#i’ve gotten to the point where i want to like live in his skin lol so we are spending like i’d say 3-4 days of the week together

[urbanfiltered]

/:

[cattolino]

like me better.

pairing: lee minho x f reader. warnings: hand kink, fingering, praise kink if you squint, slightly narcissistic minho but he just loves himself too much lol, implied oral (m receiving). genre: smut, strangers to friends to lovers/fwb....? rating: explicit. word count: 2.6k

Changbin’s roommate had the sexiest hands.

And you said exactly that.

Lee Minho was a second year digital arts student and taught dance classes in his spare time. With an experienced dancer body and a face that looked sculpted by the Greek Gods themselves, Minho was accustomed to admiring remarks about his ideal body proportions, his muscular and flexible physique, his thick and sinewy thighs, his excellent and toned pecs, his sharp jawline, his plump and pouty lips, his pointed nose, his big and round eyes… and the list went on because everyone always had something to talk about when it came to Lee Minho.

As a complement to his exquisite appearance, he had just the right amount of confidence that made people either want to be with him or want to be him. It was like every fragment of his being was the pristine example of transcendence beauty. Very praiseworthy. And everyone should be jealous. Minho was aware of all that. To be frank he relished in the heart eyes of people as they walked past him.

But then Changbin brought you into his shared apartment to work on a project together.

Instead of widened eyes and parted lips and a stuttered breathing like the reactions he’d gotten from most people, you beamed and happily greeted him with an unashamedly loud and sincere “oh, wow, you’re really pretty! And nice hair, too!” before following Changbin to the living room.

Your compliments were honest. But clearly lacked worship. And where’s the ulterior motive in the eyes begging to get fucked? Thought anyone wants him in bed? Minho blinked, glancing at your back.

And then it was the umpteenth time you came to hang out. You and Changbin doodled on your respective sketchbooks but you’d been too distracted to carry on. You were blatantly staring at Minho’s hands chopping some vegetables on the kitchenette across from you. The next minute you casually told him that he had the sexiest hands you had ever seen.

He couldn’t help but choke on his own spit coughing profusely as his knife clattered against the cutting board. Changbin eyed you with a clear “what the fuck” look evident on his disgusted face.

Because when people say something about Minho’s hands, it would be that they were nice or soft or chubby or just anything else other than sexy. You shrugged, “I said what I said.”

You weren’t joking. His arms might not be as beefy and massive as Changbin’s, but you thought they were the perfect amount of toned and well-defined. The veins protruding along the skin of the back of his hands and forearms especially when he was straining might be the cause of your sudden moan. The width and length of his hands were below the average of an adult male that you likened them to kitten paws sometimes.

But his fingers… Well, they were thicker and longer in size than most people you hooked up with. And most definitely much thicker and a little longer than yours.

So yes, when you said his hands were the sexiest you had ever seen, you weren’t joking.

“You should stop saying I have nice hands.” Minho commented with a laugh one day.

You were filling in your glass with ice water from the fridge as he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed against his chest.

“Oh, but I never did.” You denied, before sneaking a quick glance at him with a chuckle, “I said they’re sexy.”

“And you mean it?”

You turned on your heel with a glass full to the brim, “from the myriad of hands I’ve observed, yes, yours belong to the sexy category.”

He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, brows furrowing amusedly as an idea that’d been invading his thoughts lately travelled down to the edge of his tongue, threatening to be let out. And he did, “so you have a hand kink.”

You hopped onto the counter and paused for a moment, taking a gulp from the glass, letting the cool liquid freshen up your throat as you stared up at the ceiling. And then you shrugged, “yeah, that makes sense.”

If Minho was surprised at your nonchalance at the accusation, it wasn’t shown through his face as his grin widened and he laughed. You glanced over at him with a raised brow, “what?”

He shook his head, “do you usually go around telling people you like their hands and admit it right away when they tell you that you might have a hand kink?”

“Not people. Just Changbin and you.”

“You like his hands too?”

“His hands are sexy.”

“Sexier than mine?”

“Gotta be honest, no.”

“I always love your honesty.”

“You mean you love the compliments.”

“So you like my hands better?”

Your eyes narrowed with interest, all while the distance between you and Minho had eventually gradually scaled down. He was practically standing between your legs, and the glass in your hand was the only barrier between your chests. You took another sip of the cold water, “depending on what needs to be done.”

“I’ll make it easier. Whose you’d prefer to have around your neck?”

“What the fuck kind of conversation did I just heard?” Changbin stood behind you across the island counter with a pair of ice packs attached to the back of his thighs. Yesterday was his leg day.

Minho shrugged, “just kinks and stuff.”

Changbin’s face contorted in disgust as he walked around to grab a can of diet coke from the fridge. He sauntered back to his bedroom, leaving the scene with a shout, “I don’t care if you bang each other. Just not in the kitchen!”

Minho shouted back, “suggestion accepted!”

You rolled your eyes with a giggle, pushing his chest away with a pad of your finger and about to hop off the counter but you caged you in. He took your glass and put it on the counter, leaning in to speak lower despite his roommate having been out of earshot.

“So whose hands you like better?” You thought it was just another flirting attempt, unless there wasn’t a sign of it on his face when he said that. Instead, his eyes were searching for yours as he was waiting for an answer.

You smiled.

Perhaps you had a hand kink. Combined with the attractive Lee Minho? And you’re dead.

You were settled in his lap, back flushed against his chest as he reclined back against the leather headboard of his bed. His legs intertwined with your own, holding each of your legs apart as his hand smothered along the inner of your thigh. His other hand rested around your throat, keeping the back of your head stilled on his shoulder as his lips moulded with yours.

Once his thumb added a slight pressure to the side of your neck, you released a shaky breath into his mouth. And he smiled against your lips.

He discarded his shirt, leaving himself with only his boxer shorts. The whereabouts of your skirt and shirt were vague in your head. Probably in the doorway of his room where he’d had you pinned against earlier, or somewhere at the foot of the bed where he’d dragged you from to settle between his thighs. Somehow you just ended up in only your panties and bra.

He caught your lips again. His hand trailed up to the warmth of your center, fingertips gently rubbed against your clothed cunt before he hooked a finger around your panties and dragged the thin fabric to the side. You pulled away once the cool air caressed your bare entrance, head thrown back on his shoulder and releasing a long sigh as he began stroking your clit.

He nibbled the shell of your ear. The hand on your neck cradled your jaw, pulling your head off of his shoulder for you to look down. “Watch.”

And God, were you so soaked already.

Even in the dim of his room you could still see how his palm and fingers were glistening, his slick-wet skin reflecting the lights from the night lamps at each side of his bed. But hotter than all of that was the protruding veins that bulged along his arm all the way to the back of his hand as his fingers persistently rubbed your clit, each stroke leading his middle digit to dip deeper into your entrance. You squirmed and mewled, legs lightly shaking at the mere sight of it.

There had been a few nights out with alcohol in your system where someone would have their fingers deep inside your walls and make you moan out loud. Minho wasn’t the only person who’d laid a finger on your sensitive area trying to get you off, but nobody had ever managed to get you drenched with only the tip of their finger barely inside you like he did now, no. To his credit, there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in your system. Only a few gulps of cold water.

The amount of slick you produced pooled in the creases towards the center of his palm. You gripped his wrist tight, whining out loud cries of his name as he kept assaulting your clit with perseverance. His lips stretched wide into a pleased grin, chin resting on your shoulder as he himself watched his middle finger slowly sink into your entrance.

“You haven’t answered my question.”

His thirst for compliments. Seriously.

The answer was, his. His hands were just so oddly sexy it was ridiculous. But curse him and his overflowing confidence and overwhelming self love. You might want to tease him a little.

You bit down onto your lower lip as you watched his finger sink deeper and deeper, your walls clenched at the intrusion. Your grip around his wrist loosened, letting him go inside of you further. You let out a long exhale, and hummed, “Changbin.”

And all the increasingly pleasant tinglings coiling up in the pit of your stomach forcefully boiled away as he pulled his finger out. You turned to him with furrowed brows of disapproval.

“Better ask Changbin to make you feel better than I could ever do then, darling. I’m afraid I’m not up to your standards.” His lips pursed into a feigning frown as he spoke. But in contrast to his disappointed pout, he brought his hand up to his lips, licking his drenched digits clean with a sensual movement of his tongue without breaking eye contact.

You wouldn’t lose to him. You’d get what you wanted. You weren’t the only one affected here, if the slight poke on your backside was anything to go by.

You mirrored his pout, palm wrapping around his wrist and bringing it back down between your thighs. He let you, but only until his palm hovered over your folds, barely touching you. His face twisted with an impish grin, “you know the magic words.”

Still with a feigning pout, you leaned close to plant kisses up his jaw, then settled your head back down on his shoulder. Your face nuzzled the side of his neck. “Of course I love your hands better, silly. Isn’t it obvious enough?”

“Better than everybody else’s?”

If you had learnt something else about him tonight, it was that everything seemed to be a competition for him. Or he was just eager to have your sole attention on him. Tsk.

You hummed.

His fingers thrusted once.

Then twice.

“Words, baby.”

You grinded down, shifting backwards to where a tent of his erection poke your backside. He groaned at the slight contact, then humping forward to get more friction, while simultaneously adding the second finger in.

You giggled, “better than even my own hands.”

It was all he needed to give you what you wanted. His middle and ring fingers were sliding in and out of your walls in an unforgiving pace that made your thighs quiver. His other hand found its place around your middle. You looked down, purring when you watched his fingers only get wetter and wetter as they kept disappearing and reappearing inside of you.

“Oh—” you sighed, nails clawing at his arm, “good… feel so good…”

As if his fingers weren’t already tormenting enough, his hips began jerking forward, his clothed bulge grazing and rubbing between your ass.

Your eyes threatened to slide close at the tingles in your stomach that gradually evolved into an overwhelming bliss the more he assaulted you from both sides. And yet you couldn’t give up on keeping track of the indecent sight down there; his thick and long digits invading your walls and poking deep into your bundle of nerves, his whole hand coated with your juices and the drenched sheets beneath you.

It was too much. His fingers were too much. His throbbing clothed length was too much. The sight was too much.

And then you convulsed, your walls clenched hard. Head thrown back, curses and his name and an endless of “good… good… good…” spilling out of your parted lips. It wasn’t a plain white ceiling above your head, but stars and white and sparks.

His fingers curled, drawing more of your juices to dribble out of your hole.

When had been the last time you came you hard with just two fingers inside you? But it was two thick fingers and veined hands of Lee Minho we’re talking about here.

You heard a loud pop beside you. Minho was licking clean his slick-glazed fingers. “Tastes so sweet,” he hummed in delight.

Even in your fucked out state, your mind went towards the prominent erection that kept twitching against your backside. Hell, you could even feel his precum even through his shorts and the thin lace of your panties.

“You haven’t— you haven’t come… you…” you said between ragged breaths, attempting to turn around.

He chuckled, sliding his shorts off and helping you lay on your side between his legs. He carefully pulled you closer where your head could comfortably rest on his bare thigh.

He combed through your hair that was half wet with sweat, moving the stray strands out of your face before stroking your cheek softly. Maybe you shouldn’t have only paid attention to his sexy, veined hands because oh my God he looked godly from down here. Perhaps you eventually grasped the obsession people had over him.

You almost gave into the gentle touches of his hand on your face, head still hazy with the most blissful orgasm you’d had in a long while— if it wasn’t for a distracting view presented right there for only you to gawk at.

Your hooded eyes fixated on the glory of his length that stood proud against his toned abs. Your hand reacted faster than your hazy brain, mindlessly reaching for the base and stroking it lightly.

Your eyes were big and pleasing when looking up at him, wordlessly and helplessly asking for permission. He snickered.

“Pretty,” he caressed the side of your face down to your jaw, “so pretty for me.”

Then he brought his hand up to his face. He licked his thumb. The pad of his forefinger tipped up your chin, and his thumb rushed over your parted lips, coating the plump flesh with his spit.

His unoccupied palm led your hand to properly wrap around the base of his cock, guiding you to stroke and palm the head. And when you thought he was about to jerk himself off using your hand, he dragged your face closer with his other hand and hovered the tip of his cock over your lips, precum slowly dribbling out of its slit.

He parted your lips wider with a thumb, smiling down at you, “my turn?”

[ay0nha]

request? could you write something with Damon having major sexual tension with a backing member of gorillaz (like a violinist or something) it’s vagueeee but still

SUMMARY: A warm smell surrounded you that’s familiarity made something bloom in your chest. It wasn’t a far cry to admit Damon was attractive. Any star was. Something scratched at your chest, toyed with you. It taunted you to bring the fabric close and be consumed by it. But Damon’s eyes were fixated on your every move; the wrong one would be catastrophic. 

PAIRING: Damon Albarn x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: I tried to combine a handful of requests, so if it's a little choppy...don't worry about it....fluff, cursing, lack of coherent plot because I a little bit gave up half way through, nothing crazy, etc.

A/N: Hello! I love this concept so much. It was meant to be an enemies to lovers, but my little fluff-filled heart couldn't do it. Please, please enjoy! (If you can't tell, I live for this gif lol)

“Loop it.”

The harmonies felt better. But after going through every note in your range, Damon still refused to settle. Sleep clung to your voice and became prominent when you tried to push through.

“Let’s do it again…” Damon pressed the signaling button for his voice to echo. You could see through the glass fatigue ruled him and fueled his obsession. “Try the C major–” He hesitated to commit to the note, but not when he had called your hotel room in the middle of the night. “—No. Try doing–

“I’m taking a break.”

The headphones disconnected before Damon could reprimand you. If you had to be inconvenienced, so would he. Silence followed you as you moved through his home. Damon’s eyes tracked your familiarity in his home. There was something, a feeling he couldn’t decipher about the authority you found in it.

You were no longer a guest, but you weren’t a friend. Despite knowing each other for years, you never quite graduated from the acquaintance level. Yet, there you were, sipping from the mug Damon had made himself as if you were his other half.

Your position normalized it. The industry, which you barely claimed space in, normalized things like this. There was plenty of musical history to account for late-night sessions or jams, but this felt intentional. Different.

“Where are the others?” You teased him knowingly. You were well aware of the rumored soft spot he had for you, but it was hard to believe what he expected of you.

“Still sleeping.” Damon was restless, focusing on the wasted time on hot water and honey. “They’ll catch up.” He attempted to reason with your glare. “We need to get back.”

You had gotten further than usual, half a mug’s worth, before he complained. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the tea to keep you up, but the warmth helped. So did the fact that there was a fresh stock of the brand you gravitated towards. He was expecting you.

“Just a minute longer.” You hummed, neck stretching to the left and right until it popped. “Sure you don’t want any?” Damon declined, settling with a yawn. “You’ll have to sleep at some point.”

“I will…” He sniffed with agitation. You annoyed him and crawled under his skin just to settle there. “...once we’re done.”

“We are done.” A breath of amused laughter flitted through your nose. “You’ll have to drag me back in there.” Damon looked at you as if actually entertaining the thought. Throwing him a coy gaze, you added, “I’d love to see you try.”

“I thought about it.” He cracked a smile, finally. Damon was uncharacteristically quiet during the session, suppressing his usual cheekiness.

Your expression softened, matching his, “I know.”

“Maybe I’ll scrap the song.” He finally caved, his anxieties surfacing. “B-sides or something.” His movements became his own, demeanor present again, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a mess.” You cleared your mug, the remaining tea cold and forgotten. “That what you want to hear?” You hummed for an answer. “Or that it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard?”

“Depends.” His smile remained present. “Does my ego need inflating?”

“God, no.”

Your breath of laughter was divine. Damon would listen to it on a loop if he could. These moments made it worthwhile. They were fleeting but brought a much-needed lightness to the night. Made the purpose of your presence just a little sweeter.

—

You’d come in with little layers, to begin with. Stumbling out of bed meant whatever was on your back would have to suffice for the day ahead. Yet, that hadn’t accounted for the switch of the air conditioning to accommodate the countless pieces of equipment used.

At night, things were different. You related to the solitude, the quietness making it easier to think. Yet, the buzz of a busy studio gave a unique rush to every meeting that helped immerse you in a world of collaboration.

“He kept you all night?” Jamie’s tone was teasing with the rhetorical question. It was obvious in how you looked—casually put together and gaze set on the goal of finishing—that you’d seen the sunrise.

You offered a simple smile, making it seem like you hadn’t minded. In reality, you hadn’t truly minded, but part of you resisted the game of cat and mouse.

“You’re allowed to say no.” Another breath of laughter. Jamie had a knack for using his humor for others' comfort, which you appreciated. Especially if it came to poking fun at Damon. “He does know what that means.”

“Keeps me occupied.” The excuse was rehearsed but not inaccurate, as you shrugged. “The extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

“God knows he’s got plenty to spare.”

Jamie looked at Damon. He was engrossed with his lyrics, scratching out words for others and shuffling the cue cards in different orders until they made sense for the singers who would soon spill in. A cigarette hung from his lips, the ash snowing down onto his work.

Damon mumbled against the butt to himself, taking a drag just to push it out through his nose. Something was appealing to the vice. Especially as you thought to reach out with your two fingers to capture your lips around the cigarette just to feel the heat of his lips.

“C’mere for a minute.”

There was a lag before you realized Damon had called out to you. There wasn’t a need for you yet; he would have to make something up soon to explain why you had to detach yourself from Jamie.

“The melodies sound good.” You crouched beside him, the compliment surprising not only him but yourself. “I heard you earlier…” You attempted to backtrack before the heat reached the tips of your ears. “...It’s shaping up nicely.”

“The lyrics are..." His sentence trailed off, morphing as he blew a raspberry. He couldn't quite shake the frustration of his unfinished song.

Goosebumps littered your skin as you reached across him for the marker in his hand. He knew you were cold since he avoided looking at how the swell of your breast peaked, looking for heat.

“Grammar’s a bit off.” You mumbled, adjusting the order of a few things. It was like a puzzle; the song's lyrics could be bent however you wanted but could only settle comfortably with a proper flow. “...Let's see how that sounds.”

You hummed the melody that had become your earworm. Damon matched it with the lyrics. The flow had changed with the slight adjustment as if mocking how it had taken days for him even to approach it.

“Yeah, that’s good…” Damon whispered to himself, to you. There was no reason to be surprised at your skill, but there was something that tickled him. “Good, let’s get the others.” He could feel the start of his rambling in his chest. “I mean, when everyone gets here…you can show them.”

“Somethings off with you…” Your eyebrows cinched together with premature amusement. “You don’t like it?”

Damon was hard-headed, never soft-spoken about his work and how he envisioned it. But he struggled to form his words the way he wanted with you.

“He’s upset that he didn’t come up with it himself. ” Jamie joined right as Damon went to thank you. “Now leave the girl alone; I don’t know how she’s not sick of you yet.”

—

As others filtered in, producing and recording, the smoke began to fill the room. Things began to come easy, things falling into place with more than a pair of eyes looking for a solution. Damon thrived in the environment. He personified the more, the merrier.

He would detach himself from one group just to mingle with those working in the opposite direction. He multitasked even when everyone decided to relax collectively, yourself included.

“All I’m saying is that the audience in Rio has this unmatched energy.”

They talked about the upcoming tour, regaling tales of part performances that couldn’t be matched. It had just been confirmed and announced to the anticipatory fans in capital cities globally.

“Toyko, hands down.” Another added. “ Plus, the food is well worth the travel.”

