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writerpeach · 3 years ago

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Pet - Part Two

IZ*ONE Yena x Male Reader

length: 3894 words

categories: smut, kitten!yena, brat taming, rough sex

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part one

"I wanna go home!"

Complaints from Yena were as common as the sun rising. Thankfully, they were easily ignored. It wasn't even your idea to be at a shopping mall on a busy Saturday afternoon, but Yena insisted on wanting new clothes, despite the fact her closet was filled to the brim with them.

"You wanted to be here, didn't you?" you asked, trying to hold back your frustration. It hadn't been more than an hour since Yena dragged you out of the house, yet here she was, dying to leave, like you had forced her to stay here.

"Not this store! It's tacky and too expensive. I hate it here." Pouty lips always paired with rolled eyes. It was Yena’s trademark.

But you didn't mind the place. Expensive? Perhaps, but you liked the selection, and the way the clothes fit you. "We'll leave in a little bit. I need some more shirts for work. Be patient."

"I don't wanna!" Yena said in a higher-pitched voice. She didn't understand the concept of patience. It was a purposeful ploy to put you on edge—maybe she genuinely didn't like the store, but you doubted it. Testing your limits was her forte.

"Yena…"

"What?" she smugly asked. Instead, you ignored her, moved to a different rack of clothes and focused your energy elsewhere. Not that it mattered. Yena followed your every move. Like a shadow on a sunny day, she never left your side.

"Just let me shop in peace. The more you complain, the longer I’m going to take.” The perfect counter to a whiny Yena. Or so you thought. Yena always upped the ante.

“But it’s so boring here!” Yena said as she stomped her feet and invaded your personal space once again, standing directly in front of you, and blocked any attempt to browse. “Take me home, master.”

Yena’s unexpected use of your pet name in the bedroom hit you like a punch to the gut. She was an expert at pushing buttons, and she had just pushed the biggest one. “Yena, don’t start,” you said, grabbing her wrist. Yet another mistake that only encouraged her, if the devilish smirk or her face was anything to go on.

“What’s the matter, master? Don’t you want me to suck your cock?” After a quick head tilt, Yena dropped to her knees, uncaring if anyone watched her antics.

“Yena, what the fuck are you doing? Get up,” you ordered. But Yena knew exactly what she was doing. Shameless she was, on her knees in the middle of a clothing store, but she didn’t care—she wanted to cause a scene as she cupped your crotch before you swatted her hand away.

“Yena, stop.” You didn’t want to deal with this today, but Yena was in a defiant mood. She certainly didn’t care.

“Or what? What will you do to me, master? Punish me?” Yena taunted. You let out a frustrated deep sigh and grabbed her delicate wrists in a wasted effort to bring her back up.

“No, I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not? Too scared to punish me?”

“Not in public. Because that’s exactly what you want.” You gritted your teeth to try and calm your nerves. Yena reluctantly stayed kneeling, still defiant, and still unwavering.

“But, master…Don’t you want your pet to suck your cock?” she repeated.

“Not. Here. Get up, pet.” The tone of your commanding voice got Yena to drop her act. But not without one last act of rebellion.

When Yena rose to her feet, she took a careful look around the store, grabbed the top of her white dress, and pulled it down, flashing her tits for all to see. You immediately saw red.

“Yena!” You hated giving in, but there wasn’t much to do. There were too many people around and you didn’t want to suddenly be kicked out. After pulling her top back up, you grabbed her hand, and forcefully pulled her out of the store, away from prying eyes.

“Fine, you little shit. You want to be punished? Then be careful what you wish for.” Yena couldn’t help but let out a smile so big it made her cheeks hurt.

✦✦

Yena couldn’t be happier about what she had done. It would be a short-lived victory for sure, as you sat on the couch and pondered what to do with her. A punishment was in order of course, but how severe—that was all up to her.

“Strip,” you ordered in a stern voice. Yena hesitated and avoided your fiery gaze. “I said, strip. Now, pet.”

Whenever Yena lost the use of her name, she knew she had taken things too far. She reluctantly did what you asked, unzipped her white dress, and let it fall to the ground. Beautiful and topless, Yena stood proud, but as always, she took her time with her hands on her hips, and you grew too impatient.

“Keep going.”

“Nuh-uh. Make me.”

Yena was in striking distance, so you pulled her onto the couch, then bent her over your lap in the middle of the couch, and yanked her black lace panties down to her ankles. No collar on her neck—she didn’t deserve it, that was for good pets only.

“Fucking brat,” you hissed. Your temper had calmed down, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t go easy on her.

“May I be punished now, master?” Yena pleaded. Without the pressure of making a scene in public, you had her at your mercy, and soothingly caressed the small of her bare back. Then you moved back to the curves of her plump ass and gave both soft cheeks a squeeze. It would be the last time you would be this gentle. “Yes, pet. Need this pretty little ass nice and red.”

“Please, master. Want it to hurt.” Yena would regret those words. Fingertips traced the supple flesh of her backside, enough contact to tease and nothing else, and dragged out the anticipation. When enough silence filled the room, you raised your palm high in the air, then snapped it back down and gave her the first of many spanks. Yena let out a breathy gasp, and it stung enough to force Yena’s nude body forward.

It was only the beginning. You spanked her again, this time hard enough to see your red handprint on her rippling asscheek. The third spank was less harsh—you rubbed the sting out, before you squeezed the sore flesh and gave much harder back-to-back slaps in a harsh repeated rhythm. Yena tensed up in anticipation.

But Yena enjoyed it too much. This was supposed to be a punishment, but she couldn’t hide her arousal—she was dripping juices down her luscious thighs. The only thing to do was up the ante, and when you switched cheeks, you spanked her much harder, as the satisfying smack of flesh filled your eardrums.

Yena’s cheeks were beet red, and you had no intention of stopping. Back and forth between cheeks you spanked, turning red flesh redder, until she was reduced to tears. "Have you learned your lesson yet?" you asked. Fingers teased her wet folds, while you let her catch her breath.

"N-no, need more, master. I've been a bad girl," Yena said between sniffles.

"You have. You've been a naughty little slut." More harsh spanks at a rapid-fire pace on her tender, reddened skin. This was barely a punishment, and you needed a different approach.

"Up against the wall. Get on your knees.”

"Y-yes, master." Yena climbed off your lap, slipped her panties off, and made her way to the nearest wall, kneeling with her back and head flat against the wall, and obediently folded her hands in her lap. Meanwhile, you quickly undressed, leaving clothes in a pile, and grabbed your belt from the loops of your pants.

When you approached Yena, she licked her lips at the sight of your freed, hardened cock that was now at eye level. "Arms up, kitten," you ordered, with belt in hand. Yena wasn’t sure what to expect, but still obeyed immediately, and lifted her arms up above her head. First, you held her arms together, then used your leather belt to loop around her delicate wrists, and bound them tight.

“Don’t move unless I give you permission.” Yena nodded frantically. Her arms might get tired, but you didn’t care. Awed by her beauty, you tilted Yena’s chin up, and stroked your cock to the view of her gorgeous naked body. Those lips of hers were so sexy that you couldn’t help yourself and slapped your rock hard cock against them. So pillowy soft, so perfect for the sloppy blowjobs she loved giving.

Yena instinctively opened her mouth, parted her pouty lips, and slowly sucked your tip.

“Needy pet. Did I give you permission to suck my cock?” you asked. Yena shook her head with her lips wrapped around your cock, but she didn’t stop—nor did you want her to. But you also wouldn’t let her have control.

“Sorry, master.”

“No, you’re not.” You let Yena suck you off for a little more, until you grabbed her head, placed your hands on either side of her head, and began fucking her pretty mouth. Moans left your mouth as you thrusted between Yena’s silky lips. Her wet mouth felt so warm, so perfect for pleasuring your throbbing cock that you needed to pull back for a moment, just to watch her drool spill from her needy mouth.

“Master tastes so good. Wanna make master feel so good, please use my throat,” Yena begged, and opened her mouth back up. Several times you slapped your cock against her pink tongue, before returning it inside, and resumed your harsh pistoning.

“Such a good little toy. Do you like being nothing but a warm mouth for me to fuck?” Yena couldn’t answer, of course, not with every inch shoved down her heavenly throat and gagged on your length. Watery eyes returned, more tears spilled down her round eyes and smeared her mascara. But it wasn’t enough—you needed more, and the way Yena looked up at you agreed.

Soon, Yena’s gorgeous face grew stained with dark tears, and spit poured out of her wet, messy lips. She kept her mouth wide open for you, to vigorously use the back of the throat, like the most useful fleshlight money could never buy. Yena’s pale skin became doused with sweat, and her large breasts became blemished with messy, warm saliva. It would be the perfect lube for a rough titfuck, if you could leave the slick warmth of her tight throat.

Yena was overwhelmed at first—she was used to holding your thighs for support, or slipping fingers into her wet cunt, but being stationary was a different experience. It all became second nature to serve as a toy, a vessel for pleasure, a mouth to be freely used.

And you never stopped—one repetitive thrust after another, while constant loud sloppy gags and sinful slurps fueled your primal desires. Yena’s tear-filled eyes urged you to keep using her wet, hungry mouth without mercy, keeping her pretty head in your hands, while you frantically fucked her face with only concern for your pleasure.

That pleasure quickly skyrocketed. Just the sight of Yena’s ruined makeup along with her messy spit-stained lips that you carelessly thrusted between lit a fire inside you. Yena’s gag reflex acted up more than usual, but she took every inch with pleasure, watery eyes looking up as she gagged, choked, and drooled over every inch stuffed down her throat.

“Kitten takes my cock so well. Gonna fucking cum.”

Yena’s teary eyes lit up as she gurgled on your cock, stuck her tongue out, and licked whatever hard shaft she could. If her mouth wasn’t jammed with your length, you would have loved hearing her whine and beg for your load.

Too much pleasure at once was hard to handle. It was time to drain your balls down Yena’s throat.

It took one final round of thrusts, until you looked into her lustful eyes, grabbed the back of head with a harsh grip, then buried her face into your crotch and unloaded. It was an intense climax that couldn’t be matched. Yena dripped down her thighs as you filled her heavenly mouth with hot, thick cum, and she almost immediately choked with how much poured down her throat.

Eventually, it overflowed out of the corners of her used lips. Yena tried to swallow it all, she desperately tried to lick up what escaped out, but ultimately it was too much to contain, and it spilled down her chin and breasts.

What a beautiful mess Yena was. She continued sucking your cock after you unloaded, her talented tongue licked and sucked your cock clean, and after she swallowed what you deposited in her mouth, always eager for more.

“Master tastes so good.”

Yena licked her lips, and you untied her wrists, allowing her to stroke your cock freely. You caressed her cheek, and she stuck her pink tongue out, displaying your load was now in her belly.

"Good girl." Yena nuzzled her face into your palm, the praise sending her over the moon. "Not done with you, kitten. Ready for more?" Yena eagerly nodded. She couldn't wait for what was next.

"Bedroom," you ordered. Yena smiled and gingerly walked down the hallway.

Moments later, Yena sat herself on your lap on the edge of the bed, legs wrapped around your waist. She always looked amazing naked. Creamy thighs, full breasts, and voluptuous hips, Yena had it all, the body of a goddess. And tonight, that body was going to be a literal canvas.

"Tell me," you said, kissing her collarbone in several places. Yena whined, still with mascara stains on her features. "What are you?"

"Your pet!"

"Be more specific."

Yena paused, carefully choosing her answer. "Master's fucktoy. My body is always available for use, for master to do anything you please."

You had taught her well. While you held a sharpie in your fingers, you uncapped it, and wrote 'Master's fucktoy' words above just under her collarbone, above her delicious breasts. Yena gasped, but giggled as the tip of the marker pressed against her bare skin. "What else?"

Before she answered, you made her moan by sucking on her tits, and nibbled on her sensitive pink nipples with much fervor. "Ah! I-I'm...your cumdump! I love when master fills my mouth, my pussy, and my tight little asshole with your thick creamy loads. My holes are always ready to milk master’s enormous cock.

Yena always looked happy talking about her devotion to being a toy. After one more tasty slurp of her swollen nipples, you wrote 'cumdump' in large, extravagant letters on her tight tummy. "Anything else? "

"Nope," Yena cheekily said, furiously shaking her head with a gloating grin. You wrote ‘brat’ on one thigh, ‘cocksucking slut’ on the other, and ‘cum here’ just above her waxed crotch with a large arrow pointing downwards towards her pussy.

“All true!” Yena said.

“Ready to be ruined?”

“Yes, master!” Yena squirmed with impatience. You leaned in, gave Yena a kiss, then grabbed her succulent, still tender backside. In one swift motion, you lifted her up, spun around, and planted her down on the bed.

“You know how hard I’m going to fuck you, don’t you? Might have to buy a new bed after this.” A familiar smirk on your lips faded into a smile as you admired her naked curves underneath you, and the writing on her body that would stay put for at least the rest of the night.

Yena didn’t have to be told to spread her legs. They opened instinctively, letting you see her pink pussy, wet with arousal. “Please destroy my cunt, master. Wanna be sore when I wake up.”

“I’ll make you sore right now,” you said, grabbed the base of your cock, and lined it up with Yena’s pussy, teasing her wet folds with your swollen head.

“Please, master, please. Please fuck me like the whore I am,” Yena pleaded. It made you smile even wider, and you slapped your hard cock against her pussy, hitting her sensitive clit with the tip of your cock repeatedly. Yena whimpered and the wet smack of flesh made her lose her mind.

“Master…” Yena whined. Neither of you could wait, so you lined your cock up, and eased yourself into Yena’s pussy, sinking your tip into the hot, silky flesh. Yena felt heavenly—overflowing juices aided your thrusts, and there was no time for buildup. Full speed at the start was the plan as you pumped her hard and groaned at the slick tightness that gripped your throbbing shaft, bottoming her out with each pump of your hips.

"Ah, fuck! Master's cock is so big!” Yena moaned. Your immediate focus was her bouncing breasts that you squeezed, and played with her stiff, rosy nipples, pinching and pulling on them in opposite directions to spike her sensitivity.

Whimpering moans amplified as you slapped Yena’s amazing heavy mounds, and used your palm to smack the soft rippling flesh one at a time. Her clenching walls squeezed your cock after every slap, and you only went harder, repeatedly slapping her tits between rough pinches of her swollen nubs.

Yena cried out in pleasure, but quickly your thrusts became harsher, and your hips smacked into her warm flesh, while you continued playing with her now sore breasts.

“Fuck, master! Kitten feels so good, so full and stretched out. Harder, please!” You wouldn’t forget your promise of ruining Yena—your hips reached their full potential, and soon after the bed creaked to the rhythm of your body, reaching the very depths of her tight cunt, and she felt every powerful thrust in her gut.

Yena no longer had anything to say but a slur of profanities, and erotic moans from her pretty husky voice as you pounded away and fucked her delirious. She took it all so well. Every desperate cry, every loud moan just encouraged your rhythm to turn into feverish movements that surpassed the previous pace, until your bodies grew warm, and sweated profusely.

And you needed a taste more than anything. So during your most exhaustive motions, you lifted Yena’s slender arms and buried your tongue in her exposed armpit, licking the soft, velvety flesh clean.

It made Yena squirm, but inevitably she gasped in delight. “A-ah! Does kitten taste good?” Yena asked, moaning several times as your tongue roamed each of her delicious pits, lapping up all the sweat gathered.

“Kitten tastes delicious.” Yena’s sweaty body was a succulent meal to be feasted on. You took your time licking and sucking her yummy sweaty pits, but it was time to finish what you started and you couldn’t properly hit all the right spots in this position.

A little repositioning did the trick—you spread your legs wider, knees now on the mattress, but now you leaned forward, and tucked Yena’s legs up in the air, until they were on either side of your body. A mating press would do its name justice—the perfect position to pound Yena, to get unfettered access to her drenched pussy, and the perfect position to fill her needy womb with your much coveted seed.

After you locked eye contact, you doubled-down the pace and went wild, aggressively pounding Yena’s wet, warm hole, and slid to the base of your cock with ease, not stopping for anything.

“Oh my god, master is so deep!” Yena cried out, creaming herself on your cock with every plunge you took into her dripping wet heat. Higher-pitched moans meant Yena was thoroughly enjoying the plowing she was getting. Thanks to the closer position, the sounds of hot flesh smacking harder against hot flesh piped directly in your ears, while you made it your goal to absolutely wreck her soaked wanton hole.

“M-master, kitten is close! May I cum?” Yena asked, so close to sweet release she’d do anything to achieve it.

“Only if you beg like a good girl.”

Yena had no objections. “Please, master, pleasepleaseplease, may I cum? Pwease, master? My pussy needs it so bad after the pounding you’ve given me, please, master!”

You should have told her no after what she put you through earlier. But the adorable look on her pouty face couldn’t be ignored, nor could the tears of desperation.

“Cum for me, kitten,” you growled, while you leaned forward, and your hands cupped her small face. Yena then guided them downwards, towards her warm neck, silently begging to be choked.

Your hands looked better wrapped around her neck than any collar ever could.

With Yena’s airflow restricted, her tight cunt pulsated frantically, legs helplessly dangling in the air, and her toes curled as she screamed out in pleasure. And you didn’t let up, not faltering the pace for a single second, and let Yena take as much bliss as she needed, dripping and gushing over the raw, incessant pounding she was taking. Yena had never felt so wet. The sheets would definitely need to be changed when this was over.

“Th-thank, you m-master,” Yena whimpered, as she came down from the most intense orgasm she’d ever had, almost taking another climax because of your incessant drilling. You swore the bed would collapse at any moment, but you had no intention of stopping until you drained your balls fully inside of Yena.

“Hope you’re ready for me to fucking explode inside you, kitten. Gonna fill this pretty little cunt with the biggest load of my life.”

Yena nodded cutely, with teardrops raining down her eyes, too sensitive and intoxicated to do much, but let out tired whines and gasps. “Breed me, please breed me, master. Please fill kitten with cum, kitten needs to be bred so badly.“

Desperate pleas that left Yena’s needy lips only made you fuck her as hard as you could, with firm hands gripping her warm neck. Thankfully still readable, the word cumdump etched on her sweaty stomach rang the most true.

Nothing could put an end to the inevitable—unwavering hips pounded away, and finally you hit your peak. Taking one last downward plunge into the tightest, most obedient toy in existence, you burrowed your cock in the warm wet depths of Yena’s clinging wet hole, and fired viscous shots of thick, warm semen, that made you voice loud boisterous groans after each orgasmic throb.

At the end of it all, you filled Yena to the brim and didn’t stop pumping, pounding into her gooey warmth with whatever energy was leftover until you flooded her womb. Not a drop would escape her creamy little cunt.

“Kitten feels so full…it’s so warm, thank you, master,” Yena could barely speak.

You wished you had more cum to dump into Yena, but this would do. Exhausted gasps and pants became background noise as everything stopped. Regretfully, you withdrew from Yena one inch at a time, and a pool of your semen leaked out of her thoroughly used pussy.

“Kitten did so well.”

“Wanna be filled again by master, kitten wants more—” Yena trailed off, before she drifted off to sleep, the bliss and exhaustion too much. You weren’t far off, and collapsed on top, draping an arm on top and joined her.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad when Yena acted up, if this was how things ended up.

#izone smut #yena smut #izone #yena #reader insert #male reader

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piecksz · 4 years ago

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three’s a crowd | (m)

pairing: reiner x fem!reader x eren

warnings: nsfw, oral sex (female recieving), cuckolding, male masturbation, penetrative sex, voyeurism, slight degredation, slight angst, light mention of drugs, explicit language

summary: reiner’s attempt at hiding his attraction towards you fails, but lucky for him, eren’s feeling generous.

words: 4.6k

a/n: this was so much longer than i planned for.....well.....shit LMAOOO

a/n x2: I FORGOT TO ADD if you guys wanna listen to the song i looped like 47 fucking times while writing this, bc i feel like it fits reiner in this one shot kinda well, u can listen to recognize by partynextdoor (feat. drake) :p enjoy

Reiner hated Eren.

He hadn’t gone into living with someone he’d never met in person before with innumerable expectations, but he wasn’t banking on his roommate to be his polar opposite. He hated the sound of Eren’s riotous music into the early hours of dawn. He hated the unbearable malodor of his marijuana dependence, and he hated the way he carried himself with an intolerable air of arrogance, but as much as Eren’s living habits irritated him, it was the fact that Eren had you that presided over all of his grievances.

Being a witness to it made Reiner sick, knowing that you were leagues above Eren, and surely you deserved someone respectable, but somehow he’d charmed you into a long-term relationship, and Reiner wondered how he’d managed it. If by some miracle it had been up to him, Reiner speculated that he would be a viable match for you--that was if he had those sentiments for you--and he reassured himself he didn’t hold any promiscuous feelings towards his roommate’s girlfriend.

Yet it was hard for Reiner to rationalize the obscene thoughts that pervaded his mind at 2 AM. His clock displayed the time in bold red numbers, an indication that he should have been fast asleep, but you had decided to spend the night, and he already understood what that entailed.

The walls in their apartment were thin and did an insubstantial job of muting the noise that traveled between rooms. Reiner boasted the privilege of having his room right next to Eren’s, which meant he could hear everything that happened on the other side of the barrier. He heard every whimper, every groan, every time Eren praised you for taking him so well, and every time he admired how irresistible you looked while he fucked you from the back. The sound was so lucid he could count exactly how many rounds you guys had gone, and it was usually two, three if Eren hadn’t seen you in a while which was rare.

You two were hard to ignore, no matter how hard Reiner had tried, meaning he was also up late, listening while you two coupled. Your cries of stimulation, however, he didn’t mind as much. In truth, Reiner was always tempted to slip his hands into his pants and get himself off to the sound of your enticing whimpers, but he would discourage himself, deciding it was against his better judgement. Instead he would opt to cover his ears with his pillow, flipping over onto his side and dedicating his total effort to falling asleep.

Of course, Reiner had long established that he didn’t like you, but he swore he could make you feel better than Eren could.

It was around midday when Reiner returned to their apartment after committing his morning to helping his long-time friend, Pieck, pack up the furniture at her studio in preparation to move. They were halfway finished with stowing away Pieck’s belongings before she realized they didn’t have enough boxes and apologized, asking Reiner if he’d be willing to return the following day to help her load up her remaining things. He obliged, guiltily happy that he was being dismissed early.

Reiner kicked off his shoes and ambled into the kitchen to set down the food he secured on his way home, but he paused momentarily to scrutinize the condition of the living room, discerning Eren’s obvious trace.

The TV was on, but it sat idly, blinking images of some prime time movie Reiner couldn’t recognize, and Eren’s drug paraphernalia was left scattered on the coffee table, his bong alongside his stray lighter and grinder.

“Eren!” Reiner had prompted him on several occasions, reminding Eren that just because he thought electricity was a necessary utility and should be free, didn’t mean it was, they still had to pay for it. He also requested that he put his bong away after he was done smoking since it wasn’t permitted in their building, but Eren seemed heedless to that demand too. “Eren!”

Reiner anticipated a response, but huffed when he received only silence. Leave it to his roommate to blight his good mood in record time. He mumbled inaudibly, swiping the remote off the table to turn the TV off, and then reluctantly bending down to tidy the space of Eren’s things.

“Hi, Sunshine. You’re up and about early.”

Reiner straightened himself out and turned around, unaware that you’d been over. He missed your approaching footsteps. Had you stayed the night? He didn’t hear anything from Eren’s room the previous evening which was unusual to say the least. Maybe you’d stopped by earlier that morning while he’d been out.

“Hey,” he replied meekly. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

Reiner’s eyes looked you over swiftly, slightly startled at the lack of clothing covering your bottom half. You were only wearing a loose shirt that stopped dangerously at your hips and a pair of lace undergarments, but naturally, you didn’t seem the least bit phased. You’d practically lived with them. When you weren’t in class or at your part-time job, you were at their apartment, leading Reiner to wonder if you forgot you had a place of your own.

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “Sorry Eren left all of his shit out. I don’t know how I know the house rules and he doesn’t.”

Reiner snorted. “He knows them, he just doesn’t care.” His voice was casual although he walked hastily into the kitchen to avoid looking at you. He stored Eren’s bong in the vacant cupboard above the microwave before throwing his other tools into a miscellaneous drawer.

As if on cue, Eren wandered out of his room languidly, carelessly shrugging a jacket onto his unclad upper body. Reiner took that as a sign that his lunch would be best enjoyed in his room. He was already irked, and wasn’t in the headspace to deal with the current atmosphere.

“What’d you get?” you questioned, leaning over the counter with mirth. You paid little attention to the way Eren came up behind you, circling his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the curve of your shoulder. You looked more interested in the alluring smells wafting from the paper bag in Reiner’s hand.

Another thing he hated about Eren was his shameless PDA. It appeared he adored showing you off, letting everyone know that you were his, but God--how could anyone forget when it seemed he was incapable of keeping his hands off of you. Reiner himself recognized that you were a prize, from your lively eyes that were a marriage of subtle hues to the way your lips curled upwards when you grinned. He even noticed the curve of your breasts’ shape through your shirt. If Reiner had you, he’d want you all to himself.

He shook the thought out of his head.

“I just got something small on the way home.” He forced a smile. “If I’d known you were over I would have gotten you something too.”

“Why do you treat Y/N better than you treat me?” Eren asked, sounding only a little bit offended.

Reiner pretended to think before he responded. “Ah, maybe it’s because I don’t like you.”

You laughed at Reiner’s reply, and Eren only smiled, but Reiner detected something else behind his expression. Mischief.

“Do you like Y/N?”

Reiner creased his eyebrows together. “Of course.” He hadn’t read too much into the question. He did like you. You weren’t just easy on the eyes, but you were great company too. That was the only reason he didn’t mind lending their apartment to you as a second home, he enjoyed being around you.

You let out an exaggerated aww after he answered. “I like you too, Reiner.”

Reiner chuckled, shaking his head, but inside he was telling his heart to calm down. You didn’t mean it like that.

Eren hummed absentmindedly, swaying side to side slowly while you rocked along to his movement.

“Do you wanna fuck her?”

Reiner gripped the bag in his hand tightly, and his smile faltered in shock, reeling from the bombshell of Eren’s question. “What?” Did he hear him correctly?

You looked just as surprised, exclaiming your boyfriend’s name and craning your neck to look at him.

“I’m kidding,” he dismissed, but Reiner could tell he wasn’t from the way Eren’s eyes didn’t waver from him.

What Reiner didn’t know was that Eren had caught onto him. He’d known for a while, which was why he was particularly touchy with you around Reiner, showing you off, not caring whether you walked around their apartment scarcely dressed, it was because Eren enjoyed having something that someone else wanted. He saw the way his roommate acted around his girlfriend, reserved and quiet, more than he usually was, and he even noticed the way Reiner’s eyes dipped down to your chest in the moment because Eren was exceptional at paying attention to detail.

You must have detected how uncomfortable Reiner felt because you delivered a brief jab to Eren’s ribs with your elbow.

“Eren, that’s not fucking funny,” you chided. “Do I need to put you in time out?”

“It’s fine,” Reiner interrupted quickly. He didn’t want you defending him because you were oblivious. It only made the situation more embarrassing than it already was since, truthfully, the thought had crossed his mind more than once.

Eren reiterated his question, eyes narrowed at Reiner. “So do you?”

You sighed heavily and looked at Reiner apologetically. He could feel his face growing hot, and he prayed it wasn’t obvious he was as flushed as he felt. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

Reiner released a humourless chuckle. “Grow up, Eren.” He slipped past the two of you, but he didn’t get far.

“I’m only asking because I’m feeling charitable. You wouldn’t mind, would you baby?”

Reiner could hear Eren pressing a series of ticklish kisses against your skin, causing you to laugh through your answer.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind if Reiner doesn’t mind.”

Reiner brought his teeth down hard on the tip of his tongue. He was surprised that Eren was so secure in his relationship that he would willingly allow another man to have his way with his girlfriend. He wasn’t sure if his suggestion was insane or ingenious, because Eren had taken control of the one thing that threatened any relationship: infidelity, something so unvirtuous wouldn’t stop him from loving you. You and Eren were so committed to each other that a simple fuck meant nothing.

Reiner hesitated, but figured an opportunity like this was rare. He had both Eren’s permission and yours, yet he still didn’t believe his sincerity until you were in Eren’s room, starting to strip out of your clothes.

His chestnut eyes drifted over to Eren, slouched lazily in the chair he casually pulled out from his desk. “You’re gonna watch?”

Eren lifted a thick eyebrow, resting his thumb under his chin with an index finger against his cheek, looking unimpressed by Reiner’s obvious reservations. “You think I’d let you fuck my girlfriend without me here?”

Reiner slid a tense hand over the back of his neck, rubbing away the uncomfortable heat that creeped up his back and diffused to the tips of his ears. He figured that was reasonable considering the circumstances, after all, he was only fucking you because Eren had allowed it.

There was nothing more intoxicating to Reiner than your bare form, scanty pink lace clinging to your hips the only thing preventing you from being completely naked in front of him. His gaze dipped from your simpering smile down to your collarbones and then down to your breasts, perfectly sculpted to your figure.

Reiner made no efforts to move despite his insatiable urge to grab you in his arms and make certain that you were left satisfied. He feared he’d look too eager to Eren who was observing from the sidelines, but you paid little attention to your audience of one as you sauntered towards Reiner, closer and closer, until your arms slid around his neck and you pressed your chest to his torso.

Reiner’s body was strung so tightly, he was afraid he might snap. It seemed you took notice of the way his muscles tensed once your delicate fingers ghosted over the nape of his neck because your suggestive expression waned, and instead, your eyebrows creased with sincere concern.

“You okay?”

He couldn’t respond, but to be fair, it was because his heart was hammering against his chest and he wasn’t sure how to make it stop. He looked over at Eren again, who, fortunately, didn’t seem to pay much attention to him. Instead, your boyfriend’s stare was fixed on your backside, likely admiring how luscious you looked from his perspective.

“I’m over here.” You laughed and pressed a gentle finger to Reiner’s chin, redirecting his focus back to you. “Just relax.”

He swallowed, chuckling to soothe his unease. “I’m trying.”

Reiner wasn’t sure why he felt so unassertive in your presence. He didn’t hold a record like Eren did, but he also wasn't abstinent by any means. This, though, felt different. He was dealing with several months of pent-up sexual frustration that could only be satisfied by you and no one else. He knew because he’d tried.

Reiner drew in a ragged breath as you leaned into him, breathing heavily through his mouth until you closed the space in between you two, then he continued breathing heavily through his nose. At first, he made no efforts to close his eyes, afraid that the imagery in front of him was a mirage inspired by his own imagination and would disappear if he so much as blinked. His lips were timid, body taut under your touch, but you seduced his mouth, reining him in until he melted into the kiss.

