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streamafterlaughter · 2 years

Text

New Kid

Chapter V: Lazy Sunday

MASTERLIST || chapter IV || playlist

summary: Eddie slept over last night, and you two plan to spend the day together, one good day this weekend where things don’t go horribly wrong

tags: eddie munson x reader, afab!nb!gn!reader, MORE ANGST, fluff, teasing, flirty eddie, mutual pining, smut tease (minors DNI), possible secondhand embarrassment warning lol, shared trauma, weed (assume all chapters have weed involved)

a/n: IM SORRY FOR ALL THE TEASING i love that pre dating butterflies shit okay i’m sorry!! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. now for the fun part ;)

Eddie’s POV

I definitely could have kissed them then, Eddie kicks himself for not making a move. Your lips were right there! Less than an inch away! But, they also could have kissed me…

You exit the bathroom, wearing a baggy Looney Tunes shirt, and once again no pants. It’s like you’re trying to kill him. He’d be happy to go though, if it meant the last thing he got to see was you. You crawl back into your spot on the bed, cocooning yourself in your many blankets. Eddie does the same, his feet brushing yours briefly. It isn’t late, and Eddie isn’t the least bit tired. He doesn’t want to sleep, fearing all the minutes he’d miss where he could be talking to you instead. “I had a lot of fun today.” He finally says, lying on his side to face you.

“Me too. It seems we’re cursed to have wonderful days end in fire, though.” It’s dramatic, but the only two days the two of you have been together have both ended less than amicably. He’d do it again and again if it meant he got to spend his days with you.

“Psh, serves us right, worshiping the devil and all.” He makes you laugh, and he wants to record it, play a tape of it on loop forever. Without thinking, Eddie reaches a hand up to your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before resting his palm on your cheek. He feels you warm under his touch, watching your eyes close as your mouth curls into a smile. He’s about to move his hand when you turn your face into his palm, kissing the heel of his hand. Eddie’s stomach flips as your kiss sends goosebumps up his arm. Eventually, you both fall asleep like that, breathing in unison.You don’t wake up screaming this time.

—

Your POV

Today, you wake up first. Sundays always make you sad, signifying the end of your weekend, a day for finishing homework and cramming for midterms before all your tests this week. You open your eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight coming through your window. Your back is to Eddie, and you feel his arm wrapped around your waist, his breathing even. It’s the most comfortable you’ve let yourself be with someone, despite neither of you being capable of telling the other.

You don’t want to wake him, but you feel your stomach rumble, a lack of lasagna in your stomach.

You turn around slowly, sure to keep his arm in place around you. He’s sound asleep, his lips slightly parted, face peaceful. You could watch him sleep all day if it weren't for your stomach slowly eating itself from hunger.

Finally, Eddie shifts onto his back, his arm abandoning you in the process. He stretches it above his head, opening his eyes and immediately meeting your gaze. “Good morning.” He says, a tired rasp in his voice.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log. So did you, it seems?”

“Yeah, through the whole night and everything.” Thank god, you think, you’re not sure what you would’ve done if you’d woken Eddie up screaming again.

“You talk in your sleep.” Eddie says, shifting into a sitting position.

“You’re lying.” No he’s not, you know you do. It’s usually something completely irrelevant, but that doesn’t stop the fear of not knowing what you said with Eddie in your bed.

“I’m not! It was cute.”

“What did I say?”

“A lot, most of it nonsense. Something about lemurs at one point.” Relief floods through you, grateful you didn’t out yourself in your sleep. “You said I was extremely sexy.”

A lump forms in your throat, your mouth is suddenly dry, while the rest of your face breaks into a sweat. You blink rapidly, attempting to free the tears welling in your eyes. He looks at you closely, as if studying your reaction, before letting go a sudden cackle. “I’m kidding!”

You release the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and nervously laugh with him. “You’re awful!” You accuse, swinging your feet onto the floor. “I’m gonna take a shower, you feel like going to breakfast?”

“Sure you’re not sick of me yet?”

“There is nothing to get sick of.”

“Psh, whatever, go shower, I’ll be here, and totally not thinking about you in there.” You snap your head to look at him.

Eddie reaches over to your bedside table, picking up your beaten copy of The Bell Jar. He opens it to the first page before glancing up at you, frozen in place while you process what just came out of his mouth.

Eddie doesn’t explain himself, but lifts his hand and shoos you away. You don’t know what to say, what the fuck could you say?! You stumble into the bathroom, clicking the lock behind you.

—

Eddie’s POV

He pushes your comforter off of him, revealing the tent in his briefs. Shit, I guess I took my own joke too seriously. He should probably take care of it before you come out, because seeing you dripping from the shower definitely won't help. Being the genius that he is, he knows not to go to town on himself in your bed. It would make a mess, and with his luck you’d catch him jerking it and never look at him again.

Instead, Eddie slowly gets off your bed, lighter on his feet than any ballerina to ever exist. He tiptoes to the bedroom door, locks it, then gently sits on the floor in front of the bathroom. This way, he thinks in his horny boy brain, he’ll be able to hear you turn the water off.

Eddie breathes deeply, making sure he can hear the water behind the door. Sure enough, the spray of the water is clear as day. Underneath it, he can even hear you singing Hit Me With Your Best Shot at almost full volume. He decides it’ll be a silent session, knowing the thinness of the walls works both ways.

He works quickly, feeling the ache in his groin grow stronger with the sound of your voice so close. He pulls his underwear down just enough to free his dick from the confines. He spits in his hand, slightly disgusted with his desperate need for relief. He banishes the thought from his mind, grabbing at his cock with his now slick hand. He grips it securely, moving his fist rapidly to the sound of your voice.

He lets his mind wander, closing his eyes as the feeble attempt at release continues. He pictures you as you must be, completely naked, under hot, running water. You’re covered in a soapy lather, smoothing it into your skin. He pictures himself with you, undressing himself before entering the shower, hugging your naked body to his as the water bathes you both. He pictures kneeling before you, taking you in his mouth while your hands knot in his hair. He envisions detaching your shower head, bringing it to your clit to watch you squirm while he busies himself kissing your neck. Desperately, he imagines bending you over, fucking you while the water hits your back, while you fight to keep your footing as he makes you come against the tile.

His thoughts escape him, growing less and less appropriate as he brings himself to climax. He shoots his load into his hand while groaning quietly, and immediately wipes it on the inside of his shirt.

—

Your POV (occurring simultaneously with Eddie’s)

You try to steady yourself, looking at your reflection in the small bathroom mirror, taking deep breaths. Thinking about me? In here? Is he serious? He can’t be serious. You go around like this for a good two minutes, justifying his words to yourself. Finally, you decide to relieve yourself of some stress. You’ve earned it after spending the entire weekend with Eddie and not jumping his bones.

You shed your clothes, dropping them in the hamper beside the sink. You wait for the water to warm, singing Pat Benatar’s Hit Me With Your Best Shot, a go to showering tune. Once in the tub, you free your hands to roam your body, reaching your fingers between your legs to feel the wetness that had accumulated long before showering. You lean against the cold tile, bringing your middle finger to play with your clit, rubbing eager circles, letting your imagination run wild.

You imagine Eddie in your bed, reading your book. You picture exiting the bathroom, forfeiting the towel as soon as he looks from the book to you. You stroll over to him, still dripping wet from the shower, completely naked, and crawl on top of him. Because it’s your daydream, of course he welcomes you, taking you by the waist and sitting you on his lap. You can almost feel his hard cock under you, and you stifle a moan into your shoulder, hoping Eddie can’t hear you sinning from the bed. The daydream continues until you've grown desperate, yanking your shower head from the wall and bringing it between your legs. Finally, your knees shake as you orgasm, thinking of Eddie’s head between your thighs as you do. Once you compose yourself, you shut the water off, feeling somehow much dirtier than when you got in.

—

Eddie’s POV

Eddie scrambles from his spot on the floor when he hears the water turn off. He grabs his jeans and pulls them on, jumping as he struggles to get them over his sweaty legs. He turns around to find you, wrapped only in a towel, watching as he fumbles for his belt.

“I uh, forgot my clothes.” You say, not meeting his eyes. He cant help but feel flattered by your flustered reaction. There may be hope for him yet.

“Who needs ‘em.” He lets himself flirt with you, accepting that if you wanted him to stop, you’d tell him.

You hide your face from him, not willing to let him know his comment makes your stomach flip “Uh, we do, if we’re going to breakfast.” You pull a U2 shirt your dad got you when he saw them live, and a pair of acid wash distressed jeans. You throw a second shirt, a Blondie one you bought too big, at his chest. “For your modesty.” You laugh as he looks at Debbie Harry’s face, then back to yours.

“Seriously?”

“You’re the one with their tape in your car!” Before he can argue, you skip back to the bathroom to change, and probably splash some cold water on your face.

When you come back, he’s put the shirt on, and it hugs his chest and arms with just enough give that it accentuates his lean figure without looking too tight. “Looks good.” You mean it, and he thanks you with a stupid grin.

—

Your POV

“C’mon, I’ll drive!” You shout, scooping your keys from the hook at the front door. “Bye, parents!” You call, running out the door with Eddie right on your heels. In the car, you plug in your Judas Priest tape, something you only remembered you had seeing the poster on Eddie’s wall. Eddie busts out his best air guitar to Breaking the Law, and you chime in with the best metal rasp you can muster. There I was completely wasting, out of work and down All inside it’s so frustrating as I drift from town to town, Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die, So I might as well begin to put some action in my life, You know what it’s called… You reach the diner, a humble building on the outskirts of town. “We stopped here on our way in, I assume you’ve been here?”

“Believe it or not, I haven’t. I never really come this way.” The diner is close to the edge of town, something Eddie only ventures out of to visit War Zone when he makes enough for a new leather jacket, and that’s in the other direction.

“Well, their pancakes are to die for.”

The waitress at the host stand is a frazzled middle aged lady, wearing an apron covered in coffee stains. The diner bustles before you, women speed walking from table to table, serving mugs of coffee and plates of steaming eggs and bacon. The waitress greets you with a big, fake smile, and leads you to a booth in the far corner. “What can I get ya started with, lovebirds?” She asks, her pad and pen at the ready.

“Oh, we’re not-“ Eddie starts, but you interrupt, “We will have two coffees, one black, one with room for milk, and two short stacks of your chocolate chip pancakes. Oh! And two sides of bacon, please.” You hand the menus back to her, and she nods, walking off to the kitchen. “Trust me?” You reach your arms across the table, and Eddie takes your hands and nods.

Eddie’s POV

“So? You ask, stuffing the fluffy pancake in your mouth. Eddie makes a scene of cutting into his own slowly, bringing it to his lips, and chewing it carefully. He closes his eyes, as if cutting off one of his senses will amplify the others. Once he swallows, he opens his eyes wide, rolling them back into his head. “Fucking delicious.”

You beam at him, grateful to watch him enjoy himself, and pour maple syrup on your bacon. Eddie gives you a look of feigned disgust. You wave a sticky strip at him. “Try it!”

He obliges eagerly, taking a bite from the bacon still in your hand. You wait for his response, and after a minute of deciding, he says, “I’ll never doubt you again.”

For a while, you eat in silence, each in your own head as you watch the people bustle around the restaurant. When you’ve finished half your plate, Eddie speaks. “What are we doing today?”

You look up from your plate to meet his gaze. “We’re doing something right now aren’t we?”

“I mean, after this. You got any plans?”

“I’m at your disposal, if you’ll have me.”

Eddie can’t help the laugh that leaves his throat. If only you knew how badly it aches to think of going home. Not after the weekend you’ve both had. “There’s a decent record store downtown, if you’re interested?”

You nod your head vigorously.

When the check comes, you both reach for it. “Hey, you drove.” Eddie insists, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. You go to protest, but he holds a hand up to shush you, pulling two crisp 20s from the center fold, placing it under his empty mug. You cross your arms, twisting your face into a pout. “I am an empowered person, I can take care of myself.” You joke.

“I totally agree with you. But I also want you to save that money for the dime you’re about to drop on music.” He won’t hear your rebuttal, so you slide out of the booth, and he rises behind you.

—

Your POV

Eddie directs you through Hawkins, letting himself slip into tangents involving the places you pass. “And there is where I spent the night for public intoxication,” He points out your window to the Hawkins Police Department. “Chief Hopper stayed with me that night. I was only sixteen, walking home from a party, and he was out patrolling. He called my house, but no one came to pick me up. Dad was on a bender, mom was… god knows where.” You listen to every word as he glosses over his troubled adolescence. You feel deeply sad for him, and yearn to go back in time and tell your parents to move to Indiana four years earlier. “Here we are!” You pull up to a plaza, containing a pizza place that’s closed on Sundays, a nail salon, and the record store, aptly named Record Scratches. Eddie holds the door to the shop for you, the bell ringing lightly as you enter.

Inside, the walls are lined with shelves and shelves of records, both pristinely cling wrapped as well as old and dusty. Through the store speakers, you can just make out the words to Close To Me by The Cure: I’ve waited hours for this, I’ve made myself so sick, I wish I’d stayed asleep today, I never thought this day would come. The kid at the counter cant be older than sixteen, dressed in a denim jacket layered over a Tears for Fears shirt. “Hey, Liam!” Eddie greets him, and he returns the hello with an excited wave.

“Hi, Eddie! Welcome back.”

“This is Y/N, I’m sure they’ll become a frequent patron of yours.” You give the kid a wave that he returns. “Let me know if you need help with anything, though Eddie could probably help you better than I could.” He says, then returns to taking inventory of the box of vinyl on the counter.

Eddie migrates to the metal section, while you linger around the punk records towards the middle. You brush the covers of Bad Brains, Black Flag, The Clash, and Dead Kennedys. At the end of each aisle are cassette tapes of more music, perfect for playing in your car. You decide there that you’ll get Eddie something, preferably that you like and have confidence he’ll also enjoy. You look over to him, engrossed in the art of a Motörhead record. After plenty of consideration, you choose The Runaways self titled record, remembering how you would play You Drive Me Wild in the car on your way to your guitar lessons, giving yourself something to work towards: You know when you’re close, you really turn me on. That’s why I want you so bad when you’re gone, Yeah! Come on, come on and take me home, Please stay with me, and don’t you leave me alone… You decide to grab Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love on vinyl as well, currently only possessing it as a cassette tape.

—

Eddie’s POV (simultaneously with yours)

He settles toward the back of the store, where the metal records collect dust in a dark corner, isolated even in his favorite place. He wants to get you a record, something that proves he’s got good taste, but will still impress you. He looks up at you, across the store, digging in the punk records. He watches the way you smile when you find a record you’re looking for, inspecting used ones for scratches. Selfishly, he wants you like this all the time. A lazy Sunday spent with you at a diner, a record store, or even on the couch. He scours over the collection, barely bigger than his own. A few jump to mind: Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Metallica, Judas Priest. He knows you like those bands, though, leaving very little to his imagination. He wants to wow you, for some reason. He finds you difficult to read, still not able to tell how you feel about him. He goes over every shelf, it seems, inspecting records for tracks that trigger something within him, that compel him to purchase it for someone like you.

He’s about to lose hope when he spots it, tucked away in the back of the wrong lettered section: Metal Health by Quiet Riot. He recalls the lyrics to Love’s A Bitch fondly, Love’s got me by the ass again, I’ve been in love since I don’t know when, I keep running and I don’t know why, Love’s given me a crock of lies, out of breath and I’m out of time. He tucks the record under his arm, and decides to also grab himself a copy of Autoamerican on his way by the alternative section, swearing not to tell you.

—

Your POV

“I got you something.” Eddie says as you exit the shop, and you look at him with disbelief.

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I got you something, too.”

Eddie gives you a smile, curing you of any nerves. “On three?”

“One”

Two,”

“Three!” You both pull records out of your bags. “Autoamerican? I have that already.”

Eddie does a double take. “Shit.” He switches the record for Quiet Riot’s, handing it to you. You hand him the Runaways album, and take yours from his hand. The cover shows a man in a straight jacket and a mask that looks like a jail for your face. He inspects the Runaways record, flipping it to read the tracks on the back.

“Thank you,” you whisper it, almost not wanting him to hear you.

“You wanna go home and listen?” Eddie asks, an excited smile spread across his face.

“Yours or mine?”

“Whichever,” he shrugs, thinking home is wherever you are. You decide to go back to yours to switch into Eddie’s van before going to his.

—

Eddie’s POV

At the trailer, he opens the door to the van, then his front door for you. “Player’s in my room.” He points loosely to the back of the trailer, grabbing his supply of weed off the kitchen counter to bring with him.

He enters the room, eyeing as you slip Metal Health from its sleeve, placing it gently in the player. He can’t lie to himself, he’s ecstatic you chose to listen to that one first.

The first track, named for the album, starts at a low volume, but he watches you crank it as he lights a joint, banging your head to the beat.

Eddie doesn’t know what comes over him, but he takes you by the hand, dragging you to the middle of his bedroom. He twirls you like he would at a prom, grooving in time with you. When you’re facing him again, he brings the joint up to your lips and watches you inhale. Your face is flushed, hair still windblown from the drive over. The chorus kicks in, Bang your head, Metal health’ll drive you mad, and you jump on top of the bed, bouncing up and down as you continue obeying, whipping your head around like Eddie did the night of the Corroded Coffin show.