You traveled for work but only hopped from one studio to the next. Never had you performed in front of crowds as the rest had. They shared stories of the things thrown at them during peak performances and tales of drunken nights that were fuzzily being put together.

“Albarn, do you remember?” They called for him across the room. He had waited for the single invitation to be closer to you with the backing of an excuse. “In Montreal, how’d we get back to the hotel?”

Damon didn’t touch you, not yet, at least. The arm around the cushion of the sofa settled comfortably as he sat. His head lulled back and forth, giving attention to those he conversed with. But something about how he gravitated to your space made it seem like his undivided attention was yours.

You found it difficult to listen to shared stories you knew little about. But you liked the rumble you felt against your side when Damon fluttered with laughter. Each time, he would catch the goosebumps that spread across your arms. He figured you were cold, but you were worried that you were revealing yourself, and he only reveled in it. So you used the very excuse of being affected by the temperature to cover yourself.

You could have gone without asking, but your hand landed on his knee before you realized. “You have a jumper or something?”

His eyes lingered on your hand, which caught his attention. It was a smart move on your part, better than trying to call his name, knowing it would go out in one ear and out the other. Others continued around you, making nothing of the touch, but you rarely initiated something.

“On the chair.” Damon jutted his chin across the room where his sweatshirt had been scrapped.

Eyes were on you, watching your sock-clad feet pad carefully over the various wires that littered the floor. The sweatshirt was intentionally large on Damon, so it swam on you as you pulled it over your head.

A warm smell surrounded you that’s familiarity made something bloom in your chest. It wasn’t a far cry to admit Damon was attractive. Any star was. Something scratched at your chest, toyed with you. It taunted you to bring the fabric close and be consumed by it. But Damon’s eyes were fixated on your every move; the wrong one would be catastrophic.

Someone called your name, and your original spot was filled beside Damon. There was a yearning to return to that, probably the shared exhaustion of the day forefronting your thoughts.

—

Your eyes couldn’t help but drift throughout the session. It was becoming a hard habit to break. But for once, you were thankful, able to catch the tail end of Jamie and Damon’s tiff. They had their lovers quarrels, but they never remained quiet. They were never shy to be dramatic for everyone to hear and witness.

The studio glass was your barrier, but you had an inkling it was about you. Jamie was always an advocate for you, for everyone. He, although not always, could talk sense into his counterpart. You just wished he waited to do it when you weren’t there or when you could eavesdrop.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m—

“Nah, I’m tired of your excuses.” Jamie tutted, arms crossing with conviction. “You have a beautiful girl over in the middle of the night, and you make her work.” He shook his head as if it was the most despicable thing. “The only thing she should be doing is moaning–

“Fuck off.” Damon frowned at the crudeness. He’d mused the thought but never allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy. “It’s not like that, believe me.

“You’re letting me down.” Jamie continued, ready for the fight. “What happened to you?” He always tapped right on Damon’s pressure points. “You’ve gone soft, can’t even ask out a girl without falling apart.”

“Thanks, mate.” Damon threw a glare, still looking ahead. He caught your eye unintentionally. But his eyes flickered back to Jamie before the slim chance of being ashamed. “Go find something to do, I can’t babysit today.”

“You’re drawing it out,” Jamie said. “She’ll be gone when you finally fucking do something—

“I’ve invited her out tonight.”

The lie flew out fast. Damon had only heard through the whispers of others that you would think about going. Now, he gambled.

Jamie’s eyebrows twitched up, “With us?”

“Who else?”

A smirk pulled at the thought. Years passed, and your tendency to avoid social events began to precede you. “You bribed her to say yes, didn’t you?”

—-

“Refill?”

Damon watched your drink dwindle. Your ordered whatever everyone else was having, making it easy to blend in. It was his excuse to talk to you, which he found otherwise difficult.

The music was loud, thumping directly to drown out his voice. Yours carried beautifully as you laughed with the company. It felt like a strike every time Damon heard it. A reminder of the incompetence Jamie had reminded him of earlier.

“Hmm?”

The music covered Damon’s words. You leaned close to his neck; ear perked to hear him. He had caught you on the dance floor, where you swayed to the beat. On the off-beat, your shoulder brushed against his, a deliberate move on your part.

“Your drink…” He pointed to it this time. The strobing lights helped cover his stumble. “You want another?”

Damon looked good. Maybe it was the buzz around you allowing you to fall behind the veil of alcohol. It helped that people around you bumped the two of you closer. If he hadn’t been looking at you so intently for an answer, you’d be in his arms within a matter of minutes.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

The atmosphere of the club required commitment. But the bar offered a reprieve. You were lucky to have found a free stool that wobbled under your weight while Damon flagged down the bartender. You were sure some recognized him, but as he matured, the more privacy he maintained.

“Thought you would be a no-show.” The gin and tonic had a heavy pour, reflecting the overwhelmed workers and carelessness of the night. You sipped on its sweetness, patient for Damon’s response.

“So did I.” Ironically enough, you had approached Damon. You extended the invitation, lying through your teeth that the others had sent you to ask him. Relief flooded him. A shrug simplified Damon’s feelings. “Changed my mind.”

“Why?” You teased, looking at him with nothing but conviction. “You found out I was coming?”

“Something like that.” His lips twitched at the sentiment, arms encasing you as more bumped him toward you, “Jamie’s quite persistent.”

Your drinks dwindled, and more were ordered. The bubble you’d created was filled with wit, a banter that came naturally and held heavy sentiments. You had already memorized the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how his laughter started deep within his chest just to echo its way to you. But it never got old. Typically, you’d scold yourself for admiring him that way but indulged regardless. Damon was never subtle with how his gaze lingered, but you doubted subtly was his priority.

Especially as he broke eye contact with you just to wet his own lips, mirroring your gesture. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “You’ve got my attention.”

It seemed the best time to ask you when he had you in his grasp. There wouldn’t be a more appropriate time in his eyes. This was what he wanted most but never knew how to express. He wanted you near him, like this.

“Come on tour with me.”

[sephirthoughts]

I wish you would write a fic where... actually, I don't got anything weird. I've just been thinking about Rude/Sephiroth domestic fluff lately because I think Rude is probably a skilled cook and Sephiroth wants that normal life and he could wield a broom as well as he does Masamune. I don't have anyone to tell this to lol

HELLO THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! Alright, this is probably not exactly what you had in mind, but it is the madness that came from your ask, so if anything, it's all your fault. Enjoy! 😂

“What are you doing?” 

“Sweeping the floor.”

“You swept in here three times, today. You’re taking off the varnish.”

“I think this is vinyl.”

“¡Vete!”

Sephiroth pouted, but he knew better than to argue with Rude when he was speaking his native language and using a wooden spoon to point, so he retreated from the kitchen, broom in hand, to seek out another spot in the house that he hadn’t polished to a blinding shine, in the past few hours.

Maybe the upstairs closets? He wavered for a moment, then decided he may as well give the whole place an extra once-over. Better safe than sorry.

With his silver hair pulled up into a martial ponytail, and his weapon-calloused hands wielding a mop and feather duster like twin blades, he whirled through the living room, dining room, entryway, stairs, hallways, bedrooms, and all associated closets, in a blur, hellbent on eradicating even the tiniest molecule of intruding dust from his domain. 

A large, fluffy, white cat was impolitely awakened from a nap, during this maelstrom of domestic activity, and made her displeasure known by violently assailing the feather duster, from atop a bookshelf. Otherwise, the operation suffered no serious setbacks.

Thirty-three minutes later, Sephiroth had scooted the last of the area rugs back into place, and was standing back, imbibing deep satisfaction from his well-ordered house. Then his stomach let out a loud growl. 

Much like a member of a big-cat species, his ability to move at superhuman speeds demanded superhuman energy, and after the burst of activity, he was ravenously hungry.

It didn’t help that Rude was saturating the air in the house with the beguiling, come-hither aromas of meat and fat and spices, piquant and savory and ever so enticing, wafting from the kitchen to brush coquettishly against Sephiroth’s olfactory nerves.

Compelled by forces far stronger than himself, he slunk back into the kitchen, where he sidled up behind Rude and settled his hands on his hips, looking over his shoulder at the big, bubbling pot he was stirring. “What is all this? It smells wonderful.”

“Pozole, elotes, sopas, beans, rice, and tortillas,” Rude said, pointing at each pot, pan, and covered dish, respectively, as Sephiroth’s hands slid lower. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

The hands stopped where they were. “Who? Me?”

“Don’t you try that, ‘who me’ shit. You always turn into a slut when you want food. You and that cat, both.” 

The cat in question, who had, indeed, padded into the kitchen after Sephiroth, to see if any treats were to be gotten, plopped down on her ample haunches and set about having a bath, like she had no idea what they were talking about. 

By way of reply, Sephiroth nuzzled the hollow behind Rude’s ear and then bit down on his warm, tawny skin, just hard enough to dent it, but not actually leave a mark. 

“No biting,” Rude scolded. “Use your words.”

“Starving,” Sephiroth groaned, against his neck. “For real, this time. I’ve got mere seconds left to live.”

“Tch,” Rude smirked. “If you have energy to bitch, you’ll survive till dinner.”

“It’s too late. I’ve died,” Sephiroth intoned, slumping heavily against him. “Have me buried at sea.”

“Dinner will be ready in a minute. If you go set the table, we can start eating sooner.”

This incantation miraculously resurrected the recently deceased Sephiroth, who sprang back to life and hurried away, tripping over the cat in his haste.

“Damn it, Cloud, stop trying to kill me all the time,” he admonished the deeply offended furball, who’d already had her nap and her bath interrupted by this dubious character, and was now being picked up and kissed on the head, of all insufferable indignities.

“I can’t believe you named the cat Cloud,” Rude groused. 

Sephiroth was the picture of innocence. “What’s wrong with Cloud? I think it’s a good name.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. She’s white and fluffy, like a cloud.”

Rude arched an eyebrow. “Then explain why the dog is named Zack.”

“He’s named after the puppy I used to have, back in SOLDIER,” Sephiroth answered, with a completely straight face. 

Rude snorted out a laugh, which naturally meant Sephiroth had won the interaction. “Very funny. Go set the table, ass.”

Sephiroth put the fuming cat down and went to do as he was told. Just as the last fork was being set on the corresponding napkin, the front door banged open, and a voice announced, “Guess who’s here!”

Sephiroth cast a distasteful eye on the day-glow-red haired individual. “The Association for Homosexual Fashion Disasters.”

“You’re one to talk, Sephir-goth,” Reno retorted, taking the lollipop out of his mouth to gesture with it. “Are you seriously wearing leather pants and a band t-shirt to hang around the house?”

“These are the only pants I have, that are not currently in the wash,” Sephiroth answered, with a haughty toss of his head.

“Hey, wait a minute…that’s my shirt!” Reno accused. “It’s the tour edition you could only get at the shows! Take it off! You’re gonna ruin it!”

Sephiroth looked down at his shrink-wrapped torso. “Ah. I wondered why one of Rude’s shirts would fit me so tightly. Since he isn’t the size of a teenaged girl.”

“Look what you did! Your huge tits are stretching it all out! Mick Jagger’s face looks like it’s melting! Or…wow, that’s just how his face looks. Still, it’s mine! Give it back!”

“If you care about a clothing item, you shouldn’t leave it lying around in other people’s homes.” 

So saying, Sephiroth pulled the t-shirt off over his head, and held it out to Reno.

“What the—you can’t just—naked!” Reno sputtered, pointing the lollipop at him. “Rude! Your boyfriend is stripping in the living room!”

“Busy, take pictures,” Rude’s patently unconcerned voice called back, from the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth had snatched the shirt away, just as Reno reached for it, and was now holding it high above his head, while the much smaller man tried in vain to jump up and grab it.

“Why am I not surprised to find you two half-clothed and fighting, like a couple of children,” Tseng sighed, as he stepped in the front door, followed closely by Elena. 

“Leave it to me, sir! I’ll defuse the situation!” Elena declared, reaching for her sidearm.

Tseng held up a hand to stop her. “When has your interference ever defused a situation? And I told you on the way here, no guns in the house.”

“R—right, sir. Sorry, sir,” Elena said sheepishly, withdrawing her hand from the concealed holster. 

“Welcome, Tseng and…colleague,” said Sephiroth, who had his hand on Reno’s head and was still keeping the t-shirt away from him. “Please, make yourselves at home. Dinner is almost ready.”

“And colleague?” Elena pouted. “Do you even know my name?”

“How rude of me. Of course I do. You are…uh…Cissnei?”

“No, I’m—” She broke off and her shoulders slumped dejectedly, as Reno nearly expired laughing. “Ugh, forget it. Enjoy your dinner, everyone. I’ll just wait in the car.” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tseng announced, in that calm, paternal tone, that made people instinctively want to obey him. “Reno, shut up. Elena, sit down. Sephiroth, give Reno his shirt and go put one on. Now.”

Looking like chastised school children, Reno stifled his laughter, Elena went and sat down on the sofa, and Sephiroth relinquished the shirt before vanishing upstairs. 

“Hey, at least wash it first! I don’t want your stink all over it!” Reno shouted after him. Then he sniffed the shirt and his expression changed. “What the fuck, this is what you smell like?! What is that, cedar and sagebrush? And…rain? Elena, smell this!”

“Gross, I’m not sniffing some guy’s—oh, holy shit that smells amazing! He should bottle this and sell it!”

“Keep that thing away from me,” Tseng warned, as Reno brandished the rumpled t-shirt and advanced upon him. “I already know how wonderful Sephiroth smells, I don’t need a cat-hair covered reminder.”

“Oh, there is cat hair all over it. Damn it, it got on my suit.”

At that moment, Rude stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel. “Dinner. If you’re all finished sniffing my boyfriend’s dirty clothes, that is.”

“If I could just—one more. Yes, all done,” Elena said, letting go of the t-shirt, which Reno was forcefully tugging away from her. 

“The food smells great, too, partner!” Reno grinned, which expression collapsed back into a scowl, as Sephiroth reappeared, wearing the exact same t-shirt as before, only several sizes larger. “If you had Rude’s the whole time, why were you wearing mine?!”

“I just found it, now. You whine a lot, for an adult man. Are you certain you’re not a teenaged girl?”

“Wow,” said petite Elena, whose head wasn’t even level with the huge former SOLDIER’s spectacular pectorals. “I’ve never seen you with a shirt on, general. You look really nice.”

Sephiroth smiled. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Cissnei.” 

“I’m not—ugh, whatever. You’re welcome. Let’s eat.”

[everettswritings]

I simp for a lot of cookies....got a whole list of cookies I simp for that I'd totally let destroy me tickle wise since I'm a big lee so you'll see me send in ler!cookie requests often...infact, i was the one who sent in those ler!Shadow milk requests! Hehe....so if you want you can call me teddy anon!

Anyway....can I have ler!Clotted cream and lee!y/n? Like Clotted cream loves to just unwind after stressful council meetings and talking to his dad by tickling the hell out of y/n?

Bonus if ya wanna add this in: cuteness aggression loving to help relieve more stress...like channeling that into affection for y/n! Like a lot of kisses and maybe...aggressive compliments like 'God you're so freaking cute, I love you so freaking much-' and stuff like that lol! Also, if ya wanna add this on too...it also channels into Clotted cream tickling y/n until they A. Go crazy or B. Are so weak, they just lay there as Clotted cream nuzzles, cuddles, and kisses them lol!

FINALLY A CLOTTED CREAM REQUEST, HE’S ONE OF MY FAVES BUT I’VE NEVER GOTTEN TO WRITE ABOUT HIM, THANK YOU! (NSFW/Kink accounts DNI!)

Clotted Cream Cookie, elected consul of the Crème Republic! It was a name everyone in the Republic knew, even those who lived in the lower cities were familiar with the young man and his feats. However, despite outside appearances, the consul was almost constantly exhausted and/or stressed. How did you know this? You were his partner, of course. You knew things about him that the rest of the Republic, and even the Venerable Elders, knew nothing about. Including one interesting he did to relieve his stresses… tickling.

Clotted Cream Cookie breathed a heavy sigh as he entered his room, tossing his coat onto a nearby surface lazily. Where were you? He needed you. “Oh, darling!” He called, you entered- even though you knew exactly what those words meant- “Yes, love?” You asked innocently, he gestured for you to put your arms up. You put your arms up, “Bad day?” You inquired, he nodded, and he walked up to you. Like lightning he struck, quickly knocking you onto the bed and tickling you like crazy without much warning.

“HAHAHAHA! Hahahahahaha! Y-You could’ve gihihihiven me a warning! Hahahaha!” You said, causing the consul to double his efforts, “Hm… Yes, but I find it more fun this way.” He grinned suavely. His gentle hands danced across your ribs and sides, digging into your skin. You laughed more and more, your face starting to grow warm and rosy, which of course Clotted Cream Cookie had to point out! “Darling, have I ever told you that you have the sweetest face?” He cooed “You’re so cute!” He went on, hardly able to contain his urge to smother you with affections. You were too busy laughing to see this. You were too busy laughing to see or think anything.

He started to prod at more areas, going from ribs and sides to armpits and hips. Then he started to go from armpits and hips to neck and knees, then further so. At this point your whole body was under siege, while you were helpless beyond what should be possible. “Hahahahahaha! Ahahahaha! Aha! AHAHAHAHA!” You couldn’t even form words anymore, and Clotted Cream Cookie smirked at this, “Oh? Is that right, dear? Goodness, I just love you to much!” He planted a kiss on your cheek and continued his ticklish pursuit. This pursuit went on for at least half an hour until you were flushed, and just as exhausted as he once was.

The consul booped your nose and snuggled right next to you, “So cute, so sweet; how was I ever lucky enough to claim you? It’s a mystery, darling!” He kissed your cheek once more “Divine Light… I love you so much.” He wrapped his arms around your waist. You replied breathlessly: “Love you too…”.

A few hours passed after that and Clotted Cream Cookie had to excuse himself for his never ending duties, but that wouldn’t stop you two from seeing one another again. While you were tending to work of your own, you heard that damned phrase again “Oh, darling!”.

Imagine having someone who tickles you regularly, couldn’t be me. *cries* Anyways, hope you enjoyed. That’s all, have a good one 🫶

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

I love reading your Percy Jackson smut! If you are off of your hiatus, I would like to request a Percy smut where you are a daughter of Venus and flirting with Percy while fighting and having hate-sex after? Please and thank you.

pairing: percy jackson (18+) x fem!reader (daughter of venus!reader)

warnings: smut → oral (fem receiving), teasing - lots of teasing!, spanking, rough sex.

word count: 1.2k - might've gotten carried away with this one lol

a/n: I've set this at camp half-blood (but they're 18+) if that's okay!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests for the sleepover are open🖤!

request guidelines here✨!

smut night masterlist

🌻masterlist🌻

"what's the matter, Perseus? Cat got your tongue?" You tease, swinging your sword toward his side.

"ha-ha. funny," he rolls his eyes. It was only last week when a stray cat managed to get through the sealed protection of the camp and attacked percy when he tried to pat it. "I suppose that's better than being defeated by Mr. D," he snickers back, cocking up an eyebrow in amusement.

With all your might, you swung your sword at his legs, completely wiping him off his feet with a big thud.

"See, if only you had that energy when you fought him," percy chuckles as you roll your eyes, refusing to respond to his stupid comments. "ah I see. Looks like the cat got your tongue."

