smile arms openly calling over someone, Amerie. "Hey! Over here! Amerie, this way! It's our new bestie." "Morning." "Hello!" Quinni links her arm around the brown girl and walks with her to class. If that wasn't enough to make (Y/n)'s blood boil she didnt know what was. She takes a breath and heads to Harper to talk with. Spotting the girl standing next to a boy she walks closer only to pause, was that Dusty? She links arms with the blonde girl startling her a bit.

"Hope i'm not interrupting?"

"Not at all," Harper links her arm with (Y/n)'s as they walk away.

"So, whats that about?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Hm!"

(Y/n)'s eyes narrow in suspicion looking back she sees dusty gazing longlingy at Harper, and back at the girl next to her. "..Oh my-- Did you two-" (Y/n) gasps.

"Hush." Harper says with a cheekiy smile.

"No way!"

"Hush, it was just a hookup, nothing serious."

"...okay... did you have fun?" (Y/n) asks not sure what to ask in the conversation.

"...um, sure."

"okie. That's good."

The next time (Y/n) interacts with her friends again is in the SLTs class. They talk with her as if nothing is new or changed so she can't react much. She doesn't confront them about the Amerie thing, or the ditching her at the party thing. Instead the friends catch up for the little time they can until Amerie comes back taking her place. The second she sees them is during P.E. when she finds out Quinni likes Sasha and watches her ask her out, from across the field. She sighs feeling left out. In the changing rooms she spots Harper changing, the girl's back facing her and slumps her head against her shoulder whining, making the blond laugh.

"Whats up?" (Y/n) sighs in response, before looking over Harper's bruise.

"..I'll tell you at home, you still using the ointment I gave you?" (Y/n) light grazes the wound with her finger making Harper ticklish.

"Yes, and it doesn't hurt as much anymore."

"Good." The (h/c) haired girl lets go, letting her change.

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

Amerie walks up the court dodging the field of sweaty teens to the one white boy who could solve her problem. "Spider, please sell me a slap band." "What? No. You cooked? No way." The boy refuses not even glancing at her. "Dusty said I could come." "Why do you think he put me in charge of tickets? Huh? Keep tossers like you out." "Twenty bucks, right? I can transfer it to you right now." "No, it's, uh... It's gone up to eighty now." "Come on, I'm asking you nicely. Please..." "Ninety. Be 100 in a minute." "Listen, you mayonnaise fuck. What is your problem with me?" Spider pauses before thinking of his answer. "You're the reason we're in SLTs." "Well, SLTs is cancelled. Okay, so..." Amiere announces causing the other students to murmur.

"You really want to come?" "Yes, please." "Hundred bucks, then." Spider grins tossing the basketball in the hoop. Amerie rolls her eyes about to walk away when someone walking towards her catches her eye. (Y/n) walks past the brown skinned girl straight to Spider.

"Hey. Still got those ticket things?" She asks him. The boy raises a brow.

"What you plan on coming fish?" He teases.

"Actually yeah." (Y/n) says bluntly, pulling out two twenty dollar bills. "Got two?" Spider pauses looking between the girl and the money, he might have reconsidered had he not caught the glimpse of anger and annoyance on Amerie's face making him grin.

"Actually just for your first time, i'll give you a discount, twenty for both."

"What?!" Amerie reacts frustated.

"Fine by me." (Y/n) shrugs handing him one of the twenties instead.

"Pleasure doing business, i'll bring your bracelets to you." He smiles taking the money as the girl walks away.

"How is that fair?!" Amerie whines, walking off, only to receive a bracelet from Malakai.

(Y/n) was starting to regret coming to this party the minute Amerie jumped over a wall and fell into the pool, as Malakai laughed with her. She couldnt help but feel that twinge of jealously once more. Its not like Malakai and her even talked more than one or two times, but he sort of maybe flirted with her...kind of? She shakes her head. its not like she can blame him, or anyone else for this. She was never the best at flirting or showing someone her feelings romantically.

"You okay?" Harper's voice breaks her train of thought.

"Yeah why?"

"..didn't you like the new gu--"

"No."

"..okay,"

She mostly stuck with Harper throughout the party that is when she saw Quinni upset and running around, quickly informing Harper, she runs after the sparkle covered girl. She watches as Quinni breaks down in the bathroom, Amerie trying to take a step closer only to be stopped by Darren who tells her to leave nicely. The three friends once more reunited calm Quinni down, and relax with her. (Y/n) sitting on the side of the tub reading a book online on her phone.

"Okay, I think I'm good to go now." Quinni announces softly. "Stunning." Darren says taking off their eye mask.

(Y/n) gives her friends a soft smile as they walk back down to the party. "Where is Amerie?" As much as (Y/n) wanted to say 'who cares?' she bit her tongue holding back. Quinni spots Sasha and chats with her after assuring her friends.

Sorry for the sloppy chapter guys, my laptop broke and i lost my writing.

@inkpot-winters

@juhdoche

@minnipe

@shycreationdreamland

@meowiemari

#heartbreakhigh #heartbreakhighamerie #amerie #harpermclean #malakai #malakai x reader #harper x reader #heartbreakhigh2022 #darren #quinni #heartbreakhighdarren #heartbreakhighquinni #heartbreak high x reader

163 notes · View notes

bby-bo · 1 year

Text

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on.

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school. You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again.

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building.

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??”

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here.

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him.

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again.

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it.

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business.

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now.

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise”

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now.

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in.

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage.

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.”

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”.

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling.

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!”

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question”

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you.

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.”

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this.

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair.

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all.

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist.

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless. There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note.

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.”

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”