#first thing i thought while drawing kai was “this makes no sense why is his sister veronica. why would she let zane kill him” then i thought | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keouil · 6 months ago

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inside me, a family

“and for god’s sake,” kuroo yells in the direction of the entrance. “can someone please get tsukki off flyer distribution! he’s scaring more people off than inviting them!” 3k. karasuno/nekoma. fluff. also on ao3.

“Nekokara.”

“What are you,” Suga grimaces. “A fujoshi? Why does it matter which team name comes first in the banner?”

Kuroo’s stubborn expression doesn’t budge an inch, nor does his posture. “Nekokara.”

“Karaneko,” Daichi suddenly pipes up, surprising everyone in the room. Noya and Tanaka have somehow strategically slithered their way at each of his side, very much looking like his personal bodyguards as they set to agreeing very loudly and verbally all the while massaging their captain’s shoulders. Go, Daichi-san! Defend our honor!

“Oh god,” Suga breathes out, palming his forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re in on this too?”

Daichi just smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. It doesn’t escape Suga’s notice that doing so just forces his muscles to protrude from his already annoyingly jacked chest, making even Kuroo stand up straighter.

"Karaneko,” Daichi repeats, pitching his voice lower and more demandingly.

Kuroo’s eyes slant to a glare, nostrils flaring slightly. Tora has somehow also miraculously materialized by his side, clamping a hand on his shoulder as he—just like Noya and Tanaka—begins his own verbal back-up of his captain.

“Neko—”

“Good Lord this will never end,” Yaku suddenly cuts in, stepping in between both teams and glaring long and hard at each captain until some of their confidence withers just so. Daichi defers almost immediately, while Kuroo pathetically lasts about five pitiful seconds. “Karaneko, Nekokara, whatever. It doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t we get started on more important things like how we’re actually going to pull off a damn bake sale?”

Kuroo opens his mouth to counterargue, but is, once again, pathetically silenced by Yaku immediately sending a seething look his way. It’s purely out of self-preservation that he shrinks into himself and zips his mouth altogether.

Yaku uses the temporary shift in power dynamics to pass around scraps of paper, aided by Asahi and Kai who also just want to get it over with.

“How the hell did we even get stuck with each other?” Tanaka whines, peering over the activity pamphlet for the coming week. “We’re not even from Tokyo. Coming here isn't cheap, you know.”

“Don’t you guys normally do this with Fukurodani?” Daichi says, squinting down at the roles Nekoma—meaning a vengeful Kuroo—had taken upon themselves to suggest under “recommendations”. Suga boldly rejects half of them on the spot. There is absolutely no way you’re letting my precious Tsukki be a garbage boy, Kuroo, the kid can’t even clean his own glasses.

“I’m not doing it with those private school kids again,” Tora huffs, annoyed. “Did you know they bring an actual physical therapist every time? Bokuto-san keeps complaining his arms cramp up from mixing the batter bowl every 5 minutes. And Akaashi just lets him!”

“Are you…” Suga blinks, slowly turning his head his way after giving Kuroo a scolding of a lifetime. “Did you just call us poor?”

All the color drains out of Tora’s face. Tanaka is quick to roll his sleeves up, sensing his senpai’s growing dissent, and is already making his way over to maybe pound Tora’s hairless head into the underground all the good that senseless brain does him—

“Maa, maa,” Kuroo strolls in between them just in time, after remembering he was actually Nekoma’s captain and that actually meant something and damn these crows. “The bake sale tradition raises money for both teams and boosts community morale among schools. And I just thought, well, wouldn’t it be nice for us dumpster kids to stick together?”

Daichi squints at him, disbelieving.

Kuroo surrenders. “Alright fine,” he sighs. “Coach made us draw lots. I can count in one hand all the schools Tora doesn’t have a restricting order against for picking fights with, but it’s kinda slim pickings. We’re just glad we didn’t get Itachiyama.”

"Damn,” Noya whistles his approval. “I pity whoever they end up with.”

Kai winces. “Then you’d better send your regards to Inarizaki.”

“The Hyogo powerhouse?” Asahi widens his eyes. “But doesn’t their setter and the Itachiyama ace have beef?”

Suga chokes on the water he was chugging, “Since when do you know the word beef?!” At the same time Yaku makes an ominous sign of the cross, mumbling his prayers for Kita. “May the Inari Okami be with you, Kita-san.”

“Alright guys, that’s enough,” Daichi clasps his hands together, earning a flinch from Asahi. “We don’t have time to be worried about the other schools. Anyone else notice how quiet it’s been for the past hour?”

Kuroo glances around the empty classroom, sniffing and assessing. Suga is already preparing his thinly veiled threats at whatever mayhem they were bound to discover at leaving their first years unattended. Daichi is just about to ask where the hell is everyone when a decidedly loud, horror-movie-piercing scream rumbles its way outside the hall.

A beat of silence passes.

Daichi and Kuroo exchange wary looks. “Your kid or mine?”

Kuroo just about has his mouth open to reply, when Suga stomps his way past everyone in a decisive manner, cracking his knuckles as he comes face to face with the door.

“I don’t care whose kid it is,” Suga warns, giving them a look over his shoulder. “They’re dead.”

“A little to the right.”

…

“I said right, Tanaka-san,” Kuroo snaps, baring his teeth. “Or we could always have Yaku spot you instead if you prefer?”

Tanaka stiffens as he holds unto the welcome banner, trying not to move too much unless he disrupts the structural integrity of the ladder he was precariously balanced on. Kenma was somewhere at the bottom and, he’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he saw him whipping out his PSP instead of holding the ladder steady like he was instructed. Tanaka's life is literally on the line and no one cares.

“Oi Rapunzel,” Kuroo barks, again, impatient. “Are we boring you?”

These goddamn cats, Tanaka thinks. Leave it to Kuroo to let Kenma off the hook again.

“N-no, Kuroo-san,” Tanaka mumbles shakily, moving the banner inch by painstaking inch until he feels Kuroo’s glare at his back dwindle into something like mild approval.

“Kenma,” he calls out suddenly, his tone softening. “Come here and check?”

Oh great yeah okay, Tanaka muses as he seethes with the wall, With Kenma it’s a question mark and gentle tone. With everyone else he’s an unrelenting dictator.

He feels movement below him as Kenma lets go of the single (!!!) hand he was gripping the ladder with rather precariously, that Tanaka has to plant his palms for purchase with the wall just not to topple over completely.

“What the hell—?” Tanaka turns, spotting Kenma’s mismatched head of hair, ready to swear down a number of profanities that’d make his own sister proud.

That is until he meets eyes with Kuroo and his single raised eyebrow. Almost protective, almost a challenge, almost a threat.

These goddamn cats.

“And for God’s sake,” Kuroo yells in the direction of the entrance. “Can someone please get Tsukki off flyer distribution! He’s scaring more people off than inviting them!”

Suga makes a face. Kuroo, native Tokyoite and just generally less introverted than everyone else, has since taken complete dictatorship of the planning committee for this supposed joint bake sale. He’s barked orders, threatened his own members, made Asahi cry once, got into multiple fights with Yaku, and repeatedly made clear to Bokuto that he absolutely cannot come and help because he will not come and help and Do you want all of our cupcakes gone before opening day? Cause Bokuto will 100% eat them all. Think of the children, Suga-san.

Suga is convinced he’s a little loose on the head and could potentially be a little unhinged, but they were country bumpkins who didn’t know the first thing about holding an organized event in Japan’s capital, and so lets him be for the most part.

Daichi, however, has always rebelled where Kuroo is concerned.

“Sorry,” Daichi says, straightening his back after carrying a box of measuring cups in. “But did I just hear you order around my first year?”

“There is no my and yours here anymore, Daichi-san,” Kuroo bats his eyes at him sweetly, smiling. “We’re a team now, remember?”

Daichi arches a brow, unconvinced and unyielding. “My first year, my demands.”

“Who trained him to be the middle blocker he is today?” Kuroo raises his chin.

Daichi is immune to 6-footer-intimidation-tactics. “Pretty sure his brother.”

That shuts Kuroo up straight away. Daichi’s shit eating grin that follows isn’t missed by anyone in the gym, and if possible, even a few members of Nekoma howl in pleasure.

“If we’re staking claim on just anyone now because this bake sale is apparently a lawless land,” Suga suggests pointedly from behind the counter, assembling an array of pastry brushes. “I veto Lev out of marketing.”

“What the hell has he ever done to you?!” Yaku shrieks by his side, halting his own arrangement of rolling pins. Kuroo is quick to follow up with, “The kid has the emotional comprehension of a five year old. He can’t even hurt a cat. We’ve seen it ourselves.”

By the water coolers, Tora begins nodding so vigorously Tanaka has to grab his head in fear of whiplash. Even Kai, setting up chairs and tables with Asahi and Noya, looks the slightest bit defensive.

“I have nothing against him,” Suga is quick to ammend. “But if he doesn’t stop offering 50% discounts, he’ll bleed us dry soon before we’ve even started.”

Kuroo gasps, affronted. "Lev did no such thing!"

Suga is just about to reply when they hear footsteps outside the door, making out a symphony of girlish laughs along with a decidedly male voice that sounded just like Lev accompanying them, singsongly promising: And that’s not all! First 30 customers also get a free picture with our captain! He's over 200cm, you know!

Kuroo’s shoulders slump. He blinks once, twice.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

"Kageyama, take off your shirt."

"Absolutely not," Daichi wheezes, stepping forward in front of Kageyama at the same time Suga seizes hold of the hem of his shirt, pinning it in place. "What the fuck, Kuroo."

Kuroo groans, pinching the bridge of his noise. "Look," he says, pointing at them. "The way I see it, someone needs to start showing some skin around here or we're going to lose."

Suga gives him an incredulous look, inching closer to Kageyama protectively, who still looked like a fish out of water munching on a test batch cookie Ennoshita and Narita asked him to try. "And you thought the minor was the way to go?"

"He's Oikawa's protege, isn't he?" Kuroo points out, matter-of-factly.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Daichi gestures wildly, exasperated.

Kuroo blinks. "Oh," he says. "You guys don't know."

Suga feels uneasy. "Know what."

Kuroo leans in, conspiratorially, like he's about to drop top-secret national-level information. "A classmate from econ class told me another bake sale was happening in the next building over. Another Miyagi and Tokyo collaboration."

"And?" Daichi furrows his brows. "There's hundreds of volleyball teams in Sendai."

Kuroo hushes him, not kindly. "Yeah, but no offense, up until a few months ago there really was only 2 schools other prefectures gave a fuck about."

Suga's expression is a mix of confusion and annoyance. "You couldn't possibly mean—"

"Oh, but I very well do," Kuroo grins, a sliver of teeth peeking through at the corners. "Favorites Seijoh and Shiratorizawa are apparently causing quite the ruckus and have already made their goal twice over. Ask me how."

Now it was Daichi's time to groan.

Kuroo snaps at him again, impatient. "Just do it, Sawamura! Am I asking for the world!"

Daichi grits his teeth, before letting out a very painful, very slow and labored, "How."

Kuroo's grin turns absolutely maniacal as he looks Kageyama up and down. "They're holding an auction to date Oikawa or Ushijima for a day."

"Shut up," Suga gushes at him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "They are not."

"Are too!" Kuroo squeals, growing more excited. "And didn't you hear me? They've met their goal. Twice. At this point they've probably funded at least another generation of those annoying preppy school athletes."

"It's not a competition," Daichi reminds him.

"Says the loser," Kuroo quips back.

Daichi holds his arms up in surrender, exasperated. "We are literally on the same team. Literally. You just said so like, five minutes ago. What I make, you make."

"Exactly," Kuroo zeroes in on him, sliding a hand over his shoulder and peering closer at him, eyes dilated and full of corporate greed. "And I want to secure a future for my kouhai," he continues, saying the next part in a deceptively enticing voice, "And you want that too, don't you?"

Suga feels his insides churn. "Daichi," he starts. "Wait. Don't—"

In the next second, Daichi's posture straightens into that of unyielding determination. The fine set of his shoulders and the arch of his jaw, so stubbornly straight and piercing. Suga blanches. Kageyama stiffens. They both recognize that look, know Daichi has gone to a point of no return and no amount of pleading will get through to him anymore. Suga is starting to seriously come to terms with the fact he might seriously have to end the day a cat murderer.

Daichi turns to Kuroo. "What do you need us to do?"

Oh God, Suga thinks, Kageyama is going to need so much therapy after this.

“Mom and Dad are fighting.”

"What the fuck,” Tsukishima says at the same time Kageyama snaps his head in Hinata’s direction to tell him, “No, they’re not.”

Hinata’s scowl deepens, a prickle at the back of his neck telling him to go against anything Kageyama believes in out of sheer principle. “Yes, they are.”

“No,” Kageyama stomps over to him, completely ignoring the baking pans Daichi asked him to clean. He makes sure to stand up straighter and lord that extra head of height over him. “They are not. Shut up.”

"Are too," Hinata taunts. "I heard them saying your name over and over again, too! Suga-san said something about putting his foot down. You did something, didn't you?"

Kageyama's eyes flicker briefly down at his shirt, before rising to glare at Hinata again. "Shut up! Did not!

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Tsukishima can’t believe what he’s seeing nor hearing. “You guys,” he tries to keep his voice level. “You guys seriously don’t call Daichi-san and Suga-san… Mom and Dad… right?” he laughs, an airy thing. “Right?”

They can’t even hear him, good lord. They’re in another one of those intensely and homoerotically charged eye contact competitions that not even Daichi can penetrate no matter how hard he tries. He gives it another few minutes before one of them—inevitably Hinata who has to strain his head just to even keep going—blinks because he needs to and cries out unjust treatment of the marginalized.

Stop trying to make short people oppression a thing, Yamaguchi snaps at him when he's caught in the crossfire. It’s never going to be a thing.

Kageyama always walks away smirking in satisfaction, maybe even a little amusement.

Tsukishima is sick of their back and forth and feels himself one more unwilling third wheel event before he locks them in a room and forces them to play 7 Minutes in Heaven or no volleyball forever again. And yes, he does mean forever: Daichi will simply have to find another setter and decoy.

“You guys are so fucking weird,” he mumbles instead, walking away to grab another stack of fliers to distribute around the block. Before he leaves he thinks he can hear Kuroo calling out for him, but when has Tsukki ever listened to his seniors?

The first half hour into the bake sale, they are a well-oiled machine.

Asahi, man of few words but will get triggered by potentially anything and everything, is highly encouraged—in Kuroo's words, with an underbite that absolutely threatened more than encouraged—to have the least amount of human interaction. Hence his current one-sided conversation with the wall as he diligently tied ribbons into cupcake boxes. Noya and Yaku, on the completely other end of the spectrum, the fastest of both teams and able to weasel their way into everything undetected much like subway rats: into the makeshift tables they go, cleaning up every drop of icing that so much as threatens to fall, and gone by the next second like wind.

The merry band of freshmen six footers—Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Lev, Inuoka—are designated waiters. If they're good for anything, which they are not, then let them be at least good looking coat hangers.

Hinata and Suga man the cashiers, Kenma making a digital receipt of every order as they go so they can track their progress easily. Kuroo and Daichi are the welcome committee, ushering customers into seats and able to spontaneously go into a passionate elevator pitch about the highs and lows of highschool volleyball on the spot that has all the mothers ordering at least another box of cupcakes to take home.

The rest of the team are slotted into respective roles that they attack with the same kind of devotion as they do in volleyball. Passionate, earnest, and all relishing in the integrity of a job well done. Karasuno and Nekoma, really and truly, at their core; work surprisingly well together. Maybe the best out of most teams in Miyagi and Tokyo.

And so all goes well for the first thirty minutes since the doors to the gym open and business is so far good. All goes well and everyone gets along and no cupcake is burnt and no first year is wreaking havoc unprompted.

All that is, until, well:

"Oh my god," one of the customers gush, pointing to Kageyama. "Isn't that Kageyama Tobio? Oikawa-san's kouhai?"

Kageyama stiffens, almost drops a plate full of piping hot egg tarts straight into Kai's lap. "I-I—"

Suga already clocked the customer from a mile away and was already heading over their way.

But Kuroo, longer limbs, gets there faster.

"Why, yes," he grins at them, pleased, beckoning Kageyama over. "That is, in fact, Kageyama Tobio in the flesh. Genius setter in the up and up."

Daichi squeezes the bottle of water he was holding onto, making murder eyes at Kuroo from across the room. Kuroo meets it with a glint of his own that could only say: Since you're not willing to pimp your freshmen out, let me.

The girls gush at the confirmation. More people notice. Some of them take out their phones and start rapidly typing.

"Oh my gosh!" one of them shout. "I knew it! I recognized him from Oikawa-san's fan page!"

"Right, right?" her friend nods along enthusiastically.

“Say,” one of them stands up, bravely coming just an inch closer into Kageyama’s space, peering up at him expectantly. “Are you guys also offering the boyfriend rental service?”

Kageyama looks like he’s being led to his own funeral. Kuroo only looks to be too happy to play judge, jury, and executioner.

Until someone coughs to catch their attention.

"Sorry," Hinata says, without a hint of remorse at all. "But he already has a boyfriend."

The room is blanketed in silence.

“What the fuck,” is all Kageyama is able to say, beet red in the face as realization sets in.

“Thank fuck,” is all Tsukishima is only too happy to say, shoulders sagging in timely relief. “Now will you two just bone already?”

"All this could have been prevented," Daichi says amusedly as they put away chairs and tables. "If you had just sold yourself first instead of sacrificing my freshmen."

Kuroo glances his way apologetically. "I’m sorry,” he says. “I really am. If I’d known Kageyama and Hinata were—”

“Please,” Daichi raises a hand, stopping him. “Even Kageyama didn’t know. I bet he still doesn’t. They’re both oblivious fools, just Hinata less so.”

“Still,” Kuroo insists.

“Still,” Daichi agrees.

Then they both break off with a good-natured laugh, shaking their heads in amusement at the whirlwind of a day. Kuroo is just about to stack another chair when he says, “You know maybe I should have agreed to Lev’s suggestion earlier. The picture thing. But—ah.”

"But what?" Daichi gestures for him to keep going.

The tips of Kuroo's ears turn a shade of pink, and he can't quite meet his eyes. Outstanding conversationalist and top salesman in the making, Kuroo. This douses Daichi into full attention faster than a block of ice.

"Oh my god," Daichi snaps up straight, abandoning the chair. "What. What did you do."

"It's not me!" Kuroo has his hands out in surrender. "I just—" he starts, tries, fails. Daichi is itching to get his phone out to document this for future blackmail purposes. "...I just… have someone who'll be, um, n-not…—happy, I guess. If I look available."

Pretentious use of words, curses Daichi internally. But thank God he actually had comprehension skills.

"Dude," Daichi says, now just annoyed at Kuroo tiptoeing around him. Like he felt the need to. "So you're with someone too. Why not just say that in the first place?"

Kuroo shrugs, unsure. "We're still taking it slow?"

Daichi considers him for a moment, considering all he's observed today. "Weird," he notes. "That's not what Kenma looked like to me."

Kuroo's head snaps in his direction. "What the fuck," he says, breathless. "You knew?!"

"My brother in Christ," Daichi comes up to pat his shoulder, wincing a little. "We all knew from the beginning, you absolute baffoon of a pining idiot. If it makes you feel any better, Kenma is only slighter better at you than hiding it. You two make all of us sick."

Kuroo is barely processing his words, blinking rapidly at Daichi's slightly amused but mostly fond expression as he registers the genuineness that bleeds through. But alas, God didn't make Kuroo this fine of a specimen without sprinkling in some sinful traits every once in a while. Cats live nine lives, after all, he was good as immune.

"Oh yeah?" Kuroo combats, standing up straighter to look Daichi dead in the eye. "Like you and Sugawara are any better."

It takes less than a second for all of Daichi's face to heat up. And Kuroo, able to rise to his full height and forcibly hold Daichi's simmering head a good arm's length away from him, looks on at the rest of Karasuno and Nekoma walking and laughing and chatting idly about the gym as they pack up, the sun just shy of setting and Kenma smiling at him slightly from across the room: decides then that yeah, this life isn't so bad after all.

#kagehina #kuroken #daisuga #kurotsukki #kurodai #karaneko #nekokara #karasuno #nekoma #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #kuroo tetsurou #kozume kenma #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #tsukishima kei #haikyuu #fic

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cosmicawg · 4 months ago

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𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 @kay-m-sinc 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞!

Okay so, this is my first time joining a challenge! Hoepfully I got day one good and well!

