#you just assume it’s your boyfriend ….. maybe fear holding you in place instead of the literal queen of curses

[ducknotinarow]

[2012 RaphArnold - hug your father in law because here he is being a dad]

"Raphael, there yer are," Arnold grinned, just having caught a glimpse of green, "Was wonderin' if I coul' show yer somethin' pretty quick."

When the Turtle came over, Arnold showed him said thing - a book. A clearly old book, hand made, with older papers with hand written words, and a ribbon binding everything together. On the front, in faded, yet beautiful, cursive was a simple phrase: 'Jones Family Cook book'. Arnold smiled,

"This has been in my family for years, my ma gave it t' me, an' her ma gave it t' her, an' their ma t' them, an' so on, for generations," Arnold explains, "We all add our own recipes t'."

Arnold was careful as he flicked through the pages, showing as they got newer, the writing changed. Even Casey and Angel had little sections near the end, each one separated by a tab made by said person, though, Casey and Angel's parts had very few recipes added,

"I've already taught Casey an' Angel my own, an' I'd like t' teach yer the same ones t', I trus' yer won't burn anythin'," He lightly jokes, soon sighing softly, "But, there's jus' one problem with the book, it's missin' someone," Arnold looks to Raph, smile soft, "It's missin' yer section."

Arnold is careful as he holds out the book to them, waiting for Raphael to take it,

"Yer my son t' Raph, an' I wan' yer t' add t' our book, if yer wan' t' as well," Arnold asks of them, "Who knows, if yer an' Casey ever get a few munchkins of yerself, they can add t' it t' - but uh, I'm sure that's a long way away."

He barely knew Raph but was already thinking about grandkids, maybe he should slow down a little,

"Still, I'd like yer t' add to our family book, an' when yer get some more time, I'll teach yer my lasagne recipe, one of my kids gotta be able t' cook it without turnin' it int' charcoal."

| Muse Interaction

"I dunno, jus' feels 'ike a mess Case." Was the best the turtle had to offer as he spoke to his boyfriend over the phone. Sitting out not to far from their home. Casey making his way home the plan was to meet up and head out but Raphael was no longer in the mood to bash skulls or tag up any walls. Of course Casey asked what was wrong seeing if he needed to make use of their code to instead talk and vent. "I ain't ya know tryin' not to tell ya jus' I don' know how to word it?" He offers but from the tone in Casey voice he knows they know that. Hell Casey gets it better than anyone how hard it can be word your emotions. Sure he could write his out Raph not so much he needed time to figure it out. And well he had a lot to figure out, he sort of had a fight with Splinter. Not sure if you can call it a fight much. Fights were physical or verbal, Raph didn't get much word in simply cutting it all of with 'hai sense' bowed head and dipped out the first chance he had. Grateful for Casey in this moment when they offer to stay in for the night instead. Made better when telling Raph they could just hang out at his place.

If it weren't for the fact he felt like he would be imposing or whatever he would be over at the Jones' home more than he already was. Which said a few things about the turtle as is. Apparently he was slightly polite and surprisingly he wasn't over near as much as it may seem. Raph was well aware just how welcomed he was by Casey and his family. Something he never fully got his mind wrapped around, but at the same time he kept visits to a decent balance so Splinter wouldn't be on his case to much. Raphael understands it comes from a concur and a worry in his own father maybe fear too. Not to mention he didn't want to over stay his welcome. Assuming there was a limit to such a thing. Raph just didn't want to risk what had come to be his safe haven in a sense. And he has a feeling Casey aware of that fact, but Casey's such a good boyfriend not seeming to mind the times Raph wants to simply hide out in it when it's needed. Though he dose still go through Casey bed room window most the time. Best way to get right to his boyfriend after all. But now? He was allowed to come to the front door.

It was dark out so he was pretty easily hidden thanks to the lack of street lights. It felt sort of weird as he knocked on the door. So normal and mundane but filled his shell with an overwhelming sensation. It's eased away when Casey's gap tooth smile greets him at the door and invite him in hard not to return the grin. Having gotten there not too long after Casey had it seemed they were just going to head right up to his room. But it seemed the moment Raph's presence wasn't only known by Casey, rhe turtle would be summoned by another in the house.

"Raphael, there yer are,"

On instinct he paused and turned around to peek his head over, letting them better see him. As he was just met with a smile. Did they know he would be popping around? " uhhey Aronarld, I'm here, need somethin' ?" The turtle was still learning how to walk around the eldest human he was different from April's Dad course dating. Casey may have a lot to do with the approach as well.

"Was wonderin' if I coul' show yer somethin' pretty quick."

Well now he was curious by the suggestion, tossing a look to Casey a moment. "I'll catch up to ya." He idly states before turning and making his way over to thier Dad. He really liked the guy even if they could be a tad corny but it was a good kind. They seemed bejist really beyond cool with Casey dating Raphael. And even about Raoh being a turtle, sure he was bound to have some moment, but honestly? It felt nice having another human who didn't scream at the sight of him. Raphael offered a smile to them then looked down to what they wanted to show him. Tilting his head to the side as he lookong over the aged pages unevenly stacked all banded up with a ribbon actting as a spine. Reading over the cover it was a cook book, a Jones cook book at that. He didn't guess cooking was a big thing for them? Seeing how Casey cooking skills weren't much to sneeze at.

"This has been in my family for years, my ma gave it t' me, an' her ma gave it t' her, an' their ma t' them, an' so on, for generations,"

Raphael offers a nod of his head as Aronald leafs through the pages of the cook book. But he dosent quite understand why they are showing him thier family cook book still?

"We all add our own recipes t'."

That's kind of nice he thinks having something that been passed down like so entrusted to each part of thier family added on even. Made clear as some pages were newer than others. Hand writing differed between the sections even. Think back on hiw Splinter would mention heirlooms his own family had long ago. Thier weapons were part of those. They didn't really have anything like this maybe that photo album but Mikey took over on that. Leo would get Splinters sword that was always known. And kind of what caused the not so much if a fighting they had.

He let's that thought move away as he shifts and moves to get comfortable where he's standing right now. Looking at the name tabs of the sections till its gets to Arnorld he sees Casey and Angel even have sections. Course Raphael smiles at the sight if Casey's name. He's half tempted to joke with thier Dad about how many different way can one person burn a meal.

"I've already taught Casey an' Angel my own, an' I'd like t' teach yer the same ones t', I trus' yer won't burn anythin',"

The offer to teach him some of his own recipes goes over Raphs head a second as he dosen't even hide the snicker that comes out of him when Aronald makes a similar snide at his kids expense. Deciding it might be fine to add in his own but he's cut off as they contuine to speak

"But, there's jus' one problem with the book, it's missin' someone,"

Oh? This must be why he asked for Raph? Though he don't know what the problem is or even how Raph can help? Maybe a receipe was missing? Taken? Oh family drama they have a section fully missing due to some in family fighting and Raph can sneak into wherever to get it!

Honestly though the answer he's given paired with the soft smile they wore was far from what he ever would have expected to here.

"It's missin' yer section."

"My what?" Raphs bewilderment can't go unnoticed needing a second before he's even aware they were holding the book out for him to take. Raph near forgetting how his arms and hands even function before he gingerly took the book carefully holding it in his hands. He dosent knkw what todo what to see even why would he get a section?

"Yer my son t' Raph, an' I wan' yer t' add t' our book, if yer wan' t' as well,"

He lifts his gaze up to them unsure what to say to that. How could he be thier son? He bearly knew Raph yet he considered them family? What did Raph even do for them to think of him in that way? He tries but try as he can he just can't recall a time Raph had done a thing for that to be earned.

"Who knows, if yer an' Casey ever get a few munchkins of yerself, they can add t' it t' - but uh, I'm sure that's a long way away."

And now he's sure he blushing at that. Kids?! Okay well technically they did treat thier pet turtle like thier joint son but. Shit! He wants the book to go through them then?! Ugh his head his spin his tongue is tied the fuck is he meant todo right now?!

This is too much right he can't accept this? Can he? For some reason though Arnold's voice seems to clam the anxious spin out his mind was going through in that second.

"Still, I'd like yer t' add to our family book, an' when yer get some more time, I'll teach yer my lasagne recipe, one of my kids gotta be able t' cook it without turnin' it int' charcoal."

His eyes just widen a moment he can't comprehend this at all. How can he just do this? Welcome Raphael how he dose? Claim them part of his family even. Raphael hadn't done anything worthy of that. He wants Raphael part of it even a book full of Jones and he felt Raph had a place with them? Raph didn't even have a place in his father's mind as being considered worth the Hamato family's values and ways. But he was worth this?

Raph lowers his head lookong down to the pages carefully tracing his thumb on the edge of the pages. His mind suddenly went blank he couldn't think he'll he had to remind himself to breath in that moment. He manges a smile, unsure of hiw he normally wears those in the first place. He feels something swelling in his chest but he can't name it. Casey Dad was just being nice right?

"I can' make time." He simply answers with, a slient yes i want to spend that time with you hidden in his words. "I never had anythin' as good as your lasagna after all so love ta know how to make it." He offers to try and hide the welling emotions building up in him as he carefully sets the book down. Not wanting to lose a single page on the binding.

As soon as it was safe though he steps over a second and put his arms around Aronald wishing to die the second his body moved but it was quick and fast as he gave them a a faint squeeze between his arms. Praying that they can't tell how much this just hit him he can't even explain it or fathom it. It's just a cook book but it was also not just about the book. Before he let go and moved back from Aronald, eyes kept low holding his self-control over himself in that moment. "Thanks." It soft near faint before he slowly steps away again. "I uh should get back to Case for now, but definitely gonna plan somethin' out to learn from you don't wanna just drop it on ya after all." Legs move please he begs as he steps away and retreats towards Casey's room. Nothing again Aronald he just needed the comforting presence Casey offered when he felt way too much for his own liking.

#muse| hamato rapheal #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ if you jump off a bridge its only cause i did first aflockoffeathers] #[ would it be too much to call you dad now? -aflockoffeathers] #[ 2012 verse] #muse interactions #ic reply #stayed qeued #(( raphs gonna have the lair smelling like lasagna for days XD)) #((i didnt elebrate much but basically splinter remarked on somethings he going to give to Leo and raph got a bit hurt because its seems lik #the rest of them were really being considered but especially him cause daddy issues uwu))

[youn9racha]

Poolside Fucking

Requested by: @hyununix

Pairing: bf!Hyunjin x gf!reader (afab)

Genre: smut

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, pool sex (dur), jealous!hyunjin, reader is scared of the pool (bitch, same—), degradation, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, getting caught? maybe?

Extra Notes: sorry for the lowkey rushed piece. like i said, i have been busy with uni and i can’t really seem to make a lot of long fics for now as my work has been draining me creatively. so this is the best i can do, if there’s anything you want me to fix, let me know. otherwise i hope you enjoyed it 🙏

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This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

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“Hyunjin, I can’t do this!”

You exclaimed at the man that placed his muscular arms onto your outer thigh, while his water dipped body was connected to your legs. You weren’t really fond of water for a multitude of reasons, it’s also the catalyst on why you don’t swim, regardless whether its as big as an ocean or as small as the swimming pool that Jeongin’s house has, that Hyunjin’s currently in. Hyunjin knew of your (ir)rational fear, however its seems as though he’s playing dumb and is pushing you over the edge, an action he has been keeping up for a while now.

You don’t know what triggered it but you suspect it had to do with the fact that you’ve been giving your guys’ friends attention more than you do to your own boyfriend. In your defense, you did knew Jeongin, his best friend, before you knew Hyunjin. If anything he was the one who introduced you both to each other. However, you giving as much attention to his other friends could be an indicator on the reason why Hyunjin’s been giving you cold looks and response.

At first, it was him leaving your bed without the morning cuddles you both would usually have. Hyunjin hasn’t been wrapping his arm around you, preventing you to leave by him putting his body over you, every time you both wake up. Even in days where you two are supposed to be going to work, you would at least look at each other and wish each other a good morning. While he still does wish you a good morning, and does kiss your forehead before leaving, he was still dismissive and doesn’t seem like he wants to speak to you.

It kind of hurt but you eventually brushed it off as Hyunjin never really stopped giving you affection, you just assumed that he’s in a rush or something in that sort.

But that doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed how as the day goes by, the more passive aggressive he gets. You’ve confronted him about this, however he either brushes it off or tells you nothing of the sorts. Things started to calm down until this moment.

There you sat, high up in Hyunjin’s vision, in a hoodie—owned by Hyunjin of course—and bikini bottoms, palms were pressed into the concrete behind you in fear as Hyunjin looks up to you with an innocent—more like an evil—look. His hair half wet-half dried was pushed back to insure his intention, but even if his eyes were covered, you can still sense the villainy from him by just looking at his half smile that didn't shy away his perfect teeth.

”C’mon, baby,“ Hyunjin cooed, placing his head into your thigh with a pout in his face, “I’ll hold onto you.”

You looked down at him with confusion, “Hyunjin, I do not like the water, and you know that.”

”I know, I said I’ll hold you,” he lifted his head and reverted back to his old position.

You rolled your eyes and tried to push Hyunjin’s arm, “I’m going inside—“ you said, which made Hyunjin lift himself up and hold onto your jaw, “and what? go and hang with my friends, instead of me?” He whispered as he looked at you with a dark expression in his face, your eyes were popped out of its sockets from his sudden action. He lifted himself using his tiptoes, while his other hand that wasn’t occupied in your jaw sat on top of your thigh, holding with a slight tight grip.

You couldn’t help but swallow your own saliva as Hyunjin‘s angered yet arousing expression set fear and lust in you. “You’ve been a whore lately, I hope you knew that,” Hyunjin said, almost in full, spite which made you shake as his face got closer to you, “your eyes always on Jeongin’s or Seungmins’s hands, your body being pressed against Felix whenever you cook, you admiring Changbin’s arms, what about you staring at Minho’s thighs? Or you swooning over Chan’s body?” His teeth gritted the more he mentioned his friends’ names, you couldn’t help but clench the air the more he talks about them.

And Hyunjin noticed the action, which made him chuckle darkly, “oh, so you enjoy it? you enjoy when I mention other men other myself, huh?” he taunted, which made you bite your bottom lips while your eyes pleaded at him. Hyunjin’s hand that gripped your thigh were raising upwards to your body slowly, “I should have know that you’re a slut, its no wonder you haven’t been giving me attention, you like it when the other boys look at you like you’re a prey,” Hyunjin’s degradation were getting fierce, just like his action as he finally reached to your core where he was sure he sensed wetness and he knew it wasn’t from the pool.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, as his lips got closer to your lips, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, so hard that the boys are gonna come out and see you over here cumming over my cock,” his hand on your jaw lowered to your throat, making you gasp, “and we’re doing it right here, I want them to see how much of a slut you are, got it?” His voice were hushed but his last few words were slightly louder.