He pushed back against you with fervor and desperation, outlining the shape of your bottom lip with his tongue before nipping at the soft flesh. You released a quiet whimper, intensifying the lust swelling in the pit of his stomach, and Reiner forced his tongue past your teeth, claiming your mouth while his wandering hands settled audaciously against your ass.

Your hands slid over his shoulders and crafted biceps until they tugged hastily against the hem of his shirt, and Reiner immediately understood your cue, withdrawing his mouth from yours to give himself just enough time to slip out of it. He dipped down again to deliver another kiss, but he was deterred by the feeling of your palm against his chest.

“What? Is something wrong?” he questioned quickly, eyes darting back and forth between your hand and your face, worried that he’d done something to overstep your boundaries.

Instead of the troubled expression he expected, you looked rather intrigued. Perhaps impressed was the better word. Your curiosity was held by Reiner’s physique, a living work of art. Eager fingers traveled down the built ripples of his abdomen, chuckling once you felt his muscles flex under your touch.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed. “Nice, Braun.”

A snicker emitted from the corner. This, miraculously, Eren allowed.

Reiner's mouth quirked upward in a subtle smile before he surrounded you with his arm, pulling you in for another kiss. He walked you backwards until you collapsed onto the mattress, and he fell on top of you, strong forearms holding up his weight. It was then that Reiner realized he allowed his lust to win in the war against himself.

He pulled away to recover his breath, winded pants fanning over your face. His surveying eyes searched yours before they lowered to your swollen lips. God, you were even more mesmerizing up close, heavy-lidded and studying him through a curtain of eyelashes. Maybe for once Reiner would admit he was jealous of Eren. He was fucking envious, bitter, and spiteful that you were his. He’d been a goddamn idiot to let things go this far, agreeing to Eren’s offer, because he knew one fuck wouldn’t be enough to fufill his need for you. He’d barely gotten a taste, and he could already promise that nothing would ever compare to this.

He found your throat and pressed a fleeting kiss to your pulse, moving further down until his lips met your collarbone. He nipped at the delicate skin, taking notice of the way your grip in his hair tightened. His eyebrows arched while he peered up at you, delighting in the way your head rolled back and forth against the duvet. He really wanted to suck at your skin, leaving dark bruises that decorated the path from your earlobe down to your breastbone, but he knew Eren would kill him.

Reiner dipped lower until his lips brushed lightly against your beaded nipple. You made a small sound of protest, but held his head closer, letting him know what you really wanted. His heart beat erratically against his ribcage as he curved a large hand around your right breast and suppressed a groan, but you released a breathy whimper.

He could feel the sound wreaking havoc in his brain. His balls were so damn tight, it would take barely any effort for him to cum, but he wanted to prolong your coupling as long as possible. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance like this.

His thumb ran over the erect peaks of your breasts, captivated by the magic of watching your back arch and your body become aroused under his touch. He dipped a finger into his mouth, glazing it with his saliva before using it to flick back and forth at your nipple.

“Fuck, Reiner,” you mewled.

Reiner replaced his hand with his lips, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. The tip of his tongue swirled around it, coating it generously with his spit, while you made no attempts to conceal your intense cries of pleasure.

Eren released an entertained sigh, swiveling back and forth in his chair. “She whines like a bitch, doesn’t she?”

Shit. Reiner had almost forgotten he was there, but he still released a hungry grunt in agreement, sending vibrations over your chest. He tugged at your nipple with his teeth, releasing it, and then soothing the sting with the flat side of his tongue.

He trailed down your abdomen, pressing hard wet kisses and stopping to leave a quick lick to your navel. He grinned against your skin when you gripped the sheets and breathed his name again, this time quieter, as if you meant it only for his ears. He liked to think so.

Once he reached the waistband of your panties, he licked along the fabric, immobilizing your rolling hips with strong hands.

“Enough with the theatrics, Reiner. Just do it already,” Eren groaned, sounding irate.

Reiner assumed Eren’s groan was only to stress his impatience, but once he looked over to him, he realized he wasn’t just giving directives from the sidelines. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and his hand was moving steadily against the noticeable tent in his sweatpants.

He was enjoying this just as much as Reiner was, getting off to the sight of his girlfriend under another man, his roommate nonetheless.

Reiner suddenly felt strange. What the hell was he doing providing entertainment for Eren?

“Reiner,” your needy voice pulled him out of his reflection. His attention drifted back to you, watching while you propped yourself up on your elbows and slid your unsteady hands over your chest to tweak your own nipples, as if you were trying to hold yourself over.

He wished you hadn’t looked so tempting, even with your disheveled hair and sweaty skin, your vulnerable eyes fixated on him, and he was powerless.

Reiner hooked his fingers around your underwear, kissing a trail down the inside of your thighs as he pulled your panties down to your ankles before slipping them off and letting them pool on the floor.

“Spread wide baby, let him see that pretty pussy,” Eren stirred, cock now thrust out the top of his grey sweats and his swollen tip glistening with precum. His hand was wrapped firmly around his stiff length, moving slow while his breathing quickened.

For once, Reiner agreed with him, and he pressed his fingers into your thighs to aid you in parting your legs. Your pussy was slick with your own arousal, squelching as you tightened around nothing. You were even prettier than he’d imagined.

“Fuck,” Reiner breathed, extending two fingers to part your folds. Was he still sure he wasn’t dreaming?

He wrapped his built arms around your legs, pulled you closer, and lowered his head. He fixed his lips to your swollen clit, allowing his tongue to lap and circle around the tender bud every few seconds.

“Oh my god,” you cried, writhing against the sheets.

If he hadn’t secured your legs in his grip, he was certain you would have smothered him between your thighs out of reflex. He could detect the way you fought against his hold, but he far overpowered you in strength.

When he plunged his tongue inside you without notice, that was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You pulled on the sheets with a frenzied grip, producing a shrill cry your neighbors had certainly heard. There was no doubt about it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, chest expanding and falling with labored breaths.

Reiner wanted to spend a few more generous minutes tasting you, he couldn’t get enough, but he also wasn’t sure how much longer he would last. His cock was hot and hard in his pants, and he needed to feel you around him. Even if Eren wouldn’t let him cum inside of you, he needed to experience at least that much.

He rose to his feet, working quickly against his pants’ zipper while trying not to tease himself by looking at you. He was worried the mere sight of you on the bed, spread and ready for him would be enough to bring him to a climax, but he’d made the mistake of looking at you anyways, hand between your legs, delicate fingers rubbing at your clit while you stared up at him.

Fucking hell. Kill me. Reiner thought. Fuck. He felt the throbbing heat of his cock, and he wished you wouldn’t look at him like that. He really wished you wouldn’t look at him like that.

“Look at her, so desperate to be filled. It’s almost pathetic,” Eren laughed, but it was clear he was feeling your effect too. He lolled his head forward, long brown hair spilling over his shoulders and obscuring his face while his palm worked fast against his cock.

Shut up, Reiner thought. His head was growing hazy, and he couldn’t think. He needed to be inside you, and he couldn’t wait a second longer.

Reiner let himself free while his pants and underwear hung low around his knees. He couldn’t even find time to delight in the way your face melted into bliss once you laid eyes on his thick cock, leaking precum in sinful amounts because all he could think about was his ache. He leaned over you, positioning himself at your entrance.

He’d been waiting for this for so goddamn long.

Reiner exhaled when you said his name again, hips undulating against his cock and wet folds stroking his tip. He watched as he pushed himself into you, filling you to the hilt, and once he was inside he hung his head forward, eyes shut tightly in a painful sort of ecstasy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Reiner grunted breathlessly.

He groaned, pinning your hips down with his once you attempted to fuck yourself onto his cock.

“Stop moving,” he pleaded. “Jesus christ--please don’t move.” He stayed still for a moment, waiting until his sensitivity subsided before he started rocking his hips against you slowly.

Reiner couldn’t dedicate his focus to anything other than the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his cock every time he pulled out, and the way he stretched you out every time he thrusted back in. He wondered if you could feel the depth of his desire.

“Harder,” you whispered once, and then begged louder. “Reiner please, fuck me harder.”

At first, Reiner was worried. He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to savor you, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you, but your request had him picking up the pace, ramming into you until the familiar slapping sound of sweaty skin filled the room.

You unraveled and became completely undone, letting out loud moans every time he drove his cock into you. Reiner thought the sound was incredibly euphonic as it fell upon his ears. You were like this because of him.

“How’s this?” His voice was husky and deep beside your ear.

Reiner was pleased by your lack of response. You could only nod, overwhelmed by the dual sensation brought on by him and the feeling of your quick fingers against your clit. You secured an arm around his neck again and wrapped your legs around his torso, clinging to him like he was all you needed. He wished that was how you really felt.

“Close…,” you murmured, and Reiner deduced you were warning him that you were near your orgasm. He could tell by the way your walls began to spasm.

Reiner felt the small of his back tighten, and he knew he was close too. He was torn between his release and holding himself back, not ready for this to end just yet, but his body betrayed him and he felt his cock twitch inside you.

Luckily, you reached your climax first, and Reiner watched in awe as your body seized underneath him, breasts bobbing with every jolt while you worked your clit into overstimulation. It wasn’t long after your orgasm that he made his last rueful thrusts. He quickly pulled out and clasped himself in the curve of his hand. He pumped his length until he released in quick spurts onto your stomach, covering you in his hot seed, and he kept pumping until he made sure he emptied himself of every drop.

His eyes quickly darted over to Eren, not to be odd or anything, but again, he had forgotten he was there. It seemed Eren had already satisfied himself. The creamy, white liquid decorating the bare skin of his abdomen and dribbling down his loose fist was evidence of that. Now that he had appeased his urges, he seemed disinterested as he reached over his desk and plucked a few tissues to clean himself up.

Reiner collapsed beside you, listening to the loud thudding of his heart as it delivered a few ecstatic beats while he caught his breath and began to calm down. He stared at the pivoting fan blades, and then his eyes dropped down to you lying next to him, sweaty and fucked out.

You were laying there with him, and goddammit he wanted to reach his arms out and wrap them around you, pulling you close so he could hold you and feel your heartbeat against his chest. He’d press kisses to your salty forehead, and then tell you how much he loved you. He wanted to stay like this.

Reiner's ideal vision dissolved once Eren stopped at the edge of the bed and extended his hand for you to grab.

“You wanna join me for a shower, baby?” Eren asked.

Of course, you took it, allowing him to support you until you were sitting up.

You released an exhausted laugh. “Yes, please.” You then turned to Reiner and arched your eyebrow in surprise. “By the way, not bad, Braun.”

Reiner gave you a small smile in return, but said nothing as he watched you cover your breasts with your arm and let Eren hoist you off the bed. You two slid past him and headed out of the room, but not without Eren looking back over his shoulder, shooting Reiner a shit-eating grin, as though reminding him who you’d always belong to.

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jenoismydad · 4 years ago

Text

For Your Eyes Only

its been a while since i’ve written nomin smut. this one took quite a while to write and its kinda crack but i still hope you all enjoy it. smut begins at the ♥️ incase you don’t want to read the plot.

Pairing: Jeno x Reader x Jaemin

Genre: Smut; Threesome, Fem Receiving, Male Receiving, Unprotected Sex

Words: 3.8k+

Synopsis: You take a naughty picture for Jaemin without realising that you accidentally sent it to Jeno instead. One wrong text leads to a night of immeasurable pleasure ;)

Warnings: None

»»————-　➴　————-««

It was 3 a.m. and you were unbelievably horny. After unsuccessfully attempting to satisfy yourself, you gave up and decided to call your neighbour cum fuck buddy, Jaemin, hoping that he was still awake and that he’d be kind enough to come over and help you out with your ‘problem’. Luckily for you, he picked up, and when you presented your case, he asked you to give him 20 minutes, during which time he’d finish playing a video game, shower and then arrive to tend to your needs. Still, since the offer was better than nothing, you agreed and decided to wait. However 20 minutes later, your doorbell failed to ring. So, you called him once again to check up and make sure that the offer was still standing. This time, Jaemin claimed that he’d only need 10 more minutes, but if you were to give him an incentive of sorts, then he’d consider hurrying up. He also ridiculously concluded by adding that doing so would be a win-win situation for you both as he’d get to see your boobs due to which you’d get to be railed by him sooner.

Since it all made perfect sense, there was no reason for you to say no to this newly introduced

proposition. All you had to do was click a picture and send it to him. That would be the end of that, and you’d both get what you wanted. However, you knew very well how Jaemin’s friends liked to snoop around in his phone. It so happened that you’d once sent Jaemin a rather proactive text, leading from which was an hour long conversation about all the dirty things you both wanted to do to each other. Later on, much to your horror, Jaemin informed you that it wasn’t actually him who you were sexting but instead, one of his buddies who’d borrowed his phone to ‘play some games’. It was amusing for Jaemin but the incident had scarred you beyond belief. The embarrassment you felt afterwards was immeasurable and so, you’d been careful with the way you made your booty calls ever since.

To put it straight, you were reluctant to send Jaemin a few nudes in the fear that someone who wasn’t him might come across them. But after giving it quite a lot of thought, you realised that you were just too horny and impatient to keep dragging this out. If you wanted to get relieved so that you could soundly fall asleep, you needed to get Jaemin down here as soon as possible.

So, without so much as a thought, you opened your camera, took the raunchiest set of pictures that you possibly could, and sent them to him with a reminder that they were for his eyes only. After that you were left to stare at your phone screen, waiting to see if he’d gotten his ‘incentive’ or not. It took him a few seconds, but soon enough, he saw them. You didn’t know if he was at a loss of words or if he was just trying to send you a cheesy pick up line that he couldn’t quite seem to remember. He kept ‘typing’ but you never got a response and it was beginning to make you feel antsy. Just before you were about to call him again, you heard a knock at your door.

Feeling a sense of relief, you straightened yourself up a bit before opening the door. “Took you long enough-”, you muttered distastefully, pausing when you surprisingly met eyes with someone who was clearly not Jaemin.

“Jeno? What are you doing here?” you asked, extremely confused as to why your next door neighbour was at your house at such a late hour. He seemed conflicted, dazed almost, knuckles having turned white because of how tightly he was holding his phone. Something was wrong. You noticed this and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything okay? Do you wanna come inside?”

He shook his head, nodding soon after, seemingly in a dilemma of sorts. You stepped aside, allowing him to enter your home. “Jeno what’s going on?” you asked once again, starting to feel concerned for your friend. He was usually always so calm and composed so his current demeanour seriously caught you off guard. For some reason he was fighting for words.

“Umm, I don’t know how to say this but, did you mean to send those pictures to me?” he spoke quickly, avoiding your gaze immediately after. Now you were at a loss of words. You weren’t stupid and you were pretty sure you knew what he was talking about. It didn’t take you too long to put two and two together. To further support your doubts, his deranged state plus apparent timidness suggested that he’d seen something horrific, something that he hadn’t intended to see and something that you were now realising must have been sent to the wrong person. As soon as it occurred to you, you checked your messages, feeling absolutely dreadful when your suspicions were confirmed. You’d sent your nudes to him instead of Jaemin. How, you did not know. What were you supposed to do now? Apologise? Even if you did, and even if he forgave you, you couldn’t live with the fact that he’d seen you naked, or semi naked or whatever. Jeno wasn’t someone who you could ignore that easily. He lived right next to you, you always ran into him in the elevator and down the halls and he was your go to 5 minute grocery store from whom you’d borrow eggs or laundry detergent, whatever it was that you’d run out of. He was very crucial and unavoidable so now, what were you going to do about this?

“Fuck, I-, I’m so sorry you had to see those. I mean, I wasn’t trying to send them to you.”, you began. “I don’t even send nudes. Like this was the one time, the one time that I did and look what happened.” Chuckling nervously you continued, “I guess you could say that I was super desperate, I mean-”

“Yeah, that’s not an understatement.”, Jeno mumbled, tilting his head with a subtle smirk. You stumbled over your words as you registered what he said. Pausing, you pursed your lips and uncertainly faced him. “What do you mean by that?” Jeno looked up at you and scratched his neck. “I could hear everything.”, he admitted, somewhat embarrassedly. “These walls are incredibly thin. You’d be surprised at how much detail they fail to spare.”

Your eyes widened, face turning a deep shade of red. He’d heard you masturbating. How humiliating. If the door wasn’t closed, you would’ve bolted. The uncanny amount of awkwardness that had settled over you both felt like it could crush you at this point. Why did he feel the need to tell you that? If you were in his place then you would’ve just kept it to yourself, no matter how awkward it would make you feel around him. It was enough that he’d seen your nudes, but this, this was practically the cherry on top.

But then, Jeno proceeded to say something so unfathomable, so completely unlikely of him, that it made you question whether the man standing before you was actually the same cheerful person that you’d been living beside for the past few years or if it was just another overly confident horny teenager on omegle.

“I could help out if you’d like.”

You wanted to scream, to run and hide somewhere where he could never trace you because how the fuck were you supposed to respond to that. So straightforward, so suggestive and so utterly shameless. It felt like he’d put you on the spot. If you said no then it would make things manifold awkward and you didn’t know if you could afford to bear that. If things ever became like that then the only choice you’d have left is to move out, which you once again, were beyond the means of affording. But that in no way meant that you were obligated to agree to his suggestion. So now the question arises...why on earth did you?

Though you’d claim that you’d never thought of Jeno like that, it was common knowledge that you had, at least once in your life, indeed wondered what he was all about. Whenever he wasn’t smiling he looked like a walking full course meal. Jeno was attractive, you would never deny that. And that thing he’d said about the walls being thin. Well let’s just say that you’d lived through a few endless nights of wondering what the heck that man was doing to drunken women in his dingy ass bed that had them screaming like that. It was enticing, it was exciting, and the more you thought about it, the more curious you were to find out. Other than that you felt like it would make things less awkward. He’d seen you partially naked. But if he saw you completely naked and you saw him completely naked then you felt like that would balance things out. Were you stupid? Yes you were. Were you insanely horny? Surprisingly, despite everything that had just happened, yes, you still were.

♥️

“Turn the lights off.”, you instructed with a smirk, pointing to the switch behind Jeno. He did as you said, chuckling when you pulled him towards your couch excitedly. Pushing him down, you quickly got on top of his lap and crashed your lips onto his. Jeno wrapped his arms around your waist, sighing into the kiss. Wanting to waste no time, your tongue brushed over his bottom lip. Jeno parted his lips, letting your tongue run over his. He hastily pushed your shirt up, messily pulling it off over your head. He then flipped you over, laying you down on the couch as he hovered over your body. “Can I just go for it?” he asked, grinning when you nodded. With your permission, Jeno shoved his hand into your pants and past your panties until his fingers ghosted over your clit. You gasped, anticipating his next move. Jeno chuckled and began rubbing soft circles into your clit. You let out a shaky breath, moaning when he dipped his head down to place wet kisses on the skin of your neck. For a second there, you got so lost in the feeling of his calloused fingers on your clit that you failed to notice the budding tension in your abdomen. It wasn’t until you came undone all over his fingers, that it occurred to you. Jeno didn’t stop however. He continued rubbing your clit, sending you into a frenzy over sensitivity. You mewled, hugging his body tightly. Your thighs snapped shut, nails digging into his shoulders as the sensation started becoming too much for you to take. “Take your pants off.”, Jeno spoke quickly, sitting up to do the same. You tugged everything off, laying back down on the couch, giving Jeno quite the sight of your glistening core. Once his cock was free of its restraints, he gave it a few hard pumps before lining his tip up against your slit. Your hips twitched at the ticklish feeling. You spread your legs wider, waiting for him to push into you. Leaning over your body, Jeno’s cock soon filled you up. The overstimulation had your pussy burning. But you didn’t mind anymore. Something about the way his girth pushed against your tight walls made you believe that you were in for something amazing. Holding himself up on his palms, Jeno began thrusting into your. Considering how wet you were, he didn’t have to build up his pace. You closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of his cock fucking you. It felt so good. It was exactly what you’d been craving for. Jeno maintained his fulfillung thrusts, not too slow but not too fast. You swore if he kept fucking you like that it would be enough to bring you to a second orgasm. But you were impatient and the desire to feel those euphoric waves crash down on you again was more demanding than you’d like for it to be. And so your hand sneakily came down to your clit, proceeding to add to the pleasure that you were already feeling. Sweat trickled down Jeno’s forehead as he chased his own high. Both of you were so consumed in your own pleasure that no one heard the lock jiggling. Your loud moans masked the sounds of someone entering your home. It wasn’t until the imposter actually said something, that you realised someone was watching you.

“How could you guys get started without me?”, an all too familiar voice whined.

Jeno froze in place. You on the other hand, were so close to cumming, that even though you’d seen Jaemin standing there, your fingers never ceased their movements. And as soon as your eyes locked with Jaemin’s, your orgasm hit. You’d never been in such a intimately awkward situation before. On one hand your body was springing with thrilling pleasure while on the other hand, you were flabergastedly staring at your fuck buddy. Talk about timing.

“Jaemin what are you doing here!”, you asked, not quite understanding how he’d gotten into your home. He furrowed his brows, seemingly offended. “Umm, hadn’t you asked me to help you out with your problem?” Still buried balls deep in you, Jeno looked between you and Jaemin, more confused than he’d ever been in his entire life. How could you have forgotten about Jaemin? Of course he was going to come over. But still, who let him in? “How did you manage to get inside?”, you asked, as you moved to sit up. Jaemin raised his hands in defence. “The door wasn’t locked. That’s not my fault. It’s yours.” He pointed at you accusingly. You rolled your eyes. “Still, you’re supposed to knock. You can’t just barge in-” “

Oh please.”, he interrupted, holding a hand up to stop you. “It’s not like you’re doing something I’ve never seen before.”

“When have you ever walked in on me having sex?”

Jaemin gave your question some thought. “Hmm? Now that I think of it, never actually.” He smiled bashfully, eyes darting over to Jeno. Jaemin clapped his hands. “This guy however, I’ve walked in on him countless times. Surprised that he actually stopped though. Usually he just ignores me and continues.”, Jaemin revealed. Jeno rolled his eyes and looked over to you. “Bitch always cock blocks me. But whatever, if he’s here now I think I can leave.”

Before he could pull out of you however, you grabbed his hand, halting him. “You didn’t even finish yet. Please don’t tell me you’re going to jerk off.” Jaemin nodded at your words. “Come on Jenny. Don’t disappoint yourself. Cum, and then you can leave. You’ve gotta finish what you’ve started.”, he added. Jeno looked at Jaemin. “What are you going to do then? Stand there and watch?”

Jaemin looked at you. “Well I could join if you’d like.” Jeno turned to you as well. “I’m fine with it. Are you?”

You looked between both boys. “Have you guys done this before?” You’d asked because it seemed like they had.

Jaemin nodded, walking over to you both. “This one time, Jeno got super duper day drunk and he called some girl over and then I came downstairs because I needed some eggs and they were doing it on the couch, just like you two were right now, and the girl pointed to me and was like ‘can he join us’ and so I joined them and then we had sex and it was really good and yeah.”

That was only one time though and Jeno was drunk. Something about the way Jeno had agreed to this made you believe that this was something that had probably happened more than once. As if he’d heard all the questions in your mind, Jeno continued Jaemin’s narration. “Jaemin was having a party at his place once. I hooked up with someone in his room and he walked in on us. Dude just joined in like it was nothing and honestly, it was super fun.”

“And were you drunk then?”

Jeno shook his head. “Surprisingly, I was not.”

That sure said a lot. Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad. You knew Jaemin was a good fuck and Jeno was proving to be right up to the mark. You’d never done something like this before but after everything that you’d been through tonight, what was the point in feeling embarrassed. You were ready to let go and lose yourself.

Jaemin undressed himself, and made you lay back down again. “Don’t gag on me y/n. I know you can take it.” You gulped, equally nervous and excited. Jeno pulled out of you, pumping his cock a few times before turning you onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up and pressed his tip into your slit. “Can we have a countdown Jenni?”, Jaemin asked, holding his own cock to your mouth. “No. And stop calling me Jenni, it’s weird.” Jaemin pouted but nonetheless, tapped your lips. “Open up y/n.”, he cooed. Jeno pushed into you from behind and resumed fucking you, the same way he had been before.

You spit on Jaemin’s cock, waiting for him to slick his length up before opening wide for him. Once he pushed his cock into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his girth, swirling your tongue over his tip, just the way you knew he liked it. Jaemin smiled, holding your hair out of your face. With Jeno’s forceful thrusts, you didn’t need to bob your head over Jaemin’s cock. “Jenni, have you ever gotten your dick sucked by y/n? If you haven’t, I highly recommend it. Y/n ensures 100% customer satisfaction.”, Jaemin spoked happily. You snickered, sending a rumble of vibrations through his cock. Jaemin shivered and tapped your nose. “That tickled.”

Jeno scoffed at Jaemin’s childish tone. “Is he always like this?”, Jeno asked you. You gave him a thumbs up and pulled Jaemin’s cock out of your mouth. “He’s only serious when he’s about to cum.” Jaemin gasped and grabbed your jaw. “Who said you could stop missy?”

Jaemin shoved his cock back into your mouth and held your head down. Your nose was mere inches from his abdomen. You grabbed onto his hand, a sign that you’d gotten the message. You wouldn’t stop until he finished now. Jeno snickered and upped his pace. He fucked you nice and hard. Jaemin’s cock muffled your moans. Every time Jeno thrusted into you from behind, Jaemin pushed his hips into your mouth from the front.

“So Jenni.”, Jaemin started, clearly not close to his high. “How’d you end up here?”

Jeno grunted as he fucked you. “She sent me something that was meant for you. I came here to ask her about it. We ended up fucking.”, he explained, never losing his pace once. Jaemin nodded and raised a brow. “Wonder what she sent you. I never get nudes.”

“It was just a picture of her half naked. Her tits looked real nice though.”, Jeno shared. “Oh. If I’d have gotten them instead, I would’ve been down here sooner.”, Jaemin admitted. You weren’t too sure about that. You knew Jaemin would’ve made you reveal more than you originally had. “Can you send me the pictures later y/n? I’d really love to see them.”

You gently bit Jaemin’s cock, making him wince. He also effectively shut up and continued to remain quite thereafter. The sound of skin hitting skin soon filled the room. Jeno fucked you faster. He was close. You clenched your walls around his shaft, hoping that it would help him reach his high quicker. “Fuck. Do that again.”, he muttered, fingers digging into your ass. Pushing your hips backward, you clenched your walls around his cock again. Jeno groaned in satisfaction, ramming his hips into you one last time before filling you up with hot ropes of his cum. You hummed against Jaemin’s cock as Jeno emptied himself into you and eventually pulled out. Seeing that your pussy was now unoccupied, Jaemin pulled out of your mouth and quickly sat down on the couch. You threw your leg over his lap and lowered yourself onto his cock without wasting a second. Somewhere in the back you could hear Jeno fishing for his clothes. Jaemin sucked in a breath, undoing your bra with a simple flick of his wrist. He tugged the material off your body and went straight for your nipple, running his tongue over the sensitive bud.

“Good night guys.”, Jeno said, standing by your door. Jaemin pulled away from your breast and looked over his shoulder. “Good night Jenni! I hope we don’t keep you up.” Jeno made his exit, leaving you and Jaemin to be. Jaemin bucked his hips upwards, fucking into you from below. Loud moans poured out of your mouth as he rammed into you.

“Isn’t this what you wanted y/n. Didn’t you want to feel my cock inside of you like this?”, Jaemin questioned, losing the playful demeanour. You nodded frantically. “Yes, Jaemin. Oh god, yes!”You couldn’t even speak coherently because of how quick he was fucking you. You could feel Jeno’s sticky cum trailing down your thighs. It all felt so lewd but you would never complain about it. “Are you going to cum all over my cock y/n?”, Jaemin asked, noticing the way your moans became shriller. You didn’t answer him. You couldn’t answer him. You were too focused on the knot forming in your stomach to think about anything else. “Fuck I’m gonna cum.”, you moaned, fingeres tugging on his hair in desperation. Jaemin said nothing further and sped up his thrusts, hammering into you from below.

Your orgasm hit you so hard that your thighs began quivering at the strong sensation. You shut your eyes, a screen of white flashing before them as Jaemin slowed down a bit. He helped you ride out your high, grabbing your hips in order to keep you moving over him. Your walls were tight around his cock, and after a few more thrusts, he twitched inside you, soon emptying his seed into, just as Jeno had. After he pulled out of you, you fell onto the couch, suddenly feeling very fatigued. It was almost the morning now. God knows how long you’d been trying to fuck off your horniness. Thankfully, you were now fully and completely satisfied. “Aren’t you gonna clean yourself up?”, Jaemin asked, walking into your bathroom with his clothes in hand. You didn’t have the energy to move anymore. Jaemin came back, fully dressed, with a blanket and warm towel which he gave to you. You lazily ran it over your thighs, pulling the blanket over yourself soon after. Jaemin concluded that it was time for him to go home now. He bid you a farewell and was about to leave your house before he remembered that he had something to ask.

“Can you still send me whatever I was meant to see? I’d really love that.”

1K notes · View notes

amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 2 - FALLEN

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru tries to recapture your heart.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (7k words), cameo from MSBY 4

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene.

Masterlist link here!

Tag list link here!

You catch sight of Oikawa Tooru as you bustle through the hospital’s sliding doors, your usual cup of coffee in your hand that you buy on the way to work. He’s seated in the waiting area next to a middle aged man you guess must be his manager, from the way he jumps to his feet immediately to act as a human shield as you call out breathlessly -

“T - Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

Tooru’s head swivels around to meet your gaze, and you’re shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes until you glance at the bandages wrapped around his swollen knee.

Oh.

You try not to stare, but you do so anyway. The sight of your ex-boyfriend makes you feel as if you’re seeing a ghost, a specter from some past life. You last saw him when he was twenty one, young and proud, wax wings fully spread, a speck in the skies. What a difference five years makes. His shoulders are still broad, and the tilt of his jaw is still proud, but the light in his eyes has faded to darkness, and the pallor of his skin suggests far too much time spent away from the sun.

Icarus, Icarus. Your hubris has led you to such heights, but look how far you’ve fallen.

It’s surprising there’s no news of his injury, considering he’s one third of Japan’s trifecta of setters in the volleyball scene’s monster generation. With the Olympics rapidly approaching with just over a year to go, an injury must be devastating, especially to Oikawa Tooru, with dreams of Olympic greatness and victory on his native shores.

A nurse materialises to usher Oikawa away for surgery before he can respond to the pity in your gaze. You look around. He’s alone, save for his manager. No one deserves to be wake up alone after surgery, so you call after him -

“I’ll check in on you after you’re done! Gambatte!”