📌Tags by: @kay-m-sinc

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

His day started off like every other: the shrill blare of the alarm yanked him from sleep an hour late, leaving him groggy and disoriented. The moment he stepped outside, his car sputtered and died on the spot, forcing him to walk, and yes he missed the bus. By the time he staggered into work, he was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin, and he smelled like a public toilet. He’d tried to mask it with those "shower-in-a-wipe" things, but the way everyone was avoiding him spoke volumes—it clearly hadn’t worked.

God, I hate this place, he thought bitterly, and it showed on his face, too. His forehead was wrinkled, brows furrowed in frustration. God, I just want to go home.

"Hey, pansy boy, where are those damn papers? I ASKED over an hour ago!" his manager stormed in, voice booming.

"Sorry, sir, I forgot is all..." he muttered, keeping his gaze down as he got up and walked past the older man, the smell of cheap cologne and sweat suffocating him.

"Knew your type would be a damn waste around here. Psh, maybe you should stick to being a hairstylist. Leave the job to real men."

He swallowed the sting of those words like he did every fucking day. But, God, it hurt. It hurt so much to wake up to another crappy day and show up to a job where people looked down on him. He sucked it up, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he tugged at his tie, feeling the fabric constrict like a noose. He trudged over to the copier, loaded it with papers, and pressed the button. WHAM. "Ah, what the hell!" He jerked back as dark smoke billowed from the machine, the acrid smell filling the air.

His eyes watered, the weight of weeks of hard work crashing down on him—WEEKS of staying late, pouring every ounce of effort into his job. "UGH! FUCK YOU!" he shouted, kicking the machine, his foot regerting as he winced in pain, connecting with a dull thud. Frustration pulsed through him, and he turned limping away, fleeing the scene. He didn’t care anymore. Every time he tried, tried, and tried, nothing ever went his way. It felt like the universe was conspiring to make him suffer.

He shoved his way into the breakroom, finally alone. As he leaned against the wall, he sniffed, unkempt tears sliding down his cheeks, stinging as they fell. It felt like grade school all over again—crying alone, feeling sad and pathetic. His nose burned as he tried and failed to muffle his cries, each sob echoing the loneliness he felt.

"...Nathan?" a voice broke through, startling him. He jerked his head up to see Ramario, a coworker, he didn't hang out with the people here outside of work, why would he? They all suck. But, he made an exception for Ramario. They’d go out for coffee sometimes, and he’d ramble on about his own crappy life.

Oh my god, how long has he been there? Embarrassed, Nathan mumbled an apology, wiping his cheeks. "Relax, come sit." the man chuckled patting the seat by him.

This time it felt different; here he was, lazying off work, spilling his guts to someone who probably didn’t care. "I'm really trying... It's not like I want to give up, but, God, it’s difficult not to."

Ramario handed him a tissue. Nathan sniffed, a chuckle escaping him as he took it, drying his eyes. "I must look so pathetic right now. I’m sorry, I... don’t mean to bother you."

"Bother me? Ouch, and here I thought we were friends," Ramario said, flashing a wide, toothy grin that made Nathan feel a little lighter.

"We are! I mean..."

"Then what are friends for if they don’t listen to their friends ramble every once in a while? You don’t have to hide anything from me. What’s the sense in struggling alone when you have me?"

Nathan’s heart swelled, and he felt the familiar prick of tears again. Everything sucked, everyone was a jerk, but not Ramario—not his friend. "Oh, by the way, there’s this two-for-one special at Momma’s Pizza. Want to go after work?"

"Yeah... I’d like that."

—courtesy of cosmicawg

(ah I hope i did it right!)

#kaychallenges #october writing challenge #October writing challenge 2024 #my writing #writers and poets #writers on tumblr

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gripefroot · 1 year ago

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Crooked Ways [20/22]

Hiya! It's been a busy few weeks so I haven't gotten around to updating. I'm very sad to be winding down this story. I started it exactly one year ago and the writing process was so fun but also healing to me. I've been surprised and incredibly grateful at how many people have been reading and enjoying it. Thank you for every note and message. I treasure every single one 🫶

Just one night.

Vegeta scanned the crowds of dancers without much thought, occasionally letting his eyes drift over to tables or the buffet line. No one with a significant power level. None that took a second look at Bulma after coming face-to-face with Vegeta’s best scowl. In fact, a few people that found themselves in their way scuttled like crabs, leaving the space clear in front of them. If Bulma noticed, she didn’t say anything about it, each toss of her head sending more of that delicious scent straight to Vegeta’s nose, making him feel stupid.

Her usual perfume? Yeah, right, and he was the bastard child of the Supreme Kai.

“Food first?” Bulma asked, leaning closer to murmur into his ear. Vegeta breathed in deeply, eyelids fluttering madly as he tried to clear his throat and square his stance.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he intoned, hoping she didn’t hear his voice crack on the final word.

“I say let’s say hello to the people that’ll complain to Dad if I don’t,” she said with a sigh. He noticed her fingernails digging into his forearm, even through his suit coat. “Then our duty will be done and we can enjoy ourselves the rest of the night.”

“I thought you liked people.” Vegeta let her steer him towards a table, nonetheless.

“Usually,” Bulma said. “I…don’t like people who treat me like I’m still a little girl. And I don’t like anybody when I just want to be home in bed.”

“In bed with me, I hope.”

She cast him a look, but he saw her lips quiver enough to know she was hiding a giggle. “I don’t think I know how to sleep alone anymore, honestly,” she told him, and he didn’t bother stopping his chest from puffing out. Any Saiyan would be proud to hear such a thing.

Bulma may not know it, but her words (and smell) made Vegeta’s brain a fuzzy, pleased place to be despite being introduced to a mass of insignificant earthlings. He shook hands and nodded but never smiled. Not that it mattered. Bulma smiled enough for both of them.

Vegeta wondered if anyone else thought her smile was as perfect as he did.

If they did, he’d have to kill them.

He sensed a higher power level and recognized it before the voice reached out to them, before Bulma pulled herself away from laughing with an elderly man to address the interruption behind them. Vegeta’s mind already on killing, he didn’t bother an attempt at polite overtures when they turned to see Yamcha’s stupid smile and wave.

“Yamcha?” At least Bulma sounded more surprised than happy.

“Bet you didn’t expect to see me here.” Yamcha wiggled his eyebrows. “How are you doing, Bulma?”

“I’m…fine. Why are you here? How did you get a ticket?”

Vegeta noted that Bulma’s hand on his arm had gone cold. If he weren’t perfectly still to assess this new threat, he might have covered her hand to warm it (better blood flow meant a better chance of surviving a battle. Not for any other reason.)

“Your mom offered me one a while back,” Yamcha said, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “I would’ve come as your date, but after last time…”

Finally the man’s eyes landed on Vegeta. Vegeta saw fear and apprehension, dashed with disgust. He grinned. The memory of decking Yamcha on the Capsule Corp compound lawn was still something he treasured, sometimes relieving the moments at nighttime before falling asleep with a smile on his face.

“I think,” Yamcha said slowly, brows drawing together. “I think I don’t know what’s been going on at Capsule Corp since I left.”

“Why should you?” Bulma asked. Her nails dug fibers of fabric into Vegeta’s skin. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him on edge. “You never call. Except to talk to my mom, apparently.”

“She called me!”

“What do you want, moron?” Vegeta barked. “We’re trying to enjoy ourselves.”

“Sheesh! I only came to say hi.”

“You said it. Now go.”

The brisk dismissal seemed to incense Yamcha, whose stance squared against Vegeta as if he were actually a threat. Vegeta laughed. “You don’t get to order me around!” Yamcha said. Then, eyes flicking between the pair of them, he added on, “Aren’t you supposed to be training to beat the Androids, Vegeta? But you’re playing boyfriend?”

“I’m strong enough to defeat the Androids ten times over,” Vegeta said softly, fists clenching in his pockets. “Naturally you wouldn’t know that level of power.”

“Stop.” Bulma tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s go eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said without looking in her direction. He only saw Yamcha, a face swimming in the crowd distorted with rage and hate.

“Oh, are you that powerful, really?” Yamcha sneered. “Are you a Super Saiyan like Goku yet? Or could he still put you in the ground like he did the first time?”

“Stop!” Bulma said again, this time louder. But now she said it to Yamcha, putting out an arm between them. “Yamcha, you jerk. Go away. If you won’t listen to Vegeta, who can break every bone in your body, listen to me.”

Yamcha’s expression twitched, gaze dropping from Vegeta’s face to look at Bulma. The drooping, puppyish frown that appeared made Vegeta laugh again, the noise harsh and delighted.

“Listen to the woman,” Vegeta ordered. “She doesn’t want you here.”

“I can see that,” Yamcha said bitterly. “If she chooses the enemy over her friends.”

“Now wait just a minute - ” Bulma’s exploding temper shut off when Vegeta clamped a hand over her mouth. It wasn’t worth it: Yamcha had turned tail the moment he finished his parting shot, disappearing into the crowd. Her fingernails dug into the back of his hand to pull it away from her mouth. “Let me at him, Vegeta! Let me make him pay for what he put me through!”

She already took a step in the direction Yamcha had gone, and he was forced to pull her back. An unusual amount of aggression, even for Bulma, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. She was pretty when she was furious; all sparking anger and brilliant flashes in her eyes. Her scent riled up, too, and it was all Vegeta could do not to squash his nose against her neck and breathe her in until she was no more.

Interestingly, he’d forgotten all about Yamcha.

“Ugh!” Bulma stomped her foot, drawing a few curious stares from around them. The urge to shield her from prying eyes rose in him faster than a tidal wave, and he stomped it down just as quickly. He sufficed the situation by putting his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to face him.

“Bulma,” Vegeta said. A thrill coursed through his chest when her eyes landed on him; darkened and dangerous and gorgeous. “Now is not the time for a fight. For one thing, these clothes aren’t appropriate for combat.”

“I don’t care!”

“And what about your father? If you ruin his company’s gala by murdering a guest?”

Her lips protruded in a pout he was deeply tempted to catch between his teeth and suck until she was swollen and bruised purple. Swallowing, he dragged his eyes up to hers to soak in the beauty of her rage.

“Fine,” Bulma snapped. “No murder. You’re no fun.”

“It’s more than he deserves. You’re better than him.”

Her face began to clear of aggravation. Now she simply looked annoyed, not murderous.

“When you kill someone,” Vegeta went on, “it should be someone worth more than you so as to prove your power.”

Bulma blinked several times. He couldn’t think of how what he’d said might be confusing or unclear, so he didn’t clarify. Finally she sighed. “Good to know you haven’t changed that much, Vegeta.”

“Of course I haven’t changed. Why would I?”

“Never mind.”

The evening had crested early. Guests remained to be greeted, food to be eaten, and an obligatory dance where everyone could see them that Vegeta thought would make a brilliant torture tactic in the Frieza Force were Frieza still alive. Every second was hell: the music, the steps, the stares, the whispers.

Worse than that was how much he liked having his hands all over Bulma and her arms wrapped around him. And how bearable her presence made this otherwise torture.

“Human dances are simplistic,” Vegeta grumbled. Cheeks pressed together, he heard her tinkling laugh right in the shell of his ear. “I’ve seen more backwards planets produce more intricate dances than this!”

“Oh, honey. This is a social dance, not a professional troupe. I promise there are better dancers out there than the Capsule Corp employees.”

“Tch.” He squeezed her hand tighter.

“Don’t tell me you’d rather learn a more complicated dance!” Bulma pulled enough to laugh in his face, which made his cheeks feel hot.

“No, of course not! I’m only saying it’s not a very impressive set of steps.”

“But it’s easy.”

Vegeta grunted in agreement. Swaying in circles didn’t require much experience or skill, just a willingness to keep moving and to hold a woman in his arms. His woman.

“Oh!” Her arm lifted from his shoulder. “My dad is coming to cut in.”

“Cut into what?”

“The dance, silly. He’ll take your place to dance with me. You can go sit or stand somewhere, I’ll find you after.”

And just like that, Vegeta lost his woman to her father. Glad to leave the dance, loathe to release her. It wasn’t until Bulma flat-out tugged her hand out of his with a reproachful look that he managed, stepping aside for Dr. Briefs.

“I won’t be long,” Dr. Briefs told him with a smile, already swinging his daughter into a more polished version of the dance. “You can have her back when I’m done.”

Saiyans had killed other Saiyans for less.

Vegeta stuck his hands in his pockets, expertly missing the other couples dancing nearby to leave the floor uncontested. His stomach rumbled to remind him that that pathetic single plate of food he’d consumed between introductions wasn’t enough to satisfy him. But instead of walking towards the buffet line, which was significantly shorter as the party dragged on, he found a blank space on the wall, outside the dazzling light of the chandelier. Leaning his back against the wall in a semblance of perfect relaxation, he crossed his arms and let his eyes drift closed.

Let the humans think him a miserable wretch. Rather that than talk to any of them.

He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong in any places like this on any planet. In fact, when he really dug his mind in to think about it, he couldn’t recall any time that he’d felt true belonging. Even in the field, performing massacres at Frieza’s every order or spending nights with the other soldiers he’d been apart. Memories of his earliest childhood at his father’s palace proved spotty and only produced feelings that jolted between sour arrogance, suffocating loneliness, and the intense need to earn the king’s approval.

Vegeta had shuttered around the universe too much to call any place his home. Nor had he wanted to, when having a home proved to be such a target for a madman’s destruction. And now that Frieza was gone and Planet Vegeta was gone and Vegeta no longer part of an army: where did that leave him?

Here. He was here.

I have no ties to Earth, either, he thought to himself. The lie was acrid, burning beneath his skin as if his very blood howled in protest. So what if it was a lie? No one knew but himself. No one knew the roots growing from the cracks in his feet, from the arteries to his heart.

Perhaps because Vegeta was so in tune to her tenor of voice, perhaps because her laugh was just that loud - his head jerked up at the sound of Bulma laughing. The music had picked up to a faster pace, her dad twirling her expertly around.

This was her world. Her place. Her home. She belonged here in a way Vegeta would never, could never belong anywhere, because this had been her home since she was born. If he meant to honor her claim on him, to honor his claim on her - to take her away from this would be a cruelty beyond imagining. And for what? He had nothing and no place. No planet, no home, no people.

He’d only ever been a smudge, unwillingly allowed across the brightness of her life for an indeterminable and finite amount of time. Time that was running out, and he’d done the stupid thing and all but made her his mate in the Saiyan way.

For once, pride and blood tore him in different directions. One towards her, one away. Both with equal strength in his body, neither to be ignored.

When the song ended, Bulma disappeared from the dance floor. Vegeta barely had time to sense her direction before she appeared in front of him with flushed, vibrant cheeks and a smile brighter than any sun in any solar system.

“Told you I’d find you,” she said breathlessly. “Mom and Dad are going home, they said we can ride with them if we’re ready to leave.”

“I’m ready,” he said at once.

“Let’s go, then.” Bulma’s fingers wrapped through his, unraveling his uncompromising stance until he sulked after her bounding steps to the exit. Her exhilarating scent wrapped around him like a shroud, driving away his unhappy thoughts until his blood sang for her, and only her, and when she turned to beam at him, Vegeta grinned back.

Sharing a car with her parents had been a bad choice.

The backseat had two rows of seats facing each other, meant for socializing. Instead of sitting in the seat beside Bulma, Vegeta was pushed aside to make room for a massive bouquet of flowers someone had gifted Panchy at the party. His nose itched at the scent, cloying and too sweet. Meanwhile the others chatted about who they’d seen and who they hadn’t seen, laughing at dredged up memories and so-and-so or this-and-that.

Next time, they weren’t sharing a car.

There won’t be a next time, immediately followed that thought, and he stiffened in his seat. A fist resting on his knee, flaring conflict building in his chest until he was sure he’d choke aloud.

When the car finally stopped at the front entrance of Capsule Corp, Vegeta was slowest to start moving. By the time he climbed out of the car, squinting in the bright lights that bathed the front steps, Bulma had dashed around the car, holding her skirt in her hand.

“It’s a full moon,” she said. “Did you see?”

“No.” He started up the steps. Dr. Briefs and Panchy were already heading through the doors inside.

“Oh.”

Halfway to the top he realized she hadn’t followed. Turning, Vegeta scowled at her still by the car, hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me you expect to be carried,” he said. “I know you didn’t have a single glass of champagne.”

“You do get grumpy during full moons!”

“I do not!” He stomped back down the stairs. Bulma’s teal curls were falling from the elegant hairstyle she’d had earlier, strands gracing the curve of her neck and cheeks so beautifully that Vegeta got even more frustrated. Without a word he bent to hoist her over his shoulder, jogging back up the steps a second time.

“Why do you always do this?” she screeched. “I’m capable of walking, thank you very much!”

“Because I’m sick of you taking your sweet time! You’re wasting mine, too, you know!”

“I can waste whatever I want!” Bulma kicked out a few times, but Vegeta just jostled her until she stopped. Which was wise on her part, because otherwise he would have turned his head to bite her luscious backside.

The further away from the front entrance, the fewer lights were on. Briefly he considered stopping by the kitchens or the pantry but he dismissed the idea in favor of a better one. They could always eat after they worked out their frustrations with each other behind closed doors.

And that they did. It was her bedroom tonight, and after Vegeta tripped on two pairs of shoes and a tool belt he nearly howled, dropping Bulma onto her feet to start tugging at her dress with abandon.

“I hate these clothes,” he panted a few minutes later. Buttons popped off his shirt to litter the ground, but from Bulma’s aggression, not his. He’d torn the straps of her dress from her shoulders until it hung at her waist, exposing her breasts.

“You hate everything,” she said through gritted teeth. Having trouble taking off his suit coat when his head was buried in her chest. Vegeta didn’t bother correcting her, fondling a breast in one hand while he tried to kick off his shoes. Her scent was sharper and richer next to her skin. He hadn’t imbued any alcohol but he may as well have with how dizzy he felt. “Vegeta! Vegeta, just stop! It’ll be easier if we get undressed first.”

With a snarl he pulled away, wrenching open his trousers to add another button to the confetti on the floor. Bulma shimmied her dress down her hips. He stared, hopping on one foot to get out of his stupid trousers. Stupid clothes, stupid everything - he’d never wear this again. Only clothes that could be easily removed.

“Ooh!”

Her cry turned to a satisfied sort of moan after he grabbed her again, lifting her to straddle his hips while he made a clumsy path for the bed. Stepping on buttons and whatever else Bulma left lying around, all poking his feet. He didn’t care. He needed her like a dying man needed water; he needed to taste her and be inside her. Lips met in sloppy haste, Vegeta biting after her when she pulled away for breath, her fingers tight on his shoulders and her eyes opening and closing fast.

“Why does it feel like this?” Bulma whispered. Cradled by the bed and pinned down by him, she still managed to rock against him, her neck craning. “Why is it different tonight?”

“Maybe it’s the full moon.” Vegeta hadn’t thought himself capable of joking at a moment like this, but maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. A moment’s thought and he added, “It’s the way you smell. It’s making me…maybe it’s making you feel it, too.”

“Then it’s going to be a good night.” A dazzling, kiss-swollen smile, and he felt her hand push his head down towards the junction between her legs. “I have a feeling I won't need to stop you tonight. Maybe I have Saiyan stamina now.”

The words falling from his lips in response to hers weren’t in her language, but she didn’t comment on it. Vegeta’s teeth sank into her thigh, his hand tucked behind her knee to lift her leg so his mouth could reach more skin. He could taste nothing else for the remainder of his existence and it wouldn’t be enough. What was it that had turned her from enjoyable to intoxicating? Where did an addict slip over the line into insanity where he couldn’t control his muscles, couldn’t control his mind?

Couldn’t control his blood, couldn’t control his pride.

Here. He was here.

“Bulma,” he murmured. Kissed the tendons that made her body, licked the skin, kneaded the muscles. She twitched and quivered with every touch, her head lolling on the pillows. Impatient for him to continue, no doubt. If she could hear him, she didn’t say so. Perhaps she was as senseless as him. Despite not having spoken the Saiyan language for years, it was easier to slip into phrases he thought he’d never say, feelings he’d never thought he’d feel, when he knew Bulma couldn’t understand. Couldn’t ask, couldn’t confront. It was just for him. Just for him and no one else.

“Bulma,” he said again, his tongue swirling around her sex and she keened into the night, legs shaking around his head. “Bulma, you are my queen.”