By dinner, you sat at your respective table while percy sat at his. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time. Every fibre in your being fought the urge to tackle him on the ground and throw a few punches at his stupid seaweed head, but you managed to chew down your dinner and stay in your seat.

By lights out, a small knock is placed on your door. Thinking it might be Mr. D or Chiron, you answer it with a smile on yourself, only to have it wiped straight off when you saw percy standing before you.

"what?" you practically spat.

"though you might want this," he hands you your sword which you left at the training grounds.

"What, are you so desperate to see me, you had to give this to me now?" you arch an eyebrow at him.

"nah, just thought I'd give it back so you're at least ready when i beat your ass in training again tomorrow."

"okay, well then bye." You try to close the door, but his foot wedged itself between it. A moment passes by of just you and him staring immensely at each other. Without thinking, he leans in and kisses you on your soft lips. You're surprised to say the least. Percy Jackson, the boy you despised since day 1, is kissing you. Gods, he's a good kisser too.

"perseus jackson if you don't step in here right now, I will-" you mumble against his lips, only to be cut off as he kisses you harder, pushing into your cabin. Being the only child Venus's still left at Camp Half-Blood, you didn't have to worry about anyone else being in the cabin in a moment like this.

Percy backs you towards your bed, your knees bucking when you hit the bed-frame. Holding him tight, you bring him down with you - neither of you stopping the attack on each other's lips.

"you know i hate you right?" percy mumbles, trailing his kisses down your jaw to your neck, nibbling softly at your mellow and heated skin.

"right back at you," you breathe, tangling your fingers through his hair, not wanting him to stop - not wanting him to ever stop. "just can't stand you. 'Hero of the camp', just give me a break already."

percy chuckles against your neck, his fingers toying with the hem of your sweatpants. Desperately, you buck your knock against his, gasping quietly as his hand slips inside the fabric of your underwear.

"and here i though you'd never be wet for me, but here we are," Percy's ego is thick in his voice. His fingers graze along your folds, eyes boring into you while he watches your ever move. He wants to to succumb to him, to be at his mercy. You wanted him, you knew that very well - but were you willing to give up to submission that easily?

Percy's finger draws the sweetest figure 8's on your clit, you bottom lip drawing into your teeth to suppress a moan. You hadn't even realised how far your legs had spread. How your hips moved along with his movements.

"that's it, darling. Just relax for me, yeah. I've got you," he coos, kissing your lips gently before pulling his hand out. Unconsciously, you let out a whine. Lifting your shirt over your head, percy kisses each breast before trailing down to your stomach, over your hips and to the waistband of your sweatpants. He pulls at them, looking up at you as he drags them down your legs.

"are you finished with the teasing, or shall i just kick you out and get myself off?" you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

"but you know your hand will never be as good as me." And with that, his tongue licks a stripe up your folds, flicking fast at your clit. Your hands tangle in his hair, and the sweetest sounding moans slip from you.

His tongue feels so good. His mouth feels so good. So good, it makes you want to-

"ah ah, no cumming, gorgeous girl," percy sits back on his knees. His hair is completely dishevelled and you swear he's never looked this good. With a huff, you fold your arms over your chest. If you weren't even allowed to cum, then what was the point of letting him in you cabin?

Percy chuckles at your childish attitude, he circles his finger around, signalling for you to get on all fours. With another huff, accompanied by a roll of your eyes, you turn around. Behind you, you hear percy undressing himself, and you can't help but turn to look at him. But really look at him. You eyes almost melt in awe from how gorgeous he is. All your time spent here, aside from actually training and going on quests, was spent hating percy. Not once have you ever really appreciated him - especially the way he looks. He's quite handsome, actually: sea green eyes, jet black hair, captivating body.

"enjoy the view a bit much there, hey?" percy chuckles as he catches your eye.

"nope. just wanting for you to hurry up," of course you weren't going to admit that you were most definitely checking him out. he'd never let you live it down.

His hands caress your hips, his stomach pressing against your back as he leans over.

"ready?" he purrs in your ear, causing you to let out a moan. Slowly, he pushes in, both of you gasping from the pleasure. He doesn't wait long before thrusting harder into you, wanting you to moan louder for him to give you more.

And that you did. You moan, and moan, and moan. Each thrust feels so good, his cock hit all the right places. He speeds up, holding your hips harder, enjoying the sounds of your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"fuck, oh my -" you cut yourself by a yelp as Percy's hand slaps your ass hard. He slaps again, and again. A smirk plastering on his face when he sees the visible marks of his hands. He knows you like it - the way your hand twists so tightly in the sheets, yelping and almost squealing in pleasure.

Your arms give out, and you gently lay your front on the mattress. Percy stops his movements, hands caressing and kneading your ass.

"percy?" you call out, too fucked out to really look at him. He chuckles in response, not daring to move. With a roll of your eyes, you lift yourself back up again, rocking your hips against his.

"that's it. such a good girl for me," percy praises, leaning over and pushing your hair to the side to kiss the side of your neck. "who's the desperate one now?"

[thotsforvillainrights]

Do you have any soft stain headcanons👉👈? i love your writing sm 💜💜💜

(Thank you! It feels like a million years since I’ve gotten to do something for him! I wanted there to be a theme for it so I made something up, hope you don’t mind! If it doesn’t fit what you need then please let me know so I can redo it!)

~The Stand~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up  

-He grumbled the entire way there and back. He grumbled when he hid away in the back room as the delivery men dropped your order off in the house. He grumbled when you called him into the living room and he saw the large box. Chizome was not pleased with the recent purchase. “I don’t see why we need something as pointless as this. The other stand works just fine.” He pointed at the rickety TV stand in the living room. The paint was peeling off of it, one of the glass doors were shattered to pieces, the other door hung off of it lopsided and never able to fully close. The legs were old and if you just looked at the damn thing wrong then you were sure it would crumble to pieces. “Chizome please...would you rather I’d purchased the new stand here or a new TV when that one falls apart?” You stared at him and he began his grumbling again, knowing he was in the wrong.

-He was usually the one in line for the finances since he didn’t have a job, he contributed to the house by keeping track of things for you. (You should see him during tax season sitting at the kitchen table with reading glasses and typing on a calculator lol) While he wanted to complain over the cost of the stand, he knew it was better than buying a new TV instead. However, not came the point and time where he had to help put it together.

-It was a disaster.

-The two of you tended to butt heads over various things before but never like you did when it came time to put together furniture or go shopping for furniture. This was a real test to the relationship. The mess ups and reading the confusing directions wasn’t helping with anything either. By the time you two made it through to the 4th step, you’d had a huge argument to which you stormed off into the other room and slammed the door. He sat by himself on the floor and listened to the words replaying his his head as him tried to calm down. Sometimes you made him so mad that he wanted to throw away all your favorite snacks in the kitchen to retaliate against you. Instead he was learning to gather himself after fights since he didn’t want to ever risk the possibility of losing you. Once calmed down, he took a second look at the directions and started building the stand once again. He worked quietly and quickly until everything was done perfectly. He set up the new stand and chucked the old one to the alleyway when he was sure it was dark enough for him to go out and not be recognized. Finally he went to find you curled up in the blankets and still sniffling from having cried over him...just because of him.

-He sighed and rubbed the back of his head and you watched him from your spot in the bundled blanket mess. Finally you spoke up. “What do you want? To yell at me some more for making a simple mistake?” There was pain behind that smartass remark. He could tell. Chizome sighed again and made his way to the bed to sit beside you. He tentatively raised a shaky hand and began stroking the top of your head while keeping his eyes trained on you. “Sorry...I can be a bit of a dick sometimes I know. I’m still new with all of this and sometimes to be honest, you drive me crazy. You always know how to get right under my skin but I’d rather have you than be lonely. I mean...shit well...I ain’t good at what I’m trying to say but-” You quickly sit up and shush him. “It’s alright. I get it.” You smile and he returns it with a gentle (rare) smile of his own. For a minute the two of you stay like this, staring into each other’s eyes while his touch hasn’t left your skin yet. He suddenly pulls you tightly into his chest and kisses you lightly on the neck. “I love Y/N, I really do. I hate saying it but it’s nothing further from the truth. This isn’t my thing but I make exceptions for you.” He teased and you rolled your eyes. “I love you too.”

[soulwillower]

semi-charming •  bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested:  Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :)    +      AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH     +     don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh  !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au, 

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional. 

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that. 

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake. 

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise. 

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door. 

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes. 

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. 

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music." 

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off." 

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. 

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding. 

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give. 

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in." 

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it. 

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him. 

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?" 

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms. 

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?" 

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person. 

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst. 

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg. 

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall. 

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!" 

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him. 

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either. 

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts. 

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet. 

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack." 

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf. 

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot. 

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you. 

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip. 

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane.  "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly. 

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth. 

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away. 

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid. 

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh. 

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from. 

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done." 

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated." 

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly. 

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are,  i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk. 

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out. 

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you. 

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you. 

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own.  "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving? 

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants. 

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes. 

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down. 

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate. 

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once. 

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure. 

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?" 

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock. 

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back. 

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly. 

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan. 

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums. 

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out. 

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce. 

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building. 

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours. 

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

 "you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to. 

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. 

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple. 

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours. 

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close. 

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters. 

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall. 

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous. 

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease. 

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew

[krappykawa]

fake dating headcanons with atsumu, oikawa, and kuroo

ANON ASKED: “hi i really like your writing 🥺🥺 could i request fake dating with atsumu, oikawa, and kuroo? like they told their teams that they have a girlfriend but they dont lmao so they ask one of their classmates to pretend to be their gf so the team can meet her? and they end up falling for her along the way :)) i look forward to reading more of ur works!! 💖”

atsumu x f!reader, oikawa x f!reader, kuroo x f!reader

genre. fluff

warnings. language

word count. 6.3k

note. DAMN this one got away from me ... 6.3k words for a headcanon post ...... sorry anon i’m not sure if you wanted a long post but i mean, here we are lol 

note 2. had to repost because something was up with the tags lol i hope it works fine this time

ATSUMU.

- the team has a favorite twin and it’s osamu, we all know it

- one day after practice, the team finds out that one of the first-years managed to get a girlfriend

- most of the inarizaki vb team is single at that point in time so it starts a conversation about relationships

- somewhere in the conversation, aran says, “osamu, man. I can’t believe ya haven’t gotten a girlfriend yet. yer easily one of the best-looking people in the school.”

- osamu just shrugs, but atsumu’s like “huh??”

- “hey ‘samu and i have the same face. don’t cha mean that we’re some of the best-looking people in the school??”

- the guys in the locker room exchange glances

- aran‘s like “look, atsumu. don’t blow up on me or anything, but most girls don’t really want to date you.” (keep in mind that aran’s strictly speaking about the girls that aren’t a part of the miya twins fan club)

- “and why the hell not?”

- at this point, aran’s looking at literally everyone in the room and pleading with his eyes for help because he doesn’t want to start a fight with atsumu

- suna takes pity on aran and says, “hate to break it you, miya, but girls don’t want to date a guy who’s a massive asshole”

- now, atsumu could care less if the entire goddamn world thinks he’s an asshole, but it rubs him the wrong way that his teammates think that osamu’s a better catch than he is

- sibling rivalry pride or whatever

- so atsumu goes “i think my girlfriend would disagree because oh will ya look at that, she’s dating me!”

- he was most definitely not dating anyone

- osamu raises an eyebrow at him because to his knowledge, atsumu didn’t have a girlfriend

- “since when did you have a girlfriend?”

- osamu looks at atsumu with knowing eyes and smirks. “yeah sumu, who’s this girlfriend of yours? I don’t think i’ve met her yet.”

- atsumu knows he’s gotten himself in some deep shit

- but still he’s still full of pride, so he says, “i’ll bring her by to practice tomorrow.”

- now miya atsumu has a dilemma because there are some things he just shouldn’t lie about (because now he’ll never live it down if he can’t figure out a way to get himself out of this one)

- atsumu knows that he’s got that fanclub that would probably be more than willing to date him, but the thought of being in their presence for longer than two seconds makes his skin crawl because he doesn’t think he could handle the excessive screaming

- so that night he decides to go to the bakery down the street that he frequents because they have some of the best macarons in town

- you’re one of the bakers at that bakery that works the shift when he usually comes in for his weekly macarons so you two are acquainted

- you also go to inarizaki, so you hear the rumors that circulate around atsumu, but you don’t really pay much attention to them because he’s not that bad whenever he comes into the bakery

- like sometimes if he tries to only order 2 macarons but notices that there are only 5 macarons left, he’ll buy them all just to make your life easier

- when he comes in that day, he has this troubled look on his face. “hey y/n. can i just have my usual? oh and an iced matcha.”

- you like to keep tabs on your regulars and what they order, so when he orders an iced matcha, you know that something’s probably up (he never orders drinks from there because he said that his brother would kill him if he didn’t bring him home a drink too and having to carry the two drinks up to their apartment is hassle enough)

- you’re in the middle of making his drink when you decide to ask him what’s up “everything alright?”

- it’s almost time to close up and you two are the only two left so you figured you had time for small talk

- “i may have outright lied to my team about havin’ a girlfriend.”

- “you don’t?” that surprises you because so many girls at your school have a crush on the miya twins (you would know because your best friend is practically in love with osamu)

- when atsumu shakes his head dejectedly, you don’t quite understand what he’s so down for

- “you do know that there are like 50 girls that are practically lining up to date you right?”

- “yeah, but they’d expect a real relationship and i’m no good at those.”

- “why not?”

- “i’m too argumentative, let's just say, plus i’ve been told that i kinda come off as an asshole.”

- “and volleyball right?” you would know since he always comes into the bakery after a practice and he looks like he’s both dead and alive

- when you hand him his matcha and packet of macarons, he pauses

- “listen, don’t take this the wrong way but yer single right?”

- you almost smile to yourself because wow for a guy so attractive, his way with words isn’t great

- “i am.”

- he stands there for a good 20 seconds just looking at you with that look in his eyes that tells you that he’s trying to ask you something but he doesn’t know how to do it

- “you want me to act as your fake girlfriend don’t you?”

- cue atsumu chuckle @%EUTYDJBCJWER)*&# hhhhfs

- “ya know, i’m kinda seein’ why i get called an asshole all the time. it doesn’t sound as great when ya’ say it like that.”

- you agree to pretend to be his girlfriend, but on the condition that your best friend will be able to tag along if osamu’s gonna be there

- and that’s the start of it

- you visit his practice the next day before work and his team looks at you in surprise because they were 100% sure that having a girlfriend was just another one of atsumu’s lies

- they all kinda stare at you a little extra too because you’re really pretty

- “aye, get yer asses back to volleyball and stop starin’ at my girl like that.”

- you know it’s all fake, but him saying that kinda makes you blush anyways

- when you first agreed to fake dating him, you weren’t expecting that you’d have to spend too much time with him (he did tell you that he wasn’t looking for a real relationship) but that changes because osamu’s insistent that atsumu should at least try to be a good boyfriend and eat lunch with you and stuff

- you’re both aware that osamu doesn’t buy your little arrangement one bit

- atsumu’s got this raging pride when it comes to his twin brother, so he actually listens because now he’s made it his personal mission to convince osamu that you and him are actually dating

- it takes a while for you two to get into the hang of it, but once you do, it’s like a regular routine

- you and your best friend eat lunch with the twins (you and atsumu both watch as your best friend fumbles her way into talking with osamu), you drop by before work to give atsumu a kiss on the cheek before practice, he drops by the bakery after practice nearly everyday, and you come to his games while wearing a jersey that he lent you

- his teammates like you a lot and tease atsumu all the time because they claim that you’re way too good for him

- surprisingly, he always gets a little protective when they say things like that and always slips an arm around your waist

- one day when you’re over at his apartment, you help atsumu learn how to make macarons (with some help from osamu)

- it takes a while because he would get mad at the macarons when they would come out in weird shapes

- “stupid macarons! they got it out for me i’m tellin’ ya! they’re being like that on purpose!”

- LITERALLY A CHILD

- you learn to like that about him though

- dates with him are usually on the weekends (you both drag osamu and your best friend out with you) and it’s always something fun that osamu suggests because atsumu wasn’t joking when he said he sucks at real relationships

- most of these dates consist of holding hands as you walk around the streets until osamu sees a restaurant he wants to try out

- he always insists on feeding you at least once in your meal

- he also loves doing the walrus-chopsticks face?? (he only started doing it because he liked hearing you laugh)

- as time passes, you two start going on dates without osamu and your best friend (atsumu always claims that it’s because he wants to show osamu up, but you start to notice that osamu doesn’t even find out about these dates most of the time)

- you secretly like these dates better than those with osamu and your best friend because atsumu feels more at ease and will develop a softer tone around you during these dates

- eventually, he starts to always greet you with a forehead kiss whenever you’re in public (you’re not sure if he does it just because his brother is watching, or if maybe he might be starting to like you)

- you try to make your brain forget that most of the time, he kisses your forehead before osamu even walks in

- one day after practice, you’re waiting for him because you didn’t have a shift at the bakery that day

- he walks out of the club room looking mildly pissed and you’re a little wary

- but then he gets to where you’re standing and just pulls your waist towards him and full on kisses you

- mind you, this is your first kiss on the lips with him

- it’s not a quick peck either, like you can hear the wolf whistles from his teammates in the back and you’re left breathing hard and flushed pink afterwards

- damn if that’s what his kisses are like, you suddenly wish he’d do it more often

- “what was that for?”

- “nothin’”

- sometime in the future you find out that he did that because his teammates were once again talking about your relationship and one of them joked that atsumu paid you to pretend to be his girlfriend

- he knew that what you had wasn’t necessarily real, but he just had the urge to kiss you then (he swears to you that he doesn’t know why)

- he does know why. it was because it was starting to slip his mind that your relationship was fake and the reminder made him a little mad at himself

- he realizes that maybe he’s fallen in love with you when osamu brings it up

- atsumu had asked for osamu’s help because he wanted to surprise you by making you mochis for your upcoming four month anniversary of being his fake girlfriend (typing this out was so funny, this man is so whipped he doesn’t know it)

- “ya know, when i first met y/n, i was sure that it was all fake and that you’d slip up about it one day. i guess i was wrong.”

- atsumu doesn’t say anything to that because in his head he’s trying to convince himself that “no. this is all still fake.” but it’s hard to convince himself of that when his hands are covered in the rice flower that he’s using to make your favorite dessert for your four months of faking being together

- he tries not to think about what osamu said when he gives you the gifts later that night

- he tries not to think about it when he gets that funny feeling that he’s been feeling for a while now when he sees the way you light up upon opening the box of mochis

- he most definitely tries not to think about it when you accidentally give him your second kiss of the relationship because you were caught up in the spur of the moment

- it’s on the way home back to his apartment that night that he realizes he’s fucked

- because good god he’s fallen for you

- he tries to break it off after that

- you’re confused at how sudden it is, but you let him break it off because at that point you’re already in love with him and are still too scared to say it because you keep remembering how he always said that he didn’t want a real relationship

- IDIOTS IN LOVE YOU'RE BOTH SO .

- he tries to go back to normal after that

- but for the love of everything he just . can’t

- his eyes always linger a little too long on the door right before practice because you would always come see him before going to work

- his feet would instinctively move in the direction of the bakery after practices until he realizes what he’s doing and forces himself to go home

- his eyes would scan for your figure wearing his jersey during games until he remembers that you probably weren’t there and that you most definitely wouldn’t be wearing his jersey

- he wants to kick himself because the reason he asked you to be his fake girlfriend in the first place was because he didn’t want a real relationship

- yet here he was. wallowing because if there’s anything more he wants, it’s a real relationship with you

- osamu gets fed up with him eventually

- “take yer ass to the bakery right after practice. i’m not letting you into the apartment until you see her.”