You could only nod, desparate to his mouth being on you already. He hasn’t fucked you yet and you’re already dumb for him. You were well prepared for him.

~~~

The thought of the boys coming out to see you after hearing you making loud noises of despair, thinking you’re in pain or accidentally fell onto the pool—as they knew about your lack of swimming skills—, in the verge of drowning, only to see Hyunjin‘s head placed between your naked legs, head going up and down as his tongue plays around your heat and then giving attention to your clit was something that you prayed to be a reality.

Which ultimately became a reality as Chan panickingly went out of the house to check up on you and Hyunjin, as he heard a bunch of groaning noises coming from you.

“Hey, guys, is everything ok—“ Chan’s voice was immediately shut as he saw the scenery of Hyunjin spreading your legs and doing exactly what you’ve been imagining. His tongue was in you, licking you in and out of you, as it pleasured you, making shake and moan loudly. Changbin and Jeongin couldn’t help but went to check up on Chan and see why was Chan frozen in his place, only to later understand why.

And while you were too busy being pleasured by Hyunjin, he could only look up to the boys. His tongue was still playing its game pleasuring you, but his smirk only grew as he looked at the awe-struck boys with a mocking expression that was read in his eyes, putting them on their place and scoffing at them, as they could only sit and watch the show.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #skz dark hours #hwang hyunjin hard thoughts #hwang hyunjin hard hours

[adoringhaikyuu]

they reject you and regret it afterwards

CHARACTERS: kuroo + iwaizumi + osamu + (gn!reader)

REQUEST: pspspsps i hope its okay if i drop my request here since i saw that yours are open :D can you maybe do how kuroo, iwaizumi and osamu rejects reader confession ( they are best friend ) because they have feelings for another person but later they regret it when they moved on? i love it when the boys realize it later how much the reader means to them but y/n took the chance to move on and have a sexy glow up ✋😩 yessss i wanna see them suffer at the end >:) • by anonymous

WARNINGS: dumb boys hurting your feelings and you hurting them right back :/

NOTES: i feel like i’m not too good at writing angst lol but i made these blurbs instead of hcs! 

kuroo let you down easy, not wanting to hurt your feelings––to be honest he did feel something for you, but he wasn’t sure if it was what you wanted it to be. he felt more certain of the feelings he had for someone else. someone you slowly watched him admire from afar until he worked up the courage to start joking with them, then offering to buy them lunch and so on. 

you still remember the awkward smile he gave you when you confessed to him, the smile that absolutely broke you because it showed you how much he didn’t want you the way you wanted him. not enough to give up his efforts with someone else. “i’m flattered y/n, but i’m sorry i just––you know i have a date this week...” 

you’d looked down immediately, unable to look him in the eyes longer and swallowed back the lump in your throat that was aching to come up in a sob. “yeah yeah, i’m sorry i just––let’s forget this ever happened, yeah?”

you gave him your most convincing smile and he agreed, wanting everything to be normal between the two of you.

but it wasn’t until he’d gone on a few dates with them to realize that it didn’t feel right. it didn’t feel familiar, the way he thought it would. it wasn’t the same comfort he felt in your presence. when they texted him, he didn’t feel the same burst of happiness he felt when you messaged him. he tried to wait it out, to see if things would change, but they didn’t. they just weren’t you.

it’d been a few weeks since you’d confessed and gotten rejected, but you decided to move on instead of dwelling on his unrequited feelings––it wouldn’t do you any good to wallow and weep over your best friend. you wanted him to be happy, and you deserved to be too. so you knocked yourself out of that sad headspace and changed yourself up a bit. you started to value yourself better than you did before, you dressed the way you wanted to but were always afraid of doing and everything about you just brightened up. and other people noticed as well. 

kuroo had kind of been too preoccupied to notice, if he was being honest. he didn’t realize what he had in front of him until he practically sprinted over to your place to surprise you and be honest about his feelings. you opened the door, already dressed up and kuroo took a step back, eyes widening as they took you in. did you always look this breathtaking?

“wow...”

you smiled gratefully, straightening out your clothes. “thanks, that’s what i was going for.” you walked back into your apartment to get your shoes, “not that i mind but what are you doing here?” 

he blinked out of his trance and stepped in, closing the door behind him. “oh i just––i brought us some food.” he raised the bag he was holding even though you weren’t facing him. “i was kinda hoping we could spend some time together...” he scratched the back of his head, “maybe talk about a few things...” he trailed off when something clicked in his head as he watched you slip your shoes on. “wait why are you all dressed up?” 

you turned and looked at him apologetically, “oh...i’m sorry kuroo,” you paused, “i actually have somewhere to be. can i take a raincheck?”

he opened his mouth for a few seconds as he watched you, but no sound came out. “oh um...well could i just––wait here? until you get back?” 

you looked to the side awkwardly bringing one hand up to hold your other arm. “it’s just that...i might not be alone when i come back.”

as soon as you uttered those words, he could feel his heartbeat falter in his chest, a faint ringing noise in his ears. 

“...a date?” 

you nodded with a smile and though it’s selfish, he felt a part of him dim on the inside when he noticed how excited you were. he didn’t really have a right to stop you now did he, not when you chose his happiness over your own what felt like way long ago. so he wouldn’t.

he nodded as well, “oh” he forced a smile onto his face and stepped back towards the door, “that’s exciting. i’m happy for you, really.” he turned the door knob, “i’ll catch up with you some other time then, yeah? you’ll tell me how it went.” he looked at you one last time, his gaze wavering under the undeterred happiness radiating from you.

when he finally stepped out and closed your door, all the emotions hit him at once. he didn’t know what hurt the most, the fact that he was too late, or the fact that you didn’t stop him, didn’t notice the pleading look in his eyes as he silently begged you to stay with him. 

iwaizumi froze when you told him how you felt. it was the smallest reaction you’d ever seen from him before, the calmest––yet it did anything but soothe you. you could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty of what to say next in the way his mouth opened but produced no sound. you already knew what he was going to say.

he will admit, seeing the tears in your eyes that you barely managed to blink back when he rejected you did strike a blow to his heart. but he just couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear, he wouldn’t lie to you. “i––i’m sorry y/n i just...don’t feel the same.” 

his eyes were apologetic, almost pitiful as he watched you take a step back, “right, right. that’s––that’s okay.” you tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. “i just didn’t want to keep it to myself, that’s all. i’m sure i’ll get over it soon.” he nodded but wasn’t sure what else to say. so he didn’t say anything. 

things were a little awkward for a couple weeks between the two of you, but you didn’t want to lose your friendship, so you eventually moved on. 

it wasn’t until one day you were at the café you always went to together that you noticed him taking longer than usual to bring back your drinks. you looked over to see him chatting with the barista, both of them with nervous smiles on their faces. he came back a few minutes later with a note in his pocket that you assumed was the barista’s number and a blush on his cheeks. he placed your drink in front of you, eyes looking down, and didn’t mention anything, probably since he didn’t want to rub it in, so you didn’t bring it up either. 

but you did wonder if they were the reason he didn’t feel the same for you––you wondered if they weren’t in the picture, if he would have fallen for you instead. 

he didn’t want to hide anything from you, so he told you when he had a date coming up. you wished him luck and told him you hoped he’d have a good time and that was that. 

they ended up dating but you didn’t mind. he seemed happy and you truly did want the best for him. you started focusing on yourself and eventually found a boyfriend, one who appreciated you and loved you and you couldn’t ask for more. 

iwaizumi was happy for you as well, but he couldn’t ignore this piercing feeling he felt when he first heard the news, then when he would see you two together, on your double dates, at parties, anywhere, really. something just ticked him off. he knew he didn’t have a right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t make sense of it. he couldn’t even figure out what it meant. 

only once he realized the ache he felt in his chest when you smiled at your boyfriend the way you used to smile at him, the pull at his heart when you kissed his cheek, completely enamored. only then did he realize that he was jealous, that he’d made a mistake, that he’d lost the one chance he had of being with his soulmate. 

osamu had just gotten his new restaurant, he was achieving his goals, living his life without fear, and you took inspiration from that. you decided to be upfront about your brewing feelings and ask him out just as he put the finishing touches in the establishment.

he was wiping down the counter as you sat at the bar, swallowing your nerves as you watched him. “hey samu?”

he hummed and glanced up at you for a second before looking back to what he was doing. 

you took a deep breath, “would you maybe...want to go out to eat tomorrow?” 

he didn’t look up, but his brows furrowed, “yeah? why are you even asking?” 

you paused, of course he wouldn’t realize what you meant, you guys ate together all the time. you blinked a few times before clearing your throat, “um i just––i meant as a...date?” 

this time, he paused, well more like froze. he kept his eyes on the counter, his face blank, but you could tell he was internally processing everything. did he hear you right? “what?” 

you considered taking it back, but you had a feeling he did hear you, he just wasn’t sure how to respond. “um...i asked if you wanna go on a date? with me...”

he nodded and straightened up, “right.” he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head, finally looking at you and the look in his eyes was enough to make your wavering confidence crumble. “i sort of have my eye on someone else right now...” you nodded, trying not to let the tears form in your eyes. he went on, “my new neighbor needed to borrow something and we got to talking...was thinking of asking them out, actually.” that was the final twist of the knife. 

“oh...” your voice was small ”thats––that’s great!” you smiled but kept your eyes cast down, “forget what i asked i just...wanted to see what you’d say haha,” you tried to play it off as a joke, “i got you!” 

he stared at you silently for a few seconds, clearly contemplating whether or not he believed you, but in the end, he let it go. 

you never brought up that night ever again, but you thought about it constantly. it haunted you, in a way. of course the one time you’re finally able to speak up about your feelings, it backfired. 

you were in a very upsetting and self deprecating headspace for a while, wondering if this was your sign to never make the first move, if you were the problem. it took you a little while to snap out of it, but once you did, you realized your worth and stopped looking at the world through a grey lens––you felt like you’d bloomed as a person. 

things didn’t go very far with osamu and his neighbor, but you didn’t take that as an opportunity to try again with him, you didn’t want to wait around for him, even though you thought about it for a second at first––you learned to respect yourself more. 

meanwhile, your best friend was beside himself, going through the process of reflection and realization. it’s not that he was desperate after a failed relationship, it’s more so that he suddenly realized he had someone perfect right by him all these years––it only made sense. but he was too stupid to realize that, to realize that he cared about you as more than a friend. he had foolishly mistaken his feelings for you as caring for a friend––you two had been inseparable since you were kids, he couldn’t even notice when his feelings shifted from caring for a friend to loving his best friend. 

he decided to talk to you about it, it’d only been a few months since you’d joked? about going on a date with him, but part of him felt confident that you might have meant it for real. he was sure you’d be open to it still. he called you during his break at work and found himself smiling as soon as he heard your voice. 

“hey samu what’s up?” 

he started to answer, but he trailed off when he heard you laughing at an unfamiliar voice in the background. “hey...just wanted to talk. what are you uh up to?” 

he heard you shush whoever was with you. “nothing much.” he heard you sit down.” i can’t stay for long but what did you want to talk about? i’m all ears.”

he was going to brush it off, maybe it was just a friend, but when he heard a faint ‘babe’ and what sounded like a small kiss on the other end, that was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. “yeah i just...i’ll actually call you back later, okay?”

you paused on the other end, most likely confused, but you let him go nonetheless. 

osamu sat there in his office at the back of his restaurant, surrounded by silence, complete disbelief and an indescribable ache running through his body. was he really too late? 

#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu blurbs #haikyuu drabbles #kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo angst #kuroo blurb #kuroo drabble #iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi blurb #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi drabble #osamu #osamu x reader #osamu angst #osamu blurb #osamu drabble

[sugarbooger513]

Mine (Stepbrother!ChosoxFem!Reader)

This is my collaboration piece for @severelytalentless Are You Afraid of the Dark collab! I had a lot of fun writing this... work. I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you to my very amazing friends who helped me out during this piece, especially my wifey @kentosovertime and my bestie @roughwithfluff. It wouldn't have ended up as well written as it did without the help.

Warnings: stepcest, possessive nature, unprotected sex (wrap your willies), oral (fem receiving), spit, Choso slaps reader in the face like once, he also slaps in another place, daddy kink, dom Choso, Choso is very petty, mentions of cheating ex, mentions of alcohol and nicotine consumption, degradation, praise, slight breeding kink if you squint

"Don't bother calling me anymore! I see what's more important to you.." You hang up your cell phone and throw it across the room. Your bed feels colder than it usually does, but you lay on it anyways, allowing your tears to flow onto your pillow.

Your boyfriend, now ex, of two years had called you with a plea, begging for your forgiveness. How could you forgive him, though? When you heard about your best friend sleeping with him, you couldn't get the image out of your head. You knew she thought he was attractive, but there was never a worry in your mind that either of them would take it anywhere.

You sit up, suddenly realizing that he would be on his way home from work in an hour, maybe two. You had to leave before he got home. It wasn't like you feared he would hurt you for leaving him, but he would certainly try to guilt you into staying with him.

Your heart rate increases when you realize that you have no idea where you can go. He knows all of your family, and is pretty loved by all of them. Your stepmom even has the habit of calling him her son. 'Her son...'

You rush to grab your phone, dialing the all too familiar number. If there's one person in your family you can call, it's the one he's scared of.

"Y/N," your step brother lets out a long yawn after answering, "what's up?" "B-bubs.." You can hear him drop something on his end. "Honey, why are you crying?" "He.. he cheated on me.. with her.. you were right.."

Choso bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly enraged at the thought. He never liked that guy. When they first met, Choso punched him in the jaw for being an asshole. You were mad at him at the time, but eventually understood why he did it. Since then, your ex was too scared to look Choso in the eyes.

Still, he now finds himself smiling.

"I'm so sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?" Your sniffle makes him clench his fist. "He's going.. to be home s-soon." "Drive over here. I'll set up the guest-" "C-can you get me..? I don't want him tracking my car.."

Your pitiful voice goes straight to his crotch. Even though no one else is at his home, he finds himself trying to conceal his half hard cock with the kitchen counter.

"Of course, honey. Pack a bag. I'll be there in twenty." "I-I love you, Choso.. thank you." He has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. "I love you too, honey."

When he hangs up, he groans loudly and places his head on the cool marble. "Okay," he talks to himself aloud, "just.. keep yourself in control. You got this, Choso. She's your step sister, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, grabbing his keys.

Still, he can't deny the things you do to him. It makes him feel terrible, but you're so damn tempting. He always figured that your hugs would last a little too long, your eyes scanned him a little too much, your hands lingered on him a little too suggestively.

He knew better, though. Your teenage years were spent on tons of dates with guys who were the complete opposite of your stepbrother. He would sit in his bedroom, no doubt on a video game, while he listened to guy after guy go in and out of your bedroom. It wasn't like you were a whore.

Those guys just eventually showed their true colors.

He knows that when you love, you love with your entire heart. That's why he was there for you through every heartbreak. He would hold you for hours, dry your tears with his own shirts, make you your favorite snacks, take you on long walks so you weren't cooped in the house all day.

Why? Well, because in his mind you already belonged to him.

You pace your living room, already holding your overnight bag in your hand. Of course, you'll probably stay with Choso more than one night, unless your dad tells you to stay with him and your stepmom instead.

Who are you kidding? If Choso offers to let you stay longer, you would much rather stay there.

Your front door opens, and you jump in fear that your ex came back early. "Shhh, honey it's me." "C-Cho.." Choso walks across the room in quick strides to pull you into his strong embrace.

His hands gently cradle you against his body. "He doesn't deserve your tears Y/N. Don't give him the satisfaction." "Y-you tell me that after every breakup, Choso.." "I know. That's because none of them deserve your kindness."

You close your eyes and feel yourself relax in his strong arms. He's never let you down. Choso has been the only guy in your life to prove he would always be there for you. You truly trust him with your life.

That being said, you can't ignore the feelings that have formed over the years for your stepbrother.

Your fingers grip his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer to you. He sighs softly and buries his face in your hair. "Is there anything I can do for you, Y/N?" "Just... don't leave me. Please?"

His heart pounds in his chest at your feeble plea. His throat seems to dry, so he can't manage to speak. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he clears his throat.

"You know I won't, Y/N. I never have." "And never will?" His large hands squeeze your body a bit harshly, but your breath only increases at the feeling.

"I never will. Now, why don't we get you loaded into the car and get you home?" You finally pull away, blinking your still teary eyes at him so innocently. "Home..?"

The look on your face has his body on fire. You look so damn innocent, just like an angel. They're still red and puffy from your crying, but that only has him straining in his pants.

The things he would give to take the innocence from your face this second..

"Of course. My home is yours for as long as you need." He jingles his keys in an attempt for you to hurry and follow.

"What.. what about as long as I want..?"

That sentence has him blushing furiously. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. You're family and I love you, so my home is yours. We should go though. I don't want to-" His sentence is cut short when you wrap your small arms around his frame.

"Cho.. you're the only person in my life that cares this much.." "Don't say that, princess. You know that isn't true." His large hands are so gentle as they rub your back comfortingly. The small action has your heart pounding.

It also has your core burning for more.

"I-I want to stay with you." "Princess, then why are we still here?" There's a hint of laughter in his teasing tone. "I mean.. stay with you." You bury your face in his broad chest, hoping desperately that he gets the hint.

And oh boy does he ever. He can't help the small groan that escapes his throat at the mere thought.

"Y/N.. you don't mean that." You finally look up, shocked at the tint of rosiness on his usually pale cheeks.

"I-I do mean it.. You're the only guy who has ever-" "I'm family." "Not blood. D-Don't act like you don't feel the same Choso!" His eyes widen, and your accusation has him backing away from you, causing your hope to falter. Had you been mistaken this entire time? Had the stares and lingering touches really just been his own way of showing platonic affection.

"Choso.. I-" "Am I truly that obvious, Y/N?" You blink once, twice before giggling softly. "Y-yeah.. have I not been?" "No. Your.. attention always seemed to be on others. I just assumed.. you saw me as your big brother." You shake your head, walking slowly to stand directly in front of him again.

You've always thought his eyes were gorgeous, a slight grey tint over the almost golden color, they truly are their own unique shade, but right now they seem even brighter.

"I.. I was scared. People would.. call us freaks if anything came of any attraction to each other. I mean.. we've known forever that we weren't related, but our parents have been married-" "Going on ten years now. Even dated for five years before that. Trust me," his hand reaches to touch your cheek gently, as if he's afraid he could break you, "I've been bouncing the pros and cons in my head for so many fucking years."

Your cheek fits so easily in his palm, as if it was made to be there. "So.. who gives a damn about the cons anymore?" His eyes darken at your words, suddenly not focused on your gaze, but your lips. "I don't think I do, Princess." He suddenly turns the two of you, pressing your body into the wall that was originally behind him.

His lips hover centimeters over yours, making you whimper pathetically. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you, Y/N." His lips turn at the corners, making the already handsome guy seem even more so. Your hands reach out, gripping the loose t-shirt he's wearing tightly. "I-I need you, Cho. P-please?"

"Well, why don't we take this little.. fiasco to my place?" "No." He tilts his head in confusion as you smirk. "Fuck me on his bed.. onii-chan."

His lips are on yours the instant that word leaves your mouth. Despite the fact you're almost certain that Choso doesn't know what lip balm is, his lips are so plush and soft. It catches you off guard, causing you to moan softly in his mouth.

He isn't shy about exploring your body either. His hands grab every bit of plushness they can. Your hips, thighs, ass, until he finally reaches your breasts. His hands squeeze them harshly, not caring about any actual pain he could bring. You gasp in the kiss, which allows his tongue to finally invade your mouth, easily taking over as the dominant one.

He tastes faintly of cheap wine and cigarettes, but that doesn't shock you. You've spent multiple nights in his room smoking and drinking after rough breakups.

You have to smack at his shoulder a few times before he pulls away, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the two of you. He lets out a deep growl before grabbing your arm to yank you upstairs.

He kicks the bedroom door open, not caring about possibly busting the damn thing. "I have waited for so fucking long," he shoves you onto the queen sized bed that you once shared with your ex, "to have you all to myself. Now that I have you..." He pulls the shirt over his head, causing your eyes to shamelessly wander over his toned body. He catches your gaze, causing him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation. "Oh I am never letting you out of my grasp now, little one."

You sit up and, without a second thought, throw your shirt off and into the floor. "A bit possessive, are we?" He chuckles a bit darkly. "I don't see you complaining. Besides," he rips your pants off in one fluid motion, purring at the dark spot already staining your panties, "it seems you know who you belong to." His head is almost instantly between your legs, his hands shoving your thighs open effortlessly.

He licks a long stripe up your covered slit, causing you to mewl. "Go ahead, princess, tell me exactly who owns you." This time he places a small kiss just over your clit. "F-fuck, you!" "Hmmm," his hand comes down to smack your pussy with an unnecessary amount of force. "Not good enough. Try again." He lands another smack, this one making tears prick your eyes.

"W-what do y-you want-" you cry out as he lands two more smacks on you. The pain is startling at first, but it quickly has you moaning in pleasure. "How about that fun little nickname you've given so many men that have entered your bedroom?" You squeak, making him chuckle. "Oh come on, there's no way you thought I never heard you. Always had the fucking nerve," another smack, this one even harder, "to cry out for other men while I was in my bedroom dreaming of making those pretty eyes cry in my bed. Come on, call me that sweet little name and I'll fuck you better than any of those assholes could have."

The last smack has you screaming, and you can't seem to care that any of your neighbors could hear. "D-Daddy! Y-You own me! I-it's always been you, I swear daddy! P-Please fuck me, I-I need it!"

He groans loudly before ripping your panties from your body. "I'll have to remember that you beg beautifully once I get you home." Two of his fingers spread you apart, and he smirks at the puddle of essence already pooling on the bed. "So fucking wet for me, aren't you?" He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure makes you try and clamp your thighs closed, but one of his hands shoves it back down. His eyes look up at you as he continues to lap at your drooling pussy. The stare speaks every word he can't at the moment.

This is for his pleasure, not yours, and you're meant to lay back and take what he's giving you.

Your fingers tangle in his raven hair, and the slight pain has him growling against you. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, and he shoves two fingers into you without any warning.

You knew beforehand that Choso had slept with at least a few women, so he's not inexperienced, but you never knew that he was this experienced. His long fingers curl into you, pushing against the spot that has you screaming his name to the heavens. He has to rut against your mattress in a desperate attempt to get some sort of relief.

"D-Daddy.. I-I'm g-gonna cum.." He could already tell. Your walls sucked his fingers in as soon as they entered you, so he knew you wouldn't last much longer. "Hmmm," his sharp teeth nip your clit gently, but it still makes you squeak, "I sure hope you aren't telling daddy what you're going to do.. That would be awfully rude of you, little one."

The sheer dominance and control radiating from him has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Since when was your sweet step brother so demanding? "C-can I please cum, daddy? I-It feels t-too good.." You feel that damn smirk against your clit. "Of course, baby. Just scream my name when you do it, okay?"

He really must not like you talking much, because he doesn't let you answer him before he starts ruthlessly pounding his fingers into your cunt. Your entire body arches from the bed as you cry out for him. It takes one last flick of his tongue on your swollen bud to have you writing in the bed, coming completely undone before he even pulled his pants off.

He slows down, but doesn't completely stop, allowing you to ride out your high as he uses his tongue to lap up every drop of sweetness pouring from you. "Good girl, I've got you sweetheart. Are you feeling up for more, or do you need to stop until we go home?"

He sits up, eyeballing your form as he licks his lips clean, ignoring the fact he's dripping your own cum from his chin onto you.

You giggle, still a bit spaced out from the intense orgasm. "W-want you.. inside me, please daddy?" He chuckles softly before reaching to finally unhook your bra and fling it to the side. "Of course baby. Where are your condoms?" "D-Don't have any. I'm on.. the pill." His cheeks flush a bit, but he doesn't question anything else.

He makes quick work of his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxers. The outline of his cock alone has you snapping back to reality. When he pulls the boxers down, you outwardly moan when it slaps back against his abdomen. He's much bigger than any guy you've had before. Also, it's so.. pretty.

The shaft is a lot like the rest of his skin, a very pale color that almost shines if sunlight hits it. The head is a soft pink, very reminiscent of the blushes he always seemed to get if you teased him too much, with droplets of precum around it. A large vein runs from the underside of it, and you can see it actually throb the more he stares at you.