#bulma x vegeta #vegebul #dbz fanfic #dragon ball

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doodler17 · 1 year ago

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OK SO

AASIMS FAMILY WAS REALLY POOR SO THEY KINDA YKNOW SOLD HIM TO THE ROYAL FAMILY IN HOPES OF GETTING SOME CASH. AND HE BECAME KASAIS GUARD. HE WAS AROUND HER AGE SO IN THE ROYAL COUPLES EYES IT MADE PERFECT SENSE. AASIM ORIGINALLY HATED WORKING FOR THEM BECAUSE HE FELT LIKE HIS CHILDHOOD WAS SOLD AWAY. SO TO COPE WITH IT ALL HE TOOK UP DRAWING. HE FOUND IT VERY PEACEFUL AND WOULD HANG THEM UP IN THE ROOM HE WAS GIVEN. ETSU HAD BARGED INTO HIS ROOM CRYING BECAUSE OF SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED AND SAW ALL OF HIS DRAWINGS. (SHE HAD NEVER SEEN THE OUTSIDE WORLD BEFORE AS I SAID SO SHE WAS AMAZED LOOKING AT THE DIFFERENT SCENES. AASIM HAD THOUGHT THAT SHE WOULD MOCK HIM FOR TAKING UP SUCH A HOBBY BUT INSTEAD SHE HAD RAN OVER TO HIM WITH STARS IN HER EYES ASKING SO MANY QUESTIONS ABOUT HIS ART. HE WAS SHOCKED SINCE HE DIDNT KNOW THAT SHE WASNT ALOUD TO SEE THE OUTSIDE WORLD AND WAS HONESTLY A LITTLE CONFUSED ON WHY SHE WAS SO INTERESTED. BUT NONETHELESS HE ANSWERED HER QUESTIONS AND SHOWED HER WHERE EACH OF THE PICTURES WERE FROM. THEY GREW CLOSER BECAUSE OF THIS AND HE STARTED TO NOT DREAD THIS JOB HE HAD BECAUSE HE HAD ONE THING A CHILDHOOD NEEDS IN HIS EYES AND THAT WAS A FRIEND. (ITS SO CUTE WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG).

WHEN ETSU WAS CROWNED QUEEN HE WAS HAPPY FOR HER. BECAUSE HE KNEW SHE DIDNT WANT TO GO TO THE NEIGHBORING KINGDOM. BUT WHEN HER DAD STARTED YELLING AT HER HE JUST KNEW HE COULDNT STAND BY AND LET HIS FIRST AND ONLY FRIEND GET INSULTED LIKE THAT. AND TECHNICALLY (KID LOGIC COMING IN) THE DAD WASNT KING ANYMORE AND IF ETSU SAID HE WAS OK TO KILL HIM HE WOULDNT BE IN TORUBLE. SO HE WALKED UP TO HIM WITH HIS SWORD IN HAND (HE OBVIOUSLY COULDNT HOLD A GREATSWORD AT THE TIME THE SWORD WAS PROBABLY TWO TIMES THE SIZE OF HIM) AND STABBED HIM RIGHT IN THE STOMACH. (HE WAS SMILING THE ENTIRE TIME THE OLD KING FELL TO THE FLOOR AND BLED OUT)

A COUPLE HUNDRED YEARS LATER DURING THE WAR AASIM WAS TOLD TO PROTECT THE KINGDOM WHILE ETSU WENT OUT TO FIGHT. BY NOW HE HAS A FEW OTHER FRIENDS THAT ARE HELPING HIM WITH PROTECTING THE KINGDOM BUT THEY HAD ALL DIED BY AASIMS OWN LIGHTNING POWERS OVER THE COURSE OF 2 YEARS. (DURING THE WAR HE DIDNT HAVE A LOT OF CONTROL OF HIS POWERS AND THEY WOULD OFTEN GO IN THE WRONG DIRECTION) WHEN ETSU RETURNED SHE SAW HIM LOSING PRETTY POORLY IN A BATTLE AND QUICKLY RUNS IN TO HELP HIM. AFTER THEY WON WITH KASAIS HELP SHE COULD SEE THAT HE DIDNT LOOK TO GOOD MENTALLY. THE QUICKLY DRAG HIM OFF TO A SECLUDE PLACE THAT NO THER PERSON CAN COME TO AND CONFRONTS HIM ON IT. HES TRYING TO DENY IT BUT SHE CAN READ HIM EASILY. AND EVENTUALLY HE BREAKS DOWN TELLING HER THAT HES FAILING HER AND THAT ITS HIS FAULT FOR ALL OF HIS FRIENDS DEATHS. KASAI REALLY DOESNT KNOW WHAT TO DO SO SHE JUST LETS HIM CRY. AFTER HES CALMED DOWN SHE TRIES TO MAKE HIM FEEL BETTER (THE ONLY REASON SHE SUCCEEDS IS SHE HAD DISTRACTED HIM FROM HIS PROBLEMS BY TELLING HIM ABOUT HER JOURNEY.) WITH KASAI BACK THE WAR STARTS TO BE IN HIS FAVOR AGAIN AMD WHILE SHES FIGHTING HES MAKING SURE SHES FAR AWAY FROM HIM WHILE HES SHOOTING LIGHTNING.

After the war is done he swears to get better and better until his strength can rival a gods.

DO YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU KAIS OR ALVARS NEXT.

(And if they could feel romantic love I'd honestly ship kasai and aasim)

Since I'm not really using this account for anything I'll just post stuff about my character on here and if anyone comes across this they can ask like questions about her and I'll answer them

This is her, her name is Kasai (yes I'm aware it's technically a guy name but idc if fits her) She's a god of fire and war and queen of a giant kingdom. She's kinda stupid and illiterate but is a genius when it comes to manipulation and war tactics. She always tries to smile to keep the people around her at ease so when she's not smiling it's a very bad sign. She views mortal people sort of like glass and if she gets into a close friendship with a mortal she'll kill anyone trying to harm them in anyway. She uses a scythe but also likes collecting various weapons. She also is can't feel romantic love and thinks it's kind of weird that people get into relationships.

If anyone has any questions about her you can ask (I'd love some questions honestly I love talking about her)

#oc backstory #oc #original character

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pestriddencarnivore · 3 years ago

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Kai Things Rant I

This rant been long in the making ( or rather months of me procrastinating on writing it but I finally did. ).

It comes in 2 parts ( bc long ). In part 1 ( this post ) I wanna specifically talk about the origin of Kai’s problem with quirks and draw parallels between him and Eri ( bc we know Hori be lovin’ his parallels ). In part 2 I’ll talk about the various ways the Overhaul arc addresses Chisaki having a shitty childhood in general. So, let’s get started:

Part 1: Chisaki's aversion to quirks and parallels to Eri

In his fight against Deku in chapter 158 Chisaki talks about a theory in which quirks are described to be a disease stemming from mice and continues to go on a tangent about how he could use Eri’s power and return humanity to their “ normal “ state.

Combined with his Germaphobia, it is generally understood as his true motivation for his aversion towards quirks and making the drug but ultimately it does sound somewhat odd. Chisaki is in his late 20s and intelligent enough that he created a quirk destroying drug in his basement. He also admits that the theory hardly had evidence to support its claims, thus raising the possibility that it is nonsense. He doesn't seem like the type who'd fall for crazy narratives and baseless theories, yet he still chooses to believe it and seems to construct his entire world view around it ( e.g. referring to heroes as a symptom of the disease called quirks ). It doesn’t quite add up.

My proposal is that Kai chose to believe in that theory deliberately, not because he genuinely thought it was true but because it served his narrative. He probably already hated quirks before he heard about the theory and adapted it because it justified his point of view. It is also the perfect excuse to want to get rid of them; a disease needs to be cured.

To further support this thought I want to talk about panel on the first page that sticks out as the most striking of all of them: The one showing Kai as a kid. Judging by the room's looks ( the decorations on the wall, the toys behind him ) it is a place for rather young children. The shadows in the window also appear to be two children playing, judging by pose and proportions. We can assume Kai is also fairly young then.

From the context of the entire page it can be understood that he is reading about that quirk theory in that moment. However thinking about it, it is rather odd for a child of that age. He could be playing with the toys behind him, or with the other kids outside. Why does he choose to read this book instead? Does he even have a choice in this? Why was he so susceptible to such a message in the first place?

I think it is also worth noting that in the panel depicting Kai reading the book the way he's drawn looks quite villainous. Which in context of the whole page makes sense; this is the evil villain talking about how he came to the evil beliefs that shaped his evil master plan to rid the world of quirks. However, again considering that this is a young child being depicted that image falls apart. A child is not a villain and shouldn't be framed as such, however in this scene it was done so deliberately to show that by this point he was already too far in; while it may have been the moment Kai first read about the theory, he was already having issues with quirks by then.

Overall this entire panel leaves lots of questions about Kai as a child, some of which I want to speculate about in part two. For now let’s focus on one thing:

Why does Chisaki actually hate quirks?

To get to the bottom of this question, It want to first of all to talk about Chisaki's own quirk: Overhaul.

As he's demonstrated several times throughout his arc it is a quirk that can be highly destructive, with the ability to disassemble both matter and people. His ability is also set off quite easily as it requires just a single finger of his to make contact with the target and also takes effect immediately. Simply wearing gloves cannot stop it [see ch.152]. The device the heroes used to restrain Chisaki after capture shows just the lengths necessary to keep it contained: Encapsulating his hands entirely.

Ultimately this means the only thing stopping Overhaul from destroying or distorting anything Chisaki touches is his own control over the quirk. A level of control that, considering what we know about growing up with quirks, is not guaranteed to have existed when he was a child. Considering this, I think it is possible that, similarly to Eri, his quirk may have been cause for trauma in his childhood. ( Eg: killing those close to him by accident, destroying things that are important to him, etc ) As an adult he repeatedly makes examples of what it could look like, as he uses the first step of his quirk 'disassembly' to quickly kill and maim people on several occasions.

Kai - Eri Parallels:

It suits Hori's narrative style to have the villain reflect on someone else, whether it be a villain or a victim in their life. So let’s talk about that!

There are already several ways in which Kai and Eri's childhoods are a reflection of one another. They both are children who have lost/been abandoned by their parents at a young age. Eri due to her quirk being out of control, Kai for yet unspecified reasons. They both have quirks that are highly destructive when out of control but also capable of outstanding feats of healing when used right. Also both quirks take effect through touch. So the idea that they also reflect in the way that both their quirks caused them problems does not seem too far fetched.

One scene that strongly stands out in this context is the one where the boss asks for Chisaki to investigate Eri's quirk. He specifically points out that it reminds him of Chisaki's. A statement which Chisaki ultimately dismissed as nonsense as he studied it scientifically.

This is purely speculation but I think it is possible those words from the boss were much more emotionally charged than Chisaki acknowledged. In his statements he makes it clear that all he knows of Eri's quirk is that it had made her father disappear and that her mother abandoned her in fear of it, calling her cursed. And immediately he draws a parallel to Chisaki, pointing out how both their quirks destroy.

Perhaps him saying he was "feeling reminded of his quirk" he didn’t just mean how Eri's quirk is also deadly but also causing trouble to a young child. Reaching further, perhaps the story about her parents specifically reminded him of something that had happened to Kai when he was young. It is not a secret that the boss is the most important person in Chisaki's life. If he'd have told anyone of the hardships he's experienced in his childhood it would be him. I also wouldn't put it past Chisaki to dismiss such an emotionally charged statement or not even notice its intent in the first place.

It would give a whole new perspective as to why exactly the boss wanted Chisaki of all people to take care of her. Not only because of the practical similarities of their quirks but also because he hoped they could relate to each other on an emotional level.

Further talking about the specific attitude Chisaki has towards Eri's quirk; it is worth noting that he did not consider Eri's quirk a weapon from the start. His initial reaction upon discovering what it does was to call it terrifying. He also later expresses that fear again after Eri split up his fusion with Nemoto and upon warning Deku of touching her.

Chisaki's general aversion to touch/germs is also interesting in this context. It is very noticeable that there are two distinct events that trigger his phobias ( as shown by him developing hives ):

Gore splatter caused by use of his own quirk.

Making physical contact with other people.

While both absolutely relate to his presumed Germanphobia both fears also point to aspects of his quirk. Touch as the condition, sudden death and gore as the consequence.

All of this points to the narrative of Chisaki initially growing to hate quirks due to the struggle he experienced with his own. Coming to the conclusion that quirks are an unnatural type of sickness that plagues humanity is not all too far fetched from the perspective of such a child and so he adapted that world view. His other goal to revive the Yakuza, that had been ruined due to quirks ( the disease ) and heroes ( the disease's symptoms ), fit in quite nicely with this as well. There was no reason to question it.

#Kai Chisaki #Overhaul #back on my bullshit #I promise I am still alive lmao #I was today years old I realised that chapter is called ' Chisaki's warped compassion. '#and I quite like that title

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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago

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be a little bad /// Hawks x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: College AU 🍺 Frat boy Keigo pours you your first drink and decides he’s going to help himself to more of your firsts.

A/N: Hawks just makes so much sense as a frat bro 🤧 @koiibito thank you for working through ideas w/ me…& remember when I told you this was going to be short?? whoops 🤡

Tags/warnings: dubcon/coercion, inexperienced reader, fuckboy Hawks, overstimulation, alcohol, inebriated sex, problematic frat culture stuff, idk what to call it but peer pressure? to drink etc., all characters are adults

How long have you been sitting here?

You feel like there’s some kind of immense weight holding you down, making it impossible for you to stand up off this ugly couch that’s been crammed into the corner of the room to make space for the dance floor. You and this couch have become good friends over what you think has been the past hour—at first you occupied yourself by looking at the people playing beer pong, but after the fourth time you had to decline one of the players’ offers to join, you decided to stop making eye contact. So you sit on the couch, you stare at your phone, and you wish you were back at your dorm—or, better yet, back in your hometown with all your high school friends.

But you’re not. You’re here, multiple time zones away from anywhere you can call home, and all of your high school friends are asleep. And the one person—the one person you’ve managed to make friends with since orientation is the one who dragged you to this freaking frat party and then proceeded to abandon you. Apparently he didn’t feel the need to tell you that as a new pledge of this frat, he’s going to be on “door duty�� checking ratios and giving sardonic responsibility talks for the next two hours.

Which leaves you here, sitting on the couch and trying to avoid the more questionable stains that you can barely make out in the seizure-inducing strobe lights. There’s a can of beer icing down your palms and you adjust your grip so it doesn’t leave a damp spot of condensation in your lap. It was your friend who gave it to you before he disappeared (“you don’t even have to drink it,” he’d said, “just hold it and no one else will pressure you to get another drink”).

It smells foul. You’ve had sips of beer before, and you can never understand why people drink it voluntarily. But maybe…maybe now that you’re in college, maybe now that you’re an adult, you’ll enjoy the taste. You raise the can to your lips and chug down a heavy gulp.

Ugh. Still gross. You wince and wipe your mouth.

“Not a fan of natty, huh? Good taste.” A hand appears out of nowhere to pluck the can away from you and you jump, nearly smacking your forehead against the stranger’s chin. He pulls back. “Whoa! Careful there.”

“…That’s mine,” you say half-heartedly as the guy tilts up the beer—your beer, your decoy drink—and takes a long draught.

“You’re not missing out. This stuff is piss,” he says, grinning down at you.

He’s not the first guy to hit on you at this party (what is it about lost-looking girls that draws frat boys in like moths to a flame?), but he is the best-looking. Long, swept-back blond hair; equally long eyelashes; a hint of scruff on his chin—he’s pretty and masculine at the same time. You let him take the seat next to you and lure you into a conversation, and he’s nice, too—laughing with you about how bad the beer tastes and sympathizing with your criticisms of your first experience at a frat party. You fall over yourself apologizing when he lets slip that he’s a brother (“social chair, actually, so if the party sucks it’s on me”) but he tells you it’s okay, that no one likes going to parties alone, not at first.

His name is Keigo Takami. He’s a junior, a marketing major, and he joined the frat in his first semester. According to him, the fraternity is a great group of guys (“I mean, they’re a bunch of jackasses, sure, but they’re well-meaning jackasses for the most part”) and all the rumors about frat parties are overblown.

“Seriously, you’d be having fun if you were drinking,” Keigo tells you. “These parties aren’t intended for a sober audience.”

“Sure,” you scoff, but it’s not serious. You are having fun, talking to him.

He gasps, mock-offended. “Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it to you. Stay right here, okay—don’t move a muscle.”

When he gets up, the dense crowd on the makeshift dance floor parts to let him through to the stairs leading into the upper floors. It’s kind of amazing. Everyone else (yourself included) has to wade through, pushing and shoving past the teeming throng to get anywhere, but for Keigo it’s effortless.

He’s back in just a few minutes, holding—oh god, how typical—a red plastic cup filled with a kool-aid red liquid that smells sickly sweet. Is it actually kool-aid? You take a whiff and can’t detect the tell-tale bitter alcohol fumes. “Is this…?”

“Mm, that’s jungle juice. The frat’s secret recipe. It’s good, try it.”

You raise the cup but hesitate. Is this really a good idea? You’ve been warned about stuff like this so many times. You don’t have to do it just because everyone else is.

Keigo catches your hesitation and frowns. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing, I just…haven’t…”

“Hm? Don’t tell me this is your first drink? Aww, little freshman baby.” He’s mocking you, looking down on you, and you hate it. You’re not a baby. You can play with the boys.

You make eye contact with him before you tip back the cup and gulp down the juice, letting the full contents slosh down your throat. It’s syrupy-sweet and tastes like fruit punch and oranges so it goes down easy, a lot easier than you thought it would. A drop slides out of the corner of your mouth but you lick it up when it runs over your lip.

Keigo whistles. “Damn, down the hatch. That was…that was kinda hot.”

If you’re blushing, you hope he thinks it’s because of the drink.

He’s faster when he gets you the second cup. It doesn’t even taste like alcohol. Keigo won’t tell you what’s in it or how much (“secret recipe’s gotta stay a secret, y’know? It’s in the bylaws”). Halfway into the second cup you start to feel dizzy, which Keigo says means it’s working. He pulls you up off what you’ve semi-affectionately begun to think of as your couch and guides you onto the dance floor. The music is heavy and blaring loud, thudding through the speakers and making the walls shake, making you shake as it travels through the sticky floor up into your body. You sway haphazardly but Keigo’s got you by the arms, pulling you out of the way of the crowd, pulling you into him.

“Looking a little unsteady there, baby,” he says, and—and, you hear him, you do, but he’s talking to you from underwater (or, no, that’s just what it sounds like? or—) um. Beaming his voice into your brain or something?

Keigo laughs and you giggle and it feels good. “Better finish that or you’re gonna spill it,” he says, putting his warm hot hand over yours, guiding the cup back up to your face so you can finish off.

You’re in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by writhing bodies so it shouldn’t surprise you when someone’s elbow smacks into your back and jostles you so the jungle juice spills, spills out of your mouth dripping down your chin onto the dress. You process the interruption a second too late and the sticky red liquid is already staining your skin. …Feels good, you think first, because the drink is cool and refreshing and it’s so hot in here, steamy warm, everyone pressed up against everyone else like you’re pressed into Keigo, and then oh no—oh no your dress—but at least it’s a dark color, at least the stain won’t show—

“What did I tell you about spilling?” you sort of hear Keigo say, and then you sort of feel the weight of his hand wiping away the juice from your mouth, and then he sticks his face up close to yours and oh my god oh my god he’s kissing you.

There’s something indescribably weird about it, his tongue thrashing over yours like he’s trying to lick the juice out of your mouth while you try not to flinch back from the taste of the beer he was drinking earlier. But he’s so solid, so steady, the only still thing in a room full of movement—when your eyes move away from him into the twisting mass of bodies and flashing lights you feel dizzy, so you keep your gaze locked firmly on him. He wraps his arm around your back and you instantly feel better and lean into him, lean into the kiss.

You’re drooling by the time he stops kissing you. “So sweet,” Keigo says, wiping a pearl of saliva off his mouth. “Little sloppy, but I can work with that.”

You don’t get it. You don’t even know if you would get it if you were sober. What you do get is Keigo’s hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you through the crowd to the staircase. Once again the people move aside for him, like the Red Sea for Moses, you think with a little laugh and he looks back at you and raises an eyebrow questioningly.

You stop, halting at the base of the stairs and squinting up at the bright yellow light in the stairwell, so invasive and clinical after the strobing darkness of the bottom floor. There’s something hard pressing into your side when you try to lean on the wall. There’s a name for that thing, isn’t there? B…ban…bannister, right? You grip the bannister with one hand to hold yourself still and resist Keigo tugging you higher up the stairs.