He responds with a thumbs up and a weak smile.

You flip through his medical files once you get the chance.

Oikawa Tooru, twenty six. Pro-volleyball player for EJP Raijin previously, currently playing in the Argentinian league. Narrowly missed out on making the cut for the previous Olympics, but went on to represent Japan in the last three World Cups, alternating with Miya Atsumu and Kageyama Tobio. Obviously hoping for another shot at the Olympics, but that’s looking bleak from what you’re gleaning from his medical records.

His right knee has always bothered him, even during his high school days. Now, a decade later, it looks like he’s managed to tear his tendon to shreds.

Volleyball is a cruel, demanding mistress, especially for one not born a genius.

The surgery to repair a torn knee ligament is delicate work, requiring an experienced surgeon, and the road to recovery requires extensive physiotherapy. It’s no wonder he’s resorted to the modern Tokyo hospital you work in rather than returning to his native Sendai to recuperate. The downside of doing so though, is that he’d have to recover alone.

You wrinkle your nose. He may be your ex-boyfriend, but he doesn’t deserve that.

The sun is setting when you finally find the time to slip into his room.

As expected, he’s still asleep. The anesthetic will take some time to wear off. From the looks of the surgeon’s notes, the surgery was a success - though you know from the nature and extent of the injury that his road to recovery will be long and winding.

So you seat yourself in the visitor’s chair with a hot cup of tea and an onigiri to stave off your hunger at not finding time for a break any earlier. You had an awful day at work today, two of your patients puked on you, another tried to fight you when you drew his blood, and the senior registrar in the ward assigned you a mountain of paperwork that you only just managed to complete, so you give in to sleep yourself as exhaustion settles into your bones.

“Princess?”

You snap awake at the familiar nickname, ignoring the flush working its way up the back of your neck as you leap to his bedside to check his vitals, only relaxing when you’re satisfied everything’s fine.

“You’re just waking up after a surgery, Oikawa”. When his forehead crinkles in confusion at the sound of his surname, you correct yourself. “I mean - Tooru”. The corners of his cracked lips tilt up in satisfaction.

“Will you stay with me?” Tooru murmurs, eyelids beginning to droop again.

You smile fondly despite yourself. “Do you want me to?” you ask.

He manages to pout even as he’s falling back asleep. “I asked, didn’t I?”

You smooth his hair from his forehead, slotting your hand into his. “Fine, fine. Go to bed, sleeping beauty”.

He huffs an amused breath from his nose before he closes his eyes, contented. Trust Tooru to be shameless enough to cling on to his ex-girlfriend without a shred of awkwardness. You end up staying in his room for hours, watching him sleep.

The heart that you’ve locked away behind bars of bone and steel twitches, just once.

You frown when the nurse catches your sleeve. “A patient’s looking for you” she says, just as you’re about to go off on a short break.

“Who?” you reply, wondering whether it’s Sato-san who vomited this morning, or Imai-san whose blood pressure niggles at your mind. You do not expect the nurse to flush pink as she replies - “Oikawa-san”, describing the sweet young man with lovely brown eyes and such a charming voice.

You slip back into his room when your shift ends. You expect to see a shadow of a man with broken wings, and you do catch a fleeting glimpse of Tooru staring wistfully out of the window, face tilted towards the sun before he turns to you with a wide smile and a pleased - “you came!”

This is the Oikawa Tooru you are accustomed to dealing with. “Stop flirting with the nurses”, you tell him briskly, bustling over to look at his files. “They have jobs to do, don’t use them to carry messages to me.”

“But I’m boredddd.”

“I’m sure you have volleyball videos to watch.”

“I watched them all day today. ‘Sides, I watched all the matches on today already, twice – and I have plenty of time to watch them a third time. I have plenty of time to catch up with you, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

Five years since you broke up to be exact, but you sidestep that fact neatly, pouring over his medical file instead. His doctors’ notes indicate his recovery is promising. He brightens up when you tell him so, playfully complaining that hospital food is shit in a thinly veiled attempt to steal your food, a habit he’s clearly not outgrown. But you’re not all that hungry anyway, so you split your pork bun in half and hand it to him, dropping into the visitor’s chair.

“So how’re you feeling?”

“Like shit. My knee hurts so muchhhh.”

You shrug, careless. “That’s pretty expected, to be honest.”

“Hmph. I thought they’d have taught you some bedside manners in medical school”, he snipes, though the effect is rather lost when his cheeks are comically round and full of food.

You laugh, the stress from your day lifting from your shoulders.

“I seem to forget them when it’s you.”

“So mean”, he pouts, hiding the familiar gleam in his eye that appears whenever he’s trying to analyse his opponents, take them apart. “As punishment, tell me about yourself. What have you been up to these days?”

You decide to treat him like any old friend, giving him the condensed run down of your professional life, how you’ve graduated from medical school (with top marks I bet, he interjects), how you chose to stay in Tokyo instead of returning to Sendai (your parents must miss you he says, and you brush him off with an airy they have other children, they’ll survive), how you chose to work in this hospital because you’re considering a specialisation in Orthopedic surgery (because of your grandma, I bet, he says, and you choose not to correct that, using your silence as a lie).

He in turn tells you about the highlights of his career, how he’s spent a year at EJP Raijin before he was headhunted to the Argentinian league, how he spent four years overseas save for summers back in Japan to train with the national team, how he’s hopeful, even now, of recovering and fighting for his spot on the Olympic roster next year.

You already knew all of that from news alerts on your phone you never forced yourself to delete, diverting him instead with a question about life in Argentina, nodding as he reminisces about his apartment in San Juan where he gets to watch the sun set over the Andes mountains, the kitchen that he stuffed full of Japanese groceries like daishi and mirin and sake and miso in his first year there just so he has a tangible reminder of home.

You stop yourself from wondering whether he thinks about the little home he shared with you with such fondness. That time has passed.

His voice wavers as he spins you stories about his teammates - Matteo, whose family owns a vineyard and taught him to appreciate wine like a proper Argentinian, Miguel, who makes the best empanadas and gets roaring drunk every time they win a match, Gabriel, who takes him to his family’s home in the mountains every other weekend because his grandmother is convinced that a single young man without family in the city will starve if he’s left to his own devices.

It seems his wings were durable enough for him to soar across the oceans, his grit and determination the foundation of the new life he’s built, whole continents away.

“It’s funny how the world works”, you remark off hand. “I never expected to see you again.”

His eyes gleam again. “The universe seems to work in funny ways.”

You start spending breaks in his room, scarfing down your lunch and dinner while he talks your ear off about the horrible sitcoms or ridiculous game shows he’s watched today. You catch him watching a video of Kageyama’s serves and you’re amused when he practically hisses when you comment idly that his kouhai has certainly improved since his high school days.

You ignore his spluttered protests that service records aren’t everything and besides, his own spike serves have definitely won Japan a game or two last year until, with the air of a boy king, he commands you to sit next to him on the hospital bed so he can pull up a compilation of his serves and his best moments.

Years might have passed, but you’re still hopeless at refusing him. Besides, isn’t it better that you distract him from the sorry state of his knee? So you do as he says, ignoring the faint flutter of your traitorous heart as he leans into your side.

“See? I told you my spike serves are amazing?”

“Yes, yes. I already knew that. I watched so many of your practices in university, remember?”

He looks at you strangely. “Did you?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand, eyes boring into yours.

You think of evenings spent sitting on the bleachers, homework in your lap as you watch as the boy you love builds the strength in his wax wings in preparation for his eventual flight. “Yes”, you admit, sheets rustling as you shift away from him, avoiding his perplexed frown. “You were probably too focused on practice to notice.”

You already know you shouldn’t spend so much time in his room, but you’ve spent most of your life doing what you should instead of what you want to so just this once, you ignore rational thought in favour of sentiment.

After all, he’ll be discharged from hospital in a week, then you’ll never see him again.

Tooru promptly proves you wrong the day before he’s scheduled to be discharged.

“I need someone to help me move into my apartment.”

“Hire a mover”, you tell him. You don’t even look up from your notes.

“Already did”, he chirps, undaunted by your apparent disinterest. “But it’d be nice to have a friend who I know will be nice enough to help poor old crippled me put my stuff away.” Then he grins cheekily, “plus I checked with that pretty nurse – Yuna-san was it? Anyway, she told me you’re off tomorrow, so you might as well spend the day with me.”

There goes your excuse to wriggle out of having to spend your rare day off with your ex.

“I have a mountain of sleep debt to pay off”, you protest, but faced with wide brown eyes and an embarrassing wobble of his lip, you comply. Still, you manage to get the promise of a free dinner out of him, so you suppose it’ll do.

Tooru doesn’t have much to unpack, a couple of cardboard boxes of clothes and books, probably because most of his belongings are still in Argentina. He laughs and raises his hands in an attempt to placate you when you lift an eyebrow, first at the lack of kitchen equipment in his furnished apartment, second at the weights and volleyball he tries to smuggle in behind your back.

“You’re not supposed to exercise for at least a month or two”, you cluck your tongue, sighing with disapproval at the furtive look he casts at the volleyball sitting at the corner of his living room.

“I can set while sitting on a stool! Don’t scold me, my heart can’t bear it”. He throws a hand across his face, brow creased dramatically.

Icarus, Icarus. You’ve already fallen once. Will you seek out the sun again?

A string of familiarity loops into a knot over your heart. If you close your eyes and count to ten, you can imagine that you’re eighteen again, chiding the boy you love for practicing too hard. But you’re twenty six now, a full fledged adult who should know better than to dabble in sentiment again (especially when it comes to brown eyed boys who only dream of the sun), so you slash through the threads connecting you to him with a flash of your teeth, bury your beating heart deeper into the dungeon you’ve built years ago of white bone and solid steel.

“Do what you want, but your neighbours will hate you if you keep thumping that damn ball against the wall.” You say, simply, dismissively.

“No one could ever hate me”, he declares with bravado. “I’ll charm them all with my charm and good looks.”

“Ridiculous”, you huff, dumping the last of his clothing into the cupboard. “Where’s the dinner you promised? I want ramen and gyoza at least.”

“So demanding”, he lilts. “I’ll order in. Tonkatsu ramen with char siu, bamboo shoots, extra spring onions with gyoza on the side?”

Your heart struggles against its shackles. He still remembers your order.

“Yes”, you finally say. “You got that right.”

He grins at you cheekily, as if to say of course.

After you gulp down your ramen, devour your gyozas, you pack up, ready to leave. You have an early shift tomorrow, and you’re already dreaming about your soft bed whilst dreading the cup of coffee you’ll have to down tomorrow morning just to stay awake.

He catches your wrist, presses the spare key to the apartment into your hand. “Come back. I want to see you again”, he says, an order and not a plea.

You are about to make up an excuse, tell him anything but the truth that you suspect it’s bad for your heart to keep seeing him again.

“Please” - he adds with a tint of fragility to his voice.

“I’ll be back when I can”, you finally say.

“Tomorrow?” he looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

“We’ll see”, you pry your hand loose from his grasp, slip out the front door.

You stay away for two days, citing your work schedule as an excuse until he wears you down with a barrage of cutesy line stickers aimed at driving home how lonely he is and how much he misses your presence. You’re being dramatic as usual, you text him dryly, but you turn up anyway at his apartment on a Friday night, letting yourself in with an armful of reports and a bucket of oden.

“How’re you doing? Are you listening to your physiotherapist? Eating properly? Sleeping well?”

“You sound like my mother”, he grouses, rolling his wheelchair to the dining table.

You flick at his forehead, he slumps back in his wheelchair. “Stop bullying the cripple’, he wheezes through his chortle.

“You deserve it”, you retort. “Don’t run away from the question. How’re you feeling?”

“It still hurts”, he admits with a mock sniff. “It should stop hurting by nowwww.”

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “That’s to be expected. Your sinews just got stitched together two weeks ago. Not sure why you’d expect any less.”

“Bah, rude. At least you didn’t say I told you so”, he grumbles, spooning oden into his mouth. “That would be insufferable.”

“Well, maybe you’ll listen to me now that I’m actually a doctor”, you inform him pertly, batting away memories of a teenage boy with hazel eyes shouting indignantly at you after practice in the Seijoh gym.

Tooru snorts. “I can’t believe my eighteen year old self was dumb enough to open my future self up to a jab like that”, he complains, chewing on a cabbage roll grumpily.

“We’re all dumb at eighteen”, you remark. “You’re no exception.”

“You were dumb enough to date me”, he teases with a mocking smile.

Your spoon slips from your hand momentarily. It’s the first time he’s alluded to your past relationship.

“I was, wasn’t I”, you say lightly, before turning the conversation to Tooru’s physiotherapy sessions.

You have no wish to delve back into the past, but you’re willing to be his friend since he seems to need one for now.

Tooru’s knee recovers enough for him to shift from his wheelchair to crutches, which he points at you playfully, mimicking a gun every time you pop by for a visit. He seems to plan his physiotherapy session around your schedule, just so he can wheedle you into paying him yet another visit when your shift at the hospital end, bribing you with a cup of coffee with a hint of chocolate from the café across the street that you’ve never found the time to visit.

“Thank you, kind sir”, you say, accepting the coffee with a laugh.

“You’re welcome, my lady”, he answers with a smirk, motioning you to follow him for yet another evening to be spent in his home sitting across him, red ink smeared on your hands as you mark up the reports in your lap.

His façade that he’s coping with his injury just fine slips every so often. You catch him more often than not watching compilation videos of Kageyama and Atsumu at the World Cup this year with a strained expression on his face, or resting his chin on the windowsill whilst staring wistfully at the birds in the sky.

He does not confide about his worries to you. You’re not sure you want him to.

But you can’t explain to yourself the impulse to purchase a bird feeder for his balcony, nor the glow-in-the-dark poster of the constellations that you cart into his bedroom until your heart has to scramble for equilibrium when he thanks you, his smile soft.

“In exchange for all the coffee you’ve bought me”, you reply, turning away to hide all evidence of your heart’s betrayal, the diffusion of blood in your cheeks.

A month passes. Then another.

The crutches get kept in the storeroom. A limp remains, but the degree which his knee can bend increases by the day. His mood improves even further, and you constantly find yourself swerving to avoid his affectionate gazes, his attempts at flirtation.

“You’re looking so pretty today!” he lilts, fitting his arm snugly into the crook of your elbow as you walk down the neon lit streets of Tokyo. He insisted on this outing, and in the custom of your rekindled friendship, managed to convince you to accompany him on your off day so he can get crepes from Harajuku notwithstanding the fact that it takes forty five minutes on the train and his knee still acts up from time to time.

“It’s my first time downtown in a month”, you tell him. “Of course I’m going to dress up.” You don’t tell him you spent far too long in front of your closet, tossing outfits on your bed until you found one that complements you just right.

He buys you trinkets, hair accessories that you’ll never wear, tries to win you ridiculous stuffed toys from the claw machine.

“You’re wasting money”, you scold, wiping the whipped cream from his mouth.

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you”, he tells you, with startling sincerity that you still doubt.

He doesn’t mean it, you tell yourself. It’s just Tooru being Tooru.

You refuse to admit what’s staring you in the face until you have to duck your head to avoid his attempt at pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Goodnight, Tooru”, you manage to say before you bolt off into the night. You check to make sure your heart is still under lock and key.

It is, but it beats resentfully. Tooru, it beats against its bars with frightening intensity. Tooru. Tooru.

You ignore it. You know what’s best for it.

You stay away from him for a fortnight, requesting for a change in your schedule without updating him, taking the other exit from the hospital so you don’t have to see him. You stay away until he manages to wear you down yet again, texting you the most ridiculous conspiracy theories about your absence from his life – you must be abducted by aliens, he texts you once, or your mother forced you to marry some stranger, I can break you out if you just say the word.

He has a guest, you hear another voice, deeper, filled with gravel and intensity, so different from Tooru’s lighter lilt. You do not mean to eavesdrop, but you don’t want to interrupt Tooru when he has a rare guest over, and there’s nowhere else for you wait save for the dusty front step, so you settle yourself in, pen poised to continue your work.

“What did the doctor say? When are you coming back for practice?”

“I’m doing good! The physiotherapist thinks I can try light exercise next week. If all goes well, I’ll be back to practice in a month.”

“Sounds promising.”

“I had a good medical team. And I’m actually resting properly!”

“Shittykawa. Stop sounding so proud about doing what’s necessary for your recovery.”

“Iwa-channnn, stop being mean to meeee!”

Ah, Iwaizumi, of course. You haven’t seen him in years, but you remember him from school, a stoic boy with a good heart. You wonder if he’s changed.

“Are you planning on heading back to Argentina?”

Tooru answers without hesitation. “Of course”, he says airily. “As long as they take me back.”

Your foolish heart shudders with disappointment. Of course. If you run your fingers down his spine, you’ll probably find blooms of wax attached to his very bone.

You are about to stand up and leave when Tooru speaks up again.

“But I’m going to enjoy my time in Japan while I’m back. Did I tell you I reconnected with my ex? She’s great, it feels like I never left.”

The firestorm of blood in your ears nearly drowns out Iwaizumi’s growled ‘piece of shit’ (he truly hasn’t changed after all), the clatter of glassware as Tooru protests that he’s not playing with your heart, he truly cares about you, his sullen silence when Iwaizumi demands what’s going to happen when he leaves Japan for Argentina, when he inevitably leaves you behind (yet again).

Of course.

You know his heart longs for the sky. There is no space for you.

You barely have time to react when the door swings open, Iwaizumi on the verge of storming out. You plaster a smile to your face that does not fool him, but you hang on to it nonetheless, cracks appearing only when he gives you a wide eyed look of sympathy that only pours oil onto the flaming war between your brain and your heart.

“It’s fine”, you say, and though he clearly does not believe you, he bows and leaves anyway.

Tooru stares at you, mouth open, stumbling over himself with apologies and demands for you to tell him what you’ve overheard, but you motion for him to just stop with your hand, wave aside his protest that he means what he said, he truly likes you.

Your heart screeches in delight, but your mind is firmly in the driver’s seat.

“Let’s just pretend I never heard you say that, and we can continue just as before.”

“As friends?” he says, twisting his lips as if the words taste sour in his mouth. He clutches at your shoulders.

“I want more. I want you.”

Your heart thrums in agreement, but you recall assembling the remains of your heart back into your chest whilst kneeling on the cold bathroom floor half a decade ago. The span of five years should have molded you to view your shared past with pragmatism, but your heart seems to have forgotten its lesson. You shake your head.

“There’s no way you truly want me. I don’t think you’ve only ever had space in your heart for anything but your goals.”

Your response emerges more bitter than you intend.

“That’s not true”, he weakly protests. “I care about you.”

Not enough, you refrain from telling him. “Let’s remain friends”, you do say, and he opens his mouth to object again, but at the hard look you give him, he slumps back with a defeated nod.

He tries to respect your decision, never complaining when you keep a careful arm’s length distance from him, though you can feel his heated gaze on you whenever he thinks you won’t notice, hear his quiet sighs whenever you shy away from any accidental touch. He droops when you turn down his invite for lunch with his family when they come down for a visit, citing work even though he knows you’re off for the day.

Still, it’s manageable and he says he needs you, so you return for visits, at least twice weekly, offering encouraging smiles and friendly words when he returns first to light exercise, then to rehabilitative practice a month later, just as he predicted.

He carves out time for dinners with you, taking care to ask about your day, preferring to spin you stories about the pigeons and doves and crows crowding his balcony rather than talking about volleyball or his practice. He insists on escorting you to his apartment after work when you allow him to, offering you his arm with a soft smile that disarms you, dissolves any resistance.

It’s an uneasy equilibrium, but it’ll suffice.

The careful balance you’ve maintained in the space between you and Tooru is shattered when you find you’re not the only one who’s decided to pay him a surprise visit on a Friday night.

“Tooru, ya didn’t say ya got yerself a pretty girl during yer break”, a man with bleach blonde hair wolf whistles appreciatively when you step into the apartment.

“I’m just a friend”, you reply confusedly before Tooru’s shout “Shove off, Miya” confirms that one Miya Atsumu has decided to invade Tooru’s apartment. Well, him and what seems like half the MSBY team, with Hinata Shoyo, Bokuto Koutaro and Sakusa Kiyoomi squashed uncomfortably on Tooru’s tiny sofa, long legs stretched across the living room.

It turns out the MSBY team just finished a game in Tokyo, and Hinata dragged his teammates to visit Tooru in a wholesome bid to cheer him up. You try to excuse yourself after exchanging nods with Sakusa (he hasn’t changed much from his university days) when Miya Atsumu blocks your retreat with a drawled invite for Izakaya and the promise of karaoke after.

Tooru mouths playfully at you don’t leave me alone with these clowns (you’re tempted to point out that he’s very much one himself), and before you can even blink, you find yourself dragged along to the nearest Izakaya, impressed by the amount of food each man polishes off - skewers of chicken hearts and cartilage, bowls of potato salad and rice with braised pork belly, listening to stories of their exploits on the national team together, stumbling into the karaoke bar tipsy from the beers that Miya Atsumu pressed into your hand, head heavy enough to allow him to wind an arm around your waist.

“She’s too old for you, ‘Tsumu-kun”, Tooru trills, inserting himself in between you and Atsumu, mouth taut with aggravation.

“I’m not old, just a year older”, you roll your eyes, as the blonde setter backs away, lips turned up in amusement. Tooru is not placated, muttering how the younger setter is a douche and a sleeze bag as he drapes his jacket over you like a blanket. You nestle against his side, head on his shoulder as his arm rests protectively around you.

Atsumu watches this with raised eyebrows, whistling slowly, opening his mouth to remark that he’s never seen Oikawa so smitten before when Hinata interrupts with a chirped “‘Tsum-Tsum, join me!”, handing him a microphone while bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Karaoke is the most fun you’ve had in ages. Hinata and Bokuto and Atsumu sing all their favourite anime theme songs with gusto - Atsumu even gets misty eyed when he croons Sparkle by Radwimps, reddening when everyone teases him for being a romantic sap, Bokuto shaking his hips to Western pop hits, Hinata showing off his Spanish skills. Sakusa refuses to even touch the microphone but you suppose it’s a win that he’s even in the karaoke booth with all of you.

Tooru slaps away Atsumu’s attempts at handing you any further alcohol, forcing you to down cups of water until you are no longer glassy eyed, but still tipsy enough to agree to sing ridiculous K-On songs with Hintata and Bokuto, not stopping even when Tooru whips out his phone to video the entire performance with an indulgent smile.

“Delete it!” you squeal, losing your balance when you try swiping the phone out of his hands, tripping into his lap instead.

“In your dreams, princess”, Tooru chuckles, his arms snaking around you like a vise.

“Anndd that’s our cue to call it a night”, Atsumu quips, herding Hinata and Bokuto out onto the street, Sakusa heaving an audible sigh of relief. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing you a wink.

“I’m technically his senpai, cheeky brat”, Tooru mutters, the irritation in his voice washing away as you giggle. “C’mon, it’s too late for you to get home and my place is nearer to the hospital so you might as well stay over tonight. You can take the bed, I’ll take the sofa.”

You shake your head, arguing that you couldn’t possibly turn an invalid like him out of his bed but he huffs at the insinuation that he’s anything but well, his knee almost whole again. You give in after he convinces you that it’d be more inconvenient for him to escort you all the way to your own home rather than put you up for the night, and you allow him to loop his arm around yours and lead you back to his apartment.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in his apartment this late, not by a long shot, but it is the first time you’re over with the intention of staying over. The t-shirt you borrow from Tooru hangs off your frame, the scent of the fabric softener Tooru uses is familiar. You would’ve preferred being tipsier to dull your senses, but alcohol would only impair your logic, allow your heart to prevail, so you try to quell the thrumming of your blood in your veins by curling up on a seat by the window with a cup of tea when Tooru emerges from his shower.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, towelling off his hair, frowning when you shake your head. “It’s late, you have work tomorrow, even if it’s the afternoon shift.”

“It’s fine”, you say without turning your head to face him. “Go to bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m insulted, princess. What kind of a man d’you think I am to make his guest sleep on the couch? ”

It’s less dangerous to ignore him, so you pay him no mind, choosing instead to lean your chin in your hand and look up towards the night sky. It soothes you, the moon an old friend, reminding of five years’ worth of quiet nights spent in your own flat, filtering your younger self into adulthood.

“What’re you looking at?” He takes a step forward, kneels down next to you.

“The moon and the stars”, you say dreamily. “They’re pretty tonight.”

A myriad of weather conditions must coincide to allow the stars to even be visible in the polluted Tokyo night sky, but tonight of all nights fate intervenes, the stars align. The sky is cloudless, the full moon hangs heavy, the stars shimmer and dance.

“Are they?” Tooru whispers. “I haven’t noticed.”

You finally turn to look at him. “Why’re you staring at me?”

The unconscious echo of your past - a boy and a girl, falling in love under the same night sky makes his mouth twist wistfully, eyes faded gold.

“Because you are my sun, my moon and my stars. I love you better than anything in the sky.”

Your mouth falls open, your heart suddenly roaring, pounding against its restraints.

“You can’t mean that”, you whisper. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do”, he says, with heartbreaking sincerity. “And I always will.”

Nostalgia, aided by the lingering alcohol in your veins opens the gate to your foolish heart. You want to pretend that you are eighteen again, without a care in the world, indulging in the warmth of his hand on the small of your back, the caress of his breath on your cheek. Your lips beckon his, swallowing the catch of his breath when your hands slide under his shirt.

“Are you sure about this?” His eyes are hungry, almost ravenous, but his hands still hover at the hem of your top.

“Yes”, you murmur, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck. “Please, Tooru - please.”

He carries you into the bedroom, undresses you with shaking hands, chanting your name with reverence, almost a prayer. His eyes darken with desperation and need, unwilling to allow himself any release until you fall apart boneless, caged in his arms.

“Stay with me”, he murmurs, after you’ve both cleaned up a second time, tugging you into bed.

It’s laughable. Five years on, Oikawa Tooru still has the power to make your mind lose all reason (however temporarily). With a single heated look, he commands your heart to break willingly in his hands. How could you not have learnt your lesson? The conversation between him and Iwaizumi merely confirms what you’ve known all this while.

(The sky his heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in)

Even now, you can see the glimmer of golden wax feathers budding along his spine, gleaming under the pale moonlight.

You lie under the covers until his breath evens out, then you stumble out of bed. You force your heart to relinquish the keys to its freedom, handing it back to logic and rationality, pulling on your clothing, folding your borrowed clothing aside.

Tooru mumbles your name, his hand outstretched towards you. “Come back”, he says in his sleep, fragility tinting the edges of his words.

Your fingers miss the doorknob by an inch. You dash your foolish hopes against the darkness of the room, put on your resolve like armour, leave your spare key on the kitchen counter.

Without looking back, you slip out into the night.

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silkentragedies · 3 years ago

Text

A boyfriend sounds good, but…

Non idol! Jung Wooyoung x fem! Reader

3.1k words, Highly suggestive at best, making out, FLUFF, E2L vibes, College AU

Warnings: Mentions of STDs, making out. ( This is so self-indulgent it’s horrible lmao- also, not explicit at all.)

This piece of fiction does not reflect the actions of the real-life Jung Wooyoung. Not meant for minors.

College was supposed to be late night parties and hurried submissions, overdosing on caffeine and woefully unedited essay compilations. College was supposed to be hellish hangovers and greasy weekend brunches in bed, helter-skelter running to part-time jobs and missing classes with snoozed alarms.

You got all of that, of course, but you also got one thing you didn’t ask for, in fact, wished beyond wishes that it wouldn’t happen but of course, your guardian angel was up to some mischief: You got yourself an archenemy.

Jung fucking Wooyoung.

It all started off small, of course; bumping into each other rather violently in the hallways on orientation day ended with your coffee on the floor. Minor detail- his phone had also dropped on the floor.

You apologized profusely- he seemed like an upperclassman with his leather jacket, slim but solid build, a head of double-toned hair and oh were those tattoos peeking out of his collar- no point in causing a ruckus on the first day. You even offered to pay for the damage.

And then he opened his mouth.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

The sheer annoyance in his tone rubbed you the wrong way- obviously you had to respond, you weren’t the only one at fault-

“Sorry, but you weren’t watching where you were going either. So don’t tout the blame to me-”

“Oh, whatever, just keep your money. I can get it fixed myself.”

The audacity of this bi-

“Good for you then, because my offer is off the table now, pretty boy.”

A smirk curled up his lip- “You think I’m pretty?”

“About as pretty as a skunk, especially with that hair.”

You had to tamp down the urge to childishly stick your tongue out at his bemused, mildly annoyed expression before walking past him.

Lamenting the loss of your morning coffee, you hurried your way to the orientation venue. At Least he was an upperclassman. Thankfully you wouldn’t have to deal with him-

“Did you see that hot guy in the leather jacket and that black-blonde hair ?”

Fuck’s sake.

“His name’s Jung Wooyoung and apparently all the upperclassmen already have an eye on him. He’s in our major so we really lucked out, hot guys-wise.”

Fuck’s sake.

Surely you could just avoid him and pretend he didn’t exist?

But no.

Jung fucking Wooyoung turned out to be the apple of the campus’ eye in a matter of 2 weeks. He was as new to the university as the rest of you and yet, managed to look more put together, cooler than the rest of you still struggling to figure out class numbers and professor names.

He was the upperclassmen darling- people drooled over him, wanted to befriend him, and invite him to all the big parties…

and fuck- even the teachers were already wrapped around his infuriating pinky finger. They allowed him to waltz into class 25 minutes late, smile his infuriating innocent smile and chill in the back row, scot fucking free.

A month in, he’d gotten into the Dance Club too- cementing his legendary status in the university. It was unheard of, after all, for a freshman to get into the unattainable Dance Club in his first attempt.

You happened to visit one of the club’s performances one weekend and even you couldn’t ignore the sheer talent he radiated. It only infuriated you more to watch Wooyoung hog the stage’s spotlight with almost no effort- all perfect lines, sharp and clean movements…

It’s fine, you could still ignore his existence

But no.

Another thing about Jung Wooyoung- he found sick pleasure in annoying the living daylights out of you.

It was so juvenile, so high-school, so immature of him- sticking gum in your hair, snapping your bra strap, kicking the back of your chair, striking up nonsense debates with you in class…

And then he had the nerve to laugh in your face when you glared at him with hellfire in your eyes because you were too polite to lash out in front of a professor.

Of course, you exhibited no such restraint outside the classroom.

“You vs Woo” was a commonplace explanation for the commotions that blazed up in the campus courtyard every other day. You were like wolves, the way you snarled at each other, not hesitating to slash at each other with as many cutting words as you could find.