"See something you like, love?" You whimper at the very affectionate nickname. "I-is it going to fit? I mean.. I've never.." "Don't worry, little one," he gently lays you back, "daddy will get it to fit. If it hurts too much, just let me know. Okay?" he grabs one of your exes' pillows, placing it gently under your lower back. "O-okay, daddy. I trust you."

His smile warms your heart. "That's my good girl. Spread your legs for me." You nod, following his instructions immediately. His hand reaches between the two of you, grabbing his cock and gently rubbing the tip around your entrance. "You sure you want this, Y/N? I don't want you to feel forced." You whimper, nodding instantly. "P-please fuck me, Choso.. I've waited so long.." You spread your legs more, effortlessly enticing him.

When his tip enters you, you're already a moaning mess. It just feels too good. He watches your expressions intently as he slowly pushes into you, searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's about halfway in, he stops completely.

"How you doin' baby? Any pain?" He leans down to give you a gentle kiss. "G-good. I-it kinda burns, but nothing bad, I promise." He smiles against your mouth and starts to push in again. "We're almost there, little one. Just- fuuuuck." He finally bottoms out, the stretch of it making you whimper loudly and wiggle around. He pants on your face, the scent of you still heavy on his breath.

"S-so fucking tight.. can't believe this is happening..”

He chuckles softly, giving a tentative thrust into your heat. You bite down on your lip, finding both pain and pleasure in the burn that courses through your body. "D-daddy-" He cuts off the rest of your sentence by leaning back onto his knees and grabbing the back of both of your thighs. He manhandles you easily into what you can only assume is a mating press.

"So easy to throw around, aren't you? My pretty baby.." He pulls out of you until only his tip is still inside before slamming back in, causing you to see stars. "You take cock like a pro, baby. I wasn't sure a cute little thing like you could handle it." You tighten around him at his foul language, causing him to growl. "I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby. I'll make sure I'm the only one who can make you scream. You want that, baby? Want daddy to fuck the imprint of his cock into your slutty little hole?"

You throw your head back and cry out for him. "P-please! Make me your little toy, daddy. W-want you to own me.. prove who I belong to, please?" You know you've done it now from the way he snarls at you. However, the sudden ringing of your phone makes both of you freeze. He leans back up to wrap your thighs around his torso.

He's the first to reach to the floor and grab it, still buried deep inside of you. "Oh, lookie there.. a video call. Hello?" Did he-

"Choso? Where is Y/N? Why do you have her phone?" Your ex's voice sounds from the speaker, making your eyes shoot open. You meet Choso's eyes, mouthing the words 'hang up' over and over.

"What does it matter? She dumped you and called me." "Of course she did. Dude, let me talk to her." Choso chuckles darkly, finally thrusting into you, making you squeak loudly despite your best effort to stay quiet.

"What was that?" "Y/N. She's currently.. held up. Or.. down, rather." He smirks at his own joke, reaching down his free hand to start circling your clit with his middle finger. The feeling has you tightening your thighs around his waist.

"You... what?" "Are you deaf and stupid? I said she's busy, aren't you little one?" He smirks down at your form, panting and shaking your head in a desperate, silent plea. This can not be how everyone finds out about this. No way in hell.

Choso's mocking pout makes your face flare up. "She seems a little shy. Let me show you instead." "N-no! Choso I-!" The choking gasp from the phone call shuts you up. Choso's eyes show no mercy as he looks at you almost amused. "That isn't what you should be calling me, is it?"

You look directly at the camera on the back of your phone, your face a deep scarlet color. Before you can correct yourself, the hand that was idly playing with your clit launches up, smacking your cheek with enough force to have your eyes switch to his. He smirks and shoves his index and middle fingers in your mouth without warning, making the ring he wears clack a bit painfully into your teeth.

"Pretty little whore just needs to learn some manners. Don't you, love?" He gets a wicked grin seeing how you blabber around his digits, trying so desperately to behave and give him an answer. "Sorry, princess, I didn't quite hear you. Try again for daddy." He shoves his fingers farther down your throat, causing you to gag and cough. Spit pours out of your kiss bruised lips, making Choso moan above you.

Your teary eyes make him pull his fingers out, wiping the spit across your face. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't speak? Silly little girl. Now, what should you be calling me?" "D-Daddy! I'm s-so sorry.." He groans, running his thumb down your bottom lip. He gently pries your mouth open before leaning over you, letting spit fall from his tongue into your waiting mouth. He purrs as you swallow it so obediently. "I know you are. You're such a good girl for me. Oh, he hung up." Choso chuckles softly and tosses your phone back to the floor.

"I believe that I have some work to finish, right baby?" Both of his hands grab your hips, surely leaving bruises, before he starts to mercilessly ram into your sopping cunt. Your throat is still somewhat raw from his fingers being in it not two minutes ago, but he's determined to pull every sound he can from you.

He slides one hand down, harshly pinching and rolling your swollen clit between two fingers. Your cries only encourage his ruthless actions.

"D-daddy I-I.. something.. something doesn't-" Your pleas are cut off when the hand on your hip actually lifts you off the bed, giving him enough access for the tip of his cock to batter into your cervix.

If you aren't sore tomorrow, he hasn't done his job.

Sweat drips down his forehead and chest as he growls deeply. "There we go baby. T-that's the spot. Cum for daddy, want you screaming until my name is the only t-thing you know." His hand starts slapping your exposed clit again, finally throwing you over the edge. When the coil in your abdomen snaps, you scream his name, raw throat be damned.

Choso hisses as you tighten around his cock, spraying his lower abdomen in your essence. "Sh-shit I-" His sentence trails off when he thrusts into you one more time, letting out an animalistic snarl as his own climax washes over him.

You can feel his cock throb as he unloads his seed deep inside you. The feeling makes you tremble and mewl. There's so much of it that it still manages to spill out, staining the bed sheets under you.

He's still panting pretty heavily when he slides out of you, careful in case you're still too sensitive. When you squeak, he reaches up to cup your cheek. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." You nuzzle into his hand, placing a small kiss in the palm. "Th-thank you, daddy. I-I'm so tired." When your eyes start to flutter shut, he carefully stands from the bed, shamelessly admiring your disheveled state. "I'm sure you are. Let me get us cleaned up. Then I'll take you home, okay?"

Your small nod is plenty of an answer, so he rushes to the bathroom to search for a rag. He takes only a few seconds to wipe himself clean before rushing back to your side. You wince slightly at the feeling of the cloth wiping you down. "Shhhh, daddy's got you baby. I'll be done in just a second." He smiles to himself as you visibly relax into his touch, allowing him to finish.

"You know," he chuckles as he helps you pull your clothes back on, "your dad is going to try and kill me." "Your mom is going to call me every name in the book." He nods in agreement, finally starting to dress himself.

"So.. should we stay quiet? I imagine shit-for-brain isn't going to, but we can play that off as him being an idiot." You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of either decision.

There's no doubt in your mind, you want to be with Choso. It's clear he's willing to do whatever you want, but from the look in his eyes, the answer is obvious.

"I'm not hiding it." He blinks at you in shock. "B-baby.. your repu-" You stand up, despite your legs screaming in pain. He's quick to rush over and pull you into his chest. "I don't care.. I love you, and I don't want to hide it anymore." You squeak loudly when he picks you up bridal style, holding you easily with one arm.

The kiss he gives you is soft and loving, full of nothing but his affection for you. "I love you too, Y/N. I want nothing more than to tell the world that."

He carries you downstairs to grab your overnight bag, and then out to put you in his car. He really refuses to let you do anything, since he even leans inside to buckle you up. Your protests have him laughing. "When you're with me," he kisses your lips after getting into the driver's seat, "you're the spoiled princess. Got it?"

The drive to his house is quiet. He holds your hand the entire time, stroking along it with his thumb, occasionally bringing it to his mouth and kissing each knuckle.

"Oh.. oh shit." "What?" You open your eyes from almost falling asleep.

Your blood freezes when you see what he's looking at. Your dad's car is already parked in his driveway.

Tags: @katgalle, @savonline

#dark content #stepcest tw #choso #choso jjk #jjk choso #stepbrother choso #jjk #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut #choso x fem reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso brainrot #choso supremacy

[sweetbunnykook]

Devotion (M)

Word Count: 5,885 // angst (toxic relationship, friends to lovers, yandere behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of physical harm, mention of neglect), smut (rough sex/slight dub-con, fingering, omorashi, asphyxiation, forced creampie), no fluff

Childhood friend!Taehyung X Childhood friend!Reader

Summary: You and Taehyung were inseparable once. When you come back to your hometown after three years, fate pulls you back to him. And this time, Taehyung won’t ever keep his eyes off of you. 

Music: X

Winter darkness came early this season. It’s only a few minutes past five and the sky had darkened and streetlights casted a deep orange hue over semi-empty cobblestone paths. The streets are almost silent except for the faint piano music wafting out into the cool air from restaurants and cafes lining the streets. You keep your fists deep in your coat pockets but the numbness persists. You never thought your hometown would look the same after running away at age twenty with nothing but clothes and a roll of cash – his cash – in your bag. Now, at twenty-three, you wondered if you made the right choice, if the yearning that slept deep in your marrows was the reason why you’re glued to the ground in front of the café you had your first kiss in.

You never thought you’d see Taehyung again – assuming he left not long after you did – but here he is, sitting near the bar with his long fingers grazing over the rim of his whiskey glass. He chuckles at something the bartender says, takes a drag from his cigarette, but his eyes are sad and his smile fleeting. His hair grew longer – past the tip of his ears – and he looks overall larger than life. He’s wearing the coat you bought him for his birthday and you’re wearing the knitted plaid scarf you stole from his closet before leaving. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. It doesn’t smell like his warm cigarettes and aftershave and it takes all your might to not walk in and put your arms around from behind like you used to do when he comes back from work.

Your heart wants him. It craves him. It has spent many nights in your chest begging you to call him and apologize to your tormentor who kisses you while keeping a noose wrapped around your throat. Your Taehyung, your lover, your captor who gave you everything including his own fears.

He doesn’t know why he is the way he is and you can’t find it in yourself to ask. You just know he was easily scared of losing you. The day you found your intimidating and loving boyfriend in your classmate’s house, hovering over the poor boy with his blood-stained knuckles in the air, was the day you knew your love for him isn’t enough to keep himself from hurting himself or others.

Just a moment longer. One moment. You want to stay in the cold for just a moment longer and admire how beautiful he looks without you even if the bags under his eyes are deep and his downturned lips are set in a permanent frown.

Just one moment. Just until he swings the shot of whiskey down his throat and asks for another.

You exhale into the scarf wrapped around your lips.

“Taehyung…” you whisper his name into the cashmere wool.

As if he’d heard you, Taehyung briefly glances up at the bartender and you hold your breath, thinking he would turn his head towards the window. He doesn’t and instead stares straight ahead, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lithe fingers falling into an empty dinner plate. Your heart leaps in your throat when he doesn’t move, the finger over the glass paused, his lips falling just slightly. It’s not until you look over at where he is staring that you stumble back a step, meeting his eyes through the angled mirror that gives him a direct view of your figure through the window. His gaze pins you to the floor; you’ve seen it many times in your dreams but in real life it feels like needles down your throat.

When he moves from his seat you tighten your hand around your handbag and run, your lungs burning in the cold as you stumble through the blanket of snow in your heavy boots. You don’t turn to look, not when you can hear the faint bell of the café door opening and your name hollered in that deep, baritone voice that makes your insides clench. He sounds just as guttural as the day he was covered in blood, shaking his head and whimpering your name when you kneel next to your wounded classmate, annotated papers strewn across the broken furniture.

You turn into an alleyway, looking around to see if there is a place you can hide or crawl under.

You’re stupid.

So fucking stupid.

The footsteps grow louder in the darkness the faster you run into the alleyways. The smell of smoke and dirt making you hold your breath as you turn another corner only to face a brick wall and a line of abandoned bicycles. Screaming for help is no use in this part of town.

Your toes curl in your boots as the footsteps grow louder and louder before stopping just a few feet from where you’re standing. Taehyung can see you tremble softly under the small lightbulb from the back of a dormant restaurant building and he is in disbelief.

You, who had torn his heart out of his chest, had the nerve to run away at the first sight of him.

Again.

“Turn around.” He breathes into the air. His voice is shaking, from anger or from desperation, you can’t tell. “Right now.”

You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You certainly can’t run past him. Taehyung has always been stronger and faster, even when you had pulled him away from bullies when you were both children. Even when he had let you ravish him, let him drown in ecstasy underneath as you rolled your heat into his pistoning hips, you can feel his strength. You can feel his capacity to easily turn pleasure into pain.

“Turn the fuck around!”

You wince at his voice, your tear-streaked face disappearing further into the scarf.

When you fail to obey, Taehyung walks forward and grips the top of your arm, his large hand easily wrapping around your limb. He brings you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and neck this time as his whiskey breath hits your face. He breathes in the scent of your perfume when he presses his forehead to the top of your head.

You changed so many things about yourself when you left him. The color of your hair. The shade of lipstick you wore. The dresses you adorned. The thick rimmed glasses you exchanged for contacts. The one thing you didn’t have the heart to change was the perfume he loved to smell in your hair. The faint smell of roses and musk that kept his sanity intact when your eyes lingered too long on another man or when you scream and shout at his reasons for locking you in the bedroom after working so hard to earn your first job.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” He whispers, tightening his hold around your body as if you were an illusion that could disappear any moment. “I looked for you everywhere. Everywhere, baby, everywhere…everywhere…”

You remember. The cries your neighbors in Denmark had to endure when Taehyung’s brother informed you that he crawled on his hands and knees in front of your injured classmate’s porch, hoping that if you saw how apologetic he is you might come back. The police had to drag him away on the third night.

“I’m sorry…” you breathe into the scarf, your shaking fingers coming up to grip his caging arms.

Maybe you wanted this to happen. You stayed another second longer, just another second longer, in front of that café window hoping that he would turn his head. You held your hand over the candle when you know it’d hurt you in the end.

“Don’t run away from me again, baby. Don’t you fucking dare or else I’ll go crazy,” he sobs into your hair. His hold is tighter and your heart is bleeding just like it had when you left. “You’re the only one...”

He pulls back and tugs the scarf down to see your face. You, his moon, his love. Your wet cheeks are still full and soft, your eyes as dark as the night sky, and your lips still swollen and wounded from your habit of digging your teeth into your skin when you’re nervous. You sniffle slightly in the cold and in such close proximity you can’t bear to look at him in the eyes until he takes your face in his big, cold hands and angles you to meet his lips.

You taste the cigarettes and the whiskey. Beyond his tongue, you taste his yearning and pain. You taste the nights he spent lying in bed with the dresses you left behind. You taste his appetite to hurt something – someone – when he comes back to a barren living room from work. You taste his seething, heartbreaking anger that enslaved you as the lover who needed to look at him and him only.

Despite the harshness of his tongue, above all cries, you taste home.

…

The apartment would have looked nearly identical as before had he expected your arrival. Stepping in, you’re hit with the smell of alcohol and leftover pizza on the kitchen counter before you witness the broken television and shards of glass from empty picture frames and bottles. There’s new workout equipment in the corner where an old, broken player used to be. Whatever cleaning he had done in the past three years was minimal. The only object that looked cleaner – polished even – than before was the snow globe with two angels in the center. You had gifted the little globe during fifth grade, gathering coins from underneath couches and stealing a few dollars from your father’s wallet.

Taehyung reaches from behind and underneath your armpits to undo the buttons of your coat and pull it down your shoulders. You turn your head away from the living room and let him without complaint, knowing from his trembling fingers that he’s holding back his unease.

He doesn’t have to say anything. Just from the sight of the place you once called home, the broken shards told you everything you needed to know.

Taehyung’s fingers pauses on the scarf around your neck. Moving your back to lean against the wall, you peek at his face through your lashes and look back down again when his piercing eyes meet yours once more.

“If you still loved me, why didn’t you come back earlier? Why leave in the first place?”

He tugs the material free from your neck and wraps the scarf around his hands before hooking it onto the coat rack next to the entrance. The light switch lays just underneath the rack but he shows no desire to reveal the extent of his anger just yet.

“I was scared.”

“Of me?”

You nod. “Of you and of myself. Of us. Together.”

Taehyung doesn’t comment, merely watching your wet lashes glimmer in the darkness as it catches the hue from the streetlights outside the window.

“D-Did you…see anyone else a-after I left?” You ask him in that soft, airy voice that you used to soften his heart when he’d get upset. Old habits die hard.

He squints just slightly before tracing the back of his teeth with the tip of his tongue, his arms coming to cage you further against the wall.

He contemplates lying.

He wanted to hurt you as much as you’ve hurt him. He wanted to watch your brows come together and fat globs of tears roll down your cheeks as he tells you he would bring women who looked like you in this space and made love to them. He wanted the satisfaction in feeling your fists pound his chest when he tells you he came inside them with a satisfied groan against their ear. He wanted to tell you he’d fall asleep with them in his arms and he’d lick every inch of their skin like he had done to you. It would be all a lie, but he wanted to. He really wanted to fucking tear your heart apart even if it’d feel like he’s tearing his own.

No matter how much he desired it, he couldn’t do that to you. Even when he knows without you telling him that you made love to other men in whatever place you ran off to, he couldn’t do that to you. Because he’s always known he loved you far more than you loved him.

“No, I didn’t.” He says and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I’ve only ever been yours.”

Taehyung takes your hand and puts it on his chest. His wristwatch ticks against your skin like a beating heart.

“Take off my coat.” He commands.

You undo the knot around his waist with a small tug and let the black coat fall open. Taehyung hisses underneath his breath when he feels your hands flatten over his pecs and up his shoulders, peeling the heavy coat off of him until he draws his arms down and let the fabric fall onto the ground. He’s broader than you remembered him and so, so much larger in presence like he’s engulfing your entire being whole. He’s wearing a plain white button down with a pressed pair of black dress pants and a matching belt just like the time you left him on such an ordinary day.

His skin is warm underneath the shirt and you can faintly trace his strong arms and shoulders before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek on his chest. You close your eyes and breathe – in and out – gradual and rhythmic and soft. He can hear you whispering his name underneath your breath over and over again like a prayer, like he’s your religion and you found your way back to him to repent for your sins.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you want to stay with him forever when he suddenly takes your wrist from his waist in a vice grip and pulls you into the apartment, not looking back when you stumble and fall on your knees. He half-drags you into the open bedroom and throws you onto the bed before looming over your curled figure as you rub your sore shoulder. The bed smells like you and it takes a moment for you to see your dresses laying across the pillows and blankets until you’re forced to tear your gaze away as Taehyung wraps his hands around your ankles and pull you towards him.

“Tae!” You squeal when he leaves hot, wet kisses down your cheeks, jaw and throat and nips at your skin with his front teeth. Your skin prickles with sweat and your shoulder still aches from his relentless pulling.

The room is stuffy and you struggle to catch your breath with the windows shut and sheer curtains drawn. It’s stuffy most of all with the memories it held of Taehyung bringing you a heating pad during your periods, tending to your hands when you burned yourself making dinner, watching movies with a secondhand projector on the opposite wall, and stealing each other’s popcorn because you always finish your share before the movie starts. The little things that leave such heaviness in your lungs.

Taehyung’s hands are shaky but firm as he reaches underneath your knitted dress and tugs your panties down your hips along with your stockings. Because you’re still wearing your boots, Taehyung doesn’t wait until he buries his face into the crotch of your panties pulled down to your ankles and licks your essence off the fabric onto his tongue, sucking the satin clean before finally unlacing your boots blind with sharp, uneven tugs and peeling them off your ankles. The shoes fall to his feet with a thump and your panties, along with your pantyhose, falls onto the leather not long after.

He doesn’t recognize this attire and it makes him grip the softness of your thighs harder when he imagines yourself or any other man buying you these dresses. It has always been his pleasure to see you dressed in his money. He’d made a promise to be your provider when your parents threw you out of the house as a teen and out of their lives with nothing but a backpack on your shoulders.

As soon as he brings back your luggage from the worn-down hotel you’ve been staying, he’s throwing every dress he doesn’t recognize into the raging fireplace.

Taehyung pops the top button of his shirt and reaches behind him to drag the cotton over his shoulder and head. His skin glows like molten gold and the silver chain hanging from his neck, curving just slightly over his collarbones, sways with his calculated movements. At the end of the chain is the ring from a cracker jack box you’d engraved with a pocketknife.

So many fragments of your relationship with him surrounds you yet you gathered the courage to leave all those years ago. Three long years it took for you to realize you preferred to be in his arms than be free anywhere else. In his shackles you feel safe. In his shackles you feel loved. Your freedom had its own shackles too – putting on pretenses in front of strangers, trying to meet the expectations of men who could never love you like Taehyung does, molding yourself to fit into who you could be rather than who you really are. Taehyung’s shackles feel like jewelry, like luxury, like comfort.

“Did you think about me?” He runs his warm palms up and down your calves, kneeling between your legs as you squirm on the edge of the mattress.

“Every single day. I missed you…I w-wanted to call but…” I was scared you were going to hurt me like you hurt the people around me.

He doesn’t comment and for a moment you wonder if the years of anger he had built inside him will rush forward like water bursting from a dam. It was strange how you are the same, vulnerable person after all these years despite changing nearly every part of your identity.  

When he looks up your heart leaps to your throat. If it were physically possible, Taehyung’s eyes would turn into steel with how hard, how piercing, his gaze is as if he intends to burn holes into your skull. Despite the glare that steals air from your lungs, he’s still beautiful with his uneven eyelids, thick straight eyebrows, chiseled cheekbones, and a prominent cupid’s bow.

“You’re not leaving me again. You hear me? You’re not taking one single step out of this room until I say so. I,” he grits his teeth, tightening his grip around your calves enough to bruise. “don’t fucking trust you anymore. You destroyed us.” His voice is harsh, labored, full of agony. “You destroyed every fucking thing we built together just because I allowed myself to love you.”

“I know, Tae, I know,” you bring a hand over your lips and stifle a sob. Taehyung’s hard gaze falters slightly upon seeing your sadness otherwise his face remains promptly emotionless. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry I left, I d-didn’t know what to do. I just…I’m sorry, Taehyung-ah.”

He takes his hands off of you and places them on the edge of the mattress next to your knees, gripping the plushness with all his might.

“You’re not leaving me.” He repeats as if he needed to convince himself more than he needs to convince you.

You shake your head. “I won’t. I swear.”

“If you do this again…something bad will happen. You know that, right? I won’t let you walk away. I can’t let you do this to me anymore, baby. I…haven’t I suffered enough?” He asks and it makes you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips towards you. He devours you like he needed you to breathe. It was obvious he was suffocated in this little apartment just as much as you suffocated in the little den back in Denmark, struggling to make it to the next month.

“I love you so much,” you whimper against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I’m here, Tae. I’m home.”

Your boyfriend groans as he pushes you back onto the mattress and hovers over your body with his knees on both sides of your hips. You bring your legs back, curling them towards your body before hooking it around his toned waist. The warmth that solely belonged to him, you didn’t know how you survived without it. His tongue roams your entire mouth from the back of your tongue to your teeth. You wince just slightly when his fingers trace your slit underneath your red dress, gathering the wetness over your swollen clit in slow circles then moving down to your throbbing core.

“Is this all for me, baby?” He whispers into your mouth as you snake your fingers into his deep chocolate brown tresses and brush his long hair back.

“All for you. I belong to you, Tae, I always have.”

He tsks, watching your hooded eyes suddenly widen and your mouth fall open into an ‘O’ when he impales his index and middle finger into your soaking pussy to the hilt. You had forgotten how long his fingers are until he’s deep inside, until he pushes so hard against your walls that you can feel him from beneath your skin. Your cervix probes his fingertips back and it makes you squirm and wince as he curls his fingers inside and lightly digs digits into your walls. You’ll take the pain with grace.

Your trembling hands reach down to wrap around his wristwatch, slightly wet with your juices trailing down the length of his palm.

“Please, Tae,” you plead, squeezing his wrist. “I want you.”

His fingers move slowly against your walls, leaving you panting and soaking your dress with sweat. He makes no move to be merciless and instead pushes his fingers incredibly deep until your opening burns. He keeps his fingers inside while he undoes his belt, the clinking of the silver buckle raising goosebumps on your skin. All those times he bent you over the kitchen table and lash you across the ass with the belt for blushing when you enjoyed the attention of another comes rushing back, your insides gripping the contours of his fingers as he moves his fingers up and down. Lewd squelches from between your legs make you turn your head away in embarrassment but Taehyung won’t take your disrespect. Not anymore.  