- and surprisingly, he actually listens to his twin brother

- he walks into the bakery for the first time in a while and says “hey y/n. can i just have my usual? oh and an iced matcha.”

- you look up at him then because you vividly remember that night. how could you not?

- you’re in the middle of making his drink when you decide to ask him what’s up “everything alright?”

- “i may have outright lied to myself about loving you.”

- you nearly drop the drink in your hands

- “‘tsumu? what are you on about?”

- “i know i said that i’m no good at real relationships. but i’ve found that i want to learn to be good.”

- a pause

- “i want to learn with ya.”

OIKAWA.

- this poor boy is always the butt of the jokes that come from his team

- seriously though. it’s always “tease oikawa day” (he teases them back so it’s all good)

- but one day, they’re all in the locker room when hanamaki brings up this girl that he’s planning on asking out because he’s not sure how to do it

- oikawa, being the little shit that he is, goes “step one, makki. have my face. step two, have my amazing personality. step three, ask her out.”

- he barely ducks in time to miss the shoe that comes flying towards his head

- “makki! such unbecoming behavior! my advice is perfect!”

- matsukawa snorts and says “perfect advice my ass. you can’t even get anyone to like you. let alone go out with you, crappykawa.”

- “don’t spread lies, mattsun.” oikawa clicks his tongue like a mother scolding his child. “or do you seem to forget the dozens of confessions i get on the daily along with the girls that you three complain about all the time because ugh shittykawa’s gonna make us late if he keeps talking to them” (he’s so dramatic lol he says that last part in this weird, whiny voice)

- iwaizumi scoffs. “doesn’t count when you reject every single one.”

- “i do not!”

- “right. right. as if you don’t make them cry because you’re so nice about rejecting them too.” (oikawa frowns at that one because he doesn’t mean to make them cry)

- “yeah, shittykawa, you’re pretty bad at love in general. i’d die before listening to your advice.” (this one is from matsukawa)

- “there’s also the fact that the girlfriend’s you did have all broke up with you because you would rather cuddle with a volleyball than cuddle with them.” (this one is from hanamaki)

- oikawa scowls at them “i don’t cuddle my volleyball.”

- “sure you don’t. just like you most definitely don’t have a name for it either.”

- “leave iwa-chan the second out of this!” (he drew an angry face on his volleyball too because he claims it looks like iwaizumi)

- iwaizumi groans. “i hate you. so so much.”

- at this point, oikawa knows they’re right, but he’s also really prideful. “and besides. i would suggest taking my advice because i got a girlfriend just today!”

- he most definitely did not

- “sure you did. hey mattsun, i bet a week tops until she breaks up with him.”

- “nah i’ll bet five days.”

- after practice, oikawa came up with a plan for the next day to get himself out of the hole he dug for himself

- he usually got confessions before school, so he told iwaizumi that he was going to school early to practice and instead waited for a girl to confess to him

- but the moment he saw this second-year walk up to him with a little box, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it

- he couldn’t do that to this innocent girl

- and he tries to say yes to her. he really does.

- but he can practically hear his older sister’s voice yelling at him about how “even when you get popular and get confessions from people left and right, i don’t want you leading anyone on. you only accept a confession if you actually like them.”

- he’s probably more scared of his sister than he is of his own mother, so he says no to that second-year, even when she starts to frown and walk away

- he’s leaning against the gym and rubbing the bridge of his nose when he hears you

- “everything alright?”

- you two were pretty close because he found out that you had a crush on iwaizumi in your second year and tried to set you two up (it didn’t work because he’s pretty bad at being a wingman)

- even when iwaizumi rejected you, oikawa had already grown to like your presence, so you two stayed friends despite how his best friend broke your heart

- “y/n-chan! what are you doing here so early?”

- “just returning a book to the library before the librarian knocks down my door and kicks my ass for having an overdue library book. what are you doing here so early?”

- “would you believe me if i said that i was practicing volleyball?”

- you look him up and down, and the smell of fresh cologne reaches your nostrils. his uniform is neatly put together.

- “looking like that? no, no i would not.”

- “well, what would you believe?”

- “i don’t know .. the truth maybe?”

- “the truth is embarrassing and is defamation to my good name.” that makes you raise your brow at him.

- “okay now i only want to hear the truth. i will not accept anything but the truth. now tell me, what kind of embarrassment have you proved yourself to be this morning?”

- “so mean, y/n-chan! now i see why you so very adored our precious iwa-chan.”

- you groan because you don’t want to remember that rejection. “oh just hurry up and embarrass yourself instead of embarrassing me.”

- “but it’s quite embarrassing.”

- “come on, spit it out.”

- “i may or may not have told iwa-chan, makki, and mattsun that i have a girlfriend when i don’t have one.”

- you look at him like he’s the dumbest person you’ve ever met, because at that moment, you really believed that he was. “couldn’t you just … i don’t know … accept one of your many, many confessions?”

- oikawa tells you about his fear of his sister and the second-year that just confessed to him

- you find yourself admiring his sister because she’s probably the one person on this planet that can humble oikawa tooru (the next person to be able to do so will be you, but you don’t know that yet)

- after hearing his explanation you get an idea. “can’t you ask someone to fake being in a relationship with you? you know, so you don’t get the angry sister devil/angel thing on your shoulder?” (LOL if you don’t get what the angel/devil thing that i’m talking about is, it’s like when you have an imaginary angel and a devil that sits on your shoulders and criticizes every choice you make)

- “are you offering, y/n?” he has that shit-eating grin on his face again, so you know he’s mostly joking

- “hmm, i don’t know. i think you’ll have to formally ask me to be your fake girlfriend. it’s only polite after all.”

- oikawa blinks for a second because he didn’t actually think you were serious. “what?”

- “are you going to ask me to be your fake girlfriend or not? maybe throw in a flower and i’ll say yes.”

- oh. oh.

- well, he wasn’t going to let what might be his only opportunity to get someone to fake date him pass by

- he looks around and sees a small flower on the ground and picks it

- he takes both your hands and puts the flower in one of them before saying, “y/n-chan will you, take me, oikawa tooru, as your loving pretend boyfriend, and save me from irrevocable embarrassment?”

- you laugh in his face because he’s trying so hard not to laugh through his “proposal.”

- “minus points for not getting on one knee but i guess i do.”

- you mainly did it because you may have already gotten rejected by iwaizumi, but you did like the possibility of being friends with him, and fake dating oikawa would probably let you do that

- you also kind of felt bad for oikawa, knowing that he wasn’t exaggerating how embarrassing it would be if his teammates found out he was lying

- when you and oikawa walk up to the seijoh third-years while holding hands, makki and mattsun are jostling each other while iwaizumi looks mildly surprised

- “see matsun! pay up!”

- oikawa and you both look in surprise as mattsun reluctantly shoves a few bills into makki’s awaiting hand

- oikawa’s looking between them both. “what bet did you use me for this time?”

- “i bet mattsun that you and y/n secretly liked each other.”

- blink blink

- iwaizumi sees the mildly awkward situation brewing so he says, “anyways, y/n if you ever get tired of this dumbass, you’re more than welcome into our group. we’ll just kick oikawa out.”

- after that, you and oikawa fall into a dating routine easily (you have a pretty busy schedule too so both you and oikawa understand each other schedules well)

- usually this is where oikawa’s relationships fail. he spends so much time with volleyball and the team that he doesn’t really spend time with his significant others

- it’s different with you though. maybe it’s the fact that the stakes aren’t so high because it’s only a fake relationship after all, or maybe it’s because unlike his past significant others, you don’t mind spending most of your time and “dates” with the other seijoh third-years, or maybe it’s because he remembers that locker room conversation and he wants to prove to makki, mattsun, and iwaizumi that he can be a good boyfriend (even if it’s a good fake boyfriend)

- dates with oikawa are usually laid-back because he’s tired from practice (so like walks in the park, getting ice cream, or study dates where you don’t get much done because you spend most of it just laughing and cooking in his kitchen)

- you find that he’s secretly a decent cook (the only thing keeping from saying that he’s a good cook is because he can’t cut vegetables for his life, and he also managed to accidently burn the onions you were trying to caramelize).

- neither of you acknowledge the fact that since nobody’s there to see those dates, you two technically don’t have to go on them since it’s only a fake relationship

- oh and takeru LOVES you

- seriously. he thinks you’re probably the coolest person ever (he tells you one day that he thinks you’re even cooler than oikawa and oikawa is a pouting mess the rest of your day. you can only pull him out of his slump when you jump on his back and force him to run to the bakery and buy milk bread)

- sometimes you’ll come with oikawa when he needs to watch takeru

- as takeru teaches you how to receive a volleyball, oikawa will watch you two with a little smile on his face (this loser is so whipped like man people passing by reminisce on how they were young and in love once because oikawa looks at you like that. oikawa doesn’t notice that he’s doing it though.)

- you sometimes spend time at his house with iwaizumi or on select days just by yourself (mostly for study dates or for watching weird sci-fi movies that oikawa seems to love)

- since you’re at his house so often, oikawa’s mother takes a liking to you because “you finally got her boy to care about something that isn’t volleyball.”

- it’s when oikawa groans a “moooom” in response that you start to feel those pesky butterflies

- oikawa will run up to you after games and just hold you tightly (he tells himself that it’s because his fan club and the team are watching, but really it’s because he can’t thank you enough for being there because he just plays better when you’re watching)

- my god, dUDE . he has no idea that he loves you like . MAN .

- mattsun, makki, and iwaizumi always tease oikawa about how you’re so much cooler than him

- oikawa whines to you and says, “y/n-channn they’re being mean again!”

- “what do you want me to do about it?”

- oikawa pouts like the baby he is and says, “kiss,” while pointing to his cheek. you give in and a round of groans comes from mattsun and makki. oikawa looks so smug and those pesky stomach feelings come back. iwaizumi is smiling to himself.

- speaking of iwaizumi

- you two become best friends after he finds you looking dejected as you wait for oikawa to get out of practice. you confided with him about how your relationship was all pretend. you might have also told him that you may be teensy bit in love with his captain

- iwaizumi tells you that, “there are some things you just ... can’t fake. the way that shithead looks at you is one of them. trust me.”

- he also tells you that his suspicion that you and oikawa had this weird spark was what kept him from ever reciprocating your feelings and why he rejected you (oikawa literally tried being your wingman before by texting iwaizumi things like “did you see how pretty y/n was today? don’t you think she was pretty?” and “iwa-chan! y/n is so funny and that’s coming from me, so she really is funny! i think maybe you should talk to her to see what i’m talking about (≧◡≦)”)

- at this point everyone knows that you’re in love with oikawa for real (except for oikawa himself)

- everyone also knows that oikawa’s fallen for you (except for oikawa himself, and you because you refuse to believe it)

- the moment he realizes he’s in love with you is on another one of those dates that you both know you don’t have to have but still choose to have anyway

- you’re making milk bread and he’s helping to measure the ingredients when he turns around to see you covered in flour and he just kinda stops

- and he realizes

- like yeah he’s been getting that small tugging feeling with you a lot over these past few months

- but now he finally realizes it’s because he’s in love with you

- he’s staring for a long time and for a second you think he’s going to make fun of your flour-coated self, but he’s staring at you with that look and you’re confused

- “everything okay? is there something wrong? did you mess up the measurements?”

- then an idea hits him

- “something’s wrong. it’s kind of embarassing though.”

- “what is it?”

- “no but it’s really embarrassing.”

- “what .. what is it?”

- cue cheeky little grin. “i think i might’ve fallen in love with my fake girlfriend. i don’t have another flower to ask her out though. i hope she doesn’t say no.”

- you kiss him for the first time then and take pride in the fact that you get him covered in flour in the process

KUROO.

- it happened the second day that you were at the tokyo training camp

- kuroo was with bokuto and a few of the karasuno first-years when bokuto started telling the first-years that kuroo had a girlfriend because he saw kuroo helping you carry your bags the day before (listen . this man is like . clueless when it comes to emotions sometimes i’msosorry)

- kuroo got this confused look on his face because he thought he would remember getting a girlfriend. “i do?”

- “don’t you? remember the girl you were holding hands with yesterday?”

- this was all some big misunderstanding

- so basically what happened was this: you’re shinzen’s team manager and you were tasked with carrying bags of equipment to the training center. kuroo was waiting for kenma to finish talking with lev (more like trying to avoid though lmao) and noticed that you were struggling so he came over to help

- kuroo figured that bokuto must’ve seen him holding the bags for you and assumed that something must’ve been going on (or maybe he looked over for the split second when kuroo held your hand in order to transfer the bags to his hand)

- he was about to clear things up when lo and behold, you walked into the gym

- “kuroo look! it’s your girlfriend! hey, come join us!”

- bless bokuto’s soul. bless that poor, oblivious soul.

- you walked up to them and looked at kuroo like “what??”

- you remembered him from the day before, but you didn’t remember ever agreeing to being his girlfriend of any sort

- he smiled apologetically at you and asked to talk to you on the side

- “what’s going on? why did he call me your .. girlfriend?”

- “look i’m sorry, bo’s a little … i don’t know. he saw me carrying your bags yesterday and assumed. i’ll clear things up, don’t worry.”

- when you two headed back to where bokuto is standing, it was obvious that kuroo’s smooth-sailing explanation wasn’t happening anytime soon

- because lev was there, and so was yaku

- “KUROO-SENPAI? THIS IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND? SHE’S VERY PRETTY SENPAI!” (bless lev’s soul too. another part of the extremely oblivious club.)

- yaku took no hesitation in teasing kuroo. “since when does kuroo ever get any girl to like him? this is new. no offense, of course.”

- kuroo tried clearing up the air by saying, “guys- listen this has all been som-“

- hinata doesn’t let him finish either lmao “YOU’RE THE TEAM MANAGER FOR SHINZEN!” (extremely oblivious club member number 3 here)

- “a team manager, kuroo? what’d you do to get her to say yes? is she a chemistry nerd too?”

- “bo-“

- they kinda just went like that back and forth, and kuroo kept getting interrupted

- you were just laughing to the side because it was kind of funny

- you also kinda felt bad for kuroo because damn his friends had like no faith in his romantic skills at all??

- maybe that was what made you say it, but after his friends were done teasing him you said, “he’s kind of a catch though, don’t you think? nerdy and funny is a girl’s dream isn’t that what they say?”

- kuroo blinked at you because what??

- once kuroo got you alone by asking you to take a walk outside of the gym, he asked, “so … what does this make us?” (surprise, surprise, he never got the chance to tell them about the misunderstanding)

- you just shrugged because really how bad could this be? “i felt bad at how much they were teasing you, so we could keep up the fake boyfriend/girlfriend thing for the week. it shouldn’t be too bad. plus it’ll save you the embarrassment of having to tell your friends that you didn’t actually get a girlfriend.”

- you guys did pretty good for the week of the training camp

- you’d cheer him on in secret if he got a spike or a block during a practice game while simultaneously still watching shinzen’s game

- you two walked around the halls when bokuto was watching just to keep up pretenses

- you learned that he’s a major nerd during these walks, which you found really endearing

- on the last day of camp, he tried to throw pieces of broccoli in your mouth (he didn’t stop until he finally got it in after his 9th try)

- you guys initially planned to “break up” after the camp was over

- but here comes bokuto again

- “hey y/n! kuroo, akaashi, and i were gonna go out for karaoke tomorrow if you wanna join.”

- you grew to like bokuto too so you said you’d come

- it was actually a really fun night

- you and kuroo sang a duet together

- he also stole some of your ramen

- you took a video of bokuto as he serenaded akaashi

- when you guys are leaving to go home, bokuto goes “you two are so cute. y/n do me a favor and don’t break up with kuroo until after the qualifiers would you? i wanna play him at his full game.” (again. seriously, he basically is the greatest accidental wingman ever)

- “we can’t break his heart, can we?”

- “no, we can’t.”

- and so your fake relationship starts

- you don’t get to visit each other often because you don’t live in the same vicinity, but you guys text often (it’s a friend thing, you both swear to yourselves)

- on weekends when kuroo’s not spending time with kenma, he’ll ask you to meet him at a park or a cafe (you two always send selfies to bokuto during every date)

- dates with him are always really fun because he’s spontaneous and also very active so sometimes he’ll take you by the hand and just drag you places

- he is not afraid to smear different colors of ice cream on your nose and call you some obscure name from some really old movie that he may have watched that week

- he also makes you push him on the swings

- the little kids get mad because what is this rooster man doing taking up a swing when he’s so old

- you laugh at him when the kids eventually come up to him and ask if they can use the swing

- dates will usually last the whole day because you’re both fine with just walking around and randomly finding stuff to do

- with all that time spent talking, you two also get to know each other really well

- like basically your life stories

- it took him a while to open up and at first he insists that you tell your story first, but after a while you notice how he starts letting little things about his life slip here and there until he starts telling you bigger portions

- you also get really close with kenma

- not close close the way him and kuroo are, but kenma would probably see you as his second closest friend

- that’s why sometimes kenma tags along with you guys (it doesn’t feel like third wheeling or anything because both you and kuroo enjoy kenma’s presence as much as each other’s)

- eventually, once you two got the hang of it, you’re like the couple that everyone likes

- because you’re both pretty funny and overall just have nice vibes

- his team starts to call you mom and dad as a joke because sometimes when shinzen doesn’t have practice, you’ll stop by at nekoma at the end of practice just to say hi

- they’re not wrong about the mom and dad thing though (it’s a really cute dynamic though i swear)

- your team used to not like him at first because they were protective of you, but eventually they reluctantly warmed up to him

- they threatened to demolish him if he hurt you though

- LMAO ANYWAYS .. MOVING ON

- you guys have lots of study dates too!!

- since you’re both busy because of volleyball related things, a lot of your schedule lines up with each other (this also means that kuroo knows when you haven’t had time to study)

- you’ll be sitting on his bed on your stomach with your legs draped across his thighs as you read your textbook and he’ll be sitting against his bed frame reading one of his assigned readings (i also like to think that kuroo has glasses for these readings that only you and kenma have seen)

- sometimes, when you finish studying before he finishes, you’ll come up behind him and just start to play with his hair

- his hair is actually really soft despite looking like a bird built its nest in it

- you also have two of his jackets that are just lying around your house

- he likes when you wear them because he thinks you look so cute (he doesn’t tell you that though)

- after a while, it’s like both of you have forgotten that this was all a ruse just so bokuto wouldn’t get heartbroken after you two break up

- at this point, kuroo has learned all your quirks, habits, and has also memorized your schedule

- like … he doesn’t realize that he’s fallen for you until someone points it out

- he realizes he’s fallen for you on the day that shinzen loses in the tournament (this would be your last match)

- now nekoma just played a game, but kuroo’s first instinct is to check whether or not shinzen won (he’s been doing this for every game in the tournament)

- when he sees that you lost, he knows that you’ll be sad and in need of a pick me up

- as kenma and him are packing up, he says, “shinzen lost today. i probably can’t make it to your house tonight. y/n will probably want to go out with her team for a bit, but she’ll probably crash at my place. do you think i should make her a strawberry cake? or maybe she’ll want onigiri? no, she’ll probably want the cake. she always gets the little smile with her one dimple whenever she eats my strawberry cake. makes me proud.”