This went on for months, an entire semester marred by an enmity that seemed to stem from nothing- until one day, mister Jung Wooyoung really fucked up.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? FACE ME, YOU COWARDLY WORM!” Your angry yelling and thudding on the door had Wooyoung’s roommates Yeosang and… Choi San? running to open the door to their shared dorm room.

You barged into Wooyoung’s room, unplugging the game he was playing. “What the fuck-”

“You dirty fucking bastard. You shameless shitstain of a fucking human being-”

Slap. Wooyoung reeled back. In all this time, you’d never actually hit out at him physically. It had always been words. Maybe this time he crossed a line?

“You told Changbin I had a fucking STD. THE GALL OF YOU-” You lashed out at him with every few words, pushing Wooyoung further back against the back wall of his room.

“How fucking dare you make assumptions about me like that. you lowlife scumbag.” You snarled in his face, now having him trapped between you and the wall.

You were smaller than him by quite a bit- it was almost amusing to see Wooyoung cowering in front of you, lowkey terrified of what you’d throw at him next.

“Okay okay, fuck, I’m sorry!” He burst out finally, cutting you right across your angry rant. “I didn’t mean it like that!! I swear, I didn’t even know you were the one he was talking about. And I only told him to be safe from STDs, not that anybody had one.”

“What makes you think I’ll believe you, Jung,” You screeched. “You’ve always been a dick in general to me. I wouldn’t put it past you to say something like that and lie to my face about it.”

You back away, almost disgusted at being so close to him, “Seriously, dude. Get fucked.” Flipping him off before leaving, you turn around to look at him still standing where you’d backed him up to, an evil glint in your eye.

“It will be so fucking unfortunate if somebody told the campus gossip blog you had erectile dysfunction and your hookups were all fake.”

Safe to say, Wooyoung never made digs at your sexual activity again.

Neither did he have much sexual activity of his own for a while. Not that there was much sexual activity in your case either.

Maybe it was that exact…starvation that led Wooyoung to behave the way he did.

What was juvenile teasing became more… flirtatious?

Oh gods, what the fucking fuck is going on-

Suddenly, it wasn’t gum in your hair, it was soft whispers against your ear, breath warm against your cheek

It wasn’t kicking the back of your chair, it was leaning in front of you to fistbump Lee Felix on the other side of you until you could smell his intoxicating chocolate-honey-sweat scent.

He’d taken to taking his leather jacket off and sitting through classes (he still turned up late for) in a muscle t shirt that showed off his toned arms-

All of his movements now seemed to be designed to tease the crawling under your skin you hadn’t been able to quench recently-

Not that you were a serial hookup kinda person, but you’d been fairly sexually active until semester exams and Wooyoung’s rumors had brought around quite a dry spell for you.

It was like every action of his sparked something wildfire hot in your head, tension stringing your senses into overdrive- were you imagining it?

Wooyoung was having some troubles with said crawling under-skin himself.

Since when did you wear skinny jeans like that to class? Did you always have such a pretty neck, just waiting to get marked up? Did you always have that sway to your hips when you walked out of class?

The forced abstinence was doing bad things to him.

It did rather amuse him, however, when he could see your breath catch a little from his murmurings in your ear, or squirm in your seat when he spoke to Felix before the professor arrived. It was the little things, truly.

You still fought like a cat and dog though- there was no way the two of you would ever let on that your scope of noticing each other had gone beyond annoyance and rivalry a while ago.

“Fuck no. I’m not doing this fucking project with you. It’s worth half the fucking grade and you’re a numbskull when it comes to this subject.”

“Like I want to deal with you anymore than I have to, sweetheart. You’re pretentious enough in class as it is.”

Fate really loved playing the cliche card with you- of course you got paired up with Wooyoung for one of your semester projects.

No, it definitely wasn’t the teacher that saw you two glaring more at each other more than the whiteboard and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Of fucking course the teacher refused to allow switching of partners or individual grading- it had to be a team effort or you’d both fail the subject. As a team. Yippee-ki fucking yay.

So you two ended up in the library at 11 p.m, two nights before your first check point review, having procrastinated the fuck out of working together until the last possible minute.

Amidst cursing at each other and cups of ramen and iced americano, the two of you found yourself stuck with each other and attempting to build the basis of an acceptable report to present.

Surprisingly enough, Wooyoung wasn’t entirely a lost cause when it came to the subject. He actually made sizable contributions to the report. He even got you some coffee on his break, despite the jibes and taunts you threw at him about going soft- you were the type to hold a grudge.

You were both wandering down the shelves in the library, looking for more references when Wooyoung decided to open his big mouth again.

“You do realize that shitty rumor you put out didn’t really mess with my prospects, right?” Wooyoung was so full of shit. “If anything, I’d be worried about you, sweetheart.”

There it was again. Sweetheart. Another of those taunting things that just riled you up in all the wrong(right) ways. It was like he knew everything you would go weak for and then shamelessly exploited them all.

“Unlike you, Wooyoung, I don’t need people to stroke my ego…or anything else. I can get myself going just fine.”

“If you did know how to stroke anybody’s anything, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have trouble getting some.”

Ohhh, so he wants to play some games!!! Okay then-

You reached out to flick at his ponytail, ever-so slightly enamoured by how well he pulled off the double-toned look.

“Like you know anything about how to please in bed, babe.”

It was unfair how much that nickname falling from your lips affected Wooyoung. Some…not very appropriate thoughts had already taken root in his brain and you running your mouth was not helping at all.

“Good enough for them to beg, sweetheart.”

A soft crow of laughter escaped you as you turned to fully face him, the both of you standing between the Greek Architecture and Geography sections.

“You sure you weren’t the one doing the begging?”

“Oh, really now?”

You really should’ve thought through what was leaving your mouth

Because now you were wedged between the shelves and Wooyoung’s (unfairly) toned body, his arms caging you in with that signature shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned closer to you-

The tension was almost atrocious now, suffocating you when it had only previously nudged at you. You could feel it settle under your skin, in your veins, fingers itching to reach out and pull him closer

But you kept your hands braced against the shelves- you would not give him the satisfaction of making the first move yourself…right?

Fuck, you really wanted to though-

It had be the late hour leaving you with lesser inhibitions than normal or possibly the pent up horny in your system or maybe the questionable direction your conversation was headed in

There was no other plausible reason for your arch nemesis’ lips to look that inviting

It must’ve been the way your attention flitted from his eyes to his lips that gave you away, a momentary lapse of self-control before you looked away, off to some point behind his shoulders-

And he smirk only widens

“You know, nobody really visits this corner of the library.”

“Your point?”

Both your voices were whispers now, your bodies close enough to touch but not quite, Wooyoung’s face a few inches away from yours and holding your gaze

(He had honey flecks in those dark eyes, 7 on one side and 4 on the other, like gold leaf in coffee)

“We could easily find out who begs for who…”

He still hadn’t touched you yet, his hands placed on the shelf on either side of you- you could move out from the space if you so wished-

Despite the tension between the both of you, it seemed like… like he was waiting for you to make the first move, voice your consent, act on it

How considerate, you thought to yourself as you let your sight wander to either side, checking for people

Surprising you found Jung Wooyoung’s one possible redeeming quality like this, mind hazy and barely restraining yourself from kissing the living daylights out of him-

Oh well, fuck it

A soft sound left Wooyoung as you curled your hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face to yours, lips meeting in a soft, hesitant kiss

How dare he be a good kisser too?

One hand reached up to cup your cheek and you instinctively tilted your head into the warmth of his palm as the kiss deepened

Unfair that he could take your breath away so effortlessly

There was nothing hesitant about the way Jung wooyoung kissed you back

Lips pressing more persistently against yours, teeth grazing your lower lip and pulling slightly before diving in again, hand now curled around the back of your neck

His other hand caressed your side and gripped your hips as he pressed you gently against the shelves, your arm slipping down to clutch at the front of his shirt as his body molded all too perfectly against yours

You could feel him everywhere

Everywhere

From the way his lips had begun to land messy kisses against your jaw and neck, the hand on your hip tightening and slipping under your shirt to clutch at soft skin, hips flush against yours

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from Wooyoung, your head spinning at the intoxicating feeling he brought with him

The sensation of his mouth against your neck was almost euphoric, your head lolling back against the books and leaving you to pull your lower lip between your teeth, an almost futile feeling bid to keep silent, you’re still in public

Somehow your hands wound up in his hair, pulling the double-toned strands as his head dipped lower, a quiet groan from Wooyoung your only pointer that he liked it

So this is why he was so sure of himself, your mind temporarily blanking when Wooyoung’s teeth pulled against the sensitive skin, biting and sucking gently

A choked, uneven sound escaped your mouth when he pushed you harder against the shelves, hand reaching lower to squeeze your butt-

A smirk lit up his eyes as he straightened up to look at the line of red- blue blooming across your neck, then at you, cheeks warm and still biting your lip, looking resolutely away from his gaze

“Weren’t we supposed to be working on the project?”

This little buzzkill.

You didn’t work on the project that night

You spent it in Wooyoung’s bedroom, getting railed within an inch of your life.

Not without the lack of the both of you being absolutely unable to keep your hands off each other on the way there

Between the library and his dorm, you pulled or got pulled into shady alleys and corners for ‘another taste’

“Never again.” You warned him when he dropped you off at your dorm, you looking windswept from the wind of course and his hoodie up because of the cold not because his neck was more purple than tan-

Lies.

Your daytime dynamic remained the same

But now with added benefits-

He got to corner you after class, feel you up until you were gasping his name and then leave you hanging

You got to make brazen moves under the table in the library whenever he got too snarky for his own good

He could ask nicely, you learnt. Broken groans and choked-up sounds would escape him when you ran your nails over his skin, soft and sharp and wanting and unyielding as you kissed your way down his body

Down his neck, over his chest, the hard planes of his stomach

He would plead for more when you sucked him off, bucking his hips closer to you everytime you slowed down or stopped

Find him at the right time, though and he could just as easily return the favour

He would tease you relentlessly, hands ghosting everywhere dangerous and then pulling away just to watch you squirm and make grabby hands at him, a frown marring your kiss- swollen lips

Leave conspicuous marks too high up on your neck for you to cover, dark enough for a day or two that even makeup left shadows

Spending a long, long time between your legs only to get up and start dressing, claiming to be late for class

Quickies were your religion at this point

Janitors closets locked and hand covering your mouth to muffle your moans before a dance competition, empty bedrooms in frat parties with one of you getting pushed onto the bed

It was an infernal coupon from hell : Find one archrival, get a fuck buddy free of cost!

Of course, there were side effects

“Did you just walk out of that empty classroom with Jung Wooyoung? After class hours?” “We were studying for the midterms!!”

“Uh.. Wooyoung, who was that leaving the dorm building? at 1 in the morning?” “uh yEAH WE WERE DOING THE PROJECT YEAH.”

Yeah, a boyfriend sounds nice but an archenemy you can make out with in secret sounds ravishingly pleasing-

When the boy in question is a certain young man with double toned hair with a penchant for leather jackets and out-of-line snark, you couldn’t agree more.

Yes, this is a revamp and repost from my main account xD. Like I said, this was self indulgence to the peak 😩 I'm a tad whipped for snarky boy Jung Wooyoung 😀

Do lemme know what you think ^_^. xoxo, A💕

Possibly interested parties: @aliceu @whiteprincessofnohr

(drop me an ask to be added or removed! )

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #ana.writes ateez #atz #atz x reader #atz imagines #atz smut

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y0itsbri · 4 years ago

Text

it's just a fuckin' dresser, man

To ease the pain of a Shameless-less Sunday, I wrote my first one-shot about Ian and Mickey building furniture together for their new apartment <3

word count: 1282

Mickey and Ian were finally settling into their new apartment. They had the space, sure, but no one told Mickey that picking out furniture was a lot more fucking work than he thought it would be. Wherever Mickey lived, things were already just there. Whether it be his childhood bedroom, which was practically all hand me downs from Iggy and Colin after they escaped the house, the standard juvie set, or any of the rooms in the Gallagher house, previously inhabited by god knows how many fucking Gallaghers before him. Mickey wasn’t used to owning things. But lately, Mickey was experiencing a lot of new things he never thought he would have.

After a quick trip to IKEA with only minimal arguments, “Really, Gallagher, that shit looks like it belongs at a free clinic – and that ain’t a compliment.” “Mickey, what the fuck, we’re supposed to be picking out a lamp, not scarfing down an entire plate of meatballs.” Mickey had absolutely zero regrets about the meatballs and would absolutely be going back solely for those bad boys.

Now assembling the dresser looked like a goddamn nightmare. After a few moments of bickering over who was doing what, Ian took a step back and let Mickey try his hand at putting together the fucking thing while Ian was just hovering only a couple feet away.

Ian’s face scrunched up as he rifled through a thick stack of papers next to their massive stack of empty boxes next to the door to take outside whenever they got around to it.

Mickey glanced up from the small metal tools in his hands and noticed Ian’s confused furrowed expression. He allowed himself to admire how cute his husband was for a brief moment before schooling his own creeping smirk. “What’s up, man?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

There was a too-long pause as Ian continued to study the piece of paper in his hands, flipping it over and upside down. Mickey wasn’t even expecting a response when Ian finally said, “I think we got a defective manual. None of these instructions are in fucking English.” He mumbled a bit in broken French and German before it got too much to bear.

Mickey snickered at his husband’s lame attempts to translate. “Who the fuck cares? I got this shit anyways.”

Ian twitched his head to the side and didn’t even try to stop his eyes from rolling up to the ceiling as if to say, Yeah, okay Mick.

Whatever, maybe it has been a half hour of seemingly little to no progress, but Milkoviches don’t need to read instruction to get shit done, goddamn-it. Hell, Mickey wasn’t even sure half his family knew how to fucking read.

Ian continued murmuring anyways as he scanned the page. His voice perked up with realization, “Ah hold up, introducir dos bloqueos cam en el panel central. Asegúrese de que la flecha de la leva esté apuntando al borde corto.”

Although Mickey was damned to listen to the instructions against his will, he couldn’t help but find Ian endearing. The guy was slow, but his pronunciation wasn’t the worst. Maybe he’d taken that shit in high school or something. Mickey recalled his own struggles learning Spanish in Mexico, and he wondered how well Ian would have been able to keep up if he didn’t disappear once they had finally reached the border. Whatever. Mickey pushed that thought aside. That part of his life was long over, even if he still carried the ink in his skin in the form of Lado sur siempre.

Despite his best efforts to blatantly ignore the instructions and figure it out his damn self, it’s just a dresser for Christ’s sake, Mickey found himself understanding most of the directions in Spanish, even if it was some corporate Swedish based bullshit from people who’ve never actually had to build one of their own goddamn dressers a day in their life. Mickey only sort of understood what a couple of the tools were for and tried to use those for everything, feigning confidence of some secret building skills.

Ian paused his readings to take a sip from his vanilla Coke sitting on the floor next to them, and Mickey paused unconsciously as well, too in synch with Ian than he would care to admit. He quickly continued, hoping that Ian wouldn’t pick up on the fact that he did, in fact, need the instructions. Of course, nothing got past the sly bastard and Ian smirked at him.

“Oh, so you got this all by yourself, right Mick?” Mickey could have sworn he saw Ian’s eyes fucking twinkle as he teased him.

Mickey promptly flipped him off without looking up, feeling the blush creep up on his cheeks at the idea of being caught, “You can just shut the fuck up man.”

Miraculously, for once, Ian didn’t continue, studying Mickey’s moves with a growing intensity as Mickey’s attempts at connecting the drawers were becoming more and more apparently clueless. Ian was waiting for him to crack and finally admit he needed help. Ian was prepared to wait for however long his stubborn husband decided to take.

“’ey,” Mickey mumbled, working himself up as his progress was stunted.

“Yeah?” Ian asked, pretending to have no idea what Mickey could possibly be ‘ey-ing him about.

“If you wanted to, uh, keep reading and practice your stupid Spanish, I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Yeah, okay sure Mick,” Ian triumphed. Their communication skills have definitely improved over the past few months, and even when they weren’t direct, they just got each other.

Mickey wouldn’t accept his defeat this easy and made another feeble attempt to play off his true motives. He cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip, “You just sound like a fucking gringo, man.”

Ian shook his head, obviously not accepting Mickey’s excuses. But hell, his Spanish did need some practice. He plopped onto the bed beside Mickey and held up the instruction manual dramatically, the pages making a thwumping sound as it bent with the air. He continued, “Coloque y fije el lado inferior izquierdo del cajón y el lado inferior derecho del cajón utilizando tornillos de cuatro de una pulgada.”

Despite understanding most of the instructions, Mickey bullshitted his way through it and ended up with a handful of leftover parts on the floor in front of him.

Ian leaned over and glanced at the small pile, “Huh, they must not be that important.”

Mickey lightly punched him in the arm but settled next to Ian on the bed, “Oh whatever I told you I got this.”

Ian frowned and rubbed over the sore spot on his arm before throwing his heavy arm around Mickey’s shoulder, admiring the finished product, “This is perfect.”

As much as Mickey wanted to grumble about all this fucking work, he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. It looked like a damn dresser that’s for sure. Their dresser in their room in their apartment, as husbands. He never imagined he would have all of this. He decided that he would read a thousand fucking instruction manuals if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with the dumbass ginger hanging off of him. He shifted his weight so that he was leaning into Ian’s side a bit more.

“It’s just a fuckin' dresser, man,” Mickey practically breathed the words against Ian’s tee shirt, his tone completely reflecting how he was feeling underneath the harsh words.

Mickey felt Ian press a gentle kiss onto the top of his head. But yeah, it wasn’t just a fucking dresser. They were building their life together.

#this is the first thing ive written #if it sucks look away #my posts #fic #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich fanfic #shameless fanfic

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jamaiskookie · 4 years ago

Text

Yoongi Doesn’t Romance [myg x reader]

✂︎ warnings: excessive cursing, bad writing

✂︎ word count: 6.6k (I meant to write a very short drabble… aHAHHA)

✂︎ genre: it’s.. literally just crack. Good dosing of cheesy romance and overused cliches

✂︎ A/N: it took awhile but we here!!! with a short drabble but still!!! hope you enjoy this cringey fluffy fic full of shameless jimin and shy yoongi- arguably the best yoongi

masterlist asks

✂︎ synopsis: yoongi isn’t great at expressing feelings- especially with how nervous he gets around you. alternatively titled: yoongi sucks at romance

“... and I don’t understand why you’re so hell bent on denying it! You obviously have a crush on him!” You roll your eyes at Namjoon, flicking your index finger at his forehead and watching as he flinches and lets out multiple sounds of pain, which you promptly ignored.

“I’m denying my crush because he so obviously doesn’t like me back! He hates me, Joon. He literally detests me.” You say, jumping back onto the stained and cluttered couch that occupies most of you and Namjoon’s shared dorm.

“And I’m telling you that you’re overthinking it,” Namjoon says, chewing on some popcorn. “I don’t think he hates you, you’re just exaggerating things.”

“I am not!” You protest, swinging your head around to look Namjoon dead straight in the eyes. “He hates me! He practically leaps out of the room whenever I’m around.” Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by Taehyung, who is currently seated two feet away on a small thrifted chair.

“Shhhhhhhh-” His eyes are still fixated on the TV screen, watching the random nature documentary playing that you and Namjoon had long ago abandoned. You and Namjoon both watch Taehyung for a second amusedly as he attempts to stuff popcorn kernels in his mouth and completely misses the mark. You’ll have to remind him to clean up the floor later.

“But,” Namjoon whispers to you, “Literally every time you aren’t around I swear all he can do is run his mouth on and on about you.”

“Not true!” You yell, squeaking out a quick apology to Tae, who glared at you for interrupting the segment on apes. Something about how apes can learn languages, but you’re not too sure. “Lies!” You hiss, elbowing Namjoon in the rib.

“Ow-!” He jumps back, wincing. “Why do you always resort to violence?” You didn’t have an answer to that question, unfortunately. “And I’m not lying! I swear on my bonsai trees he always asks where you are whenever you don’t show up to stuff.”

“Maybe he just wants to know how much glorious time he has left before he has to face me again.” You offer, tearing open what must be your third dorito family pack of the night. (It’s fine, you’ll burn it off by running to class tomorrow when you’re inevitably late once again.) “Namjoon, face the facts: he only tolerates my presence occasionally because we share a couple of mutual friends. If it weren’t for you and the other guys, he would’ve already started a hate club for me, I’m sure of it”

Namjoon stared at you exasperatedly, before muttering something that very suspiciously sounded like ‘God you’re such a dumbass’ before taking out his phone to swipe through Tinder, not uttering another word to you.

Despite Namjoon’s utter and complete lies, you don’t exaggerate anything when it comes to Min Yoongi. Not his hatred towards you, or how he speaks two words maximum every year directed at you, or your massive slight crush that you’ve harboured for him, or how cute he looks with beanies on, or how you almost fainted that one time you saw him playing basketball, or- well, you get it.

The point is, you can’t acknowledge your crush on Yoongi (Even though everyone around you is fully aware of it) because he seems to completely resent you and your existence for no reason in particular. Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin, and many others insist that he doesn’t hate you as much as you think, but you dismiss their stupid assumptions time and time again. You’d love to believe them, but the evidence and first hand experiences you’ve had says otherwise.

✂︎

Exhibit A: He seems to avoid you on campus, or anywhere you go. This one is actually quite impressive considering the classes you two share. You’ve never seen someone go so out of their way to ignore someone they don’t like. It’s pretty commemorable. Whenever you sit in the same row as him during a lecture, he’ll move seats. One time you waved at him at a coffee shop and he just strangely blushed, and bolted out of there faster than you could say ‘rejected’. Taehyung ended up saying it, all while laughing his ass off. (You made him pay for your coffee that day.) Everytime you head over to Jimin’s dorm, he’ll just blankly stare at you two and march straight towards his room and lock himself in there until you leave. He even gulpes and swerves away when he sees you in a hallway.

You know, that awkward thing when you’re heading the same direction so obviously you’d try and be slightly friendly and wave or something but then he’ll just suddenly turn around, navigating through the crowd of angry, late students and facing all that social pressure just so he doesn’t have to waVE BACK AT YOU- okay, maybe you aren’t as over this incident as you thought.

Exhibit B: He won’t speak to you or touch you or interact with you in any way. Okay, maybe ‘in any way’ is a teensy bit exaggerated, but he definitely seems to find trouble when you two are left alone for some strange reason. He seems to be fine when all your other friends are around, but he just looks so uncomfortable when it’s just you two. He won’t look you in the eye, and he’ll just mutter incomprehensible sentences under his breath.

A couple months ago you attempted to hold a decent conversation with him in the kitchen of Jin’s fancy ass apartment. After many awkward silences that you had to fill up with your timid and boring small talk, he just mumbled something and you had to watch him go into the bathroom and scream. Either he was having some really bad explosive diarrhea, or having to talk to you was just that excruciating. Apart from intense Uno game nights or when he’s under the influence of alcohol, you’ve never even heard Yoongi raise his voice!

How is it possible that just by talking to you, he feels the urge to scream? You aren’t that boring, you think-! Actually, now that you think about it, you did try and bring up sea otter fun facts as a conversation starter, so maybe that’s why he had to scream.

Personally, you think that sea otters are the most adorable creatures to ever grace the earth, but Yoongi does seem like the kind of guy to prefer bats or something like that.

Exhibit C: The elbow incident. This haunts you to this day, not just from the horrible humiliation, but if the two previous exhibit’s weren’t convincing enough, this was real cemented evidence that Min Yoongi hates your guts.

You were talking to Jimin about the significance of ‘Phineas and Ferb’ in the cinematic industry, when your dumbass had tripped and caught yourself on Min Yoongi’s fucking arm (His bicep, on a completely unrelated note, was much bigger and stronger than you had thought, which was a complete other source of anxiety.) You would much rather fall on the ground and break all your bones, because the look on Yoongi’s face as he stared down at you clutching his arm like some sort of idiot, could only be described as disgust or horrified. Maybe both. You immediately let go, of course, and blabbered out apology after apology, but all he did was just stare and blink owlishly at you.

You proceeded to blush madly and run away, hiding your face in Jimin’s chest, which was, in hindsight, not a good idea, considering how hard he was laughing at the time. (What you didn’t see was Yoongi staring from behind you, deciding to never wash the hoodie he was wearing ever again.)

So, that concludes your argument against Namjoon’s preposterous claim that ‘Yoongi doesn’t actually hate you Y/n, it’s all in your head’ Delusional, that’s what he is. How could someone like Min Yoongi, a person you have literally been drooling over for most of your academic career, a person who single handedly has every sorority girl wrapped around his finger, even tolerate your very existence, much less be attracted to you? No, none of it makes any sense. You’ll continue to hurt yourself by being around him, despite clearly knowing that he detests your presence, and will even deny the crush you’ve somehow managed to build up for him.

Because even though it hurts to see him flinch and ignore you, you truly do think that Yoongi is one of the greatest people to ever walk on this shitty earth. He’s caring, even if he does pretend to not care, he’s smart, passionate, ambitious, and you’d be absolutely lying if you said you haven’t dreamed of pinching those squishy cheeks he seems to hide away so often.

If only you knew why he hated you so much.

✂︎

All the way across campus, Yoongi was having a similar breakdown while Jimin looked on anxiously.

“God fucking dammit!” He screamed. The sound comes out slightly muffled since Jimin can only hear what he’s saying through the pillow that Yoongi currently has his face buried in. He kicks his legs up and whines, hitting the bed with his hands. Jimin is suddenly reminded of his 4 year old cousin who threw a tantrum when she didn’t get the doll she asked for.

“And then you know what I said, Chim?? Do you kNOW?” Yoongi’s been screaming for the past thirty minutes or so. Jimin’s surprised that nobody on campus has come pounding on their door telling them to shut up yet.

“Please, do enlighten me.” Jimin murmurs, picking at his nails.

“I said ‘Salutations’ AND THEN I RAN OUT THE FUCKING CLASSROOM.” Yoongi tilts his head up from the pillow and groans, scrunching his nose up at the embarrassing thought.

“At least it’s not as bad as the time you screamed in the middle of the street when she touched your shoulder… right?” Jimin offers timidly, forcing a smile on his face. An angry, sleep deprived Yoongi is already scary enough, but he’s ten times more intense when the source of anger comes from you.

Honestly, sometimes he wonders how effective it would be if he could just lock Yoongi and you in a room and force you two to admit your feelings for once. (Until he mentioned this idea to Namjoon, who dejectedly informed him that they’ve already tried that.) ((Yoongi broke out of the room using a bobby pin and sheer force of will)) He’s never even seen a pair so smart, and yet so obliviously naive. Anyone with functioning two eyes could see the horribly obvious feelings the both of you shared for each other. In fact, for the first couple months upon meeting Yoongi, he thought that you were his girlfriend, based on how much he talked about you. That assumption carried on when he met you, until Jin told him that the two of you were just in a weird phase of dumbasses who kinda flirt.

It’s not Yoongi’s fault that he’s so bad at having actual emotions that aren’t the tears of joy that he sheds whenever he gets free coffee from the barista at the local cafe, and it’s not your fault that your self esteem is too low to recognise that Yoongi basically worships you.

In theory, you two are a match made in heaven. Both just as stupid as the other.

“How do you do feelings, Jimin?” Yoongi sits up from the bed, and Jimin thinks that the tear tracks and defeated look on his face is a tad bit dramatic, but he chooses not to comment on it, for fear of his own life.

“... what?”

“You know, feelings. How do you romance?”

“... what?”

Yoongi, completely exasperated, throws his hands up in the air and turns around to face Jimin. “Everytime I try to talk to her by myself it’s like I’m a fish out of water. I get way too nervous, and then she starts talking about otters, and she’s way too pretty so I obviously start freaking out! I don’t know, you and Jungkook have been dating for a year now, right?” Jimin nods.

“How’d you do that.”

“... Are you asking me how I got a boyfriend or-? Because I assure you that 85% of getting Kookie to be my boyfriend had to do with my great ass, so I can’t really help you out there- ” Jimin laughs as he watches Yoongi squeal and cover his hands over his ears.

“Can I ask you for relationship advice without hearing about your sex life, please?” Yoongi pleads. “I know too many unnecessary things about how Jungkook is in bed.”

Jimin decides to put his friend out of his misery. He places a hand on his shoulder, and shoots him a soft smile.

“Yoongi, my young grasshopper- ” He retracts the hand when he sees the deathly stare Yoongi is looking at him with, but so far so good, “- there really isn’t much to it. Tell her you like her, and in the very, very, extremely small chance that she rejects you, so what? It’s not like you’re going to spend the rest of your life getting ov- ” Jimin’s voice falters again when Yoongi’s stare intensifies.

“You don’t get it!” He complains, throwing himself back onto the bed once again. “You’re all good at this sort of stuff!” Jimin tilts his head in confusion. “You know, relationships! Talking to people! And I’m pretty sure Y/n is the love of my life, so I’m literally going to break down if she rejects me! I’m going to cry for days, I already know it!” Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, pouting at nothing in particular.

“She’s so perfect, smart, nice, caring, funny, strong and incredible. It hurts that she’s never going to like me the way I like her.”

“You know, Yoongi, if you never talk to her, she’s never going to know you feel that way.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, while it takes all of Jimin’s strength to restrain himself from not throwing Yoongi out of the window.

Once he’s absolutely sure that Yoongi is fully asleep, he pinches the bridge of his nose and rolls his eyes. After a few quick taps, he brings his phone up to his ear.

“Guys, I can’t deal with him anymore. We have to do something.”

✂︎

“I would like to, once again, reiterate that I am 100% against this idea.”

“Shut up, Namjoon.” Namjoon grumbles something about being unappreciated, but continues to speak up.

“It’s a bad idea, Chim. Logically, there’s only a small chance this will work out in our favour, and if it doesn't, I’m at least certain that Yoongi will dislocate all of our limbs until we’re a pile of human flesh.”

Jimin dismisses the thought. “Yoongi would never do that to us.”

“Of course he would,” Taehyung piped up. “Do you remember the time he dyed my bright pink because I made fun of Y/n for her stupid heart patterned boots and she cried?” 10 pairs of eyes slowly looked up at Taehyung.

“Well, that’s justified, we all want to murder you.” Taehyung gasps at Jin, who smiles back at him in return.

“And also, you were being a huge asshole that day and you totally deserved it. The pink hair didn’t even look that bad.” Tae smiles proudly at Jimin.

“That’s true, I fucking slayed with that pink hair. I kinda miss it, actually… ” He hums thoughtfully, scratching his chin. Jimin looks away and scoffs. Taehyung’s one of his oldest friends, but sometimes he gets a little too art-kid-college-dropout-hipster for him to handle.

“Do you guys think I should dye my hair pink again?” Nobody answers his question.