He watches you in awe, admiring your lack of inhibition, truly enjoying yourself. You’ve got the brightest smile on your face as you point at Eddie, telling him to join you on your makeshift stage.

When the guitar solo starts, Eddie whips out the trusty air guitar, hopping on the bed with you. As the song fades into the next track, the two of you flop down on the bed, laughing and out of breath.

“What are we doing?” Eddie yells over the music.

“Enjoying ourselves!” You shout back, flinging his arms around his neck, bringing him into a bear hug. He hugs you back, no hesitation about it, and holds you there for a minute, relishing in the smell of your hair as it tickles his nose.

When you loosen your grip, but you hover in front of his face, your own inches away, arms still clasped around him.

“That’s not what you meant, was it?”

“Not exactly, but you’re right. I have been enjoying myself.”

“But is that enough for you?” You reach over to turn the music down so you don’t have to shout. Your eyes are filled with concern, and his heart melts.

“More than enough. Is it enough for you?”

You shake your head briefly, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this weekend.”

“Do tell.” His heart aches with anticipation.

You’re silent for a second, considering your words carefully. “I didn’t come here planning to make friends. I wanted to focus on school, get the hell out, and then worry about my social life.”

Eddie nods, feeling his heart crack as he looks at you.

“But,” You pause, adjusting your grip around his neck, “that’s not what happened. I met you. And I’m so glad I did.”

Eddie breaks into another huge smile then, moving his arms to wrap around your waist as you both shift in the bed. He speaks finally, “I’m so fucking glad I met you.” He’s had it with the subtleties, he moves one arm from your waist to tuck a flyaway behind your ear, focusing on your ear instead of your eyes.

—

Your POV

The warmth of his hand heats your face, surely making it redder than it already is. You look at him, at his lips: pink and so unbelievably soft, his pupils large making dark brown eyes almost black. The dimple in his cheek grows as he meets your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks you, barely a whisper.

“How badly I want you to kiss me.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and you look away. It’s the first time you admit it, and you feel a weight lift off your chest. Your heart beats faster, and it’s so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can hear it too.

“Yeah?” Eddie cups a hand under your chin. He doesn’t seem fazed by your words. In fact, he seems elated to hear it, quirking an eyebrow at you, almost skeptical.

You take his hand from your face and move it over the left side of your chest. “Does it feel like I’m joking right now?”

He looks from your face to where his hand sits, right on top of your breast with your full consent. The look of shock is quickly replaced with one of mischief. As if you couldn’t get any warmer, the words leave his lips so close to yours that his breath is hot on your face. “Kiss me first.” You shake your head as if the entire scene is taking place in your brain rather than right in front of you. He leans further into you, taking your face back in his hand. He’s an inch, less than that, away from your lips, you can almost taste him. Your eyes close slowly, and you pucker your lips as subtly as you can manage… and nothing happens.

Instead of connecting your lips, he widens his smile, watching your reaction to his teasing. You open one eye to catch him gawking at your face. “What the hell?”

A cackle breaks the tension as Eddie throws his head back. It shatters you, watching him find amusement in your vulnerability. So much so, you decide then and there that your seven minutes in Heaven are over. He’s still laughing as you mumble “I gotta go.” shoving off of Eddie’s bed to go look for your shoes. You stifle your tears as your chest heaves, threatening to burst right in front of Eddie. “Wait, Y/N, I didn’t mean—“ You slam his bedroom door behind you and make a run for the outside.

“Wait, hold on!” Eddie calls for you, but it’s too late. You’ve slipped outside, abandoning the record in the player, storming out of his trailer with a slam of the door.

“Y/N!” Eddie calls from the porch as you stomp out of earshot. It’s pouring now, and you totally forgot you switched cars, so you’re stuck walking home, a direction you barely remember when you’re not crying.

You faintly hear Eddie calling for you, and he’s sure to at least follow to the edge of the park, but you don’t turn around. You’ll walk the block for an hour in the rain, maybe, clear your head. Was this all a fucking joke to him? Did he not feel anything for you? He did a great fucking job pretending.

There’s about an inch of water in your shoes as you exit onto the main road. Maybe a nice truck driver will pick you up, whisking you away from this Hellish town with its charming, beautiful, and deceitful boys. You don’t bother to hide your tears anymore, no one can see them in the rain.

“Y/N! I’m sorry!” Eddie’s voice is closer now, but you don’t dare turn around until you feel him tug on your shoulder, forcing you to face him.

“What the fuck was that?” You whip around to look up at him, the rain dripping from his hair into his face, soaking into his clothes the same way it must be yours. “That shit’s not funny.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to hurt your feelings. I just—I was so surprised.”

“What? Surprised that I actually believed you’d kiss me?! How fucking dare I, honestly?” You spit your words with a harsh venom behind them. “With you looking at me the way you do, touching me the way you do. Forgive me, Eddie, for thinking I had a sliver of a chance with you.” It feels like you’re losing your mind, having deluded yourself into believing Eddie felt the same way you do. “You know what, you’re a fucking freak.” You both flinch at the word when it leaves your lips, and you instantly regret it. It’s a low blow, and one you’ve been on the receiving end of plenty of times. “Eddie, I—“

“No, it’s okay. I deserve that. I am. What type of person falls for someone over the course of one week? Who else laughs when they finally get the chance they’ve been wishing for since day one? I wanted to kiss you. I want to kiss you now. But, I can’t.”

“What the fuck does that even mean, Eddie? It sounds like you don’t want to kiss me.”

“It means once I kiss you, that’s it. No one’s left wondering what could have been. I have been wracking my brain trying to figure you out, the best way to do it, and I’ve come up with nothing. I’ve had so many chances and none of them felt good enough. I wanted to make it special, and when the opportunity finally revealed itself, I fucked it up!” He flails his arms above his head in exasperation, shouting over the sound of rain on the roofs of the trailers behind him. “I was so desperate to get this right that I made it so much worse.”

“And you don’t think spending this whole weekend together; comforting each other through being beaten up, my nightmares, my grandmother, staying up all night to talk, falling asleep in each other’s beds— you don’t see how special any of that is? I had so many opportunities to go home, Eddie. I could have bolted after the party Friday, could have sent you home when I saw my grandmother. You could have kicked me out after my episode, told me to go fuck myself and sleep on the couch. Not fucking once did I want to leave you until you laughed at me like that.” Your voice breaks, and you release a chest rattling sob into the air. “Why would you laugh at me like that?” The question barely escapes before you let yourself cry.

Your question hangs over his head like an anvil, guilt clouding his vision. Eddie covers his face with his hands, half to stifle a cry of his own, half to wipe the rain from his face. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I was so… shocked by what you said, I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. No one’s ever told me they want to kiss me and meant it, especially someone I want to kiss. I guess… I didn’t believe you.” The words break your heart into even smaller pieces. You dare take a step closer to Eddie, quietly so he can’t hear you do so over the rain. You drag your feet closer to where he stands, eventually your toes only an inch apart. He notices, looking up from his feet to squint at you through the storm. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“I guess it’s okay.” You swat the tears from your eyes. “You should probably grovel, though, just to make sure.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He drops to his knees, soaking them through with mud as he clasps his hands together in prayer. “Please, Y/N, forgive me for all I’ve done. I live to serve you and you alone. What shall I do to make it up to you?”

You bend down to his eye level, cupping his chin in your hand. His skin is wet under your equally rain soaked touch, your thumb slipping quickly over his bottom lip. “Whatever you feel is appropriate.” You tease before standing again, walking past him back to his trailer.

Before you can get far, he grabs your wrist, using you to pull himself back up. In one swift motion, you’re spun to face him, and he closes the space between you, finally connecting his lips to yours. It’s as if the storm has stopped, as if the world freezes on its axis in the brightest sunspot, your whole body melting with his touch. You’re numb to the rain, only concentrating on how soft his lips are on yours, the way his fingers grip your hips, the way he tastes like weed, cigarettes, and mint. You wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his wet hair, and he lifts you off your feet, making sure your lips stay securely connected.

“I should get you home, huh?” He says, ending the kiss much to your disapproval, that stupid smile back on his face as he puts you on the ground. You give him a pout in response, and he plants a second, too-quick kiss on your lips. “C’mon, we can throw your clothes in the dryer before you leave.” He holds out his hand for you to take, and you do, following Eddie back into his trailer.

chapter VI

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enluv · 3 years

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level #14 – the big speech

wc; 926!

genre/warning(s): written content, angst, cheesy tooth rotting sweet fluff, beomgyu is so cute pls :(

Beomgyu's nerves heighten as he watches you walk down the long red carpet into the Gala's home building. He'd shown up twenty minutes earlier with Yeonjun and Soobin, Hueningkai and Taehyun having already started hosting a few hours before. He knew you'd be there but he was still in awe at the way you'd walked out wearing the purple dress your best friends had chosen for you. They'd told him before hand what you'd be wearing so it was easier to spot you when he gave his speech.

Speaking of his speech, it was long. The longest thing he'd ever written probably, but every word meant so much. His time was short and if he was going to confess his love for you, he might as well go out with a boom while doing it.

Hueningkai's tall form walks towards him holding a mic, he'd just finished interviewing the last round of celebrities arriving and was now moving to the stage. Food would be severed shortly and then the moment Beomgyu had been preparing for would come.

"You look constipated," Hueningkai jokes trying to get his friend to laugh but to no end doesn't it work.

"Do you think she hopes we don't run into each other? She looks really happy with Eric and Sunwoo."

Hueningkai sighs, as his attempts fail at making Beomgyu's mood brighten. "Honestly Gyu, I think she's just trying to have a good time tonight, after everything that's happened, you're probably the last thing on her mind, but that's why you need to tell her how you feel. It'll get her to see you like she once did and things will be okay again."

The seating arrangement wasn't necessarily picked by anyone. The company hosting the gala had made a pre-planned seating chart and to his dismay, Beomgyu and his friends sat right next to your table.

Dinner was awkward to say the least, stolen glances and burning stares from the other really topped it off, but thankfully it went quickly, and soon came the winners speeches. Eric was up first, second was Felix, after him Chanhee, then Hyunjin, and finally, Beomgyu.

"...well it was a ride, but thank you to those who supported me throughout it all! This one's for you, my lovely supporters!" Hyunjin's final words fly past Beomgyu's head as he's quickly handed a mic.

"It's your turn Beomgyu. Good luck!" Taehyun ushers the boy on stage as quickly as possible and with his cards in hand he walks slowly towards the black podium in the middle.

His sticky hands set down the cards as neatly as possible while he tries to remain focused on the most important target in the room, you.

"Hello, sorry for the nerves, feeling a bit of pressure after all those amazing speeches before me," he jokes lightly, "I'll be honest, if you'd told me that I was going to be standing infront of all of you, here at the iconic Gaming Gala a year ago, I'd have laughed in your face and went on studying for midterms. Yet, here I am today, a year later thriving in my field and fully appreciative of that. I want to thank everyone who pushed me to follow my dreams, and kept me on the right track. My tomorrow brother's who continued to push streaming onto me even when I continuously said no, my manager who puts up with my "brat-like" attitude as some reporters would say, but most importantly there is someone here tonight that I'd like to thank profusely, and that's my girl," his hand points outward at you and the crowd surrounding him begins to murmur as all eyes turn to you, seated smack in the middle of your cheesing best friends.

"Y/N, without you there would be no me. If you hadn't left I wouldn't have been #1 and if you hadn't come back I would have never dmed you about getting that spot back, but most importantly if you hadn't shown me love and compassion I'd be lost in fame and money. You are the reason I want to continue doing what I love most, you are the reason I smile, the reason I go out and face this crazy ass world. I know that a lot has happened between us but I'm glad it did because if we never met, I'd be stuck and alone, never finding my purpose, which is to be my happiest in life, with you. I really do love you."

The crowd around you let's out a course of "awe's" and "wow", and Beomgyu knows he's done good when your eyes roll and you smile up at him from your seat at the table next to his. You may still have a lot to talk about but he knows things will be okay now.

As he walks off the stage, you're standing to the right waiting for him. His once confident demeanor falters, as he now has to face the reality of if you'll take him back into your life or not.

You awkwardly give him a wave and his heart beats faster. Maybe he should turn the other way – no he needs to do this, even if you tell him to get lost forever.

"Hi," he breathes stopping only a few feet in front of you.

"Hi gyu, heard you love me or whatever."

His smile widens at your words. He really does love you and if he has to spend days, weeks, months, even years reminding you he will.

"Yeah I do love you."

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Extracurricular

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You go out to unwind from your schoolwork but can’t seem to escape a certain professor’s attention.

Note: Pinched nerve don’t care. I’ve written this as I’m laying on a heating pad and praying for absolution. Hope y’all enjoy because by the time this goes up I’ll be at work and hating life.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Midterms were finally over. It had been a long two weeks; all nighters, energy drinks, and stress headaches. Now you were ready to forget it all in a single night.

Your dress was a little too short and a little too tight. A pink number with large sequins. It looked straight out of the nineties; an appropriate choice for your girls’ night. A downtown club was hosting a ladies night with a retro theme and you felt like the spice girl you’d once idolized. And a little buzzed.

Lexi had invited you along with her roommates, Cece and Rima, to dance off the dread of your results. Study had been half the battle, it was still to see if it had done you any good. In your Twentieth Century Lit class, you were certain you’d fallen on your face. Figuratively, though you had done so literally your first day. It had set a precedent for your apparent cluelessness.

You followed the girls inside after your hand was stamped and the flashing lights mingled with the thumping music and filled your body. You were enlivened by the bodies already dancing and the voice that underlined the melody. A single pre-drink and you were already feeling tomorrow’s hangover.

You joined the chaos of the dance floor as Lexi searched her purse and came out victorious with a handful of bills. “First rounds on me!” She sang, “How about it girls? You ready for more?”

“Holy shit, Lex,” Cece giggled, “Another night with the sugar daddy?”

“Don’t call him that,” Lexi retorted.

“Well, what would you call him?” Rima countered. “You fuck him, he gives you money.”

“Shut up before I shut you up!’ Lexi whined.

“Hey, both of you,” you warned and grabbed Lexi’s hand, “And stop waving that around.”

“Oh thank youuuu,” she clung to you, “I’ll have a vodka soda.”

“Wha-- no.”

“Do they have whiteclaw?” Rima asked.

“Ew. don’t,” Cece wrinkled her nose, “I’ll have a vodka too.”

“Fine, vodka cran!” Rima nearly hollered. The girls must have started well before you showed up to their dorm.

You huffed and took the fistful of bills. You sidled through the crowd of pairs and groups writhing and waving to the music. Another drink would make you less aware.

You stepped up to the bar and found yourself nearly bowled over by another patron as she stumbled away with her drink. You knocked the arm of a man leaned against the bar top and turned to apologize.

“Oop, sorry, I didn’t--” You froze and blinked several times in disbelief. The familiar face grinned in recognition. “Professor Drysdale? What are you--”

“I didn’t know it was ladies night,” he spoke over the music, “Had my last exam and thought I’d unwind but--” He looked around. “I didn’t take you for the club type.”

You squirmed as his eyes strayed from your face and you got closer to the bar. “Well, not every night,” you chuckled.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he raised his hand and waved to the bartender. “Took me a moment, to be honest.”

“Ahh,” you watched the bartender near and he bent to hear your order. You got yourself a gin after your last sour experience with vodka.

You watched the bartender work, unsure of what to say to your unexpected company. His remark stuck in your head. You often sat in his class in your favourite loose cardigan or a sweat with fraying cuffs. Massachusetts was growing colder by the day and only the alcohol and your lack of a damn kept you warm that night.

“So, I guess you’re here with friends,” he said.

“Yeah, just a few of us.” You said as you rubbed your sweaty fingers on the bills. The bartender pushed your drink across the bar but Professor Drysdale was quicker than you as he held out a fifty.

“My treat.” He said.

“Oh no,” you tried to grab his hand but he waved it at the bartender again. “You don’t need to--”

“Come on. Save your money. You college kids need all you can get,” he insisted.

You smiled awkwardly and carefully took two cups in each hand. You lifted them as he watched you. You peeked over at him and found his eyes glued to you.

“Thank you, professor,” you said.

“Ransom,” he corrected you, “I’m not much of a dancer… but I don’t mind the music. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”

“Maybe.” You turned and narrowly missed another collision.

You followed the maze of bodies back to your group and doled out the drink. Your fingers were left sticky with soda and you took a deep gulp of your own. You tried not to think of the odd encounter with your professor. It wasn’t too unusual you spotted the occasional faculty downtown; students often stuck to the campus bar. Even so, you were surprised at his interest. In class, he barely seemed to recall your name, even if you were the only one who raised your hand. Well, maybe he had also indulged a little too much.

You forgot your paranoia as soon as you finished your drink. You set aside the plastic cup and lost yourself in TLCs greatest hit. You’d regret it in the morning when it mattered.

🥂

After the second drink, came the third, the fourth, and fifth that tasted more like a double. The lights blurred in your vision and the music made your head swell delightfully.