You’re left unfilled when he slips his wet fingers out and places them in his mouth to suck, eyes rolling back and his smooth naked chest heaving at your scent. He’s brought back to reality when you work to remove his belt, your palm kneading his throbbing hardness as you unzip and peel his pants open as far as they can go to reveal his boxer briefs. His cock bulges through the dark fabric and you can lightly feel the trail of dark pubic hair above the base. In the silence of the room you relish in his labored breaths and the rustle of clothing. It’s a sound you longed to hear when you’d spend numerous night with your fingers in your panties in your lonely, cramped apartment, fingertips rubbing circles around your clit until you leak all over the vibrating dildo shoved inside.

Taehyung pulls the belt free from his hips and makes you sit up to wrap the belt around your neck like a scarf before lacing the leather back into the buckle and then tightening the loop. He places two fingers underneath where the belt meets your neck to make sure you’re safe. Even with anger radiating off every pore, he cares about you, loves you, wants to please you.

“Okay?”

You nod, palming him and wrapping your fingers around his thick, pulsing length leaking pre-ejaculate through the fabric. He admires the need in your tear-filled eyes and twists the length of his belt around his fingers before pulling you up, earning a whimper as your hands immediately move to your makeshift collar.

The fact that other men had seen you in this position kills him.

Taehyung pulls the thin straps down your arms and peel your dress down to your ankles. You’re not wearing a brassiere and he suppresses a smile. You’d often lounge wearing his shirts in the living room, your perky little nipples peeking through the cotton, all ready for his greedy mouth to latch onto.

When you kick the dress away from your ankles and bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, Taehyung takes the chance to kick off his shoes. He’s too impatient to remove his slightly tight slacks and black socks, choosing to give all his attention to you instead.

“You’re really here,” he breathes, eyes glazed over in remembrance of you over the years.

It started with kisses in cafes while studying together; at the time, he hardly knew how to kiss and knew less about the feeling deep in his belly. Kisses turned into roaming hands, his fingers disappearing under your panties and yours under his jeans. You lost your virginity to him – and his to you – in the backseat of his car after graduating in which half the time was him struggling to put on a condom while your laughs made him giggle along. He had always been yours, and you his.

You couldn’t accept that Taehyung is no longer the boy you used to know. While he accepted your changes and made peace with your mercurial ways, you couldn’t do the same for him.

“I want to show you how much I missed you,” you bring his hands to your face and rub your cheeks into his palms like a kitten.

Taehyung melts, his tired smile plastered on his face as he pushes the dresses on the mattress away and lays next to you. You know what this meant. He wants to watch you come undone, watch you mold into his body as your spine arches and he can tighten the belt around your neck as you spill onto the sheets. You reach down and slide your hands under his pants, gasping slightly when your hands wrap around the girth of his cock. His hips jolt when you run your thumb over his weeping tip and smear precum down his thickness. Taehyung turns you away from him, his perspired chest sticking to your back, and brings your hips towards his lap until he can slip his cock between your folds.

Heat blossoms on your cheeks when he pants lightly in your ear, breath hitching as he slips the tip of his cock into your entrance before ramming his entire length without warning.

“Ah!” You grip his iron arms secured around your waist. He pushes his cock further until he’s fully nestled in your warmth.

“Ung, baby,” he hisses, sliding his left arm underneath your head to reach the end of his leather belt. He wraps the leather around his fingers twice and brings the belt back to him as he pushes your spine away from him in an arch.

He begins moving, his hand around your waist slipping down to your clit as he rubs coaxing circles while pulling the collar back to compress your jugular. In the dark, cold bedroom Taehyung makes you feel every inch of himself inside your starved pussy. Your vision is filled with spots and every nerve in your body curls and bows to his carnal hunger.

“Please…please, Tae, please…” You beg as he pounds without giving you the luxury to adjust to his thickness, tight balls clenching further as he grinds his hips into your little hole.

You cum immediately, legs twitching as you sob his name and curse under a single breath, the wetness from your folds coating the base of Taehyung’s twitching, loaded cock. When you gurgle and cough, he loosens his grip on the belt and listens to you heave, watching your arms pull you up and away from him as you get on your hands and knees to take bigger breaths. You palm your lower abdomen with the heel of your hand, the ache making your head turn towards the pitch-black bathroom connected to the bedroom. Not only did his penetration burned your entire lower body, but you can also feel the pressure inside screaming at you to run to the bathroom.

You underestimated how cruel Taehyung can be. With teeth gritted, he suppresses the need to cum, and bring your hips back towards him to slip his cock back into your battered pussy. You’re tighter after cumming and it takes every ounce of his energy to not spill his load inside then and there.

“T-Taehyung I need to go to the b-bathroom,” you pant as you sweat from the pressure building even more in your lower region.

He doesn’t reply, only spreading your legs further with his knees and grip your waist before impaling you onto his cock over and over again until you slump back down to the mattress.

“It aches,” you breathe as Taehyung throws his head back and closes his eyes, plunging with the ferocity of a man possessed. He finds the end of his belt curled on your back and pulls, yanking your neck back and curving your entire body to take his length. He hardly prepped you enough and he did so with purpose, with the intent to make you release in more ways than one. “T-Tae, I can’t…Taehyung!”

His hips move quicker and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes along with his deep, guttural groans.

“Give it all to me, baby,” he snaps, falling forward to pin your body beneath his as he pistons his hips like a demented animal. You can breathe now but your vision is still hazy and your breathing labored. You can’t move your arms with Taehyung’s hands wrapped around your wrists in a vice grip above your head. “Do it for me.”

When your legs convulse underneath and a scream rips from your throat, Taehyung leans his damp forehead on your shoulder and spills his seed inside. You swear you can feel every lash of his load against your walls. Your ears ring just as you reach your high once more, neck arching back, nose in his hair as you spill your wetness over the sheets along with warm urine that stung as it leaks down to the dresses below. This was his intent all along – to claim you and to humiliate you into accepting that he will take your body as he wishes.

Still, the embarrassment makes you bury your face into your arms and sob.

“You did so well for me, baby,” Taehyung exhales against your jaw and takes your earlobe in his mouth, suckling gently before running his wet tongue over the shell of your ear. You squirm in his grasp, feeling as if your bones had turned into jelly.

Taehyung reaches down and runs his fingers gently over your pussy, rubbing the wetness over your pubic curls before leaning back on his heels to look down at the soiled dresses beneath your thighs. The warmth of your urine no longer lingers and instead you’re left shivering with the collar still tight around your neck.

He takes a clean dress from behind and wipes your fluids from his semi-hard cock and thighs before wiping between your inner thighs and folds. You’re quiet, toes curled as he works his way down to your knees where your urine trailed. He rolls you to the side, gently, and gathers the wet dresses in his arms before stepping away from the bed and dumping the mound of fabric into a half-empty laundry basket.

He then takes a towel from the shelf and disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the faint sound of water running as you reach up to undo the belt from around your neck and let the leather fall onto the floor with a clatter. Taehyung would prefer to remove it himself, but he doesn’t complain when he comes back with a warm, damp towel and wipes your cheeks and neck before roughly wiping down your body.

The smell of sweat is heavy in the air but it feels rather comforting to know you can be disgusting with him and still wake up loved in the morning.

You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling until Taehyung pulls you up to the pillows once the top half of the bed is clean, molding his body to yours as he buries his face in your hair. He inhales slowly, arms locking around your body and keeping you caged inside his embrace. Only when you lean into his chest does he bring a blanket over your body and his and tuck you in.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, eyelids heavy.

The room is even quieter than before. It feels serene under the blanket since nothing strange has ever happened when you’re safe in his arms.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your fingers twirling his necklace on his chest. “So…so much.”

Taehyung’s voice is hoarse when he speaks. “I never left. I’ve always been here.”

You blink, training your eyes on the broken chess pieces scattered on the floor, and close your eyes. No more lonely nights. No more haunting dreams.

…

‘What’s that?’ Taehyung pouts when you stand in front of him with a small box behind. Every time he attempts to look around your figure, you turn to hide it behind your puffy white skirt. He was really starting to get pissed off and the playground is growing louder with more lousy children interrupting his time on the slides with you. The fifth grade class is the largest in the school after all and there’s only so many slides to go around.

‘You have to guess!’ You insist, keeping the box behind you still.

Taehyung’s frown deepens and then he tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, turning away in a haughty manner with his nose turned to the sky.

‘Whatever it is, I don’t care.’ He says, stepping closer to the slides, but regrets it immediately when your eyes fill with tears and your hands fall to the side. You know he hates being teased, but he knows you love to keep him waiting.

He looks down at your hand to see a box with a picture of a snow globe plastered on the cardboard.

His mouth opens and close like a fish as he contemplates apologizing but he ends up walking up to you and putting his sticky hands on your face instead, tilting your face up to him. You don’t say anything before dropping the present on his shoes and dashing away, maneuvering through the monkey bars and sandboxes with your skirt floating around your knees.

Taehyung kneels and takes the box in his hand, shaking the package until the globe falls into his palm. There it is, the two angels and the glitter particles swirling around them, the very object that he admired in the book fair yesterday. He turns the globe around in his hands, careful, until he reaches the writing written sloppily with a sharpie pen on the glass.

‘I like you’ 

#bunny:fic #yandere taehyung #taehyung angst #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bangtan fanfiction #bts angst #yandere bts #taehyung fanfic #taehyung oneshot #bangtan smut #taehyung smut #bts smut #devotion #taehyung x reader #bangtan angst #taehyung au #bangtan au #bts au

[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂!

izuku midoriya | tw!guns, single mom!reader, bouncer!izuku, domestic stuffs, tit sucking, mommy!calling ah, AND daddy!calling oh my, breeding kink, breaking the bed (futon). minors dni!

— 5.4k words

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?”

The alley is dark.

There's a disconcerting feeling as you step deeper into the quiet darkness,

You turn to look at the door you entered this dank place from, but it's just as dark and grimy as the walls. You're almost positive that if you rested a hand against them, it would return pitch black, and if you stood in one spot for more than five minutes, the sticky booze would glue your heels to the floor. You're surprised when it doesn't.

"Hand over your wallet and no one gets hurt, pretty lady."

He's a smarmy looking bastard and as thin as they come. It’s clear this isn’t something he does on the regular, the pointed gun quivering so much you worry a trembling might slip and pull the trigger. And you fucking freeze, blood running below zero and heart plummeting because why you?

And fuck, you’ve got a kid at home with a babysitter, and there are many outcomes to this situation, none of them too cute.

"I said hand it over," he grunts, pressing forwards. Your back hits the grimy brick wall as your eyes dart to the mouth of the alley, where life continues, where cars race past, but no one sees a damn thing. Fuck. Fuck.

And it's not like you have much—hell, you may be a mother, but you know how to party. You squeeze your eyes shut, grip tightening around your purse as you clumsily fumble through it and the man steps closer. You toss all you have to his feet. A fucking twenty. He raises an eyebrow before eyeing your watch. He lets out an unimpressed snort.

"That it?"

You nod, taking a shaky step back.

"Well, that ain't fuckin' enough."

There's a click and you're positive it's him turning off the safety. His face twists like he's about to shoot a bullseye, and you squeeze your eyes as tight as they can go.

Until the looming shadow of the stranger disappears, followed by a sound that's distinctly skin on skin. Er—skin on bone.

You don't watch the fight. Frankly, you don't want to, and you still get to hear your protector spew a litany of curses and disrespectful phrases that should really only come from someone's mother. You don't even open your eyes, still screwed shut with a vice grip around your purse and wallet.

"Um, excuse me Miss? Are you alright?"

Your protector's eyes are much bigger than you expect them to be—and green. You realize you remember seeing those eyes, hardened from across the club.

He's hesitant to touch you, hands rising and falling and rising again. Though you suppose a hug seems like it'd be a little abrasive, it also sounds like the exact kind of thing you need right now.

"U-Um, yeah I'm..." you start, before noticing your attackers body bloodied and wrapped like a pretzel on the ground. "...Fine..."

He sounds like he's going to pass out—he doesn't.

"We should um, we should get you home," As he speaks, the greenette shuffles you out of the alley and into the streetlamp light, blinking himself out of something before holding a meaty hand out of formality. "I'm Izuku by the way. Izuku Midoriya."

For such a big guy, Izuku seems rather timid, and yet, seeing him at the entrance with crossed arms in a black tee and a scowl in the club doesn't give you much insight into his personality. Which makes you wonder why he became the club's bouncer in the first place.

"Um, nice to meet you," you nod, trying to suppress the shake in your hands as you take his. "Y/N."

Izuku smiles at that, and even though you're a regular, you've never actually seen him beam on the job. "Cool! Cool, so...um, I don't really feel comfortable letting you walk home...alone..."

You nod—he panics as if you aren't already on board.

"'Cause it's like, a conscience thing, you know? Like, I really won't be able to sleep tonight otherwise," Izuku defends, shoving a clumsy hand in his green curls. "B-But if you don't feel comfortable with it, or something, that's totally fine! I know what you just experienced was horrible, and you probably do—"

"Izuku."

"Yeah?" He perks up. It seems as if the circuit his mind runs finally comes to a stop.

"I'd...feel more comfortable if you walked me home. Too."

Your innards ache at the stiffness in both your voice and figure, but Izuku doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he beams, standing ten feet taller, and you think—yeah. You'd feel much safer if he did.

"O-Okay! Cool!" He confirms a bit stiff himself, and then, in a smoother motion, holds his hand out to take. "Shall we?"

Your red palm claps over his, and you snort quietly, "We shall."

You two walk in a surprisingly comfortable silence for the beginning of the walk—you lead the way and he silently trails behind, glaring daggers at any passerby with lingering eyes as you march on, unknowing.

"So um, do you come to Club 777 often?"

Which is a question you know he knows the answer to, completely aware you almost come every Saturday. But you smile at his attempt to start a conversation anyways, hands tucking underneath your armpits in search of warmth.

"Yeah, sometimes. Just trying to get out and stuff. Y'know, away from the kid."

"I get that," he nods with a smile, before tugging at the hem of his hoodie. "Oh! Are you cold? Here—wait, let me."

He shucks it over your head and your positive it messes up your hair. But you find that you don't care much, especially in favor of the warmth that it provides.

And then, "You have a kid?"

"Yep," you say, tucking your fists into the jacket pockets. "A big two-year-old potato waits for me back home."

"Oh," Izuku chortles at your description before tucking his hands into his jean pockets too. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to the street, "I...assume your boyfriend watches him for the night? Or husband or whoever."

"Uhm, not quite," you chuckle towards your feet, though it's a touch acrid. Izuku picks up on it immediately.

"Oh I'm so sorr—I didn't kno—"

"It's fine, Izuku really—"

"I—but I shouldn't even be assuming what if you had a wife or girlfriend or—" he takes a second to gasp, and your eyes widen in fear that he'll choke, "—or if they're nonbinary or—"

"Izuku," you knock him on the shoulder and he finally shuts up. "It's fine. I get it all the time."

He falters, but at least he seems to relax. "Really?"

"Yes," you giggle behind a hand, and the greenette smiles at it.

"O-Okay, cool."

Flecks of gold swim in Izuku's green irises and you find yourself noticing them now, suppressing the urge to advance closer for a better look. You stare long enough to watch his smile relax into a comfortable line, but you snap out of it once he kicks a rock, the sound of the gravel skittering across the floor tugging you out of your reverie.

"I'm not very good with kids, y'know," he says as an afterthought. You snort.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean," he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. "Like what am I supposed to feed it? French fries?"

"Toddlers aren't it's, Izu." You can't tell if he flushes from the nickname or from what you said, but either way, it's enough to prompt another laugh. "And maybe start with baby food?"

"Ah," Izuku nods, and you guide him in turning a corner. "That would make sense.

"It would."

By the time you stop in front of your red front door, it's almost three am. You figure you caught Izuku right after he got off work, if the cheesy All Might sweatshirt you're wearing is any evidence of that, but either way, he looks like he's about to fall flat on his face.

"You can stay for the night, if you want," you offer, albeit meekly, and Izuku lifts two hands with insistence.

"Oh! No no no please, I'm fine," he shakes his head so quickly his curls bounce in a flurry, and you genuinely worry he's going to pass out when he tries to blink himself awake. "Just...not used to staying up this late is all."

"Then stay," you offer with a shrug, and your orange porch light flickers. "It's the least I can do. I've got a bed and a futon, and I'm fine with sleeping on either."

"I..." Izuku's green eyes flicker towards your door before back to you, "I really shouldn't. I'm a stranger an—"

"And I'm offering."

Izuku's eyebrows fold with the dilemma, but you grab his hand with a tug and a smile, while your free one shoves the keys into the door. "C'mon. Let's get you some rest, yeah?"

You can't tell if Izuku blushes or if it's just the lighting, but either way, his chest inflates in protest before deflating in resignation.

"Okay."

With a smile, you turn the doorknob. Your door has always taken some shoulder to get open, so you don't hesitate in shoving your collarbone into the hardwood. Izuku cringes at the sight.

"Mama!"

Your hit in the legs first, nearly stumbling back with a quiet oof. You look down to see Max wrapped around your legs like you're a fucking jungle gym, grinning with two missing teeth and a bandaid over his nose.

It's three am.

"I'm done," your babysitter grunts. "He doesn't listen when I tell him to bathe, eat, anything—I fucking quit."

And with that, they slam the door behind them, house rattling under the pressure. You sigh. There goes another one. Fuck.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Izuku grumbles under his breath disapprovingly. You smile at the arms crossed over his chest until Max peeks around your legs to see...

"A new daddy?"

"I—no, baby," you fight the embarrassment (and the urge to say you fucking wish) by picking the little one up by his armpits, smiling when he thrusts his hands in the air and goes weee! After he's comfortably cradled in your arms, you say, "He's just staying the night."

"Like daddy did!" Max defends with a giggle before rushing the greenette with open arms. Izuku just looks at you with a shrug before kneeling to take a hug to the chest as Max chants, "New daddy! New daddy!"

And, well. There's no stopping him now.

You peel your heels off your cramping feet and sigh at the fucking freedom, toes uncurling from the scrunched position it feels like they've been holding the entire night. You curse under your breath when you realize since Max is awake you've got to put him to bed too, and honestly, if you knew this babysitter was going to be just as useless as the others, you would've just let Max run fucking free while you lived life for a few hours. Not like that outcome would be any better.

"Alright Maxie, c'mon."

You take him away from his celebration with the greenette and though he pouts, he allows his mother to gather him in her arms.

"Do you um, need help?"

You turn to see Izuku awkwardly shifting in the doorway from the request, hands behind his back with pursed lips. You shake your head.

"Oh no, it's fine. I just have to put him down really quickly and then I'll be—"

"Mama, I'm hungry. I want chicken nuggies." Max loops his arms around your neck and tugs so hard you worry about your bones. You shake your head with a sigh and a pout.

"It's too late for you to be up, bud. You can have chicken nuggies for lunch tomorrow. Sound like a plan?"

But goodness. In this state, it'll take hours for him to relax—and you still have to unfold the futon for Izuku.

Max whines and kicks his legs but doesn't say no, meaning he's not really that hungry, he just wants to stay awake. "But—but what if new daddy's gone in the morning like the last one?"

Fuck.

"Max," you sigh, giving him a light shake so his matching eyes look into you yours. You speak a little softer, "Izuku's not your new daddy, okay? He's a houseguest."

Max's face drops. "Not eve—"

"No, Maxie," you sigh, squeezing him on the shoulder. "Now let's go to bed, okay?"

"I can—I can put him down if you'd like! So you can get into something more comfortable and stuff. I mean, I've never worn a dress but sweats are so much better, you know? Or shorts, or...whatever you wear to sleep."

You understand the many points he's trying to get across, one being that's he's not a creep, just a nice guy, and you suppose you and Max can live in your "new daddy" fantasy for a little longer. Even if you know this one will be gone by morning.

"Um, okay yeah," you say, voice a little thin, before handing your child over to the greenette—who bounces into his arms excitedly. "I'll be back, then? His room is down the hall to the right. The one with the race car bed."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he processes your directions. "Down the hall to the right—okay! I'll just go take this little guy to bed, then."

"Okay, thank you," you nearly bow, because Izuku just saved both of you so much time and he doesn't even understand how. "Oh! And good luck."

"Good...luck?"

"Yep!" You say with a wink and a pat on the back before scooping your heels and booking it back to your bedroom with a cackle. Time to get out of this dress. Fucking finally.

You realize that being alone is much more unsettling when you've had a gun held to your head today.

Every little noise just seems off, like it could belong to something more than it actually does, even the silence; you find yourself shoving your head through your t-shirt abnormally fast, eyes blinking to take a survey of the room to ensure that you're alone. You are. It's fine.

And that's what you tell yourself when you close your eyes to run a wet rag over your face, and again with the dry one. All of a sudden, you don't like the way your bathroom window faces the open backyard nor do you like how dark it is outside. You don't like how big your bed looks, and goddammit, you haven't even gotten into it yet.

Pushing all uneasy thoughts aside, you stumble out of your bedroom with a fresh face and a new outfit, stilling in Max's doorway when the greenette doesn't notice you. Resting against the frame with crossed arms, you smile.

"I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am. You know, when I was a kid I—oh, he's asleep."

Izuku tucks the snoring boy in his lap under the covers with a gentle grin, pulling them underneath his chin. The greenette takes a second, watches Max's chest rise and fall a few times, before ruffling the tuft of hair on his head with a snort, and walking away.

You don't even think Izuku sees you until he practically sashays out the door, winking, "Good luck, huh?"

To say you go red in the face from that is an understatement.

"How do you do this?"

"Do what?" You ask as you pulling the futon in your living room forwards. Izuku yawns before gesturing to the clock with a shake of his head.

"Take care of a kid, and work, and go to a bar every Saturday evening? It's four am, and something tells me you've been up for a while. I'm practically dead and I wake up at one pm every day!"

You chuckle at that, jumping on the bed with your hands and knees to ensure its lays flat...and ensure that it won't make an Izuku sandwich at seven in the morning. "You build up stamina after a while, I guess."

"No shit," he gestures to you as you utilize the entire length of your body to put the sheets on the mattress. He would help, but you told him no, insisting that he'd only make this take longer. "Are you sure you do—"

"Nope," you huff, clapping your hands together. "I'm done."

Izuku blinks at the made bed, to you, to the made bed again, and then back to you with wide eyes.

"Mommy magic."

"I—" you blink towards the ceiling to see if that even makes sense, but you figure fuck it, it's four am, with a snort. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it."

In reality, you feel like you're about to pass out.

"Um, so I don't really have pj pants and I don't think you'll have any that'll fit, so..."

"Yeah no, I definitely burned all the shit my ex left—"

"Aha okay, cool, um, so just boxers...are fine...?"

He looks down at his black jeans and back to you, raising an eyebrow. You toss a nonchalant shrug in return, and you hate to say it, but your inner school girl goes—dick outline.

"O-Okay, then," Izuku says, and you watch his hands curl around the waistband. "I'm just gonna—"

He shucks his pants so hard they hit the floor, and your eyes widen because...well...looks like he's just gonna do it then.

Until Izuku's hands rush to cover his crotch (which you weren't peeking at, you weren't) and you realize that maybe you should've stepped out of the room or something.

"U-Um—that was fast—"

"I thought—thought you were going to uhm, turn around," he flushes, a funny contrast to the way his muscles fold under that black shirt, and your feet move to turn around like he ordered you to do it.

"Sorry! So sorry," you try to apologize, but now his dick print is burned in your brain, and...it isn't that bad.

"It—It's fine! I'm in the bed now so, you can turn around."

You laugh awkwardly and scuffle to turn, as you do, and Izuku beams at you from the bed with a wave.

"Hi," he says, his lower half-tucked under the covers. You wave back.

"Hi."

Izuku's eyes dart to you living room tv before the come back to you. "So uhm, I guess this is goodnight?"

"Oh right," you perk up at that, hands rubbing the sides of your thighs like there's something on them. "Time to go to bed, right?"

"Uh, yeah!" He nods, chest shuddering before he says, "so uh, sweet dreams?"

You smile tight at the kind gesture, and your hands opt to pull at the hem of your shirt instead, eyes drifting to an old pile of records you haven't regarded in months. "Thanks! You...too?"

Izuku smiles, though his eyes drift, "Yeah..."

You beam back. You figure you should probably go now, or something, until you think of something and slam a fist into your palm. "Oh! Also, I meant to thank you for saving me. I'm not sure if I did that. Did I do that?"

The greenette shrugs, "Uh, I think so?"

"Okay! Okay. Cool," you nod, flashing a tight smile. "Mmk. Night Izuku."

"G'night."

And see, you would move—except it seems as if your feet are glued to the floor and won't move no matter how hard you try, to the point where it feels like your straining and they're going numb, and yet you're still staring at Izuku's pretty fucking face.

"C'mon," he chuckles, scooting over on the futon to make extra space for you. "If you take all day, the beds gonna get cold, and then I'm going to have to crawl into yours like a creep."

"Oh my fucking god," you snort one breath and move to flick off the lights before stumbling through the darkness for the futon. "You're so weird."

"Weird in a good way, I hope," he lifts the blanket and you slide under—and swear your knee grazes his before it's snatched away.