“Tae might be an absolute douchebag, but he has a point. We all know how protective Yoongi is over Y/n. Are you willing to potentially risk your life if this doesn’t work out?” Curse Namjoon for being logical. Maybe Yoongi killing him is a bit of a stretch, but he would make Jimin’s life a living hell if this operation ended up a failure.

Nevertheless, he continues to insist. “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen? I physically can’t stand Yoongi stomping around the dorm because he’s emotionally incapable of working out his feelings anymore! Yesterday he fell asleep in my bed. My bed, Namjoon. For such a tiny man, he’s really fucking heavy, I couldn’t move him and had to crash on the couch for the night. If this doesn’t end up working, Yoongi will just go back home and mope around all day long. Nothing different from what he’s doing now.”

“Um, what’s the worst that could happen?“ Namjoon asks incredulously. “How about if Yoongi finds out we tricked him, invites us to a murder mystery party, but then decides to kill us instead, and covers it up by burying our cold hard, deAD bodies in a highly unhygienic GRAVEYARD? What will you do if that happens, Jimin?“

“..........“

Nobody says anything to Namjoon, and the boys turn to Jimin once again. Shaking his head, and attempting to ignore... whatever the hell Namjoon just did, Jimin speaks.

“Oh come on guys!” He shakes his shoulders and lightly taps his foot against the ground. “Aren’t you guys tired of dealing with these two dumbasses too?” A murmur of agreement seems to go around the group, and Jimin breaks into a huge smile.

“Well, gee,“ Namjoon mumbles sarcastically. “Why don’t you just make a Namjoon Facebook hate group?“ Taehyung shushes him.

Beside him, Jin and Jungkook are exchanging money, clearly for some kind of bet. What the bet entails, Jimin has no idea, but he doesn’t have the time to question them right now.

“So, we’re in?” Everyone slowly begins to nod, all except Namjoon. Jimin beams, looking up expectantly at him. Namjoon bites his lip, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fine.” He grumbles out, not acknowledging Jimin’s shouts of joy. “If this goes wrong though, you bitches better be fucking responsible.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re all on board, because Hoseok is already here.” Jimin happily smiled up to find Hobi shuffling through the cafe doors, waving enthusiastically at him. He also decides to ignore the collective round of groans and ‘Jimin!’’s that went around the table.

“Why did you even ask us for our opinions if you already planned this out anyway?” Jungkook hisses, awkwardly smiling at Hoseok.

“Because you guys can never say no to me!”

“That’s only because of how fucking annoying you are, Chimmy.” Jin moves over in order to let Hoseok sit, even though he doesn’t look overjoyed at having to abandon his favourite seat.

“Well, all of you look super happy to see me.” Hobi jokes, immediately picking up Namjoon’s milkshake to take a sip.

“Sorry that you had to get dragged into all this bullshit, Hobi,” Namjoon says, pushing his milkshake towards him and sticking a second straw in the cup.

“No problem! I love pissing Yoongi off!” The group slowly stares at Hobi, who is still cheerfully sipping at Joon’s milkshake.

“Well,” Taehyung mutters. “What else do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Drowning yourself in lava?”

“Taehyung, play nice. Some people are just special. Anyways, here is the plan for Operation: Delusional Idiots Who Need To Make Out.”

“... Can’t we shorten that?”

“Yeah, seems pretty lengthy.”

“How about Operation: DIWNTMO? Like, pronounced as diwinteemo?”

“That’s… even worse, somehow.”

“Let’s just shorten it to Operation: Delusional Idiots.”

Six voices, in the middle of the busiest cafe on the school campus, suddenly shout out the words ‘Operation: Delusional Idiots!’, and a cheer goes around the table.

Onlookers wonder if they are referring to themselves.

✂︎

In hindsight, Namjoon was probably right. But Jimin can be extremely convincing sometimes, and Jin takes every opportunity to throw a party, so maybe Namjoon was fighting a lost cause in the first place.

He ponders what he wants his tombstone to say, while pacing around Jin’s apartment, where the party is already going on, full force. Maybe something like ‘Kim Namjoon (1994-2020) Murdered by Min Yoongi at a house party.’ Well, at least if he really does die tonight, it would be a good night for it.

Namjoon has many complaints about Seokjin. He could probably pull up a never ending list of the girls and guys who have come complaining to him for his friend’s mistakes, screaming about how Jin broke their heart, so and so. But, even he has to begrudgingly agree, Kim Seokjin throws one hell of a party.

It was one of those rare nights where you could actually make out the faint stars in the Seoul skyline, where the twinkling of the stars felt peaceful. Namjoon isn’t too much of a party person, but the monsters that he calls his friends go out every Friday night, pulling him along most of the time. He’s gotten used to just camping out on Jin’s fancy apartment balcony, (Seriously, what kind of college kid has a balcony?) avoiding the cheers, loud screaming and horribly unhygienic things that are happening inside.

Unfortunately, thanks to Park Jimin and his horrible ideas, Namjoon is currently wincing in the middle of a huge crowd full of sweaty bodies. He regrets not faking a fever while he could, but it was way too late now. His job tonight was to keep Y/n preoccupied.

“Remember Joonie, under no circumstances can Y/n see Yoongi before Hoseok completes the task. If she even sees a glimpse of him, she’s going to freak out and leave.”

His aforementioned target was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon is starting to worry that all their efforts will go to waste just because you decided it was another Friday to stay in bed and watch Disney movies on repea-

“wHOA!” Another sweaty hand pulls him out from the crowd, and Namjoon stumbles out, breathing heavily.

“Why aren’t you out on the balcony?”

“Why- what- oH! Y/n!”

You stare blankly at Namjoon, who is still rubbing his arm in pain.

“You came!” He says, with a look on his face that you can’t quite decipher.

“What do you mean, I came? Of course I came! It was you and Jin who insisted I come, right?” You dragged him over to the makeshift bar that Jin had set up hours ago on his kitchen island, pouring the both of you strong drinks. You’ll need it to get through the night.

“Right!” Namjoon awkwardly laughs and follows you into the kitchen, craning his neck to lock eyes with Jimin, who then gives him a thumbs up and leans over to whisper to Hoseok.

“Y/n,” He says, patting your back when you start coughing lightly from the shot you just downed. “We’re friends no matter what, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You cut him off, looking around Jin’s apartment. “Wow, it’s pretty empty today. Aren’t there usually like 50 people trying to get into one of these parties?” Luckily for Namjoon, who was almost sweating and about to cry trying to come up with an excuse to satisfy you, you ignored him and continued talking.

“Whatever, it’s fine. The less, the better.” You’re still looking around the crowds when you grab a hold of Namjoon’s shoulders, turning him towards you. “Yoongi’s not here, right?”

“What? hahahHHAHAHA nO of course not!”

“Oh okay,” You breathe out a sigh of relief. “I look terrible today, I would not be able to face him.”

“You look great today! What do you mean…!” Hopefully you dismiss the bead of sweat trailing down from his temple. It is pretty hot in here.

Apparently, it took multiple threats, to Yoongi’s coffee machine and lots of bargaining from Jimin to convince him to attend the party, but it seemed to have worked, considering that Namjoon could make out the dark figure of Yoongi, dressed in a black hoodie and ripped jeans in the corner of the room, chatting to Jungkook. His eyes, however, were riveted straight beside him, on Y/n.

“They really are idiots.” Namjoon muses to himself.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung is waving his arms around trying to catch his attention. He mouths something that Namjoon can’t quite make out, so he just mouths a ‘what?’ back at him and shakes his head.

Namjoon can almost hear Taehyung sigh from across the room.

You’re still pouring your second shot, so you don’t notice as Hoseok walks slowly from the living room. Namjoon has actually never seen his friends more concentrated on anything in his life. Even Seokjin, who was, just a second ago, dancing with some guy that Namjoon isn’t even sure he knows, has now pushed the stranger away, completely fixated on Y/n, who is blissfully oblivious to the attention focused on you.

“Hey…!” Hoseok slowly slides in, real fucking smooth, if Namjoon could add, beside Y/n leaning on his forearm and smiling up towards her. Namjoon has to commend Jimin for the execution of Operation: Delusional Idiots. He’s honestly never seen Jimin put this much work into anything.

Hoseok was the only mutual friend they knew of that Yoongi was familiar with, but not Y/n. Jimin said that he had considered Jackson for a short while, before realising that Jackson can’t talk to girls for shit. At least Hoseok can force his thoughts into some semblance of order when he’s flirting.

“Oh! … Who,” You furrow your brows at Hobi, and Namjoon slowly backs away against the kitchen wall. “Are you?” Hobi laughs and spins around to face you.

“I guess you don’t know me. I’m Jung Hoseok,” He sticks his hand out and you tentatively shake it, making him grin. “I’m friends with Namjoon.” He points up at Namjoon, and Joon awkwardly smiles, waving back at the pair.

“Ohh,” You say, nodding. “Hi! Nice to meet you!” Sometimes Namjoon worries about you. You’re way too friendly and nice for your own good.

“I’m a dance major, actually. You can call me Hobi, by the way.” He smiles at you and finally lets go of your hand. “Are you sure we’ve never met before?” You shake your head, murmuring incoherently. “No, I didn’t think so. I’d remember you if we met.” You giggle and push him aside playfully, offering him a drink. Hoseok accepts it with a smile even wider than the last.

(Namjoon is now a little skeptical about Hoseok’s claims of flirting skill, but thankfully, you are, admittedly, a little stupid when it comes to this kind of stuff. You probably won’t even notice Hobi’s flirting with you at all.)

From the corner of the room, Yoongi’s deep gaze is now glaring deep into Hoseok’s back, but Hobi either seems to not notice or acknowledge it. He continues to stare at Y/n, laughing at whatever comes out of your mouth.

“You’re a dance major? That’s so cool!” You gush, and if he didn’t know you so much, Namjoon would think that you were flirting back. No, you were just that naive.

“- Thanks!” Hobi suddenly laughs at something that Namjoon didn’t manage to catch, but what he does catch is the look on Yoongi’s face when Hobi touches your forearm.

Even Jungkook, who was talking to Yoongi, gulped and took a step back. Jin gestures something to Jimin, and Jimin shoots back an enthusiastic thumbs up. He then shouts something over to Namjoon, but he can’t quite hear over the loud party noise.

Based on his own mediocre lip-reading skills, he either said ‘It’s going well’ or ‘Jungkook smells’ He’s thinking maybe it’s the first. Namjoon slides away from the kitchen to join Jin, who is happily watching all of this unfold from the sidelines.

“When do you think he’ll break?” Jin says, sipping on a bright blue drink that Namjoon doesn’t even want to know the contents of. He quickly glances over at Yoongi’s face, which is getting redder by the moment.

“Anytime now. His glass is about to explode from his grip.” Sure enough, Namjoon predicted correctly. A few moments later, Yoongi begins to stalk over to the kitchen, and Jin clinks his bright blue monstrous concoction against Namjoon’s glass. Grumbling, Jungkook also comes over and slaps a $10 dollar bill into Jin’s palm, scowling when Jin smiles and accepts it.

“Yeah, so a group of otters are actually called a romp, can you believe that- oomph!” Seemingly popping out of nowhere, Yoongi grabs a hold of your hand, glaring at Hobi.

“Yoongi!” You squeak out. Namjoon, that fucking liar! He left you all by yourself with a new friend and didn’t even bother telling you the love of your life was in the very same room? You didn’t even wash your hair yesterday night! Well, at least someone finally listened to what you have to say about otters… say, that was a bit unordinary, nobody else has ever been interested in your otter fun facts before-

Your trail of thought fades away when you look back up at Yoongi, who is still strangely looking at Hobi. “Um...” How is he holding you right now? He flinches away whenever you poke him on the shoulder, how is he holding your arm right now, completely unaffected? Oh.

Of course Yoongi wouldn’t touch you willingly. He just has to be stupidly noble and moral and save you when you’re alone with a man he isn’t familiar with. “Oh, ah… Yoongi! This is my new friend, Hobi! You have nothing to worry about, I was just talking to him about otters and- oh, nevermind. Anyways, you don’t… have… to… hold my hand anymore.” Well, at least you can save him from the embarrassment of holding your hand any longer.

“Yoongi, Yoon- Yoongi,” He doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you attempt to slip yours out of his. He seems to be gripping on, for a reason you can’t seem to comprehend. All he’s doing right now is maintaining eye contact with Hobi. Instead, he just glares into his eyes, repeating your words.

“Friends. Friends?”

“Yes, friends! Oh, ah, let me introduce you, um, Hobi, this is Yoongi, and Yoongi, this is-”

“Jung Hoseok. You call him Hobi?”

“Well, yes- oh! Do you two know each other, or?”

“Of course!” Hobi says, pouring another drink out. He stretches out his arm and offers the glass to Yoongi, but all he does is stare at the glass, not moving an inch. Still smiling brightly, Hobi just brought the glass to his lips, sipping on two separate drinks at a time.

“Long time no see, man! Yoongi, how’ve you been?” Yoongi, still clutching onto your hand, stayed silent for a while, all while Hobi continued to smile.

“I’m… fine.” He eventually chokes out.

“Yoongi, are you okay? You seem really-” You’re once again interrupted when Yoongi pulls you away, stomping out the kitchen. You lean backwards, yelling out a quick apology to Hobi, but he doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.

“Yoongi, you’re being rude! I said you don’t have to worry! Hobi is a new friend I met, he’s a friend of Namjoon’s, and we were just talking about otters-”

“Why are you defending yourself?” Boy, you just keep on getting interrupted tonight.

“Wha- huh?” Yoongi finally lets your hand go when he reaches the apartment door, shutting it closed, leaving it swinging in midair, even though he regretted it immediately after. You can still faintly hear the party going on through the door, but you had no time to process the fact that Yoongi just pulled you outside the party when he spoke up again.

“I said, why are you defending yourself like that? You have no reason to. You’re acting like I just caught you cheating.” Yoongi’s voice turns faint towards the end of his sentence, and he looks down at his feet, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“I’m not defending myself! I’m just- I’m just, well, I-” You fumbled with your words, stuttering and fidgeting around with your fingers. Why were you defending yourself? It’s not like… Yeah, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything.

“You can talk about otters to whoever you want. You might want to change up your flirting tactics though, not many people can put up with your strange obsession with otters-”

“hEY!”

“- Anyways, Hoseok’s, not a bad man. He’s pretty great, actually,” Yoongi admits. “He’ll treat you well. And he seems to be super interested in you, so… ” Yoongi clears his throat. You narrow your eyes and look down at his shuffling feet. This is probably the most Yoongi has ever spoken to you, in private, anyway. Why is he so unbothered? And why does that bother you so much? He doesn’t even care a little bit? Does Hobi really seem like such a great guy?

“You don’t care?”

“No, just, you know, don’t get hurt, or whatever. I’ll have to murder him… Or something.” You let out a small laugh, but he doesn’t seem to be joking.

“So, if I go straight back in and ask Hobi out, you wouldn’t mind?” You swear that a vein pops out from Yoongi’s neck, but perhaps it was just your imagination.

“Why would I mind?” He says, through clenched teeth.

“... You’re right. Why would you be mad? You don’t care about me anyways.” Something ticks in Yoongi’s jaw.

“What do you mean I don’t care for you?” He blurts out, just as you were about to head back through the apartment door.

“Oh no, please, it doesn’t bother me as much now, trust me. It’s fine, Some people just don’t… vibe with you, I get it! You don’t like me all that much, it’s okay! It’s not like you’ve hurt me or anything! You just don’t like talking to me because I’m kind of a dumbass, that’s alright. It’s okay to keep avoiding me. And again, I’m sorry for the whole elbow thing, you didn’t talk to me for like the next two weeks, and again, I totally understand, you know?” Yoongi stares at you, blinking in realisation.

“So… you mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve thought that… I didn’t like you?”

“Well,” Now you’re blinking confusedly along with him. “Isn’t that… why you run away everytime I come over to hangout with Jimin?” Yoongi brings his hands out of his pockets and buries his face in them, groaning.

“And that’s why you don’t like talking to me, right? And that one time I spoke to you and you went into the bathroom and screamed for like five minutes? … Do you not hate me?” A look of realisation floods his eyes, and Yoongi leans against the wall, slowly sinking down to the ground until he’s practically sprawled out on the floor. Staring aimlessly, he reaches up and grabs your hand again, pulling you down to face him. You let out a small squeak, but you crouch down on your feet, awkwardly looking at your right hand that Yoongi (!!!) is currently holding for the second (!!!!) time.

“Forgive me, Y/n.” He whispers, dropping his head onto your hand.

“Forgive you? What for? Yoongi this is a little dramatic, don’t you think? This is technically a public area, um, maybe you wanna go back to your dorm? I can call Jimin out here, I’m sure he’ll leave the party early, let me just-” He pulls you back and won’t let go, even when you try to stand and leave his grip.

“Yoongi!” Like a child clutching onto his mother, he just sits there and pouts, not letting your hand go.

“I’m sorry!” He wails, lightly kicking his feet up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being my emo self and avoiding you, I’m sorry for making you think I hate you when that really isn’t the case at all, I’m sorry for being an idiot and screaming whenever you touched me, I promise that none of that was ever your fault, because you must have felt so hurt and disgusted by me-” Yoongi suddenly looks up and glares at you.

“Yah! Why didn’t you just slap me!”

“Slap… you?”

“Yes, slap some sense into me, you idiot! I was so mean to you, why didn’t you just tell me you were hurt?”

“Well,” You said, smiling nervously. “I wasn’t hurt!”

“Yes you were!” He wails again. Some sort of strangled noise comes from the back of his throat. “You must’ve been really hurt, and I’m sorry! I don’t want you to be hurt! I don’t want you to date Hobi, and I don’t want to lose you, because I’m selfish, and I’m fucking stupid!”

You speechlessly opened your mouth and closed it again, like a fish. Well, that was a full 180. What is he talking about? Apologising? You had dealt with the uncomfortable small talk and denying your feelings for years only to have him apologise now? You finally manage to open your mouth and firmly say something, but what comes out of your mouth is certainly not what you planned to say.

“Min Yoongi!” You yelled and watched him slightly tilt his head up. “How could you say that now!?” His head is fully up now, gazing at you slightly dazed. “How dare you mess with my feelings for the past two years, just to completely, unexpectedly, blurt all of this out outside of Seokjin’s shitty house party?” You cry, slouching down onto the ground and sitting cross legged. Your unoccupied hand reaches up to your hair, frustratingly running your hand through your messy locks.

“... If it counts for anything, I think that your obsession with otters is really cute.” You sniffle, for no particular reason, and nod.

“... Does that mean you like me then?”

“Y/n,” Yoongi sighs, taking your other hand out of your hair and placing it into his own. “Isn’t that obvious, you fucking dumbass?”

“You’re kinda giving off mixed signals here.” Yoongi squishes your cheeks together in a brave act from an unusual burst of courage that he managed to somehow build up.

“Y/n,”

“Mmph- Yesh?”

“I like you. I like you a lot. I’m sorry for being a dumbass who couldn’t ask you out, and I’m sorry I had to do this at Seokjin’s ‘shitty house party’, but I’d really like it if you would go on a date with me sometime.”

Yoongi releases your cheeks from his grip when you stay silent for a small while, red slowly creeping up from the neck up to his ears.

“I mean, you know, only if you want to, it’d be fine if all of that was just, you know… ” Yoongi mutters, gesturing around randomly.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Yoongi.”

“Oh. Cool, that’s cool. That’s… yeah that’s cool.”

“Text me the details?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll, I’ll do- I’ll do that.”

You can hear a faint scream when you enter Seokjin’s apartment again, but instead of filling you with the insecure, horrible feeling like it once did, you just smile and giggle to yourself again. What you don’t seem to notice is Jimin, Jin, Joon, Tae, Jungkook and Hobi exchanging victorious glances across the room.

(About a week later, Yoongi took you to the zoo for your date. He slightly regretted that decision after you spent an hour making faces at the otters.)

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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 4 years ago

Note

Re: the prompt post: 19, 13, 7 (any!)

7. “You’re a terrible liar.”

December 17th. 1971

John and Paul had taken Julian up to Liverpool; they were staying at Mendips for Christmas, hoping to capture some domestic bliss away from the chaos of being a former Beatle, as well as letting Julian get to know his external family a little better. Since the divorce, Paul had encouraged John to continue seeing Julian most weekends, dropping in on weekdays too, and more recently, start taking Julian for most of the holidays. Cynthia didn’t mind so much, she had a new partner she was seeing so it was nice for her to be able to take a break from Jules every once in a while.

John had in fact almost drifted away from his own kin at one point, but Paul insisted he maintained some sort of relationship with him. His problem was really that he didn’t understand children, he couldn’t relate to or connect to them. A psychologist could spend hours searching the index of his mind, but why bother? What it all amounts to is simply that though John wanted to be able to connect with kids, he just didn’t know how. Paul on the other hand just understood how to interact with kids. Perhaps it was boyish charm ever present in his spirit, but he just understood them far better than John ever could. Still, perhaps they balanced out well as a couple.

Paul unlocked the door to the home - he’d just from his dads, visiting some family. He didn’t bring John with him today (though he would in a few days’ time), because his father still wasn’t comfortable with the arrangement – though he’d have to get used to it, because John and Julian weren’t going anywhere.

“‘M back!” He chirped, shaking the snow off from his shoes.

“Were in ‘ere Macca…” John called out – his speech was slightly slurred, so that of course provoked a few questions in Pauls mind.

Entering the living, he couldn’t help but notice the bottles of beer scattered across the table. His lips plastered into a small grin as he asked, “Have you been drinkin’ love?”

“No…” John denied cheekily. Putting on a faux queen’s accent, he added, “I most certainly have not.”

“Well, I dunno about that. Think all those bottles might suggest otherwise.”

“They’re not mine.” John said with an attempted nonchalance. He was acting as though they were still teenagers, getting caught bunking school only to pop off down the pub.

Turning to Julian who lay upon the carpeted living room floor, Paul said, “What do you think Jules? D’you think yer da’s been drinkin’?” Jules nodded his head with cheeky grin overstating his face, “I saw him!” he said.

“Oi - I told ye not to tell on me!” John snapped, though with no real anger in voice.

“John, it has to be said, yer a terrible liar. I mean, yer truly crap mate.”

“Yeah, well, I never would’ve been caught if Jules hadn’t told on me.”

“Christ John,” he looked around him just to ensure a certain someone was not following behind him before continuing, “im not Mimi, im not gonna tell you off you know.” He picked up the shopping he had bought – Mimi had asked for a couple things – and as he walked into the attached kitchen, he joked, “Besides, think you might be old enough to legally drink by now.”

Following him into the kitchen, John started, “So what’d ye get up to with yer da’ then?”

“Nothing much y’know; just catching up with him and Mikey.” Paul said casually as he unloaded the shopping in his bags onto the table. “Mike’s girl is pregnant, d’you know.”

“Boy or a girl?”

“Dunno yet. They’re hoping for a girl, but they don’t mind so much either way. Da’s girl, Angela, is excited to have some grandkids on the way though.”

“Yeah, well – she might wanna lower her expectations for us. Don’t think we’ll be pushing out any of our own anytime soon.”

Paul dismissed this, continuing, “She’s lookin’ forward to meeting Jules in a coupl’a day’s time.”

John appeared to ignore this, asking with a smirk and sly rhetoricism, “Yer dad still doesn’t like me, does he?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say he doesn’t like you, but y’know,” Paul whipped him a smile as he continued unloading the bag, then added, “don’t think you’re his favourite Beatle.”

“If only you’d gotten with George or Ringo,” John quipped back sarcastically, as he made his way through the small kitchen, over to Paul. He placed a hand on Pauls waist, and brought his other hand up to his hair, to fiddle flirtatiously with the dark locks. “‘M sure he’d be content enough for you to marry either of them.”

Paul let out laugh, “Don’t think he’d be too happy with me marrying any guy to tell you the truth. ’Sides, don’t think George or Ringo would want me.”

“Definitely not George.” John joked back, still twirling his fingers through Pauls hair.

“That reminds me actually, I wanted to give him a ring soon. Wish him merry Christmas and that.”

“We’ll do that later…” John said as he angled Pauls face, bringing him in for a kiss. With some tender passion they kissed in the ever-familiar kitchen, embracing the delight of domesticity - but shortly after, they were sternly interrupted by a shrill from Mimi of, “John, I will have none of that in my house.”

Pulling away from Paul, he groaned, “Alright, Mimi,” though his tipsy voice still remained relatively unburdened. Paul stood there smiling, and fidgeting with Johns hands until Mimi said, “That goes for you too Paul. None of this silliness in my house.”

John just rolled his eyes in response, “Like a bloody boarding school in ‘ere.” he whined, but Mimi ignored the retort.

Dragging Paul into the living room, he kissed him once more as he pulled him down onto the sofa. They made out a little, embracing one another like adolescents, with Paul resting himself on half on the sofa, half on John’s lap – and John entangling his hands around his lover’s legs.

But Paul, being the more responsible of the two, broke away at last to ask, “Where’s Jules?”

“Why’s it matter?” John moaned.

“I don’t want him to see us like this.”

“He doesn’t bloody care!” John insisted.

“I bet he does - how’d you like to walk to walk in on yer own dad neckin’ it with someone?”

“I have walked in on me dad neckin’ it, and I didn’t give two shits-like.”

“Yeah, well, Jules is different,” he added a mocking, “plus, Mim’s isn’t standing for any of yer ‘silliness’ now.”

“Always eager to please the in laws aren’t ye Macca.” John said defeatedly, as Paul crawled away from his lap.

***

Look, I dont even care that its June. I like Christmas. I wanted to write a Christmas fic. I dont even care, im shameless!

Also, ive got quite a few other requests and like, im working on them I promise, but I always like to put in effort y'know so who knows when they'll be out haha. But ill try get another one out today <3

#asks #mclennon #anon #fanfic #my work #domestic

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depressedhatakekakashi · 3 years ago

Text

Terrible Pick-up lines and Free Coffee

For: @sakura-rpblog

AU: Coffee Shop Au

Words: 1306

Rating: General

Pairings/Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Haruno Sakura. Sakura/Naruto (Hint of Kakashi/Yamato)

Warnings: Shameless flirting, Bad Pick Up Lines

Summary: Sakura’s one of Kakashi’s best workers. Always alert and helping the customers. So when he notices her distracted by a customer during rush hour, he decides it’s time to intervene.

Rush hour, a time when every single office worker and student within a five-mile radius came into the little coffee shop just down the street from Konoha University. When the lineup went out the door and Kakashi had to schedule a minimum of five people to work in the small space that they had.

Two people taking orders, two people making drinks, and one handing out drinks.

Usually, the system was flawless and the customers were being served within five minutes. When it came to knowing people’s strengths on the floor, Kakashi was an expert. Much better than he was with actually talking to people, which was why he kept himself working behind the counter making drinks.

The only problem today was that his best barista was distracted this afternoon.

The distraction?

A tall, blond boy with bright blue eyes and a smile that had her weak at the knees every time he flashed it her way.

Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Most days when this particular customer came in the shop was quiet. They had lots of time to take his order, and Sakura could flirt with him all she wanted without issue.

Today, however, their usual back and forth was starting to hold up the line, and Lee could only do so much to make up for Sakura’s decrease in productivity. Even he was starting to look concerned when Sakura continued to flirt with her customer even as more customers piled into the small shop.

It was time for Kakashi to step in and he hated nothing more than having to admit that fact. Of course, this also meant that Sakura had opened herself up to complete and utter embarrassment.

And really, who was Kakashi to pass up such an opportunity? It was so rare for him to be able to tease Sakura. She was usually so focused and well-behaved. Easily one of her best workers.

Finishing with his last drink, Kakashi turned to Neji and signalled for him to take over for a second. Once he had moved over and started with the next order, Kakashi made his way to Sakura’s side.

“Here, let me try another one,” It took an incredible amount of effort not to roll his eyes. If this was the kind of conversation he was walking into it was no wonder Sakura was distracted. "I am a hopeless ramen-tic for you."

Now, this was just embarrassing.

The kid had to ask for another shot at flirting, and that was all he could come up with?

Anyone who had ever told Kakashi that he was a bad flirt owed him an apology and five bucks for having to listen to that pick-up line.

The worst part of it all though? Sakura was laughing. Not even a fake little giggle to appease the poor boy and his sad attempts at flirting. It was a full-blown belly laugh. The poor girl looked like she was about to keel over because of the worst attempt at flirting that Kakashi had ever heard in his life.

He’d pity her if he wasn’t currently concerned that she had hit her head against something really hard before starting her shift.

“I-Hey!” Sakura finally tore her eyes off the customer to glare up at Kakashi when he placed his right hand against her forehead. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t seem to have a fever.

“Huh,” pulling his hand away, he stared down at Sakura. “You’re not sick, and you’re laughing. So you actually enjoy this weirdo’s bad pick-up lines?”

He expected the elbow to the gut, but somehow it didn't make it hurt any less. On the other side of the counter, Kakashi could hear the customer trying desperately to keep his laughter as quiet as possible.

“Uh, Sakura-chan,” Lee spoke up beside her, chuckling when all three of them turned to look at him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to be hitting our boss.”

“And what’s he going to do,” Sakura’s usual overconfident attitude returned instantly. Almost as if she hadn’t spent the last five minutes flirting shamelessly with Konoha’s worst pick-up artist. “Fire me?”

“I might,” he wouldn’t, but seeing the fear in Sakura’s eyes when she looked back at him was well worth saying that. “I mean, if all you’re going to do is stand here flirting with a weirdo with a smile too bright and pick up lines that I’m pretty sure he found in a dumpster…”

“Hey! It was a good pick-up line!”

“It was terrible,” Kakashi instantly regretted his choice of words when he was greeted with the saddest look he had ever seen. Seriously, this kid could give Gai a run for his money. “Jeez, ok. How about this: Let me have my Barista back for rush hour and you can continue to try and woo her. Let’s say around two pm?”

“Ummm, Hi, standing right here.” Sakura held up a hand and waved when Kakashi looked back at her.

“Hmmm, so you are,” placing a hand on his hip, Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “Then you can make the choice. I need a functioning barista right now before I get yelled at for taking too long, which is becoming more likely by the minute,” he waved a hand towards all of the customers still standing behind the blond. “So how about it? I won’t even complain about his bad pick-up lines.”

There was another complaint behind him about them being ‘not that bad’, but Kakashi ignored it. Instead, he focused his attention on Sakura.

“I want my break when he gets back,” she grumbled under her breath, refusing to meet Kakashi’s eye as she said it.

“Deal,” clapping his hands together, Kakashi turned back to the blond-haired kid that had wasted so much of his time already. “Make a list of bad pick-up lines and be back at two pm. If you’re late I’ll have to find someone to fill your spot.”

He wouldn’t of course. That had been a joke and judging by the fact that he could hear Sakura laughing behind him, she got the joke.