The night had worn on and as a slow R&B tune came on, you weren’t quite sure what to do. Cece had long ago found a guy to hang off and Rima and Lexi were all too happy to start dancing with each other. You hiccupped and contemplated a break against the wall.

You were startled as you felt a hand on your back and kept from your retreat.

“Need a partner?” Ransom’s voice flooded into your veins like the alcohol; warm and disorienting.

“Huh, oh, no, it’s--” You giggled bashfully. “That’s fine.”

“Come on,” he pulled you against him, your back to his front, “Wasn’t too long ago I was out here with all the coeds.”

“Professor--”

“Ransom,” he purred in your ear. “I like this song.”

“I don’t think--”

“Don’t think then,” he said sharply as his arm snaked around you and urged you closer. He leaned in and spoke in your ear. “Seeing your ass in that dress makes me wonder why you ever cover it up.”

“Pr--Ransom, please, I--”

“It’s just a dance, sweetie,” he grinded into you and you felt a twitch in his pants. “Just like that.”

He guided your drunken body against his as his fingers danced along the hem of your dress. The music swept you up as you dizzily surrendered to him. Behind the haze, you knew it was wrong, but you knew you were strong enough to resist. And part of you, didn’t believe your professor was groping you.

“Mmm, you’re so sweet,” he groaned, “That’s it,” he rubbed his crotch against you, “Let me feel that ass.”

“Professor,” you breathed as one his hands caressed your thigh, “You shouldn’t--”

“Wish you dressed like this in class.” He slithered, “Nice little short skirt. You can sit in the front row and give me a little peek.”

“Stop,” you hissed as your vision swam and panic rose in your chest, the gin making you unsteady and uncertain, “Please.”

“Please,” he echoed, “I love to hear you beg me, sweetie.”

“I-I-I--” you stuttered stupidly and finally tore away from him. “I have to pee.”

Your ankle bent in your heel and you hurried past him. You nearly fell as you batted away his hand and fled to the restroom. You stopped by the doorway at the edge of the floor and looked back. Ransom watched you with head tilted and a smirk on his lips, unbothered by the drunk horde around him. You turned and quickly shielded yourself with the door.

You took a breath and ambled forward to stare at yourself in the mirror. Were you that drunk or was your professor really trying to get in your pants?

🥂

When you returned to the girls, Ransom was gone. You didn’t look around for him much, afraid you might find him. You finally tore Cece away from her partner as Lexi began to lean heavily. You took her under the arm and realised that every one of you were a mess. It would be a parade of fools trying to get home.

You got your jackets from the check and went out into the bitter cold. You shivered as you left Lexi to hang off Rima and you swayed as you hailed a cab. A yellow taxi pulled up and you opened the door as you ushered the rest of the girls in. A hand rested beside yours atop the door.

“Looks like there’s no room for you,” Ransom said and you flinched as you looked at him.

“I can get in the front,” you argued weakly.

“Ride with me.” He raised his hand to call another cab, “You don’t wanna overcrowd the car.”

“No, I can--”

“It’s cold!” Cece pulled the door from your grasp and it slammed, nearly knocking you over. “Driver, Western Building on campus.”

“Wait--” The driver pulled away without pause and you stumbled off the curb.

Ransom caught you and pulled you back up. He wrapped his arm around you as another taxi appeared.

“You’re pretty fucked up, sweetie, I can’t have you riding alone,” he opened the door and bent to usher you inside. You struggled but not much, hauling yourself across the seat as he followed closely. He gave an address you didn’t recognize as he shut the door.

“What-- where--” You touched your forehead as you leaned back against the seat. “Professor--”

“I like how you call me that,” he reached over and rested his hand on your leg, “Don’t worry, sweetie, better you come with me than some creep.”

You grabbed his hand and tried to push it away but it didn’t budge. He squeezed your thigh and got closer. His other arm went around your shoulder and drew you against him.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re tired. Just close your eyes.” He hummed. “I’ll get you back safe.”

You shook your head but your eyelids drooped against your will. The dancing, the gin, the weeks of sleep deprivation piled atop you and dragged you into a blurred stupor. You felt detached from the world as it passed outside the car windows and suddenly a door opened and closed. Your body was moving but not of your own volition.

Your vision cleared for a moment and you looked up at a large house with immense windows. You blinked and you were inside. You sat for a moment as Ransom moved around and you were lifted up. You were cradled in his arms as he carried up a flight of stairs and through the unfamiliar hallway. You bounced atop a mattress with a jolt.

“Wha--” you quivered and tried to sit up. Your head spun as your lashes fluttered.

You sat dumbly, barely able to hold yourself up on shaky arms as Ransom undressed. You babbled as he revealed his muscled chest and thick arms. He was entirely unlike the first, and only boy, you’d been with. He was a man.

“I’m drunk…” you slurred, “I can’t… you’re my--my--”

“That’s right,” he reached into his jeans pocket, his fly open, “I’m your professor,” he pulled out his phone and neared. He nudged you so that you fell onto your back and pushed your legs apart. You looked up at him as he snapped photos of you. You raised your hand to try to hide yourself. “If anyone were to find out you tried to seduce me, and for a better grade, you’ll be expelled. A star scholar like you, untouchable for any university in the country. Pity.”

“You can’t.” You murmured as you closed your legs and tried to sit up but found it almost impossible. “You…”

“I will and if you try to blow the whistle, I’ll do it first and I’ll be a whole lot more convincing than the girl everyone saw piss drunk tonight.” He sneered, “Now open those legs for me, sweetie.”

You didn’t move. You hugged yourself with your arms as you were caught in a heavy tide. You were terrified, worse; helpless. You listened to the rustle of his clothing and the mattress dipped by your feet.

His hands began at your ankles and glided up to your knees. He pushed your legs apart as you held them together. You were forced to relent as he pinched you viciously and your muscles quaked. He moved between your legs and rubbed your thighs as your skirt rode up. He pressed two fingers along the crotch of your panties.

“What’s the point of these in a dress like that, huh?” He began to tease you through the fabric, “What’s the matter, sweetie? You scared?” He slowly pulled aside your panties and touched your folds, “Am I your first?”

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You whimpered as he flicked your clit.

“Maybe not your first but definitely the best,” he purred, “Ah, ah, you’re already wet. Kept you waiting all night, didn’t I?”

“Please, I don’t want to--”

“Shhh,” his fingers slipped down to your entrance and he traced it carefully, “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you want,” he poked his finger inside of you, “But your body does.” He added another and glided in and out of your easily. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“P-p-pl--” Your voice fizzled as he curled his fingers and pressed the hell of his hand to your clit.

Your eyes rolled back and your eyelids shut. You were lost in a daze of pleasure and confusion. You were trapped but that coil winding inside you didn’t want to escape. The knot of nerves tangling tighter and tighter overpowered your fear and had you bracing the mattress. Your legs bent without a thought and your back arched. Ransom hummed as he guided your body closer to the edge.

Your nails curled into the duvet and your toes clenched. You tried to breathe, the taste of gin still on your tongue, and cried out instead. You shook as you came but it didn’t feel like your body. You felt as if you were floating above as you were used by this man. Your legs went limp and slid straight as you panted wildly and the world was specks of light as you opened your eyes.

“Teacher’s pet, aren’t you?” He taunted. “You always have the answers.”

You focused on Ransom as the room remained a fog behind him. A halo seemed to limn his figure as he drew his hand from your cunt and licked his fingers. He delighted in the taste and planted his hands on the bed and bent over you.

“That smug little smile when you’re right. You’re always right.” He hissed. “I had girls like you in my classes. Always thought they needed a good fuck.”

You touched his chest and pushed pathetically. He chuckled as his nose brushed yours.

“You know, when you bend over to get a pen from your bag, I can see straight down your shirt,” he winked, “It makes me wanna bend you over myself. You know how hard it is to teach when you’ve got me all riled up?”

“I didn’t-- Never…” you murmured, your head lolling as you found it hard to follow his words, hard to keep from drifting away entirely.

“I was going to wait until the break… Tonight was unexpected but not unwanted,” he uttered as he reached between your bodies. He dragged his tip along your folds. “You should know what you do to me.”

He stopped at your entrance and slowly pushed inside. Your mouth formed an O and he groaned with each inch. His arm came back up and hooked under your shoulder as he sank to his limit. You moaned at how full you were. Your walls hugged him and you grasped his shoulder as you tried to pull away from him.

He grabbed your jaw and held your head straight as he glared down at you and jerked his hips.

“That’s all you, sweetie,” he muttered, “Does it hurt you like it hurts me?”

He began to thrust and your legs bent around him as you tried to ease the pain. Since your regrettable high school sweetheart, you hadn’t done anything more than some foreplay and that had been shameful, if not forgettable. You closed your eyes, your head swirled and your body bounced against the bed as the darkness embraced you.

When you opened your eyes next, your head hung to the side as Ransom held himself over you, arms straight as he rutted. His gaze clung to the joining of your bodies and the slick noise of it. His hair dangled down from his head as he watched himself fuck you, slamming harder and faster each time as if driven by the sight.

You winced and let out a moan. It hurt, delightfully so, but in the back of your alcohol-laced mind, you knew it was wrong.

He lowered himself slowly, bending to take your nipple in his mouth and suckle as he continued to rock against you. His thrusts grew sharper as his groans sent a rumble through your chest. Your thighs tingled and your core thrummed as you were overcome by your drunken ecstasy.

Your voice filled the room as you came again and you didn’t realise it was yours. Ransom drew back and sat up as he lifted your pelvis, crashing into you as hard as he could as he bared his teeth. His eyes were smoky as he grunted and his motion turned frantic.

“I’m gonna- ahhh,” he took several long thrusts as he flooded you with his orgasm.

He kept going until the sensation made him spasm and he hung his head. He reached down to spread your cunt and admired it as he slowly slid out. As his cum leaked from you, he scooped it up with his fingers and pushed it back in, spreading the rest along your folds.

“Shit,” he said as he grazed your thighs with his nails, your eyes closed and consciousness fading with his voice, “Such a good girl…”

🥂

You felt as if you were buried in sand when you woke up. The world was too bright and yet too dull. The night before was blank, a void, and your surroundings were a greater mystery. The framed manuscripts, the antique side table with a twisted vase atop it, the pristine white walls. You groaned as every move made your head throb.

You rolled onto your back and gurgled. Your stomach stirred and you struggled to keep it from erupting. You turned your head slowly as your hand felt along the arm beside you. Ransom Drysdale, your Lit professor, watched you as you stared back confused. His bare torso made your cheeks burn and the dress bunched up around your waist added to your embarrassment. How had this happened?

“What-- Professor--”

“If I spank you, would you scream that for me? ‘Professor’?” He mocked.

“I don’t--” You sat up and it sent a strike of pain down the back of your skill, “What happened? How--”

“Do you want to see the pictures?” He sat up and his hand tickled along your back. “I think you might be able to guess without them.”

You blinked at him and drew away from his touch. You turned your legs over the side of the bed and took a breath before you stood. You pulled your dress up over your arms and tugged the skirt back down as you searched for your panties.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asked.

“I have to get… back to campus,” you gripped your head. “Where’s my purse?”

“Relax,” he cooed, “I’ll drive you back…” You heard him stand and turned as he approached you, naked. “But I think that we should get cleaned up first.”

“I--We--”

“A nice hot shower,” he licked his lips and leaned in, “Or do you like walking around with me all down your leg?”

You reeled and your stomach churned. You covered your mouth and shoved him away. You ran for the small door on the other side of the room and thankfully, found a toilet within. You wretched into the bowl until your body ached. You sensed his shadow behind you.

“You just make sure you wash your mouth out, sweetie,” he stepped past you and cranked the shower on, “I didn’t get a chance to play with that yet.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #fic #dark!fic #one shot #dark fic

1K notes · View notes

stickyy · 4 years

Note

I loved what you wrote about student! college! aizawa,if it's not too much trouble,I would like to read a second part but it contains a sub!aizawa,dom!reader,mommy kink and pegging please. I have to take advantage of the fact that you are the first blog with dark content that I see that accepts pegging,an opportunity that I will not miss,but if it gets complicated for you oh you don't like it,you can reject my request.

DISCLAIMER: always ask for consent first!

warnings: DUBCON, sub!aizawa, edging, verbal abuse, bondage, pegging, gn!reader but light mommy kink is used in reference to, praise kink if you squint?, slightly unrealistic depictions of pegging, reader is fed up but that doesnt excuse their actions :P

word count: 3489

notes: sorry for the delay, i hope u like anon! :D there should always be more pegging fic out there

part 1 here

EXAM SEASON

Finals season is quickly approaching, sending the entire campus into a frenzy, students scrambling like displaced ants trying to finish last minute assignments, novel-esque essays, merciful extra credit projects. The workload takes its toll on everyone, even the star students. You found Aizawa in even worse moods more frequently; a schedule consisting of all nighters spent studying old material followed by early classes and a job on the side, he was absolutely exhausted. You sometimes sneak a peek over at him during class to see his head bobbing slightly, bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open as he fights sleep. A small part of you feels bad for him; he’s a diligent student, and you were sympathetic to his exhaustion.

You still hate the asshole, though.

You found yourself snagged in a twisted sort of arrangement with Aizawa after midterms. There was always a half-assed attempt at tutoring you before giving up and cramming his cock down your throat or deep inside your cunt, leaving you sore and dripping with his cum, all the while spewing insults targeted at your intelligence (or lack thereof). In exchange, he’d complete your assignments and allow you to copy his answers on exam days. Ignoring the situation is where you make peace with yourself; you feel used, but you also have no other option if you want to pass this class.

What you hate the most is the way you roll over and take it. You’re more than just a hole to fuck, you know that, but you’re helpless against his searing abuse and venomous scowls. Even when you try to be nice, it only makes him crueler, your soft pleas and offers of peace an invitation to tear you down and make you cry. You want to fight, to claw and tear into him out of spite. You don’t want to feel so weak anymore.

So, you decide to do something about it.

It’s late, campus illuminated by street lamps and headlights of cars passing by as you make your way into the dorms. After your first encounter, Aizawa began inviting you back to his room instead of the library, deciding to “study” in his personal space as opposed to possibly getting caught in the library with his cock down your throat. You didn’t complain, but it’s especially convenient today, with what you have planned. Knocking on the door softly, you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, anxious for what’s to come.

“Open,” he calls out from inside, prompting you to enter. You pass through the messy common room he shares with his roommate and enter his bedroom, opening the door quietly. Aizawa’s room is tidy compared to the outside, bed made, tousled only where he sits with his laptop, typing.

“You’re late,” he squints at you from behind the screen, shutting the device. “Not surprising.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, placing your book bag on the floor and taking out the very heavy law textbook (that you hadn’t bothered to open since midterms). You take your seat next to him and open to the most recent chapter you read over. He’s silent, only speaking to answer your questions as you focus on the text. You can tell he’s sleepy, his responses slurred and delayed, and you glance over to see him dozing off. Late study sessions and Aizawa’s recent exhaustion meant more often than not that he fell asleep before tormenting you. The first time was startling, but you learned that it was a regular occurrence.

You prefer Aizawa when he’s drowsy. His usually hard features were softened, quiet snores rumbling from his chest. His dark hair messily framing his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed, arms folded over his chest. He’s good-looking, no doubt. If his personality matched, you could see yourself falling for him.

His eyes open, shooting you a questioning look, and you duck your head back into your textbook, embarrassed at being caught staring.

You keep quiet for another 20 or so minutes, waiting until he’s truthfully asleep and not just resting. You have to be careful not to wake him, as you aren’t keen on being reprimanded for what you're about to do.

Once you’ve deemed it safe, you stealthily open your bag and retrieve the small plastic bag stored inside. With the help of online shopping, you bought some handcuffs, lube, a dildo, and a harness. You aren’t all into pegging, but this was less about the sex and more about proving yourself, forcing him to respect you, in some perverse way. You retrieve the cuffs, gripping them carefully as to not make any sounds. This is the most crucial part; as long as you could get him restrained, you’d could dish out any revenge you desire. You slip off of the bed and tip-toe, almost comically, around the other side of the bed. You test the waters, snapping your fingers near Aizawa. He doesn’t stir, chest rising and falling with his deep breathing.

You steel yourself with a deep breath; this was your chance. You make quick work with the handcuffs, gently yet hastily clicking the metal around one wrist and looping the cuffs through the headboard before securing his other wrist. A grin spreads across your face; you’re thankful he’s such a deep sleeper.

Now that you had him where you wanted him, you were paralyzed by the sheer amount of possibilities. You climb over him apprehensively, hovering over the unconscious man, who only shifts minutely. The peaceful look on his face puts a small pit in your stomach; this was wrong… right? Technically, this was assault. You frown, a small chill running down your spine. Is this what you had become? It was almost enough to convince you to stop, but you force yourself to remember the first time Aizawa had his way with you, the way you choked and gagged and had to hide your face until you could find a bathroom to wipe off the dried cum that adhered to your skin.

This was his fault; he made you like this.

“Fuck it,” you say aloud, bracing yourself before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking, hard. He awakes with a surprised gasp, wrenching his head away from the assault.