“W-Where’re we going?” you ask. It’s weird—your voice doesn’t sound like drunk people in movies. It’s not slurred or unintelligible. To your own ears, it just sounds high, and fast, and…nervous.

“Going upstairs,” Keigo says patiently, still pulling gently at your arm. “Gonna get some air, ‘kay? I’ll show you something cool.”

“O-Okay…” Something cool? You want to see something cool, even if you’re practically tripping over the stairs trying to stumble up them.

One of the brothers is guarding the entrance to the upper floors (no doubt ensuring that wayward attendees don’t try to take the party upstairs into the personal bedrooms). He nods at Keigo when he passes, but when he catches sight of you—you with your hair mussed, lipstick smeared, flushed cheeks and wobbly steps—his eyes narrow. “She good?”

Even in your boozy haze, it doesn’t escape you that the question isn’t directed toward you. He’s asking Keigo.

“Her? She’s fine, she’s fine.” Keigo throws his arm over your shoulders like you’re old buddies. “I’m taking her to my room, it’s so fucking hot down there I can’t breathe.”

“Yeah…” the other guy says, gaze still focused on you, but he doesn’t move to the side to let you through.

“Oh, come on.” Keigo steps up onto the same stair as him so he can look him in the eye. “I said she’s fine, didn’t I? She’s having fun. Aren’t you? Tell him you’re having fun, (Y/N).”

His tone isn’t any less sociable than before, but—are you imagining it?—he’s not really asking, is he? “Um, I’m having—having fun?”

Oh. Oh no. Why did that sound like a question?

The brother waits a moment, and then shrugs and steps aside. “Whatever, bro.”

Keigo’s bedroom is on the third and highest floor of the sprawling mansion where the fraternity makes its home. Flags are pinned to the walls—one with the colors of your university and one with the fraternity crest—and on top of his desk there are trophies lined up in meticulous rows: track and field, swimming, cross country, fencing. The bedroom is a rare single, one of only a few in the crowded house, which Keigo explains is because he earned it as a member of leadership when he was elected social chair (“it was unanimous—well, almost, a couple of the douchebags voted for themselves but—“)

You’re trying to listen, you really are. But your head is spinning. Now that you’re out of the feverish swampy heat of the dance floor downstairs, you feel marginally more sober—and also more aware that you’re inebriated. Keigo’s voice is steady and soothing like the rest of him. The timbre, the intonations, the casual lilt and dip of his speaking make more sense to you than the words themselves.

“Here, have this. It’s rum. Tell me what it smells like…” Keigo puts something in your hand—a tiny little cup, a plastic shot glass—and you have to use all your concentration to hold it still enough to let him fill it with red-brown liquid out of an unlabeled bottle.

When you carefully lift it up to your face, you can smell the alcohol. It smells sweet, too—like vanilla, vanilla and something fruity and heavy. Bananas?

But mostly it smells like alcohol.

“It smells like banana bread, doesn’t it?” Keigo asks, pouring himself a shot too. “Try it.”

You take a tentative sip but even that meager amount is sickeningly bitter in your mouth. You hold it on your tongue for a second trying to taste the ‘banana bread’ and then swallow a few moments too late, hoping you don’t look as disgusted as you feel.

“Not like that,” Keigo laughs, tipping his own shot back and downing it in a single go. “Like this. Your turn.”

“…Keigo…” You’re not sure what you want to say. You don’t want the shot, it tastes bad and you’re already drunk. You’re a smart girl, a careful girl. You should know better. You do know better. But it feels like—it feels like, even though he’s not making you do anything, somehow it’s too late to say no.

“C’mon, (Y/N). It’s just a little shot.” He taps his empty glass against your almost-full one. “And look, if you don’t want to, I’ll just take you back downstairs…is that what you want?”

Back downstairs. Back to sitting by yourself and waiting for your friend and turning down offers. Is that what you want?

Keigo’s gaze dips down to the ground and he shifts a step forward. “Now…maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think you want that. ‘Cause when I saw you sitting on that couch, you didn’t look like you were having such a good time, hm? Am I right?”

“…um, I guess?”

“Yeah…you looked so sad and lost and lonely I couldn’t leave you alone. Admit it...” He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. “You were waiting for someone to catch your interest. You were wishing a guy like me would come rescue you. If I’m wrong, I’ll take you right back downstairs and leave you by yourself for the rest of the night, okay? But if I’m right…”

You can smell his hot breath on your face—vanilla and sugar and bananas and rum.

“…take the shot.”

It’s not so bad the second time. You’re quicker and you don’t bother holding it in your mouth. The liquor sears your throat clean and when you get over the unpleasantness, it really does taste kind of like banana bread.

“Ohhhh… Not so bad, is it?” Keigo takes the glass from you. “God, you—you complain, but you really take it down like a champ.”

“Alcohol tastes nasty,” you reply, wrinkling your nose. “Why’d people do this for fun?”

“It’s not about the taste, not at first,” Keigo laughs. Weird. It’s like he’s always laughing.

“Then what?” At your next exhale, you squeeze your eyes shut and reopen them. Ah. Ah. The room is moving again, spinning, contracting and dilating. There’s something relaxing about it, like you’re being rocked on gentle waves in the ocean. You feel floaty, comfortable, pleased.

“Well…it’s nice, isn’t it? Isn’t this nice? Helps you not think so much, not worry about the consequences.” Keigo’s arms are wrapping around you again, anchoring you in place. His torso is warm and hard against yours. “Lets you be bad.”

“Mmm…” You blink up at Keigo, admire his jawline and his lashes and his pretty gold eyes. He looks like a boy you would’ve had a crush on in high school, an older boy who never would’ve given you the time of day.

His hand is rubbing circles over your back, shifting the fabric of your dress along with his palm. “So what do you say?” he murmurs. “Wanna be a little bad?”

You do. You want to be bad and naughty and reckless. You want to make dumb, drunken decisions that you’ll laugh about with your friends in a few years. You want to do things you’ll regret, because you’d rather regret the things you had the guts to do than the ones you were too scared to try.

You inch your arms up past Keigo’s shoulders and tangle them in his fluffy hair, tugging gently at the different strands until you work up the nerve to pull his head to your level and kiss him. Even though you initiated it, he immediately takes the lead and the force of his mouth writhing against yours has your neck twisting back to accommodate. His tongue pushes against yours again but you don’t mind it this time. Your spine is arched and you’d probably be falling backward if his hand wasn’t bracing your lower back before sliding down to grab your ass.

“God—“ he breaks the kiss— “goddamn, look at you.” He’s gripping your dress, lifting it, pulling the fabric up over your hips and up to your waist at the same time as he showers kisses over your cheeks and your jawline and your neck.

You lift your chin (how strange that you’ve never done this before and still it feels so natural) to let him bite and suck scarlet marks onto the thin skin of your throat. “Keigo—“

“Baby,” he sighs, his breath stirring the hair falling over your neck. “You’re gonna be a killer, I can tell… You’re sweet now, but fuck, you’ve got no idea.” His hands are under the hem of your dress giving your ass another squeeze before he pulls the skirt up.

“Killer? What do you...” He’s backing you onto the bed, kicking off his shoes, and you do the same.

“Shh, that’s for me to know and you to find out. Arms up,” he tells you, and you slowly comply, letting him take the dress off your shivering body to leave you in your panties—no bra, not in this dress. Keigo holds the dress in his hands for a second before he drops it to the floor. “This—you know what, this is how I knew you were a virgin, this little dress, who the hell wears a dress to a frat party—“

“A virgin?” Hearing him say the word hits some kind of trigger in you and your eyes go wide. Without thinking, you fold your arms over your breasts and pull your legs up to your chest.

“Not a virgin virgin, it’s just what we call freshie girls who’ve never been to a party before—“ Keigo starts to clarify, but when he catches your reaction (your overreaction), his eyes narrow and he sits on the bed over you, knees straddling your legs. “Wait. Are you—you’re not actually a virgin, are you?”

You look to the side, cheeks hot, wanting to deny it but knowing there’s no way you’ve got the mental fortitude to really convince him.

“Fuuuck,” Keigo breathes, leaning over you and framing your face with his hands. “Baby. You just keep getting sweeter, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “’s embarrassing…”

“You should be glad I asked, or you’d be…like crying and bleeding and stuff, right? God, it’s been a while since I had a virgin.” He scratches his forehead and then his hand comes down to absently stroke the soft inside of your thigh.

It tickles. It tickles and you feel goosebumps rising to attention on your leg and a silly little laugh bubbles out of your throat. An involuntary shiver passes through you.

Keigo smirks and ducks down to kiss the skin of your inner thigh. It’s light—it’s nothing—but the rough stubble on his chin scratches over your skin and you giggle again. He nudges up higher on your body, so close you can feel the heat of his breath through your panties, and his hands grip around your waist to keep you in place.

Everything’s moving so quickly. You wonder in the back of your mind, the tiny part that still has a decent grasp on sobriety, if you’re ready for all of this. Then you wonder if anyone’s ever ready. How are you supposed to know? When it’s the right time, are you not supposed to be nervous? You are nervous, but the liquor is taking the edge off, making you more comfortable, maybe even keeping your mouth shut when the sober version of you would’ve stopped this a long time ago. You don’t know.

But what you do know—what you do know is that Keigo is easing your panties down off your legs and then nosing back in to kiss up your thighs and latch his mouth over your pussy.

“Mm—oh, fuck—“ What are you saying? You’re not a moaner, you don’t even say ‘fuck’. You’ve always been able to keep quiet when you’re by yourself. It’s like Keigo’s tongue flicking over your clit is pulling the voice out of you.

He wriggles the tip of his tongue over that sweet spot and the breath falls out of your lungs in what is undeniably a whimper. You feel so tense with the effort of keeping still, blood rushing to your pussy, and your thigh spasms where it’s nestled next to Keigo’s cheek. “You ever done this before?” he hums between licks.

“N-No…ah!”

“Ever cum?” His tongue returns, licking you up and down in lazy strokes, spreading your juices all over your dripping cunt.

“…hahhh, yesss…” Yes, you’ve had an orgasm before, in your own bed on your own fingers. When you do it to yourself it’s detached and methodical, a means to an end. You keep your mouth closed and you barely move and you get it over with. It’s not like this, wet and sloppy and out of your control, teasing, giving you almost exactly what you want but not quite.

You’re moaning. You��re moaning. You can still hear the throbbing music of the party downstairs, and you’re moaning your little heart out, whimpering, crying with little ah-ah-ah’s that anyone who can hear would recognize immediately.

When you do it yourself, it’s not like this. It’s never like this. Keigo moves from slow to quick unpredictably, always pulling you down right when you feel that pressure building in your core. It feels good enough that you’re annoyed—no, not annoyed, downright pissed when he sits back up on his heels and licks the wetness off his own lips.

“What’re you—I was, I was gonna—“ you start, trying to organize your thoughts. It had felt good. You’d wanted it, wanted more, and now your pussy feels all warm and wet and needy, pulsating with the lust he stirred up in you.

“Gonna cum?” Keigo leans down and kisses you, long and slow. “Sorry…but I’m selfish. When you cum, I wanna feel it.”

His arms flex in the yellow lamplight as he pulls the collar of his shirt over his head. You’re sprawled over the sheets on your back, not sure what you can say so you just watch. It helps that there’s plenty to look at—the hard planes of his abdomen forming the tell-tale dips of a six-pack, perfectly-formed lean muscle (all those sports trophies, you think to yourself), and the V of his hipbones disappearing under the hem of his pants…which he’s currently taking off as well. There’s something to be said for the benefits of spending more time at the gym than you do at the library.

Every part of Keigo Takami is impressive—he’s a work of art in human form. And when he pulls down his boxer briefs and his cock springs out to bob against his stomach, you’ve gotta admit that that is pretty impressive too.

Impressive…and intimidating. You bite your lip looking at it. Keigo pumps himself up and down, and every time his fist moves down to expose the thick pink head, you wonder the same thing: how is that supposed to fit!?

Keigo must see the sudden anxiety on your face, because he smiles (reassuringly? arrogantly? or is he just delighting in your discomfort?) and lifts you like a kitten with his hands under your armpits. “Up, up, on your knees, legs together—perfect. Now turn and put your hands on the wall.”

It’s so much easier to follow his instructions than try to consider what would happen if you said no. His callused hands petting over your waist make you feel like you’re doing the right thing. But—still—the nagging anxiety of having something so big in your pussy doesn’t go away.

You hear a drawer opening, and you turn away from the wall to see Keigo squeezing a clear liquid from a bottle in his hand and spreading it meticulously down the shaft of his cock. Lube? That’s good, you’ve heard from your more experienced female friends that it’s good to be extra wet the first time…but there’s something else, something you’re missing, isn’t there?

You try to think, try to ground yourself and understand, really understand what’s happening to you. What are you missing? The bed is squishy and soft under your knees, the air is windy somehow (is there a fan on? you hadn’t noticed), and the music downstairs is so loud you can feel the vibrations through the wall you’re pushed up against. And. And. You try to think. What are you forgetting that you’re not allowed to forget?

You can feel his cock, too. Keigo’s hands grip the flesh of your hips and he leans his chest into your back, brushing your hair over your shoulders so the two of you can touch skin to skin. The head of his cock bumps against your mound, raw and hard and heavy. Skin to skin.

Skin to skin.

It hits you in a wave of panic and you whip your head around and push desperately back at Keigo’s solid shoulder. “Wait! Wait, Keigo—the condom? Are you wearing a condom?”

His hand wraps around your wrist and pins it back against the wall, and he bows down to nip a a little spot on the crook of your neck. “Calm down, we don’t need one.”

“No, we—we need it, I need it!” you squeak out, trying to push away from Keigo but he’s got you sandwiched between him and the wall and those perfect muscles you were admiring earlier are definitely not just for show.

“I said calm down. I’m not gonna go inside.”

“…What?”

He rocks his hips forward and his dick bumps up under your pussy again. “Ever heard of thighfucking?”

No, you’ve never heard of thighfucking, but you’re an intelligent girl and you might be drunk but you’re not so drunk that you can’t piece together what he means. Your interpretation is reinforced when you feel Keigo slathering liquid—lubricant—over the lips of your pussy and between the tops of your thighs. It feels cold and weird—slippery slick, like lotion—but even the barest second of his fingers brushing over your clit reignites the need from when he ate you out and you shudder.

“Keep those knees together for me, baby,” Keigo says, and with no further delay he pushes his cock in between your thighs, aiming it perfectly to slide between your pussy lips so the head will bump up on your clit.

“…ahh, Keigo, wait—oh!” The full weight of Keigo’s body shoves against your back every time he thrusts. You’re too weak for this, too delicate to stay in position. Your elbows buckle under the pressure and your face is about to smack directly into the wall until Keigo laces his fingers in your loose hair and yanks you back from it.

He’s got no trouble holding you down, keeping you perfectly posed with your soft thighs molded tightly around the cock driving between them. Your head is craned back from his hold on your hair and he lays hungry kisses over your mouth, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. He’s right—he is selfish, and you know that this position is about him, not you, so it takes you by surprise that the longer he fucks his cock between your thighs and your dripping slit, the more heat you feel rising up in your cunt.

It’s not right. It’s not supposed to be like this. Your first time doing anything with a boy isn’t supposed to end up with him using you like he’s humping a pillow, thrusting his slippery cock into your thighs and groaning in your ear. It’s all wrong, and it’s definitely wrong that you’re getting off to it.

But now you know why he ate you out and left you high and dry (well, not dry) without making you cum—because the heat and the friction and the feeling of every ridged vein sliding over your clit, his hips smacking with a wet slap against yours, the smooth head grinding over your pussy—all of it is making your thoughts swirl like your brains are sloshing around in your head, and not just because of the alcohol.

“Fuck,” Keigo purrs, ducking forward to bite the shell of your ear and then running a soothing tongue over it. “Fuck, baby, you like that? Is that virgin pussy getting all wet on my dick? You’re twitching, I can feel you…”

“…Mmph, ah, I, I—please—” You can’t really talk, not when he’s knocking the breath out of you with every thrust. But you need more. It’s not fair, having to make do with the uncontrolled jerks of his cock over your upper thighs and the outside of your pussy. He’s fucking you like he couldn’t care less about whether you get to cum—which, if you had the ability to think about it, he probably doesn’t. Certainly not as much as he cares about your soft, lubed-up skin squeezing so deliciously on his cock.

You grind your hips down a little, sticking your ass back toward him to get a better angle and—ugh, ugh it works, the pressure on your clit increases, and you keen desperately, begging him to fuck your thighs faster harder deeper. He yanks on your hair, snapping your head back so your whimper chokes up into a squeal, and—god, are you imagining it?—but you swear you feel the stiff length of his cock throb in between your legs with the head nudging on your belly.

“Uhnn…baby, baby, baby,” Keigo chants in your ear. His voice is heavier and jagged with the puffs of breath that are coming out in time with the roll of his hips into yours. It sounds…needy, almost. “G-Good girl, keep those legs tight, just—just like that…my good little sweetheart, angel, virgin. Gonna make me cum? Yeah? Make me cum with these pretty fucking thighs?”

“—Keigo, I’m—mm!” You can’t say it, even the thought of announcing you’re cumming like some kind of pornstar makes you cringe, but even if you don’t say it, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the electric shock that passes through you, sending tremors through your body.

You’re crying out, loud, louder than the music downstairs maybe (or at least it feels like it). There’s nothing you can grip for purchase so one hand just scrabbles against the bare expanse of the wall while you curl the other into a fist and dig your fingernails into your palms.

Fuck, is it the alcohol? Is it the liquor that’s making it feel like this, so overwhelming and heady you don’t even know where you are? You vaguely try to remember how you got here (something about blond hair, an easy laugh, and sugar-sweet liquid coating your tongue), but it’s not important, who fucking cares when the cock pistoning between your thighs is still rubbing up on your clit, still stimulating you, still sending sparks of heat up through your spine and making it impossible for you to breathe without moaning, much less think.

“Keigo…Keigo I came, please ahh—it, it hurts,” you whimper, trying to shift your hips up off his cock to relieve the pressure on your sensitive clit—but he won’t let you.

Keigo’s grip on your ass digs in deeper, harder so he’s probably leaving bruises, and the hand in your hair pulls your head back toward his. His voice is a growl, so low and scratchy that it sends a chill up through your body. “Don’t move. Don’t you—don’t you fucking move. Stay right fucking there.”

It scares you.

It scares you, but his dick is rocking over your pussy, making you crazy, making you lose your grip on whatever other physical sensations you can still feel. You’re limp except for your thighs pressed into one another as tightly as you can manage, letting Keigo hold you up. It doesn’t hurt, not really—but it’s horrible, it’s too much, it’s like you’re trapped on the edge, cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming while you squeal like you’re being tortured, and you are, you are, you are, you are—

—it's torture.

But not pain. It doesn’t hurt. It’s mind-bending, oppressive, awful, you want it to stop but—oh god oh god—you’re helpless and you don’t get to make it stop, you don’t get to make that decision, it’s up to him. He decides, Keigo decides, and Keigo decides to keep fucking into your thighs, keep spreading your pussy lips apart and teasing your clit, so you just roll your head back and stop trying to convince yourself it doesn’t feel incredible.

You barely notice him speeding up—you probably wouldn’t notice at all if you couldn’t hear the beat of your moans, paced in time with his body slamming yours against the wall, increasing in frequency. He releases your hair (you swear you can feel blood rush back into your head when you’re finally able to lean forward) and his hands go back to your hips, guiding you to rock yourself back on him so his last few rabid thrusts finish with the head of his cock rubbing firmly against your stomach.

“Ugh, goddamnit fuck, baby, yesss, stay still, stay right there,” Keigo groans, and you’re so blissed out from the overstimulation that you barely even feel the twitching of his cock between your legs and the spurt of thick, hot liquid on your stomach.

Oh.

Oh god.

When Keigo finally picks his hands off their bruising grip on your ass, you drop directly onto the bed, barely remembering at the last second to roll over onto your back so his semen (his semen, which is spread over your lower belly like a Jackson Pollock painting) doesn’t stain his sheets.

You stare at the ceiling and what do you know, there is a ceiling fan, blades spinning in lazy circles that make you sick when you try to follow them. So you close your eyes.

What are you feeling? What are you supposed to be feeling?

Anger, probably. Fear? Well, you won’t deny that there are hints of both of those emotions swimming underneath the hazy surface of your drunken psyche, but they’re overshadowed by what you’re really feeling, which is relief, relief that the stimulation is over, relief that it felt good, relief. And—since you’re too out of it to stop yourself from admitting it—satisfaction.