“I uh...two,” The kid pulled out a pen and jotted the time on the back of his hand along with a little note that said ‘meet cute barista at her work’. It was actually sort of adorable, and Kakashi was going to have a blast bugging Sakura about it all later when the shop was empty. “I’ll be back then, believe it!”

With a wave goodbye, the kid ran to the end of the counter and snatched the coffee that had been waiting for him for at least four minutes at that point, calling out a ‘thank you’ towards Neji before heading out the door.

“Uhhh, Kakashi-san,” glancing back at Sakura, Kakashi frowned when he saw her looking down at her till. “He uh...he didn’t pay…”

Of course, he didn’t.

“Well, I guess someone’s not getting her free coffee,” poking Sakura in the nose, he headed back to his station and shooed Neji away from the coffee makers, much to the Hyuuga’s relief judging by the way he rushed off back to his little corner where he handed out the drinks. “But maybe if you actually help some customers, I might take pity on you.”

Sakura had a witty comeback for him, he knew it. But rather than wasting any more time arguing with her boss and risking her own free coffee, she turned back to the customers and called the next one forward.

Now he just had to hope that there wasn’t another bad flirt in the lineup to distract Sakura, or they’d never see an end to this rush hour and he wouldn’t get to sneak out to the table Tenzo had claimed half an hour ago and try his own hand at flirting.

#NaruSaku #SakuNaru #Hatake Kakashi #Haruno Sakura #haruno sakura #Taryn's Birthday Celebration 2021 #Taryn's Birthday Fics #Coffee Shop AU

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merakiaes · 5 years ago

Text

Forbidden - Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman

Pairing: Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This is a bit smutty at the end, extremely slow-burning and uneventful and I’m not happy at all with the outcome of this but I still hope you like it. Let me know what you think and send in more Sad Eyes requests xx Not proofread and Spanish translations at the end!

Wordcount: 4287

Summary: When in a forbidden relationship, the best thing might not be to make out right outside the house in which the person you’re most desperately trying to hide it from lives. Or is it?

The human mind was designed to always crave what it couldn’t have, to be lured in by the forbidden and make its host do anything in their power to get it.

There was just a certain charm about it, about the forbidden, that made it so unspeakably desirable, forbidden pleasures being loved immoderately while when they were lawful, they didn’t excite the same kind of desire.

That’s why, when you reached seventeen, you started developing a certain kind of attraction for your brother’s right hand man and best friend.

You had known Sad Eyes for as long as him and Oscar had been in the Santos together and you had never seen him as anything but another annoyingly protective older brother.

He was older than Oscar by three years, making him twenty-five by the time you were at your sweet seventeen, so a relationship between the two of you wouldn’t even be legal. But for some reason, that only made it even more exciting for you.

Your brother had always taken care of you and your younger brother Cesar, raising you like you were his own kids despite the fact that he was only five years older than you.

So naturally, he was fiercely protective over the two of you, determined to shield you from the bad parts of life, especially when it came to you.

The second you reached puberty and your eyes opened to your budding sexuality, he had you on a leash so tight you could barely breathe some days.

You weren’t allowed out by yourself, either Oscar or Sad Eyes constantly following you around wherever you went, and God forbid if you even thought about going on a date.

Boys were a big no-no, no matter how innocent, non-judgmental and kind-hearted they were. You weren’t allowed to go out with them, and they for sure weren’t about to step a foot inside your house because he knew what they were after, Oscar always told you.

They didn’t want your heart, he said, querían tu virginidad.

But little did he know, you weren’t his innocent little sister anymore.

After going through your very belated puberty, a lot of the younger Santos began looking at you differently.

You had grown into your body, curves growing fuller and face losing its baby fat. You had opinions now, morals. You were fierce and taught yourself your own worth and not to take shit from anyone anymore.

Long story short, you were everything a cholo would want in a ruca, and their shameless staring and flirting didn’t go unnoticed by your brother.

He would tell them off every time he caught them looking, having them quivering with fear, and if, against all odds, someone was stupid enough to actually make a move on you, he would have them jumped, making it known extremely quickly that you were off-limits to all of them.

But while you were used to his intensely excessive, the way Sad Eyes would suddenly jump at everyone who looked at you for too long was new territory for you.

You were used to him being protective, but before, he had always been the one out of him and Oscar to keep his calm.

He always pretended he was doing it all in their leader’s name, telling them “You’re lucky Spooky ain’t here, fool”, but you were smart enough to see through it and conclude that he was one of the many Santos who now saw you in a different light.

And the more you thought about it, the more you noticed; the short, lingering glances whenever he walked past you, the small touches and acts of affection when Oscar wasn’t looking. And even when he was looking, he was so blinded by the trust he had for his best friend that he never batted an eye.

That’s what awakened the feeling of attraction toward him inside of you to begin with. He was always so close, always so available, just hanging around your house every day like a perfect opportunity to defy your brother’s ‘no boys for as long as you live under my roof’-rule.

True to your suspicions, Sad Eyes had, in fact, developed a new kind of attraction for you when you had gone through puberty.

He could barely recognize you anymore, it was like you were an entirely different person, with an entirely different pull; one he couldn’t resist no matter how much he tried in the end.

He had tried to a start, though, taking distance from you when he noticed your painfully obvious attempts to seduce him in order to test your theory. But it was hard for him to do so when he was the only one besides himself that Oscar trusted with you.

When he didn’t have time, he was always the one sent to babysit you whenever you went out, and he knew he couldn’t tell him no, because if he did, how the hell would he explain it?

He wouldn’t have been able to, because he barely even knew what he was feeling, himself.

But he got that question all answered when he was tasked with going with you to the mall one day, just the two of you.

All these years, the two of you had never seen each other as anything other than siblings, and now all of the sudden, you were hurrying to undress each other in the back of his car while your lips moved together in perfect synchronization.

Yeah, it sounded disgusting, going from seeing each other as siblings and then heading into a relationship. But it was pure; figuratively speaking, that is, because the activities you partook in from then on were everything but.

He saw you in an entirely different light, falling head over heels for you when he realized that you were so much more than just Spooky’s little sister.

To a start, you were just using him to get back at said brother, having so much fun doing the exact thing he had forbidden you from doing.

But the longer you kept your little affair going, the more emotionally attached he got to you, and the more attached he got to you, the more his emotions showed through the way he handled you; so carefully, so genuinely, looking at you like you were the sun in his own little solar system.

In turn, you caught feelings for him, too, and suddenly everything got so much more complicated, everyone having failed to mention the fact that forbidden affairs were all fun and games until feelings showed up to the playground.

He was never supposed to mean this much to you, you were never supposed to fall so hard, or at all, for that matter, but you did. So had he, and suddenly, you were just fucked.

Sneaking around behind your brother’s back got so much more stressful from then on.

Before, the worst that could have happened if he ever found out was that he would forbid you to see each other which, with no strings attached, didn’t seem so bad.

But now… Now feelings had been caught and suddenly that possible outcome truly was the worst thing that could happen.

You no longer enjoyed the rush you had gotten the first few times. In fact, you didn’t feel it at all. All you felt now was anxiety. You were scared for the first time in a long time, scared to lose the man you had grown to love.

What you had originally planned to just be a few quick fucks turned into months, turned into over a year of seeing each other in secret.

So more than anything, you were scared for his sake, because if Oscar found out now, the consequences would without a doubt be a lot more severe than they would have been if he had found out at the beginning.

Both you and Sad Eyes knew it, and it was stressing him out.

He was a Santo. He had been held at gunpoint and had his life threatened more times than he could count, but being beaten and even killed by the person who had been his brother for so many years awakened an entirely new kind of fear inside of him.

It made him doubt your relationship, and no matter how many times you tried convincing him that you would never let Oscar hurt him or force you apart, he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep that promise if he ever made up his mind to do so.

The clock was a little past ten at night when you headed out of your house on this particular Thursday evening.

You had been sitting in your bed, talking with Monse on Skype, when you had gotten the text from Sad Eyes telling you to come outside.

You had scoffed at the mere sight of it, your entire attitude turning sour, but nonetheless, you had bid your brother’s girlfriend goodbye, pulled on a pair of leggings to accompany your night slip and sneaked outside.

Oscar and Cesar were out doing God knows what so you didn’t necessarily need to hide from them right there and then, but the street you lived on was full of Santos and their nosy families and you knew that if any of them caught you, the word would reach your brother in no time.

And that was not something you wanted to happen.

“Spooky home?” Was the first thing Sad Eyes asked you once you had gotten into the passenger seat of his car. Not even a hi.

You scoffed at that, leaning your elbow on the car door and in turn leaning your cheek on your knuckles as you stared straight ahead, not even bothering to look at him. “No, but you still shouldn’t have parked so close to the house.”

“I needed to see you.” You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you ignored it.

“Really?” You sniffed, glaring forward. “That’s not the impression I’ve been getting by you ignoring me for almost a week.”

He sighed from beside you but didn’t say anything, knowing you well enough by now that he just needed to let you get your anger out.

“I called you, every day.” You continued. “And I lost count of how many texts I sent you after the first fifty.”

His hand reached over the console to take yours in his. You didn’t stop him, but you didn’t squeeze his hand back when he squeezed yours either.

“It took everything in me not to call you back, mami. And every time I didn’t, I almost did.” He answered quietly. “You have no idea how hard it is to force myself to stop thinking about you. I couldn’t.”

You swallowed, turning even more irritated at the feeling of your body betraying your mind, relaxing at his touch as he caressed your knuckles. “Why does it feel like you’re going to hit me with a ‘but’?”

“We need to end this thing between us. I need to stay away from you. Spooky’s been getting too suspicious.” Ah, there it was, the same conversation that you’d had more times than you were able to count on both of your hands.

He would start contemplating your relationship and everything he knew, ignore you for a certain amount of time, return and tell you that you needed to break up, and it would always end the same way; with you in each other’s arms.

But despite knowing the whole routine by heart at this point, it never failed to make your blood bubble with anger.

“Then stay away.” You snapped back, finally turning your head to look at him with one quick turn of your head, and when doing so, your eyes instantly met his, finding that he had already been looking at you.

He shook his head. “No puedo.”

“That so?” You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and he sighed.

“Come on, bella. Don’t be like that. I had to go away.” He reached his hand out to touch your cheek, gingerly brushing a strand of hair out of your face while he scanned your face. “I would take a bullet for you any day but this shit is just stressing me out. When Spooky jumped that cabrón out of Los Santos for trying to feel you up I just-“

“It triggered your fight or flight instinct.” You interrupted, swallowing as you felt your glare turn soft.

His eyes flickered back up to yours and he nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you’re here now.” You pointed out, raising your head in a small nod at him. “So what changed your mind?”

His face pulled into a concentrated expression, his eyes staring straight into yours and his hand cradling your cheek. “I missed you, mami.” He replied quietly and you instantly felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname.

“Yeah?” You inquired, instinctively reaching up to touch the hand at your cheek and your other hand finally squeezing his back rather than laying limp.

He nodded and when he started leaning over the console, you followed his lead, your faces ending up only inches apart a second later. “You have no idea.”

Your breath started getting heavy from the intense proximity, feeling like he was staring straight into your soul. “How much?” You inquired again and he didn’t miss a beat.

“I can show you better than I can tell you.” He brought his thump down to your lips, pulling at the bottom one lightly.

Your body immediately started reacting accordingly, your stomach erupting into a flutter of butterflies that went straight up to your chest and down to your core.

“I thought you said we needed to end things.” You breathed out, but meanwhile, your body was twisting in his direction almost as if working on autopilot.

“We do.” He agreed lowly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours. ”But I can’t stay away from you. You’re like a drug and there’s not a single sober vein left in my body. Shit’s dangerous, but it’s too late to turn back now. I’m already addicted to you.”

You didn’t say anything, simply raising a hand of your own to his face to drag it over the tattoo on his neck and in response, he sucked in a long, satisfied breath, just like you would when taking a hit.

“What’s that you always tell me?” He asked then, opening his eyes again and meeting your gaze through slightly hooded lids.

Your lips instantly pulled into a smirk when seeing that his pupils had dilated, his brown irises now a shade darker, and only getting more so the more you caressed the side of his neck. “Better oops then what if.” You replied, and he nodded, the corners of his lips tugging slightly.

“Yeah.” He agreed, pulling his lower lip into his mouth briefly with his teeth while looking down at yours, before releasing it and looking back up into your eyes. “You’re irresistible.”

Your lips automatically pulled into a wide smile, without a doubt showing off the dimples both you and Oscar had inherited from your mom.

At the sight, his face turned sincere again, eyes turning soft as he kept caressing your face. “Thank you. For seeing me.” He spoke softly.

“I’m always here for you.” You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “You know that.”

He snickered, brushing his lips against yours ever so lightly. “Even when I’ve been acting like a pendejo for the past week.”

You hummed, chuckling along with him. “We both know this isn’t a normal relationship.” You pointed out and for the first time, his lips pulled into a smile to match yours.

“I missed you.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours in the shortest, most featherlight kiss.

You smiled at tingling sensation that went through your entire body at the feeling, inching even closer to him. “I missed you, too.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He chuckled, indicating to the attitude you’d had when first getting into the car, but he turned serious quickly again. “You’re too good for me, mi amor.”

His eyes left yours, turning his attention to the side as he brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your bare shoulder.

You analyzed his face, taking note of how the corner of his lip turned up slightly as he hooked his finger under the strap of your black night slip.

The next second, the thin strap was sliding down your upper arm with a simple brush of his hand, and the next thing you knew, your lips were locked together in a feverish kiss, a week’s worth of emotions spilling out.

Your hands immediately went to the back of his neck as your lips parted and your tongues touched together.

His hands were pulling you over the console and into his lap in no time and for once you found yourself extremely lucky that he never got around to fixing the broken honk, or else the entire block would have known what you were up to at this point with the way you were pressed against the steering wheel.

Your entire body was a mess of tingles and butterflies from the growing anticipation and you instinctively grinded down onto his denim-clad lap, feeling him growing underneath you almost instantly.

At the feeling of the growing friction, you grinded down again while breathing heavily into the kiss, and when his hands gripped onto your waist tightly, a guttural groan leaving his throat, you knew you were doing good.

You smirked against his lips, satisfied at the effect you always had him, how you could have him more or less eating out of your palm by such a small movement.

After a good minute of kissing, you finally broke apart to breathe and when doing so, your hands moved from the back of his neck to the front of his button-up, wasting no time in starting to work on the buttons.

While you occupied yourself with getting him out of his shirt, his hands moved down from your waist to grip at your hips, then proceeding to push you down harder on his crotch while latching on to your neck.

The feeling of his tongue brushing over your sweet spot had a moan leaving your lips in an instant, your head falling back at the feeling and your hands momentarily stopping what they were doing to pull at his collar.

“Don’t be so rough.” You muttered to him as he began sucking at your sweet spot, his hands now tugging lightly on your hair, but your body betrayed your words, letting out another moan.

He snickered against your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and shoulder as you pulled yourself together and returned to the task of unbuttoning his shirt.

“I thought you liked it rough, baby.” He mumbled into your shoulder, and the sound of his husky voice was enough to send another flurry of excited butterflies through your abdomen and down.

“You know I do, but I don’t think Oscar would appreciate it very much if he came home to see me marked when I was clean when he left.”

Your chest heaved up and down rapidly as you finally finished with his buttons, bringing his head up from your neck with your hands to make him look at you, putting on your best innocent face and asking: “Do you, papi?”

A dark expression crossed over his already aroused face, and a hiss left his lips when you grinded down onto his lap again.

“Shit.” He cursed in a breath, his head falling back into the headrest of the seat and his hands squeezing down harder at your hips.

You smirked in contentment and wasted no time in taking his face in your hands to pull him into a new kiss, fingers moving on to work on his belt.

You were so wrapped up in each other that you completely missed the red Impala returning and parking in the driveway of your house, and how the two people who had been riding in it caught sight of the familiar car parked just down the road.

It wasn’t until a loud bang on the hood of the car reached your ears that you noticed the two pair of eyes now watching you, the two of you jumping as far apart as you possibly could in the cramped position you were stuck in and your eyes instantly locking with your brother’s when you turned around to look out the windshield.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, fuck, is right! Get out here!” Oscar yelled at you as he pushed his hands off the hood of the car and stormed around it to the driver’s seat, having been able to read your lips.

Sad Eyes hurried to clasp his belt buckle back up while you pulled your strap back up on your shoulder and began shuffling off his lap when Oscar ripped the door open.

“Oscar-“

“Look, Spooky-“

You and Sad Eyes began at the same time as you scrambled out of the car. Your eyes were wide and guilt was written all over your face, while Sad Eyes’ face pulled into an expression that could only be described as ‘this is where I die’.

“Cállate!” Oscar had none of it, glaring at you and raising a hand to interrupt you while Cesar stood by his side awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you.

Both of you quietened down, your first instinct being to look at each other. And then, much to yours and everyone else’s surprise, Sad Eyes stepped up to his side and took your hand out of pure, protective instinct.

The small movement didn’t go unnoticed to your brothers and while you met Cesar’s worried eyes with an identical expression, both of you thinking Oscar was going to kill him, it was Oscar’s turn to surprise you by doing the exact opposite.

His face was still pulled into a fierce glare as he took a step back, eyes dangerously narrowed as they kept flickering between the two of you, before finally stopping on you.

Your eyes locked with his and Sad Eyes and Cesar remained silent as they watched him raise a pointed finger at you. “This is the first and last time you keep something like this from me.” He drawled slowly, holding his glare at you for a moment before moving his eyes and finger to his second in command. “Vosotros dos.”

Keeping his finger out, he took a step back forward and poked it into Sad Eyes’ chest roughly. Once, twice and thrice.

“My sister isn’t a road gig along the way, she’s a fucking destination.” He spoke sternly, glowering at him. “If you’re fucking her, you’re staying with her. Entienden?”

Sad Eyes stared back at him with absolutely zero fear in his eyes, despite how scared he had been for this moment before. “I would never hurt her. La quiero.” He answered without missing a beat and Oscar nodded in response, content with his reply.

“You better.” He said, lowering his arm and taking a step back again, allowing Sad Eyes to slowly wrap his arm around your waist. “You coming inside, or are you gonna keep sneaking around in this piece of junk?”

Your brother kicked the tire of the car next to you and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re not mad?” You asked, and instantly felt Sad Eyes squeezing down at your hip, silently telling you not to jinx it.

Oscar noticed this, his eyes flickering down to his hand briefly, but he didn’t do anything, simply looking back up at you.

“I’m not happy. But if there’s anyone I’d be okay seeing mi hermana being with, it’s my compa.” He raised his head in a nod of acceptance at Sad Eyes, and you instantly felt him relax beside you. “Now get your asses inside, we’re making albondigas.”

With one last look at you, he turned around and headed straight for the house, and only then did you notice the bag of groceries hanging from his hand.

Cesar, who had been quiet up until then, let out a chuckle once your older brother was out of earshot, causing you to turn to look at him.

“Guess the cat’s out the bag, huh?” He gave you a mocking smirk, balancing on the back of his heels. “Now I finally won’t have to cover up your tracks anymore.”

“You knew?!” You instantly exclaimed, your hand coming out to slap his chest before you could stop yourself.

He laughed, taking a step away from you while raising his arms in defense and shrinking into himself.

“Do I have a pair of functioning eyes? Of course, I knew.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Oscar might think you’re still his innocent little sister but I know for a fact that you’re the devil.”

Sad Eyes laughed out loud at that, reaching the hand that wasn’t holding on to your waist out to bump against Cesar’s. “You got that right, Lil’ Spooky.” He agreed and you instantly glared at them.

“Stop ganging up on me, pendejos.” You scolded, holding your hand up to your chest to feel your heart beating frantically. “I just had the scare of my life and so did you, you should be pissing yourself, not laughing.”

But you still couldn’t help but get all warm inside at the sound of his laugh, knowing that he no longer had to be that ‘nothing’ when people asked you what you were thinking about.

Finally, you could be with each other without limits and not be forced to sneak around in the shadows, something you wouldn’t have thought possible even in your wildest dreams.

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

Querían tu virginidad – they wanted your virginity

No puedo – I can’t

Bella – beautiful

Cabrón – bastard

Pendejo – asshole

Mi amor – my love

Vosotros dos – both of you

Entienden? – You feel me?

La quiero – I love her

Mi hermana – my sister

Compa – buddy

#sad eyes #sad eyes x reader #sad eyes imagine #steve villegas #on my block #on my block imagine #on my block x reader #omb #omb x reader #omb imagine #oscar diaz #oscar diaz x reader #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz #spooky #spooky x reader #cesar diaz #cesar diaz x reader

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creatively--challenged · 5 years ago

Text

Making a Splash | College AU Tom Holland x Reader

Request “ Love your writing! Not sure if you take requests, but any chance you would do a smut one shot with frat cocky Tom? He's a known player, while y/n is a good student and she hates him. He's always trying to charm her, but she always denies him. But then she goes to a pool party, and he is there in his swim trunks, and he's all tan and his muscles are glistening. He works his charm on her, and then he makes her suck him off. She's gagging on him and he's dirty talking and boasting non-stop.”

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long! I had this half written and lost all motivation when this Coronavirus thing happened! Anyway, I’m not sure my dirty-talk is up to scratch but I hope you enjoy! x

Word Count: 7k Warnings - Seriously smutty, rough, oral both receiving, alcohol, swearing, and a lil bit of fluff at the end <3

“Get lost, asshole.” Y/N spat at the annoyingly attractive man leaning over her shoulder. She was attempting to take notes on what her professor was explaining at the top of the lecture hall but her arch-nemesis, Tom Holland, felt that it was his life’s goal to distract her in any way possible; today it was by leaning over her shoulder to read her notes, all the while brushing his fingers softly through the ends of her hair. She wouldn’t admit that his actions were having a very strong effect on her lower half. She wouldn’t.

“Now, darling, that’s no way to treat your fellow classmate. I’m just trying to understand the class. You wouldn’t want me to fail, would you?” He drawled in that heavenly, no – annoying accent of his, lips so close to her ear she could feel the heat of his breath on her.

“I know for a fact that you’re the woman to go to for any needs I may have…” Her eyes widened and she started to turn towards him in bewilderment. “Academic needs, that is. Don’t worry, I know you wouldn’t be up to catering to any other needs, thanks for the notes though.” He snorted and retracted back into his seat with a cocky grin on his face as he annotated his own notes with snippets of what he got from hers.

Y/N fumed in her seat. He had the audacity to tease her, make her feel things, and then insult her and use her for notes? Not that she’d be surprised. He’d done worse in the past. In their first year she had left her laptop on in the library while she went to find another book on the subject she was studying and when she came back she found her Word document that she’d typed 3000 words of an essay in was empty, all saved files deleted, with only the word “sorry” visible on the screen. She only had an idea of who it was until his essay was published for getting the highest grade in the class and when she read it she realised she was reading her own work, bar the odd change in phrasing.

Their rivalry had bloomed from there. He would constantly tease her for her academic focus and outwardly prudish image – keyword; outwardly. What she thought of inwardly or did in her own bedroom in the small hours of the night thinking about that stupid accented voice was no one else’s business. He was also a shameless flirt and despite his teasing, she felt his eyes heavy on her in almost every class they shared, which was most of them considering they studied the same majors and even shared some electives. At the parties her housemates hosted or dragged her along to he always seemed to watch her, almost like a predator observing his prey. She couldn’t understand why, other than the thought that she may be a conquest of his. A box to tick before he moved on to another helpless soul. Her first assumption was that he was waiting for her to make some colossal social blunder that he could exploit and tease her with, but then at the last party her housemates had thrown she had spilled a drink accidentally over some cheerleader that had been sitting on his lap while she tried to get her books from the dining room table that were being used as coasters. That had ended up with said cheerleader throwing whatever was left in her red solo cup all over Y/N’s head. She knew he had seen it and was waiting on the eventual onslaught of jeers but was surprised when she had caught him gently pushing the cheerleader off his lap and exchanging stern words with her before storming into the kitchen. Maybe he just didn’t want to piss her off completely before he had the chance to get her into bed. Yes, that was definitely it.

Her professor signalled the end of the lecture and Y/N packed all her stuff away as quickly as possible to get a good seat in the library. She always spent 2 hours a day after classes cramming as much study in as she could, especially with Finals coming up. She spotted her housemate, Ella, sitting in her usual spot and made her way over. Ella shot her a smile as she sat down and quickly scribbled a note on a scrap of paper before passing it across the table.

Planning a party to celebrate Finals this Friday. Get ready to make a splash ; ) x

Y/N chuckled under her breath and rolled her eyes playfully. The girls in her house had been talking about having a pool party for weeks but as soon as the weather began to pick up there was always something else happening on campus. It seemed they finally got their weekend.

“I suppose I’d better find a good Netflix series to watch and a pair of headphones good enough to block out all noise then.” She whispered to her friend and Ella scoffed.

“Absolutely not. It’s the last party of the year and it’s going to be a scorcher! You’re whipping out that body of yours and joining us. We might not even be living together next year, you have to enjoy yourself at some stage!” Y/N rolled her eyes again, less playfully this time. She opened her mouth to reply but caught the glare of the library assistant and thought better of it, ducking her head behind her laptop and beginning her study.

Two hours later, her and Ella were walking leisurely back to their house, arm in arm. It was still light out, tints of orange and pink rippling through the clouds as the sun began to dip in the sky. She loved the walk back from the library, it used to be her favourite part of every day. That was until she realised the walk took her by the house Tom shared with his friends and he was usually leaving his house at that time to go to some party or bar or whatever it was he did in the evenings. Tonight he seemed to be staying in as when they walked by his house he and Harrison, the blue-eyed blond he was hardly seen without, were lounging on their front deck with a cooler of beers between them, laughing obnoxiously at something or other.

“Hey, Y/N! I hope you have your bathing suit picked out. Or will you be hiding in your room making love to your notes on Friday night?” Tom shouted across the lawn, causing Harrison to spit his beer out and let out a howl of laughter. Ella froze up and looked at her friend with wide eyes, beginning to shake her head as Y/N turned her glare on her.

“You didn’t tell me he was coming! You know I can’t stand him.” She whispered harshly to Ella who was already rambling.

“I didn’t invite him! It must have been Holly. She’s been trying to get with Harrison all year and he won’t come without Tom!” Y/N groaned and flipped Tom off as she stormed past his house.

“Oh come on! That’s not very nice. I thought you were supposed to be the good girl?” He shouted after her and when she glanced back at him he sent her the cheekiest smile he could muster and a wink. His words and actions went straight to her nether regions but she dragged Ella back to the house regardless.

Once they got in the door she went in search of Holly and found her scrolling through her phone in the kitchen, smirking to herself. When she saw Y/N approaching she glanced up and a look of panic flashed across her face as she quickly hid her phone.

“I know what you’re going to say but I really need him to come so that Harrison comes! It’s just one night, pleaeeease, Y/N? He probably would have come anyway when he heard about it.” She reasoned and Y/N sighed, resting her case and telling the girls she’d try her best to ignore him and enjoy herself. She didn’t know how she’d do that, but she would try.

Friday came way too quickly for Y/N’s liking for two reasons. Firstly, she could definitely do with so much more time to study for Finals and secondly, the pool party was today and the girls were all aflutter trying to get drinks, snacks, and music sorted for the evening. Y/N had been dragged into helping set up the fairy-lights that scattered the pool area and organising tables with bowls of snacks and red solo cups. She was making an effort on her friends’ behalves. By the time everyone had started to arrive, Y/N and Ella were paddling in the pool and making their predictions for the night ahead.

“Holly is definitely going to sleep with Harrison. There’s no way he can resist that charm.” Ella assured her, taking a long sip of her drink through a looped pink straw. “But the question is… Are you going to shoot your shot with anyone tonight?” She wiggled her eyebrows. Y/N choked on her drink slightly, her eyes wide.

“What? No way. I have more important things to worry about. Getting laid is not one of them. Finals start next week!”

“Which is exactly why you need to let off some steam! How are you supposed to focus on your papers when you’re… distracted by a certain someone? Plus, you look way too good today to let that go to waste. You’ll have your pick of the lot, no doubt about it.”

A certain someone? There’s no way she could have meant Tom. He definitely didn’t distract her. Coincidentally, at that exact moment Tom chose to walk through the French doors that led from the kitchen to the garden and if she wasn’t trying to maintain the scowl on her face her jaw would have dropped. He looked incredible. Dark curls pushed back, sunglasses perched on his nose. His black shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his ridiculously toned body and the v that disappeared into his tight black swimming trunks. He already had a beer in hand and was talking animatedly to Harrison beside him. He caught sight of Y/N and stopped mid-sentence before collecting himself and flashing her a wink before continuing his conversation. She watched as he took up a lounge chair and 2 cheerleaders immediately gravitated towards him, begging for his attention.

“As I was saying…. You need to get laid if you wanna focus in your finals…” Ella told her in a matter-of-fact way, gesturing towards the brunet. Y/N scoffed.

“I wasn’t distracted by him, I was just thinking.” She defended, drawing a laugh from the blonde beside her.

“Yeah.. I wonder what about.” She mumbled under her breath and Y/N made her way out of the pool to get a drink. It was going to be a long evening.

As night began to approach, everyone started to make their way indoors to continue the party. Most of them were already half-cut, some were so drunk their friends had taken them home already, but the house was still flushed with people, nevertheless. Y/N had been chatting to a guy, Scott, from a seminar on Post Modernism that she had attended when the dining room began to fill up. They were idle friends, he had asked her on a date once or twice and even though she politely declined he always took it very well and continued to treat her kindly, even helping her study for exams.

She had retreated inside an hour or so ago. She could only take having her attention pulled towards the tanned, glistening abs of Tom Holland for so long. He had been teasing her all evening, getting out of the pool right next to where she was paddling her legs, sure to flex his muscles as he moved lithely, shaking the water from his hair, and smiling boastfully when he caught her eyes on his body. Each time she caught his eye he’d send her a wink and there were numerous times where she’d catch him eyeing her breasts or her ass, not so subtly checking her out, prompting her to cover her bikini clad body with a long, black lace kimono and a pair of denim shorts in an attempt to shield her body from his eyes as much as possible. He was infuriating.

She felt a presence behind her and knew immediately who it was even before she saw Scott tense up as he looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowing annoyedly. Scott pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and visibly suppressed rolling his eyes. He looked unsure as to whether he should leave or not until it seemed he was deciding to stay at Y/N’s side. Y/N glanced around and found herself almost flushed to Tom’s glistening chest. His hair looked almost perfectly styled despite hours in the water; curls perfectly out of place and falling over his unruly eyebrow, curling around his ears. He had thrown his shirt from earlier back on though it still hung loose around his shoulders, keeping his chiselled body on show. She fought with her eyeballs to stop them from travelling any further down his body.