“The fuck?” He bites, eyes drowsily scouring the situation. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just waking you up,” you smile, releasing your grip. “It’s kind of boring watching you sleep. I thought we were supposed to be studying.”

Aizawa gives you an agitated look, disoriented as he tries to move, only to find his range of motion limited. “You fucking handcuffed me?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe you didn’t wake up,” you chuckle, sliding your hands under his shirt and running your hands over his taut stomach. He keeps his eyes on you with an expectant expression, waiting for an explanation.

“You know, I like you so much more when you're asleep,” you continue, idly tracing patterns on the skin of his abdomen. “No insults, no curses, no glaring. You’re pretty handsome when you’re not being a total douchebag.”

“Let me go,” he ignores you, yanking the handcuffs. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s pretty funny, actually. You’ve spent all semester treating me like shit, and for what? All I’ve done is be nice to you, even after you call me names and abuse me. It hurts my feelings, you know? It’s not like I’m trying to fail this class, I just needed a little extra help, and you take advantage of that every week. So I do think this is pretty fucking hilarious. Maybe you’ll see just how great I feel when you bully me.”

If looks could kill, your heart would have stopped right then and there. Rage burns behind his glare when he meets your eyes, still struggling to break the cuffs. You’d never seen him like this; at his worst, he seems moderately annoyed in your day to day. Despite being an insufferable asshole, he always manages to keep a cool air about him. Never giving anyone much of a reaction, he’s only nasty when he desires. Watching his face take a red tint and his eyes narrow in frustration send waves of satisfaction rippling through your chest.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he grits out, “If you let me go now, I’ll forget all about this. I promise that you don’t want what’s coming for you once I get out of these cuffs.”

He did have a point; you had no idea what you were doing. That wasn’t going to stop you, though.

“Aw, it’s not so fun now, isn’t it?” You coo at him in a demeaning tone, pouting dramatically. Your wandering hands slid to his crotch, where you could feel his length stirring curiously. You bark out a laugh.

Pulling down his sweats and boxers, your mouth waters at his hardening length. Normally, your stomach would drop at the sight in anticipation for physical abuse you were about to receive. But this? This was different; knowing that you’re the one in control is absolutely captivating. You take his cock in your hands, slowly working your hand up and down. He stays silent in defiance, steady in his glare in an attempt to intimidate you. It would work, usually, but with his hands bound there was nothing he could do to you. He’s betrayed by a pleased noise that slips from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you like this? You want to be taken advantage of, is that it?” you taunt, basking in his agitation as you speed your hand up, thumbing the pre gathering on the slit.

“Watch it,” is his only response, voice dangerously low. He keeps quiet, not willing to surrender to the reactions you’re trying to draw from him. It’s a challenge, if anything, and you weren’t going to back down..

He’s fully erect in no time- you’ve spent enough time as his cocksleeve to know exactly what he likes and responds to. His eyes fall shut as you squeeze tighter, hips canting up into your hand, chasing his own release. You keep it up until he gets a little louder, close to release, and you pull your hand away, watching his dick twitch helplessly.

“Fuck- why’d you stop?” he asks groggily, opening his eyes.

“You didn’t think that I was just going to let you cum that easily, did you? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” you shuffle off of the bed, smiling over your shoulder as you hook your thumbs in the band of your leggings. You make a show of sliding the material down over your ass, purposefully leaning over and arching your back. You hear a pleased growl from the bed, causing you to giggle as you pull your underwear down as well.

“You could still let me go,” he offers, giving you a once over as you climb back over him, “I could forget about this if you let me fuck you.”

“Nice try, but I’ll be the one doing the fucking tonight,” you grab your bag from the floor, retrieving the lube but leaving the dildo and harness obscured in the bag. You squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers, causing Aizawa to give you a puzzled look.

“You don’t need lube, you’re always so wet for me,” it’s more of a question than an observation, since your previous trysts never included anything but his spit and your own juices. You just give him a smile before nudging his thighs open with your own, trailing your hand slowly beneath his balls, settling in between his ass and your lubed fingers circle the muscle there. The look on his face is priceless, absolutely shocked at the prospect of you inside of him. He thrashes in protest but you’re steadfast, pinning his hips down with your other hand.

“You can’t be serious,” his voice is alarmed, almost erring on the side of anxious, “you’re dumber than I thought if you think you’re just going to get away with any of this shit.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you sing-song, using your dry hand to tug playfully on the cuffs, “You’re a little tied up at the moment.”

“I’m going to beat your cunt up when I get out of these,” it’s a threat, and you ignore the way your stomach flutters at the words, eyes trained on his as you push two fingers inside.

He grunts, his face scrunching up, almost cutely, at the burn of the stretch. You expected him to be tight, but given how tense he is, it’s difficult to push all the way inside. You take it slow, savoring the pained expression on his face; it’s a stark contrast to his cocky demeanor when you’re being subjugated to his abuse. His chest is heaving, a lovely red flush spreading across his skin, eyebrows knit tight, lips bitten red- you’re obsessed. You move your fingers in and out slowly, scissoring just gently enough not to seriously hurt him, but enough to watch him writhe. His dick twitches despite (or maybe due to?) the pain, still red and dripping.

“This is priceless,” you laugh, “if you wanted to get fucked so badly, all you had to do was ask, you know? Mommy would’ve taken care of it for you.”

“Mommy?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you’re insane.”

Any further insult is cut off with a sharp gasp, eyes shooting open in shock, and you know you’ve found it.

You stroke his prostate with a heavy hand, grinding your fingers into the spongy spot inside of him as he struggles to breathe, back arching deliciously. You can’t help but smirk; you kind of get it now. If this is how tormenting you makes Aizawa feel, then you understand why he was so cruel.

“Fuck,” he chokes on a whine that sends heat down your spine, . Your wrist is beginning to strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s cute; he’s writhing, his hips seeking the stimulation he was previously avoiding as he moans openly, loudly. His cock is an angry purple, pre pooling on his stomach from where it’s leaking. He looks like he’s close, eyes beginning to roll back when you pull your fingers out, laughing as you ruin his orgasm for the second time.

“Please,” he’s breathless, a betrayed look on his face as his hips rock on nothing, desperate to cum.

“Begging already? We haven’t even gotten started yet!”

You reach over into the plastic bag, pulling out the dildo and harness. You can clearly see the fear on his face this time as he moves to sit up, the fog of pleasure clearing quickly.

“Wait,” panic sets in his voice yet again. If you were him, you would be scared too; the toy is thicker than the two fingers you used, something you chose purposefully. You stand and slip on the harness, ignoring his attempts to reason with you.

“What’s wrong? I thought I didn’t know what I was doing?” you ask innocently, forcing your hips between his legs and drizzling some lube on the toy, warming it up with your palm.

“That’s the fucking problem, you idiot, you don’t,” he seethes, pulling on the restraints again, “It won’t fit, and you’re not sending me to the hospital.”

“Exactly, I won’t send you to the hospital. Mommy’s gonna take good care of you,” you coo, settling between his legs.

“Just let me go,” it’s the first genuine plea you’ve heard from him, the sincerity pulling your attention to his eyes where you see a look you can’t quite place. He looks… afraid? Remorseful? It’s enough to give you pause, equal parts consideration and schadenfreude. You settle for leaning forward and placing an uncharacteristically saccharine kiss on his forehead, your humanity getting the best of you.

“All you have to do is relax, okay?” you whisper, resting the tip of the toy against his entrance. He shuts his eyes in anticipation, resigned to his fate, and you push in gently, watching his hole swallow the silicone. The way Aizawa contorts, back bowed to scoot away from the pressure of the toy is salacious, drawing a moan from deep within your chest. He can’t get far due to the restraints, and he lets out a soft sob at the stretch of the toy, face scrunched tight. You push slowly until you bottom out, your hips pressed firmly against his, grinding in small circles to alleviate your own ache. He exhales shakily, unaware that he was holding his breath.

“See, it’s not so bad right?” you soothe, rubbing your thumb against his hip soothingly. “You should be grateful; I’m so much nicer than you are.”

“Fuck you,” it comes out weaker than intended, his voice strained as he tries to adjust to the girth of the toy.

You pull out slowly, experimentally, watching his stomach clench from the sensation of silicone caressing his insides. His dick gives an interested twitch, despite his demeanor, and that’s the invitation you need to start moving. It’s a little awkward at first, but your enthusiasm combined with the size of the toy more than makes up for your inexperience. He’s breathless, still uncomfortable, but you can see his body slowly relax as he tries to make sense of the sensations coursing through his body.

“You like this, don’t you?” you dig, eyes transfixed on his face, “Is that why you're so mean to me? You strut around like an asshole, just to hide the fact that you’re just a little bitch?”

You focus on angling your hips, searching for his prostate again, and when you find it, you commit to fucking him. He’s loud, stray tears sliding down his face as his body struggles to comprehend both the pain of the stretch and pleasure of the abuse.

“Fuck, you’re cute like this,” you sigh, “you’re meant for this, aren’t you? Meant to get your ass bred by your Mommy? You’d be so much more tolerable if you were sweet like this all of the time.”

His dick jerks violently but he shakes his head with a weak ‘no’, too lost in the sensation to retort any further. You’re soaked by now, the pressure of the toy on your end combined with the power trip pushing you to the edge. It takes all of your self-control, but you suddenly stop, unwilling to let yourself finish so quickly; there’s still unfinished business here.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” it comes out before you can even really think about it, but the words hang heavily in the air.

“Huh?”

“You’re never nice to me, so if you want me to even consider letting you cum, you better start kissing up.”

He hesitates, but when you shift slightly and the blunt head of the toy rubs against his prostate, he changes his tune very quickly.

“Fuck- you’re cute, ‘s the reason why I’m mean to you. So cute when you’re about to cry-” you give him a particularly hard slap on his ass and he winces, muttering a quick apology.

“You’re pretty even when I’m not fucking you, too,” is all you get, but it’s the first genuine compliment you’ve gotten out of the asshole since you’ve met him, and your heart soars. He’s awful and mean and evil but the simple statement is enough for you.

“I’ll let you cum if you beg for it,” you grunt, rutting your hips enthusiastically. You’re close, but you refuse to finish first. He’s needy, thanks to being edged twice, and he’s unable to resist your promise.

“Please, fuck, please let me cum,” he whimpers, voice wet and eyes watery.

“Please what?”

“Mommy! Fuck, please mommy, just let me cum, it hurts, fuck, please,” he babbles, and it’s enough for you. You wrap your hand around his cock and stroke it firmly, hips speeding up as you chase your own release. It’s quick- he finishes almost embarrassingly fast, and the whorish wail that rips from his throat sends you right over the edge, your vision blurring at the corners as you stay trained on his face, obscene and submissive.

It’s quiet after you stop, both of you catching your breath. You pull out slowly, watching the way his hole flutters and you giggle, your body and ego fully satiated. You look back to his face; he looks more fucked out than you’ve ever seen him, almost like he’s about to fall back asleep.

“Can we call it a truce?” You break the silence, grinning as he cracks open an eye to give you a scalding look.

“Fuck. You.”

454 notes · View notes

honey-makki · 4 years

Text

Firsts

Characters: Tsukishima Kei X Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate works in mysterious ways to bring people who are destined to be together, to actually be together.

Warnings: Sex!! blow jobs, face riding, virginity loss

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Well this started as a drabble request but here I am a week later with a 5k fic about it. Soft tsukki inbound. I hope you enjoy @salty4tsukki bc I def enjoyed writing this.

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Being an only child is not a precursor to being lonely. Memories of family game nights, shared dinners and movies watched filled the air of your house letting you know that you were both never alone and, oh, so loved.

You knew that having as healthy a home environment was unusual and that it was part of the reason that you are so emotionally intelligent. Many of your peers couldn’t stand their parents and found every excuse to avoid being home. Sure, you and your parents had arguments about curfew or the number of texts you sent every month. The last argument happened every time you brought home a grade that was unsatisfactory, which wasn’t often, but consistent enough that it was a recurring problem.

“I’m just tired of them expecting me to be perfect! It’s unreasonable for them to expect perfect grades, being on a starter for the soccer team, and involved in other clubs! I’m only one person.” You ranted to Tsukki, sulking around his room before plopping on his bed, arms covering your sighing face. Tsukki was the only person you came to with family problems because you knew he would understand and not push you. The usually sassy boy always softened these days, knowing that this was the one thing that you couldn’t handle being teased about. Today, he looked at you with soft pity, knowing the amount of work you put towards everything just to be told it’s not enough.

“I could tutor you in English if you want? I know we have our usual pre-exam study sessions, but I really don’t mind making them more regular if you think they would help.” Tsukki might listen to you complain but he still isn’t the best at empathy, rather resorting to problem-solving. He showed his care and compassion to you subtly. Offering his solutions in a way you could make them sound like your own, knowing that provided a semblance of comfort. Allowing you into his room whenever you needed to complain and not questioning your feelings. Always offering you a hoodie or jacket when you were worn out from crying, knowing that the warmth would lull you into a much-needed sleep

You knew he cared about you. Yes, sometimes you over exaggerated your feelings to take advantage of that, but only because you wanted his jacket on your body. The thought that it was his arms rather than just a Tsukki scented cloth surrounding you. Only crying a little harder with the hopes he would offer to have a movie night which always meant cuddles. No, you never faked your feelings to him, not wanting to lie to your best friend and consistent childhood companion, you just embellished them.

Relishing in the fact that for maybe, just ten minutes that Tsukki wasn’t just your best friend, that he grew past friends as he aged, and saw you like more, as his other half. The person he wanted to spend not only his childhood years with but also every single one he still had left.

You aren’t sure when you fell in love with Tsukishima Kei.

It could have been his moment against Shiratorizawa when you saw him truly experience joy for the first time in the sport he spent so much time. It could have been the time he gave you his rain jacket when it was pouring before you walked home, knowing it wouldn’t do much against the downpour, but the barrier being symbolic. It could definitely have been the time you went over to study and you walked in on him singing to himself while studying, the soft tenor notes gracing your ears. You only really remember how his voice made your heart skip a beat, the flush of his ears when he turned around catching your eyes.

All you know is that you were hopelessly in love with the man who had been with you every step, every stumble of your life. The man who towered over you but never made you feel smaller than he, the man that laughed before checking on you when you tripped, but always ensuring you were truly ok.

Watching him grow into his height and his body gaining muscles during highschool was both a blessing and a curse. Your eyes were drawn to his figure, shoulders hunched over on his desk, deltoids peeking out of the sleeves in a way that made you want more. Yes, you loved looking at him but sometimes it plagued you.

Eyes scrunched shut and heavy breathing, all you can think about is what Tsukki might look like under those clothes. It was a curse, lewd thoughts of your best friend being the only way you could get off anymore. That didn’t stop you from plunging two fingers in and out for your dripping cunt edging yourself closer to your release. At the precipice, you pull your fingers out and eagerly circle your clit, the other hand moving from gripping the bedsheets to pulling at and groping your nipples. Tsukki’s name leaves your lips like a fervent prayer as you cum to the thought of him. You never felt worse about yourself than you did at this moment, but somehow you found yourself here regularly.

You didn’t know that at that exact same moment Tsukki was in his room thinking about you. The way your smaller hands would fit around his dick, the hesitation you might experience but be driven forward by lust. The thought of being the first and maybe the only person to touch you always drives him to his release.

He might have fooled around with some girls before, a handjob here and there, amidst a make-out session, but he could never find it in himself to go further. He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to be with anyone else, because he knew that the whole time he would be thinking about you under him.

As you had aged, sleepovers became less frequent but were something the two of you still cherished and actively made time for. Tonight is one such night, having just finished your final midterms and gorging yourself on celebratory ramen from your favorite shop. Tsukki’s parents were out of town for the week, but were used to your presence in the house and didn’t mind you being over.

You being there should have been fine, nothing out of the normal but that's not how fate works.

Once you arrived at his place you both changed into lounge clothes getting ready to binge the latest season of Game of Thrones. You went to the kitchen to grab you both some water, knowing neither of you will want to get up once you start.

Tsukki must have had the same idea because as you rounded the corner of the kitchen, you were met with a brick wall and a frigid wave running through your body. You realized it wasn't through your body when your nipples began to harden, peaking through your now translucent shirt. While you are still shocked at the chill, Tsukki looks down to see what happened. Instead what he sees is you, accidentally exposed, the white shirt clinging to the curve of your body like a second layer of skin.

He knows that if he doesn’t avert his gaze that he won't be able to suppress a rising tent in his pants. Committing the image to memory quickly, he apologizes for being in the way, “Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. Feel free to go grab one of my shirts to change into. I’ll clean the mess up.” With that, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a towel, brushing against your body in the narrow hallway.

You head up to his room and go to his dresser, you’ve watched him put his laundry away before, knowing exactly where he keeps his biggest and most comfortable shirts. You strip off your shirt, skin pebbling at the breeze from his fan. Blushing at the fact you are taking your clothes off in your crush childhood friend room, you strip off your lounge shorts now noticing they also have been soaked.