There’s a rustling, paper slipping against paper, and then you can feel Keigo wiping his cum off your bare stomach with a tissue and then dabbing at the smears of wetness between your legs. When he’s satisfied that you’re clean, the bed creaks as he lays down next to you. He’s panting.

Reluctantly you open your eyes and roll onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow so you can look down at him: golden hair spread out in a halo around his head, pale lashes and brows, a healthy glow of sweat over his forehead. You hadn’t seen it before, but there’s a tattoo curling over his biceps from where it must originate on his back—red feathers, wings, inked permanently into his skin.

Angel, Keigo called you earlier. But really, between the two of you…he’s the angel. In appearance, if nothing else.

His eyes drift open and the corner of his mouth tilts up, pleased to see you inspecting him. “How was that? Did you have fun being naughty?”

You and him both know exactly how much fun you had, and if you said it you’d just be stroking his ego. “You’re not a good guy, are you,” you say instead.

“Never said I was.”

“Then why didn’t you…have sex with me? For real?” you ask after a beat. The question’s been weighing on you.

“Don’t tell me you’re complaining.” A hand comes up to comb through your mussed hair unhurriedly.

“I’m not…” You still want to know, though.

“Mmm…baby. You didn’t want this to be your first time. Believe me, you’re not supposed to lose your virginity to a guy like me. No—don’t pout, come on. Your first time is supposed to be, like, soft and special and romantic, right?”

The girl you were one month ago, before you moved away from your hometown to come to college, she would have agreed. But you’re not that girl. You’ve been to your first college frat party, you’ve had your first drink and your first shot, you’ve kissed a stranger and you’ve done…sexual things with a man for the first time. And you’re okay with it. So you roll your eyes. “I’m not some fourteen-year-old drawing hearts in my notebook. I don’t need soft,” you tell him, hoping you sound bold and sarcastic.

Keigo chuckles and pats you on the head. “Don’t knock soft fucking, it’s got a time and a place like everything. I just couldn’t do it. Not when I saw you sitting there looking so lonely—you were like, hmm…like a rabbit in a den of wolves. You looked delicious.”

Oh god, you’re blushing again. This isn’t good for the nonchalant cool girl persona you’re trying to cultivate for yourself.

He cups your chin and runs his thumb over your lower lip. “I don’t think I could’ve been soft with you if I tried.”

A sharp rap on the door has both of you tensing, and Keigo only has a second to yank a blanket up from the foot of the bed over your naked bodies before the door is slammed open so hard that it bangs against the adjacent wall. “Jesus, get the fuck out!” he barks to the intruder, and it’s weird to hear the authoritative note in his voice reminding you that within this house, he’s someone who commands respect.

You tuck your face into Keigo’s chest and hope wildly that the person who just walked in 1) didn’t see anything and 2) isn’t the friend who brought you to the party, because if word gets around that you’re the girl who ‘slept’ with an older frat boy at the first party of freshman year, you’ll never live it down. Regardless of your own sexual liberation or whatever, you’re well aware that this isn’t the kind of reputation you want to start your college career out with.

“Sorry Kei! But we need you downstairs, we’re out of alc and the music stopped and no one knows how to fix the speakers!” the brother says, shielding his eyes with his hand, but he doesn’t leave the room. At least it’s not your friend—you breathe a sigh of relief and Keigo automatically smooths a hand down the back of your head in response.

“I’m kind of busy,” he seethes, and—you’ve gotta admit, there’s something marginally funny about seeing him caught off guard like this. You bite down on a laugh and he looks at you curiously, one thick eyebrow quirked.

“I’m really sorry, man, but the President said you’ll be on puke clean-up duty tomorrow if you don’t get your ass down there. His words, not mine.”

“Tomura, of-fucking-course…shitty incel has it out for me…” Keigo curses under his breath. “Give me five minutes.”

As soon as the door is closed, you’ve got your feet on the floor, groping around the discarded articles of clothing for your dress. You smooth down your hair with your hands and hope you look like any other tipsy freshman instead of a girl who just got pseudo-fucked. Keigo winks at you and taps his cheeks under his eyes; you take the hint and wipe away the smudges of mascara and eyeliner that migrated out of place during your…activities.

Your phone is safely in the pocket of your dress and you’re all but ready to leave the room (hopefully there won’t be anyone in the hallway to see you) when Keigo, still pulling on his pants, tugs you back by your wrist.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply uncertainly.

“Aren’t you going to give me your number?”

What? Really? You’ve heard plenty about how frat guys like him operate, and nothing Keigo’s done (except the whole ‘no penetrative sex’ thing) has led you to believe he doesn’t fit the stereotype. And the stereotype doesn’t involve sleeping with the same girl twice, especially if that girl is an awkward freshman who is apparently too innocent for him to get his dick wet with. “What do you want my number for?” you ask.

“Do I have to spell it out to you?” Keigo’s fingers lace with yours and you stumble forward into him so he can kiss you.

It’s light, chaste even, but it’s not fair because he knows, of course he knows—a kiss like that is going to leave you wanting more. “Yes,” you tell him, just to be contrary.

Keigo laughs again, and you do your best to memorize the sound of it. “It’s so the next time you decide you want to be a bad girl…you know where to find me.”

#Hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #hawks #takami keigo #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagines #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagines #smut #BNHA college AU #tw dubcon

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sparkbeast20 · 3 years ago

Text

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt15 Final

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11 Pt12 Pt13 Pt14

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature.

Previously

“Okay, now here’s the Plan” Satan start discussing about how to trap Lucifer and make sure that he and Mammon stay in one place and not make the same mistake as before.

“Why do I have to carry the two of ya” Mammon as Levi and Belphie are in his arms. While you are with Beel upfront and Satan with Asmo is behind of two, as Beel following Lucifer’s scent.

“Because your more bigger then Beel right” Levi answer him, and Mammon just groans at him.

“I didn’t realize how soft your feathers are Mammon, this could be great for pillow stuffing” as Belphie said it, he nuzzles his face on to Mammon’s arm. Hiding the fact that he misses his big brother.

“OI! Don’t get any idea!!” Belphie sleepy laugh at Mammon’s bash reply, which Belphie scoffs.

Beel track down Lucifer’s scent in the mountain’s valley near the woods where Mammon’s treasure cavern is, soon you all hear a shrike from the distant, to both Mammon and Satan displease with the latter which clench his fist so tight he dug his nails into the palm of his hand.

“Satan, are you okay…...your trembling” Asmo asks as he feel Satan shaking.

“It’s fine Asmo…... it’s just my instinct kicking in, maybe because we’re in his territory I start acting like this. Shit I didn’t expect this strong of a demonic presence, this ruin the plan entirely”

“So, what now?”

“Our best bet is y/n’s pact with Lucifer, pinning him down long enough for at least on of us cast a chain spell on him, then Mammon can make sure he doesn’t escape”

After minutes of flying, both Asmo and Beel to feel weak and unease, and Mammon sees it.

“Oi, what’s going on with you two”

“I don’t know…... its like my body is getting heavy” Beel can barely say it, he felt like something is causing his body to feel numb.

“I think…... I can’t go on” Asmo started to slowly decent down, as Satan tries to talk to him.

“Asmo! You need to~”

Suddenly both Asmo and Beel felt a surge through their body, they felt that their wings are getting heavier.

“Shit! I can’t move wings” Beel is trying his damnedest to keep flying, eventually he can’t take it anymore and decided to make an emergency landing in one of the path ways between the mountains, and Asmo followed suit with Mammon not far behind.

“Beel! Are you okay!” Belphie immediately rushes to his twin’s side as Asmo can barely stand, while the rest looks around to see where you guys landed.

“Mammon…...” you called out to him, with a worried tone in your voice, as if you felt someone or something is watching you.

“Stay right there, I’ll come to you” Mammon start walking towards you, when he stops and his feathers immediately stand upright, and his wings is spread out in a defensive way.

You quickly turned around to see a black griffin-like demon with six pair wings, a tail with seven peacock feathers on the tip end, familiar horns and eyes with the sclera ink black with crimson red eyes staring directly at you.

“Lucifer…...” you mutter under you’re breathe as your eyes start to shifted, scared of what’s is going to happen.

Lucifer shrikes, launches himself towards you, but Mammon leaps over you, and colliding with Lucifer. The two of them fall on the ground and quickly got up and take a defensive stance as they growl at each other.

“Lucifer! Snap out it. Your better than this. You know us, you know me!” but the only thing that Lucifer did was shrike at Mammon and rushes at him. But then.

“Lucifer. STAY!?!” Immediately Lucifer was pinned on the ground, and try to struggle out of the invisible force on his body down.

Mammon turns around to see you with one hand reaching out and your pact mark with Lucifer glow on the right side of your chest, but Mammon can see that you’re struggling to hold down Lucifer.

The others finally got up, then Satan start casting the spell while the others circle around the two older brothers.

“Lucifer!!” Asmo calls out to him only met with anger shrike, then Levi and Beel start walking close to the two.

Feeling surrounded and threaten by his brothers. Lucifer, let out an eerie shrike causing the other brothers halted in place as they can feel their body twitching uncontrollably as they feel an uncontrollable force making their body weak causing them to fall on their knees all expect Mammon who fought the effect of Lucifer’s shrike, as he makes his way to him.

He sees it in Lucifer’s eyes. Fear, panic and confusion in his eyes just remained when he was like this, not even fully changed yet, and he was terrified. But you were there with him before and after transformation to keep him company and you might know it, but you were his guide back to his sanity when he was lost in his own instinct, now you’re helping him with Lucifer’s own beast.

This time he’ll be the guide for his brother, now he towards over the avatar of pride subdue state, with the attend to remain him of the promise he made with him long ago.

“Lucifer” Mammon calls out to his brother with sincere and honest in his voice “I’ll still stand by you, Lucifer” He stop shrike, and look at Mammon with confusion in his eyes. “Remember what I said to you long ago, I never regret following you and never will we need you Lucifer."

Mammon, will not let this happen, losing him like this. not even in a fight.

But he didn't know that Lucifer can hear him and remember that night.

The night he took Mammon's advice, and that draw him back to his senses, as Mammon continue on.

"And if I have to beat that to your thick head to make you realize that we need you and how much you need me. I know you’ll never say it~”

“I do need you Mammon….” He’s eyes widen to hear Lucifer talk to him, even his like this “I…...I’m sorry…. for lying and…... everything”

He got to him. He knew that Lucifer can hear him.

Mammon chuckles to Lucifer’s apology, to think his never going to hear this from him once this all over.

Meanwhile Levi was the first one to get back on his feet, and witness what he always wanted. The two talking with out turning into an argument. With Mammon comforting Lucifer in his own way.

“Oi, you can’t say things like that here, what if Satan or Belphie hear ya” he getting through to him. “Lucifer, listen. We’re gonna stay in the cave until you get a hold of this. It’s too dangerous to go back home yet. Don’t worry I’m stay and help ya through this” he smiles with eyes at Lucifer.

“Your …... enjoying this aren’t you” even with the demonic voice, Mammon can tell that Lucifer sound tired. Maybe once there in the cave, he can tease his brother.

“y/n its okay, he’s calming down”

“Are you sure” he nodded in respond, so you lower you hand and sigh in relief. Then let the first and second be alone while check on the others.

Once the force of the pact was gone, Lucifer got up with his head hang low. Disappoint at himself for using the book, he thought it was necessary with Mammon’s state. He was wrong, then he looks up to see Mammon who is trouble maker, stepping up took charge, when he was gone. He might be mentally exhausted but he can clearly see how Mammon has grown.

Lucifer walk up to Mammon and lean his head on Mammon's Shoulder, and let out a satisfy squawk. Then he pat Lucifer on the head, just glad that his calming down

“Good to have ya back, brother”

Once he reaches the nest in the cavern, Lucifer flop in the center nest and immediately fell in sleep, while Mammon watch from the mouth of the cavern.

After making sure that Lucifer is fully asleep, he heads towards you and the rest of his brothers to entre way of the cave.

“How is he?” you ask as you walk over to him.

“he’s asleep, he would be tired after all of that flying after changing” he answering you, before puling you into hug and holding you tightly. “Make sure our room is clean, by the time we get back kay’” you hum in respond as you bury your face into him, and start sobbing. “Hey! Its not like I’ll be gone forever. It’ll be a week, or even least with Lucifer prideful head, keeping him in control.”

You look up to him with tears gathering in the corner of your eye. “I know, is just I couldn’t help to feel responsible to cause all of this” tears start fall, but Mammon use the back of his hand to wipe it off.

“y/n even if we didn’t go to the casino that night, I would have done everything to make sure your save and sound, you’re my treasure after all” you blush and hide your face in his feathery chest and he laughs at your action “Hahaha. Now who’s flustered now!”

“Shaddup”

“Oh my, your even talk like him. You really need this time to be apart” Asmo chipper in as he and Beel are getting ready to fly back to house.

“Come on normie! We can’t waste more time here anymore. I’ve missed three days’ worth of events and login~”

“Oi! You’re not going anywhere; you’re staying here with me and Lucifer.” Mammon cuts off Levi and quickly grab him by the helm of his jacket and drag him back.

“This so unfair!?! Why do I’ve to stay?”

“Welp we’re off” Satan grab hold on to Asmo, he and Beel with you and Belphie arm on each of his arm took off leaving a pleading Levi yelling to take him with you.

Once you all are far way from the cave Asmo flew closer to Beel, Satan start talking to you.

“Enjoy the next couple of days with no Lucifer, because once he and those two come home, expect your name to be written on the ceiling”

“Satan!” Asmo butts in “Lucifer wouldn’t do that to our little human, he might be cruel but he’s not that heartless”

Satan looks up to Asmo with a grin on his face, telling him that to eat his own words.

“I can’t believe you would do that to our human Lucifer!?! How could you!”

“Asmo, I will not hesitant to strung you up to, for giving a headache this early in the morning”

“So, Lucifer how’s it feels being back to chaos and piles of paper works”

“You two, better enjoy your freedom now. Because once Diavolo approve the use of the book. You’ll be first two are going to change and I’ll make sure of that”

After returning from that cave with Mammon and Levi, two days ago. Lucifer had been catching up with a week worth’s of reports, bills, and paper works.

Now Asmo is at his side nagging and Satan just being Satan, as he makes his way to staircase where him strung you up by the waist after finding out that it was you who drag Mammon at that Casino in the first place.

As he got there, he saw Beel looking up to where you are being hanged.

“Beel what are you~” he Immediately cuts himself off when he looks up to see that you were gone and the rope is cut. Satan and Asmo try not to laugh at the whole thing.

“Ah? Lucifer” he glances over to Beel who is holding a white feather in his hand. “I find this~”

“MAAAMOOON!”

At the roof of the house was you at Mammon arms just being at each other’s presences as you two heard Lucifer screaming his name.

“Looks like that our que to fly out of here”

“Where do we go?” as you ask Mammon lifted you up in his arms, and quickly shifted into his tame form.

“Where do ya want to go?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, lean in to kiss him on the cheek, then set you head on his shoulder.

“Anywhere, as long your there” he chuckles “ya got it, treasure” and take off, flying to the dark sky. Happy and content.

Fin

Note: I didn’t expect for this story to take this long.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me reader x mammon #obey me monster love #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me blue lotus petals

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tetsurobunni · 4 years ago

Text

Kita Shinsuke : Matchmaker

☽ suna x reader ; 2.6k words

☞ characters mentioned : kita shinsuke, aran ojiro, atsumu miya, osamu miya

☽ fluff, he takes care of you when ur sick ! even tho he’s a menace, kita being an angel

☽ a slight mention of adult themes (its a teasing joke)

☽ notes : hiii i wrote this for a friend and i figured id add it here teehee :))

hey Jesus, i know we don’t talk much but...fuck you. i feel like literal dog shit

You groaned as you shoved yet another tissue in your nose. You were sick, and God forbid it wasn’t the worst cold you’d ever had.

This morning you had pulled on your uniform in a haze; honestly it's a miracle you even made it to school. Aran had stopped you in the hallway when you arrived, putting a hand on your shoulder and placing the back of his palm against your forehead.

He immediately got out his phone and texted someone-presumably Kita, since he was the one most qualified to handle this. The captain had dealt with him and Atsumu both when they were sick so he could surely help you and get you to go the hell home.

You had pushed weakly at Kita when he ushered you towards the entrance of the building, assuring that you were a-o-kay. You ended up making friends with a nearby trashcan and emptying your guts right after the claim. Kita had held your hair back and rubbed your shoulders reassuringly. Afterwards, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to someone. Who? You didn’t know.

Kita had made sure to get you home in one piece. He tucked you into bed, placed a cold rag onto your head, and you think you heard him say something about bringing you soup later. Sleep crept up on you quickly and you were out before he even stepped out the door.

Now you were unfortunately awake, cursing whatever God could hear. This was absolutely awful. A dull throb ran through your skull insistently, mucus clotted your nose and throat, making your breaths uneven and raspy. You wanted to quench the ache in your throat but even the idea of sitting up seemed to drain too much energy, so you laid there in pain.

You assumed it was mid-afternoon. Kita had drawn the curtains above the window closed, leaving the room dark. You were especially grateful for this, for you knew any light would make your eyes hurt.

Your phone lay unchecked on the table face-down. The fear of worsening your headache is what caused it to stay there. Whoever wanted to talk would have to wait. You switched out the tissue in your nose for a fresh one, groaning again.

You wanted to take a shower so bad. You hated getting sick because you felt disgusting and knew you looked it too. Embarrassment bloomed when the events from this morning played in your mind.

Aran’s gonna joke about that for weeks.

A soft knock from the door drew you away from your thoughts. That’s probably Kita. A hoarse “come in” fell from your chapped lips and you internally cringed at how awful you sounded, even if it was just your childhood friend.

“You look like shit.”

That was not Kita.

“Suna? what the fuck?”

“Shut Up. You’re going to hurt your throat worse.”

Is this what I get for saying fuck you? I apologize so much anything but this please

“You’ve gone through two boxes of tissues already? Kita wasn’t lying, damn.”

You turned your head away from Suna’s voice, attempting to cover your sick-stricken face. Out of all people. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Suna- the two of you actually got along (if you count bickering back and forth all the time getting along). The problem was you happened to have a humongous crush on him.

The wing spiker had gotten on your nerves at first- smirks hidden behind a hand, foot sticking out to trip you in the hallway, drawing on your notes- he was almost unbearable. But as the both of you got older, you started returning his remarks, nudging him lightly into lockers, laughing at the twins together and sharing footage of their stupid fights.

Your crush had crept up on you almost unknowingly until one day he slung an arm over your shoulder and shot you one of his signature smirks and you were gone. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Earth to y/n, hello y/n.”

“What.”

“Ah-ah, no speaking, remember?” You shot him a glare, receiving that smirk yet again. You cursed at the butterflies swarming your stomach.

Infuriating.

“You’re shivering.”

It was a simple comment. You realized after a beat that he was right and pulled the blanket farther up your body. He sat down the bag he held in his hand and made his way over to your bed. You squirmed in protest, trying to scooch away from his outstretched hand. Your actions caused Suna’s brows to furrow, a small line creasing on his forehead.

“I’m just going to check if you still have a fever,” he whispered, moving forward despite your futile attempts at moving away. You gave in, allowing him to gently place his hand on your forehead.

He wasn’t terribly close, he had been closer to you before this, but this felt different. More intimate.

“You’re burning up,” he said, leaning back with a sigh. “Sit tight, I’ll start a bath for you.”

You tried to keep your swarming thoughts at bay with no luck. Your crush, Suna Rintaro, is drawing a bath for you. A bath. He’s taking care of you.

Why is he being so nice? This has to be a set up, or Kita probably forced him. There’s no other way he would willingly be doing this...is there? You shut down the thought as quickly as it came. No sense in getting flustered over nothing. No need to fuel your growing crush.

You weren’t fit to complain anyways. The exact thing you wanted is being done right now, so you did as you were told, slightly sitting up to fetch yet another tissue. The pounding in your head still hadn’t ceased and a sudden cough racked your body. You wanted to cry- and you didn’t cry often. But you felt horrible.

“Hey, you okay?”

Apparently you hadn’t held up your facade well enough because a look of concern washed over Suna’s face the instant he stepped back into the room. You shook your head lightly in response to his question, feeling tears welling up behind your eyelids in spite of your attempts to keep them at bay.

The last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of Suna. It was practically a death wish. You could imagine the jokes and poking laughter he would send your way over the next few weeks, and it made you feel even worse.