“You haven’t run off to your books yet? Who are you and what have you done with the good girl I love to tease so much?” Y/N squeezed her thighs together at his words and he seemed to notice, glancing down ever so slightly before meeting her eyes again with an amused expression.

“Get lost, Holland. Don’t you have cheerleaders to fuck or beer-pong to play or whatever it is jackasses like you do?” His eyebrows shot up and he let out a breathy laugh.

“Oooooooh princess found some balls! How many of those have you had?” He asked her, gesturing to the cup of vodka and soda in her hand. Admittedly she’d had a lot more than she would usually though she had only been feeling pleasantly buzzed, just enough to give her some Dutch courage. He smirked and leaned down to her ear, his hand resting gently on her hip.

“See, your mouth is saying one thing, but your body is telling me a different story. Come find me when your mouth catches up with the rest of you and wants to be put to good use. Oh, and ditch the puppy dog.” He nodded towards Scott dismissively, and walked towards the hall without even a glance back, as if he knew she would follow.

She could feel the heat pooling in her underwear as various thoughts ran through her head, all of them beginning with her feet taking her out of the room to find the man who expertly got under her skin. She must have stared at his retreating back too long as she heard someone clear their throat loudly behind her. She turned quickly to catch Scott’s disapproving face.

“You know, you might consider yourself above reproach but you’re just like the other sluts who fawn over him on a daily basis.” He told her with an ugly scowl on his face.

“Excuse me? What do you mean?” He rolled his eyes.

“You know exactly what I mean, you lead him on and pretend you’re not interested so that he’ll keep flirting with you. I hate to break it to you, Y/N, but even dickheads like him get bored of the tirade very quickly so you should probably consider getting over yourself.” He told her dismissingly, turning to walk away. “I’m not interested in him and I’m not trying to lead anyone on!” She defended though he shot her a look that said ‘sure’ and disappeared into the crowd.

She felt tears prick her eyes and a lump in her throat. She wouldn’t cry here, she was supposed to be having a good time! She scanned the room for her housemates, she needed someone to vent to, though she wasn’t sure which boy she was angry at the most. Her eyes caught crystalline blue ones leaning against the wall beside her. Harrison was holding two drinks, looking at her with sympathy.

“Holly’s just gone to the bathroom if you want to wait here for her.” He told her, tilting his head to the side. She shook her head, glancing up to the ceiling and putting her tongue to the top of her mouth to stop the tears from escaping. She definitely wasn’t crying in front of his best friend.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N, what he said isn’t true. I don’t know you very well but you don’t lead him on and you’re not a slut. That’s why Tom likes you so much. That guy’s just jealous.” Harrison slurred ever so slightly, he was obviously quite drunk but that didn’t stop his words from having an effect on her, her heart swelled appreciatively at his kindness but she was also questioning whether he really meant what he said because if he was serious about Tom liking her did that mean she had been taking him the wrong way this whole time? No, she couldn’t have. He teased her relentlessly, stole her work, and insulted her on a daily basis. He was just drunk, or maybe he was even in on Tom’s conquest. She decided the best thing to do was to stop drinking. She’d had enough of this night.

Y/N threw her cup away and made her way to the stairs, wearily taking one step at a time until she got to her bedroom door. Scott’s words had returned to her head and the tears had breached her eyes, slowly trailing down her cheeks. She absently wiped them as she stepped into her room, her lamps already on and… Strange. She hadn’t been in here since this afternoon and she didn’t leave her lamps on. She worriedly glanced towards her bed, hoping some horny couple didn’t decide to fuck in her bed. She could have sworn she’d locked the door! Except, there was no horny couple, just a brunet Brit who jumped up from her bed with a look of concern across his face as he tentatively took steps towards her.

“Y/N? You didn’t have to follow me if you didn’t want to. I was just teasing! I wasn’t trying to force you or anything.” He rushed, instantly losing the cool, unflappable exterior he usually portrayed. Y/N scrunched her nose in confusion.

“Tom? What are you doing here? What are you talking about? How are you in my room?!” Now it was his turn to be confused. He tilted his head at her, not unlike a puppy with those all-encompassing brown orbs.

“Wait. You’re not crying because of me? I told you to come find me and here you are. You don’t feel like I’m forcing you, do you? You didn’t have t—” It finally dawned on her why he thought she was upset and she gasped.

“No! No that’s not why – I didn’t know you were here!” He looked visibly relieved and then a little embarrassed.

“How and why are you here, Tom?” A little of the anger that resided in her from earlier had made its way back into her voice.

Why the fuck did he think he could sit in her room, on her bed, where she got herself off to thoughts of him on her bed? That bit wasn’t important but it was all she could suddenly think of. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and produced a key from his shirt pocket.

“Took it from the pocket in your shorts when I leaned down to you. I think you were too focused on my words to notice.” He started the sentence nervously but by the end he almost had his innate level of cockiness back in his voice. Almost. “I thought you’d assume I’d come here if you wanted to follow me, especially when you noticed the key missing. I was going to leave after 20 minutes or so, if you weren’t interested…” He trailed off and the nervousness was present once again. “Look, I’m sorry. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it. I’ll leave you alone.”

He made a move for the door but YN swung it shut and slowly stepped between it and him before he could get to it. He stopped in his tracks, eyes lifting from the floor to meet her eyes, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.

“I was upset because Scott accused me of fawning over you. Of brushing you off so you’d keep teasing me and flirting with me. He said that you’d eventually get bored of me. And you know what? I do fawn over you. I do brush you off because the feeling of being wanted and chased is so much better than giving into you, letting you have what you want before you move on to someone else. I was upset because he was fucking right and I’m an idiot. But if you’re gonna get bored of me eventually I want to at least let you have me once before you do.”

Tom’s face flashed through several emotions one after the other. Anger to sympathy to understanding and finally, to complete lust. His dark eyes grew darker, jaw hardened, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips, as he took two steps towards her and gently pinned her against the door.

“Looks like your mouth has caught up with the rest of your body.” He noted leaning down to her. His minty breath fanned her face as he tilted his forehead against her, hands gently squeezing her hips but not moving anywhere yet, as if silently asking permission. She tilted her face up to his, lips just millimetres from his, so close that when she spoke their lips brushed.

“Looks like it has. You said something about putting it to good use?” That was all the permission he needed. With a low growl in the back of his throat, Tom connected their lips hungrily, expertly moulding his mouth against hers. She whimpered slightly; this was so much better than what she thought it would be like. It didn’t just feel superficial either, it almost felt there was a depth to his kiss. She kissed him back with fervour and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue dominantly passed her lips, tangling with hers and exploring every inch if her mouth. His hands had begun grasping at her, almost as if he was unsure where to touch first. Like a kid on Christmas morning debating which gift to open first. They roamed her ass, squeezing and smoothing the skin through the denim, gripping the bottom of her cheeks that were peeking out from under her shorts. They then travelled to her exposed waist, one holding her there, revelling in feeling her skin, while the other journeyed upwards towards her bikini clad boobs, cupping one and gently squeezing before ghosting his hand over where her nipple was. The hand on her waist then dropped downwards and cupped her sex through her shorts before she could even register it leaving her hip. She moaned desperately into his mouth, her fingers threading through his locks, every gentle tug eliciting a soft whine from him.

She eventually found the courage to let one hand travel down his body, slowly over every muscle, nails trailing down his abs as he hissed in response. Their kiss was getting hungrier and dirtier by the second, teeth clashing, rough breathing, and both their lips coated in each-others spit but they didn’t care. Her right hand dropped to cup his length just as his hand expertly untied her bikini from around her back and pulled the offending material away to let her boobs free. He pulled away from their kiss, looking deeply into her eyes and he caught his breath, he pecked her lips once before dipping his head down to catch one nipple in his mouth, his other hand rolling her other nipple between his fingers. His teeth nipped slightly and her tongue swirled and sucked until he had left purple blooms all over her left boob. He then began tracing kisses to her other boob, showing an equal amount of care and appreciation. His hips began slightly bucking up as her hand slid into his swimming trunks to cup his now very hard cock. Her knees buckled slightly at the feeling of his teeth and tongue on her and the feeling of his dick in her hand, something she never ever thought she’d experience. He felt it and grinned at her cockily.

“Need you to do something for me, darling.” He pulled back, removed her hand from his trunks, and gently pushed downwards on her shoulders until she was on her knees in front of him. He gave her a second to back out but when she showed no signs of stopping, he pulled his shorts down to let his length spring free, nearly hitting his stomach in the process. Her eyes widened at the sight. She’d always imagined he’d be big, why else was he so popular with the cheerleaders? But he wasn’t overly long, just really fucking thick.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll help you fit it all in that pretty mouth of yours.” She thought there’d be a puddle on the floor under her at hearing those words but she tried her best to put her pleasure to the side for the moment and focus on him, surely he’d look after her later? She took his cock in one hand and slowly pumped it as she teasingly leaned forward and licked a strip from the base to the tip. He put two hands on the door in front of him to support him as he groaned deeply.

“No teasing, Y/N” He warned, voice dangerously low. Y/N wondered how far he could be pushed, after all, he did make it his life’s mission to tease her. Surely he could take it himself? She began sucking gently on the head, swirling her tongue, leaving light kitten-licks along the length, and almost taking him deep in her mouth before pulling away altogether before starting her process again. She didn’t get very far, he grunted and tangled a hand in her hair before forcing her head towards him, making her take as much of his length into her mouth all at once. She placed her hands on his hips and began bobbing enthusiastically on his cock. Sometimes he’d force her further down and she’d gag slightly, then he’d take advantage and buck into her mouth faster until he was practically fucking it.

“You like that? Like when I shove my cock down your throat? I guess you’re not the prude I thought you were, are you? Or is it just that you couldn’t resist me?” She could feel the spit leaking down her chin and onto her boobs but she wouldn’t stop. Even though she could feel tears streaming down her cheeks, she wouldn’t stop. It felt too good to have him thrusting roughly into her mouth, pulling on her hair. When she thought she was going to be sick from how deep he was thrusting she’d tap on his hips and he’d pull back slightly for her to catch her breath, before continuing his assault.

Suddenly he pulled back and lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her over to her bed.

“I know what’ll help you even more.” He placed her on the bed upside-down, head hanging off the edge and gently placed a hand on her cheek. “Open. Good girl, swallow that thick cock.”

She opened her mouth again as he thrust his length inside, hissing at the feeling. He was right, it did help her. The angle allowed him to fuck her throat deeper without it making her gag as much and he definitely took advantage, roughly fucking her face as his fingers played with her nipples. He’d pull away to let her catch her breath before picking up the pace again, going faster than before. She could tell he was close when his movements became sloppy, he was pulling away to let her breathe less often, desperately trying to get as much friction as possible until he thrusted one last time and shot hot cum all down her throat. He let out a long groan as he released and collapsed on the bed beside her. She swallowed everything he gave her and then sat up sheepishly. He had his arm thrown over his eyes, breathing heavily. She pulled her kimono across her body, trying to shield it as much as possible as she went to get his shirt and trunks for him until she felt a strong hand on her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going sweetheart?” She gestured to his things briefly and he laughed breathlessly. “Do you seriously think I’m not going to look after you? Come here, I was just taking a breather.” He pulled her back, rolling her over so that he was hovering over her.

“Fuck you’re beautiful. For the record, I was never going to get bored of you. I will never get bored of you, Y/N. I like you a lot more than I think you realise. I want you so much, in so many more ways than this.” He leaned down to press his lips to hers, passionately kissing her like she’d never been kissed before.

He began trailing his lips along her jaw and down her neck. Sucking lightly at the skin, slightly marking it though not enough to last. Just enough to show her than he meant what he said. He wanted her to be his. She moaned lightly, the sound coming out husky and wanton. He took this as encouragement to brush his hands down her stomach and pull at her shorts until she lifted her hips and helped him shimmy them off. He then ghosted his fingers over her mound through her bikini bottoms, making her shiver at his touch. He was so close to where she wanted him that she decided to speed things along and pull them down herself, shimmying when they got to her knees. He laughed musically in her ear but got the message. He inched his fingers closer to where she wanted them, over one lip, then away, then over the other lip, then away again. She whined loudly and rutted upwards, trying to find friction on his hand but he pulled it away from her.

“Oh so I’m not allowed to tease but you can?” She huffed and he laughed again, his glittering dark eyes appearing over her as he placed chaste kisses to her lips between words.

“Don’t worry, love. It will feel all the better in a second.” He quickly ran a finger up her folds, eliciting a gasp from her but not enough friction to relieve any tension. He put the finger that was covered in her juices in his mouth and sucked on it without breaking eye contact before releasing it with a pop and flashing her his signature dashing smile, though it wasn’t paired with teasing eyes this time, but rather with eyes filled with affection? She was sure it wasn’t that but… it sure looked like it. He moved himself down the bed until his face was hovering over her sex. She realised she was holding her breath in anticipation. He slowly hooked one arm around her hips to keep her in place and began ghosting his lips over her lower stomach, leaving little light pecks, before moving his focus to the insides of her thighs, nipping and sucking and kissing, all the while moving closer to her centre. Before he finally let his tongue delve between her folds, he surprised her by pushing a finger into her slowly. Just as she gasped at the feeling of his finger inside her, he ran his tongue up her folds and circled her clit, causing her whole lower half to convulse in pure euphoria. He chuckled lightly at her reaction before diving in and lapping all of her juices up while adding another finger to begin stretching her out.

“Fuck, your pussy is so wet. Is this for me, princess?” He asked huskily, meeting her eyes as he resumed licking lightly at her clit.

“Fuck, Tom. It’s always you.” She was playing with her own nipples now, appreciating the sight she’d up until now only imagined. He paused briefly, making her whine.

“You’ve thought of me like this before? Have you masturbated to the thought of me?” He asked incredulously. Her cheeks flushed red when she realised what she’d said and she tried to correct herself but it was too late. His eyes lit up and he smiled widely.

“Always knew you weren’t as prudish as you tried to seem.” He demonstrated this by adding a third finger and sucking harshly on her clit, causing her to squeal and thrust her hips up towards his mouth. This time he let her, allowing her to grind her pussy onto his tongue as he fucked his fingers into her. The hand that was holding her down then came up and he tangled his fingers with hers. She could see him grinding his hips into the mattress of the bed and the thought of him being hard again from pleasuring her was pushing her fast towards her climax. She began moving her hips in time with his fingers and he ran his tongue up and down her folds, swirling it around her clit and sucking harshly until she was fast approaching her orgasm. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers as he lapped furiously until she was coming apart on his fingers, a wave of ultimate utopia clouding her every sense, a feeling she could never achieve on her own. She was beginning to think there was no other person that could make her feel this way. Only Tom. He continued thrusting his fingers and lapping at her clit until she squealed and pushed at this head to stop him, the over-sensitised feeling overwhelming her. When she glanced up she could see a giant wet patch on the sheets underneath her as well as spurts of her juices all over Tom’s face and chest.

“Did I do that?!” She asked, wide-eyed. He laughed and nodded.

“You squirted and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He told her, holding one hand over his heart.

She laughed and he moved over her, nudging her legs apart to settle in the middle. She could feel his length resting against her entrance, hot and pulsing. He caught her lips in a searing kiss, one hand coming up to cup her cheek as he slowly pushed into her. Even though he had stretched her with his fingers, she still felt the white-hot ache as he pushed deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. He buried his head in her shoulder, breathing deeply as he restrained himself from moving too much until she got used to him, placing gentle kisses along her neck.

“Mm Tom, I need you. Please.” Y/N whined, nails scraping along his shoulders and down his back. He arched into her and groaned.

“M’all yours, sweetheart.” He kissed her mouth one more time, roughly, before pulling his hips back and snapping them into her again. He pushed into her relentlessly, rendering her a hot, moaning mess under him. She was sure that if there hadn’t been music playing downstairs then everyone would hear her crying out his name over and over again. Part of her wished they could. All of Tom wished they could. He was in no better position though, moaning loudly, grunting, groaning, and every now and then he’d let out a rough shout of “Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” She thought she was going to pass out from the sheer pleasure that was rippling through her body. She was holding onto him for dear life, like he was the only thing keeping her on Earth. He grabbed her leg and placed it over his shoulder, angling his thrusts so he went deeper again, if that was even possible. She cried out a mantra of his name, making herself hoarse.

The sweat was rolling down his temples, down his body, making his abs glisten in the soft lamplight. He suddenly pulled out but didn’t even give her a second to react before he had her flipped over on her hands and knees and snapped her hips back into his as he entered her in one go and continued to pound into her from behind until her knees were weak and her arms were about to give out. When her limbs did give out, he lowered himself down, effectively fucking her into the mattress. His hips had slowed, but they were driving deeper and longer. He wasn’t just fucking her, he was relishing her. Reveling in the feeling of her, appreciating every second. His hand wrapped around her waist and his fingers found her clit, circling slowly but steadily. His hips had begun to stutter, out of time, but his hand never faulted, as if he was putting her pleasure above his own. She felt his head near hers as he practically lay on top of her, gyrating his hips deeply. She turned her body ever so slightly so that she could turn her head and capture him in a kiss. He moaned into her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers.

“M’not gonna last much longer. Cum with me, darling.” He moaned into her mouth and his words were almost like a direct command to her body because as soon as he said it she felt the wave, ever increasing, crash down on her and she, in turn, clenched around his thick cock causing him to grunt as he shot his load into her, snapping his hips into her until he had nothing left to give. She could feel the heat deep within her and it nearly made her orgasm all over again, if she hadn’t had been absolutely spent.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing deeply; his sweaty torso sticking to her back as his chest heaved. She could feel him getting soft inside her and she couldn’t help but move her hips slightly into him, relishing in the feeling until he groaned and slowly slipped out of her, making both of them gasp at the feeling. She could feel his arousal leak out of her as she turned over and sat up. He was sitting up too, waiting for her, droopy eyes and soft smile that she matched. He ran a hand over her cheek as he connected their lips once more. A quick kiss, but a deep one.

When they parted, she watched as he glanced around the room, suddenly seeming nervous. He scratched the back of his head and moved towards the edge of the bed.

“I should probably go…” Her heart dropped. He was leaving? She just had the best sex she’d ever had with the person she realised she cared a lot for, and he was leaving?! A multitude of emotions crossed her face; confusion, sadness, and then anger. Tom seemed to follow all her expressions and gauged her reaction, his eyes looked hopeful?

“You’re upset. Does that mean you want me to stay?”

“Of course I bloody want you to stay! Why the hell would I want you to leave after that!?” His eyes widened at her outburst.

“Well because you never liked me before! I just didn’t want to presume you wanted me to stay!” She softened. The Tom in front of her was not the Tom she was used to. In fact, he hadn’t been since she’d came into her room.

“I meant it when I said I wanted you in more ways than just sex. I’ve liked you for so long. I know I didn’t show it very well but after years of teasing you it felt odd to suddenly treat you any differently. Especially when any time you’d see me you’d scowl and wish I was anyone else. I realised that the only kind of interaction I’d have with you was by teasing you. I know, it’s not right and I mean I could have tried to be nice but it was so tough to figure out my feelings for you when I thought you hated me with every fibre of your being.”

The Tom in front of her was insecure, even shielding his body away from her. No trace of a lie on his face, eyes wide with emotion, and head dipped in shame. She lifted a palm to his cheek and leaned into him.

“I think I’ve always liked you. Just didn’t want to admit it to myself that the guy who stole my English essay in First year was now stealing my heart.” She smiled and he let out a loud laugh.

“Oh fuck off. I barely knew who you were and I mean you left your laptop wide open!” It was her turn to laugh then as he engulfed her body in his arms and threw them both down on the bed, grasping for the blankets to cover themselves. He held her close as they shared a few blistering kisses under the covers.

“Hmm. Always knew you’d be amazing with that mouth.”

“Tom!”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom #holland #college au #smut #rough

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worldwidemochiguy · 5 years ago

Text

Precious (Soft! Yandere Jimin)

➵ For as long as you can remember, you’ve been in love with Park Jimin. Real love, not that wishy-washy crap they tell you about. You would do anything to be with Jimin, including going on a date with an unfortunate guy in order to provoke Jimin’s jealousy...

➵ Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jimin x Soft Yandere! reader

➵ Warnings: Yandere Jimin, Kidnapping (not reader), Murder, Implied Torture (not reader), Unhealthy Behaviour, Unhealthy Mindsets, Both Jimin and reader are Messed Up

➵ Word Count: 5K

➵ Masterlist :)

From the first moment you saw him, you had known you were in love with Park Jimin.

It was the little things, like the way his eyes disappeared when he smiled or how he would curl his cute fingers so delicately around yours, that really hammered the fact home: Jimin was your soulmate.

To begin with, you had been content with brushes of contact, private smiles meant only for you, nights spent on hours-long phone calls. But now, you wanted more. You wanted to be his, wholly and forever.

You were pretty sure Jimin loved you too — how could he not? You were, after all, soulmates — but he lacked the courage to initiate anything. Not that you were criticising him, of course, Jimin was perfect, and his intermittent bursts of shamelessness and shyness were something you found charming, but… you really were starting to get impatient.

You just had to figure out the perfect way to spur him into action…

Your phone chiming dispersed any musings that clouded your head, and you refocused on the glowing screen in front of you. You had a text from Jimin!

💛Jiminie 💛

hi precious !! i was wondering if u wanted to meet up at the cafe? i miss u 🥺🥺

You didn’t attempt to restrain a squeal of delight. Jimin missed you, he wanted to see you, surely this was when he would confess, right?

Jimin waited with bated breath for your response, staring at his phone with such a fierce glare that it would have combusted if that was possible. Maybe he had come on too strong? Maybe he shouldn’t have revealed that he missed you since he saw you just yesterday? Jimin cursed to himself, fumbling to type out another text, haha just kidding, you don’t have to come-

my precious 🥺🥺

ofc i do!!!!! i’ll be there right away ! i can’t wait to see you 💕💖💓💘💗💝

Jimin flung his phone on his bed as euphoria flooded him, releasing a shout of glee. He was so excited, he would get to see you so soon! He could barely wait! He spent a frantic minute in front of the mirror, checking he looked good enough to be in your presence, and then dashed out of the door, running to the cafe down the street to meet you.

You had beaten him there, and sat waiting in your usual spot, two drinks steaming invitingly on the table before you.

“Precious!” Jimin greeted enthusiastically, and you stood up to allow him to take you in his arms more easily, tilting your neck so that he could press his face into it affectionately and breathe in your scent.

“I’m so happy to see you.” He mumbled into your skin, before pulling back to see the flush he loved so well paint itself across your cheeks.

“I’m happy to see you too, Jiminie.’ You murmured, leaning down to grab one of the cups and press it into his hands, “I bought your favourite drink for you.”

“Ah, precious, you shouldn’t have.” He scolded you gently, smoothing your hair behind your ear with his free hand, “The man should always pay.”

“That rule only applies to dates.” You giggled, before glancing up at him from beneath your lashes. “Is this a date, Jiminie?”

Jimin laughed weakly, brushing the question off even as a voice in his head screamed Yes!

“I’ll buy you a muffin to make up for it.” Jimin resolved instead, missing your disappointed sigh.

He strode up to the counter after a number of farewells and promises that he wouldn’t take too long, the name of your favourite muffin already on the tip of his tongue.

However, it turned out it wasn’t needed.

“The muffin’s for the cute girl on table 6, right?” The boy behind the counter asked, and Jimin bristled.

“Yes.”

“Cool,” The barista looked around Jimin to see you watching inquisitively, and sent a wink your way, which Jimin promptly blocked with the shift of his body. “Tell her it’s on the house. We don’t make pretty girls pay.’’

“Actually,” Jimin corrected, his voice frosty, contrasting with his burning glare. “I’m paying for her muffin.”

“Are you her boyfriend?”

Jimin almost swallowed his tongue. “…Not yet.” He admitted reluctantly.

“Well then,” The barista chuckled, setting the muffin on the counter, “sorry, dude, but she’s fair game.”

Jimin’s vision went hazy with rage for a moment. How dare he talk about you like that? Like you were common property to be bought and sold? You weren’t ‘fair game’, you were Jimin’s.

“I won’t accept that. I want to pay.” Jimin stated, voice clipped to remove the edge of violence Jimin was attempting to suppress only because you were watching. The barista’s eyes drifted to the half-empty tip jar, and Jimin felt the annoyance rise in him before the other even opened his mouth.

“You could always put the money in-”

“I’m not tipping you!” Jimin hissed, and the barista lurched back, shocked at the sudden display of venom.

“Damn, alright dude. Pay if you want. That’ll be four dollars ninety five.”

“Well that’s ridiculous I’m not paying five dollars for a fucking muffin.” Jimin spat, storming away from the counter, leaving behind a very bewildered barista.

Jimin ignored your confusion as he strode urgently towards you, tugging you up and out of the cafe, clutching your hand.

“What’s wrong Jiminie?” You questioned, once the two of you were outside again. He didn’t respond, pulling you into a hug which you gladly reciprocated, bringing your arms up to rest on his shoulders as he wound his own securely around your waist.

“We can’t go there anymore.” He informed you in a hushed tone, and you bit back a smile.

“Why not?”

You received no answer, but Jimin’s arms tightened around you noticeably. You were glad you could hide your face in his chest, otherwise it would clearly display the utter joy you were feeling.

You had solved your problem. You just had to make Jimin jealous, and then he would finally make you his.

When you returned to the café later on, the barista was all too willing to accept your insincere apologies, and agreed to meet up with you for coffee the next day to ‘make amends’. Of course, neither of you truly saw it like that. The barista saw it as a date and you saw it as a way to establish your ‘relationship’ in order to make Jimin jealous.

You couldn’t just tell Jimin that you had a boyfriend. You weren’t really sure you had the stomach for it, to be honest. You hated lying to him, and the crestfallen look you were sure to see on his face would have you scrambling to set the record straight and inform him that actually no, you don’t have a boyfriend, there’s no reason to get jealous.

You were sure to drop the fact that you were going on a date with the barista — Jihyun, he said his name was, though you barely cared enough to remember — into casual conversation with your peers.

You relished the shock they exhibited — everyone knew that you and Jimin were inseparable, in fact most people thought the two of you were dating anyway. The scandalous information that you were going out with another boy would surely circulate its’ way through the rumour mill and end up in Jimin’s ear. This way, it would seem organic, and Jimin’s jealously would be properly aroused.

Imagining his reaction was the only thing that entertained you through your date, not even attempting to listen to Jihyun droning about his dead grandma- or maybe it was his cat, you really hadn’t been listening at all.

Your gaze fixed on the entrance to the cafe, picturing Jimin storming in, the very image of righteousness, his hair ruffled by the wind as he stormed to your table and carried you out over his shoulder, claiming you as his once and for all.

Or maybe, you smiled to yourself, running a finger over your phone sitting in your pocket, he’d give you a phone call. The two of you could have a heartfelt conversation and then you’d run out of the cafe only to see he had been waiting outside for you the whole time, and the two of you would kiss passionately in the rain.

However, you realised as you stared at the growing puddles out of the window, he might not care at all.

The date ended, with you not even bothering to grace Jihyun’s half-hearted “so we’ll do this again sometime?” with an answer.

You walked back home in the rain — since you couldn’t exactly call Jimin to give you a ride — and by the time you reached your house, you were soaked. You trudged up the stairs, ignoring your mother’s greeting, and flopped facedown onto your bed.

Today had been a disaster. You had gone on a date, your first date, with someone other than Jimin. Even if it had all been fake, a ploy in order to get Jimin, you still felt repulsed. Jimin hadn’t responded like you thought he would. Jimin must have known about the date, after all, the two of you knew everything to do with the other.

There was no way the knowledge had passed him by. The two of you lived in a small town, he must’ve heard someone gossiping about it.

Maybe, a little voice whispered, maybe he did hear, but he didn’t care.

No. You told yourself firmly. Jimin does love me. He does care. I know it. Despite your self affirmations, you still felt depressed. Normally, your go-to method to cheer yourself up was to call Jimin, or meet up with Jimin, or think about Jimin, but in this specific situation, that would probably be counterproductive.

Don’t be silly, you reprimanded yourself, just call Jimin, he always makes you feel better. It’s obvious he had somehow not heard about your date, so now can be the perfect time to tell him! You would get to hear his cute jealousy in real time!

You giggled in excitement as you picked up your phone, scrolling down to the most important name on your contacts list. Your giggles increased as the phone began to ring, anticipating the moment when they would cease and you would hear Jimin’s beautiful voice greeting you.

Except that didn’t happen.

You watched dismally as the phone continued to ring for an embarrassing amount of time, before eventually switching to the answer phone. You ignored the chipper, automated voice asking you to leave a message after the tone, hanging up and dropping your phone on your bed.

He… he didn’t pick up. He always picked up. You could only see two options of what had occurred.

One, Jimin had heard about your date and was angry, angry enough that he didn’t even want to talk to you. Not ideal. You couldn’t stand it when Jimin was angry with you, luckily he almost never was.

Two, the worse option by far, Jimin had heard about your date and didn’t care. Because he didn’t love you. And he didn’t pick up the phone because he didn’t love you. Jimin didn’t love you.

Of course, there was also a third possibility making itself known — Jimin had fallen off a cliff and was unable to respond to your call because he had died. You weren’t sure which was the least preferable, honestly.

The thought that Jimin didn’t love you was agonising, enough to rip your heart open and leave you bleeding and raw, making wordless sounds of pure despair. The pain was so great it made you cry, deliberately quiet so you didn’t bother your parents downstairs.

You fell asleep like that eventually, spilling silent tears onto your pillow. Little did you know, Jimin was at that moment across town, spilling another liquid, a liquid much more red than tears.

You watched as a familiar contact name lit up your screen. ‘💛Jiminie💛 was calling you, and yet you could not feel the usual butterflies that used to pelt against the inner lining of your stomach whenever you read those words. Now, all you could summon was dread.

What if he was calling to tell you he hated you for going on a date with another man? Or what if he was calling to congratulate you on your date, proving definitively that he didn’t care about you? Or, what if he was calling to tell you that he had found his own date in retaliation?

That last paranoid thought made you click the answer button so forcefully you almost dropped your phone, pressing it to your ear desperately so Jimin could put you out of your misery.

“Precious?” You heard his voice crackle on the other side of the line, and you almost sobbed. His voice was as affectionate and soft as always.

“Jiminie!” You cried, unable to keep the desperation out of your tone. “Why didn’t you answer my call?” You didn’t want to sound too clingy, but you were unable to stop yourself from blurting out the question.

Luckily, Jimin seemed pleased by your needy behaviour.

“Did you miss me? Did you miss hearing my voice?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, uncaring of how pathetic you sounded.