As you pull his practice jersey on you notice it reaches your midthigh, which causes a brief internal conflict. Should I grab a pair of his shorts even though I know they’ll be too big? This shirt is longer than my shorts were anyways, but it’s not the most decent thing. The deciding factor in opting for no shorts was nothing to do with you, rather with the man waiting patiently downstairs. It had everything to do with the glint of intrigue in Tsukki’s eye you spotted earlier, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and the burning touch he left on your body as he passed you in the hallway.

Tsukki was not even thinking about what you would look like in his clothes as he had more urgent problems. His cock was achingly hard in his sweatpants, the gray not doing him any favors of hiding how he felt about seeing your body. He was doing everything he could think of to suppress both the thoughts of you and blood rushing downstairs.

After quickly cleaning up the spill, he got situated on the couch with a blanket hoping it would help hide his current problem as he got it under control. Tsukki spent the remaining time of your absence struggling to distract himself, reciting poetry meditating, anything to not think about it, think about you, think about the curve of your che- fuck he was failing.

His eyes shot open at your weight landing next to him on the couch. Subtly looking over your form, that he now has burned into the back of his eyelids, seeing you drowning in his clothes, his volleyball clothes. Wait, is she just wearing my shirt? His gaze lingering on the soft expanse of your thighs, knowing that he should be able to see the hem of your shorts with the way you are sitting. The thought of you in your underwear almost makes him moan, his already hard dick twitching with precum budding at the tip.

You shoot him a smile, apologizing for taking so long and say you're ready to watch if he is. After some time has passed, the air is nipping at on your still slightly wet skin, you scoot closer to Tsukki and get under the blanket with him. The slight abrasion from his sweats on your skin sent electricity tingling throughout your body and unknowingly did the same to him.

Reaching forward to grab a glass of water after a particularly gruesome scene, your phone tumbled out of your lap. Not really thinking you lean forward and grab it, slightly raising your ass into the air to reach the last few inches. You plop back down with a grunt and throw your arms open, hoping Tsukki would know that this is your way of saying you needed to take a break from the show for a bit.

Neither of you expected the moan that escaped his lips as you brushed across his now very obvious erection. Neither of you knew what to do after either, he flushed red with embarrassment and hid his face, you with your arm still where it landed on his thigh, unable to move. “Y/N, can you please move?.” he barely chokes out. The obvious restraint in his voice was a sound you had only previously daydreamed of.

Driven by lust, or excitement, maybe even fear that another opportunity would arise, you do move, but not in the way he had intended. You get up off the couch and he's sure that you are getting ready to leave, disgusted with him, but instead, you settle in on your knees between his thighs. Doey-eyes looking up through your lashes with hesitant excitement. “Ok, I’ve moved, what next?”

Is the one thing he dreamed about is really happening? The actuality of it seems almost incredulous. “Y/N, stop joking, I’m sorry about this. They just kinda, happen sometimes.” He can’t meet your eye because he’s sure he would cum just from the sight of you between his legs.

“If you don't want me here Kei, I’ll move, but I’m serious.” As you say his first name, another moan comes from his throat, spurring you to action. Biting your lip, you move the blanket and hesitantly grasp his erection.

Tsukki is hazy with confusion but simultaneously everything is crystal clear with pleasure, unable to focus on anything due to the duality inside his head. Even if he wanted to tell you to stop, to stop and think, he wouldn’t be able to choke out the words.

He notices you aren’t really moving which is driving him mad until he looks down and sees just how pure you look. “Kei, I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do my best.”

“Princess, are you sure you still want to do this?” as he pulls you up to eye level, cupping your cheeks. Seeing your nod and nervous smile, he leans forward to kiss you.

The chill that had previously permeated your body is replaced with warmth, the feeling of his soft lips moving in time with yours, his gentle but assertive grip on your back acting as heat sources. It’s a comfortable warmth, an invitation into him.

You plan on taking that invitation as he deepens the kiss, one hand in the hair at his nape, the other returning to palm him through his sweats. As he stops your kiss, holding in a groan you take that opportunity to return to your original position in front of him. Waiting patiently, looking up at him for instruction with an absolutely pornographic gaze.

Tsukki thought the image of your chest was the best thing he would ever see, but this takes the cake. Your hands playing with the waistband, with slight hesitation before pulling both his bowers and sweats down with his assistance.

You knew what a dick looked like, but that doesn’t mean you are any less intimidated when one is just a few inches from your face. Long and curved, a prominent vein running up to the head that is flushed red and slick with precum. His hand rests on your head with the other on his thigh. Seeing his excitement on his face gives you enough encouragement to kitten lick his tip two times. “Fuck Y/N, please don’t tease me,” his voice wavering between a moan and a whine, you’ve never heard him sound so dependent, so needy before.

Knowing that you are the one doing this to him gives you the confidence to start taking his dick in your mouth. You pause at the head, moving your tongue around, unsure what feels good until his grip on your head tightens as you rub against the bottom, just before the shaft. “Fuck pretty girl, please move your head down, please I wan--” A groan cuts him off as you follow his command. Slowly starting to bob along a portion of his length, with increasing speed.

“Spit on your hand and stroke the rest, god your mouth is heavenly” after pulling off to follow his command, you finally notice the familiar Tsukki-induced burning in your stomach, but amplified by a hundred when you see his cock twitch as you spit into your hand. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you positioned your hand under your mouth, whispering uncharacteristically gentle words of praise.

Soft moans fall out of his mouth as you swirl your tongue around his head on every upward movement. Your hand mimicking the speed of your lips, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can. One particular comment of his shoots straight to your core, “Y/N, I never imagined you would make me feel this good.” The implication of him thinking about this, the same way you have, makes you moan around his dick, which in turn elicits a sharp intake from Tsukki.

His grip has been tightening on your head slowly, but all of a sudden he pulls you off. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth without asking, just hand me a tissue.”

You never imagined Tsukki making the type of sound he did when you artlessly stuttered out “W-Well you have my permission.”

Returning your tongue to his tip, which is now angrily red and coated in both spit and precum, it only takes a few seconds before he bucks into your mouth as he orgasms. His cock reaches further than you expected resulting in you choking as he hits the back of your throat, unintentionally intensifying his orgasm.

He pulls you off of him, grimacing at the cold air hitting his spent dick, bending forward to look you in the eye.. “Pretty girl, I’m so sorry for that last bit, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?”

The pressure of his thumb wiping off a few spare tears makes you wonder what his touch would feel like on the rest of your body. As your mind delves into lewd thoughts, you shift your thighs looking for some pleasure, and give him an absentminded “It was fine, unexpected but I wanna make you feel good.”

He carefully sits you in his lap and pulls you into a deep kiss, slow but hungry. He moves down your jaw to your neck before whispering “Well, I guess it’s my turn to return the favor huh.” You bite back your moan, but as he harshly sucks a spot at the base of your neck it slips out. “You don’t have to hide your noises, princess, let me know how good everything feels.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides underneath his shirt before they find your chest. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined these.” You tug your shirt off and do the same to him. Both of you are just marveling at the beauty in front of you with lust.

He makes the first move, gently bringing your right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as his left-hand switches randomly between rubbing along your side and massaging your left boob. The warmth of his tongue flicking against your pebbled bud is miles better than your own fingers, endless breathy moans falling out of your mouth as you find purchase for your hands in his hair.

You must be unconsciously rutting against him because he stops his ministrations and stills your hips with a harsh grip. “Feeling needy now? Let me take care of you.” Tsukki rolls you off of him and you expect him to get on his knees in front of you, making you clench your knees both out of excitement and embarrassment.

So when he lays down on the floor in front of you and shoots you a smug smirk, “Come take a seat,” your jaw drops in shock.

“No, Tsukki, you don't have- What if I don’t taste good, please don’t worry about it-I don't want to suffoc-” excuses and concerns pour out of your mouth but your body betrays you at the thought of him licking your sex.

“Y/N. Get over here. I want to do this and I’ll ensure you enjoy it.” His tone was commanding enough that you moved from the couch to straddling his head without a thought, losing your panties along the way. Your mind is murky with lust and anticipation, thoughts of how many times you’ve imagined his tongue on your clit being the only thing breaking through the fog.

His tongue pierces through the haze as he runs the flat of it along your entire soaked core. Your body wants to pull away from the pressure but buck into the pleasure at the same time but Tsukki makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs so you are snug against his face.

He repeats the action, trying to coax a moan out of you, adding a little more force each time. It isn’t until the bridge of his nose brushes your clit that you finally let out the noises you’ve held in. “Kei- hi- fuck- higher,” breathy moans coat your words in lust.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” His smug tone would have been annoying except for the fact that he was pressing hesitant licks against your clit eventually circling it with the tip of his tongue. You have no control over the whines you are making, only broken up by saying “yes Kei, yes, fuck” and other words of praise

Knowing how it felt when you moaned around his dick, he tries humming with his lips surrounding your clit and if he wasn’t already hard, he sure is now after the way you lewdly moaned his name and fiercely tugged his hair.

The view of your tits heaving along with your breaths drive him to be a little more aggressive with his tongue, mercilessly switching between toying with your folds to harshly drawing shapes into your clit.

Your cunt is drowning Tsukki in slick, coating his face and chin and he’s never been happier. Sucking your folds and using his tongue to taste all of you. He can't believe that anything has ever tasted better than you do right now.

He can tell by the legs squeezing his head, and the shake of your entire body you are close to your orgasm. Wanting to try something new, he slides his tongue into your hole, causing you to grip his blonde locks so hard, you probably pulled some out.

The wanton moans reverberating through the room are the only encouragement he needs to keep pressing his tongue against your tight walls. Your cunt so desperately wants to be filled its almost sucking his tongue in, but you know that alone won’t be enough to make you cum.

“ ‘m close, fuck. Please my clit, Kei please” The loss of his pressure in your cunt is overridden by the shockwaves of his lips around your clit, paired with him tracing letters and a deep moan from his throat. That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. His moan continues as you ride out your high, hips jerking forward at the intensity.

As he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap, “Obviously I didn’t need instructions on how to make you feel good. I’ve thought about this for years.” You aren’t clear-headed enough to slap him like you usually would. All you can think about is the painful tension already building again in your core and his painfully hard dick pressed into your thigh.

You pull him into a kiss that conveys your unspoken words. Full of need and lust and wanting to make up for all of the time you lost. Your lips meet his harshly, like if you stop that it might disappear, afraid to pull back for air.

As he moves to your neck you instinctively rut your hips against him, looking for some form of release. Growling into your ear, “Oh, so one wasn't good enough for you? You want another orgasm?”

“Well, It’s obvious you want another one,” matching his smugness with another roll that causes him to groan.

Before you can recognize it, he's flipped you over on your back and is hovering over you, eyes committing every inch of you to memory, drinking in the sight of your body, pebbled nipples, slick coating your thighs, love marks he's left thus far. It’s almost enough to make him go feral.

Almost.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop. I really don’t mind.” The concern in his voice is clearly fighting against the lust, just barely winning over his more carnal desires. His answer comes in the form of your hand grabbing his dick and giving it a few soft, needy strokes.

“Please Tsukki, I need you in me. I’ve thought about this for so long, no way am I stopping”

“Alright pretty girl,” and with that he returns to your deep kiss, your lips feeling like a home he never knew he left. He brings his hand down to your core, ghosting his fingers on your lips before teasing one finger in slowly.

You hiss at the pleasure, hands finding stability rooted in his shoulders. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth to help distract you while he rocks it in and out of your pussy. Quickly, he could tell that you were ready for a second and slipped it in, being met with you clawing at his shoulders while letting out a wanton moan.

Tsukki moves to place wet kisses along your neck and down to your chest, sucking every once in a while and then following it with a swipe of his tongue. You miss the pressure on your mouth, but you can feel another orgasm building, and it's getting harder to breathe.

You genuinely do stop breathing when he takes one nipple in his mouth and uses his free hand to start rubbing circles into your clit. Well, if this is the way I die, I don’t really have any complaints. The coil in your stomach is about to snap and the only warning you can get out is slapping his shoulders.

The wave almost knocks you out, back arching off the floor while also trying to get more from the man between your legs. Inserting a third finger stretched you so good, he watches you try to fuck yourself on his hand through the orgasm, greedily wanting more.

“You ready, pretty girl? Ready to take my cock?”

“Shit yes, Kei, please fuck me. I’ve dreamed about cumming on your dick, please please--” you are reduced to babbling pleas when he runs his dick along your slit coating himself in your slick. The jolt of pleasure every time his head hits your already over-stimulated bud edges on pain but you don’t want him to stop.

You see stars and hear symphonies when he thrusts into you. A duet of his staccato grunts and your euphonic moans, accompanied by the fortissimo sounds of your pussy as he slides in. After taking a rest for you to adjust to his girth, his pace starts off slow but gradually increasing as you beg him for more.

“Fuck, please, fill me up, god I never thought your cock would feel so good, Fuck”

Your babbling praise is reduced to a high pitched whine when he starts slamming into you harder than before. The heavy slaps of his hips into yours replacing your moans in the melody. You barely process his words as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with no remorse, over and over and over again.

“Did I just hear you say you didn’t think my cock would feel good? Do you want to go back to cumming on your fingers to the thought of me or do you want me to continue stretching your tiny little pussy out?”

Tsukki never minced his words, but the sheer lewdness of them causes heat to rise in your face. “N-no Kei. Please help, shit, me. Wanna cum on your dick so b- so bad.” His answer is to push one of your legs back towards your shoulder, the new position and the curve of his cock has him hitting that spot inside you always struggled to reach.

Every muscle in your body is tensed up, burning from the desire to cum. Shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your pussy reach the tips of your toes and through every hair on your head.

Your walls are clenching around him, wanting him deeper, even though there isn’t really any room left for him. Your body is driven by lust and disregards any pain you should be feeling, rather interpreting it as a different octave of pleasure.

You find your fingers on your chest, groping and tweaking your nipples, knowing that you get even more sensitive when you are ready to orgasm. “Kei, please cum in me, I wanna cum but I wanna, no I need to do it with you,” it sounds more like a moan or a plea than a request, but Tsukki was already struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

He took your lead, moving his mouth down to your chest and rolling your other nipple against his tongue. Simultaneously, he snakes a hand down to your vagina, to the spot you begged him to touch earlier and rubs meticulous circles on your puffy and neglected clit..

Your back arches off the floor at the first touch of your clit, and your cunt clenched around his dick, making it even harder for Tsukki to thrust in and out. Your orgasm is stronger than its ever been, you’re certain you blacked out for a minute, only coming to when you hear a hearty moan from Tsukki and another wave of warmth in your sex, this time coming from him.

His forehead pressed against your chest as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, hand still curling your clit, attempting to extend the euphoria you both feel for as long as he can. Your hands find their way into his hair and you gently tug and scratch his scalp, making him look up at you.

Your face may be covered in tears, and spit but he’s never looked at you with more adoration. You continue to pull him up to your face, placing sweet kisses all over his face as you both ride out the last waves of your high, his dick still inside of you. Wincing as he pulls out to lay down on the floor, he ends up pulling you into an embrace.

You look over to his content face, illuminated by the television, eyes closed with a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips before he murmurs, “I never knew Game of Thrones sex scenes were quite so realistic, but I’m not complaining.”

“God, Tsukki you’re so annoying,” you say trying to shove him off of you with a laugh, but he just holds you tighter.

“I like it better when you call me Kei.”

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @roandtheroses @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life

#tsukishima #kei tsukishima #tsuki #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukki x you #tsukki x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #kristen writes #soft tsukki #h*rny hours

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saiki-k-innie · 3 years

Text

Your boyfriend, Denki Kaminari, is the UA traitor

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Anime: My Hero Academia Character(s): Denki Kaminari Legend (y/n = your name): gender neutral reader, quirk not mentioned, y/n is a gamer (not a major plot point) Word Count: 2.1k Warnings: (very) minor angst, invasion of privacy Notes: I wrote this while listening to (this) playlist, originally in the comment section of the video. I decided to refine it and post it here, because why not?

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

when you first found out, you were devastated.

Denki? Your little Pikachu? The UA traitor? preposterous. it was almost laughable. almost.

You were chilling in his room, playing on his PlayStation while he was out training with Kirishima and some others when you discovered his secret.

It was pretty common to see you in his room without him or vice versa. You two completely trusted each other with everything. There was nothing to hide from each other, or so you thought.

When you were about to claim a win in Overwatch, (you were KILLING IT as Widowmaker), Denki's monitor went black. No response from the controller or the console. Sighing, you pushed yourself back in his chair and ducked your head under the desk.

"oh my god" you breathed as you laid eyes on the rat's nest of wires tangled beneath his desk. It was absolutely insane. You couldn't tell one cable from another in the gordian knot of cords. You quickly identified the problem (the plug for the PlayStation had come loose) and fixed it. You cringed at the loss of your game progress but you had another problem at hand.

You powered off all of his consoles and settled down to solve the tangle of cables. Laughing, you didn't know why you expected anything more of Denki. He was so lucky that you loved solving puzzles, and knots were your specialty.

Looking closer, you saw that he had taken the wall socket apart and messed around with it to accommodate his quirk and gamer lifestyle. You were surprised that it hadn't started a fire, but decided not to mess with that because you were genuinely afraid of what would happen if you grabbed the wrong cable.