- kenma’s just looking at kuroo with arched eyebrows because HIS BEST FRIEND IS WHIPPED

- kuroo doesn’t get why kenma’s looking at him like that because he thinks about things like that all the time. “what??”

- oh kenma knows your relationship is fake

- so he just looks at kuroo and says, “try to refrain getting down on one knee today. i doubt you have a ring, and i’ll bet that y/n will want a confession of you being hopelessly, madly in love with her before you propose by the way.”

- kuroo kind of freezes and blinks at him.

- “wh … what?”

- “kuro, do i really need to spell out for you that you’re totally smitten with her? you have been for a while now.”

- “have not.”

- “yes, you have.”

- “have not.”

- “yes, you have.”

- “have not.”

- “yes, you have.”

- at this point, kuroo knows that kenma’s onto something, but kuroo doesn’t wanna jump to conclusions until he sees you again

- when you knock on his door and run straight into his arms that night, he knows kenma’s right

- like you’re balling into his chest and he gets that feeling that he wants to hold you forever and never let go

- and he knows. he knows.

- after you start to calm down, he offers you the cake that he made just for you

- he swears that he feels ten times lighter after he sees that exact smile with the exact dimple on your face

- now kuroo may be loud, and rambunctious at times, but when he loves, it’s quiet, simple, but not any less there

- as you finish eating the cake, kuroo notices that there’s a few pink crumbs on your lips

- and he kisses you

- like a “slow, hand on the cheek, nose touching after he pulls away” kind of kiss

- “i made a realization today. kenma told me to hold back on proposing, so i’ll go with confessing instead.”

- you’re looking up at him with your heart beating hard in your chest

- “i think you might’ve made me fall in love with you.”

sorry if there are any mistakes lmao i tried catching all of them but ... 6k words ...... yanno. .....

[solarwonux]

84.  “I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.”

roomate!junkook x f!reader

genre: smut

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: smut, fwb, Jungkook and his tattoos, tattooartist!jungkook, dom!jungkook if you squint, spiting, cum eating, oral sex (m receiving), a brief mention of voyeurism, briefly edited, also Jungkook is kind off fluffy, this couple is weird af y’all. 

note: hello, Idk what I did but I’ve done it lol. This is also a drabble that will eventually be part of a bigger story that I have half outlines lol, so I hope you enjoy this preview. I hope you like it please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

Fourth time’s the charm.

Jungkook thought as he made his way to the front door of the tattoo shop. He pulled on the handle rather harshly making sure it was closed. Last week he had forgotten to lock the door, resulting in a drunk stranger walking in demanding a tattoo. Thankfully, the stranger’s intrusion triggered the security alarm, waking Jungkook in a fright. He ran down the steps of his apartment - the one located above the shop, half naked, carrying the bat you and him kept by the front door, his heart pounding against his chest. 

To say the least he was terrified. Scared that something would happen to the expensive tattooing equipment. Scared that Yoongi would fire him and therefore kick him out of the apartment, scared of something happening to you. His nerves subsided when he found the drunk stranger, passed out on the couch in the waiting room. 

The equipment, his job and you were all safe. 

Ever since then he had made it his mission, even writing it down on a highlighter yellow sticky note as a reminder; to check not once but four times if the front door was locked.

Jungkook sighed, giving the door one last pull, making it rattle against the locks, before deeming it locked. A fifth time wouldn’t hurt. 

He turns around, walking past the waiting room and the reception desk. He does one last look over, mumbling underneath his breath, checking to see if he had done everything he needed to do on his to-do list before turning off the lights. Quickly, he pushed aside the colorful paint splattered curtain that hid the front door to his apartment to the general public. He pressed in the code, waiting for the lock to click, going over the appointments or lack there off he had the following day. 

As of late, Jungkook, Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok hadn’t had many clients come into the shop or request an appointment via instagram. He blames the rival shop that opened a few blocks away, and their stupid flash event, where they tattooed people for free. Of course they weren’t intricate pieces, small basic ones that you would pick out from the generic tattoo binder. But it still caused a dent in their clientele. 

That night you came home after work to find the four tattooists, on the couch, shooting glares at the shop door, with a large bottle of whisky in between them, and their man-size ego down in the slumps. The solution was simple, at least it was in your head. 

“Hold an event like theirs, maybe shirtless. I’ve only seen Jungkook’s abs because he loves walking around the apartment half naked but I’m sure you guys have a promising pair.” You suggested with a shrug, earning groans and complaints from the four artists on the couch. 

Yoongi stood up first, holding a hand out as an attempt to regain his balance from the sudden movement. “I’m not degrading myself or my art for clients. I’m also not giving away my talent for free.” He slurred, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction, “and my abs are better than Kooks.” 

“Alright, it was just a suggestion.” You held your hands up in defeat, taking a step back. “I’m going to bed, enjoy your pity party.” You smiled at them before making your way to the front door and disappearing. 

In hindsight, maybe you were right. Except for the half naked part, that’s dangerous and goes against all tattoo etiquette. But maybe holding a flash event and offering tattoo’s half off was not a bad idea. It would surely bring back their clients and make way for new ones. He would have to bring it up to his coworkers tonight when they came over.

Jungkook sighed, stopping at the top of the stairs facing the final door that led to his living room. He could hear the loud poppy music you were playing behind the door. Living with you wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be when Yoongi first offered you the vacant room. You were clean, organized and relatively respectful of personal space, but he hated your music. It was generic and just way too bouncy and happy, it was a good thing you gave a great head, if not he would’ve begged Yoongi to kick you out long ago. Before he got attached.

He wasn’t a dick he just thought with his dick ninety nine percent of the time and right now it was very much needing a stress release. Jungkook punched in the final code and opened his front door, revealing you in nothing but a tight pair of leggings and a sports bra, sweat droplets running down your body as you followed along with the exercise video on youtube. You looked very much like you would look after the two of you finished fucking and it made his cock stir in his jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You said in between breaths, squatting down, finishing your last rep of squats. Jungkook bit his bottom lip, nodding in response. His hands were down by his sides, itching to squeeze your ass, to pull you against him and take you on the couch. It wouldn’t be out of pocket either. He knew you would give in the second he gave you that lust filled look of his. The one that was desperate and needy and practically begging for your touch.

You stopped pausing the video and turned to look at him, hands on your hips, chest heaving in a poor attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook knew he was fucked. “Are you sure you locked the door?” 

“Yes I checked five times tonight, have you had dinner?” He blinked rapidly, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans hiding his hardening cock as best as he could.

“An hour ago.” You reassured, unpausing the workout video and positioning yourself in downward dog. 

Jungkook looked up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths following your haggard ones and counted to ten. He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed you. Needed your mouth around him until he was painting the back of your throat white. Counting to ten once wasn’t enough to calm him down. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third recount that he felt your arms circle around his waist, a faint kiss left underneath his earlobe, that he knew he was done for. 

“I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.” You whisper leaving opening mouthed kisses down his neck tonguing the spot between his clavicle and neck. Jungkook’s eyes opened wide, his lips parting in an inaudible sigh. 

“Fuck baby please.” He caved, taking your head in his hands and pushing you away before leaning down and capturing your lips with his, in a wet, messy and needy kiss. He didn’t care that your lips were salty due to the sweat, they felt like heaven against his. 

You moaned into the kiss feeling the wet muscle of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip asking for access, in which you so rightfully gave him. His hand left your cheek and traveled down your neck until it was groping your boob through your thin sports bra. You pulled away to catch your breath for a few seconds, whimpering as his palm worked against your hardened nipple diligently before kissing him again, teeth clattering against one another. 

He pulled away pushing your sports bra up releasing your boobs, his index fingers and thumbs pinching your nipples and pulling on them gently. “Jungkook, w-what do you want?” You moan, closing your eyes as he rolled your nipples between his sweaty palms. Not only did Jungkook love touching your ass, he also loved playing with your boobs, claiming they were the best pair of boobs he had ever seen in his entire twenty six years of life. 

“Get on your knees baby girl, want to see your lips wrapped around me.” He mumbles against the crown of your head while he continues to knead at your boobs. 

You nod kissing the outline of the tattoo that was peeking against the neck of his white t-shirt. You send him a wink. A deep hum leaves his lips as you slowly kissed your way down his clothed chest, until you were face to face with his jean cladded bulge. You looked beautiful, your eyes glossy with need and your mouth watering as you couldn’t wait for the weight of his cock against your tongue.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes your face against his jeans, he was so hard he could feel himself pulsing with need. It didn’t help that your fingers were walking up his thighs at an agonizing pace, while your mouth was now kissing him through the fabric, satisfied hums leaving your lips. “You’re so fucking hard Kook.” You pull away finally unbuttoning his jeans, your fingers brushing against him while you unzip his pants slowly.

“You’re such a tease baby girl, almost makes me think that you want to get punished tonight.” He tilts his head, pushing his hips into your hands as you palmed him over his boxers, while your other hand pushes his jeans down, leaving him in only his t-shirt and black boxers. 

You look up at him smirking, leaning in to kiss the tattoo decorating his thigh. You had gotten off on it many times before, it was your favorite pastime when you were needy and bored. “Maybe I do, take your shirt off.” You demanded, biting down on his skin making him jump. 

He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks making you face him, “Be careful I’m not feeling very nice today.” The sinister look behind his eyes makes you shudder, “open your mouth,” You smile, parting your lips sticking your tongue out before Jungkook leans over, a glob of spit hitting your tongue making you moan in delight. “What do you say?” His grip on your cheeks is hard. 

“Thank you sir.” You mewl, hooking your thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, wasting no time in freeing him. His cock was pretty, you had once told him that and it made him double over in laughter. No one had ever called his cock beautiful. Maybe big but never beautiful but you were a character and he should’ve expected a comment like that from you. 

“Good girl, now go on, this is all you’re getting tonight so you better enjoy it.” He wraps his hand around himself, spitting down onto his length using it to lube himself up before guiding it to your slightly parted lips. He knew you loved to watch him touch himself, sometimes if you weren’t home and he was needy he would sit on the couch fucking his hand knowing you would walk at any minute and help him finish the job. Or sit in front of him on the coffee table, legs spread wide touching yourself, moaning his name like his fingers were inside of you instead of yours. If Yoongi knew the dirty escapades that happened behind the walls of the apartment above his tattoo shop he would never step foot inside again. Thankfully he didn’t know, yet. 

You stick your tongue out and lick his head, rolling your nipples against the palm of your hands. The sight was award winning and Jungkook wanted to so badly get his camera out and capture the moment. To add to your shared collection. “So fucking sexy baby girl, always so good for me.” He tapped the head of his cock against your tongue before you close your lips around him, running your tongue underneath the head of his cock. 

Jungkook’s hand came behind your head, guiding you further down his cock sending a thrum of arousal up his spine. You hollow out your cheeks looking up at him with watering eyes. He moans, gripping your ponytail, giving you an experimental thrust making you gag around him. It sounded like the beginning of a beautiful melody, not the ones that belonged to your shitty pop music but the one that would keep you up at night lost in thought. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” He thrusts again, while you tug on the hem of his shirt. “Want to see me, look at my tattoos while I fuck your mouth?” He grunts, quickly discarding his shirt once he hears the needy moan that escapes your cock filled mouth. He knew his tattoos were your ultimate turn on. The reason you had gotten on your knees before him the first time after living together for a full year. He couldn’t say no, not when the only thought running through his mind was the stain your red lipstick would leave behind on his cock. 

Calm him a douchebag or compare him to a hormonal filled teenager, he didn’t care. He was a man after all. One that hadn’t had sex in two years after his last girlfriend cheated on him with his brother. 

Frankly, he needed an ego boost and you were there to give it to him, so he caved.

You pull off of him breathing heavily, a thread of saliva connects your lips to the head of your cock as you try to catch your breath. The sight was anything but underwhelming and enough to make him cum, but Jungkook hated his cum going to waste. He was healthy and young and it should go to good use.

 “I-I want you to use my mouth, please.” You croak before dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. “Want you to cum in my mouth sir.” Mumbling, you tease his head with the tip of your tongue making him groan. 

“Such a dirty mouth, it's a good thing I’m making good use out of it.” He says, a cocky smirk evident on his face. You nod happily, humming with please as you take him into your mouth again, sinking further, hollowing your cheeks moaning around him as you watch his face scrunch up in pleasure. His abs contract as he tries to control himself, at least until you give him the go ahead. And you do with a slight tap of your fingers against his thighs. 

He growls, thrusting his hips into your mouth, guiding your head up and down, gagging around him. His cock feels hot and heavy against your tongue, making both of you moan simultaneously. “Always letting me use you, what would our friends say if they walked in. You know I invited them over for drinks, right?” 

You whimper around him, closing your eyes at the thought of getting caught with him, balls deep down your throat. You hated that he had caught onto your slight voyeurism kink as it was only a matter of time where he threw all tattoo etiquette he knew and lived by out on the window and fucked you in his workshop, with only a thin curtain separating you and the rest of the shop. 

His thrusts get more desperate. His orgasm was approaching quickly as he twitched inside of your mouth. You dig your nails into his thighs, creating crescent moons as you feel your lungs start to give out. He mutters a low fuck followed by a quick apology before he pulls away. You gasp resting your hand against your chest, your eyes are filled with tears, bubbles of saliva painting your chin. Jungkook swears he’s never seen a sight as beautiful as this one and once again he’s cursing himself for not giving himself enough time to grab his camera. 

“Can you go more or do you need a break?” He whispers, eyes filled with concern while he caresses your cheek with his thumb. 

You shake your head, “Just give me time to regain my breath.” With a soft smile you leave a chaste kiss against the tattoo decorating his hip. It was part of a bigger piece, one that adorned the entire right side of his body, but nevertheless for some odd reason it was your favorite one. 

Jungkook nods, wrapping his hand around himself, muffled curses escaping his beautiful lips. “I’m so close, baby girl, just let me cum on your face.” He all but begs, gripping his cock tightly and thrusting his hips into his hand. 

You pout, a sound of protest leaves your swollen lips making Jungkook roll his eyes. “You can blow me again later, open your mouth baby.” He tucks his lips in between his lips, hips casting into his hand desperately. The pool between your legs grows, overflowing as you watch the mesmerizing sight in front of you. God, he was so fucking sexy. 

You open your mouth sticking your tongue. Jungkook throws his head back moaning your name in a sweet incantation, ropes of cum hitting your tongue and cheeks, while you moan along with him. 

Jungkook opens his eyes, riding out his orgasm, painting your chin watching as you drag your tongue into your mouth swallowing his salty substance, humming in satisfaction. “J-Jungkook.” The needy way you say his name makes his cock twitch and he has to keep himself from getting hard again. 

“You look so pretty baby girl, so fucked out and pretty, only for me.” He whispers, collecting the cum that was dripping down your chin with his thumb before bringing it up your lips, coating them. “So filthy too, thank you baby.” He leans down, running his tongue against your cheek collecting his cum before kissing you slowly and sensually, pushing his tongue inside of your mouth, coating the inside with his cum. 

Jungkook hates his cum going to waste. You whimper, snaking your arms around his neck pulling him closer, sucking on his tongue. He grins against your lips and moves away, chuckling as you continue to chase his lips with yours. “I need you Kookie.” You sigh, a pout forming on your swollen lips. “Please just fuck me, use me. I don’t care anymore.” You let out a sob, your pussy throbbing begging to be touched. 

He helps you up, circling his arms around your waist, nosing your hair as he sighs. He wants to give him, lead you to the couch, but the guys were going to be here at any minute and he couldn’t have time to please you the way he wanted to. 

“Let’s go shower, I promise the second the guys leave I’ll eat you out like a starved man.” He suggests, leaving a light kiss against your forehead. He didn’t feel as stressed as he was earlier, but that’s all thanks to you and how easy it was for him to get lost in your world.

“Is that a promise?” You tilt your head curiously, toying with the hair resting against the back of his neck.  

“I always keep promises, baby girl.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Animalistic | dark!Peter Parker x reader

summary: your friend Peter has a crush on you, everybody knows it, nobody does anything about it. except, of course, when he gains new powers and loses control of his affections.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut! (non con), degradation, creampie kink, choking, forced begging, peter overall being a huge asshole, everybody is 18+ but heavily implied to be high school seniors

a/n: okay so this was actually inspired by a scene from an episode of buffy (lol) so if you’re a fan and you recognize some of this dialogue then that’s why! I pretty much had to write this as soon as it ended because it was so hot jfc

Peter had always acted slightly strange around you. Not all the time; he was one of your best friends, and 99% of the time you felt completely comfortable around him.

But that 1%... when you went to pool parties together, when you asked him to turn around while you changed, when you bumped into him at Homecoming last year and he looked at you in a way that was definitely more than friendly…

Everyone knew he had a crush on you, they told you constantly. It was pretty much an open secret at this point, you were pretty sure that he knew you knew, and so everyone just knew but never talked about it. Even though it was getting more awkward by the minute as a result, you didn’t see any reason for it to change.

What you didn’t know was that something had changed, something you could never understand fully but which had transformed your friend completely. He had gained new strength, a new power his body could barely handle; and with it, everything he needed to take what he had wanted and longed for but never before could’ve attained.

What you didn’t know was that, while you were cleaning up the AV club meeting room after school, when the building was nearly deserted and the sun was beginning to set, Peter had already found you, and watched you, and waited for the right moment to use his powers of stealth to sneak up behind you. He whispered your name, just past your shoulder, and you whipped around suddenly.

“Peter!” you yelped, stepping back slightly— but he took a step closer. When you stepped to the side to get past him, he stepped just a moment faster and blocked your way. It was like a waltz, but significantly more terrifying. Instantly you knew this was not the Peter you were used to. This was not your best friend, this was not the guy who had laughed with you and cried with you and been by your side all through high school. This was somebody else… and he was way too close for comfort.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a little smirk, dripping with the confidence that you weren’t going anywhere. When you tried to run, he grabbed you; when you tried to break free, he pushed you to the ground, pinning you by your wrists.

“Get off of me!” you cried.

“Is that really what you want?” he pressed. “‘Cause I think you want me. I think you didn’t want to admit it before, but you’re attracted to me— and it’s okay! It’s good. God, I’ve been waiting for so long for you to just accept it…” he trailed off as one hand released your wrist so it could brush across your face.

You swung your freed hand at him, landing a punch; when he raised his hands to his cheek, you managed to squirm out from under him and get to your feet. You hadn’t even taken a step towards the door yet when he had already gotten up and stood in your way, shrugging off the punch like it was nothing as he stalked towards you.

Remember what you learned in Tae Kwon Do, you repeated like a chant in your mind, holding your fists up in a blocking stance, stumbling slightly when you backed into a desk behind you. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Peter.”

He lunged forward and grabbed you, roughly slamming you against the wall as he pinned you again and you sobbed with terror. “Do you wanna hurt me now?” he taunted. “Go ahead and try, I like seeing you fight—” he leaned in closer, until you could feel his breath against your ear— “and knowing it’s fucking useless.”

“S-stop,” you whimpered, “Peter, please— this isn’t you.”

“But it is me, sweetheart,” he growled, smiling with teeth so much sharper than you remembered. “Did you really think I’d wait forever, crushing on you from the sidelines, watching you date all those douchebags who didn’t ever treat you right and never taking you for myself? I was just puny little Peter, your dumb geeky friend you thought you were too good for.”

“No!” you denied. “No, Peter, I never thought that.”