“Hey, hey now, look at me.”

The words were whispered closer to you than you anticipated. Suna had sat down on the edge of your bed while you were caught up in your thoughts, that same line present between his brows. You fought the urge to touch it, facing away from him again and reaching up to wipe your eyes.

“I’m fine.” That instigated a scoff.

“No you’re not. Now c’mon, let’s get you into the bath. You’ll feel better.”

Right. A bath. Despite the fact that Suna’s presence was wearing you thin, a bath sounded great. The only problem was, you knew you were too weak to walk to your bathroom across the hall. It took so much energy to even sit up, much less actually get on your feet.

Suna must have sensed something was wrong because in mere seconds he was lifting the heavy blanket off of your body and moving closer. Your breath hitched when he moved one strong arm under your back and another under your knees, eyes concentrated.

“Put your arm around my neck,” Suna murmured. You failed to notice the blush that had lifted to his ears because your own was blossoming on your face, making your already warm cheeks heat up even more.

This is purgatory.

You did as he said, lightly wrapping your arm up his shoulder and around his neck. He picked you up in one smooth motion, shocking you. You knew he worked out because of volleyball, but jesus christ. Your head throbbed in protest to the movement, and you winced involuntarily.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

“S’fine.”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest from the proximity. You were so close you could see the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, light traces of black eyeliner around the corners. You saved that in the back of your mind to ask about later.

Suna carried you into the bathroom and placed you gently on the counter. You pushed away the noise of protest that you wanted to let out from the loss of contact. No need to embarrass yourself even more.

“I’ll get you some clothes and leave them outside, take as long as you want.”

You murmured a small thank you as you watched him move towards the door. You hated that you missed him already.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“Like I care.”

“Yea, okay princess.”

You glared at him as he closed the door behind him with a small chuckle. Princess. You fumed at the reaction you had to the pet name.

This is horrible. I’m horrible. I’ll just blame it on him. Him and that stupidly hot smirk.

The bath became increasingly inviting as you sat, eventually leading you to strip of your dirty clothes and step into the warm water. It felt amazing. After a few minutes you felt your eyes begin to droop, the steam luring you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t know how long you had slept but judging by the temperature of the water, at least 15 minutes, maybe longer. The water hadn’t cooled completely but had lost its comfortable warmth. Begrudgingly you stepped out of the water and dried off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself and padded towards the door, opening it to retrieve the clothes Suna said he left for you. Just like he said, a small stack of clothes laid on the floor. You grabbed them and faced back towards the sink, wincing at your reflection in the mirror.

You really did look awful. Embarrassment settled into your bones again as you unfolded the clothes to put them on. A small part of your brain pointed out that they were big, too big to be your clothes, but a fit of coughs cut off your train of thought.

A knock came from the door. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Ye-“ Another cough broke off your sentence.

“Knock twice if you’re dressed.”

A small smile crept up on your face at the thought of Suna being considerate. You knocked on the door twice signaling him that it was okay for him to come in. A moment later it opened. Suna was holding what seemed to be a cup of tea in his hands and you reached for it with a sigh.

“Lavender, right?” You halted in your movements.

“Yea...how did you-“

“I pay attention.”

Your face flushed. His gaze never faltered from your face. How did he say that so casually?

“You look good in my clothes.”

So that’s why they were big. You looked in the mirror again, eyes locking in on the large “Inarizaki Volleyball” plastered on the front of the black material.

“Should wear ‘em more often.”

“Shut- shut up.”

“Mhm, okay. Feelin’ better?” You nodded.

“A little. Still feel like shit.”

“Look it, too.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

A light chuckle escaped him and he moved closer towards you. Something felt different. You noticed his eyes linger on you longer, many lapses of silence filled the spaces where playful arguing usually was.

“Cap texted me and asked to bring you soup, he had to do some more shit before he came over.”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean, hm?”

You didn’t get it. Why of all people would Kita send Suna to tend to you? What about Aran? Osamu? Hell, even Atsumu would have been higher on the list than Suna. Maybe…

“That bastard.”

“Woah now, what did Cap do to you?”

Kita was one of the only people who knew about your crush. Of course he would pull some strings to get Suna to come over. That little-

“Hey now pretty thing, don’t frown too much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

It was then you noticed a light touch on your forehead, right in between your eyebrows. Suna was rubbing the space there, just like you had wanted to do to him.

You hoped Suna couldn’t tell how fast your heart was beating or just how much you knew you were blushing.

After a moment of silence Suna still hadn’t removed the touch on your face. He met your eyes, slowly moving to cup your cheek.

“Why are you here, Rin?” His thumb stroked your cheek with a feather-like graze and you swore you saw his eyes flit downwards to your lips. “To take care of you, of course.”

“You’re going to catch my cold.”

“You’ll just have to pay me back later, yeah?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the corners of his mouth edging upwards.

what the fuck did i do to deserve this?

You pushed his hand away and looked away from his gaze. You could manage standing from afar and pining, sure, but what you couldn’t deal with was Suna messing around with you like this. You ignored the ache in your chest, choosing to cover it up by reaching for another tissue.

“Y/n.” You ignored him.

“Y/n, look at me.” You braced your arms on the bathroom sink with a sigh.

“What, Suna.”

“Rin. It’s Rin, to you.” You scoffed.

“Why am I any different than anyone else?”

“Because…”

You turned to face him again, confusion and slight annoyance bubbling under your skin. “Because what?” Suna groaned and ran a hand over his face. “You’re so oblivious.”

Okay, now you were annoyed.

“Oblivious? How am I oblivious?”

“Because you haven’t realized how different you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you fucking messing with me Suna? Look, I’m in no mood for your stupid games-“

“Would you shut up for one second and think.”

You leaned back against the sink with a cough, wincing as another throb of pain shot through your head. Any traces of anger or annoyance vanished from Suna’s face in an instant. He left the bathroom and you heard him rustling through the bag he left in your room. He returned with a bottle of pills and an ice pack.

“Here. Take these.” You took the small pills from his outstretched hand and washed them down with the now lukewarm tea. “Have you thought about it?” You rolled your eyes dramatically, placing your hand under your chin to mock a thinking position. “No, I don’t think I have.” He rolled his eyes in return. “Fine. Would I be doing this for anyone else? Hm?”

It’s a good point. One you didn’t bother thinking about. Sure, maybe he would do it for his teammates, but that was a hard maybe. He just wasn’t the caretaker type, much less with someone he wasn’t close with. You realized the implication behind his words in an instant.

“You...you like me?”

“‘Bout time you figured that out, sweetheart.”

All of the moments between you two passed through your mind in a frenzy, and you started to laugh. It was hysterical, really. All this time you just knew Suna could never like you back.

i take it back. thank you. sorry for saying fuck you

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He scoffed, “And risk losing my appearance? Hell no,” he said, sending you that damn smirk again.

“You are a menace, Rintaro.”

“Yea, but I’m your menace. You’re stuck with me.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“Oh shush, ya love me.”

“Yea, yea. Now, get me back in my bed. I need to sleep.”

“Inviting me to bed already? Wow y/n.”

“I hate you.” He reached over and pecked your cheek.

“Hate you, too.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#fanfic #suna rintarō #suna x reader #suna rinatro #suna x you #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader

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jjkpls · 4 years ago

Text

the wishlist (m) - 4

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

> genre : smut, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> total words : 4.7k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity ; awkwardness

previous - next

The issue is that Jungkook -and you're not a bitch for thinking that- is a little bit of an idiot.

He can be very smart. He can be wise and present unsuspecting resources and knowledge. He can teach you things you don't know anything about, figure out others you struggle to -but not during stressful times like for say an escape game because during those, he turns absolutely, utterly useless.

But he is an idiot too. An idiot that sometimes shapes situations and conclusions and ideas in a very peculiar way that is very singular to him.

That’s precisely what happens then. He plays his role right, to its full extent, with great dedication and commitment. Except he missed a memo, misread the script and ends up playing a role that's not the one you planned for him. He believes that he’s your new adult toy provider (as if there is such a thing).

When you think he’s coming over to share a meal or play some game or binge-watch a series you promised to wait for him to experience together, he has a box hidden in his pocket or carried under his arm.

He has the decency to not comment on it the first time around. He just set it down on the coffee table, between the bowl of chips and the one filled with guacamole. You see the logo on top of it. You recognize the design, reffined, minimalist with the pretty pastel matte colour.

He probably identifies the shame and the annoyance on your face, painting your cheeks and reshaping your eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything. Simply smiles to himself and starts talking about the series’ new episode that’s about to start.

It takes a lot of efforts, coming from you, to ignore the conspicuous object sitting just in front and in between you. But eventually, probably because more than a decade of friendship with this guy have grown impressive mind muscles on you, you manage to make abstraction of it.

It just stops existing for a while until he leaves and you’re curious to see what’s inside. And again you have the same old intentions as before. The same ones.

You won’t use it.

It’s curiosity. And it's fine for you to be curious because he’s the one buying it and gifting it to you. Why should you be blamed?

Freshly hopped in bed, just done reading the notice hanging over your face, you’re yawning and sending your eyebrows high in interest. Again you won’t use it but it sounds very interesting. That’s when you get a text from him.

Guk

So about the toy!

As if you were waiting for his explanation. As if the conversation got cut short and you were expecting him to pick it back up whenever possible.

You won’t entertain him.

You

I said not to buy me this.

Guk

You never said that! You said something about me being crazy but never about buying one again

Because you're mostly made of petty bitch material, you scroll higher quickly, wishing to find something, any text that would corroborate what you’re saying.

You don’t find anything though. Because you never actually told him to not buy you other toys by text, and now that you come to think of it, you probably never did out loud either because you didn’t fucking know that he would even consider doing so.

It’s not even Christmas anymore. It’s not your birthday. There’s even less of a valid reason for him to get you this therefore, of course, you did not explicitly warn him not to, you didn’t think it would be necessary.

You

It’s not even my fucking bday why???

Guk

I told you the lady at the shop

But who the hell is that lady?

Guk

She talked about a lot of products and they all seemed cool and because you liked the other one I thought I’d get you this one too

You

Jungkook

This simple response says a lot, you hope he can read between the pixels of his screen the desperation, the irritation, the frustration, the silent insults.

Guk

Listen it’s super cool it's supposed to mimic the touch of a finger

Jungkook then proceeds to explain to you how it works. The original idea being a system with a tiny ball rolling under a silicon skin, to place on your clitoris to have the illusion of a finger's touch. And it’s interesting and innovative surely and sounds intriguing as in, you wonder if it’s accurate, but you’re tired and it seems like you’re wading in some sort of swamp you can’t escape from. There’s a fire burning your skin from your cheeks to your chest. You’re both hating this conversation and unwilling to just draw a final period to it. This asshole.

You

I can read

Guk

So you opened it already??

There’s a bunch of excited emojis that follows his last message and fill up the empty space your lack of response leaves.

Why and how can he be so eager?

Here comes the delusional part of your brain. It’s a very wide, very deep hallway covered in bookshelves filled to the brim with stupid interpretations and beliefs and sometimes even memories you’ve shared with him. Often next to the laters are pinned an article from a teenage magazine or the jacket of a romance movie, specifically there to validate that yes, indeed, it must have meant something.

The door of that corridor just creaked opened. You can discern the sound, you can feel the particular atmosphere without even having to take a step through.

Is it really that normal to be so excited about that? For him? As a friend?

It’s the most frustrating part: you are friends. Friends who supposedly can tell each other everything. Friends who can ask each other anything.

You should be able to talk about it. Just ask him. If there’s anything behind this whole mess, if he means to tell you something, if it’s wholly mindless, if there’s no hidden agenda.

It should be fine. There’s only trust and affection in this friendship.

You are still too scared, you are terrified that he’d start linking dots, ask himself some new questions, potentially answer them himself, and have you all found out.

You'd have your barely well-worn cover thrown completely away.

You send the blank emoji. The one with even the eyes closed. It summarizes your actual state pretty well, speechless, relatively annoyed.

Guk

She said you could try it on other parts of your body too

Guk

At first

Guk

Like on your lips or your nipples

You want to die.

Now.

No, better, you wish to have never been born.

Why is he talking about your nipples? Why?

And through all that, you still feel like something is wrong with you, along with your feelings.

Turns out you are so overwhelmed by his clueless inadequacy, you need a good half an hour and a random shot of tequila to get through it. When it’s gone and exhaustion of a long day and alcohol have knocked nervousness and panic out, you fall asleep, forgetting about answering his outrageous last texts.

“What does it mean if a guy talks about your nipples?”

Min's finger stops midair, above the cash register she's been working on. She needs a good minute to get back to her senses and while you wait, anxiety invades you. Maybe you should never have brought it up.

But this question, the torturous thing is slowly killing you.

Min finally turns her head to you, eyes squinted and eyebrows drawn low. She sucks in her pretty red lips before opening them to start formulating, with it seems a certain struggle, an answer.

“I don’t think I quite understand.”

It’s a pretty straightforward, relatively easy question. That’s what you'd want to say but you’ve reached the state of bashful regret and decide not to press it. Some things are better just left alone.

“Who talked about your nipples?” She ends up asking the one thing you wished she wouldn’t because there is no way you’re giving his name.

“Doesn’t matter.” You mumble, turning around slightly, getting back to the task you were here, paid, to do -wipe the shelves clean and not talk about your “““love””” life.

“I think it does. You wanna know if it means something? Like the guy's into you?”

“Something like that.” Your cheeks are aflame now. No doubt about it. You silently curse at your manager who refuses that you don’t wear the ugly hat that holds your hair back because having a curtain of hair to hold behind, as a help to keep some of your remained, sparse dignity would have been peachy.

“What did he say exactly?”

Silence. You’re not elaborating. She sighs, defeated.

“Well, I suppose... he’s considered the fact that you have boobs. If it’s a straight guy, that’s a good sign, I guess?” She shrugs.

You don’t like the answer. It’s exactly what the wrong, defective part of your brain, the one directly wired to your heart, wanted to hear.

She doesn’t even have the context, anyway. It doesn’t mean much, doesn’t hold much power in your court of sensibility.

She stares at the side of your face, clearly attempting to drill holes in your head to try and find some answers. You’re awfully silent, have said too much yet not enough and she’s dying to know the whole story. You won’t give in and she can tell. There’s no way you’re sharing the whole thing. The most, probably, probative point of the whole story: the sex toys. It’d turn her into a devastating tsunami of nonsense and misinterpretation and drown you in its wake and you can’t, when you’re already struggling to stay afloat, allow that.

Tag list: @fangirls94 @realswimshaddy @safi4x @pnkd @somewhereinthestarss @kpopfandomftw @kai-kai-bookshelf @pasteljoonie @ggukkieland

A/N: Don’t forget to click on the next button on top, two parts are being posted simultaneously :)

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

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jisungsplatforms · 4 years ago

Text

[Chapter I: Let’s Party!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: strong language, use of alcoholic beverages, drunken antics, ?? jackson wang is throwing a party?? (jk he’s not aljsks. changbin is tho), nothing filthy in this chapter, unfortunately :/ just plot build up

Chapter word count: 2.6k words

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka (want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

Haven University; school of the elite. From the academically inclined to the artistically blessed, only those who were gifted with such talents are accepted to augment their potential. The perfect school for the sensational.

...And like every other school with young hormonal adults, also the perfect school for a good fuck.

“Another outstanding submission, Y/n! Keep up the great work!”

You smiled at your photography teacher, Mr. Kim, bowing humbly as you thanked him. You were proud. Praise after praise for your picture taking skills only heightened your motivation to be the best even more. Photography has always been your passion. Ever since you were given your very first camera at the age of 5 years old- which, in retrospect, was actually a toy camera, you already knew that it is something you would want to pursue.

In the middle of your teacher’s praises with another student, the bell rang. “Looks like we ran out of time, folks. Great job again, Seungmin. Everyone, class dismissed,” he said, jokingly using shooing gestures. “Now hurry up and get out of my face, you delinquents. Lunch time awaits. Go replenish your life force.”

You began gathering your belongings, slinging your precious DSLR camera around your neck. “Outstanding submission, young photographer.” You heard someone say. You turned around to see Seungmin grinning at you.

You snort out a laugh. “Thanks. Great job to you too, Seungmo.” Seungmin was about to respond when your instructor’s voice interrupted.

“Oh. Except Y/n. Please stay a little bit after class, for me, dear.” You and Seungmin shared a glance, nodding for him to go ahead without you. He pats your shoulder, bidding you goodbye. You continued packing your things into your bag. As the rest of the students left the room, you walked towards Mr. Kim’s desk, waiting for his word. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Hello, sir. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Ah yes. I wanted to ask you this,” your instructor paused, sitting on his desk. “How much do you love photography?”

You paused, wanting to convey the exact feelings you wanted to express. “Photography is an escape for me,” you answered. “It’s another form of art that helps people convey the emotions and stories people want to tell. Some people express their emotions through music and lyrics, others through paintings, and others through dance. For me, personally, I’m not all that good in any of those aspects, sir. That is why I work so hard when it comes to this class, and in photography in general.” You unconsciously caressed the camera slung around your neck. “And to me, the stories behind a photo is a lot more intimate in a way that I just can’t explain.”

“Because...this is the only way for you to express yourself? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” You nodded. Mr. Kim hummed in thought. “I see.” He stood up and walked to you, placing his warm hands on your shoulder. “I admire you, kid.”

“You...admire me?” You were confused. The teacher admires his student? Isn’t it usually the other way around?

“Oh yeah. Is that hard to believe?”

“Uhm...Kinda, yeah.”

Mr. Kim laughed mirthfully, amused by your bewilderment and doubt. “Well, believe it. You have spunk. Soul. Your work impart emotions I have never seen from my other students before. You’re passionate about what you do, and I like that. You take digital arts very seriously.”

You laughed awkwardly, the amount of praise your instructor was giving you made you happy. “I do, sir. Kinda a shame not a lot of people even consider it an art.”

“Indeed,” he replied, sitting down on his desk. “Which is why I wanted to give you an impromptu assignment. I want to assign you a story telling type of assignment; to write a story using your photography skills, if that makes sense.”

“Hm, yes? I think I get a jist of what you're trying to tell me.”

“Excellent. I just want to use this to monitor your skills, Y/n. You’re a very talented person, the most talented I’ve ever had even. I just want to see how much of that potential you really have so I can help you blossom it into something greater.”

“Oh,” you draw out, somewhat understanding why he picked you. “I see, sir. I’m honored that you’ve picked me.”

“You should,” he joked. “Now, I want you to photograph the following- write or type this down before you forget.” You hastily whipped out your phone from your pocket. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. I want you to capture the perfect scenes. Give me something that gives you joy. Something that makes you emotional, good or bad or even both, if you can. Something you fear, and finally, something that you love unconditionally. These are all supposed to be different photos, by the way. Got that?”

You finished typing a few seconds later. “And...got it.”

“Awesome!” he smiled. “Just know that I’ll be giving you only 3 months to complete the assignment. I hope that this isn’t too much to ask of you, but I’m sure someone as ambitious as you doesn’t mind, right?”

“Nope, sir! Everything will be a-okay!”

“I’m glad! Now move along and get to the canteen already. I’m sure you’re just as hungry as I am.”

You giggled, making your way to the door. “Thank you sir! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Oh, finally! There you are! We were starving waiting for you!” You rolled your eyes at Minho, who immediately decided to pick on you the second you entered his field of sight.

“Shut up, you could’ve eaten without me you know?”

“Nah, cause what kind of friends would we be if you ate without you?”

“You just want to steal some of my food, don’t you?”

Minho scoffed and went quiet, prompting Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin to laugh. “Caught you red-handed, Hyung,” Hyunjin teased, which backfired immediately causing him to chant an apology after Minho gave him a look.

“So why did you take so long, Y/n?” Jeongin asked.

“Oh, Mr. Kim wanted to give me an extra assignment.”

“Extra assignment?” Seungmin questioned. “What for?”

You shrugged, sitting down. “Uh, to test me? I’m not sure but I honestly think that there’s something more behind it. Not in like a bad way, just to clarify. I mean, he did acknowledge that I’m the best in his class after all.”

Seungmin snorted. “I just know you meant that unironically.” You jokingly blew a raspberry at him.

“Of course Y/n is the best!” Hyunjin stuck his chin up. “Let’s be honest, anyone could be the best if they use me as their model!”

“Hey, Hyunjin? You wanna eat this straw?” Minho threatened, making Hyunjin shut up.

“No...?”

“Good. Get off your high horse, prince charming.”