"There's no weird in a bad way," you say once you've settled comfortably, tucking your hands under your head as you lay on your stomach. Izuku mimics your position, though he takes up much more of the blanket, and you find that it drapes over you like a tent over his shoulders. Neither of you close your eyes, for some reason.

"Hi," Izuku whispers.

"Hi," you smile back.

"Okay," he huffs, face twisting in determination, "Now it's goodnight."

"Right," you nod, but your eyes don't close. "Goodnight. Of course."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he says with a chuckle, and you can't tell if his eyes flicker to your lips or if you imagine it. Either way, you look them just in case.

"I better not have bedbugs," you snort. "I clean this place like a motherfucker."

Izuku's nose twitches at that with a nod. Moonlight pours into your living room and colors his pale skin silver, though you figure it won't take the sun much longer to color it a strawberry pink. "You really do. It's...different when it's quiet."

"Yeah," you agree, placing your hands on his chest. It shudders under your palms. "Kinda personal, huh?"

"Mhm," he nods, and though his hands wrap around your wrists, they never pull them away. You lift an eyebrow.

"A bad personal?"

Izuku doesn't hesitate, breath nearly ghosting your lips as he says, "Hardly."

"Would you..." now it's your chests turn to shudder, and sliding a hand up to play with his ear, you bite the bullet. "Like to get more personal?"

Izuku's lips melt into a grin against yours, "I'd love to."

His lips are softer than you thought.

Maybe because you assumed all of him was a bumbling mess, including his chapstick application; but they're fucking pillow-soft, and you don't realize how deprived you are until his hold around your body turns from protective to sensual and you melt from his heat.

"Fuck," Izuku huffs between kisses, growling when your grip around his neck tightens. "Watching you from across the club for weeks can do a thing to a guy's patience, you know."

"Oh?" You snort as he presses enthusiastic open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, hot and wet, and painful once his teeth dig into your collarbone. "A-Ah, Izuku—no marks."

"O-Oh! Sorry," he pulls away, lips red and swollen, and shiny with spit. You smile at the reaction.

"'S okay, Baby," you giggle at the speed to which his muscles go lax, and his eyes droop to your chest when you scratch the back of his head.

"Can I—can I suck your tits?"

He asks so bashfully it's nearly innocent, and you find your eyes dropping to your chest along with his before you're ditching his All Might sweatshirt all together.

"God," Izuku's eyes flutter as he gathers your breasts in both palms, groaning at the sight. "They're fucking perfect."

You shudder as his thumb ghosts a nipple, and Izuku dips an experimental hand under your lacy bra and pinches. Hard.

Your thighs jolt and hands fist the sheets, and a moan comes from the back of your throat before you can stop it. Izuku's hand rocket to cover your mouth.

"Shh—you don't wanna wake him up, do you?"

You shake your head, but it's hard to keep quiet when your nipples are as sensitive as they are. Izuku doesn't seem like he really means that statement, though, lowering his head with a devilish grin as if he knows that for himself.

“Sensitive, Mommy?”

“O-Oh um,” you flush at the nickname, and even more so when his lips close around your nipple and suck. Tangling a hand in his hair, you sigh, “Yeah, a little.”

Izuku hums at that, eyes fluttering to watch you bite your bottom lip in a poor attempt to muffle a moan, hissing as his teeth dig into the hardened bud. He pulls off with a slurp and moves to the other, but not without a few kisses across your chest.

“When’s the last time someone touched you like this, hmm?” Izuku nearly growls out before biting into the opposite nipple, and you shudder as he dips a scarred hand down the waistband of your shorts and panties. He chuckles after sliding a finger through your slit. “So wet for me.”

“It—It’s been a second,” you sigh, grip tightening around his shoulders as he slides a finger in. Even Izuku has to bite a lip at your tightness in anticipation, mouth descending over your nipple once more to send frissons of fire up your spine.

“No shit,” he grunts around your nipple, curling his finger. You gasp. “Think I can fit another one in there?”

“Why don’t you try?” You giggle, but it dissipates into nothing but air as he does, his two fingers filling you up enough to elicit a sigh.

“How’s that?” He breathes, face hovering over yours. As your hands coil around his neck, his free one reaches for your inner thigh and pulls it back far enough to give him a better angle as he presses you into the mattress.

“Good, it’s good,” you nod, and your hips start to move on their own, bucking forwards as if there’s any more finger left for you to fuck. (Spoiler: there’s not.)

“Good,” he breathes, eyes going glossy as he watches you writhe under him. You're positive that you're carving painful red lines into his back, but considering the way his eyebrows fold every time you do, makes you wonder if he doesn't mind. "Fuck I can't wait to fuck you—I can fuck you, right?"

"No Izuku, I'm just letting you finger me for fu-u—fuck."

He slides in a third finger and for some reason, it burns a little—but the burn only makes your eyes roll further, and he's stuffing you with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"I-I—you're not pla—playing very fair," you huff, chest shuddering as he tilts your hips higher for a better angle. You suppress a scream when his fingers curl, jolting forwards at such a speed it makes the futon creak. Izuku tightens his grip around your waist to keep you from going too far.

"No one said anything about being fair, Mommy," he teases, and you whine when he removes his fingers, tapping them against your lips. "C'mon, you gotta get 'em wet so I can fuck you, right?"

You nod at the idea, enjoying the idea of being filled up much more, and coat his fingers to the point where they're dripping when he pulls him out. Izuku's chest rumbles.

"So good for me," he purrs, using your spit to coat his cock before he's sliding his head between your folds—you shiver, grabbing onto his back again. "Ready?"

“Mhm,” you nod, spreading your legs further—though you swear they do that on their own.

“Oh my, you’re um...tight...”

You whimper from the stretch and look between your legs, eyes widening upon seeing that Izuku’s much bigger than you had anticipated. Or had been warned of.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—“

“Shhhh, it’s okay, just a little more, okay?” Izuku nearly whispers into your lips as his hands move to rub your shuddering sides. Your eyes screw shut, “Jus’ a little more, Mommy...”

Izuku pushes deeper and you’re being split in half—because what else could that burn be—but you’ll admit, the feeling of accomplishment you receive once he bottoms out is surreal.

“Good—Good girl,” Izuku’s nearly quivering and plants his hands on both sides of your head with a huff.

“I-Izu,” you whimper as he starts to move, feeling impossibly full no matter how far he pulls out. Izuku shudders, mouth rounding into an ‘o’ when his hips slowly start to gain rhythm, and though it’s loud, you know the creak of the futon is unavoidable. You squeal as his head hammers into your cervix, pulling out a wanton Daddy before you have half a mind to shut the fuck up. You nearly freeze, and yet, all Izuku’s hips do is speed up.

“Yeah? Want me to be your new Daddy?” He moans, and you dig your nails into his back with a nod. The greenette curses at that, biting his bottom lip and his hand drops between your legs to rub at your clit. With thighs seizing around his waist, you slam a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck—I make you feel that good, Mommy?” Izuku nearly wheezes, eyes suppressing the urge to screw closed, “So good you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut?”

“Y-Yeah, I—“ you gasp when he lifts your hips off the bed for a better angle, hands fisting the sheets. “Harder, Daddy—“

“Oh Mommy, if I go any harder I think I might break this bed,” he says, borderline bashful, but you find yourself saying fuck the bed as your hips buck in search of a feeling he refuses to give you. Izuku’s chuckle strains as he says, “So needy, Mommy. You that needy for my cum?”

Clawing at his back, you try your damnest to stutter out a yes. Izuku chuckles at your desperation before he cuts himself off with a groan, eyes rocketing to where you’re both connected as you tighten around him.

“F-Fill me up, I wanna—“

“You want another baby, Mommy?” Izuku pants, and you’re so close you start to feel a buzz in your thighs, praying he isn’t too far behind. You nod vehemently with a gasp and his lips slide into an exhausted smile, "Fuck, of course you do—and you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you? All of it.”

Izuku finishes his sentence with a growl, pressing you further into the mattress—it squeaks like a squeaky wheel, and when it thunks a level lower both of you yelp, the back of the futon thumping on your hardwood floor with each thrust.

“Told ya,” Izuku wheezes, eyes scrunching in a chuckle. You return it.

“It—It’s old anyway,” you reply, but your eyebrows fold as quickly as they unfold from the crash. The creaking futon increases in pitch as his hips pick up the pace, “Fuck—fuck Izuku I’m gonna cum.”

“What’s my name?” The greenette challenges, and you find yourself shivering at the dominance he exudes. The finger on your clit disappears and you whine, knowing damn well you can’t cum without it.

“Daddy—Daddy please—“

“Good—fuck, so good for me,” his hand returns to your clit and you sigh at the feeling. As the coil in your gut threatens to snap, his hips speed up, and Izuku pants, “We’re gonna cum together, yeah? Cum with me Mommy, c’mon—“

“Fuck!” You drag red lines down Izuku’s back as you quake under the weight of your orgasm, broken bed whining as Izuku thrusts all his weight into you. Digging his teeth into your shoulder, the greenette cums with a broken moan, hips stuttering into yours for the final time that night.

The room fills with a comfortable silence, minus the panting, and Izuku rolls onto the mattress next to you with a bounce. It creaks, whines, and then drops again, catching both you and the greenette by surprise. (Again.)

“I think—I think we broke it,” Izuku says towards the ceiling as he catches his breath. You giggle at that, hands laid across your sweaty stomach, and turn to him with your head in the pillow.

“Gives me an excuse to buy a new one,” you say with a shrug. Izuku chuckles back.

“I guess,” he teeters his head to both sides. “I can...also pitch in, if you want. Since I broke the thing. Technically.”

His offer sounds apprehensive as if he’s encroaching in your space, as if he hasn’t been all up in your space less than a minute ago. You smile. “I’d like that a lot, actually. Thanks.”

"And um, breakfast? I mean," he snorts, though it seems rather defensive, and his eyes rocket to the ticking clock on your wall. Your eyes follow: five am. "I mean—fuck um, I feel like this might be weird but I think you're cool? Um, yeah, so breakfast, I can make it if you want because you're so busy being motherly and stuff and plus, it's Sunday but again, if you don't wan—"

"Izuku," you giggle, wrapping your arms around his gut with a little squeeze. "Breakfast sounds nice."

The greenette beams and his chest stutters. "O-Okay cool! Cool, cool. Breakfast then?"

You snort, driving your palm into his face to shut him the fuck up. "Goodnight, Izuku."

Izuku giggles, getting the message, and coils his arms around your shoulders to provide a comfort you haven't felt in a very, very long time.

"G'night Mommy."

#— 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 #CLUB 777 #izuku smut #bnha smut #mha smut #midoriya smut

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #male gainer

[hollandsmushroom]

Ok we know all about tom and reader fucking in the gym, but what about reader going to the gym all by herself and tom comes to pick her up, and there's a guy right next to her lifting like 80 pounds, but the instrutor goes to help her, when she's on the treadmill, instead of the guy and tom is pissed like how the fuck would he help you?? He's just trying to get an excuse to talk to you

Don't Need Help || T.H.

Warnings: Highly suggestive and  gym tom

Word Count: 768

The gym was a place that you and Tom liked to go together, it was something that actually forced you to work out rather than devolve and get lost in each other's bodies. With other people around it made you control yourselves, contain the want to grope one another excessively which is what always happened when the both of you were alone. It was one of the days that you and Tom would venture out together and lose thoughts while working your bodies. The presence of other people put you off of more lecherous touches but they did not keep you from longing gazes across the gym.

Tom was at the ergs and it was absolutely exquisite to watch, there was nothing more wonderful than when he hinged his hips backwards, you could see the shadow of his v-line peeking out from underneath the hem of his shirt. The muscles of his thighs caused the fabric of his shorts to tighten and his biceps strained, it was a sight that made you want to kick and scream and suck and bite. Bringing yourself from the ground where you had been vigorously doing your ab workout you moved over to the treadmill.

You passed by a rather muscular man on your way, he was stationed next to where you were working and lifting a rather hefty amount of weight. You nodded to yourself in awe of his stature, thinking to yourself that it was nothing compared to Tom, but that was never a fair comparison for anyone. Running was your cardio for the days workout, and it was an activity that Tom greatly enjoyed watching, his head turning towards you as he noted your change from being on the floor to running, he liked watching how your butt jiggled when you moved, each step you took causing a vibration up your leg. Tom watched intently, a smirk growing on his lips as he slowed his strokes on the erg.

A curiosity blossomed in Tom’s chest as he noted the trainer making his way towards you, assuming that he was going to adjust the position of the man lifting weights next to you, he was lifting too much with his back. The confusion quickly boiled into anger as the instructor brushed past the man next to you and put an elbow on your treadmill, catching your attention.

The man next to you took you by surprise, his presence prompting you to slow your treadmill to a near stop, pulling your headphones from your ears and raising an eyebrow at him in a silently annoyed inquiry.

“Can I help you?” you asked after a beat of silence past, just his eyes tracing your face all too eagerly, threatening to wander down the column of your neck to your breasts.

“Yeah, I was just wondering if I could give you some tips on your form or maybe guide you through an incline run” the man offered and his hand moved to reach out and touch your shoulder but a more familiar one reached out and stopped it.

“They are just running, mate, they don’t need your help” Tom’s voice bit at the man, the venom in his tone causing a small smile to grow on your face, his unneeded territorialism coming into play. “I think that your advice might be better put in the man who is currently lifting 150 pounds and not bending his knees at all” the man's hand retracted, falling to his side lamely.

“Who are you to tell me who and who not to train?” The man was trying to not let his voice portray the amount of fear he was feeling.

“Their boyfriend, fuck off” Tom’s short fuze bunred down and this man needed to get out of his face right then and thats exactly what he did, scuttling off to some random corner to assist someone in need of his help.

“Someone got jealous” you sing songed at Tom, stopping off the treadmill and into his arms.

“And what fucking of it?” he growled back, tightening his arms around your waist, his lips hovering just over yours “I don’t like it when people don’t know that you are mine” you grinned at his words, closing the space between you until your lips brushed over his in a barely there kiss.

“He should have known by the way you were eye fucking me from across the gym” his hands fell from yoru waist and grabbed hold of your hands, immediately tugging you in the direction of the door.

“Lets get home so I can fuck you forreal”

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[nctsworld]

the yuletide boyfriend

✩‌ yangyang ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fluff | angst | smut | friends to lovers | ‌college au | 9k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.  

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.    

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.  

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.  

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.  

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.  

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.  

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.  

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.  

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.  

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:  

“WISHLIST:   -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.  

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.  

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.  

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.  

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.  

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.  

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.  

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.  

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.  

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.  

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.  

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.  

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.  

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”  

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”  

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.  

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.  

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.  

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.  

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.  

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.    

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.  

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.  

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.  

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.  

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.  

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.  

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”  

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.  

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.  

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.  

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.  

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.  

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side,  ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.  

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.  

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.    

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.  

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.  

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.  

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”  

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.  

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.  

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.  

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.  

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.  

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.  

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.  

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.  

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.  

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.  

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.  

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.  

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.  

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.  

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time. 

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”  

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping. 

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile.  “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.  

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”  

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.  

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”  

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.  

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

#yangyang #yangyang smut #yangyang fluff #yangyang angst #yangyang x reader #yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #yangyang fanfic #nct #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nctcreations #wayv angst #wayv smut #wayv fluff #wayv

[spencers-renaissance]

i can't forgive me & you can't forget

Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.

Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe

Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.

It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.

“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.

“Hey.”

Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.

Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.

It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—

“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”

Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.

Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”

So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”

But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”

He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.

“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.

Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.

The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.

But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?

It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.

He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.

But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.

“No,” he says honestly.

Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.

“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.

The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?

He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.

“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”

Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.

It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.

It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.

The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.

Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.

It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.

They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)

Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.

They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.

The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.

Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.

This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.

It’s also the first day he gets a craving.

He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.

This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.

Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.

Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.

Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.

“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”

Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.

“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”

It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.

He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”

“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”

“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”

“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”

Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.

“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”

“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”

Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”

“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”

Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”

“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”

Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.

They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.

“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.

He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.

“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”

Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”

Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.

“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.

Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.

“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”

Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.

“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.

“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.

He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”

Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”

They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.

“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”

“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.

Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.

“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”

Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”

“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”

Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.

The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.

Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”

Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”

And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.

Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #tw past drug use #tw referenced drug use #tw substances #tw alcoholism

[eliemo]

Bored of Love

Summary: Virgil knows Roman is going to leave if he doesn't change. But he still has time. He can fix this.

TWs: social anxiety, fear of a breakup, misunderstandings

Notes: Enjoy this little oneshot while I work on some of my bigger projects. Romantic Prinxiety, established relationship

Virgil didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this.

Which was stupid, he’d put himself in this position. It’d be selfish of him to back out of it now. He might ruin everything irreparably if he even tried.

Virgil could suck it up and deal with this, even if it felt like he was going to die the next time he stepped into a public place the Imagination created for him.

But that didn’t matter. Because this was for Roman- and Roman was beaming. He’d been thrilled all week, eyes lighting up in a way that made Virgil dizzy whenever he suggested another date idea or activity to the Prince, carefully hiding the exhausted waver in his voice that hadn’t gone away after three straight days of taking Roman out.

He’d thought he might have been going a little overboard, offering to go out and do things day after day. He’d been a little worried Roman would catch on to what he was doing. Maybe he’d laugh at how disgustingly desperate Virgil was.

But he didn’t. The Prince just looked more excited each time, jumping up and sweeping Virgil off his feet and into an embrace when a new idea was presented.

And that made it worth it. Roman was happy- happy with Virgil- and that was the best feeling in the world. If it meant Roman would keep loving him, that Roman would stay, a little exhaustion and extra anxiety was something he could live with.

Virgil was just...glad he’d forced himself to do this before it was too late.

He hadn’t noticed it until last week, how...annoying it must be for Roman whenever Virgil wanted to stay in and do nothing. Again.

Virgil had thought it would be ok, that Roman understood that sometimes going out and doing things, being active and social, was just a little too much. He’d warned Roman about it before they’d gotten together, that his anxiety could be an obstacle, that he’d do his best but he’d always prefer to be alone with his boyfriend, held safely against his chest.

And Roman hadn’t cared. Not even for a second. He’d waved it off with grand declarations of love that he’d quickly pushed aside in favor of more serious, quiet promises, holding Virgil close to make sure he understood.

All he wanted was Virgil to be comfortable and happy. All he wanted was for them to be together. If Virgil would let Roman love him, he would be happy no matter what they did.

And that’s what they’d done. And everything had been...perfect. It had been better than he’d ever thought it could be, everything he’d never let himself dare to hope for. Being with Roman made the world feel ok, and the bad days more than worth it.

Virgil loved him. And he was so so scared to mess this up.

Which was why last week, when Roman had actually been annoyed by his introversion for the first time, Virgil had panicked immediately and scrambled to fix everything.

Roman had suggested going out on a date night, something a bit more extravagant than their usual quiet dinner in Roman’s room or in the empty kitchen. And as nice as it sounded, Virgil knew there was absolutely no way he would have been able to handle it that night.

His anxiety had been acting up, leaving him jumpy and tired, and even just the thought of venturing out into the Imagination left him wanting to curl up in his bed and never leave.

And he’d said as much, sheepishly admitting he’d really rather just stay inside for the night. And instead of the usual gentle understanding he got in return, Roman had scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Of course you don't,” he’d muttered. “Come on, Virgil, you never want to do anything fun. Staying inside all day is boring. I’m just trying to do something nice for you like a boyfriend is supposed to do since apparently you can’t return the favor.”

And then he’d stormed off, probably to complain to Patton and Logan, and Virgil he’d been left on the couch feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