“You like ‘em mean, don’t you?” he chuckled, ignoring you completely. “That’s why you keep dating these guys who treat you like crap. You want mean, you want dangerous, you want strong and brutal and… animalistic. I can do that. I can do mean.”

“Peter, please don’t—”

He took a long, slow breath in through his nose, letting his eyes fall shut as he smiled with satisfaction. “You don’t need to be so scared,” he whispered, “but I kinda like it. The more I scare you, the better you smell.”

You opened your mouth to ask what the fuck he was talking about, but words didn’t come to you as he leaned in and attaching his lips to your neck, licking and sucking at your pulse point. A breathless whimper spilled out from between your lips as you shivered beneath him, feeling his smile of satisfaction on your skin.

He kicked your legs apart, slotting his body between them and laughing as he rocked his hips against yours; but he wasn’t laughing at that, he was laughing at the fear he must have smelled on you when you felt his hard cock between your legs. “Hmm, you’re thinking it’s a little big, right? You’re thinking ‘wait a second, how am I supposed to take all that?’ Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re gonna love it. You’re gonna love coming all over this thick, aching cock…”

He purred— a low, deep sound that echoed through his chest and rattled your heart— as he started to pull your jacket off roughly, not finding your resistance much trouble at all. Your shirt, though, he ripped through like it was paper; you winced and looked away, unable to stomach the sight of him licking his lips as he tore through your bra, too.

“Look at these pretty tits,” he cooed, reaching up to grab them roughly, twisting the nipples and watching them harden under his ministrations. “You like that, huh? You like having your tits played with? Is this how your asshole exes did it, too?”

You shook your head, afraid that he would hurt you more if you didn’t answer at all.

The relief you experienced when he took his hands off of your chest was short-lived, as his touch drifted down to your jeans instead.

“No, Peter,” you gasped, your eyes shooting open as he glared back down at you while he unbuttoned and unzipped your fly. “Wait, wait, you don’t— you don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I want to,” he asserted as he roughly pulled your jeans— and panties— down to your ankles. You cried as he instantly dove in between your legs, licking you eagerly, holding you down with a vice-tight grip on your thighs. Every movement of his tongue shot jolts of pleasure up your body, making your head fall back against the wall. “Fuck,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by your sex in his mouth, “your pussy is fucking delicious, sweetheart.”

When you tried to push him away, all you managed to do was card your fingers through his hair, and he grinned before latching his lips onto your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking and quivering against his face.

“You gonna come, honey? You’re so close, I can taste it…”

“No,” you denied, “no— you’re wrong, I don't—”

“You like it,” he snarled. “You like how it feels when I fuck you with my tongue. See?” Just for emphasis, he had to thrust his tongue inside you, making the most filthy squelching noises as the wetness of his mouth collided with the wetness your body had produced for him so easily. “Just come,” he encouraged. “It’ll make you nice and tight for when I put my cock in you.”

You fought it with everything in you, but with the way he held you down and forced the barrage of sensation on you, it was impossible to avoid. Disturbingly, it was not in spite of the fear that you hit your peak; if anything, it actually made it stronger, mixing with your arousal to create a delicious sickness in your gut as the coil snapped and you gasped his name, falling apart atop his face as your thighs clamped down on his head against your will.

When his tongue broke away from you, pulling back with a come-slickened grin, you shuddered. “Was that so hard?” he faux-pouted. “I knew it. I knew you wanted me. See how good I can make you feel? Well, it’s only gonna get better.”

“W-wait,” you stammered as he stood up, but he paid no mind, grabbing you by the neck and forcing you to spin around and face the wall. He slapped your ass, hard, before you heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. You didn’t see it, you never saw it, but you felt it as he pressed the hot, hard shape against you. You bit back a squeal as you felt how thick it was, tears striping your face as he laughed at you again: cruel, mocking, cold.

“Yeah, this cock’s gonna be inside you, sweetheart. Finally.”

“Don’t… please don’t…” you sighed weakly, just above a whisper.

He pulled your hips back roughly, forcing you to arch your back. You felt so exposed, almost like you were in display for him, as he teased your sensitive clit with the head of his cock. “You can keep begging if you want, it’s kinda cute.”

You knew you were past the point of stopping him, but you hoped you could at least reason with him slightly, or bargain with him in any way. “Please…” you whispered, “don’t make it hurt. Please just be gentle.”

He laughed. And he’d laughed so many times before, but this was different. This time was almost genuine, like it was actually funny to him. He laughed so hard that it sounded like he would lose his breath, until it all came to a sudden stop and he pressed his entire body against your back, growling into your ear: “No.”

He shoved his cock into you, all the way to the hilt, holding your hips still so he could bury himself in your heat. “Fuck!” he groaned, already pulling back and slamming into you brutally. “You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.”

The praise made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even with his warm breath against the skin there. His intrusion stung, made your insides burn with the force of his rough movements. Worst of all was how good it felt, against everything that made you want to hate it. His cock filled you better and reached deeper in you than anything ever had before, and your earlier orgasm made everything more sensitive. His balls were slapping against your clit with each thrust, and as lewd as it was, it was just as perfect as you shivered from every brief-yet-powerful touch.

Your sobs morphed to moans, exacerbated by his hands roughly grabbing your breasts again once his arms had wrapped around you.

“Oh, I know you love it so much,” he cooed with a taunting grin. “Tell me how good it feels.”

Before you’d even really gotten a chance to shake your head, he wrapped his hand tightly around your neck, cutting off your air as you opened your mouth in search of a breath you couldn’t reach.

“You get to breathe when you’re ready to be honest,” he explained gruffly, “with me and with yourself. Tell me,” he repeated, harsher than before, “how good it feels.”

As soon as he released his grip on your pulse, you cried out. “So good!” you sobbed. “So good, Peter, it f-feels so good…”

“Good enough to make you come?” he smirked. “I think so, with the way this needy little cunt is squeezing me so tight already. Are you close, baby? Fuck, I hope so, I wanna see you come for my cock.”

You breathed through your teeth, hoping you could will yourself not to, but at this point was it even worth the effort? Maybe giving into him really was the best thing— you’d already told him how good it felt, you’d already come from his mouth, you’d already pleaded weakly for him to be gentle only for him to fuck you with a vengeance. How much more dignity could you possibly lose?

“Beg me to let you come,” he instructed, “and then beg me to come inside you.”

Okay, so that’s a lot more dignity you had left to lose.

“N-no, Peter,” you whimpered, “I’m not— you can’t— I’m not on—”

You were cut off with a choke again, your cries sputtering into silence. “You should learn to do what you’re told,” he grunted. “I’ll keep choking you until you pass out, I don’t care. If you want to breathe, don’t take that air for granted. Beg.”

You shook your head against the grip on your neck, even with the spots of black dancing at the edge of your vision. Your hands clawed at his, uselessly fighting his impossible strength.

“Are you ready to beg yet, sweetheart?” he whispered. With hot tears filling your darkening eyes, you finally nodded. He let go and a gasp filled your lungs.

“Please, Peter,” you cried instantly, voice still hoarse and weak from the lack of air, “please— let me come. I wanna come for you, please…”

“That’s good,” he encouraged, “keep going.”

“Please!” you yelped, repeating it over and over until the word had lost all meaning and just because the noises of your despair as pleasure filled you past the point of no return. You were terrified of what would happen if you came without his permission, and worse, you were sure he would be able to tell since he could feel your walls pulsing and, apparently, smell your fear which was a horrifying thought.

“Okay, baby,” he groaned, pumping into you faster and harder until your hips were slamming into the wall in front of you painfully. “Go ahead and come for me.”

“Fuck!” you cried, your legs shaking as you tried to hold yourself up on wobbly knees, pleasure rocking your body ruthlessly and relentlessly. You heard him chuckle softly against your ear, mumbling his approval, but his words were just static in the pleasured haze of your mind, your body limp and drained of all fight as he used your body to chase his own high.

“Now beg me to come inside you,” he reminded you with a growl. “Beg me to fill up this little pussy with my come.”

“I can’t,” you breathed, barely audible.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s not that hard. Are you too dumb to beg, little baby? Are you all stupid now that my cock’s in you?”

You whimpered but couldn’t muster words.

“All you can do is whine and cry like the dumb baby you are, hm? Then I don’t think you get to breathe anymore,” he frowned, disappointed as he tightened his hand around your neck again.

“Wait—” you pleaded with the last of your breath, feeling his grip hesitate. “Please,” you gasped, swallowing dryly to try to stomach your own words, “please come inside me… fill up my… my little pussy, with your come, please, Peter.”

He grinned, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Good job, sweetheart,” he praised, “you’re gonna get exactly what you’re asking for…”

You grimaced as you felt him start to flex and pulse inside you, warmth spreading between your legs and leaking out of you to drip down around his cock.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned slowly, your name leaving his lips in a sigh as he started to catch his breath.

And then it was just the two of you, alone in this empty classroom, sweaty and panting and sticky in the worst possible places.

The moment he pulled out of you and stepped back, his weight no longer holding you up against the wall, you crumpled to the floor. When he observed you lying there, he seemed proud of his work.

You sort of expected him to just leave you on the floor, but he was gentlemanly enough to help you up and even to pull your jeans up for you, dooming you to a fate of ruined panties as his come seeped from your abused entrance. Your shirt and bra were ruined, meaning you would have to put on your jacket and zip it up all the way to be able to get off of campus without some indecent exposure.

"This was fun," he announced, "we should do it again some time."

"Yeah, no thanks," you scoffed as you started to walk towards the door— but he stopped you by grabbing your arm, turning you to face him.

"You can go, for now," he hissed, "but I'm not anywhere near done with you. Understand?"

You nodded sheepishly, and he finally let go. Like you'd wanted to more than anything since he'd appeared behind you, you finally slipped out through the door. You tried not to think about what had just occurred. You tried not to think about his promise that it would happen again. You tried not to think about how he had made you come taster and harder than you ever had before.

Maybe he was right, and you really do like 'em mean after all.

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn 

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k 

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry... 

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile. 

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door. 

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck. 

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in. 

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me. 

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” 

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less. 

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.” 

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful. 

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying. 

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you. 

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled. 

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends. 

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them. 

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.” 

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves. 

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said. 

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression. 

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand. 

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid. 

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups. 

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well. 

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked. 

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?” 

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long. 

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.  

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work. 

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria. 

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before. 

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated. 

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.” 

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought. 

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room. 

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food. 

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?” 

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you. 

“Project?” You ask. 

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass. 

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem. 

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays. 

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table. 

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms. 

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask. 

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled. 

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…” 

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms. 

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara. 

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said. 

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara. 

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone. 

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids. 

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”  

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper. 

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria. 

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes. 

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called. 

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him. 

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you. 

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails. 

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room. 

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door. 

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room. 

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting? 

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair. 

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home. 

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.” 

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words. 

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair. 

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo. 

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.” 

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting. 

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet. 

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said. 

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.” 

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.” 

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears. 

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands. 

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained. 

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next. 

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?” 

You felt your ears redden. 

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.” 

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”  

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next? 

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket. 

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you. 

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.” 

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.” 

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways. 

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression. 

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows. 

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence. 

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.” 

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after. 

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in. 

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face. 

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked. 

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears. 

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.” 

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness. 

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands. 

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen���s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.” 

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here. 

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office. 

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in. 

“Come in.” 

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up. 

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.” 

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you. 

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked. 

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.” 

                                                         _______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone. 

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him. 

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.” 

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table. 

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside. 

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?” 

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid. 

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up. 

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out. 

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss. 

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing. 

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought. 

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you. 

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up. 

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought. 

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table. 

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water. 

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you. 

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive. 

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm. 

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name? 

“Y/n!” 

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled. 

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.” 

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?  

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others. 

Huh? Was this water? 

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.” 

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee. 

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer. 

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen? 

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said. 

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down. 

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.” 

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth. 

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.” 

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said. 

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder. 

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared. 

You dizzily nodded. 

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced. 

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?” 

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen. 

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down. 

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah —  I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?” 

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone. 

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.   

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off. 

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable. 

“Y/n.” 

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.” 

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep. 

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building? 

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV. 

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times. 

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck. 

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s. 

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added. 

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you. 

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?” 

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought. 

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone. 

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message. 

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

[sketching-shark]

LMK fandom: Oh, what do we do about this guy who has nothing but hurt Xiaotian, tried to replace Sun Wukong and his crew, hurt Tripitaka and ordered servants to cannibalize a monkey? Oh I know! We’ll turn him into our little meow meow~ he’s so innocent and Sun Wukong is obviously the villain!

What doesn’t help is this idea is perpetuated by multiple fan fic writers and artists for some reason. Especially some aus they make that turn SWK into a bastard for the sake of the story rather than considering cultural context and thinking they should be respectful.

And almost everyone lets them get away with it just because the art or fanfic is good and they get so popular that no one can point what is actually wrong without feeling like they’re going to get attacked.

I'm starting to feel like my blog is the one anons go to specifically to vent their frustrations about the Six Eared Macaque in his lego monkey show form & the associated fandom lmao. But I guess this makes sense, as I’ve had fun quasi-dragging him before & will in fact use this anon submission as an opportunity to have my own, to put it academically, bitch fest about not just this fandom's favorite protagonist-traumatizing meow meow, but about the way villains are often treated in not just fanon, but increasingly in canon works as well. But same policy as with the last anon; I'll post my opinions below the cut, and as fandoms love to say, don’t like don't read if you don't want to see me dunking on the six eared simian & common fandom tendencies towards villains.

Oh man I would say where would you even begin with this but anon you’ve pretty much started yourself with my main gripe with a lot of ways that the Six-Eared Macaque is portrayed in fandom; there seems to be this unspoken agreement that his acts of violence towards Sun Wukong, Qi Xioatian, and Qi Xioatian’s loved ones are either to be framed as somewhat or totally justified, to be immediately forgiven/excused, or to simply & completely be ignored. Like friends maybe this is just me not seeing the proper posts but while the fandom is inundated with art and fanfics of Macaque as a generally decent individual & a true member of team good guy, I have yet to see one person address the fact that this monkey literally kidnapped & mind-controlled Xiaotian’s best friend and father figures & forced them to brutalize Xiaotian while ol’ Six Ear looked on and laughed (X_X). Like this kind of fandom villain treatment is definitely not something that’s solely at work for Monkie Kid, but it is kind of nutty how fandoms will swing between yelling that people should be allowed to like villains without even mild critique, and then will just flat-out not address the villainous behavior, and will even bend over backwards to frame even characters who committed genocide as just poor innocent widdle victims who need a hug. At its worst, I’ve even seen tons of people in a fandom get really angry at other people who don’t like a villain, and will even start accusing those people of hating real-life mentally disabled or abused individuals all because they don’t like the fandom’s favorite literal war criminal. The Monkie Kid fandom is FAR more chill & better than a lot of other fandoms I’ve come across in that regard, but that is an exceedingly low bar, & the tendency to woobify certain kinds of villains-- as with Macaque and the extreme emphasis on his bad boy/sad boy thing--is very much at work.  

 I’ve also talked before about a kind of monoculturalization of certain character interpretations and story beats in fandoms, and one of the more popular ones that seems to be applied to Macaque a lot is the “hero actually bad, villain actually good” cliche, as observable from the general fandom assumption that Mr. Six-Ears he wasn’t even slightly lying or remembering things through a rose-tinted or skewed lens when he gave his version of his and Sun Wukong’s past. Like at this point it seems the possibility that people WILL NOT even consider is that Sun Wukong never did & still doesn't care that much about the Six Eared Macaque (in JTTW they weren’t sworn brothers & in Monkie Kid the only thing the monkey king really said to Macaque before attacking him was a pretty contemptuous "Aren't you ever going to get sick of living under my shadow?," & responds to his "beloved friend" getting blown up with "You did good, bud" to Qi Xiaotian, who did the exploding), or that their original fight may in fact have mostly been instigated by Macaque. After all, to repeat what this anon summarized & what I've said before about their original JTTW context (& in an example of the things that do feel like it's often lost in translation) is that the Six Ear Macaque was a villain not just because he beat up the Tang Monk, but because he wanted to take over Sun Wukong's entire life and identity so he could have all that glory, prestige, and power for himself. To quote the macaque himself from the Anthony C. Yu translation, "I struck the T'ang monk and I took the luggage...precisely because I want to go to the West all by myself to ask Buddha for the scriptures. When I deliver them to the Land of the East, it will be my success and no one else's. Those people of the South Jambudvipa Continent will honor me then as their patriarch and my fame will last for all posterity." And in order to do this, the Six Eared Macaque had apparently made Sun Wukong's "little ones," his monkey family, his captives through either trickery or force, and gotten a number of them to take on the appearance of Tang Sanzang and the other pilgrims. It's also made clear that in very direct contrast to Sun Wukong, he doesn't care about these monkeys beyond how they might serve him. In fact, after Sha Wujing kills the monkey posing as him the Six Eared Macaque not only all but immediately replaces him with another, but also "told his little ones to have the dead monkey skinned. Then his meat was taken to be fried and served as food along with coconut and grape wines." So this monkey is not only willing to risk the lives of a lot of other monkeys for his own personal benefit, but is also a literal cannibal. And yes yes, I know a lot of people have argued that Monkie Kid shouldn't be considered a direct sequel to JTTW & that's fair enough (for example, Sun Wukong probably shouldn't be smashing anyone into a meat patty in a children's cartoon lol). And of course, it needs to be noted that there are a buttload of really out there & really cursed pieces of media based on JTTW & that were created in China. Yet the above description is the oft-ignored in the west original facet of the Six Eared Macaque's character. And it is this selfishness, entitlement, and treatment of other individuals as tools for his own self-serving ends  that is, from where I’m standing, still very much present in Monkie Kid. Like besides repeatedly going out of his way to physically and psychologically traumatize Xioatian, with the last episode Macaque seemed to be going right back to his manipulative ways. I’ve seen people frame their last conversation as Macaque softening to Xioatian a little bit, but personally that read a lot more like that common tactic among abusers where even after they’ve hurt you they’ll dangle something you want or need over your head (in Macaque’s case, the promise of desperately needed training and information about a serious looming threat), with the implication that you’ll only get it if you do what they want you to, such as, in this case, Xioatian going back to Macaque as his student even after having been so terribly hurt by this monkey, which would give Macaque power over Xiaotian and probably Sun Wukong as a result. And it is this violence and manipulation that it seems the fandom at large has tacitly decided shouldn’t even be addressed, instead leaning more towards a (and this is an exaggeration) “Six-Eared Macaque my poor meow meow Sun Wukong has always been bad & has always been wrong about literally everything” reading. 