The three of you laughed. “Poor Hyunjin,” Jeongin sympathized sardonically.

“Hyunjin please stick to dancing and uh- not dying,” you said. “I still need you alive for some more upcoming projects.”

“For me too,” said Seungmin. “I might start using you as my model as well.”

Hyunjin fake cried, “Y’all just like me for my looks!”

“I mean, there’s no denying you are incredibly handsome but we like your personality too, Hyunie, don’t worry,” you cheered him up, then turned to Jeongin. “What about you, Yeni? How’re you holding up now that Lix is gone?”

Jeongin gasped. “I miss him! I’m so lonely now, especially when I have theatre! I feel so awkward now that girls swarm up to me instead- and you know I’m a shy boy!”

“Hey! At least you’re more popular now!” Minho laughed.

“Well, now we have no choice but to remember Felix in our hearts,” Seungmin replied.

“I’m not fucking dead. I just switched majors!” the four of you turned to see Felix pouting at you all.

“Well, you’re dead to me!” Jeongin wailed. “Going from a theatre major to a dance major. How could you?!”

Felix chuckled, sitting down between Seungmin and Jeongin. “I’m sorry! You know I’ll still see you though, buddy!”

“Why don’t you just switch to a regular vocal major next semester, Yeni?” you asked.

“Nah. I originally did want to go for just regular vocal studies but, you know, even if I did accidently sign up for the class, I ended up finding something else I wanna do. Plus, theatre is surprisingly fun! You know, find something new that’ll change your life every day.”

“Yup! Especially since they often collab with the dance majors so we get to see each other a lot!” Hyunjin beamed while Minho nodded in acknowledgment.

“Oh, speaking of dancing,” Minho chimed in. “You guys wanna go to a party I was invited to?”

“No,” Seungmin immediately responded.

“No, not you, I knew you would say no. I meant the others.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I was invited to the same party you’re talking about, so yeah.”

“Can’t,” Felix replied. “I’m still getting used to my new major and I still have a few assignments to catch up on.”

Jeongin hummed in agreement. “Same here. We have a play coming up soon and I’m a lead this time, so I gotta stay home to rehearse as much as I can.”

Minho made a stank face, “Aww. Lame.” He turned to you. “What about you, Y/n? You down?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Really?” All 5 boys looked at you incredulously.

“Yeah. I might find some inspiration while I’m there. Besides you know I’ll just be leeching off of Hyunie and Min the whole time.”

Minho and Hyunjin high-fived, cheering a quiet ‘yes!’ Hyunjin giggled. “This is great cause we might need a designated back up driver in case I get drunk and Minho-hyung abandons me!”

“Now that you’ve said that, I might seriously consider that,” Minho grinned. “We’ll pick you up at 8 sharp! Y/n!”

‘8:53pm’ You wanted to go home already.

The boys, true to their word, picked you up at 8:00pm. With little to no traffic- and the fact that Hyunjin actually got ready early so that they wouldn’t be an hour late- the three of you made it to the party around 8:20pm. Even then there were already a lot of people there.

“What the fuck. This house is huge!” you gawked. “Can you even consider this a house still?!”

Hyunjin shrugged. “I’d say this more of a mansion at this point.” All you do mutter a constant chant of ‘what the fuck. what the fuck’ over and over again. “Who’s house is this again, Minho?”

“Changbin’s, remember? Jisung said they’re celebrating in his house,” Minho replied.

“Well this Changbin dude is LOADED,” you mused. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the elegance of the house, which most likely costs more than your entire tuition. “I’d hate to be the one who has to clean up the place.” The boys lead you to the kitchen, helping you avoid the crowd cause, in your words, ‘ew yucky people’. There, they brought you to two men wearing all black, who were hanging out on the island counter. Their names were Changbin- the handsome rich boy who owns the house, the lucky bastard- and Chan- another handsome rich boy with the cutest laugh and dimples, both really sweet and hilarious men, whom you very much enjoyed talking to...

That was the last memory you had before it went downhill.

It took 33 minutes and 4 soju bottles later for Hyunjin to get drunk. Chan and Changbin were back at the booth, manning the song list for the night while Minho was somewhere with some guy in a red beanie doing absolutely nothing, so here you were: stuck babysitting your best friend. “Y/n! Y/n!”

You sighed hearing Hyunjin drunkenly call you. Again. “Yes, Hyunie?”

“I looove you~!” he sang while giving you finger hearts, rocking on the balls of his feet. You sighed again, rubbing your temple.

“Yeah yeah. I know. Love you too.”

“Y/n!” Your left eye twitched. You whipped out your phone from your bra to text Minho.

Me: You bitch.

Help me

Minho ho ho 😼: Hi

You glowered. You quickly glanced up to check Hyunjin, who was now sitting on the carpeted floor in front of you, counting his luscious black hair.

Me: He’s-he’s counting his hair… Please get him. It’s like watching a bird repeatedly hitting glass

Minho ho ho 😼: At least he’s not making any trouble now, is he?

He fucking jinxed it. Hyunjin stood up with a shocked look on his face. “What’s wrong, Hyunjin?”

“It’s my favorite song!” he cheered, starting to dance along. You have to admit, even when he’s drunk, he’s still an exceptional dancer. Texting Minho a quick ‘fuck you’. You put your phone back between your breasts to go back to monitoring him, preparing yourself in case you needed to tackle Hyunjin down.

“Heyyy, Y/n!” Minho suddenly draped his arm around your shoulder. Taking your eyes off of Hyunjin, you glared at your lazy, backstabbing friend, shoving his arm off of you.

“Asshole, you’re ten minutes late.”

“Oh I'm not here for Hyunjin. I need your phone.” You look at him audaciously.

“What the- why?”

“My-uh-phone died?” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes briefly flickered towards Minho’s friend, who, in return, looked down bashfully, red faced. Hm. Weird. You rolled your eyes, nonchalantly reaching into your shirt to get your phone. Minho didn’t even hide his grimace. He cringed, “It’s warm...and wet?”

“Shut up. I’m sweating, okay? And I don’t have any pockets on me.”

Minho nodded, going back to his little friend. Before you could scold him, you heard Hyunjin screaming. You turned around to find him running to the front door. Oh shit. You started pushing people to run after him

You groaned in disgust, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of here. You pushed your way out of the crowd, cringing at the feeling of touching numerous dirty, unknown people. Where in the world is the fucking exit? In the midst of the sweaty, drunken bodies, your eyes met. It was like time had stopped; no one within the vicinity seemed to not have mattered anymore. With just a smirk and a flirty wink from the chubby-cheeked boy in the red beanie, you knew…

...you just had to fuck him

Hold on, Y/n. Your friend might get fucking ran over! You snapped out of it. With a flustered face, you continued shoving your way through, wrangling Minho on the way. “Come on, fucker. You’re helping me. Let’s go,” you sneered while Minho complained.

After 30 minutes of chasing and wrestling, the drunken beast was tamed. The night ended with Minho driving you all home instead while you and Hyunjin cuddled in the backseat against your will. Minho took great pleasure in knowing that he wasn’t Hyunjin’s cuddle buddy, laughing every time you tried unlatching yourself from him, which made the long haired boy cry. Your sadistic friend dropped you home first, apologizing for not being much of a help tonight. “To make it up to you, I have something for you,” he suspiciously said, wiggling his eyebrows, before giving your phone back and driving off.

You relaxed on your bed, happy that you were rid of those dirty, smelly clothes. You grabbed your phone to text Minho. Assuming that the messages app was left on your conversation with him, you started texting, not paying any mind to the fact that the chat was blank.

Me: Thanks for taking me I guess. I didn’t get anything other than unwanted kisses from Hyunjin ew but it’s aight.

Speaking of aight…Do you think you can give me your friend’s number? 👁👁 The one with the red beanie.

Cause sir, not to be nsfw or anything but he is one fine ass man that I’d like to fuck

Almost immediately, the three bubbles appeared. You were surprised that Minho would reply that fast, thinking we was still on the road with Hyunjin. The reply you got, however, made your heart drop.

Min’s hoe: uh...hi? 👋🏻

this is minho’s “fine ass friend with the red beanie” 👁👁

Shitshitshitshit SHIT

[NEXT CHAPTER]

A/n: Sorry no smut in this chapter just plot build up :(( (which i’m a sucker for) and a lot of dialogue. But Trust me. Everything written in this chapter will fall into place with the future chapters. And who know, next chapter might be 🥵

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids series #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung series #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #Late Night Indulges

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ginanosakka · 4 years ago

Text

The Mind of a Monster

Masterlist

I’m Sorry | Next

“Daddy, why does everyone look like that?” Your young and bright eyes stared up at your father’s, his own having no light or warmth in them, not even as he looked at you.

The smile that crept onto his face scared you, but you smiled back nonetheless like the naive little girl you were, just wanting to return your father’s love. In truth, you had been scared the moment you entered his company office, the automatic shift in energy when he walked in the room from all his employees had you fiddling with your fingers and doing your best to avoid eye contact. It was confusing to you why he wanted you to come with him today to introduce you to his work, but he never greeted anyone or even acknowledged their existence.

You wished you had paid closer attention and broken from his leash sooner.

“My dear, you’ll learn soon enough that these are inferior beings, and how they feel mean nothing when it comes to success.”

Sitting in a conference room filled with heroes was one thing, but sitting in a conference room full of heroes being debriefed on your secret criminal business father was another. Seeing all of these familiar faces made your palms sweaty and an anxious shiver go down your spine. They were all the former class 1-A students who met your father —whether that was by coincidence of scheduling, or these were the ones who couldn’t believe the case at hand, you didn’t know. None of them were as close as Mina and Katsuki so this truthfully had nothing to do with the past, but everything to do with the present news that came out not too long ago.

They were helping to protect their old friend’s child, and his now speculated ‘wife’.

“. . . I can’t give you any more information than that, the old bastard has all of his dirty work under security, but there’s someone who can.” Katsuki said, and you looked up at him from your spot next to Ashido and Kirishima, vacating your thoughts to meet his eyes that had landed on you. “Y/N.” He called, and you stood up from your seat.

You glanced at them all again, taking note of their very clear interest while finding the words to help them understand what you knew. It wasn’t just the ones who you had just seen again for the first time in years, this was also information and a plan that you had not run through with Katsuki, Mina, or Eijirou who had discussed this meeting with you beforehand. Whether it was because all three of them looked so concerned with your safety that your plan would positively not be received well, or simply because you yourself weren’t prepared to put everything at stake wasn’t abundantly clear.

A warm and soft hand grabbed hold of yours from where you stood, and you glanced at Mina to see her smiling with encouragement. “Don’t worry, I’ll have your back, ‘kay?” She said, and you squeezed her hand.

“Okay then. First things first, I want you all to know that I haven’t had contact with him since the last year you have all seen me, not even money related. When I was in close contact with him, I was unaware of any illegal actions he’d done until I was kicked out. Are there any questions on that?” You began, doing your best to get the most obvious questions out of the way first.

The eight heroes in the room — Tokoyami, Sero, Kaminari, Todoroki, Uraraka, Ashido, Kirishima, and Bakugou — all glanced at each other for a moment, and two hands went up: Todoroki, Kaminari. You looked to Todoroki first, his dual colored eyes piercing into yours like he knew you. From what you remembered from all that hero news Ryu loved, he had his own personal family issues that ended up public information. Honestly, you didn’t know if he was looking at you like that because he related to you, or was greatly suspicious of you. Either way, you nodded at him to voice his questions first.

“Did your father use you to fulfill his own goals?”

“Todoroki, let’s stick to questions that have something to do with the crimes and just her father.” Kirishima sweatdropped, and you could see Katsuki’s expression from the corner of your eye that looked like he wanted to send an AP shot right through his left side.

‘Never let him ask me anything, good to know.’

“Kami- Chargebolt, you had a question.” You redirected the attention to Denki who looked as done with Todoroki as the rest of the group, but once you called on him he refocused on you.

“If you knew he was doing illegal stuff at some point, why didn’t you say anything to the police before?” He asked.

The air became thick in the room, and all of them looked at you with their full attention once again, and that’s how you needed it to answer that. What they were about to take on may not be physically exhausting as a villain, but the mental toll this could take would be something they’d never forget. Their images will forever be changed in the media, and they’ll never look at those who run this world the same when you expose to them the man that they’d only met as a hopeful teenager. This was a man who would stop at nothing to stay on top, even going as far as to threaten his own blood’s life to ensure silence.

“When I got kicked out of my home, pregnant and a disgrace to him, he realized that I may not have known much about how the underground business he did, but I could easily stain his image by telling my story. About a month after I was kicked out, when I was two months pregnant, a man showed up at the hotel I was staying at and attempted to kill my baby. I survived with bruises and a stab wound that entered just between my rib cage instead of directly into my stomach. That man was hired by my father to kill me. . my mother had come to the hospital to break that news to me. She is the reason another attempt hadn’t been made on my life, but it was at the cost of me disappearing and never returning again.” You laid out the full story, sparing gruesome details but not leaving any room for confusion or continued suspicion.

Denki looked horrified as he tried to apologize, “I didn’t think he did something like that to you. I’m-“

You cut him off with a raised hand, “that’s why you’re here now. No one knows how evil Eito L/N is, because he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing to the public. This isn’t your routine evidence and arrest case, and if you think there’s a low that my dear old father won’t reach to make me disappear, you’re going to end up dead, or so far in the gutter of negative media attention that your career will be over in days. You’re going to find out information that will destroy the relationship between you and the men that have made you heroes. As we speak, he is most likely ten steps ahead of us all and expecting us to move as quietly as we can for the sake of your licenses and my business.” You explained, and Uraraka stood up in distress.

“Then we should be looking for evidence! Doesn’t this mean you could be being followed right now? Why are we sitting here discussing it?” She asked, and you nodded in agreement at her words.

“You’re right, but there’s a quick end to this that only I can do at the risk of my own life. . I didn’t go over this with any of you, and I deeply apologize for the trouble I will soon be causing, but I can’t let all of you save my life while I lay down and cower with my son.”

You whipped out your phone and searched up the first news outlet that came to mind, and just as you expected, your video was being played as you spoke. You laid it out on the table after turning the sound up, watching the video you had recorded last night played to the public.

“I am Y/N L/N, the daughter of a very well known man, Eito L/N. Six years ago, he told the public that I went overseas in search of a different life, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In actuality, six years ago, Eito kicked me out of his home after finding out I was pregnant and used that story to cover up my disappearance. I have since been living on my own with no help or contact from my father, and I urge all of you to look closer at those in power and wealth. You have no idea what they could be doing behind closed doors. Thank you.” You turned your phone off and slipped in back in your pocket as they all took in what you had done, and it was of course Katsuki who spoke up first.

“What the hell did you do?!” He growled, and you met his concerned and angry eyes with frightening intent.

“I’m making this a media circus, Dyanmight,” you smiled.

“You’re drawing him out, but why? Won’t that make this worst?” Tokoyami asked, but you weren’t the one to answer.

“He doesn’t know what she’s going to do. . she’s making it impossible to keep his tracks covered.” Todoroki looked at you, and you both nodded at each other in complete understanding. “Y/N just made this a lot easier for us.”

A/N: I was gonna keep dad’s name neutral, but it just didn’t make sense that they all would constantly refer to him as her father. So evil dad’s name is Eito! This is pretty much a small filler before we reach our real drama and end. I can’t promise a soon update and the hiatus is still very much in motion, but I wanted to get this out to you. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha angst #katsuki bakugo x y/n #anime x reader #bnha x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader

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serendipityjxmn · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 11

TW: None

Words Count: 2.6k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 12

You think one day of rest was enough since you can walk perfectly well now without wincing. So you wake earlier than Jimin the next day, marvelling at his features for a few moments but also fighting the urge to punch him out of giving you sleeping pills so you could oversleep and not come to work.

But now that you’ve reached the office, you feel nervous. You don’t know how to face Minhyuk. You don’t know if you could even face him.

Luckily, you don’t see him at all throughout the morning. During lunch however, when you return to the office, you see him first before he does yet he just brushes right pass you. You feel relieved yet you can’t shake off the strange feeling.

And your hunch turns out to be right when Minhyuk starts being mean from the next encounter and forward. He gets angry at you for the smallest of reasons. He doesn’t quite look at you when he gives order and when you ask him to clarify things, sometimes he would glare at you. It also doesn’t help that as you get more nervous you tend to make more mistakes.

Work feels even more exhausting when you’re mentally stressed at workplace. You come home with a headache that one night.

As soon as you prepared Jimin’s dinner, you hunt for some medicines and brings it with you as you head towards the room at the end of the hallway which you’ve somehow turned into your small office area (and your husband doesn’t seem to mind so-). You sit yourself on the sofa and shifts through the documents. The expenses report from several departments submitted during today’s meeting aren’t due for review until Friday yet Minhyuk says he wants to see it first thing next morning. You know he’s just doing it to get back at you and he’d probably ended up stacking the files on his table untouched just like the last task which means you’re doing this for naught anyway but you don’t want to give him any chance of finding your fault so here you are.

Your head feels like spinning so you quickly gulp down the medicine and force yourself to start on your work. Half an hour into it though, you don’t realize when you had fallen asleep.

You wake up next day in your own bed, perfectly tucked in while Jimin sleeps soundly next to you. You sit up almost immediately.

You look at the sleeping figure next to you, his snores are very light, you note.

Unknowingly, you inch closer to his side. You’ve always loved his smell. He just smells like... him.

You’re pretty sure he tucked you in last night. Why does he pretend to be so harsh all the time if he actually cares for you?

Maybe it isn’t impossible to build a civil relationship with him. With your husband.

You stare at his features. You can’t deny it. Jimin’s really good looking. And this good looking man is your husband. Sometimes you still have trouble believing.

Your eyes fall to his lips. His plump pink lips looks very tempting. You briefly wonder if-

Don’t.

Don’t fall for him.

And at that exact moment, Jimin’s eyes shot open while simultaneously his hand grips your right hand that hovers over his face seconds ago tightly. You freeze completely, not moving a muscle because you know he’s doing it out of reflex and you don’t want to dwell on how he’s trained for that.

His stare at you is murderous and your hand move to retreat but he kept his grip vice like on your wrist.

And you could feel the intensity slowly rising between the both of you.

You could’ve sworn his face inches closer to you and you panic instantly so you back away and sit up. Without wasting another breath, you get up and disappear into the shower.

You panic at your desk. In light of this morning’s incident, finding yourself in your bed instead of the sofa as well the tense moments with Jimin, you weren’t in the right state of mind so you completely forgot about the report Minhyuk asks you to handle yesterday.

You gather your courage to tell Irene first.

“Ah the sales reports?” She says and you nod. “Mr. Park already handed it to me first thing this morning when he arrived. I went to see Mina just now and handed the reports to Mr. Kim as well.”

O...kay. You definitely don’t expect that but you can’t help but sigh in relief. Did Jimin take it last night when he finds you in the small library room?

“Wait. If you brought the files home last night, how does Mr. Park have it?” Irene narrows her eyes at you.

Shoot. “Um- I forgot I didn’t- I mean, I just realized I didn’t bring it home at all. My head was really spinning last night and I thought I brought it home, turns out I didn’t.” You fake a smile. “Perhaps Mr. Park saw it on my table.”

Irene huffed at your answer, perhaps contemplating whether to believe you or not. She doesn’t say anything after that.

You’re at Mina’s table, discussing with her about updates on meetings with R&D team as requested by your husband when Kim Minhyuk appears from his office room, storming at you with a furious look.

“Miss Y/N, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” He shouts at you, making everyone at the office look up and you feel small immediately. “Are you even doing your job?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Kim-“

“This!” He pushes a document towards you and you look down to see the sales report yesterday.

“Is there something wrong-“

“You fucking tell me.” He snarls. “Tell me, how on earth did you organize this? I don’t understand a single thing. Did you even do it?”

You remain silent. Because he’s right. You didn’t do it. But how can you say that? What would you say to him? That your husband, the president, the CEO arranged the report?

“I honestly have no idea if you’re coming for work or you’re just fucking around.” He hisses.

You literally hear the gasps from your office mate.

You draw a breath, trying to calm yourself to face Minhyuk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim if you’re not satisfied but-“

“Mr. Park.” Someone says. Your stomach lurch instantly.

Both you and Minhyuk look up. Your lung drops when you sight your husband standing few metres away, his hands in his pocket.

“Jimin.” Minhyuk addresses your husband.

Jimin’s eyes are on you and you look down immediately. Anxiety starts filling you up. Is he going to shout at you too?