Roman had said when they’d started dating that it was ok, that he didn’t care. He wanted Virgil, not the dates and outings and activities. He wouldn’t care if Virgil was too anxious to go out. He’d be perfectly content curling up in bed and watching a movie they’d both seen a hundred times before.

Was that...not true? Had he changed his mind? Was Virgil getting boring? Was he annoying Roman?

Was Roman going to leave if Virgil didn’t hurry up and get it together?

Maybe it was already too late. Maybe Roman had already gotten bored and fallen out of love with him. Maybe there was nothing Virgil could do to convince him to stay with someone like Anxiety.

Beneath the panic, Virgil had recognized he was spiraling. Roman wouldn’t leave him, not out of nowhere. Not over this. Virgil still had time to fix things. He could be better.

Roman had apologized less than an hour later, complete with a bundle of purple flowers and a nervous smile. Virgil hadn’t been mad, of course, and he assumed the apology had only felt necessary because it was impossible for Virgil to hide the fact he’d been crying.

But they were fine now. That had been days ago, and Roman clearly wasn’t giving it a second thought.

But Virgil hadn’t stopped thinking about it, and the next day he’d come to Roman with a date idea, something similar to what Roman had suggested. Virgil had been tired and a little unfocused, but it had been worth it to see Roman positively beam at him.

And then Virgil hadn’t...stopped. He’d kept making plans around their pre-existing schedule for filming and time with the others, more and more piling up until Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a moment to himself.

It had almost been almost a week now, a week of taking Roman out every day and pushing down panic and exhaustion because Virgil was fine. This is what he wanted because it was what Roman wanted.

Every time a date ended the thoughts would come rushing back, panicked and insistent that Roman was still going to leave him no matter what he did. What if it hadn’t been enough? What if Roman had wanted more? What if Virgil had been too quiet- too boring?

They wouldn’t be silent until Virgil made another plan, took them out again, until Roman smiled with undeniable excitement and led them back into the bustling Imagination.

They had another dinner date tonight, in just a couple hours. Virgil found himself hunched over the breakfast bar in the kitchen, staring blankly at his half empty mug of coffee, and trying very hard not to think about how Logan was staring at him.

“Virgil,” Logan said carefully, and Virgil heard him approach from the kitchen doorway. “Are you...alright?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said quickly, too quickly, because he wasn’t fine, it felt like he was going to break down if he had to do one more thing today. They’d already worked on filming, and Thomas had gone out with a friend that morning, and Virgil just wanted to sleep. “Why?”

He heard Logan move even closer, tensing when the logical side put a hand on his shoulder. “Because you’ve been incredibly active this last week, and that isn’t like you.”

Virgil grimaced and shook off his hand, probably more aggressively than was necessary. “I’m fine. Maybe I like being active.”

“You don’t,” Logan said, and it wasn’t a question. “And there is nothing wrong with that, Virgil. Some people are more introverted than others, and socializing drains them more quickly. Not to mention your anxiety makes you—”

“Yeah, I know,” Virgil snapped, pushing himself off the stool to dump his coffee in the sink. “I’m shit at doing things and I’m trying to fix that.”

“There is nothing to fix, Virgil. Pushing yourself like this will only hurt you. I don’t understand why you’re doing this to yourself.”

Virgil sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing at the edge of the counter to keep himself from having a breakdown on the kitchen floor. Logan didn’t deserve to deal with that.

“I’m taking my boyfriend out to dinner,” he said, hating how his voice shook. “And I took him out a few times this week because he deserves it. That’s all. I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan was silent a moment, Virgil still refusing to turn around. “If you told Roman this was hurting you, I’m sure he would—”

“Don’t tell Roman.” Virgil finally spun around, eyes wide and panicked, meeting Logan’s raised eyebrow.“Please, don’t tell Roman, Lo you can't.”

Logan shook his head, watching Virgil with a mix of something between sympathy and concern. “It is not my place to talk to Roman about this. But I do not recommend letting this continue.”

“I’m doing this to make him happy,” Virgil said, and it sounded small and pathetic to his own ears. “I’m...I have to, Lo. He deserves so much better.”

Logan sighed, short and quiet, and for a second Virgil thought he was going to be told off. Virgil was being ridiculous, and no amount of faking excitement and energy could get Roman to stay with someone like him.

But Logan just reached over to squeeze his hand, smiling gently. “Roman is happier than he has been in years since entering a relationship with you. Please try to remember that.”

And then he was gone, leaving Virgil to try and catch his breath in the middle of an empty kitchen until he found the strength to hurry upstairs to get ready for dinner.

--

Dinner was great, obviously. It was great because Roman was there, smiling, eyes twinkling as he talked about...something. For the life of him, Virgil couldn’t focus on the conversation anymore.

He was exhausted and the background chatter of the other people in the restaurant (because of course when Roman created something he had to make it as realistic as possible- what was the fun in a date at a fancy restaurant if it was completely empty and quiet?) was grating against his skull. It was too much and as wonderful as it was to see Roman so happy, Virgil just wanted it to be over.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to Roman’s room and climb into bed and sleep against the Prince’s chest and forget about the world.

But he couldn’t, because this wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t enough, he had to do more because the second Virgil showed just how much he hated this Roman would stop smiling, and he’d realize just how awful Virgil was to be with. Roman was a Prince, he deserved so much better than Anxiety, and if Virgil didn’t change—

“Virgil?” Roman had stopped talking, and Virgil quickly snapped to attention when he realized Prince was staring at him, brow furrowed. “Are you alright?”

It took Virgil a moment to notice he’d started shaking, uncontrollable trembling that was impossible to hide when he took a sip of his water.

But he was fine. He was fine and he needed to get over himself before Roman picked up on anything.

“I’m good, Princey,” he said, cursing how weak his voice sounded. “Do you want to go out to breakfast tomorrow? I had some ideas.”

Roman stared for a second, and Virgil’s heart sank when his smile started to drop. “You’re shaking like a leaf, Virgil. Do you feel sick?”

“No.” Virgil squeezed his hands into fists, nails digging painfully into his palms. “I’m fine, I’m...I’m just cold. It’s cold in here. Do you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”

It was clearly a lie, Roman always kept the temperature perfect in his realm, and Virgil felt more like he was overheating than anything.

“Virge...” he reached forward, freezing when Virgil flinched back before he could stop himself. “Honey, you...do not look fine.”

“I am,” Virgil argued, even as tears began to gather in his eyes. “I’m fine, I swear. We’re having a fun time, I’m ok. You’re...you’re having fun, right? You like these dates?”

Roman didn’t respond for a moment, cautiously looking Virgil over before speaking carefully. “I...I do, but—”

“That’s good!” It came out a bit too desperate, and Virgil internally cringed. “That’s...that’s good. They’re for you.”

“But I’m an extrovert,” Roman said. “We know I enjoy being out and about like this. You’re...Virgil, it’s ok if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. I do want to, I promise. We’re..we’re having fun. You’ve been having fun.”

“I have,” Roman said slowly. “But if it’s at the cost of your mental health we can have fun doing other things. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“Yes I do,” Virgil said before he could stop himself, wincing when his voice broke. “And I’m fine. Do you want to go out to breakfast tomorrow?”

Roman was silent for a long moment, too long, watching Virgil like he was worried the anxious side might break. Virgil thought he might, too.

“Actually,” the Prince started, voice soft. “I was thinking we could stay in tomorrow.”

Virgil hated how quickly his head shot up, hope clawing at his chest when he saw the sincerity in Roman’s eyes. “You were?”

“I was,” Roman said. “I may not be as good as Patton, but I could figure out how to cook us something edible. We could eat it in bed and watch movies, if you’d like.”

It was like a weight had just been lifted off of Virgil’s shoulders, letting him breathe for the first time all week as he wiped away tears still pooling in his eyes. “That...would be really nice. If- if that’s what you want to do. If you’re sure.”

Roman nodded, back to smiling gently, and Virgil couldn’t even try to hold back the pathetic sobs that broke free, leaving him hunched over and trembling in the middle of the restaurant.

He heard Roman’s chair scoot back and for a terrifying second he thought the Prince was leaving, finally giving up on the pathetic mess sitting across from him.

But then there was another chair being pulled up beside him, and Roman had gathered Virgil into his arms and against his chest, letting Virgil cry into his shirt as he held him close.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, and Virgil didn’t understand why he was the one apologizing. “Gosh, I’m sorry Virgil. I’ve...I’ve been so selfish, haven’t I?”

“What?” Virgil pulled back, still clutching at Roman’s shirt. “You’re not being selfish, Ro. I’m...I’ve been trying to make you happy.”

“I was perfectly happy how we were,” Roman said softly. “I thought you were being more social and I didn't want to discourage you, but I completely missed the signs that you weren’t enjoying it.”

“I was enjoying it,” Virgil said, and it was only half a lie. “You were so happy. You were happy. It was worth it.”

“You’re breaking down,” Roman said, and Virgil flinched. “Nothing is worth this.”

“But—”

“I’m gonna talk to Logan about a day off,” Roman continued before Virgil could argue. “You’re going to sleep in, and I’m going to make you breakfast, and we’ll spend the day unwinding. Alright?”

It sounded amazing, like everything Virgil had been desperately wanting all week long, but...but it was the opposite of what he’d been trying to do. He’d ruined the night, and Roman...Roman didn’t look upset, but...

“Are...are you mad? It’s ok if you are, but I—”

“No baby,” Roman said, soft and gentle in a way that only shattered Virgil’s resolve further. “I’m not mad at all.”

Virgil wasn’t sure he entirely believed that, not when he’d so royally fucked everything up. “I’m...sorry. I’m so sorry, I was just trying to be better.”

He felt Roman freeze, tightening his hold for just a second before loosening again to look Virgil in the eyes. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed, not sure why it was a question. “I’m...look, Princey I know I’m a shitty boyfriend and I- I don’t know how long you’re going to put up with it so I’m...trying to change. I can do better. I promise I can do better next time.”

Roman was silent for a long moment, and Virgil expected him to sigh, begrudgingly admit that Virgil was right, he’d just been hoping his frustration wasn’t so obvious, and agree to try another date tomorrow when Virgil got over himself.

Instead Roman tightened his hold, eyes wide and...horrified? “What on earth are you talking about?”

Virgil frowned back at him, panic and uncertainty coiling in his gut because he hadn’t actually thought any of this needed to be explained.

“I know I hold you back,” Virgil said, continuing before Roman could protest. “You love going out and doing things and I know it’s...frustrating that I don’t. You don’t go on quests as much anymore and you're less active because I like to stay in, and I don’t take you out like I should, and I—”

“I don’t go out as much because I’m happy spending time with you,” Roman cut in. “I’d go out if I wanted to, darling. I like staying in with you. Yes, these dates have been wonderful, and I appreciate them. But I’d prefer to do something where both of us are comfortable.”

“But—” Virgil’s breath caught on another sob, and he tightened his hold on the Prince. “But you said I never...I- I thought you were getting bored with me.”

Roman looked confused, but it only lasted a second before realization took over. “Is this...is this because of the fight we had?”

Virgil shrugged, eyes on his lap. “It...wasn’t a fight. You were honest with me and I tried to fix what I was doing wrong.”

“Oh, baby.” Roman’s hands were suddenly cupping his face, tilting his chin up to meet Virgil’s gaze. “That wasn’t me being honest, Virgil. That was me being an asshole because I had a long day and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean any of it.”

Virgil couldn’t see with the way the tears were blurring his vision, but the anxiety that had been relentlessly wrapped around his heart since Roman had lashed out was beginning to unravel.

“Oh,” he said, a little breathless. “I thought...I just wanted this to be perfect for you. I wanted to be good.”

“Neither one of us will ever be perfect.” Roman smiled, wiping away Virgil’s tears with his thumb. “But I love you. I love you so much, Virgil. You’re perfect to me.”

Virgil struggled to breathe around hiccuping sobs still coming from his chest, completely lost because this wasn’t...this was all wrong. “But you...you deserve the best.”

“And I have that. You being comfortable and safe is all I could ever want, Virgil. You’re my world.”

And well...great. Now Virgil was crying in earnest all over again, collapsing into Roman’s chest and letting it all out, melting into his embrace as he once again held him tight.

Roman shushed him gently, rocking them both where they sat, running gentle fingers through Virgil’s hair. “You deserve the best too, Virgil. Please don’t ever put yourself below me.”

“I do have the best,” Virgil said, muffled from where he’d buried his face in Roman’s chest. “If...if you stay.” He quickly pulled back, panic clawing at his throat. “Not- not that you have to stay. You don’t. I’m not...you’re not trapped or anything, I just—”

“I know, Virgil,” Roman said gently, and he relaxed again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ok,” Virgil sighed, breaths still shaky, head rested on Roman’s shoulder. “Sorry for ruining dinner.”

“You didn’t,” Roman assured, rubbing gentle circles along the anxious side’s back. “Would you like to go home?”

Virgil probably nodded a bit too fast, but Roman didn’t seem annoyed in the slightest. He just scooped Virgil up bridal style and carried him through the now silent restaurant. Virgil belatedly realized Roman had gotten rid of the rest of the customers.

“I love you,” Virgil whispered, wrapping his arms tight around Roman’s shoulder when the Prince kissed the top of his head. “I’m really sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Roman said, stern but gentle in a way that didn’t send Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketing. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Virgil nodded, too tired to form another response, closing his eyes and letting Roman take them back to his room. For the first time all week, Virgil found himself looking forward to what tomorrow held.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #logan sanders #fanfiction #writing

[bokuroskitten]

Hey love your content I'm about to binge read all of it!! Could I possibly request smut prompt 145 with poly Iwaio x reader. I totally understand if not. Thanks for all your hard work!! 💕💕💕💕

Your kindness is much appreciated, lovely. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as you’ve enjoyed everything else. ❦

145. You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?

➤Genre: NSFW 18+ ➤warnings: Poly Relationships, Dom!/Sub! Dynamics (Daddy & King titles), Bondage, Gags, Degradation, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Overstimulation, Blowjob, Vaginal Penetration. ➤Character(s): Hajime Iwaizumi x Toru Oikawa x Fem!Reader ➤Word Count: 2.8k

✯The key to these dynamics is TRUST & CONSENT✯

“Princess... I told you to stop with the squirming.”

“B-But Toru...” Your pleas fell upon deaf ears as the click of the handcuffs to the bed frame signal you were trapped. You gave a tug on your arms, knowing they weren’t going to go anywhere but wanting to give Oikawa a bit of a hard time. 

You knew Iwaizumi would NOT be happy to see the two of you at home, playing with the toys without his permission. But Oikawa was feeling frisky to say the least, from the way he had roughly tugged your ass to the bedroom, to the way he currently stared at you with a predatory like gaze that had a blush rising to the tips of your ears. 

“Hmmm, what else does Iwa-Chan usually use to keep you from squirming...~” The brunette pondered out loud , a certain playfulness to his tone as his fingers brushed over the contents held in the shared box usually only Iwaziumi had the pleasure of going through. “Oh~ He always has to use this one on me!” He pulled out the all too familiar ball gag, dangling it by the leather strap as the light from a candle caused the red rubber to glisten. Your thighs clenched up at the sight of it, memories of previous scenes and fun encounters with your boyfriends clouding your judgement way too quickly. 

“Toru--”

“King, bunny. C’mon you know how to address me.”

You had to swallow a lump in your throat. “King... you know that Hajime doesn’t like when we play without him...” Another thing they had learned very well from past experiences that had left both of them unable to sit for days. Oikawa had to pout at such a remark, fingers absentmindedly rubbing along the leather within his palm. His eyes wandered to you then, seeing ever so subtle rise of goosebumps on your skin, the way your eyes still stayed glue to the toy in his hand despite the warning you just gave. 

It made his pout fade into a knowing little grin. 

“But you want Hajime to come home and see us misbehaving, don’t you Princess?”

“W-What--”

“You want him to come home and punish us for being such bad babies hm~” The patronizing tone that dripped from his lips only made your thighs clench harder as he crawled towards you, licking along his lower lip as you began to squirm once more. Easily taking hold of your jaw he slowly dragged the rubber of the ball along your lower lip, watched the way your mouth easily went slack at such an action. “Maybe he’ll be happy to see you all tied up for him anyway~ We both think you look so pretty like this~”

“King~” You breathed, cheeks brightening at such a comment.

“Open up bunny, do it for me.” His voice was nothing more than a purr as he squeezed your jaw a little tighter, urged you to open your mouth wide enough that he could slip the gag between your lips and you did just that, your desire to please Oikawa much higher right now than your fear of Iwaizumi. He let out a hum of approval as the ball popped in snug between your lips, long fingers quick to easily secure it behind your head. As he pulled back to get a good look he saw the way your eyes glistened with the idea of being caught. 

“Feel okay Princess? Not too tight is it?” That soft tone of his made a little flutter vibrate in your chest. You were quick to shake your head no, teeth digging into the rubber some as drool already threatened to slip past your stretched lips. Oikawa returned a nod of approval before he was back to the box, eyes scanning the contents once more to land on the item he wanted. Devious fingers tugged out two vibrators, one a little bigger than the other that you assumed only meant trouble. Your back arched a bit as he crawled back between your legs, a mewl escaping you as you attempted to close your thighs.

“Ah ah~” He gave gentle slaps along the skin of your tights as a warning, the contact easily making your legs to slack on his sides. “Don’t make tie your legs up too Princess, thats just too much work for me...” His brow was cocked as he ran the tip of the smaller vibrator over your panties, right where he knew your clit was hiding underneath. “Plus I wanna see you drooling around that gag already.” 

You weren’t given time to react as the little device was turned on, your body jolting from the sudden pleasure that shot directly into your bundle of nerves. Your arms strained a bit against the cuffs as you let your head lull to the side, muffled pleas leaving you as your hips twitched to the rythme of the vibrations. Oikawa watched with wide eyes, his own arousal growing in size fast at the way you were so reactive, at the sound of your pretty muffled noises. He pressed the toy further against the flimsy fabric, groaning when your back arched off the mattress. 

“That’s it bunny... Wanna see you cum just like this.” His voice dripped with desire as he watched you crumble fast, skin already beginning to tremble from the vibrations being pressed into your clit. Wanting to put the second toy to use Oikawa took advantage of the fact that you were still wearing panties, slipping the little device beneath the fabric so it could do his job and hold it right up against your clit.

The feeling of the toy on your bare flesh had you mewling, thighs going weak at your sides as they opened up further. Vibration after vibration was sent straight into the knot that formed in your core and you could feel your own arousal begin to soak your panties, looking up to Oikawa desperately for more.

He could only chuckle softly at such a look, his palm smoothing over your cheek. “You already look so desperate Princess...~ No wonder Iwa-Chan keeps you like this.”

You wanted to beg him for more, to get the teasing to stop as your hips rose off the mattress, attempted to find any more relief. But with the cuffs keeping your wrists in place and the gag held securely between your lips you would only muffle your desires at him. Oikawa had to chuckle again, a sense of power flowing through as he watched you crumble under his touch. He wasn’t used to being the dominate one but it was something he certainly could get used to. 

Slowly sliding the now dampened fabric of your panties to the side he stared as your pussy with a lust filled gaze, his grin growing as he pressed the tip of the toy to your slit. This earned a pleased little mewl from you, the reaction he was hoping for as he cooed, rubbed the rubber tip along your slit to collect your juices there.

“Want me to put it in don’t you Bunny? Wouldn’t it feel so nice to have this pretty pussy filled...”

And he was going to too, he was ready to plunge the toy into your throbbing hole before the creak of the bedroom door shook him out of his trance. Quickly the brunette snapped his head towards the door, minimal panic filling him at the sudden intrusion before he met the familiar green eyes that belonged to Iwaizumi. 

Green eyes that were currently not happy at all. 

“So this is what I’m coming home too, huh? You look a bit tied up (Y/N). Want me to come back later or?” His tone also, wasn’t very happy.

Oikawa on the other hand was thrilled, his playful grin from before coming back as he leaned into your bound form, his breath trailing over your already bare chest to have you squirming even more. “Hi Daddy~ How long were you watching hm? Bet this is such a pretty thing to come home too after a long day of work-”

“Better shut it, Toru.” Iwaizumi interrupted his partner, a sigh slipping past his lips when he received a laugh in return. He was quick to enter the room, sleeves of his button up already rolled to his elbows as he walked right up to the bed, his eyes meeting yours to see how far the two of you had gotten. 

You whined at him, your eyes fluttering when they met that of green that was laced with not only disappointment, but a predatory gaze. He almost let a smirk twitch on his lips then, almost. Instead he took Oikawa by the throat, enjoy the sound of the breathy little gasp that bubbled past his boyfriends lips. 

“You know how I feel when my babies play without me, right Toru.”

It took him a second to respond, his breath getting caught behind a tanned hand.”Y-Yes Daddy...”

“So tell me why, you’re not only playing with Princess without me, but also using MY toys without permission hm?”

Oikawa tried to use that pretty voice he used on Iwaizumi when he really wanted something, his fingers curling around his boyfriends wrist in an attempt to gain his affections. “I thought you’d wanna join Daddy~”

“But you didn’t Ask. Neither of you did.”

When Oikawa didn’t answer Iwa snorted out a laugh, releasing the males neck with enough force that he stumbled back a bit on the bed, flush rising to his cheeks as he caught his breath. “My stupid, slutty babies.” Iwaizumi murmured, his hand traveling to your face where he easily unlatched the gag he was so used to doing up. When the ball popped free of your lips lines of drool followed, only for Iwaizumi to smudge it across your cheek before you could respond to him. “So horny you couldn’t wait for Daddy to come home... or use some fucking manners.” He spit out the last phrase, which had excitement flowing through both you and Oikawa. 

“Toru, since you think you can just stick your hand in the toy box whenever you want, grab another pair of cuffs.” He spoke in a tone he knew Oikawa would follow, and that he did, scrambling to grab the closet pair of cuffs. Iwaizumi leaned into you then, unclasping your wrists from the headboard. When you moved up to kiss him he took hold of your jaw, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

“Tsk. As if. The cuffs are staying on since the two of you can’t control yourselves.” His other hand was quick to remove the little vibrator from your panties and easily throw the little device away. The sudden lose had you whining, your core now throbbing for any sort of attention. 

That made Iwaizumi laugh, releasing your jaw to stand at the edge of the bed. “Strip fully. Both of you. Against the headboard Toru, and on your knees before him (Y/N)”

“But Daddy.” Oikawa attempted to interject, but Iwaizumi’s palm was quick to swat against his cheek. The action had both you and Oikawa groaning, the males usually pale cheek turning a bright pink from the impact. “I’ve already had enough of your shit. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And he didn’t You and Oikawa were stripped naked and in your respective positions before Iwaizumi could make another command. He had been preparing a punishment all the while, low hums escaping him as he collected what he needed from the toy chest. By the time it was tucked back beneath the bed he eyed the two of you. He watched the way you stared desperately at Oikawa’s naked form, at his length which currently stood tall and dripped a little bead of precum. Oikawa hand a teasing hand over his length, biting his lip as he also couldn’t keep his eyes off your naked form. 

It made Iwaizumi’s eyes roll.

“Such desperate whores. Both of you.” He spoke as he yanked Oikawa’s hands away from him, ignored his whining as he cuffed his hands to the head board instead. “I didn’t know you two were so stupid horny that couldn’t wait a couple hours till I got home.”

When he was kneeling behind you, you spoke softly, blush rising to your cheeks as you felt him secure your two wrists behind your back. “W-We’re sorry Daddy...”

“Aw baby...” Iwaizumi murmured, bringing his lips close to your ear as his palm smoothed up your naked spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. “You’re really gunna be sorry when I’m done with the two of you.” His fingers were at the nap of your neck when he gripped a hand full of hair, roughly pushed your face down until it was dangerously close to Oikawa’s cock. 

“Open that pretty mouth Princess, since you were so eager to have to stuffed before.” 

“Oh fuck yea.” Oikawa groaned softly, his thighs falling opening further, hips pushing forward a bit so his tip could brush along your cheek. Iwaizumi sent a glare his way. “Don’t too excited. You can only cum when I tell you too.”

“B-But--” Oikawa was cut off when Iwaizumi grabbed hold of your jaw, forcing your lips open and pushing your mouth far enough down on Oikawa’s cock that your nose brushed the skin of his pelvis. You gagged softly around his length, throat clenching up from the way his tip pushed on the back of your throat. 

Iwaizumi smirked, watching the way your back tensed up and the fluttered of Oikawa’s lashes as his arms strained against the handcuffs. “Don’t make me get the cock ring, or you won’t be able to enjoy our pretty girls mouth.” Oikawa could only nod, biting hard on his lip as your warm mouth held his cock, feeling droplets of drool already begin to pool between his thighs. 

Slowly Iwaizumi loosened his grip in your hair, his hand slow travel back up the length of your spine to your perched ass. He gave it a playful swat, and although you let out a muffled yelp around Oikawa you still stayed down, making Iwaizumi hum in approval. “Good girl Bunny... keep King’s cock warm while I fuck this pretty pussy.” His fingers trailed your lower lips then, smirk growing as the subtle touch covered his finger tips in your arousal. 

Oikawa was having a hard time keeping himself still as Iwaizumi pulled off his belt and unzipped his pants, positioning himself behind you. Letting out a little whine his hips twitched, thrusting into your throat to have you gagging. Iwaizumi shot him a look, the smallest of growls escaping the back of his throat. “Don’t be stupid, Toru.”

“S-Sorry Daddy...” He barely breathed out, letting out a keep sigh to try and calm himself as your throat constricted around his cock once more, sending a pleasurable wave all the way up his spine. Iwaizumi brought his focus back down to your clenching core, slowly rubbing his tip along your slit. He grabbed at the back of your neck again to pull you off Oikawa, grinning when you took in a large breath and drool bubbled off your lips. Oikawa’s dripping cock stayed slick against your cheek, begging for more attention. “Ready Princess?” Iwaizumi asked, waiting for you to blink the tears out of your eyes and give him a nod. 

As soon as that was done he slowly pushed into you, silencing your moans of delight by pushing your lips back around Oikawa’s cock. Iwaizumi and Oikawa moaned in unison, filling you up on both ends. 