After a bit of untangling, you finally had the cords separated. You identified and tagged all of the cords at the speed of a professional, but one cord that ran straight into the wall remained. You couldn't find what it plugged into or where it went, and it was driving you crazy.

Temporarily abandoning your original task, you swiftly ran your nimble fingers along the mystery cable. It snaked along the base of Denki's desk into the back of one of his drawers through a clearly handmade hole. You wondered why this cable was so concealed while the rest were once so tangled and what it led to.

Extracting yourself from under Denki's desk, you took a deep breath and stretched our your back. You easily identified the drawer it was supposed to go to and opened it up. The drawer was surprisingly organized, containing game cases for games that you hadn't seen him play before, but you definitely recognized the titles. There was still no sign of what the cable led to.

You weren't going to give up so soon, though. If he thought this would satisfy your curiosity, he was dead wrong. Smirking at the feeble deterrent, you promptly removed all of the cases to see what they were covering up.

"Huh," you vocalized as you stared at the empty drawer. Something wasn't adding up. Peering at the back of the drawer, you could see the cable lead... underneath the drawer? No, you were sure that it was this drawer.

Inspecting the drawer carefully, you realized that the depth of the drawer didn't match the depth of the space allotted for it. You were starting to get excited. Remembering what Light did to hide his Death Note, you realized that the bottom of the drawer was probably a fake. Smiling fondly, you remembered how Death Note was the first anime you two watched together.

Ducking your head under the drawer, you saw the hole for the ink cartridge from a ballpoint pen that would reveal the secrets. You shook your head. How did Denki think he could hide something from his weeb s/o??? You swiftly disassembled a pen and poked it into the hole.

Success! the faux bottom popped up.

Nearly vibrating from the excitement of discovery, you carefully removed the thin wooden facade from the drawer.

What- What is this? There were several circuits and wires winding around the drawer, all carefully placed and put together so they covered the bottom of the drawer snugly. You saw a button, a switchboard, a headphone jack, and what looked like a place for a cd to sit in the area closest to you. The switchboard had three buttons labeled "play" "pause" and "record". The button off of the switchboard had no label, but it was significantly bigger than the others, so it had to have some significance.

The excitement slid off of your face and was replaced with a look of pure confusion and disappointment. You didn't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Well, the puzzle certainly got a lot more complex but that wasn't going to stop you either. You stared at the labyrinth of lines and wires, like little highways connecting on the circuits and different components. You had completely forgotten your original objective of cable management.

Thinking for a second, you picked up one of the game cases that you took out of the drawer. The title read "Halo 3: ODST". Popping it open with the finesse of a pro gamer, you peeked inside, expecting to see the matching blue disk, but instead saw a grey cd with "021" scribbled on it in Denki's signature scrawl.

Shifting your weight onto your knees, you plugged your headphones into the audio jack. You pried the disk from the case and set it down in the drawer and pressed "play".

Your ears were assaulted with a series of beeps and you instinctively ripped your headphones from your ears. What was this??? After calming down, you sighed and carefully put your headphones back on. The beeping continued, and you realized that it was in a specific pattern. You identified it easily as morse code, and you remembered that Denki had taught you it a while back, just in case you had to communicate non-verbally. You used it to share answers on tests and talk in class more than anything, and sometimes to communicate during training. Jirou was the only other person who knew morse code in class 1-A, but you seriously doubted that she knew about this.

You pressed "pause" and removed the disk from the tray. You grabbed a notepad and reassembled the pen that you had dissected to reveal the bottom of the drawer. Sitting back down, you put the CD back into the tray and played it from the beginning.

Focusing completely, you wrote down the corresponding words to the rapid beeps. After about two minutes, the high-pitched beeps ceased completely. You put down your pen and read the message you had translated.

"Monochrome to Sparks. Bi-weekly report for week 11. Recruit for new members has proved successful. Two new villains by the names “Toga” and “Dabi” have joined us. We are still planning for the next attack on UA. Void has used intel for the specific layout of UA to detect weak points in the mainframe successfully. Crusty has suggested that we wait for the current term to finish to make our next move. We may be able to kidnap students of choice if they end up going on a training trip. That is all. Please send your reply at the usual time. Over."

Your jaw went slack. What- what is this? You shakily took the cd out of the drawer and replaced it. You opened up the other game cases that you had removed. They also contained grey disks, some labeled and some blank.

You placed the labeled ones in numerical order and listened to them one by one. The notepad was filled with all of the messages from months of corrospondence. Some had pre-dated the dorm system, so you figured that Denki converted their format to match the ones that were recorded after moving into the dorms to disguise the timeline.

Looking over your work, the puzzle pieces all fell into place. Denki had been working with the LOV for months, even before he came to UA. He had tricked you and your classmates into thinking that he was training to become the next generation of heroes with his charm and jokes. It all made sense, in a twisted way. Who would be better to be the traiter than him? To stupid in school to seem like he could pull it off, but insanely smart outside of the classroom. Was his academic shortcomings a fake too? No, you had sat there with him for hours trying to help him understand logarithms to no avail. He couldn’t of faked the tears of frustration he had before you agreed to go taste all of the flavors of Monster Energy and rank them instead of studying for midterms.

No matter what he had been planning, he still was your boyfriend. He was still your little static boy. Right?

You read over all of the messages over and over until your eyes blurred from tears. You put everything back and silently organized the cables you had pulled out. Shaking, you sat on his bed, clutching the notepad in your hands, waiting for Denki to come back.

After what seemed like forever, you heard his footsteps in the hallway.

When Denki walked in, you could tell he was exhausted.

You put down the notepad and held out your arms to him. He collapsed into you and exhaled, clearly wiped from training. You love him so much it hurts. He means the world to you, and you would do anything for him without hesitation. You solemnly made up your mind.

"Denki..." you started, rubbing his hair. "Mmmmph" he replied, noise muffled by your body. When you didn't respond, he sat up and faced you, rubbing his eyes.

You smiled sadly at him.

"What is it, my little spark?" he asked, his tone strained with worry.

You sighed and handed him the notebook with the messages written on them.

You watched his expression shift from confusion, to horror, to fear, to resignation. He didn't make it through all of the messages. He knew you would find this one day. He had made it so only you would know.

His gaze slowly panned over to the cords under his desk. When he saw that they were neatly organized, he sighed and put down the notebook. "y/n... let me explain... I understand if you turn me in. I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I understand if-" his voice broke and his eyes welled up with tears.

It hurt you so badly to see him like this. You looked over his beautiful face, distorted from the tears in your own eyes.

"Denki, when were you planning to tell me?" You felt so hurt that he kept this from you, but you knew why. How could he tell you? You both were training to be heroes. How was he supposed to tell you that you were part of the League of Villians?

"I- it all happened so fast, and I wasn't supposed to make friends, let alone be in a relationship. The shit hit the fan so quickly that it felt impossible to tell you. When we moved into dorms because of the LOV attack, I knew that I would have to tell you eventually. I set it up so we would know how to communicate in morse code so that you and only you would be able to find the communicator, and so that you would feel comfortable in my room. I just- I just hoped that maybe you would never find out." As he spoke, he moved his hands around feebly, just to let them rest on his lap.

You listened to him in silence. When he was done, you gazed into his honey-colored eyes that were trained dutifully on his bedspread and smiled. "I would burn down the world for you, Pikachu. I wish you would've trusted me with this sooner." You laughed and shook your head. "You are more important to me than you could ever imagine. If you are the UA traitor, if you are part of the League of Villians, so be it. I will shake hands with the devil if it means I will be by your side."

His blonde head snapped to attention. “Y/n...?” He looked at you quizically. This... didn’t sound like you. He knew that you were determined beyond measure to become a hero, and he didn’t expect you to be swayed so easily.

"Please, please, please don't hide anything else from me. I will always be on your side. Don't ever forget that, okay sparky?"

He looked at you, surprised that you weren't telling Aizawa about him at this moment, not that he would stop you. "Okay, my little spark."

"I love you"

"I love you too"

“... do you want to play a video game?”

“you know I do.”

“okay.”

“Hey y/n?”

“yes Denki?”

“let’s burn down the world together”

#mha #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #bocu no hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha imagines #mha x reader #my hero academia #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #denki x reader #bnha x you

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renjunfromthestars · 4 years

Text

more than

Pairing: Mark + reader, Bestfriend! Mark, Childhood friend!Mark

Genre: Fluff, angst, honestly a little bit of crack LOL

Song recs: Best friend + Untitled + Waiting Room (Rex Orange County), Sofia (Clario)

Warnings: Mild swearing and mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 7.0k (my longest fic yet, wow!)

Summary: You’ve known Mark for all your life, and it only takes one drunken night (plus a little intervention with Haehcan) to think that you wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better...

Notes: The fact that I actually had the patience to sit down and to write something above 3k words,,,,absolutely astounding, amazing, unique, never been seen before…. Mark is a little awk and always works so hard (poor bby), so imagining him as a super stressed pre-med major and oblivious best friend absolutely wrecks me thank you goodbye

----

When you first meet Mark, you’re eight years old, and it’s at church. He’s dressed in his Sunday best: a light blue button up, khakis, and shiny dress shoes. He looks stiff as your mother introduces you two, with his shirt buttoned all the way to the collar.

It’s not that you dislike him, but you think he might dislike you, with the way he avoids eye contact, eyes tracing the floor, your shoes—anywhere but your face.

You see panic flash through his eyes when his mom gently pushes him towards you, telling him to take you inside and reserve a spot in the pews while she catches up with your mom.

He shuffles awkwardly, and wordlessly, you follow him into the building.

The pews are almost empty, with the bulk of them being filled in the front by the old people that usually have nothing better to do on their Sunday mornings. Although your local church is on the smaller side, it feels unusually large with rows of empty pews, almost eerie. You shudder at shadows the walls make with the stained glass, and hurry to your usual spot towards the middle.

If Mark notices your apprehension, he doesn’t say anything. He’s oblivious, actually, not noticing your absence until he’s almost at the end of the rows. When you see him stop and search for you frantically, you stifle a laugh.

He eventually finds you, and after shuffling awkwardly between the pews, makes his way to you.

“This is kinda far, isn’t it?” he murmurs.

“Huh?”

“I mean,” he stammers. “I usually sit closer to the front. ”

You peer at him from the side. “You actually want to pay attention?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Well yeah, isn’t that the point?”

“I guess,” you say, looking at the ceiling. With the sprawling arches and patterns, the designs are pretty, you think.

“You should at least try, it’s kinda interesting,” when you turn your head to look at him he turns away. “Only if you want to, of course.” he adds, fidgeting with his hands.

When you tell him that maybe you will, you see him crack a small smile.

It becomes a routine, almost every Sunday, with you and Mark sitting next to each other. Whether it’s closer to the front or the back, it’s a whole debate. You usually give in, because when you walk in, Mark is already waiting for you in the front.

….

“Do you still go to Church?”

You’re laying on a green bean bag in Mark’s dorm room, procrastinating on the midterm paper you were supposed to get started on, well, a week ago.

You think for a second, hand raised to rub your chin, just to tease him. “What’s church?”

“C'mon dude, are you serious?”

“Barely,” you say, standing up to move to sit on his bed. “You should really get a new bean bag, it’s kinda deflated.”

Mark ignoring you, reaches over from his desk to fluff up the bean bag. “It’s because you sit on it so much.”

“Are you calling me fat?” and before he can defend himself you finally answer him, “I stopped going in like, middle school. It would be hard even if I wanted to, to find a whole new congregation, and I’m just busy. Also, it’s so boring, I could cry.”

Mark perks up. “Not if you go with me.”

You groan dramatically, and Mark chuckles.

“Good to know that you haven’t changed since you were eight.”

It’s just your view on church, that hasn’t changed since you were eight. First thing things first, you were 19 now, going on twenty. You’re in University now, your second year. It’s been a blur assignments, partying, coffee and term papers- you don’t have time to think about anything else right now. Except maybe actually starting your paper but-

Mark interrupts you midthought, breaking the silence. “Are you still with that guy?”

“Huh? Who? Yuta?”

“Yeah,” Mark responds sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

You roll your eyes. “No, we haven’t been together for a while. It wasn’t that important so I forgot to tell you.”

You can tell he's surprised about how unusually calm you are for talking about your first serious breakup, but he doesn’t say anything, instead just scratching the back of his head awkwardly in typical Mark fashion. “He was an asshole anyway,” Mark murmurs.

“What did you say?” you ask, acting shocked. “Mark Lee? Talking shit?”

Mark, embarrassed, refuses to repeat it.

“I’m just saying, he wasn’t the right person for you.” he protests.

“As opposed to who? God himself?”

“I can think of a few,” he sighs, but you aren’t paying attention, instead laughing your ass off on his bed.

“You’re insufferable,” he says, standing up to open the door. “C’mon let’s go, I’m hungry. I know you’re not starting that paper anytime soon.”

…

It’s a routine, seeing Mark on Monday afternoons for lunch. Not Friday, because you were busy getting wasted, and consequently not Saturday, because you were too hungover. Not Sunday, because Mark had church, and you, well, were busy praying to God that you would be able to finish all the work you’d neglected over the weekend as a result.

“I still don’t understand why you choose the worst day of the week for this,” you say over your Kale caesar salad, pushing the leaves around aggressively. The University had a lot of healthy options, which you were grateful for. Grateful for you were not, were for the student loans you had to pay off every month, the exorbitant amount you partially owed to all the local and expensive organic produce the meal plan featured for the sake of being sustainable and health conscious.You could really give a rat’s ass about whether your salad was organic or not; if your weekends said anything about you, no amount of kale could help you (or your liver).

“It wasn’t really up to me,” Mark points out. “Maybe if you weren’t too busy being-”

“Ta ta ta,” you tsk, waving a finger around. “I, unlike you, actually have a social life.”

Mark frowns. “I have a social life.”

Mark definitely had a social life. He was popular, even. As popular as you can be, being a preoccupied Pre-med with perfect grades. Mark is likeable. It’s not like he doesn’t have the opportunity to go on weekends if wanted to, he just chooses not to, deciding to slave away at biological functions, orbitals, and lab results instead. Even now, as he takes his glasses off to clean them, you notice the imprint they leave on his face from how long they’ve been sitting on his face, and doesn’t take you long to find the dark circles that grace the skin under his eyes: he’s exhausted.

You frown too. “You should really get out more Mark. You seem stressed.”

Mark gives you a small smile after putting his glasses back on, and then resumes typing on his laptop. “I don’t know how going out would make me less stressed,” he says, distracted. “I would only be more stressed, knowing the work I have to do.”

“Yeah, but you're pretty organized.” You point your fork at him accusingly, kale falling to the side. “Don’t you usually finish things early too?”

“Yeah, I do.” he admits, and before you can press onwards you’re interrupted by a girl you recognize to be his lab partner.

Goggles in hand, you can see the marks they leave around her eye area, but she’s somehow still annoyingly beautiful, with her glossy straight hair and long eyelashes, but that’s not why you dislike her. She might be the most stuck up girl you’ve ever met.

“Did you do the calculations yet?” she says, turning to Mark. ignoring you. It’s only when you cough in your seat that she turns to you. “And hello, (y/n).” An afterthought.

“Hello Yebin,” You give her a wry smile. “How's the lab?”

“The usual.” she glances at Mark, who seems to be doing some finishing touches on said calculations. “How’s Chem 2?”

Boy, does she really grind your gears.

“It was fine, I actually placed out because I took it in high school.” Not to mention, it was a class for freshmen, and you were in fact, now a sophomore.

Before she can say anything back, Mark claps his hands in celebration. “Done! Sorry it took me so long, I just had to double check some things.”

“It’s no problem,” and with the way her voice drips with a sickly sweetness, you want to gag. It’s so painfully obvious. “Are you still down for tomorrow?”

Poor Mark, always oblivious, stops typing on his laptop and looks up in confusion. “Huh?”

You silently laugh at the expression Yebin makes when she realizes Mark has no idea what she’s talking about. “For our study session? The MCAT is just months away.”she reminds him.

Mark remembers. “Oh yeah, about that, I was thinking we could also invite-”

“Great!” she chirps, “See you tomorrow!” and with a flash of her white lab coat, she's gone.

Mark scratches the back of his head. “I guess she had somewhere to be.”

You roll your eyes for what it seems like the 100th time this week, anymore and they might be permanently stuck to the back of your head. “She definitely likes you.”

“Who? Yebin? No way.”

“Yes, Yebin, and yes way.” You fling a walnut from your salad over to his side, and he cringes.

“What is your problem?” he grumbles, and resumes typing on his laptop.

You drop the subject, because you know any talk on girls is completely lost on him. As you set aside your salad, you peer over at Mark, palm supporting your face. He’s focused, eyebrows slightly furrowed, with his lips mouthing over silently whatever science journal he was reading on his computer screen.

Mark has always been good looking, you think. You don’t know why you’ve never really noticed it before. His nose bridge gently slopes over his face, and his jawline is sharp, having lost his baby cheeks years ago. He works out often too, although he barely talks about it (maybe out of fear you’d tease him for being a gym bro). And with the way he’s so adorably awkward, It’s no surprise really, that every girl friend that you’ve met of his seems to be completely smitten.