And while it is the case that I am not Chinese and feel that as such it would be best left to someone who actually comes from that background to provide more context into how common interpretations of the Six Eared Macaque from China may clash really badly with the stuff the western fandom creates, it also must be noted that, as much as we all want to have fun in fandom & in spite of all the out-there versions of JTTW from China, we westerners should recognize that there is a very long and very ugly history of western countries stripping other cultures’ important religious and literary works for parts & mashing them into their own thing while implying or even insisting that what they present provides a true understanding of the original piece. And while I trust most individuals in regards to Monkie Kid are able to step back and think “this is a lego cartoon and not a set guide for how I should understand JTTW” (especially given the insistence that JTTW and Monkie Kid should be considered there own separate works) there does nevertheless seem to be something of a tendency to take the conclusions people come to, for example, about Sun Wukong’s characteristic in his lego form & then assume that’s just reflective to Sun Wukong as a totality. I imagine a good portion of this is due to people not reading JTTW & especially to not having easy access to solid information or answers about JTTW’s many different facets (like geez awhile ago I was trying to get a clear answer on what is considered the most accurate translation of the names of Sun Wukong’s six sworn brothers & got like 5 different responses lmao), but that tendency to take a western fandom interpretation & run with it instead of doing any background research or questioning said interpretation is still very much at play. As such, & as made prominent in the way people have been interpreting the dynamic between Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque in the lego monkey show, tbh it does seem kind of shitty for western creators & audience to sometimes go really out of their way to ignore all of this original cultural & narrative context for the sake of Angst (TM) in Macaque's favor, demonizing Sun Wukong, and shipping the monkey king with his evil twin (X_X).

And speaking of which, even beyond the potential inherent creepiness & revulsion that can be inspired by this specific ship given common interpretations of the og classic's original meaning (again, it's my understanding, given both summaries of translated Chinese academic texts I've been kindly provided with, my own reading of the Anthony C. Yu translation of JTTW, & vents from a number of Chinese people I've seen on this site, that the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China as having originated from Sun Wukong himself as a living embodiment of his worst traits, hence why only Buddha can tell the difference between them & why the monkey king is much more slow to violence after he kills the macaque), I'd argue that in the face of all the uwu poor widdle meow meow portrayals lego show Macaque is, especially if you include JTTW's events, still in the role of “Sun Wukong but worse” as he is very much a violent & selfish creep. Like he was basically running around in JTTW wearing a Sun Wukong fursuit, but there he had the sole reason of wanting to replace Sun Wukong wholesale so he could have all the good things in the monkey king's life without actually having to work as hard for them. But if you combine that with Macaque now claiming that he used to be best friend with Sun Wukong in his pre-journey days (something that's made funny from a JTTW context given that that status actually belongs to the Demon Bull King lol), his original violence has now blown into this centuries long and really unhealthy obsession with the monkey king. Like he's apparently gone from wanting to literally be Sun Wukong to being so obsessed with getting revenge on Sun Wukong that he's got basically nothing else going on in his life. Like he's only appeared in two episodes but...does he have any friends? Any family? A career or even a hobby that DOESN'T center the monkey king? Anything at all outside of his "get revenge on and/or kill Sun Wukong/use his successor as my personal punching bag” thing? Like dude! That is extremely creepy and extremely bad for everyone all around! As I’ve said before, this seeming refusal to see beyond the past or to do something that doesn’t involve Sun Wukong in some capacity is a trait that makes Macaque an interesting and somewhat tragic villain--he even seems to be working as Sun Wukong’s reflection in a mirror darkly, with lego show Sun Wukong pretty clearly not being able to heal from his own past which is hinted to be defined by one loss after another, and with Monkie Kid even kind of having these two characters somewhat follow their JTTW characterizations in that in the latter half of the journey Sun Wukong often gets sad & starts crying in the face of what seems insurmountable odds (& Monkie Kid Sun Wukong does seem to be hiding some serious depression behind a cheerful facade), whereas the Six-Eared Macaque retains a worse version of Sun Wukong’s pre-journey characteristic of getting pissed and lashing out if things don’t go his way--but it’s also what would make any current friendship or romantic relationship between these monkeys horrific. Although to be fair even the fandom seems to recognize this in an unconscious way, in that a lot of the art & fanfic seems to swing erratically between them kissing & screaming at each other in yet another example of bog-standard fandom adulation of romanticized toxic relationships lol.  

At the end of the day, of course, this is nothing new. You'll find versions of this dynamic across a ton of fandoms and now even canonical work. And as such, I can only look at this kind of popularized relationship dynamic with a kind of resigned weariness whenever it pops up, & my frustrated question with the popularity of this kind of pairing is the exact same one that I have for a multitude of blatantly toxic villain/hero ships, given common fandom discourse & the tendency to either ignore or justify the villain's actions & demonize the hero: if you're THAT convinced that everything is the hero's fault, if you believe THAT much that the hero is the one in the wrong for the villain's pain and their subsequent actions, then why are you so set on them not only becoming a romantic pair, but framing this get-together as a good thing? Like I know we contain multitudes but that's waaay too many contradictions for me to wrap my head around. And it definitely doesn’t help that one branch of underlying reasoning behind this kind of pairing seems to be the ever-present “you break it, you fix it” mentality, where the assumption is that if you’re in a failing, abusive, and/or generally toxic relationship (platonically or romantically), if you put in enough time and effort & attempts to compromise, you’ll be able to restore/have the relationship you dreamed of, even with someone who hurt you really badly. And this assumption isn’t limited to fandom: I’d even argue that it’s everywhere in the culture, hence why a lot of people feel like they “failed” if they have to get a divorce or make the choice to leave an unhealthy friendship. Personally, I feel like people could really benefit from more stories about how it is not only the case that the people you hurt don’t owe you their forgiveness & you can still become a better and happier person without the one you hurt in your life, & that while it can be really hard it can also be a good thing to leave a relationship, even if it’s one that once meant a lot to you. 

  But in all honestly, from my own perspective this kind of pairing is starting to read far less like enemies to lovers and far more like a horrible fantasy where you can pull whatever shit you want, even on the people you "love," & never be held accountable for your terrible behavior or even have to consider that maybe you were in the wrong. It's another facet that makes me larf every time I see people insist that fandom is an inherently "transformative" or "progressive" form of storytelling like friends you are literally just taking status quo toxic monogamy & rebranding it as somehow beneficial & romantic (X_X).

But as to anon’s last frustration, it is hard to know what is the appropriate response with this kind of thing...like for my own part I’m keeping my frustrations to my blog & now increasingly to posts that you would have to click on the “read more” button to see what I have to say, but I totally get the hesitation to give even a mild critique to big names in a fandom. Like I've now seen it happen repeatedly where someone who has a big name in a fandom will make something that's kind of shitty for one reason or another, someone will message them with some version of "hey, that's kind of shitty, you shouldn't do that," and the typical response is either to blatantly ignore the issue completely, or more popularly to make a giant crying circus that seems deliberately geared towards stoking emotions on both sides of the, for example, fiction does/doesn't affect reality issue so that something that didn't even have to be that big a deal gets blown out of all proportion, with the big name often framing what often started out as a very mild critique into a long crying jag about how the initial response to their kind of shitty thing was so mean/cruel and they're just a poor innocent & that YOU'RE the true racist/sexist/bigot etc. if you don't agree with their opinion. It must of course be noted that there have also been numerous instances of people taking it too far the other way & sending not just big names but smaller creators literal deaths threats over stuff like innocuous ships which like holy hell bells people that’s a horrible thing to do. But for the big names at least, the end result of all this fighting is usually that once the dust has settled they have more attention/fame/money/power in the fandom than before, and with anyone who might have a problem with their stuff feeling afraid to voice their opinion lest they be swarmed by that person's fans. In that way fandom does often seem to increasingly be geared towards presenting an “official” fandom perspective about various facets of a piece of media instead of allowing for a multitude of interpretations, and with criticism, no matter its shape or form or how genuinely warranted it may be, being hounded out of existence. I feel like a lot of this could be made less bad if there wasn’t this constant assumption & even drive to think that a different interpretation of or criticism of your favorite work of fiction or your fanwork isn’t a direct claim that you are a thoroughly loathsome individual (& maybe also if people cultivated an enjoyment of learning things about important works from a culture outside their own, even if what you learn clashes with your own initial understandings), but I guess we’ll see if that ever happens. 

So these are my general thinks about the Six Eared Macaque’s current fandom meow meow status & some of my bigger gripes with fandom tendencies as a whole. I stand by my idea that the most interesting & beneficial route for Macaque moving forward would be a kind of “redemption without forgiveness from the ones you hurt” arc--as I think was done pretty excellently with the character Grace in Infinity Train--and if for no other reason than gosh dern this monkey really needs to cultivate some sort of identity beyond his “Sun Wukong but worse” persona. 

[jokerscrazybrilliant]

Survive - Chapter 1 - (Captain Rex)

Idk why I'm so nervous to post this lol, but I'm new here, anyhow, I've been re-watching Clone Wars and re-fawning over the incredible Captain Rex, so um, here's the maybe beginning to something? I kind of don't know how to judge my own writing so I hope this isn't totally sucky lol..

ANYHOW CHAPTER 1 !! XD

Also out now:

Chapter 2 · Chapter 3 · Chapter 4

Story on other platforms:

AO3 · Quotev

________

sur·vive /sərˈvīv/ verb Continue to live or exist, especially in spite of danger or hardship. Similar: live · continue · remain · last · persist · endure · persevere · abide · linger · exist · be • continue to live or exist in spite of (an accident or ordeal). • remain alive after the death of (a particular person). • manage to keep going in difficult circumstances.

________

Darkness. Everywhere. Not just a lack of light, but the feeling of being lost and directionless, the great darkness that spread endlessly in every direction. And I was alone in it, unable to watch my step, I stumbled over my feet as I ran. Run. Run. RUN.

“MASTER!” The shout tore itself from my throat painfully as I shot up in bed, sweating and in a panic. Breathing heavily, I put a hand to my chest, feeling my heart pounding painfully rapidly. I tried to control my breathing as I blinked away tears, making my way to the refresher, the bright lights of Coruscant’s horizon making their way into the room through the window.

The shower helped calm me down and I got dressed in my tan and brown jedi robes, making my way to the balcony to meditate until sunrise.

Today the council would be informing me of their decision on my future. When I lost my master so close to being ready to take my tests to be knighted, the council was unsure of which path would be best for me. To assign me as a Padawan to a new master or to get me to take the tests early, neither seemed an easy option. I took a deep breath and let my mind quiet as I felt the force flow through and around me. Whatever may come would be for the best, I just had to keep my mind open and accept things as they were.

***

Standing there in front of the council, most of what was said passed around me in a haze. All of the comments on how what had happened was unfortunate, but the force willed it so, the comments on how it would make me a stronger Jedi to learn patience detachment and strength from this particular trial. While this was all true, I wasn’t in a place where I wanted to hear these words. I just wanted to know what their decision was so I could carry on without thinking about what happened.

“-so we believe that it would be best if you served under another Jedi master, not necessarily as his Padawan, but just to gain some more experience before you are ready to take the tests for your knighthood. And you would also be assisting him in leading his battalion and helping him plan strategies for key missions. This is a great opportunity, so I hope that you will make the best of it, and I’m sure you will, we have faith in you Nimra.”

“Thank you Master Windu,” I bowed my head to him respectfully. “Might I ask to which Jedi Master I am being assigned?”

At my question a half smile and a nearly playful twinkle appeared in the Master’s eye. “Anakin Skywalker. He is a very skilled Jedi, and things would certainly never be dull.”

I gave a slight smile in response and bowed once more to the council. “Thank you for the opportunity masters, I will do my best to make you proud.” With that I made my exit, sagging slightly once the door closed behind me.

Master Skywalker, huh? I had met him a few times with my previous master on certain missions, and Master Windu’s comment made perfect sense to me. Things would certainly be interesting, but I was just hoping to keep my head down and get through the next few months with him until I could take my tests.

***

He was late. This was a wonderful start. He was late, and he was arriving in an old trash pile of a ship, one that looked like it was found in a junkyard on an outer-rim moon somewhere. “Nimra!” He called my name joyfully as he made his way down the ramp with a small blue astromech and a young orange skinned Togruta following him.

“Master Skywalker.” I bowed my head respectfully and gave him a small smile.

“I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your master. He was a great Jedi Master and it’s truly a loss to the republic and the Jedi Order.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Of course. I’d like you to meet my Padawan, Ahsoka Tano, Snips this is Nimra Sayla.” I bowed my head to the padawan as well and she returned it with a smile. “Nimra will be joining us for a while, and we will be lucky to have her, I’ve fought on the battlefield with her, and she is a force to be reckoned with.”

“You’re too kind, Master.”

“You’re nearly knighted yourself Nim, stop calling me that would ya?” He laughed at my formality, and I gave a small chuckle myself.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Master – Master Diya thought highly of professionalism and formalities.” I kept the smile even though saying my old Master’s name caused a sharp stinging pain in my heart. Anakin put his hand on my shoulder and gave me an understanding smile, which I appreciated immensely.

“Well, we should get going if we’re going to make the rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.” Anakin turned to climb back up the ramp before the astromech gave a series of agitated beeps at the Jedi. “Oh, you’re right, how could I forget. This, is R2-D2.” He laughed as he introduced the droid to me, it beeping appreciatively and spinning it’s head around slightly.

“Hello R2-D2, it’s nice to meet you.” I gave the droid a grin as we all made our way into the ship, me biting my tongue as not to comment on how this junk pile would possibly make the trip through hyperspace.

***

“Home sweet home.” Anakin commented as we made our way into the hangar of his Jedi cruiser we had met up with.

“Welcome back, General.” A clone trooper with the blue paint of the 501st met us as we descended. He was holding his helmet under his left arm, and he had buzzed bleached hair, with no other specific markings unlike many clones who chose to tattoo themselves or get very unique haircuts to set them apart from their comrades. Of course, being someone with the force, I could feel the energy signatures within people rather than just seeing their outsides, and that had always helped keep track of the clones, who while they had the same DNA, each had their own very different and unique personalities. “I see we’ve picked up a new recruit?”

“Thank you, and yes, Captain Rex, meet Nimra Sayla.” Anakin introduced us, gesturing his hands between us before focusing on an information disc R2 was giving him.

“Nice to meet you General.” The Captain gave me a salute.

“Oh, no, not quite. I’m not actually a Jedi Knight yet.” I gave him a slightly sheepish smile.

“Ah, sorry about that Commander.”

“That’s quite alright.”

“You’re not a padawan but also not a knight yet?” Ahsoka inquired from beside me.

“Uh, no, not yet. My master, he died before I could take my tests, so I’m going to complete my remaining trainings here with you until I can take them.” I was acutely aware of the pity entering Ahsoka’s eyes, but thankfully the clone did not show that same emotion, rather just a slight understanding of my situation.

“Sorry to hear that Sir.” Rex said, still standing at attention.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.” Ahsoka said sweetly.

“It’s really okay, but thank you.”

“Alright, me and Ahsoka have to go prepare a debrief, and discuss how when I say ‘let’s go’, it means ‘let’s go’, and not ‘take your time Ahsoka’.” I chuckled at Anakin’s words.

“But Master, if I hadn’t stayed as long as we needed, we would’ve never gotten the information we needed!” She retorted, pointing at the disc in his hand.

“Yeah yeah, that’s not the point, Snips. Anyway, Rex, can you show Nimra around and to her quarters please?”

“Yes, of course Sir.” The captain saluted again and then turned to me as Anakin and Ahsoka walked away, still bickering.

“Are they always like that?” I asked, small smile still on my face.

“Yes Sir, for the most part.” His response made me turn to look at him in the eyes, serious expression taking over my features.

“I will do whatever it takes, whatever it takes, to get you to stop calling me that.” The moment he recognized my joking, some of his seriousness dissolved, and a small half smile appeared on his face.

“Whatever it takes?” He inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“I will personally make the trip to the end of the galaxy and back, on THAT scrap pile, with an agitated blurrg as my copilot, just to get you to stop calling me ‘sir’.” I pointed at Anakin’s ship behind me, serious expression never cracking even as I gained a full smile from the captain, which made my heart warm slightly.

“Well in that case, Commander.”

“That’s not any better!” I exclaimed, laughing as he grinned at me.

“Shall we begin the tour?” He offered, arm outstretched in the direction we would begin with.

“Yes, Captain.” My grin remained as he began to show me around. This will be interesting indeed.

[santakinard]

Eddie falling asleep with his head in Buck's lap or on his thigh as maybe Buck's looking down at him-? I don't know take it from pls. there

A/N: I know you completely forgotten about this prompt but I'm still sorry it's taken me so long lol.

That being said, thank you so much for the prompt anyways :)

ao3 version here

----

"Are you okay?" Buck asked as Eddie wiggled ever so slightly in his seat for what felt like the millionth time. 

"I'm fine." Eddie answered also for the millionth time. 

The blond rolled his eyes. This was getting out of hand. 

"Eddie." He gave his best friend, who was stubbornly staring ahead and pretending to watch the cartoon that Christopher had enthusiastically picked, a pointed look before sofly kicking his ankle. 

The other man jerked and swivelled his head to meet Buck's gaze. "Hey, what was that for?"

"Eds, you're hurting." 

Eddie huffed a quick, "I'm fine." 

Before he could protest Christopher chimed in from his current spot on the floor against the couch that he moved to earlier after being tired of bumping into his dad whenever they moved at the same time. "Daaaaad." He started to say before letting out an exasperated sigh that made him seem like an actual teenager and not just a pre-teen. "You're hurt."

Eddie opened his mouth to protest but then closed it before letting out a sigh of defeat. "My shoulder is just aching a little from sitting on the couch for too long. It's not that big of a deal."

Both Buck and Chris shared a long-suffering look, used to the older Diaz's stubbornness but still a little exasperated from having to deal with it more frequently the past few weeks. Although, they'd didn't complained because as long as Eddie was still alive that was all that mattered. 

"Eds," Buck began to tell him in a soft voice, "do you need to lay down?"

It was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm fine." He repeated with emphasis. "I've been in that damn bed enough these past few weeks to last a lifetime."

"Eddie." Buck told him sternly, knowing that if Eddie was showing discomfort and talking about his shoulder bothering him then it must've really been hurting him and he didn't want his best friend to exasperate the wound and hurt even more.

"Buck." Eddie mocked.

"Donkey!" Christopher exclaimed, breaking the tension. 

The two men blinked at each other, looked at the ten year old who started to giggle, then looked back at each other before starting to laugh as well. 

After a few moments of laughter, Buck let out a soft sigh. "Eddie, I'm serious. If you need to, I can help you to bed."

His best friend gave him a fond smile which wasn't until recently that Buck had realized the full effect it had on him. "I know. And thank you for caring, like you always do. But it's almost Chris' bedtime anyways and I want to spend as much time with you guys out here as possible."

Buck sighed, always ending up giving in to Eddie. It had taken his best friend getting shot for him to realize exactly why he had that effect on Buck. "I know you do." He said ever so softly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so overbearing. It's just..." He paused. 

"We worry about you." Christopher finished for him, patting his father's leg as he gave him a serious look. 

Eddie smiled down at his son. "I don't want you to worry, Mijo. That's my job."

"But dad, we do worry. It's what family does."

Eddie's smile brightened. "Well when you put it that way..." He then began to tickle his son, who's giggles echoed happily throughout the living room. 

However, the older Diaz could only tickle for a second or so before wincing in pain, although he did a pretty good job of hiding it. But Buck could tell how much his best friend was hurting. He always could. 

"Okay, that's it." Buck announced, moving closer to the end of the couch until his left side hit the arm. He then patted his thigh. "Come on."

Eddie's eyes widened ever so slightly, making Buck realize the innuendos that motion caused. 

He then cleared his throat. "Lay your head on my lap." 

Yeah that didn't sound quite better either. 

Buck then quickly added. "So you can finish the movie with me and Chris and be at least somewhat more comfortable."

Eddie gave him that small yet fond smile once more, eyes slightly widened as he looked at him in what seemed to be in awe. 

The blond shifted in his seat. "What?"