“Look at you, being stuffed by two cocks. Isn’t this what you wanted my little whore.” Iwaizumi’s voice was low as he spoke, a pleasurable glaze coming over his usually green eyes as he began to thrust his hips, watching the way your throat would bulge around Oikawa with each push into your pussy. You choked out sobs around Oikawa, new tears spilling from your eyes as both of your boys cock’s made your head spin. 

“Fuck... fuck~” Oikawa was panting as Iwaizumi continued to thrust, his cock being hugged in all the right places by your throat. He kept his eyes glued to Iwaizumi, watched the way the muscles in his arms tensed up as he fucked into you, gripped your hip tight enough that there would certainly be bruises. How badly he wanted to touch him, if only his arms weren’t bound above his head. 

“Daddy.” Oikawa breathed out through a moan, his hips trembling to stay still as your mouth made him feel light headed. Iwaizumi ignored him completely, instead thrusting into you rougher. The action had you gagging roughly on Oikawa, the vibrations traveling straight into the males core and making his own eyes water. Having to hold back his release made him whimper again. 

“Look at my stupid babies, crying over a little punishment.” Iwaizumi licked his lips, groaned when your pussy clenched around his cock at that statement. “When I’m done with the two of you, you’ll be sobbing like the bitches you are.”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #hq fanfic #haikyuu hq #hq oikawa #hq iwaizumi #iwaoi #iwaoi x reader #oikawa toru x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #oikawa smut #oikawa x iwaizumi x reader #iwaoi smut

[red-writes]

Career oriented 

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot      of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first. 

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you. 

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

 A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg. 

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin. 

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore. 

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club” 

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?” 

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm. 

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right? 

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am” 

+

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort. 

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy. 

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try. 

+

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified. 

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest. 

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous. 

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally. 

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be” 

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date. 

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin. 

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead. 

“Okay, I have an idea” 

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again. 

“What do you say?”

“Alright!” 

+

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work. 

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake. 

“No, just realized somethin’” 

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?” 

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face. 

“You look pretty when you're having fun” 

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other. 

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed. 

+

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged. 

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax. 

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was. 

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road. 

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face. 

+

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming. 

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together. 

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer. 

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

+

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and  laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were.  He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside. 

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you. 

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move. 

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you. 

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head. 

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls  greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time. 

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy. 

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest. 

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. 

“That’s my hard working girl” 

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment. 

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want” 

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“Goodnight love” 

“Night Kats..”

#bakugou #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo smut #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #mha #bnha #mha smut #bnha smut #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou smut #bnha bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #fluffy smut #bakugou fluffy smut

[ventiskies]

When he rejects you | Chongyun, Scaramouche, Albedo

a/n: hello friends!! i apologize for my somewhat disappearance TwT im currently having exam season but i couldnt help but write something for my favorite three (and yes, scara is there... and honestly, I don't know when I started simping for him either but you can now call me a future scaramouche haver >:)) so not a request, but do enjoy !! <3 (apologies if there are any errors!!)

pairing: chongyun x gn! reader, scaramouche x gn! reader, albedo x gn! reader (platonic)

Chongyun

★ Chongyun, Xingqiu and you had been best friends since you were kids. And although you were a trio, you and Chongyun had always known each other much longer.

★ If your life were a book, it would be a sweet childhood best friends growing up together genre, something that often piqued Xingqiu’s interests when he drags the two of you to Wanwen bookhouse

★ The books you had borrowed from Xingqiu about them all ended with the same thing; that they end up becoming a couple and growing up together. Reminiscing about their childhood youth when they were old.

★ You knew not to trust the books or use them as a guide, but just like the books, you had grown to fall in love with the icy-haired boy.

★ Chongyun was like a breath of fresh air. His determination in exorcising ‘evil spirits' to the point that he blindly falls for Xingqiu and your pranks were the things that you loved about him. He was filled with enthusiasm and positivity (literally).

★ You grew into enjoying his positive attitude, you couldn't imagine a day going by without Chongyun telling you and Xingqiu about a so called 'haunted' place he had found, and forcing the two of you to come with him. and even if it had ended without meeting a single spirit, he would still be in high spirits.

★ you loved it, seeing the rush of thrill he feels whenever he senses a spirit nearby, hoping the spirit was able to withstand his excessive yang energy. the repeating days without one successful exorcism, only to end up getting treated to a meal by Xingqiu, and the parting that always ends with a promise to see each other the day after. Chongyun speaks his emotions, and you were in love with that.

★ and him, just in general.

★ And one day, you had decided to tell him just that

★ You were both on the hunt for Jueyun chilies for Xiangling, a small commission that you had decided to take on while waiting for Xingqiu to finish his work at the guild. The sun had set, and you had returned from Qingce village with a bucket full of the chilies and had decided to rest on top of the mountain where you had both Waypointed to just to admire the sunset.

★ In the heat of the moment, you had spoken.

“I like you, Chongyun,” you had said, looking at him with a smile.

★ You would have accepted a silence. You had expected it to be like the books; he would gently laugh and look at you, admitting that he had been waiting for you to say the exact words, lean in to kiss you. It would be awkward at first, but it’ll also be something to look back to in the future when kissing becomes something you do every day. You’d return back to Liyue Harbor hand in hand, and be able to tell Xingqiu and Xiangling that he was your boyfriend now, and admit to the former that maybe his books were right.

★ But instead, you were met with Chongyun’s wide eyes staring at you. His cheeks flushed red with what you had tried hard to hope was shyness, but had appealed more like panic. He had stood up and cleared his throat

“We- we should get back,” he says, too quickly for someone as calm as he is. And you knew it was a wrong step, “I’m-,” he clears his throat, “I’m going to go ahead first. I'm sorry,”

★ You didn’t know if he was apologizing for leaving early, or for not being able to accept your feelings, but when you hadn't seen him the following day, you could only assume.

Scaramouche

★ Honestly, you had it coming for you.

★ Scaramouche is someone whose life is their job. There was nothing that could distract him from working for the Tsaritsa

★ You had (been self-entitled) as his best friend. And honestly, if Scaramouche knew of it, he doesn't blame you. Everyone in the Fatui and who worked under the Fatui knew how close you were. Which was odd because, for one, you were absolutely nothing like him. Although you weren't exactly liked by everyone, you weren't loathed by everyone like the sixth harbinger was.

★ Scaramouche was feared by anyone who hears his name or walks a foot away from him, while you carried a calmer aura. Without glancing, Scaramouche could bring his subordinates trembling, while they would greet you when you pass by them.

★ You were polar opposites, and yet, everyone has seen the two of you together so much that when he wasn't with you or the other way around, people would assume you were on a solo mission or just leaving the other’s quarters

★ Of course, being his best friend, you weren’t spared of his usual harsh words. As a matter of fact, you probably had it much worse than anyone else. It had almost seemed as if every time he spoke, he spoke like he was trying to get rid of you.

★ But if that really were the case, then he hasn’t been trying his best. You had stayed with him since you had become an ally to the Fatui, and ever since then had stayed by his side. When others shake in fear, you shake your head with a laugh and a retort.

★ It had even come as a surprise to you when you had realized you had fallen for the harbinger. You would think that spending time with such a foul-mouthed person who would murder someone in the blink of an eye with no hesitation would make you dislike him. But that didn’t happen.

★ In fact, it was quite the opposite. You had fallen in love with him.

★ It wasn’t obvious to anyone, and even you had to take the time to squint to look for it. But Scaramouche did care for you in his own way. Whether it be toning down the harsh words when he sees your mood dampen after a mission, or beating the shit out of a person who had attacked you ruthlessly, not stopping even after his hands were covered in crimson liquid and the person almost certainly died. Even if he calls you a hindrance afterward for dirtying his hands, he definitely thought of you the same as you thought of him.

★ A friend.

★ Or, you had hoped, something more.

★ It was a mistake to take his slight kindness as a sign of him liking you, it truly was.

★ During your journey to Inazuma for a mission, you had decided to confess to him out of the blue. You knew he was someone who could predict the outcome of something even before you said anything, so a slow confession when the sun was setting in a field of flowers would just be a waste of time. if there was something you learned, it's to cut to the chase with him.

“Hey Scara,” you had said quietly. He had replied with a low hum, not turning back to look at you, “I like you.”

★ Without a second thought, Scaramouche had taken you by surprise as well.

★ He had not stopped in his tracks, instead, his shoulders shook in laugher. His laugh wasn't the same laugh you hear whenever you make a stupid mishap or get slightly injured during a simple mission- no, those laughs were warmer. Although laced with unkindness, they were more familiar.

★ This one was condescending. As if you were a new recruit again, having to work under him. As if all those years as friends had just gone down the drain.

“Stupid. What a fool of me to assume you were different.” he says, voice clear as a bell in the night, “don’t be an inconvenience. I don't have time for people like you.”

Albedo

★ Ever since working under Albedo with Sucrose, your life had been nothing but full of wonder. Although some were dangerous, Albedo and you bonded easily as if you had worked together in a past life.

★ Albedo was a genius. He was someone you looked up to, and sometime during your investigations, he had become a friend. You didn't know when it started. When it had gone from two alchemists staying the night in Dragonspine to observe the different stages of new plant growth, to- with the permission of the acting grandmaster - just two people, two friends, going out to explore the seven nations.

★ Sucrose and Timaeus had stayed back in Mondstadt to finish experiments that you both had decided to put on hold for your trip, and with nothing to worry about, the two of you had gone out with nothing but the protection of each other (and your visions, of course), and a few packed meals from Good Hunter.

★ Albedo had a side that no one saw unless they spent nights camping with him in the middle of nowhere. You were one of the lucky people who were able to see that side of his during your trips around the seven.

★ The alchemist wasn't just curious about the way the world works, he had also been curious with, well, you.

★ Some nights when he couldn't go to sleep (which was often. You’d be surprised to see how messed up his sleep schedule was), he would sit in front of the fire you had both worked hard to make, and simply talk.

★ sometimes, it would be short conversations. but more than often, you find yourself talking about everything and nothing until the sun rose above the mountains, and you would have to continue your journey until one of you (usually being you,) were too tired to continue.

★ Albedo talks with passion, no matter what the topic is. He could be talking about what you were going to be having for dinner for the next night before you reach the first region in your trip, and he would already have you captivated.

★ Albedo also talks with gentleness. And this was the said side not a lot of people would be able to see from the chief alchemist. Whenever the tent was filled with comforting silence, you would be able to hear Albedo asking you questions about yourself. They weren’t your standard, what was your dream growing up? Kind of questions, but they were more specific. More… personal.

★ Is it not funny, how life works? What if a single moment had changed in the past, I and you wouldn't have met. He would question, eyes trained to the flames burning in front of him. It sounded rhetorical, but his tone was laced with wonder. He sounds as if he was expecting an answer, but he doesn't urge you for one. And every time he does, you merely hum.

★ Albedo was gentle in everything he did. Almost all the time you were with him, he had never acted brashly. He was patient, kind.

★ and that was most likely what had prompted your crush on the alchemist

★ crushing on Albedo was like looking up at the stars. he was someone who shined brightly, but you knew he was too far to reach, yet despite that, you had still attempted to.

★ you had decided to finally let it all out on him the night of your final stay before you reached your final region, which was Inazuma.

★ and that, you had realized a little too late, had been the icing on top of a really terrible cake.

"Albedo," you had stared, and the alchemist immediately turned towards you. that was something you had grown fond of. you knew Albedo was a man married to his work, so when he turns to you in the midst of it, you felt your stomach churn in delight, "I have to tell you something,"

“Hm?” he hums, setting his notepad down to give you his full attention, “what is it, y/n?”

★ You took a deep breath, and the moment you had opened your mouth to tell him, you had a sinking feeling you had made a huge mistake.

“I like you, a lot,” you muttered, “not just platonically, Albedo. I… I think you're really interesting. and if you'd like, I would love to be with you. ”

★ Albedo’s face had fallen, and although it had been the slightest, you had still noticed it. He looked at you as if the cogs were turning in his brain, and finally, he looks down

“I must apologize,” he starts, and you feel your stomach drop, “but I’m not interested in you that way, y/n. If it makes you feel better, I see you as a very dear friend,”

★ You nod, apologizing to Albedo before he offers a small smile before continuing his research

★ You both did not speak of it, but there was a very thick air of silence hangs over the two of you afterward, that didn't dissipate even after you both left the camp.

#i am very sorry #actually might make a next part if anyones interested B) #angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact chongyun #chongyun x reader #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact chongyun x reader #genshin impact albedo x reader #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #genshin chongyun x reader #genshin albedo x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #genshin impact imagines #albedo x y/n #scaramouche x y/n #chongyun x y/n #albedo x gn reader #scaramouche x gn reader #chongyun x gn readr

[kimistorm]

[Lee Felix] Leap of Faith

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: [Felix x GN! Reader]

Warnings: fear of heights, jumping from high places (into water), mention of accidental death

Word count: 1.3 k

Requested by: AvatarKyarra on Quotev

Prompt: Lee Felix. "Why are you taking off your shirt?" and “Well, this is new”

“Lee Felix if I die today this is going to be your fault and you’re going to have to explain to my parents how you killed their child!” you howled into his back with screwed shut eyes as you clutched your arms around him in a nearly bone-breaking way.

“You’re not going to die,” he wheezed out after you knocked the air out of him and he awkwardly reached around to try and pat your head reassuringly.

That did nothing to make you feel better as you continued to screech as loud as you could, “I’m scared of heights you numb nut!”

“Oh.” His body stiffened under your grasp and became awkward, “well, this is new.”

“Even Chan knew about this!” you couldn’t believe this betrayal. Felix. Your boyfriend of over a year still didn’t know about your crippling fear of heights. Though, in his defense, the two of you haven’t gone to an amusement park or looked at the view from atop a building.

“Don’t worry, I’m right here.” He continued in his soothingly deep voice.

"But if you fall I fall!" You continued to shout, refusing to look down. How Felix managed to convince you to climb up this rock in the first place was a mystery to begin with. Okay, maybe not. You loved the human embodiment of sunshine and trusted him (almost) whole-heartedly. So when he asked you excitedly if he could show you something fun, you were quick to join him as he gently pulled you away from the beach where everyone else was playing and up a small trail. You didn’t even question it, especially since you could see his excitement nearly rivaling that of the shining sun beating down on the 9 of you. And when he pulled you onto the nearly car-sized rock, you assumed there would be more earth beyond it, just like the rest of the rocks the two of you had clambered across. So when the two of you came to the crest and you were met with the gorgeous view of the coastline to both sides and the blue ocean spanning to the edge of the earth, you screamed.

"We're just going to jump into the water," he tried to coax you in a sweet voice.

"What if we hit our head?"

"That's why we jump." He managed to pull himself out of your grasp so he could meet your terrified eyes with warm brown ones. "I'll be with you the entire way, it's fun. I promise."

"Nope." You declared and tried to back down the rock.

"Don't be lame (y/n)!" You heard Jeongin's voice scream.

"Then you get up here and do it!" You shouted back to the teen without looking to find him. You didn't hear a response, so you assumed he chickened. Serves him right.

During the whole exchange, you didn't notice Felix gently let go of you and only realized when you saw him with his shirt covering his face and his abs on full display. "Why are you taking off your shirt?" Your terror was forgotten for a moment as you became a little more than distracted by his toned body. Not fair, how was he able to make and eat all those brownies and cookies while still having a fit body.

"I'm not going to swim with my shirt on," he shrugged nonchalantly as he shook out his shoulders before extending a hand to you, "coming?"

"I can go first to reassure you it's not dangerous," you looked to see Jeongin's form climbing up the rock where you and Felix were standing.

You frowned at him, "you took great joy in pointing fake guns at Chan and Changbin." He merely shrugged. You were right.

"Well if both of you are gonna be losers, I'll see you later." He waved before taking a running jump off the rock. With a joyful woop and a cry of "cannonball!" You watched him sink to the ground before a loud splash was heard. There was only a second of silence before you heard his melodious laughter. Adrenaline junkies. The lot of them.

"Please?" Felix asked with puppy dog eyes that could rival Seungmin.

"No."

"For your boyfriend?"

"No."

"For your ray of sunshine?"

"No."

"For yourself?"

"Myself doesn't want it."

Felix let out a sigh of defeat, "all right.” He stepped away from the edge of the rock to hold your hand and guide you back down, grabbing his shirt in the process.

You didn’t miss the dejected lilt in his voice, though he was hiding it behind smiles and reassuring you that it was all right. You knew Felix had an adventurous streak and loved the thrill of doing something exciting, and he seemed so excited to show you. Felix would never purposefully do anything to harm you, and nobody’s gotten hurt yet (you noticed Changbin, Seungmin, and Chan playing around over there earlier). Plus, then you could rub it in Minho’s face. You needed to get even with him after he was a literal cat whisperer and was correct in pointing out the cat hiding in the bushes, even when you, Jisung, and Felix firmly believed against him. You steeled yourself and stopped in your tracks at the top of the small trail, causing Felix to turn around and look at you in confusion. “You’ll be with me the entire way?”

There was a pause of confusion before his face brightened with excitement, “we’ll jump together. I’ll make sure you’re safe, promise.”

“Okay,” you nodded timidly.

“But you’re scared of heights.” Felix frowned, he didn’t want to push you into doing something you didn’t want to do. Especially considering how tightly you were holding onto him earlier, he thought a rib was going to break.

“I trust you,” you added with a nod as you turned to pull him back up, “now let’s go before I change my mind. I really want to rub this into Minho’s and Han’s faces.”

Felix let out a laugh as his grip around your hand tightened, “let’s go.” Once again, the two of you clambered to the top of the rock and you refused to look down, opting to focus on Felix’s face (and abs) instead. “You’re sure?” he asked you one more time as he connected both of his hands with yours reassuringly, making sure to connect eyes with you and show on his face that he was 100% okay with you backing out.

“You can do it (y/n)!” you heard the reassuring cheer from Seungmin.

“You can’t do it (y/n)!” Minho antagonized immediately afterward.

“You can shut up Minho!” you screeched in response, not turning to look in his direction. “Just jump?” you asked for confirmation. You could feel your entire body trembling to the point where it was tingling, from your fingertips to your toes. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears and you felt like your vision was tunneling onto Felix. Were you really going to do this?

“Yes.”

The two of you jumped.

You hardly got a chance to scream before you crashed into the water with a great splash. You kicked and rose back up to float as you choked out some water and pushed your hair out of your face. Your hearing was a little fuzzy from the adrenaline rush plus the pounding from your heart only seemed to get stronger and louder, so you didn’t hear the excited cheers from the rest of the gang. But you didn’t miss the bright smile on Felix’s face who was still in front of you just like on the top of the rock. “Not so bad, right?”

“Never again.”

#stray kids #kimi's writing #skz #stray kids fic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids felix #stray kids imagine #felix #lee felix #felix lee #lee yongbok #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #felix lee x reader #reader insert #x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee felix fluff #stray kids beach au #skz beach au #stray kids boyfriend #skz boyfriend #skz fic #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #skz x y/n #skz x you

[bunnykawa]

i’m better than you! (oikawa x f. reader)

summary: If there was one thing Oikawa hated more than geniuses, it was your boyfriend.

a/n: thought about oikawa with a glock and it had me feeling some type of way. so here’s 6.2k words of what’s been in my head. also if you love iwa-chan, i’m deeply sorry. (btw someone replied to my last fic saying they were gonna move to the states with iwa-chan and...yeah that was funny cs this was sitting my drafts) 

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, implied character death, mentions of blood/gore, GUNPLAY!!, violence, noncon/dubcon/rape, little bit of exhibitionism?, mentions of cheating, brief mentions of stalking, abusive language/cursing

Oikawa didn’t know when it started.

It could’ve been the first time he ever saw you in school, so quiet and shy, with a pink tinge across your face when you glanced in his direction. Or it could’ve been the first time you spoke to him, with a little tremble to your lips as you struggled to form the right words that would leave a lasting impression. Maybe it was when he started noticing you were always attending his volleyball games, cheering on your school with a big stupid grin on your face.

Or maybe it was a mixture of all these little moments that made Oikawa feel what he felt. It didn’t matter what started it. All Oikawa really knew was that he was so in love with you. 

You ended up spending so much time together and blossoming such a beautiful friendship that others didn't expect to happen. It was a dream for him—seeing you smile and laugh, not caring about how you looked. And when you would tease him, it would make him laugh rather than upset him. Yes, he loved you for that. He loves everything about you. From the way you fiddled with your fingers when you had nothing else to do to your weird outbursts when you get excited. You were nothing like the girls who threw themselves at him in hopes of getting his attention. 

Often times, after you would hang out, Oikawa would pull down his pants in the privacy of his bedroom and desperately fist his cock until thick spurts of white would shoot onto anything that he was able to steal from your room from all the times he came over to your house. A picture, a shirt, his favorite pair of panties that smelled so deliciously like you, one of your socks that he wrapped around his length as he fucked his hand—absolutely anything he got his hands on that once belonged to you—was enough to have him dizzy with lust, desire, and love.

You became everything to him. If he was ever able to hold you close with his own fingertips, he would be able to die happily. He would even suffice with just a sniff of your hair while you’re actually awake instead of when you’re dead asleep in the middle of the night and he sneaks into your room through the window you always forget to lock. You couldn’t know that, though. Not like he would have been able to make a move on you so soon to make you completely his anyway.

But he would do anything for you. You were his best friend after all.

So when for the first time ever in your close friendship, you suddenly show up to his house unannounced with tears running down your cheeks and shamelessly throwing yourself into his arms, Oikawa was frozen in place for a second. 

“He cheated on me, Tooru,” you sobbed into his chest. Oh...all he could do was hold you close, bring you inside, and kiss the top of your head lovingly as your shoulders shook.

“It’s okay, Princess. Let it all out. I’m here,” he cooed.

And, wow...you smelled so good when you were awake. So sweet and pure. Absolutely beautiful...

So why the fuck would he cheat on you? 

Oikawa was angry. He was so angry he could laugh at how incredulous the situation was to him. How could he willingly treat you like shit?

After letting him take you away so easily, so Oikawa was forced to resort to pretending that he wasn’t devastatingly in love with you. After being forced to trust him with your heart, convincing himself that he would never hurt you. After having to deal with the fact that every single moment that you shared with Oikawa, that made him fall so deeply for you, was also shared with him. After hearing you scream his name at every single volleyball game you ever attended instead of "Go Tooru!"

It was true—you really were nothing like Oikawa’s fangirls. You didn’t love Oikawa like the fangirls loved him. Never yearned for Oikawa like how his fangirls did. 

You loved Iwaizumi, the former ace of Seijoh and the target of most of Oikawa’s sets. And you broke poor Oikawa’s heart every single time he witnessed a loving moment between you and Iwaizumi. He didn’t understand. He was taller, maybe even more cuter, just so much better than Iwaizumi. So why didn’t you choose him?