Shaking your head, you snap out of it. It’s dangerous to think of Mark that way, you think. You’ve known him too long.

“My problem? I think you’re the one with the problem here. I’m surprised your hair isn't completely gray by now.”

Mark ignores you, probably mad at the fact you tried to start world food war three with him with a walnut.

“Hey.” you flick at his forehead to get his attention, and he flinches.

“There’s a party this weekend at Johnny’s fraternity, you should come.” Johnny, being both your long time mutual friend (who’s demeanor is way too nice to fit the stereotypical frat boy image, really) who has since stopped asking Mark out of respect for his “med school grind”.

“I’m already planning on it,” he responds, and you’re surprised.

“Since when do you actually accept party invitations?”

“Since yesterday, because I’m tired of Haechan bothering me about it.”

You silently cheer, of course, you expect nothing else from Haechan.

…

“I never knew it was so hard to get booze.”

“It’s not hard if you’re 21.”

Scoffing, you turn your head to face the boy across from you. As if he can feel the burn of your gaze on his forehead, Haechan stops typing on his Macbook and lifts his eyes to meet yours.

“No shit Sherlock, but last time I checked, we both weren’t 21.”

The sun had set a half an hour ago, and despite having spent the whole afternoon together, you and Haechan have had yet to come up with a way to secure the drinks you promised your friends for tonight’s pregame. With both of you being certified schemers representing your respective friends, you guess it wasn’t that big of surprise that the responsibility was left on both your shoulders. It beat scavenging alone, and spending time with Haechan wasn’t so bad either, when you two weren’t trying to kill each other.

It was already late, and Haechan had deemed Ubering to the nearest packer store that sold Soju (the sweet sweet liquid of choice) was too much work. You on the other hand, had dismissed that option for a completely different reason. The issue in question was the flimsy, borderline pathetic excuse for a fake ID Haechan planned to use at the packer store.

“Hey it works!” he protested. “You just act like you’re already legal and they don’t even card you. Easy.”

You roll your eyes as Haechan theatrically reenacts his last trip to the packer store.

“I asked him how he was doing, and he told me school sucks. I say to him, ‘Tell me about it, thank god this is my last year!” and as if to emphasize his next point, he flicks his wrist in the air, ID snuggled between his index and middle finger. “And I was on my way. No issue at all.”

“That’s because he didn’t even see your fake I.D stupid. He would’ve called you out on your bullshit in an instant.”

Out of all the different options available, you could not fathom why he chose his fake ID to show that from all the places in this world, he was from freaking Hong Kong. There were fifty states to choose from, other English speaking countries, and he chose to pose as an international student on a student visa. He could most definitely look the part, but after looking at the ID he proudly slaps on the common room lounge desk, you deadpan. The yellowish tint to the card was way too suspicious to be taken seriously.

“I wish we could just ask Mark,” you sigh, and Haechan looks at you like you’re stupid.

“He’s 20, ya dimwit.”

“I know, that’s why I said I wish. You have serious hearing problems.”

Haechan stops typing on his laptop to shoot you an especially heated glare, and you’re reminded again why he’s #2 on your fight list, right above Yebin. First place was taken by the girl you almost actually fought at that one University party a town over, wherever she is you hope she’s having a terrible day.

“If it were not for the rules of this land, you’d be dead right now Haechan.”

Haechan places his head in his palms, and flutters his eyelashes disgustingly.

“But you love me.”

“Yes, as much as Mark loves social events. Speaking of Mark, how on earth did you get him to leave his cave?”

“It didn’t take much,” and before you can call him out for lying, he shushes you.

“Okay, maybe a few days of nonstop begging.” Haechan says as his eyes dart across the laptop screen. You raise your eyebrow. “And I might have threatened to release pictures from the photoshoot his mom made him take when he was younger.”

“I expected nothing less from your evil, evil, mind.”

He scoffs. “Hardly. Just resourceful.”

Resourceful he is, because Haechan is the one who ends up finding a plug for the alcohol that night.

…

A can of four loko, a bottle of soju, and a few shots later, you should be hammered, wasted even. But after 14 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days into college, your tolerance is pretty high, so you’re really just plain drunk. Even so, you’re a little messy (no surprise). You’re not in a state to be trusted with any errands, so you don’t understand why Haechan asks you to pick up Mark along the way to Johnny’s fraternity.

“Why do I have to do it?” you whine, putting your hand over your forehead, and Haechan only laughs at your dramatic display of despair.

“Because Johnny messaged me that Mark isn’t there, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him flake on me this time. ”

You point a finger at him, and he stifles a snort when you’re off by a couple inches. “Letting him flake on me, me, me as in you! It’s not my problem.”

But there’s no use in arguing with Haechan, and you know it. That’s why you find yourself stomping your way up the second floor of Mark’s dormitory like you’re in elementary school again, having just been scolded by your mom and being forced back into your room.

You knock at his door impatiently, and it feels like forever until you hear some shuffling, and see the door knob twist open. To be honest, it’s probably just a few seconds, but time is different when you’re intoxicated.

Before you even see him, it smells faintly of shampoo and detergent, so you’re not surprised when he opens the door and you see his hair is still half wet from the shower. He’s definitely party ready, and when you mean party ready, he’s wearing the same loose black tee and grey joggers he wears to sleep. His socks don’t match and you try not to laugh, because it would be a bad look for you, to show up intoxicated, and apparently crazy.

“Oh (y/n), what are you doing here? Oh shit is today Friday? I totally forgot, Haechan is going to kill me-'' He looks at you and then pauses, scrunching up his nose. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” you say sarcastically, but it definitely falls short of Mark because he looks at you like he does not believe you. Good, because he shouldn’t.

He sighs, and ushers you in his room. It’s dark, with the only light emitting from the little steel lamp on his desk, which is covered with his notes, pencils, a textbook, and some highlighters. When you finally make your way to his bed (with difficulty) he sighs again, and you silently scold yourself for having that mini drinking contest with Haechan. If you thought you could handle your alcohol well, Haechan was an absolute monster.

You nearly screech when Mark flashes a mini flashlight in your face, and he tells you to calm down before someone thinks he’s committing murder. He holds your face still with his index finger resting on your cheek and his thumb lifting your chin. You try your best not to squint when he tells you to, instead focusing on his face. He’s so close, you can feel his warm breath on your face. If you weren’t already so flushed from drinking, you suspect you’d look beet red now.

“Well, your pupils still dilate normally, so I don’t think you have alcohol poisoning-”

The world is moving a little, so you plop backwards on his bed— albeit a little harder than expected because he rushes over to you and looks concerned.

“-but I don’t think that’s the problem here.” he finishes.

Your eyes are closed, mainly because his bed is really comfy. “I’m here to pick you up.” and as if to emphasize your point, you wildly start pointing in all directions, hoping it would land on him.

You open your eyes when you feel him grab your finger and turn it thirty degrees to the left, just stopping at his chest. Your sense of direction must be really bad, because it turns out you were pointing at nothing.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere for awhile”

“Noooooo” you wail, and Mark lets go of your hand to sit back down on his desk, and unsurprisingly, begins reading his textbook again. How he is able to focus with you in the background, you don’t know, but it must have taken years of practice.

At this point, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You shove yourself off the bed and grab his arms from behind him. His roller chair scoots a few inches before he stops it.

“You’re not exactly making great case for yourself here”

“Stop making excuses!”

You aim straight towards the armpits, and you’re confused at the lack of reaction, so you reach over to squeeze his knee. Almost immediately, he crumples over, almost falling off the chair.

“Can you-” he says mid laugh, “please” he gasps, “Stop that!”

You respond by attacking his other knee, and it’s over. He falls off his chair and you go down with him. The difference is that he recovers quickly, and starts tickling you back in revenge.

You’re sensitive, so it feels like you’re dying. You try to use his arm as leverage to push yourself up, but next thing you know he’s toppeling over you. You close your eyes and wait for your head to kiss the cold hard floor but it never comes, because Mark's hand cradles your head, breaking the fall.

When you open your eyes, he’s closer than ever before, noses touching. Lips a mere centimetres away and in a weird embrace, you resist the urge to close the distance.

Mark has always been good looking, especially now, so close to you. You don’t know why you’ve never noticed it before.

When he pulls away he’s flustered, and for the first time, so are you.

It’s an awkward silence, with you still on the floor as he stands up, rubbing the dusk from his knees. He scratches the back of his head and offers you a hand

“Let’s head out,” he says.

“Yeah, let’s.” you echo.

…

Although Haechan berates you for being more than a little late to the party, he’s overjoyed that you somehow managed to show up with Mark. Not that he didn’t have faith in you anyways, he tells you. It’s just that Mark is married to his Biology textbook, and she runs a tight ship. By the time you reached the frat with Mark, you’ve sobered up enough to enjoy yourself normally,

It’s when you wake up in the morning, that you’re not okay. It’s not okay, because you dreamt of Mark, and that’s weird, because you and Mark were just friends, right? And you always will be.

It’s not a big deal because friends dream of friends. Dreams are a product of your own desires environment, you tell yourself, it’s perfectly normal because you spend so much time with him.

What is not normal, is when you see Mark the following Monday, and are worried about it. You’re nervous the whole time, and it gets worse when you slide the little watermelon filled tupperware container across the table in apology for last Friday. He likes his watermelon cut up into little cubes, you remembered (why do you remember?), and you avoid his eyes, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your face.

Mark, oblivious as usual, doesn’t really notice anything until 10 minutes in, as if your lack of rambling surprises him. Munching on the cubes, he asks if you’re okay.

“Yeah, I am.”

No you are not. You are utterly fucked.

…

“But you need to promise me you won’t judge or make fun of me for it”

“Just say it already, Jesus.”

“It’s just so embarrassing.”

“Oh my god, are you in love with me?”

“No!”

When placing your hands in your face, Haechan grants mercy on you, patting you on the back instead of teasing you further.

“I don’t know what else could be so important that you need to talk to me in person. Unless…. it’s about Mark?”

His hands stop soothingly rubbing your back and instead starts slapping it, waiting for you to laugh along with him. When he doesn’t get a response he gasps. Turning his head sideways to face you, he pries your fingers apart.

“No fucking way.”

“Right?” you moan.

“I was just joking, but I can’t say I didn’t expect it.”

You remove your hands from your face and look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you’ve known each other forever. You spend a lot of time together too. Someone was bound to catch feelings eventually.”

You don’t respond, instead choosing to sulk.

“You know I’m right. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re the loser in this situation.”

Right he is, because you’ve been avoiding Mark for the past few weeks like the plague. You’ve told him that you’ve been busy with your final term paper (you’re not, you’re an engineering major why would you have one?), and although he was a little confused, he was probably also a little thankful because the MCAT was only a month away.

As you tell him about your plight, Haechan listens thoughtfully, “mhming” and “ahh-ing” at all the right places.

“I don’t see how ignoring him helps you at all. I would say to just talk to him about it, but it’s Mark, he probably hasn’t thought about you that way at all.”

“Thanks,” you grumble. “So I’m basically one of the boys.”

“No really, mans might as well be the anemone from Nemo, I’ve never seen him interested in anyone.” Haechan sighs. “This is a tough one.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something, but I might have to get creative.”

“I’d like to see you try Hyuck.”

…

It’s 9pm Sunday night, and there’s a knock on your door. It’s strange you think, because it’s a Sunday, and it’s a little late to be doing anything.

When you open the door, there he is, Mark Lee in all his 5’9’ glory, with a little bag in hand, in it your favorite milk tea.

“It’s Sunday.” you say, intelligently.

Mark just chuckles. “Yes it is, and your point?”

You step aside so he can walk in, and you’re embarrassed at your current state. For once, you’ve finished your assignments early, so you’ve spent the past four hours in your pajamas watching K-dramas and snacking on honey chips. You must look like a bum.

Mark on the other hand, always looks good, even in some old dress slacks, and an old t-shirt with some holes in it. He smells faintly of antiseptic, so he must have just come from a volunteering shift at the hospital.

“It’s nice of you to drop by,” you poke the straw into the bubble tea. “And thank you for the bubble tea.”

“You’ve been busy recently so I figured you’d need it for the caffeine content, but it’s not like you sleep anyway.” he jokes. “How’s the term paper going?”

“The term paper? Oh right, the term paper. It’s alright,” you lie. “Just a couple of pages left. Beats having to take the MCAT though.”

Mark looks tired, with his hair slightly overgrown and his dark circles hallower than usual. You feel bad—he has a habit of overworking himself; you’re usually there to check on him but lately you haven’t, and he’s kind and thoughtfull enough to bring you something because he thinks you’re stressed.

“Yeah tell me about it,” Mark takes a seat next to you on your bed, head hitting the wall with a soft thump. “It’s going to be all over next week though, I can’t wait. I’ve missed you though.”

Busy silently cursing at yourself for the way your heart flutters at his admission, you forget to respond. Mark frowns, places his hand on your thigh in an attempt to soothe you, and it has the opposite effect—you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

“Is something wrong?”

“N-no.” you stammer. “Just stressed. ”

Mark makes things worse by leaning in closer, gently placing the back of his hand on your forehead. “You’re kinda hot.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, like I think you may be running a fever.”

He hops off the bed, and rummages around in his little black bag, and pulls out a thermometer. He places a little sleeve on the end, and motions for you to open your mouth. When it beeps, he takes it out of your mouth and looks at the result.

“Your temperature is fine, but you should rest. I’ll see you soon okay?” He pats your head. “Take it easy, I know you’ll do great.”

…

You might not have a term paper, but what you do have is a physics final.

The desk area is littered with eraser dust, crumpled paper, and half filled styrofoam cups of coffee that have since gotten stale. You swear to god that Physics was a subject meant to torture, not enrich the lives of college students. At this rate, you were seriously debating dropping out to become a stripper.

Haechan, not sensing your dismay, disrupts your plans to drop out by telling you something that puts a damper on the rest of your day, as if Physics wasn’t doing that already.

“Have you noticed that Mark’s been hanging out a lot with that one girl lately? What’s her name? So-bin, Yee-ben, Ben 10, ”

“Yebin,” you snap. “And don’t ever disrespect Ben 10 like that again. ”

Haechan lifts his hands up, “ I agree she’s a total bitch, but man is she hot.”

“Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better, not worse?”

Haechan’s face softens and for once in his life, looks a little sorry. “All I’m saying is if you don’t do something soon, someone might do it for you. I overheard her saying something about her and Mark going to spring fling together.”

He’s not wrong, but Mark, at Spring fling? At a Darty? Willingly? His idea of a good time was studying.

“You’re kidding,” you scoff. “As if he’d be caught dead at something like that.”

“I don’t know (y/n). He doesn’t really have much else to do now that the MCAT is over.”

Right, the MCAT. He took it last week. You mentally slap yourself for not asking how it went.

“Speak of the devil.” Haechan says quietly, motioning behind you.

There she is through the glass, Yebin, pulling a seat next to Mark, not before sneaking up behind him and planting a fat kiss right on his cheek.

…

Maybe if this were a movie, you’d cry all weekend and he’d make it up to you; But this is real life, so you secretly cry for a week and sulk for the rest of the month, blaming your puffy eyes on seasonal allergies (In real life, Mark can’t make it up to you because he did nothing wrong. He’s also not even aware that you like him, but that’s besides the point).

Despite Haechan’s attempt to convince you that it could’ve been just a friendly kiss, a greeting kiss, a whatever kiss, you insist that you’re done with your little crush, that it had shriveled up and died. Although not so convinced, Haechan drops the subject all together and instead resorts to comforting you in his own way, which mainly just consists of making fun of you about other things.

Mark is a touchy subject, and you’re still avoiding him. Why? You don’t really know. You know it’s not fair to Mark, who is probably very hurt and confused at your lack of communication. Nonetheless, he doesn’t question it, and is so infuriatingly mature with his emotions that you suspect that he even respects it, because he stops texting you after a while.

You feel bad about stonewalling him, leaving him in the dark, but really, what would you say to him?

“Sorry-I-haven’t-been-talking-to-you-it’s-just-that-I’m-in-love-with-you-and-I’m-butthurt-that-you-have-a-girlfriend-of-course-it’s-not-really-your-fault-but-”

You shudder at the thought, because it’s just plain embarrassing.

But really, you’re not the best at expressing your emotions—you’ve never been. Frankly, you’re tired of expressing your emotions because it never got you anywhere. Not with your mom, not with your dad, and definitely not with Yuta, who you dated for a year and half a year just to dump you like you were nothing.

It’s not worth it, to put your emotions on the line for anyone, not anymore. You locked your heart away a long time ago, and you were a fool to let it come out last time, and you like to think you learn from your mistakes.

At least, that’s what you think, until you return home one Sunday night from the library and see a little cup of your favorite milk tea at the door, with a straw neatly balanced on the top.

…

When spring fling rolls around, you still haven’t spoken to Mark, and if your friends catch on, they don't mention it. They know by now that you prefer to deal with things alone, to digest them for what they are and then promptly moving on—you know, like processing a death.

It doesn’t really matter, you think. You and Mark have always been friends, and will always be friends. Nothing more, nothing less. And when you get over yourself, things will be fine.