His best friend cleared his throat. "Nothing." His eyes then fell toward Buck's lap before travelling back to meet his gaze. "Are you sure?"

Buck rolled his eyes before patting his thigh again. "Of course. Come on, we're missing all the good parts."

Eddie's smile widened as he proceeded to lay down on the couch, his back against the cushions as his head tilted slightly to see the movie. 

Trying to help him be as comfortable as possible, Buck went to delicately rest his arm around Eddie's side so his bad shoulder could have more support. 

They surprisingly got settled in comfortable positions rather quickly as Christopher gave them a bright smile before turning his attention back on the tv and proceeding to rewind the little bit that they missed.

They watched the cartoon in a peaceful silence besides the laughter coming from all three of them at different points. It didn't take long for Buck to subconsciously begin to to rub small, soothing circles on Eddie's arm with one hand and softly run his fingers through Eddie's hair in the other. 

His best friend hitched a breath at first at the touch, which made Buck about to stop his small movements. But before he could, Eddie sunk further in the blond's hold, and let out a moan of contentment. 

"Hmmm. That's nice." He muttered, shifting his head ever so slightly so he could softly rub his nose against Buck's thigh, like a cat who was enjoying a head rub. 

And wow, okay. This was new. 

Though Buck could add it up to the list of small yet new and slightly alarming - but in a good way - things that Eddie had done since coming home from the hospital.

For a man who had gotten shot in broad daylight and almost… died, Eddie had surprisingly been... lighter in a way.

Even while he was struggling with dealing with having to only use one arm and needing other's help since Eddie always had a hard time asking for help. But at least with Buck he had been more open about it, more willing to tell the blond what he needed. Even though there were still plenty of times where Buck had to guess and not be told Eddie's needs, like just a few minutes prior. 

But, whenever Eddie would ask Buck for help and the blond immediately said "Of course" or when Buck gave him exactly what he needed at the moment without being asked, no matter what Eddie would always give him that fond smile. 

Buck had noticed it before that fateful day, but there was something about those fond looks that sorta...grew afterwards. A certain openness that always took his breath away. 

And then of course there were those lingering touches that Eddie had given him countless of times as well. 

Sure, Buck had been helping him with his PT exercises so of course they'd be touching a lot. But it wasn't just then. Like whenever Buck would hand Eddie something and their fingers would graze each other. Or whenever Eddie needed to walk pass Buck and his hand would press on his back for a moment. It was used to be where the touch would only last a milisecond but now it'd just linger there for a few secondw too long. In fact, whenever they'd accidentally touch - and that had been happening a lot in these past few weeks - Eddie would always just… linger there. And whenever he'd finally move away, he didn't look bashful or embarrassed or anything like that. No. He'd just give Buck this lingering, secretive smile that always made his stomach flutter, before going back to what he was doing and acting like he didn't just almost give Buck a heart attack with all of the palpitations that he caused. 

However, Buck would just try to tell himself that he was just overreacting and that it was just because his feelings for his best friend had been present more than ever and hard to keep in since the incident. That Eddie had always acted like that because they were best friends and close and that was what they did. Nothing changed except Buck temporarily moving in to help out which made everything seem more intimate than it really was. 

That was it. Nothing less. Nothing more. 

Well...besides the fact that Eddie had apparently put Buck in his will as Christopher's guardian if something were to happen to him. A fact that Eddie had kept to himself for a year. Something that Buck may or may not still be reeling from during these past few weeks. Especially as he and the Diaz boys had fallen into this somewhat domestic bubble that Buck kept trying to convince himself that it was just temporary as Eddie recovered. 

And it worked. For the most part. 

However, it had been more and more difficult for Buck to convince himself of it when it came to moments like his current one. 

With the way Eddie didn't second guess to lay on Buck's lap after getting the okay and proceeding to sink further into the touch. Eddie's little moans and noises of contentment as Buck continued his gentle movements. 

And...did Eddie's lips just gently graze the skin on Buck's thigh where his shorts rode up?

That...that had to be a mistake right? 

Because, sure, there had been moments here and there where it really felt like they were gonna kiss before one or both of them pulled away. But, again, this was all mostly likely in Buck's head. 

Right?

Daring to look down at Eddie, he noticed how his eyes were now closed as his breathing had gotten more even. It seemed like Eddie had fallen asleep, looking more peaceful than Buck had seen him in a long time. 

His heart was beating loudly in his chest, as his stomach tightened while every fiber in his being lightened up like they were on fire. Buck hitched a breath. He couldn't take it. His love for his best friend encompassed him. 

Every night he had nightmares of that day. Of the absolutely devastating fear of losing Eddie. Buck had never been more terrified in his life. But it were moments like this current one where Buck thanked the universe with everything he had that Eddie was here. That he was alive and breathing. That even after getting shot and dealing with the traumatizing struggle of his recovery, Eddie still seemed lighter. More open and sure of himself in a certain vulnerability that Buck had never seen on him before. Like a certain puzzle piece had clicked. And even when there were days where Eddie had been frustrated and angry and just flat out stubborn with his recovery, that lightness had still somehow been there, keeping him grounded. 

Eddie was alive. Eddie was getting better. And as he did, Buck was going to continue to be with him as much as possible. 

And even though his recovery was going to take a long time between the physical therapy and his therapy for his PTSD, and it was still gonna be a long and hard road, there were still moments where Eddie was happy. Happier than Buck had seen him in a long time even. 

Moments like these where it was just Eddie, Buck, and Christopher, being together. 

And Buck? Buck could live in these moments forever. As long as he had Eddie and Christopher then he'd be okay. 

At that thought he looked away from the sleeping man in his lap to check on Chris. The kid was now laying on the soft carpet, head on one of the couch pillows, now fast asleep just like his dad. 

His two Diaz boys. Who had both gone through so much more than anyone should in a lifetime and now were both sleeping happily, with small smiles both on their faces. 

Buck's heart clenched in his chest.

Now this? This was what pure happiness felt like. 

He then looked back down at the soft expression on Eddie's face as his best friend slept soundly. 

Buck couldn't take it anymore. 

Sure this was a very bad idea, but his heart felt like it was going to rip out of his chest. His love for the best friend he'll ever have was just too much. 

And so, in a moment of weakness, Buck leaned his head down and kissed Eddie's forehead, lingering there for a few seconds or so before whispering in a hushed tone, "I love you."

Eddie's head shifted ever so slightly which made Buck immediately rip his hand away. 

His best friend's eyes slowly fluttered open before meeting his gaze. 

And there it was. That fond look yet again. But this time it was brighter than Buck had ever seen it before.

Eddie smiled up at him, "I love you too."

And just like that Buck finally knew what that missing puzzle piece Eddie had seemed to find. Because he was now feeling it too as everything fell into place.

Not being able to contain himself anymore, Buck leaned down and placed a small yet emotional-filled kiss on Eddie's lips. His best friend returned the kiss with as much vigor. 

After Buck lifted his head up ever so slightly, he placed his forehead against Eddie's as they smiled softly at each other. 

Yeah, he could get used to this.

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Coming Out to Steve as Bisexual:

A/N: Here’s (hopefully) the first installment of a sort-of series that I like to call the Imagine Pride Series. I don’t know how many I’ll get done this Pride Month since I’m starting it sort of in the middle of the month but if people end up liking it and I get enough ideas/requests for it, I’ll continue it and maybe it’ll become an annual thing until I’ve done a billion characters or get bored of it, lol. Anyway, this first one ended up being very personal for me, which I definitely didn’t intend, but... yeah, lol. Also, this series will be filled to the brim with my personal LGBTQ+ headcanons for Marvel characters, so if that’s not your thing, steer clear. Anyway, enjoy!

Word count: 2,477

Warnings: Coming out anxiety. Use of the Q-slur (reclaiming) and one F-bomb.

Masterlist

Ko-Fi Shoppe

~~~

    You were in your bedroom getting prepared for lounge time before bed—and psyching yourself up—when you thought you heard the front door open through your apartment’s paper-thin walls. You grabbed your phone and turned down the music playing from your Bluetooth speaker; the current song was Janelle Monáe’s “I Like That”, from the Queer Confidence playlist that you’d built for this specific event. Taking a deep breath and giving yourself one more good look in the mirror attached to your closet door, eyeing the to-go bag you had packed with essentials and left ready to grab on the bed, you listened to the jingle of keys as they were dropped onto the table by the door. The sound was quickly followed by a voice.

    “[Y/N]?” Steve half-hollered, and you heard the sounds of movement as he made his way to the hall. His voice got softer as he got closer. “Baby?”

    You gave yourself a shake and patted your face with your hands before answering. “Bedroom!”

    Even though the two of you had been living together for well over a year, he still knocked and waited politely outside until you gave him explicit permission to enter. When he did, he immediately gravitated towards you. He casually looked over you, in your pajama pants and baggy cropped sweatshirt, as he strolled over, and seeing the slightest furrow of his brows made your stomach churn. Steve Rogers wasn’t too bad at reading people but he was always able to read you like a book and you immediately knew that he noticed how tense you were.

    Apparently, he also noticed that you were trying to keep your cool and act normal because he didn’t immediately jump into Worried Eyebrows Rogers. Instead, he decided to give you some time to sort yourself out and opted to simply hug you from behind. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, his warm breath gave you goosebumps as he mumbled a soft, “Hi.”

    You almost forgot about your plan as you melted back into his arms. “Hi,” you replied just as softly as you leaned your head to rest on top of his. You allowed yourself to close your eyes and place your hands on his, slowly run your hands up and down his forearms; you tried to take everything in just in case this was the last time you would be held by him. The solidness of the chest you leaned against, the sturdiness of his footing even as you put your full weight against him because, in reality, your body weight was like carrying a loaf of bread to the super-soldier. The curve of veins and muscle across his arms, the dampness of his hair under your cheek that was probably caused by his evening run despite the rain happening at the time. The faded smell of the 2-in-1 shampoo-conditioner that Steve used despite your complaining, the much warmer body heat than any normal person that was like being wrapped in a heated blanket during the wintertime but being suffocated in a sauna during the summer, that currently bled into you and wrapped you into a comforting cocoon.

    You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been standing like that in silence but it was long enough for Steve to decide that it was Worried Eyebrows time. He slowly raised his head again and when you opened your eyes again, he was watching you carefully in the mirror. He wore a dark navy T-shirt that was just tight enough to outline the muscular form underneath—with the help of Thor and Asgardian booze early on in your relationship, you’d gotten a blushing and giggly drunk Steve to admit that he purposely wore clothes like it because he enjoyed the attention, just a smidge—and a pair of black joggers that you got him for Christmas a few months ago.

    “Are you okay?” Worried Rogers finally asked when he realized you weren’t going to speak first. He kept eye contact with you via the mirror, which almost hurt to hold on your end, as he pressed a light kiss against your temple and then a second one to your cheek. “You called me home early. Said it was something that couldn’t wait?”

    And now I don’t want to say it at all, you thought as you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth. After hesitating for a bit longer—a few seconds or a half-hour, you couldn’t tell through your anxious haze—you sighed and said, “We need to talk.”

    “What, it’s not like you’re leaving me or something, are you?” Steve questioned. The quirk of his brows and a brief smile that appeared told you that he was joking but when you didn’t even chuckle or tease him back, that smile quickly reversed into a frown. “That’s not what’s happening here, is it?”

    “Well…” you mumbled, then trailed off. You glanced towards the bed, where your emergency-leave bag sat waiting, and when you looked back at Steve’s reflection, he was staring at the bag with worry lines etched deep into his skin. “That’s up to you.”

    “Hold on.” Steve moved from behind to stand in front of you, although it was only briefly as he took your hands tightly in his and led you to sit on the edge of the bed with him. He glanced at the bag again, the lines on his face grew deeper again, and you were suddenly reminded of his true age. He looked you in the eye again. “[Y/N], talk to me.”

    “Ours” by Taylor Swift played quietly in the background as you tried to untangle your thoughts and make your mouth work again. The song wasn’t a Pride song or by an LGBTQ+ artist but something about it just fit so well. As you tried to recall the speech you’d been practicing all day, then decided to throw it out altogether, Taylor sang, “So don’t you worry your pretty little mind / People throw rocks at things that shine / And life makes love look hard…”

    “Steve, I…” Your tongue seemed to tie itself in a knot whenever you tried to say it. 

    Steve’s worried, borderline scared, look turned soft. The gentle Worried Eyebrows were back and his thumbs caressed the backs of your hands so softly that it felt like he thought you’d shatter at any minute. He pressed another, stronger kiss against your forehead and mumbled, “You know you can tell me anything.”

    Steve was one of the kindest, most welcoming, most understanding people you’ve ever known but there was still something intimidating about telling him. Normally, you couldn’t fathom him reacting poorly to anything that you could have said but now, you couldn’t help remembering the fact that he was a masculine, old-fashioned, soldier—a soldier from the ’40s—who was still the Ideal American Man to a lot of people, especially some rather unsavory people, and to your knowledge, Steve didn’t have any other queer people in his life that were close to him. Maybe he didn’t want any. Maybe he didn’t like them, like many people who idolized him don’t like them. 

    A little spark of anger sparked in the dark void of anxiety that you were feeling. It wasn’t fair that people hated people like you simply for existing and as much as you loved Steve, if he held the same sentiments, you definitely didn’t want to be with him. The spark quickly turned into a raging fire and suddenly you were blurting out what you’d struggled to say all day, all month, ever since you’d discovered yourself.

    “Steve, I’m bi.”

    Steve stared at you for a bit, then blinked. “What?”

    You took a breath and squared your shoulders. It wasn’t any easier to say it a second time, but you managed in what you hoped was a confident voice, “I’m bisexual.”

    Steve blinked again and his head tilted slightly to the side, but otherwise didn’t move much. “Okay.”

    “O… Okay.” You echoed. You felt your cheeks grow warm.

    Slowly, a relieved smile appeared on Steve’s face and you watched as the tension in his entire posture relaxed. “Was that what you wanted to tell me? You wanted to come out as bisexual?”

    Your face grew heated still and you glanced away. You pulled your sweaty hands from Steve’s and wiped them on your pant legs as you stammered, “Y… Yeah, I mean, yes.” You picked at the fraying hem of your shirt for a few moments, then looked back at your boyfriend—to see that he was absolutely glowing. “You don’t care?”

    “No, of course not,” Steve said, only to quickly shake his head and backtrack, “I mean, of course, I do! I care because it’s you and your identity. I just— It’s just not what I was expecting at all.”

    It was your turn to stare at him. Now you just felt a little silly. “What were you expecting?”

    Steve looked past you to the bag sitting on the other side of you and his expression saddened a bit. He took your hand tightly in his own and squeezed them as he looked at you again. “What were you?”

    “Uh…” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze, “Well, I guess… I don’t know…”

    “[Y/N],” Steve said more sternly, “you don’t have to sugarcoat it. I’m a grown man; I can handle it.”

    “A grown man who was America’s Sweetheart in the ‘40s,” you pointed out. “I had a right to be worried.”

    Steve nodded slowly. “No, of course, you did. I understand. You know I’m okay with it, though, right? I’ve made that clear, right? I’m proud of you and I’m grateful that you told me. Glad that you felt safe enough to tell me, even if you were still worried about it. You know that, right?”

    Kesha’s “Raising Hell” played in the background as you scrubbed your eyes with your sweatshirt sleeves, gave Steve a dumb-feeling nod. Of course, you knew Steve wouldn’t care.

    Steve took you in a tight hug as you tried to shake away the tears burning at the corners of your eyes. He ran a hand over your hair and gently rocked the two of back and forth in true, calming, Worried Eyebrows Rogers fashion. After a bit, when he felt you finally relaxing, he murmured against your hair, “I love you, you know? All of you. Because you’re you.”

    You felt your cheeks warm again and you nodded against his chest. “I love you too.”

    The two of you continued to sit like that for a while until Steve suddenly hummed thoughtfully. He slowly released you and you let him go, he sat back on his hands and chewed the inside of his cheek. 

    You watched him curiously as he glanced around the room, thinking. “What?”

    “You know, I…” Now he trailed off, glanced at you before his gaze darted away again and he chewed his cheek again. “I… Now I know this isn’t my information to share but Buck’s always been pretty uncaring about it, I guess.”

    Your brows furrowed. “Buck? Like, Bucky-Buck? Our Bucky.”

    Steve chuckled. “Yeah, our Bucky.”

    “What about Bucky?”

    Steve hesitated again but eventually continued, “I had almost the exact same conversation with him before he left for the war.”

    Your eyes widened. “Wait— Bucky?”

    Steve nodded slowly again and his gaze finally settled on you again. “Bi too. Coincidence, huh? He was lucky, sort of. Says he always knew. Obviously not super open, given the time, but he was never ashamed of it or anything.” He paused and briefly glanced away again before continuing. “I still don’t know.”

    You blinked. “Don’t know what?”

    Steve just stared at you, cheeks tinting pink as he waited for you to put the pieces together.

    “Wait, you’re queer?”

    Steve shook his head quickly. “Or something. But I don’t like that word. Power to anyone who uses it positively but I was around when it wasn’t.”

    “Right,” you said, still dumbfounded, “Sorry. Yeah, I won’t use it for you then. Hang on; you’re not straight then?”

    Steve chewed his lip and gave you the cutest bashful smile that you’d ever seen on such a large man; you could almost see the scrawny, sickly, pre-serum Steve sitting in front of you.

    “I’m offended,” he softly quipped.

    You stared at him a bit longer. Then you burst into laughter. Steve chuckled along with you, watched you with a growing smile as you fell back onto the bed in a giggling fit. Eventually, you calmed down, wiping tears that you weren’t sure were completely from laughing and staring up at the bedroom ceiling. “My gaydar’s fucked, dude.”

    This time Steve laughed and he collapsed back onto the bed with you. Then he grabbed you, wrapping his arms tightly around your back as he rolled over with you so that you were laying on top of him.

    “Well, like I said,” he said, watching you, “I don’t know.”

    “Well, you kind of know, though,” you replied, “right?”

    Steve tilted his head a bit, then nodded. “Kind of.”

    “So… what?”

    “What?”

    You shrugged and grinned. “I don’t know. What are you into? What do you think you are? Like, I uh… I like girls. And guys. And everything in between and outside.”

    “I thought that was pansexual or something?”

    “For some people it is. For some people, bi is only girls and only guys. I tried pan, omni, a few others, but bi was what I always came back to. Bi just… fits.”

    Steve sighed and stared past you at the ceiling again. “See, I just think there’s too much information. I’m too old. Get confused easily.” 

    You snorted and snickered as he flashed a smile at you. “Some people don’t do any of it, you know. Labels and stuff, I mean. They’re just kinda like ‘I like this and all there it is to it.’ No label, just them and love. Couldn’t be me but it works for other people.”

    Steve nodded again and after a minute said, “I just like people.”

    You smiled at him. “Okay.”

    He looked at you. “I really like you.”

    The smile slowly turned into a grin. “Oh yeah?”

    Steve smiled back and held you tighter against him. “I like you a lot.”

    “Well, well, Mr. Rogers—”

    “Captain,” he grumbled under his breath, “but it’s fine.”

    “Captain Rogers,” you corrected as you slinked up to lean over him. You took his face in your hands and leaned so close that your noses bumped together. “I like you a lot too.”

    Steve leaned in the rest of the way to kiss you and you kissed him back. Despite the teasing, the kiss was soft and sweet, and when he pulled away from you, the way he looked at you full of love was just as sweet.

    “Love you,” he said.

    “I love you too.”