That’s how you ended up here; shivering in fear on Iwaizumi’s bed as he sat on the swivel chair he usually kept in his bedroom. Iwaizumi's hands and feet were tied together and the ghost of a blue bruise was forming on his right eye. The rest of his face was slightly swollen and there was a smudge of dried blood under his nose. Whenever you glance up at him, he was staring down at his hands in guilt, shame, and maybe anger and pain. But he made no move to try to get out of his restraints. It was no use.

Can we talk? Come over soon.

You received that text from Iwaizumi's number, assuming it was him. Anxiety-ridden and curious, you came to Iwaizumi's house, wondering what he could possibly say after hurting you so bad. The door was unlocked so you let yourself in, but you didn't expect a shirtless Oikawa—your best friend ever since you met him—to be sitting on the couch looking as relaxed as ever with Iwaizumi's phone in his lap. The little dry splatters of crimson liquid that kissed his skin were easy to notice.

As he led you to Iwaizumi's bedroom, your heart was pounding. And when you saw Iwaizumi in such a disheveled state, you were frozen in fear. Oikawa forced you to sit down on the bed, and you would've started screaming for help—you could've, but a metal handle sticking out of Oikawa's pocket caught your eye.

"God, I fucking hate you. Ever since you got with (Y/N), you’ve made it so hard not to rip your skull apart.”

Oikawa was standing a few feet away from Iwaizumi. A million thoughts ran through your head and every single one of them was wondering how this happened.

When did your best friend become so violent?

And when the fuck did he own a gun?

"I know. I made a goddamn mistake," Iwaizumi grunts in pain, "It's over now. We're not together anymore so-...so you don't need to be doing this dumb shit."

Oikawa laughs loudly, "That's not the point, Iwa-chan! The point is you hurt her." He's clenching and unclenching his fists in anger.

"I said I fucking know!" Iwaizumi barks. He was breathing heavily, his chest was rising and falling deeply.

Oikawa's face forms into a deep scowl. Suddenly, he pulls the black pistol out of his pocket and strikes Iwaizumi's cheek with it, making him jerk his face to the side, before pressing it against his temple. Blood drips from the side of his mouth from the sudden impact.

"Tooru," you whimper. You were shaking so bad, trying hard to stay as calm as possible in case he would try to turn the gun on you. The sight of blood made you feel sick. This whole situation was disgusting.

"You're lucky I haven't blown your brains out for stealing my girl. But hurting her, too? I should fucking shoot you right now." Maybe Iwaizumi was scared, just like you. One pull of the trigger and he would be gone in an instant. But he also looked so furious, with his jaw clenched and his eyes ablaze.

"Then shoot me, Shittykawa. Fucking do it," Iwaizumi taunts him, "Let (Y/N) see how fucked up you are. Traumatize her."

Oikawa pulls away and presses the pistol underneath his own chin in thought, before he carelessly waves it around as if it was just a toy. Every single time he moved, you jumped in your seat and your heart beat eratically. He was unpredictable. "Fuck that, I don't wanna kill you in front of (Y/N) yet. I'd rather blow her back out than blow your brains out first."

His words send a fearful shiver down your spine and makes your skin crawl. You’ve never seen this side of him before—never even expected him to be like this.

Iwaizumi growls, "You're sick."

"I'm not sick, Iwa-chan. I'm doing what's right for my girl," he said firmly. He spun the weapon between his fingers.

"She's not 'your girl.' She was never your girl!" Oikawa and Iwaizumi continued to argue, as if one of them wasn't holding a gun capable of killing everyone in the room instantly. “If this is what you consider right, then you’re just a fucking psycho!”

Why did you have to be here? In between this mess?

You cover your face with the collar of your shirt, crying and trembling with your heart threatening to pound until it jumps out of your chest and leaves you dying. The thought of someone just... getting their life stolen in the hands of someone else right in front of you was destroying your mind. Somehow, even if this was all Oikawa's twisted idea, it felt like it was your fault. 

"Tooru, I don't wanna be h-here. I... I don't want you to kill him..." you hiccup through your tears. Without you noticing, he slowly walks towards you so that he's directly in front of you, watching you break down. “I wan-wanna go h-home.”

"Put the fucking gun down, dumbass," Iwaizumi warns him.

Looking up from your shirt and desperately brushing away the tears as they fell, you're faced with the muzzle of the barrel pointed straight at you, only a mere few inches away from your terrified face. Behind the pistol was, of course, the man you thought would always protect you.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi snarled, "Don't you dare fucking hurt her. Are you crazy?"

"Shut up, Iwa-chan! Since when did you ever care about her like I do?" Oikawa snaps at him. You stay focused on the shiny barrel of the pistol.

You could die right now. Right in front of your ex boyfriend and your soon-to-be ex best friend. Bleeding with your brains on the mattress you once shared with the man you spent a whole year loving.

All because of Oikawa.

"Why, Tooru?" you ask in a cracked voice, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat.

Oikawa smiled at you, "I'm gonna make this right, okay? I won't hurt you. I just...follow what I say, okay, Princess?"

“I don’t-” you gulp hard, trying to find your voice, “I really don’t understand any of this. I-...I hate this. I don’t wanna die. Tooru, I’m so-...I-...nng?”

The muzzle is delicately pressed between your lips suddenly, nudging your soft lips apart and cutting you off mid-sentence. You inhale sharply as you stare into Oikawa’s brown eyes, surprised and terrified of his sudden action. It throws you off guard, your body going rigid at the thought of dying at this very second.

What would your parents do? Is anyone even gonna find you? Will Iwaizumi survive? Since when did Oikawa hate you so much that he wanted to stick a gun in your mouth?

“Suck.” 

Wait, what? 

The fear on your face is instantly replaced with bewilderment. Suck? What does he mean suck? You stare at each other, the confusion evident on your face, but Oikawa couldn’t stop smiling evilly. 

“Suck on it, Princess,” Oikawa coos. Is he being serious? Even Iwaizumi, ten feet away and tied up, is looking at him as if he was an alien.

“You heard what I said, (Y/N). I won’t hurt you if you listen to me.” When you don't move, he pulls the gun back only to cock it. Your breath hitches in your throat as he places it back on your lips. "Put those sweet lips around my pistol and suck on it. Make it pretty.”

“What the fuck?” breathes Iwaizumi, gawking at Oikawa’s odd demand. 

With the sound of Oikawa cocking the gun fresh in your mind, and fueling your desire to live, you hesitantly wrap your lips around the gun. You start sucking on it, flicking your tongue against the underside of the barrel and slowly bobbing your head around it as you maintain eye contact with Oikawa through your blurry vision. It wasn’t cold, surprisingly, but the feeling of the metal in your mouth made you wince. You’re squeezing your eyes shut, ignoring your tears and trying to think of the weapon as something else.

Oikawa says nothing, his gaze never leaving you while you take his gun as if it was his own cock. The only thing flashing through his mind is that this view is absolutely perfect. Your saliva leaves a thin coating on the barrel every time you pull your head back, just to nibble on the muzzle and swirl your tongue around it, only to let half of the barrel disappear into your mouth again—and it leaves a satisfied feeling in his lower stomach seeing you attempt to submit to him so you could live. 

Slowly, he starts pushing it deeper into your mouth, almost to the back of your throat, and you recoil before he can reach that point, grabbing onto his hand that was holding the gun with both of your weak hands. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts in a disappointed tone, “I wanna see you take in more, Princess.” Instantly, you force yourself to relax your throat to let him invade the rest of your mouth. You hold your breath as he hits the back. You’re still trying to bob your head along the weapon, relying on your nose to give you the air that you need.

There was something really fucked up about this whole situation. A red tint is flushed across your face when you glance over at your ex boyfriend, watching you intently. He’s disgusted, that’s for sure—but when you look up to make eye contact with Oikawa, he’s far from disgusted. And it’s easier to tell, because when you trail your gaze to his lower half...

He’s rock hard—bulging from beneath the fabric of his sweats, sweet smile on his perfect face, absolutely no shame in his erection from getting his pistol sucked.

Iwaizumi always knew he was fucking weird.

But there’s an odd, yet familiar sensation, in your lower stomach—a warmth that you know all too well that only happens when Iwaizumi touches you—that makes you clench your thighs and flutter your eyes shut. Looking up at Oikawa, there’s no doubt that he knows what you’re feeling. A small smirk finds its way across his lips. 

Iwaizumi didn't know you were fucking weird, either.

Yeah, that’s what’s fucked up about this situation. Why was this turning you on, too?

Oikawa suddenly pulls the gun away, leaving a thin string of saliva following your lips to the harsh metal for a second until it disconnects. He leans in, making you hold your breath, and his lips find yours.

Soft—that’s the first thing you think about when he connects your lips. “Kiss me back,” he murmurs. 

So, you do. He feels foreign to you, strange even, and you feel quite awkward kissing him when you never even thought about kissing him before. You were beyond flustered. Despite being in such a stressful situation...he’s gentle. The tip of his tongue trails along the opening of your lips. As a habit, you part your lips and allow him to enter your mouth. 

You’re still scared. Your heart is beating so fast. Your breathing is labored from the anxiety sitting heavily on your chest.  But Oikawa is strangely calm. In fact, if he wasn’t moving against your lips right now and lapping at your tongue with his, he’d be smiling and laughing at Iwaizumi’s face. I’m kissing your ex girlfriend!

And Iwaizumi couldn’t do anything except stare. 

You push your hands against his bare shoulders to pull away. “Tooru, stop it,” you gasp out, “Hajim- Iwaizumi is right there.” You didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t even wanna see him in the first place after coming home to find him with another girl.

With his face close to you, he harbors a blank expression. “So, would you rather...do something else?” You pause for a second, remembering that he has a gun that’s a few inches away from you, and you reluctantly nod your head. His expression changes—a small smirk and softer, relaxed eyes, an indication that he definitely has something else in mind. Regret starts to fog your mind, but you also can’t help but be curious.

“What are you planning, Shittykawa?” Iwaizumi asks in an irritated, strained tone. He even sounded a bit...jealous? Was he actually jealous? You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side to shoot Iwaizumi an evil smirk.

“I’m gonna fuck your ex girlfriend, Iwa-chan. Right in front of you.”

~

You never thought you'd be in this position.

It's hard to fully take in the situation when you literally feel like you're about to pass out from anxiety and all you want is for everything to be calm. At least go back to the way it used to be or how it should be—spending the rest of your time with Oikawa while eating tubs of ice cream and watching movies until you pass out together.

Instead, you're shaking like a leaf while straddling his thighs, fully exposed, soft skin pressing against his. Oikawa is completely bare, too, and while you always admired his athletic ability and perfect body, you didn't wanna see him like this. Not at all. Especially when his finger is still lazily sitting on the trigger of his pistol with it still pointed towards you, challenging you to do something so he can pull it.

It's that mischievous glint in his eyes that make you tense up the most. You want to be angry. You have every right to be, you think, but it's so difficult.

You're trying to cover up your body with your arms, holding onto the small amount of pride you have left, but it's no use when Oikawa is constantly looking you up and down. At the same time, you're trying to avoid looking down—his cock was sitting upright, hard and pulsating and...bigger than you thought he would be.

Way bigger.

"You can give it a little lick, Princess. If it'll make it easy for you."

You bite your trembling lip, shaking your head side to side, "I don't...I don't feel like it, Tooru." Oikawa moves to place his free hand on your waist, trailing his finger tips up and down, goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Just try it, baby. I won't bite," he muses, "Or would you rather I-" He picks his gun up higher. That small, annoying smile seemed to never leave his face because he knew the power he had over you at this moment.

"No," you quickly interrupt him. A chuckle vibrates in his chest at your response.

"I think I need to take care of you first, hm?" Before you can disagree with him again, he's sitting up to grab your hips. He flips you both over so he's above you. He opens your legs and lifts them up so your thighs are pressing against your stomach, exposing everything to him. You’re embarrassed, covering your face with your hands. 

“Let’s see your face, Princess. Don’t hide,” he insists, “You’re so pretty. I wish I could’ve seen you like this sooner.” You have no choice but to let your hands fall from your face. Oikawa looks so happy. In the corner of the room, Iwaizumi is muttering something under his breath with a flushed, bruised, and bleeding face. 

Oikawa runs his fingers along the skin of the underside of your thighs before placing his palms on each. He was still holding onto the weapon. It’s pressing against one of your thighs. Why did everything feel so cold? 

You flinch when he leans down towards your heat to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe up your slit. Oikawa stifles a groan at the taste of you. This was what he wanted since the first time he met you—an opportunity to make you his. He wraps his lips around the little sensitive nub at the top of your cunt and sucks on it. 

“T-Tooru,” you softly whine in uneasiness. You’re not sure if Oikawa can hear the distaste dripping at your mouth, but he keeps sucking and lapping at you as if you were the last thing he would ever eat. “I really don’t like this, Tooru. This is so embarrassing...”

He looks up at you, locking eyes with you as you silently beg him to stop. He removes one of his hands from your thighs to probe at the entrance of your pussy with his thumb. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear the familiar slick of your wetness and he spreads it around with the pad of his thumb. “You don’t seem to be that against it, (Y/N).” 

Of course you’d be wet—he’s licking and playing with your cunt. When would he understand that?

You gulp nervously, “I don’t want this, Tooru. Please.”

He hums to myself, seeming to be deep in thought as always, before he mutters, “Oh, I know what you want.” You’re confused for a second, but he moves his other hand to hold the pistol at your entrance and...what the fuck?

What the fuck?

“No! Tooru!” you gasp, moving to sit up. Oikawa quickly pushes you back down by your chest. He’s pushing the gun inside you, slowly, but surely—and you feel every single rough patch and texture on the barrel, breaking through the rings of your cunt. “No, no, no!” You’re trying to reach for him, to stop him before he continues, yet he’s able to hold you back with one arm and pushes the pistol inside your pulsing heat, stretching you with the hard metal. It’s an uncomfortable stretch because of how stiff it is. You can already feel the trigger guard pressing at your asshole from how much he filled you up.

You swear Iwaizumi whispers a “holy shit” from his place.

“This is what you wanted, hm? You wanted to get fucked by my pistol?” Oikawa coos in a sickeningly sweet tone. You’re shaking your head, bracing your arms against the bed sheets and chewing on your lip. No. This can’t be happening. “I saw how you reacted when I let you suck on it, Princess. Bet this sweet pussy was already dripping the second I put it in your mouth. I never knew you were so dirty.” He wanted to laugh. The view from between your legs was incredible. He’s glancing at Iwaizumi, who is trying very hard not to look.

“That’s not true!" you gasp. Oikawa continues to pump the gun in and out of you with slow and deliberate strokes. You hate that you feel every single ridge and dent. He leans down to give a few licks at your clit. You’re suppressing a moan in your throat, because this shouldn’t feel good. Every single time he snaps it back into you, you’re gasping for breath. The walls of your cunt are clenching around the thick barrel and it’s hot—you’re heating up from the unfamiliar object forcing its way inside you, forcing you to react. Forcing you to take it in even if your brain is screaming for mercy.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Oikawa mutters, “You’ve been mine since the beginning. I just let him have you.” This time, you’re biting down on your fist as he continues his assault. This wasn’t the Oikawa you met and became best friends with; this was an absolute monster. Maybe this was who he was the whole entire time—a liar, a master manipulator, a delusional psychopath who couldn’t understand the chemicals behind truly loving someone. 

But that doesn’t matter right now because fuck—the consistent strokes of Oikawa fucking you with his pistol felt good. The tiny moans you’re letting out proves everything, even as you try to hold them back. It’s so hard to stop your hips from bucking against the hard metal, even harder to stop that stupid fire burning in your pelvis. God, you’re about to fucking explode.

It doesn’t feel good, you’re trying to convince yourself. This is assault. This is rape. This doesn’t feel good. You’re not turned on, you’re just terrified if he pulls the trigger—

“Let it out, baby. The gun’s still fully loaded,” he whispers against your lips with a smirk, suddenly lifting himself up to press his forehead against yours. His words were ringing loudly in your ears, reaching every single nerve in your body. You part your lips in shock, your legs are shaking violently against your chest, and your eyes are finally rolling back into your head. A loud moan erupts from your throat, high-pitched like a scream. Quickly, he connects your lips and forces his tongue inside.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

It almost hurts with how tightly you’re clenching onto the gun still inside you. But it’s one of the best feelings that you’ve ever felt because you’re cumming. You’re actually cumming. Your pussy is hot with so much shame, but you’re still gushing juices, soaking Oikawa’s hand.

You’re cumming on a fucking gun.

The room is silent as you’re coming undone. Iwaizumi is dazed, obvious from the look on his face as he’s staring at the place between your legs and the wet spots soaking the sheets. Oikawa stands upright on his knees, and you notice that his pelvis is wet from your juices. How embarrassing. How utterly fucking embarrassing. He’s pulling the gun out of your cunt and raising it up to his face, examining how your cum is running down to the handle. 

Oh, that’s really satisfying. He could take a picture right now, but he didn’t want to waste anymore time. 

"Cumming just from my pistol?" Oikawa chuckled, "So fucking dirty. I love it. I could get you pregnant right now. Pump you up with my kids, would you like that?" 

“Fuck’s sake, Shittykawa. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Iwaizumi speaks up all of a sudden. Oikawa simply scoffs at the other man before pulling you closer to rest your thighs against his hips. 

You wheeze, completely out of breath, “No, Tooru. I’m done. I need to leave.” With the palms of your hands against the mattress, you weakly try to pull yourself up and away from Oikawa’s grasp. 

“I said I was gonna fuck you, didn’t I?” Oikawa hums, pulling you back against his hips and placing his tip at your entrance. You wanna move away, and you really try to by moving to scoot away from him, but you feel so weak. He’s still holding onto his disgustingly wet gun—wet from you. Has he even put it down at all? 

"I never break promises," Oikawa sighs, with a big smile on his face, "And you’re so beautiful, (Y/N). How did I ever stop myself before? I should've taken you even if that fucker was still with you."

You’re trying to protest. You’ve been trying all night, but Oikawa is so persistent with wanting his revenge—revenge that you never even wanted. But he’s also thinking that this is it—this is the stepping stone of becoming the object of your affection. Not Iwaizumi, the man you loved and who cheated on you. Not anyone else. Just your best friend.

His hands are gripping onto your hips as he arches your back for his hips to meet yours. It’s another uncomfortable stretch as he pushes passed the fleshy walls of your pussy with his throbbing cock. You’re already wet—he has no struggle sinking into your pussy—and the squelching sound your wetness makes and the sharp whine that you let out in response to his movements are music to his ears. 

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re tight, Princess. I thought Iwa-chan was fucking this pussy every night before.” 

It seemed like Iwaizumi wasn’t in the room at first, even if you were hyper-aware of that fact and it made your whole body become flushed. If you could hear his thoughts right now, he would most definitely be thinking that this fucking sucks. There’s a crack in your voice when you let out a low moan at Oikawa finally sheathing you on his cock. 

“How is it? Bigger than Iwa-chan?” he teases you. He pulls back only to dive deeper into your wetness. The feeling of his cock sliding against your walls makes you tremble. You’re so sensitive from how he fucked you with his gun less than five minutes ago, it’s a surprise that you haven’t passed out from the extra simulation he’s giving you. 

“Shut up,” you groan, looking off to the side. When Oikawa is comfortably settled between your folds, he leans over you to brace his hands on either side of your head. Instinctively, you wrap your small hands around his biceps as he slides in and out of you, squeezing desperately. 

Oikawa cocks his head to the side. “You don’t want to admit it, huh?” He suddenly snaps his hips sharply against yours, jerking your whole body upwards. “You don’t need to say it. I know how you feel, anyway.” It fucking hurts. His cock is longer, thicker, and going deeper than his gun was.

“How would you even know how I feel, Tooru?” you ask in a shaky tone. The anxiety never seemed to go away. Maybe you kept quivering because of your new-found fear of the brown-haired man above you, or maybe it was because you can still feel Iwaizumi burning a hole through you—he probably realized how much he hated you because if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be sitting tied up in his own home witnessing his friend rail his ex girlfriend.

Oikawa knew, though, that it was because you couldn’t fight the way your nerves were responding to how he touched you.

“Because if you didn’t like this, you wouldn't be under me right now,” he says lowly. With his hands gripping the sheets next to your head, he forces you deeper into the mattress with his body weight. The gun next to your head would’ve made you nervous, but you were too focused on the way Oikawa’s cock was drilling into your pussy like he was trying to leave an imprint of himself there for you to remember forever.

Every time he thrusts into you with all his strength, you’re gasping and moaning, gripping onto his biceps that flexed so deliciously as he filled you up completely. Your body was betraying you, writhing beneath him, basically begging for him to give you more. To make you cum one more time from just his cock.

“You really think this is funny, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi growls. You tense up at the sound of his voice—the anger dripping in his tone. “Basically raping my ex girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa purrs, “It’s so...satisfying.” He’s building up his pace, and pretty soon he’s pounding into you with such a force that you’re struggling to let out moans and end up up letting out breaths of air and whiny squeaks. “Especially since she likes it so much. Right, (Y/N)?” Your eyes are rolling back at the sensation—you’re not even trying to deny it at this point. No matter how fucked up or disgusting you look right now, you couldn’t escape Oikawa and you couldn’t stop your pussy from sucking in his cock hopelessly like he belonged inside you.

“I fucking hate you.”

The area on your pelvis is undeniably hot now. Sweat was appearing on your skin despite being fully naked and exposed to the cold air in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. Oikawa is consistently snapping his hips into yours while you’re trying to control your own hips from trying to buck into his. Trying to hold onto what little sanity you have left before you’re ultimately forced to let go on his veiny cock.

Oikawa is your best friend—was your best friend, you don’t even know anymore. Fuck, he’s evil, giving you a warm, welcoming smile with a gun laying next to your head and ravaging your insides at the same time. This isn’t normal. But damn did this feel so fucking good.

You’re crying now, the tears running down your cheeks in a steady stream. Fuck Iwaizumi. Fuck Oikawa’s gun. Fuck the insecurity, feelings of worthlessness, and guilt that you’ve had inside you for the past few weeks after your failed relationship, crying into Oikawa’s lap every single time. Fuck everything. 

Only his name is forming at your lips, accompanied by wails of pleasure. You’ve never felt like this before, not even with Iwaizumi, who you thought would be the only person making you cum until you’re stupid. 

“F-fuck, Tooru,” you manage to gasp out. All your muscles are clenching involuntarily. It only makes Oikawa groan, your pussy unbelievably squeezing even tighter around him, pulling him inside you.

“Are you okay, my baby? You gonna cum all over my cock?” 

Your head is spinning and you just want it to stop. All you’re thinking about is how roughly Oikawa is fucking into you and the pleasure he’s bringing in waves washing over you. He’s not even touching your clit—the base of his cock is just hitting your swollen nub every time he thrusts inside of you, letting tiny shocks run through you.

“This is my pussy now,” he growls, “I’m gonna fuck this. I’m gonna stretch out this little cunt every day and you’re gonna let me, right? You’re gonna let me fill you up with my cum, too?” 

Let go, every sensor in your body is screaming.

"C'mon, Princess. Tell me. Tell Iwa-chan how much you love my cock inside you. Tell us how much you wanna be filled with my cum," he grins as he shoves his length into you roughly. He nudges your head to the side and attaches his lips to the soft skin on your neck, sucking and biting at the area. You arch your back off the bed and you don't hold back anymore—you're chanting his name, finally, begging for him.

"Tooru-mmm, please," you plead, "Fuck me, please! I'm...I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum, Tooru!"

Then Oikawa lifts himself up, bracing himself on one of his arms before bringing his gun against your lips again. You don't hesitate to stick your tongue out, letting it in your mouth this time. God, he could fucking cum at the sight of you willingly sucking on his pistol, swirling your tongue over the metal surface. He won't shoot, he just wants to see you submitting to his gun and his cock like he's a king.

It's taking everything within you to not pass out from violently twitching and spasming on his cock, letting your juices squirt all over him once you open your mouth to cry loudly. His gun is still pressing into the base of your throat, so your scream drawls out into a choking noise. Oikawa is letting out a string of curse words—your juices are coating his skin and spraying all over his cock.

Your thighs feel so sore, and you're a sputtering mess as he pulls his gun away from you. It's covered in your saliva. Oikawa is lifting himself up, panting heavily, observing the erratic movement of your chest and the red flush of your body. He doesn't bother to pull out of your convulsing cunt. Why are you still trembling like that?

But it's okay. Oikawa is so happy, so pleased. You were such a good girl—he knows for sure that you finally accept him and want him.

“Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sang with delight in his tone to catch Iwaizumi's attention. Damn, you completely forgot he was still there.

Oikawa is finally upright on his knees, leaving you sweating on the bedsheets. Iwaizumi looked up, cringing in disgust and fueled with anger and envy from watching Shittykawa himself take your body so relentlessly as you were cumming beneath him. Oikawa lifts his arm, pointing the shiny metal weapon towards the other man in the room. He was still throbbing inside you, enjoying the feeling of you still twitching gently around his cock from your orgasm. With half-lidded eyes, you look up at him weakly, suddenly admiring his toned, muscular body and the sweat glistening on his abs. You're not sure if he came inside you, but the wetness escaping your hole and the feeling of his length twitching, too, is more than enough proof that he probably did.

"What do you want now, you fucking asshole?" Iwaizumi snarls.

The words that come out next are so snarky, filled with hate and arrogance. "Just wanted to let you know that I’m better than you," Oikawa sneers, "And I don't shoot blanks."

He finally pulls the trigger. The sound of a gunshot is piercing the air and Oikawa jerks slightly from the recoil. Then it's completely silent. Your thighs are still shaking, you’re still struggling to find your voice, and your brain seems to be focusing through the haziness. He leans down to give you the sweetest kiss, as if to say that everything will be okay now. The smell in the air was suddenly pungent—a mixture of sweat, sex, gun powder and...blood? Holy shit.  You're screaming now.

Holy shit, Oikawa.

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