But really, how can it be fine when your whole world stops every time Mark looks at you?

You try not to dwell on it, even now weeks later. You’re busy getting ready to go out, blotting your lipstick on some tissue paper in your friend Yuna’s bathroom.

“(y/n), you look amazing.”

When you turn to look at yourself in the mirror she’s right; The mascara you put on your lashes really brings out the color of your eyes, and your skin (thanks to Yuna’s highlighter compact) is literally glowing. You feel really pretty.

You turn to smile at her. “Thanks to you.” you tell her, and she gets bashful, pushing you out of the seat and ushering you out the door. You make it down stairs no problem, but she calls you as soon as you walk out the door.

“Yes, I have blotting papers with me, and no, I am not dating Haechan I’ve told you thousands of times-”

“What about me?”

You turn around to find Haechan leaning against the dormitory wall, already waiting.

Embarrassed, you tell her you need to go and hang up the phone.

“How long have you been standing here? Hopefully not too long.” You apologize, but he assures you it’s all right.

“Are you sure your friends are fine with you leaving them early to go with me?”

“Yes Haechan, they’re just happy that I have someone to go with.” you sigh. “Almost too happy.”

He laughs, after looking at you, he pauses. “You look nice.”

“You do too, Hyuck.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he seems embarrassed at your compliment.

When you walk into the venue, you’re not surprised at how spacious it is. You’re used to your school going all out, from the kale salads and now, spring fling. They might as well call it spring semi-formal, because everyone is dressed their best.

You see Johnny at the end of the punch table, and he waves, motioning for you two to join him.

“And my favorite couple,” he greets you two, and you almost smack him upside down the head.

“Relax, I’m just kidding.” and he leans in for a hug. “How are you (y/n), I haven’t seen you in a second.”

“I’m good, just been super busy. You were so right, Professor Kim has been really keeping me on my toes in Physics 430,” you laugh. “Every time I walk into the classroom I can feel my life flash through my very eyes.”

He laughs, and you all laugh with him. Johnny tends to have that kind of effect on people.

“How’s Mark?” he asks, and you cringe. “It’s been a while.”

You laugh nervously “ I haven’t seen him in a while either.”

“Oh really. Don’t you see each other every week?”

“Well we used to,” you panic. “Just not anymore because, you know, I-”

“Because you’ve been so busy,” Haechan finishes.

Johnny gives you two a strange look but continues talking anyway.

“Well that’s life. Poor boy’s been studying for the MCAT like his rent is due tomorrow.”

“More like everyday.” Haechan snickers.

Johnny doesn’t hesitate to flame Haechan for his insolence, and begins teasing him for almost failing Calc II (Calc II was kind of hard you admit but that is an admission that will die with you), meanwhile, you’re whisked away by Yuna and her entourage. You glance at Johnny and Haechan, who bid you farewell with a nod of their heads.

It’s fun, you’re having a great time dancing, and eating mini hot dogs on a toothpick (you guess your university had to cut corners somewhere). When Roxanne plays, you and Yuna go wild, nearly knocking over a waiter over with a silver tray. You have so much fun, that you forget that Mark Lee exists until you make eye contact across the floor.

It's no surprise that he’s with Yebin, who looks annoyingly prettier than usual, with her makeup all done and satin dress. She’s pulling him in the opposite direction, but Mark seems to pay no mind, instead staying in place, looking at you. A moment passes, and you see him excusing himself. When he begins to head your direction. You panic.

Before you can even react, you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. When you finally turn to see who it is, you’re nose to nose with none other than Haechan.

“What are you doing?”

“Just go along with it,” Haechan whispers through his teeth. Your hands are pressed against his chest, and he grabs one of your arms, placing it around his neck.

“Go along with what? Have you lost your mind-”

Before you can finish your sentence, his lips press against yours and your mind goes blank. He tastes like peppermint and aftershave, with his lips soft in the center and just a little chapped around the edges.

When you two finally part, Mark is nowhere to be found, and you don’t know how to feel.

“Haechan I-” you stammer. “I need to go.”

You hurry off, and he doesn’t follow you.

…

When you’re outside, it’s cold; the air is brisk and definitely doesn’t help steady your breathing, it only makes it harder. It’s a lot to process, Mark, Yebin, Haechan. It’s a lot, and you feel like you’re in emotional overdrive, with all the feelings you’ve been trying to keep in for the past few months coming back to bite you.

You sit down at the edge of the fountain outside the venue, and you nearly get soaked. It misses you by mere inches, with the ceramic fish looking at you almost mockingly. You don’t care, with all the thoughts running through your head right now, you think you might go insane.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there at the fountain when you feel something wrap around you, warm like it was just taken out of the dryer. It smells familiar, like cologne and faintly of antiseptic—it smells like Mark.

You don’t look at him when he sits down next to you, legs open, hands crossed. And he doesn’t look at you. It’s radio silent.

“So you and Haechan, huh.”

“So you and Yebin.” you echo.

Mark looks at you for the first time, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh that.” He shuffles awkwardly. “I don’t really like her like that.”

Your head raises in surprise, and you face each other for the first time in months.

“I thought you guys had a thing.”

Mark scratches the back of his head. “Well we do, but it’s just in her head” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. “She came onto me last week, so I finally set things straight.” Noticing your reaction, he just shakes his head.

“I don’t think it worked though,” he adds.

“I would think, you’ve always been too nice for your own good.”

“I just didn’t want to hurt her feelings, you know?” he murmurs. “I feel terrible.”

“You’re not a terrible person just because you don’t like someone back.”

“Maybe not, but I believe not wanting you and Haechan to be together does.”

It takes a moment for his words to register within you, and even after you process them, you’re not sure what to say.

“We don’t like each other like that.” you interrupt him.

Mark looks visibly confused. “Then you and Haechan aren’t??” his voice falters.

“No more than you and Yebin. I promise you it’s not what it seems like.” you tell him and it finally clicks. You’d have to thank the idiot later. Right after you slap him.

Mark doesn’t question it, not even when you start crying. You don’t question it either, unsure of why you’re crying.

“You’re so stupid,” you sniffle. “I’ve liked you for so fucking long.”

Mark pulls out his pocket square to gently wipe the tears from your face, and places his hand on top of yours.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? You could have just said something.” his says softly

“I didn’t want to ruin anything. We’ve always just been friends.”

“I think we’ve always been just more than that.” he says, leaning in, hands cup your face gently.

“Just took some of us a little longer to realize.”

....

“That was very nice of you,” Johnny says.

“Yeah. Very nice.” Haechan echos.

“How long has it been, that you’ve liked her for? Three years?”

“Two going on three.”

Johnny lets out a low whistle, and looks down at the younger boy worriedly. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Haechan glances at you and Mark through the glass, outside the venue. With Mark whispering in your ear and you laughing, you seem so happy; happier than you’ve ever been with him.

“Yeah, I am. More than okay.”

345 notes · View notes

tarteausuga · 4 years

Text

maybe soon

Contents: fluff, basketball player! Johnny Featuring: Johnny x reader, other members of NCT sporadically A/N: there could potentially be another part... word count: 2.4k-ish

In which you’re the head athletic trainer of the basketball team that Johnny is the captain of...

"Mark, I know you can wrap it yourself. I've taught you multiple times." You breeze by one of the youngest players of the team who was begging you to wrap his ankle for him.

"You do it so much better though! I don't play as well if I do it myself." He whined as you rolled your eyes at him.

"You'll have to wait your turn then." You direct your attention to Johnny, the captain who has been nursing a sprained knee for the past few weeks. "Have you been icing it on and off like I've told you to?" You ask him but your attention is directed at his leg.

"Yes and I've been keeping it elevated. How can I not when you're in half of my classes nagging me during lectures?" He smirks at you but you don't pay him any attention.

"It looks a lot better now. I'll find you a knee brace and you shouldn't need to wrap it anymore." You smile, content with your treatment as you pin the bandage in place.

"You're a lot less scary when you smile, you know?" He jokes with you as you give him a slight push. Telling him to shut it before finally attending to the needy Mark Lee who is being touted as the next star of your university's basketball team.

You felt a lot of pride in your work with the team. Sure it was all for course credit towards your athletic training degree but something about it made you feel like you were part of the team. They relied on you and you often felt like you were supporting them through your work. You were never great at sports so this was your one way of being part of something that you love so much.

Your dedication had paid off as you had been named the head student trainer after years of running water bottles and hauling medical kits. Working under the advice of your professor, you were trusted to call the shots and unlike some of your classmates, your advising professor rarely questioned you.

"Alright boys, gather around." Johnny called out in his booming voice just as you were finishing up wrapping Mark's ankle. You then proceeded to help your junior trainers with packing up the kits and filling water bottles.

"Johnny is always watching you." One of the younger girls said to you and giggled.

"He's so hot, I wish he would look at me." Another girl pouted and you fought off the urge to roll your eyes in front of them.

You found that a lot of the students who signed up to be part of your team were mainly a) female and b) trying to get close with at least one of the players. It was frustrating on your end because it often meant more work for you as they were often too flustered or distracted to focus on their actual jobs.

"You know that I help to grade you guys, right?" You glare at them as you found yourself doing your kit inventories alone while they were busy giggling about the players.

"You're no fun. You can't possibly say you're not attracted to any of them." A third girl scoffed at you.

"I can honestly say that when you deal with their sweaty feet enough, they lose their allure." You lie as they all become visibly disgusted and finally start doing their jobs assigned by you. You stifle a smile as you look up and meet Johnny's eyes from across the room. The last thing you were going to do was admit to your juniors that you were interested in someone. And the second last thing you were going to do was tell them that the person in mind was none other than campus celebrity, Johnny Suh.

You approved the medical kits as Johnny dismissed the team and they proceeded towards the gym for warmups. You also sent your trainers to follow, reminding them to do their inspections of the gym and not ogling the team.

"Go easy on them." Johnny nudges you.

"That wouldn't be any fun then." You nudge him back.

"See? Much cuter with a smile on your face." He chuckles while running away before you can smack his arm.

There was always so much going on during game nights. The basketball team was the most popular on campus, beating out the soccer team somehow. There were hoards of fangirls in the stands screaming out the names of individual players. Then there was the band and of course, the cheerleaders but to no one's surprise, the players were the centre of attention.

Johnny seemed to thrive in this environment. He would flash a smile every once in a while to the girls in the stands, drawing screams sounding like they were in pain. You could even see some of the cheerleaders try not to lose their composure from the sidelines when they saw him push his hair out of his eyes.

"That kid is lucky he's great at basketball," the coach mumbled before shouting "FOCUS ON THE PLAY SUH!"

You couldn't help but fight back a chuckle as Johnny posted up a 3-pointer before saluting his coach.

---

The game was over and while everyone was returning to their respective homes to rest after the exciting win, you were back in the training room making sure the team started their recoveries well: Attending to bruises, strains and pre-existing injuries as quickly as possible. Johnny often sat back and watched you work. Laughing to himself whenever you made a quick comment towards any of the guys.

"Are you going to ask y/n out anytime soon?" Jaehyun, another popular player on campus, slid next to his captain.

"Nah I'm just going to get rejected. I've tried every year and it's always a no." Johnny smiles fondly at all of the times you've turned him down.

"You seem oddly happy about that." Jaehyun frowns.

"We spend more time together like this. We would have to be separated if we started dating. Conflict of interest or whatever but I still ask every year just to make sure we feel the same way." Johnny explains.

"And you're okay with the rejection…" Jaehyun tries to confirm but Johnny only nods, continuing to watch you work with the team. "There are other girls out there. You know that right?" Jaehyun suggested.

Johnny tried not to seem physically disgusted at the prospect. "I'm aware, Jaehyun. Thanks." He said in his low tone that often scared the other players.

"Alright, I'm just saying." Jaehyun slid away.

When the room quiets down and all of the team has trickled out, you're left with melted bags of ice and cut up pieces of athletic tape surrounding you. But you're not alone as Johnny seats himself across from you on the training table.

"Is it my turn now?" He smiles.

"You need to pay attention better," you sigh with a faint smile, undoing the bandages wrapped around his knee, "one slip and you're doing to hurt your knee again."

Johnny always had knee problems. He tore his ACL during your second year of university and it never fully recovered after surgery. That was probably the toughest year of Johnny's career, facing the fact that he likely wouldn't make his dreams of playing in the NBA come to reality. You tenderly apply ice to his knee as he winces at the cold.

"You worry too much." He says.

"You make me worry." You respond quickly.

"At least you feel something for me." He lowers himself to look up into your concentrated gaze.

"Let's not do this now." You look away and go make an ice bag for him.

"Oh come on, we always do this. I ask you out, you reject me, we bicker back and forth then we both quietly know the feelings are still there." He leans over you at the ice machine.

The best you can do is sigh and roll your eyes, "you're insufferable, Johnny Suh."

"And that's why you love me." He looks for an agreeing smile from you expectantly. You force one to appease him.

---

It was the morning before one of the last midterms of your university career. Nervous energy was all around as that classic air of tension flooded the campus as students wracked their brains with exam material. Your morning cup of relief, a coffee in your hand and Taeyong, one of your best friends and another member of the basketball team, talking your ear off.

"I spent all night making this tiny little cheat card my prof is letting us bring in but Yuta fucking spills water on it this morning, I was ready to kill the guy but-" he stopped talking when he noticed you stop dead in your tracks. He looked back to see you with a mortified look on your face. "Hey, what's up?" He gently touches your shoulder before turning towards your line of sight to see what had stopped you.

What he saw shocked him too. One of the cheerleaders who always made it known that she found Johnny attractive was seated on his lap in the food hall. He seemed disinterested but nonetheless, there she was. You immediately turn to walk the other way even though you were on your way towards your exam.

"Are you okay?" Taeyong struggled to catch up as you quickened your pace to make it in time while taking the long way around.

"It's fine, Taeyong. It's not like we're dating." You huff.

"I know but you guys like each other, don't you?" He asked.

"No," you lied, "I could never like someone like him so he can do whatever he wants."

"Hey." He finally stopped you.

"I don't have the time for this, I have to write my midterm." You slip away as you threw your untouched coffee in the trash. The thought of drinking coffee disgusted you all of a sudden. Your brain associated the beverage with Johnny as he was the one that introduced it to you during your first year of university.

You walked out of your exam and saw Taeyong waiting patiently outside. He had his fair share of fans around campus but he never entertained them as much as some of the other members of the team. He was often depicted as cold and scary so not many people approached him, unaware that he's one of the most kind-hearted people in your life.

"Hey, how did it go?" He asked you meekly.

"Pretty sure I bombed it," you sigh, "what about yours?"

"The twisted thing is that those cheat sheets force you to study so I guess I don't need to kill my roommate." You both laugh.

"Hey what are you guys laughing at?" You hear the voice you were dreading from behind you.

"I'll see you later, Taeyong." You say before quickly finding a new path for your afternoon.

"Is she okay?" Johnny asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"That's not for me to answer." Taeyong shrugs.

You try your best to act normal for practice that evening. You go through your usual motions of getting everyone taped up and ready but everyone seemed to notice your usual lack of spirit and friendly banter with the team. Even your junior trainers talk quietly about whether you broke up with Johnny despite you telling them repetitively that there wasn't anything going on between the two of you. You avoid his eye contact as their coach runs through their plays and generally avoid looking at him in general during the whole practice.

When the training room cleared out, you were left with Johnny again and you tried to rush through wrapping his ice bag onto his knee when he grabs your hand. He bends his neck down again to look into your eyes which were starting to fill up with tears.

"Hey what's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm just stressed about midterms." You turn away from him to wipe your tears.

"I'm sure you did fine," he uses his strength to force you to face him. "You're the smartest person I know."

"A lot of good that does me." You scoff.

"Did I do something?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Johnny. I'm fine." You insist but he's not convinced.

"Are you mad at me or something?" He finally struck a chord with you.

You can only look at him for a moment as you try to tell him why you're upset with him. How do you word this without making things even more complicated than they already are?

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just dumb and thought I was special but I'm just like every other girl out there for you. It's my fault." You try to force a smile but he only looks at you in confusion.

"Other girls? What other girls? Oh did you see me with…" he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he lets out a breath of frustration. "That bitch…" he mumbles to himself.

"What?" You say.

"You saw that, didn't you?" He read the expression on your face before continuing, "we were just talking about midterms when she suddenly sits on me. I asked what she was doing and she said she saw her ex and needed a cover because she's trying to get across the point that she's not into him anymore."

You continue to look at him, trying to figure out whether he's telling the truth when he continues his explanation.

"Did you see me touching her at all?" You shook your head in response. "I didn't want to push her off, I might have hurt her so I just let her be. Now I'm thinking she only did that because she saw you." He took your cold hands in his. "I only like you, alright? I've always liked you otherwise I wouldn't bug you so much about everything."

"But I keep rejecting and you can have literally any girl you want." You say quietly.

"And where am I? Hanging out with you whenever I can. Waiting for basketball to be over so we can maybe be an actual couple." He laughs.

"Really?" You ask with tear soaked eyes.

"Yeah." He says.

"That's… kind of dumb." You say with a soft laugh,

"Thanks, I love you too." He smiles, running his thumb over the lines of your hand.

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