He crosses the distance and stops short before you and Minhyuk.

“Minhyuk.” Jimin nods at him. “Do you mind if I borrow.. my wife for a moment?”

Everyone in the room gasps including you.

You stare up at him, eyes wide in shock. He wasn’t looking at you, he was smiling at Minhyuk although you know it’s entirely a facade.

You eyes flicker to Minhyuk. His expression is priceless. You’ve never seen him in a state more shock, what with all his constant smirk or flirty expression.

“Y-your wife?” He stutters.

Jimin steps closer to you then place his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him that earns another gasp around the room. “My wife,” he reconfirms. Then towards you, he smiles briefly before he pulls you with him and leaves you at your desk before you could say anything as he walks back towards his office.

You’ve no idea what to say.

Everyone knows you’re his wife now.

And you’ve never felt so guilty towards Jimin.

Irene had never been this loud before, you think.

“Like what on earth- I really wouldn’t know! Like you know, with the way he’s treating you or literally everyone with his cold personality. Oh well, I guess that explains his stares at you.”

You stare at her. “He.. stares.. at me?”

“He does! Quite a lot actually. Caught him on a few occasions. You probably won’t notice them but I have eyes of a hawk.” She winks at you.

“You’re sure he’s not doing it to everyone?”

“Hmm he kind of does actually.. But with you- I don’t know. The look is softer, I think.” Irene says fondly.

You shake your head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not.” She sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or anyone for that matter.”

You give her a small smile. “We wanted to keep it private. Don’t really wanna mix work.”

She nods at this. Then suddenly, her eyes widen at you then clasps your hand tightly. “Oh God! You really really have to forgive me.”

You frown. “You did something wrong?”

“Remember when you asked me about Clara Kim? Oh God- and I freaking told you she’s his girlfriend oh Lord- I’ve commited a huge sin, I know- and I’m so so sorry-“

You burst out laughing. She looks puzzled at first but then joins you. Then she turns serious. “But were you for real? You really don’t know who Clara Kim is?”

You bit your lips, unsure how to answer her. Then you slowly nod. “I don’t know.”

She looks at you in sympathy then leans down to whisper, “You think he’s cheating?”

You know he does. “No, I don’t think so. If he is, why would he let his wife be his secretary where she practically knows all his schedule?”

“Hmph. Makes sense, I guess.” She straightens herself then. “Okay. I’m going out to lunch. You coming?”

At that same moment, Jimin comes out. His eyes find you immediately. “Had your lunch?”

“I’m about to head out with Irene.”

“No- no Mr. Park. I forgot I actually had plans with my boyfriend. She’s all yours.” Irene says, already picking up her stuffs and standing.

You know she just made that up so you try as hard to give her the eye that you don’t wanna go for lunch with your husband now but she dashes off super quickly, leaving you with your husband.

“Come on.” He says.

You stand rooted to your spot, not budging. Jimin turns back to look at you. “I’m- I’m gonna have lunch with Mina.”

He glares at you and you almost want to cower but still holds your decision.

“Fine then.” He grunts then walks away. You heave a sigh of relief.

You don’t actually plan to have lunch with Mina. In fact, you don’t feel like going out at all. Instead, you sink back onto your chair. Your iPad in front of you flashes and you grab it instantly.

You feel your blood runs cold immediately upon seeing it.

You’re all over the news.

[REVEALED] Seoul’s most successful young CEO, Park Jimin’s wife identity revealed.

Mid this year, a large population of young women in South Korea had their hearts broken when arguably, Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, a young and good looking, successful CEO of the largest tech company, Park Jimin announced that he would be tying the knot with non-public figure woman, who’s identity remains closely kept secret.

But we finally know now who’s the girl that has stolen the heart of the heir to Parks Corporations. The woman is revealed to be __, 23 years old, currently working as secretary at Park Jimin’s own company, Bangtan Inc. It seems like the President wants to keep the wife close- much to the single ladies who’s working in the company’s heartbreak. The background of Park Jimin’s wife is yet to be known but whoever she may be, she must be reading a helluva of a prenup. Bagging South Korea’s allegedly most eligible bachelor, perhaps we can arrange a session to ask for a tip or two?

You wish the ground could swallow you whole.

Isn’t it illegal to be exposing informations of non public figure like this? Though you suppose the writer is trash anyway when he exposed your identity while clearly stating you’re a non public figure in the same line.

Wasn’t your marriage to Jimin suposed to be a secret and your identity kept hidden?

Yeah but then you yourself went to work at his company, gets harrassed that drive to the point of Jimin having to expose your relationship.

God. Both your index finger pressed each side of your temple tightly.

You’re contemplating whether you’re supposed to go back with Jimin so you decided to just go with him if he comes out of the office around the same time you’re off work but if he doesn’t then you’ll head home first and you desperately pray for the latter.

However, all hopes went down the drain when Jimin appears out of his room and only glares at you for a few seconds before you scramble to your feet and hastily packs your stuff.

And that’s how you find yourself walking timidly, very self conscious behind him as everyone stares at the two of you and you think it couldn’t get anymore embarassing at this.

Jimin is silent during the car ride. He busied himself with his iPad, leaving you fidgeting in the heavy silence. You decided to just man up and address the elephant in the room.

“J-Jimin..” you call softly. “I’m sorry it came down to this.. and now everyone knows you’re- I’m- um.. we’re-“

“Married.” He cuts you off.

You look up at him. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still on his tab.

“We’re married.” He repeats. “Is that so hard to say?” He asks, finally looking at you.

“No- I me-“

“Nevermind.” He turns his gaze back to his tab and the conversation is over.

You don’t mean it that way but you just don’t want people looking down at him for marrying you, someone of no status and not even a decent upbringing background.

You play with the spoon on your hand, guilt still swallowing you whole. Drawing a breath, you look up at Jimin who’s drinking his glass of water. You’re both on the dining table, only sounds of cutleries can be heard.

“Jimin, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for all this to get exposed. I’m sorry.” You say softly.

His expression turns cold. “Are you?” He asks, looking straight at you with piercing eyes, making you recoil.

“What do you mean? I didn’t want this to happen either-“

“Yeah none of this would’ve happened if you just sit your ass at home, playing house or the perfect fucking wife.” He sneers. “Instead, you just have to work in my own fucking company, get yourself harrassed and left me with no choice.”

You want to answer him, that he’s being unfair because you didn’t ask to be harrassed but Jimin was raging so you stay muted.

“It’s dangerous, do you know that? Now everyone knows who my wife is and it’s fucking dangerous-“

“Why?” You cut him. “Tell me why it’s dangerous- Jimin who are you-“

He raises from his seat and leans down to you, face merely inches away and you swallow. “I’m a dangerous person darling.. I can snap your neck in two and you won’t see it coming.” He says as his fingers touch your neck, in an act that seems as if it’s caressing it but you know better. “And now that everyone knows who you are.. that means they can come and snap your neck too baby. But of course, you wouldn’t see it coming. And that’s what happens when you don’t listen to me. Not when I tell you to quit your fucking job, not ever.”

He raises again, standing upright before turning on his wheels and leaves you. You struggle to calm your erratic breath and nerves. And finally, you let the tears flow.

That night too, you wrote the resignation letter.

Link to Chapter 12

Posted on 210423 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #mr president #bts fic #bts au #bts smut #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #kpop fic #jimin smut #jimin ceo #jimin mafia #bts mafia #jimin x reader

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catgirlxox · 4 years ago

Text

Why "Alien X-Tinction" Was The Best Possible Conclusion

(To The Ben 10 Franchise as a whole, as of Right Now)

In short, while the Ben 10 Reboot isn't without faults, "Alien X-Tinction" did everything it could to pay tribute to what came before it, and why the Ben 10 Reboot could even be anywhere near successful for it's intended audience and for modern age of Cartoon Network.

*Obvious spoiler warning ahead.*

Main Reasons

To begin with the obvious, emphasis being made on the existence of the Omniverse (something I feel like the majority hadn't paid enough attention to during and after the last iteration) was important for several reasons. For instance, confirming what I've been saying all this time! And effectively knocking down certain misconceptions about unfinished or uncertain topics left behind in the previous show. So I really appreciated that.

It gave, at least me, a sense of closure, even though I feel Omniverse's final episode, "A New Dawn", had tried to do that, as well.

Anyway, in doing that, they brought back the original continuity, in honor of what the fans wanted, but the main focus was still on the three main characters (Ben, Gwen, and Max) - something that I've heard a lot of the fandom say was their favourite thing about the series when it first started: going on a family road trip with the occasion alien adventure.

Again, giving the people what they want, while remaining within the confines of what Cartoon Network or the higher ups probably directed them to do with the new series.

It's a compromise that satisfies everyone.

I also can't help but notice they included a limited amount of characters. I'd even say specifically the "fan favourites."

I bring this up because a lot of newer characters and character dynamics introduced in the later installations of the series weren't always well received. AKA, characters like Kai Green (especially her relationship with Ben), or even the way Gwen and Kevin were portrayed in everything following the OS (including their eventual romance).

As such, the special stuck to its roots and gave us something purely "Ben 10": action-packed and focusing on family bonds. Rather than including any other side themes people are divided on. Media like this is made for the people who will watch it, after all.

Notable Mentions

I don't know if anyone else picked up on this, but - characterization consistency with the previous shows! AF Ben was written decently serious like his "mature" self (as the fandom loves to praise him for being). And, UA Ben came in obviously much more sure of himself, which is also consistent with the transition from season three of Alien Force to his rise to fame during Ultimate Alien.

Speaking of characterization, this was AF Ben's reaction to Alternate Max's criticism of reboot Ben, calling him out for being, as he said, "a stubborn brat." Personally I think that's a little harsh, but regardless, it's almost as if he knows what that's like, or something. Interesting touch on the producers' part.

Even if they didn't use a whole lot of aliens, the animators did also go the extra mile in recreating the previous designs for the each of the aliens the alternate Bens used. And, some of the transformation scenes from the previous shows too, as a call back for those who might remember.

Things like this make it clear to me that the producers did their research in the production of new Ben 10 content.

Responding to Criticism

Since the reboot is what it is, I'll expect it to get a whole lot of criticism anyway. But the most common complaints I've heard so far are regarding UA Ben not turning into any ultimate aliens, and the use of Alien X's powers being underwhelming.

In the interest of trying to see what the producers might have had in mind, I thought that, since a younger version of himself was present, UA Ben using the ultimate feature would spoil the near future for AF Ben, and therefore might change the path he takes moving forward. Hence him using aliens from the UA era, like Amphibian, but not ultimates.

I would argue it was done to maintain consistency in the original continuity, as well as the way the Omniverse was set up to work.

As for the alternate evil Ben's "nerfed" use of Alien X, well, I've got a theory about that too. First of all, he's not Ben Prime. He's clearly been through a lot of hardship, and it's taken a toll on his mental state, outlook on the hero life, moral compass, and general wellbeing.

His whole plan was created out of revenge and anger. He wasn't thinking straight. How can you expect him to ultimately defeat everyone with that kind of handicap? Even if he had god powers - he was using them though a cloud of negative human emotions.

Powerscaling isn't really my thing, but I'm sure there was something more he could do if he was seriously set on accomplishing his goal without clouded judgement.

As for myself, my only criticism is regarding why they couldn't just draw the UAF jacket and the Ultimatrix right. It's upside down for...seemingly no reason, lol. But I can look past it, I guess. It was just cool to see Ben Prime again.

All three of him, that is.

#I had a good time last night <3 #and as is in my nature...an essay came out #it couldn't be helped lol #ben 10 #ben 10 reboot #reboot spoilers #alien x tinction #ben tennyson #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 omniverse #omniverse #multiverse #analysis #review #writers on tumblr #essay files

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icefire149 · 4 years ago

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An Angel’s Vow

Chapter Seven - (Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning)

An hour and a half later the three of them were standing outside of a large, chain store supermarket. Mesmerized, Jack’s eyes widened with excitement. “Daa!” He glanced at Cas and then immediately back at the building in front of them. “Daaa!”

Cas chuckled, rearranging Jack in his arms. Luckily because of his angelic strength, he could hold the baby with only one arm even when Jack was squirming. A rare, tiny smile stayed etched on Cas’ face.

Claire glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. For privacy Cas leaned in close to speak and Claire did too. “Every time he says Da, Jack keeps hitting me with his wings.”

“What?” Claire bumped her head into Cas’ shoulder. One of her hands latched onto the side of his sleeve. “He has wings? Can he fl-”

“Shh.” Claire closed her mouth and blinked. Cas continued. “Yes, he has wings. He doesn’t quite know...what they can….”

“Ohhhhh. Okay.” She glanced at the baby still caught up with all the sights and sounds of the busy supermarket. His little fist was against Cas’ chest. “Yeah we wouldn’t want a flight risk situation.”

“Absolutely not.”

They went inside and Jack twisted and squirmed more in Cas’ arm. “Big!”

Grinning, Claire followed along at Cas’ side. She was paying more attention to Jack than she was her surroundings at this point. “Is this his first time?”

“The local market is much smaller than this.” Cas turned his head to glance around. They were aimlessly walking straight into the middle of the store. He seemed almost overwhelmed himself, and he held Jack closer.

“Sooo are we avoiding the toy aisle or not?” Claire raised a teasing eyebrow.

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Is that something I should be worried about?”

“Nah. You might need a shopping cart though.”

He blinked and looked intently at the people walking past them. They all had one. “You might have a point.”

“How else were you going to carry everything?” she quipped. Her eyes caught the movement of his hand. “You know you don’t have to hold Jack every moment of the day, right?”

It didn’t matter how fast he pushed down his emotions, Claire still caught the wave of fear in his eyes. Her smile faltered. “Is….being out of the house too much for you?”

“No.”

“Then what? You look spooked.”

Cas surveyed their surroundings again and he pulled her in even closer. “You don’t understand what could happen if we’re found. And there’s a lot of people here.”

“Okay,” Claire said, taking a step back. “But you said it yourself. No one’s shown up since Jack was born. And you’ve warded us. There’s nothing else you can do.”

“That’s not good enough.”

She put a hand on her hip. “Well too bad. It’s all you got.”

Cas rolled his eyes. Jack watched their exchange curiously.

“If anything happens we’ll do like we’ve always done. We fight.”

Cas shook his head and stepped forward, trying to exude a menacing aura. Claire stared back at him unfazed.

“If anything happens,” Cas started. “you run. Disappear into the crowd. Get as far away from me, Jack, and here as possible. You don’t want to be tied to this, Claire.”

“Well maybe...you should have thought of that before you ran off with my dad’s face!”

They both stood there, Claire silently fuming and Cas choking on his guilt, for a while. People passed on by them, oblivious.

“Laire.” Jack broke the tension. He reached his hands out to Claire.

Sighing, she put her arms out to take him. Cas bit his bottom lip.

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“I trust you with my life.”

“With Jack’s too?”

Wordlessly, Cas handed the nephilim over. After a few moments of shuffling, she ended up with Jack seated on her hip. His fingers curled into the fabric of her light jacket.

“Go take a moment. Scout for enemies if you gotta. Shoo.” Claire waved him off.

Cas rolled his eyes with his whole body. He sighed, “Claire.”

“Just go get the cart. We’ll meet you where ever the baby clothes are.”

“Okay.” Cas crouched down to Jack’s eye level. “Behave.”

“Oo-kay, Da,” Jack said before squishing his face into Claire’s side.

“Yeah, bye Da,” Claire teased with a sharp edge to her voice.

Rolling his eyes, yet again, Cas went searching for the shopping carts.

Chuckling, Claire readjusted Jack again and looked around for any sign of where they needed to go. “Okay-” Jack stared up at her intently. “Jack.” His head tilted and his eyes squinted like he wanted to ask a question.

She wondered if he could tell that she stopped honeybee before it rolled off her tongue. Shaking it off, she continued, “Let’s look for some new clothes.”

Cas brought himself back to the entrance of the store. He wasn’t exactly sure where the shopping carts were, but logically this felt like the correct location. This would have been easier if he wasn’t still on edge. His eyes kept darting around, looking for anything suspicious.

It didn’t make a bit of sense to him that no one had come for Jack yet. He turned before realizing it was the clanging of metal coming his way that caught his attention. A whole line of carriages were being pushed near by. A relieved sigh escaped him. At least that was one less thing to waste time thinking about.

Cas stood back and watched where the shopping carts were being brought. He planned on waiting for the store employee to go before he selected one. A large part of his mind kept circling around Jack. His birth should have emitted a pulse large enough to draw untold numbers of eyes, and it likely did. They escaped, yes, but there’s a good chance Jack emits pulses of power at random. Likely, when he grows….like last night. Probably once he figures out more things he’s capable of doing too. Cas felt like a heavy stone had been dropped into his stomach.

He felt like he was failing his mission. Castiel needed to get back to Claire and Jack immediately. He needed to keep them safe. Frowning, his frayed wings itched to unravel into waves of light again, but after everything….they’re incapable of ever reaching the correct pitch. If they could, he wouldn’t have to worry. He would be able to see the kids from here.

The carts were left over by the far wall. Cas made his way over and looked over a few of them. They all appeared to be the same, but he found that some were dirtier than others and the metal was sharp in places on another. Eventually, he settled on one that seemed suitable enough for the task.

His hands curled around the handle, and he turned the cart around. Castiel? He froze. Um, Cas? It’s Sam.

They walked around for a while before coming close to the right section. The store felt like a labyrinth. Claire turned to peek around the aisles. “Do you see Cas anywhere?”

“No Daa?” Jack frowned.

“Nope. No Cas anywhere.” Claire stopped and leaned against a shelf. “He’ll be here soon. He always comes back.”

And then, there was a muffled ringing noise coming from Claire’s pocket. Sighing, she struggled to dig it out with her free hand. Of course, it flew out of her hand. “Fuck!” She missed catching it.

But before it could smash into the ground, it stopped. The phone was floating in mid air, still ringing. Claire snatched before anyone else could see. “Holy fuck, Jack. Was that you? You’re telekinetic?!”

Shy, he hid his face in her side. A soft smile was there before he squished himself into her.

“Hello?…..Claire? You there?”

She looked at the phone in her hand. It was Alex. The call answered during the scramble. “Shit.” Jack peeked a curious eye at her. Claire put the phone up to her ear. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“Jack who? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Cut to the chase.”

One of Jack’s hands curled into her hair while he squinted at her. She shot him a, don’t you dare, look.

“Oooo someone’s defensive. Spill barbie. What’s with the secret dream house life? I thought you were on a hunt.”

“Shut it. Don’t be gross.”

“Gross? I’m not the one hiding a boooy.”

“Stop it! He’s like-….just stop. He’s a literal toddler that I’m holding.”

“What! Who handed you a baby?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I thought Jody said you were dealing with a haunting.”

“Things change. Now did you want something?”

“Are you….okay?”

“Yeah!”

Jack’s expression softened, but his fingers were still tangled in her hair. “Ookay. Okay. Okay. Okay.”

“Holy shit. You’re actually holding a baby right now.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“I just can’t picture you with a kid.”

“Don’t you have other people to drain? I-”

“Daaas!” Jack started squirming so fast that he tugged hard on Claire’s hair. He tried reaching his hands out. “Das!”

“-gotta go,” Claire mumbled, looking up to see Cas pushing the shopping cart towards them. But then, his eyes widened. Him and the cart moved faster towards them and Claire was certain it wasn’t Cas’ doing.

“Jack!” Cas yelled, and he stopped moving. Jack buried his face and hands into Claire’s jacket.

“Claire? Who was-” Claire hung up and shoved the phone back into her pant’s pocket.

“Hey Cas. Did you know that Jack is telekinetic?” Claire unhooked his fingers and held Jack out to him while he stopped the cart in front of them.

Jack clapped his hands and then reached them out. “Das!”

Cas raised an eyebrow and Claire shrugged. He took Jack back into his arms. “I had a feeling he’d be telekinetic. It’s a simple thing any angel can do.”

Crossing her arms, Claire shot Cas a pointed look. “So you’ve been holding out on me?”

“I fail to see when this would have come up.”

Claire stepped away from the shelf and walked a few steps before turning around. “True.”

Nodding, Cas turned his attention to Jack. With his free hand, he lightly held onto one of Jack’s hands. “I need you to listen well, honeybee. We need to wait until we get home before we do any more moving things with our minds business.”

Jack frowned, sticking his bottom lip out.

Cas slightly tilted his head to the side. “Okay?”

“F-uck.”

#spn #supernatural #Castiel #Jack Kline #baby jack truthing #Claire Novak #An Angel's Vow #my writing

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