“Oh, my precious, I’m so sorry.” Jimin cooed at you, “I was just sorting something out.”

“Sorting what out?” Your voice sounded annoyingly petulant even to your own ears, but Jimin just chuckled.

“I actually wanted to tell you about it in person. I’ll come and pick you up, and we can go to my place?”

“Sure!”

Your mood immediately brightened when you realised Jimin wasn’t mad at you. Everything was okay, everything was perfect. Obviously, the jealousy plan hadn’t panned out the way you had hoped it would, but that was fine because Jimin still loved you. It was a stupid plan anyway, you should have just stopped trying to do things on your own and asked Jimin for help instead. It was always easier that way.

Jimin arrived at your house on his bike five minutes later. You were waiting on your doorstep for him eagerly, dressed in your prettiest clothes which you knew he liked because he had bought them for you. When you saw Jimin, handsome as ever with a pleased smile overtaking his face when he realised you were waiting for him, you couldn’t help but run to him.

He jumped of his bike with open arms, happy to accept you flinging yourself at him. He tucked you into his chest and the two of you let out a joint sigh, happy to be in each other’s presence again.

‘My precious girl,” He murmured to the crown of your head, smoothing his hands down to rest at the small of your back. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course.” You breathed, still giddy from his presence, from the relief of knowing that Jimin loved you, even if he hadn’t told you that, yet.

“Now, come on baby, remember I have something to show you.” Jimin tugged you back to the bike with a mischievous grin, encouraging you to sit behind him and loop your arms around him for support. You clung onto him happily as the two of you glided along the streets, hoping with all your heart that you would always be able to hold Jimin this close.

Jimin had gone strangely quiet, wordlessly leading you into his house after he locked his bike safely in the shed. The further you got down the stairs and away from the front door, the more still Jimin seemed, even though he was still leading you with a pace as sure as ever.

Maybe now was the time, maybe now was when Jimin would confront you about the date…

“Are you mad at me, Jiminie?” Underneath the deceptively innocent tone of your voice, you were delighted. Jimin was finally going to tell you, he was going to loose his temper, and then-

“Not at all, precious.”

His voice, light as ever, betrayed no inner turmoil, no possessiveness of any sort. Your heart sank. Maybe Jimin really didn’t care for you like that, maybe it was all in your head…

Jimin lacing his fingers with yours jolted you out of your thoughts. You looked down at your joined hands and then back up at his smiling face, unconsciously mimicking his love-struck expression right back at him.

“Come on,” He said, tugging you along, and who were you to disobey him? “I have something really special to show you.”

“Wow, I never realised you had a basement!” You exclaimed as he brought you to a previously unnoticed door, tucked behind the linen closet.

“Yeah, well, I only show it to really special people.”

“Am I special?” You giggled, and his expression became uncharacteristically solemn.

“You’re the most special person in the world to me.”

Your heart fluttered, and as Jimin started to lean in, you let your eyes close and your lips part, the anticipation building as Jimin’s face grew ever closer-

“There,” He lifted his arm up behind you and pushed the door open, prompting you to turn around, partly because of the noise and mostly because you didn’t want Jimin to see your flushed cheeks. You had really thought he was about to kiss you.

The open doorway exposed a dark staircase, so dark you couldn’t even make out the floor it led to.

“Jimin… I’m scared, I don’t like the dark.” You confessed shyly, ducking your head in embarrassment as you heard Jimin laugh behind you.

“Yah, you’re so cute, my precious baby.” His breath was warm against your neck as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“You’ll protect me? You promise?” Your voice, though slightly breathless from Jimin’s proximity, held an underlying note of sincerity, which Jimin mirrored as he replied,

“Always.”

The two of you shared a moment of silence, stood in front of the daunting void of the basement, before you took a step forwards, into the darkness.

“Okay. I won’t be scared as long as I have my Jiminie with me.”

“Yes.” Jimin whispered from behind you, his figure still wreathed in the light of the hall, making him look almost ominous though of course you couldn’t see it since he was standing behind you. “Your Jiminie.”

“What’s that noise?” You questioned, your nose wrinkling as you continued to take tentative steps into the basement. You could hear a rustling noise, and a few scrapes. What sounded like a wet snuffling kind of noise became louder after you spoke, like it registered the presence of someone else.

“Ew, Jiminie, are there… rats?”

Jimin laughed, “There might be a few rats here, yes.”

“Jimin!” You cried in disgust, even as you turned around to press yourself against him, seeking comfort. “Why did you bring me to this horrible place? I don’t like it!”

“Hush, baby,” Jimin soothed you, rubbing your back as the snuffling became louder and you whimpered, “It’s ok, I’ll turn the light on, will that make it better?”

“Yes,” You sniffed, reluctantly allowing him to slip away. You didn’t know how he was going to find the light switch, it was so dark you could barely see, not even your hand outstretched in front of you to ensure you didn’t accidentally bump into anything.

“I’m going to turn the light on now, baby,” Jimin’s voice called, and you screwed your eyes shut. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell when the light was flicked, brightness bursting behind your lids. The snuffling and scraping intensified and you let out a whine of fear.

“Jimin!” You wailed, stretching your arms out in front of you and grasping at thin air. Soon, you felt his warmth surrounding you again.

“I’m here, precious.” He laughed, and you tilted your head towards him, brow furrowed as your eyes remained stubbornly closed. His thumb came up to smooth the wrinkled skin. “Come on now, open your eyes, I have something really special to show you.”

With Jimin’s encouragement, you finally opened your eyes. At first you couldn’t see anything at all, you vision taking its sweet time to adjust to the increased level of light, but after that, all you could see was Jimin’s gleeful face smiling down at you.

He took your breath away. He really was so beautiful.

“Good girl,” he praised you for obeying him, “Now all you need to do is turn around and look at my surprise for you.”

You nodded at him, eager to do what he asked of you and excited to see what surprise he had prepared for you. It must have been good if it required all of this extra preparation. Your mind flitted from possibility to possibility as to what Jimin’s gift could be, but none of your ideas prepared you for what you saw when you eventually turned around.

The barista, the one you went on a date with, was sat on the chair, completely bound from head to toe. He had a gag in his mouth, but still he seemed desperate to warn you. The only sounds escaping him were the muffled pants and snuffles that could escape around the rope in between his teeth.

One of his eyes was wide, fixed on you in a mixture of terror and pity. The other was swollen shut, and covered in blood from a cut that appeared to start on his forehead. You couldn’t tell really. He had blood all over him.

You drifted towards him without realising it. He tried to yank his hands up as you approached to no avail, merely succeeding in rubbing his already-bloodied wrists against his restraints, dragging out pained whimpers from his mouth. You watched almost in a trance as your own hand lifted. It moved to cup his face in an almost tender manner, surely the softest touch he had felt in a while.

You brushed your thumb along his cheekbone, dragging the skin up slightly. And then digging into the swelling of his black eye.

His scream echoed behind you as you whirled around, disregarding the barista entirely and focusing only on Jimin, who was watching you with a mixture of confusion and excitement.

“Jimin, why did you do this?” Though your words could have sounded accusatory, your wide smile and the excited tilt to your voice told Jimin that was not the case. You seemed… pleased. This was going much better than he had expected so far.

“I… uh, I heard. About the date.” At this, your brows rose, and your smile became even more radiant. Jimin found it hard to breathe when you looked at him like that.

“And?” You prompted, and Jimin stuttered out an answer, somehow shy despite all that he had done just last night, all for you.

“And I didn’t like it. I wanted to hurt him.”

“And why is that?” You sounded so delighted, and Jimin finally snapped.

“Because you’re mine.”

His words caused a full-body shiver to run through you, and you released a sigh so drawn-out that it was practically erotic. Indeed, Jimin felt himself twitch in his pants.

“Oh, you have no idea how good that is to hear.”

“…I don’t?” Jimin questioned, still slightly bewildered, and you gave him another smile, which really didn’t help matters.

Jimin felt his heart grind to a stop as you came over and draped your body across his. The two of you had been very tactile practically since the day you met, but you had never looked at him with such open desire written across your expression before. Jimin’s mouth went dry.

“I have been waiting for you to claim me since the day we met. Once I realised you weren’t just going to tell me, I decided to make you jealous. And it worked.”

“So the date…” Jimin started and you smirked up at him.

“It was just to get your attention. He means nothing to me. The only man I care about-” you dipped down to place a kiss on his collar bone, and Jimin felt his soul depart from his body and ascend into nirvana, “is you.”

“Well,” Jimin ground out, his hands somehow wandering their way back down to the small of your back and tugging you roughly into him, eliciting a little gasp to slip past your pretty lips, “It’s not like you have to work very hard to get my attention, precious.”

You giggled, biting your lip and looking up at him coyly beneath thick lashes. “But what if I want to?”

Fuck, you really were going to kill him, weren’t you?

“Then I guess you’ll have to pay the price.” Jimin purred, leaning in to mouth along the side of your neck, relished the soft noise you made as you tilted your head to give him better access. He bit you, his teeth sinking in satisfyingly as your yelp of pain melted into a moan. He pulled his mouth away from your skin reluctantly. “Take the punishment.”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, Jiminie.” You breathed, suddenly so soft and fragile that all Jimin wanted to do was wrap you up in a blanket and snuggle you, regardless of his cock pressing uncomfortably against the front of his pants. But, unfortunately, he had other matters to attend to.

“As much as I want to give you everything I possibly can at this very moment, precious, we do have the small matter of Jihyun to attend to.”

“Jihyun?” You repeated blankly, and Jimin gaped.

“…The boy you went on a date with? Who is sitting tied up in this very basement, staring at us?”

“Oh!” You realised with an adorably sheepish grin, “I forgot his name.”

“You forgot his name?” Jimin asked, immeasurably pleased, shooting a smug look at Jihyun who probably couldn’t care less, but Jimin cared. “That’s so sexy.” He informed you, and you giggled.

“Me being forgetful is sexy?”

“You not caring about anything other than me is sexy.” Jimin corrected with a smug grin, and you decided to further indulge him.

“During our ‘fake date’, I couldn’t listen to a single word he said because I was so distracted thinking about how you would come and sweep me off my feet.”

“Fuck, precious,” Jimin groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder, “How am I meant to focus on killing him when you’re being so cute?”

Jihyun — who had been as quiet as possible, hoping that the two psychopaths would just forget about him and go and have their psycho sex session somewhere else — stiffened as your eyes fixed on him again, the crazy glint in it a lot more obvious now. He had originally thought it was just the lighting of the café, and you were attractive enough for him to ignore it, but now he was tied up in a basement, it was a lot harder to overlook.

“I mean, I could always kill him for you?” You suggested, to Jimin’s surprise.

“Really?”

“Well, why not, y’know? I’ve never killed anyone before, and I want my first time to be… for the sake of love.” At your dedicated tone, Jimin melted, taking your face in his hands and kissing you senseless.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He groaned, face pressed against yours, “Okay, you can kill him, but not right now. Now I want you all to myself.”

Jimin pulled you up the stairs, stopping frequently to capture your lips in passionate kisses that left you breathless with want. You could barely think, the only thing running through your head was Jimin. You could barely believe you were finally with Jimin, the wait was over and now the two of you were free to just love each other.

In fact, you were so caught up in Jimin that you didn’t even hear the sirens outside. But Jimin did, and he yanked you to the side just in time to avoid the glance of a police officer as they peered in through the window, effectively killing the mood.

“Looks like the suspect isn’t at home yet.” The cop spoke into their radio, receiving a cracking response.

“Stay there until Park Jimin returns. He was witnessed kidnapping Lee Jihyun last night in a nearby area. It’s likely he’ll return to his home soon.”

“Shit,” Jimin hissed, and you agreed silently. Shit. “Precious,” he gripped your shoulders tightly, shaking you as if to emphasise the severity of the situation, “You have to run. They’re after me, not you. There’s no proof that you’ve done anything wrong.”

“What, you want me to abandon you?” You spluttered, and Jimin hushed you.

“You have to, precious.” His tone was solemn, and you could tell that, if he had to, he would force you out of the house himself. And he was technically right, you hadn’t done anything against the law. Yet.

You ducked under Jimin’s arms and he watched you run away, resigned. He thought you had taken his advice and, though he was glad to know you would be safe, he almost wished you had taken a little bit more convincing, rather than leaving him so readily.

By the time he realised you had darted into the kitchen to grab a knife, it was too late.

He chased you down the stairs, but couldn’t catch you in time, determination made your footsteps swift. Jihyun’s eyes barely had time to widen before you plunged the knife into his chest.

You left it there, uncaring as he gurgled on his own blood. The wound didn’t have to be fatal, in fact, it was better if it wasn’t. If Jihyun could name you as his assaulter, Jimin wouldn’t be able to make the argument of your innocence.

You turned back around to see Jimin watching you, dumbstruck. You shrugged.

“At least we’ll go to jail together.”

He held his hand out to you and you rushed to take it, the two of you running up the stairs again, taking care to make your steps as light as possible so you weren’t heard from outside. Jimin led you to the backdoor — foolishly left unguarded by the police — and paused at the threshold, eyeing you cautiously.

“If we do this, we’re going to have to stick together.”

You squeezed his hand, blood-stained fingers intertwined, and grinned at him.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He grinned back.

“Then let’s run, precious.”

654 notes · View notes

hatsukeii · 5 years ago

Text

I have another songfic idea and despite the requests in my box I will do this first lmao if I don’t Imma forget tomorrow-

This blog is bnha starved, so let’s go with that:3

Idfc//Soulmate AU! Bakugou x Reader

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: In a world where the name of your soulmate’s quirk is tattooed on your arm when you turn 17, Bakugou got unlucky in the soulmate department.

Despite all his prayers and wishes for the words “Game Over” to appear on his arm, life just didn’t want to go his way.

What’s even worse, is those words ended up on shitty half n’ half’s arm.

What a way to screw with Bakugou.

He watches as you step out of the school gates, Todoroki’s arm wrapped around your waist. Giving you a tiny wave, he rocks forward and backward, hoping for you to notice him. You glance towards his direction, pursing your lips, before ignoring him and making your way home with your boyfriend. The ash blond’s fake grin falters, shoving his hands down his pockets, head hanging low as he turns around and goes his own way.

He still remembers the moment he realised you weren’t his soulmate. The way his heart dropped when the words on his arm said “Zero Gravity”. His parents were ecstatic, cheering as they celebrated over how their baby boy was growing up, and how he would soon meet the love of his life. What they didn’t know, was that he had already found the one he loved, and it sure as hell wasn’t Uraraka, whose quirk was on his arm. Just that one revelation was enough to make his entire weekend shitty. He definitely did NOT want to be with Uraraka. She was way too bubbly and annoying. Plus, her quirk had a lame name. And she’s way too clingy for his liking. He tried his best to stay optimistic about the situation. Maybe he’ll eventually be able to change his fate if he defied it. Maybe if he was able to make you love him back, the names would change. He racked his brains, searched for answers on every website he could think of, asked on every forum he could find, but still, nothing. He was stuck with Uraraka, and there was nothing he could do but sulk and accept it. That night, he cried himself to sleep, knowing he was never going to get a chance with you. The only person he wanted was snatched away from him and just the thought of being able to win her over was ripped to shreds.

The following Monday back to school was no better. In fact, it was worse. He watched as you excitedly told him about your soulmate, the words “Half Hot Half Cold” imprinted on your skin as you explained how you got it the day before. You were beyond excited, knowing fully well who your soulmate was. The pretty boy of 1-A that all the girls were head over heels for. Thank god you couldn’t tell that the tiny grin plastered on his face and the playful cheering was fake. Those were all just poor attempts to mask all the despair and heartbreak he stored up in his chest. All Bakugou could possibly do was be happy for you. That’s what he should’ve done. However, no matter how hard he tried, it just never worked out. You were always there in the back of his head, lingering around in his mind like an annoying pest that he couldn’t get rid of. Thinking of you became a daily routine. He would stare at you longingly in class, text you every day after school, cry about you every night, and wake up puffy eyed. Waves of depression hit him every single time the sight of you having fun with Todoroki appeared in front of his eyes. He swore that if he heard another person talk about how cute you and Todoroki were together he would punch their face in. People backed away from him whenever he was close to the dual haired boy, not wanting to get on his nerves.

In class, Aizawa started noticing his lack of focus in class. For months, Bakugou had been in a constant state of daydream, staring at you in class as he thought of all the things you two could do if only you were his soulmate. He would spoil you so badly. Take you out on as many dates as he possibly could. Kiss your tears away when you were crying. Pillow fights every weekend. Cuddle you while the two of you watched movies on your bed. Eventually present you with a diamond ring in a tiny velvet box. All those possibilities, flushed right down the drain as he was constantly snapped back to reality by his homeroom teacher every single time, remembering that he was only a best friend to you, nothing more. He wasn’t doing as well in class, and his parents were worried. Since when did their straight A son start flunking English? Mitsuki was anxiety ridden, fearing for her son’s mental state, as she should. Bakugou would rather die than admit he was weak, but at times like these, a motherly hug would be nice. Mitsuki would let her son cry on her lap, instead of sulk on his bed all alone. He may not have told her anything about what was making him seemingly depressed, but all he wanted was some form of emotional support, even if it was from his old hag. Masaru would join in sometimes, giving Bakugou a few pats on the head or ruffling his hair. They didn’t know what had changed his son so drastically, however despite their worries for his academics, they knew that he was not okay, and that it was their job to help him, even if they were in the dark about the situation.

“Bakugou, you’re going home alone again? I thought Kirishima was gonna walk you back!” Mina jogs towards Bakugou, placing and hand on his shoulder and launching herself into the air with a jump. Usually, Bakugou would flick her hand off at the last moment, but instead of doing that, he remains stoic, completely ignoring everything around him. “Haaaah? Hello? Earth to Bakugou?” He rolls his eyes, trying not to blast the pinkette’s fingers off as she pokes his cheek, trying to get a reaction out of him as Kaminari and Sero approached the two.

The Bakusquad were quick to catch up on his issue. Kirishima was the first to point out the difference in his now quiet, negative attitude compared to his usually boisterous and aggressive personality. Being the top tier best friend he was, he tried his hardest to get something out of Bakugou. Anything. He soon informed the rest of the gang about it, much to the blond’s annoyance. Since then, they’ve been trying to get Bakugou out of his heartbroken state and back into the rat he usually is. Everyone was worried for him, fearing that this would affect his mental health. They were there for Bakugou since day one, hyping him up whenever he was about to make a move. Cheering him on when he finally asked you out. Encouraging him to continue fighting for you when he was feeling down. They always thought the two of you were meant to be, but they were mistaken, because obviously fate has a cruel way of messing with people. Out of everyone, Kirishima was the most concerned. He had watched his best friend put himself down time and time again, all because of you. He was always there to give him a punch to the back, reminding him that he still had a chance. He was there to listen when Bakugou wanted to vent his issues out. He was his number one wingman, setting the two of you up in secret as an attempt to help Bakugou get with you. When he eventually found out his soulmate was Uraraka, and that yours was Todoroki, he was shocked, to say the least. However he was also frightened. Scared. He was scared that Bakugou would go back to his cold self. He was scared that the friendship he had bonded with you would break. He was scared his best bro’s heart would be shattered. Despite his efforts to cheer him up, the blond was not improving. The fiery, determined flares in his crimson irises were gone, replaced by a dull, hopeless maroon.

“Don’t be so down in the dumps about the whole soulmate thing Bakubro! Maybe you’ll eventually move on!” Oh, what a big mistake Kaminari just made. The icy glare sent his way is scary enough to kill, piercing through his skull and shaking every single nerve in his body up. “I don’t fucking care at all. Leave me the fuck alone.” This isn’t his usually grumpy attitude, where he’s just irritated. He’s being dead serious, his tone hinting that if they didn’t get away from him right this instant, they were going to get their asses kicked badly. “Guys, maybe we should just leave him alone for now.” The three teens backed away from their moody friend, waving him off before going their separate ways.

Whenever anyone tried to make an effort to understand his frustration, the only answer they would receive was a forced out “I don’t fucking care.” That was the only thing Bakugou would tell people, including you. Oh how oblivious he was, thinking no one saw through the facade he was putting up. If he had to admit he was a weak bitch that cried over some stupid crush, he would kill everyone in the room and then himself if that’s the last thing he does. No way in hell is he letting his strong, tough, intimidating image down. Time after time, he would tell people he didn’t give a fuck about you. That you were just another extra in his life. Just another stepping stone to his inevitable victory. The time you overheard him telling Kirishima you were just another obstacle in the way of his success made your heart shatter into a million pieces. You slowly started to let him go, not wanting to let yourself get hurt anymore by his words. Everyone acted like they fell for his white lies, as if they were dumb enough to not hear the audible hint of pain in his usually shameless voice. He really did all this, just to convince himself to move on from these useless feelings that ate him up from the inside. His usually unfriendly self became extra hostile, shutting out everyone that tried to help him. He was increasingly aggressive with each passing day, letting out all the pent up anger and bitterness onto his classmates. At that point, Midoriya was so scared that he requested for a seat change from Aizawa. Almost nobody dared approach him. Some even begged for him to be excluded from sparring and training, although it was unsuccessful. It was guaranteed, without question, that whoever was going against him was going to be beaten to a pulp, bloodied and battered, burn marks everywhere on their bodies. In some instances, All Might had to step in, and even he suffered a few nasty blasts from the ash blond. Even you were getting irritated by his irrational actions, occasionally calling him out for it, much to his dismay. This was the last thing he wanted. For you to slowly break away all the bonds you two made. For you to take another person’s side, without even thinking about how he felt.

Walking out from his quick shower, he sat on his bed, grabbing his phone and going through your chat again, as if the ‘seen’ at the bottom of the wall of good morning and goodnight texts will magically disappear and replace itself with your replies. Groaning, he throws his phone onto the wall, letting it fall back onto his mattress as he shoves his face into his hands.

Since the time you heard him call you an obstacle, you started to let go of the friendship you had made with the fiery teen. He held a special place in your heart. He was your first, and best friend. You two shared everything during those late night talks you had through FaceTime. If you had to choose between Todoroki or Bakugou, you would save the latter first. The moment you realised Todoroki was your soulmate, you were ecstatic. Your fat crush on the aloof boy was a known thing around 1-A, and the fact that you were lucky enough to get him as your soulmate made all the girls jealous. However, things took a turn when Bakugou started to go back to his cold self. He stopped calling you after school. He stopped walking you home. He stopped trying to keep a conversation with you, only replying with the driest responses he could muster up. You didn’t know what was up with him, but it was annoying you. The one time you were looking to confront him, you overheard his conversation with Kirishima. “She’s just an obstacle.” “A stepping stone to my victory.” “I don’t fucking care about her.” It was as if everything you have done to befriend him was for nothing. He only thought of you as some extra. Nothing more. You were pissed, definitely. He was acting cold, ignoring you, all because he never cared. You made up your mind, and sent him one last text.

“If you didn’t care about me then we should’ve never became friends.”

And with that, the friendship that you two put so close to heart was erased from your life, never to be seen again as you left his side and joined with Todoroki.

This is the last straw for Bakugou. He yells into his hands. Nobody’s home, and even if somebody were in the house, he doesn’t care. He screams until his lungs give out, his voice reducing to a raspy groan after ten whole minutes of screaming. He was mad at himself. He was mad at his fate. Why did it have to take away the best thing that happened to him? Why did you have to land in the hands of Todoroki? Just the thought of it fills him with anger, sparks emitting from his palms as his sight is clouded by red. Scrambling onto his bed, he sends punch after punch towards his pillow, activating his quirk and letting the fabric burn as he continues the assault on the pillow, feathers now flying all around him as he screams, tasting his own tears. He doesn’t care about his pillow being completely demolished. He has extras at home anyways. Throwing the now tattered pillow onto the floor, he grabs a new one and shoves his head into it, sniffling into the cool material. “Why do I feel like this? How can one person ruin everything for me? Why is this happening? What kind of God does this to people? Why do I care anyways?” His eyes widen as he realises what he just confessed to himself. “No. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care at all. I don’t care. Not a shitty single fucking bit.” His heart aches when he says that, as if it’s mocking him for trying too hard to convince himself to believe something that was completely untrue. The ash blond thrashes wildly on his bed out of frustration, kicking his sheets away and muffling his strained screams into the clean pillow. “Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! WHY? CAN’T YOU JUST GET OUT OF MY HEAD FOR A FUCKING DAY? JUST A FUCKING SECOND? PLEASE?” Pulling his sleeve up, he stares at the words “Zero Gravity” in disgust. Bringing his free hand up, he activates his quirk, sending a scorching burn to the words as he hisses in pain, flinching a little bit. The soul mark is now a shade of pink, but the words are still clear as day. He knows he screwed up bad with you, but what could he do about it? You’re happily dating your soulmate, and all ties between you two have been cut off. All his texts have been left on seen. You have stopped talking to him. With that, Bakugou knew what he had to eventually come to terms to.

He cares. He cares too much.

All the times he’s said “I don’t fucking care” were just pathetic attempts to forget about the cruel truth, even just for a moment.

You’re never going to go back to him.

Todoroki is your boyfriend.

And he was just another classmate to you.

References:

Idfc- Blackbear

Lyrics to said song

A whole lotta brainstorming because oh my god my angsts are becoming more and more predictable and repetitive and I hate it ahahhaha

Tags:

@ewfilthymundane @izzyphantomgamer @artsamber @sunshines-and-tatertots @tiger1719 @inlwlevi @burnt-tomato @just-another-bored-writer @macaronnv @random-fandomlover @kaylacinderella @justachillgirl @for-ests @bokutokoutarou @trashcanweeb @itmekisuu @poppirocks @xonfusedsoul @shoutsukii @estherwritess @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @fullmetalfangirl21 @mariechan123 @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @tiredgr3mlin @letshaikyuu @emsvegetables

Have fun reading this love ya sorry for not writing anything in days and uh I’m gonna go to sleep now because I have school and I need at least 5 hours:D

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annhellsing · 5 years ago

Text

Meet the War

notes: i love zenos so much and while this is shameless smut, it’s also a little bit of a character study. thank you so much to @mitsurugireiji for beta reading and giving me ideas aplenty!! rating: explicit, there’s nudity and oral sex. pairing: zenos yae Galvus / reader word count: 2,457

He has a bleary, hopeless love about him that even he isn’t aware of. You’re sure that any trace of it must be accidental, Zenos avoids clear emotion like the plague. But whatever airtight seal he has over himself seems to loosen when your arms loop around him. He seems to give in, to unwind like bandages keeping in a wound. His guts spill out in the figurative sense, although the sensation is very literal to him.

“What’s that look?” you ask, tapping the end of his thin nose very gently with the pad of your index finger. It comes away a bit red. Zenos visibly bristles. You pout. “Oh, it’s gone.”

“What’re you talking about?” he drawls, unhappy that you’ve gone and drawn attention to him. He shifts on the bed, nudging a little closer to you and your seeking arms. You smile a bit, leaning in and this time--- it’s a kiss you press where you once tapped.

When you drag your tongue over your lower lip, it tastes like coppery blood.

“Like you were all happy and content,” you explain, “that was the look you had. I liked it.”

He scoffs between his teeth, but doesn’t turn away from your lips against his face. You kiss his cheeks, the high points of each of them and the dip of the bridge of his nose. You put your mouth to the hollows of his eyelids, breathing softly against his forehead. When he shivers, you can feel it against your chest.

And all the while there is the pervasive smell of metal, of iron and copper. You’re not sure of its origin, or whether there is more or less blood when you pull away. A great deal splashed on your person, going as ignored as the gore that stains him.

Your wrist is caught in his hand before it touches his cheek. Kisses and touches at the same time are risky things, liable to overwhelm the man. So you slow, letting him hold you in his loose grip with your palm up.

Zenos turns his face towards it, puts a kiss to where your thumb joins with your hand. Then, another one under your index and middle finger. A third under your ring and pinkie. You sigh against him, when you’re at last released and permitted to touch.

He isn’t used to it, of course. It’s the reason why he scowls, for your painless acts of love are deeply foreign. But they please you, and he was made to please you. So they are allowed.

You don’t care that he tastes of sword-metal and smoke. That every swipe of your tongue over his lips comes up blood. He will never be satisfied, but that is especially true following a hunt. Leading him to violence carries the same conclusion time and time again, you cannot be cross with him for being consistent.

“If anyone were to walk in on us, they would think us depraved,” you smile at him. His lip quirks up a fraction.

“They would be right, I should think,” he replies. He nuzzles his face closer to you, trying to catch with the bed of his tongue the bead of your enemy’s blood that carves its red path down your cheek. You sputter and pull away with a laugh.

“Don’t be vulgar, darling,” you chastise with all the weight of gentle mockery. “Though it does seem we’re both in need of a bath.”

“But I like the look of you as you are,” Zenos hums, pushing his hand through your hair. His big fingers do not tug or pull, and they come to rest at the base of your skull. “Exactly as you are.”

“Then you are the depraved one,” you laugh again, sitting up on the bed and prompting him to withdraw his arm. He looks displeased, like he was looking forward to spending the dwindling evening lying there with you.

“Kiss me again,” he wants to sound demanding, the way an emperor should. But it falls flat, sounding more like a plea the longer you stare at him. As always, your eyes are gentle but they take in the blood pooling in his cupid's bow. And that which is quickly drying on his cheeks.

“One more kiss,” you bargain, “and then a bath, for I am not so keen to make love in this state as you are.”

You lean forward and bestow the gift he asks for. A kiss, his lips to your lips is easily given. Zenos tries to keep you there, his big hands grab for your shoulders but you’re too quick. You grab him by the scruff of the shirt and haul him up to sit next to you.

“Who said anything of lovemaking?” he asks, tilting his head a touch to emphasize his own teasing. You pull him closer, barely gentle before giving him a wolfish smile.

“You have been hard since you sunk your blade in that very first soldier,” you beam, “how long ago was that? Over an hour? You must be very sore by now.”

“Then take me,” he mumbles, his bloody face is inches from yours, “prove that you are right.”

His hand moves quickly, between his legs and over the prominent bulge in his underclothes. Zenos stiffens, gasping slightly for dramatic effect. That is, until he catches your unamused eye. He falters, just slightly.

“No,” you say. And he knows he is to remove his hand. He does it slowly, but at least he does it this time. He’s learned his lesson from last week. “Did I say that you could touch?”

“Well, if you aren’t going to---” he starts. You cut him off with a glare, your fist tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

“A bath,” you say, “now.”

“And after that?” he gives a hopeful look that you’re sure he isn’t aware of.

“Get up,” you say, though your voice is not as anger-hardened as your eyes. That gives him a bit of hope, at least.

What he’s pulled towards is not, of course, a real tub. A tent in the middle of a battlefield that runs red with the enemy’s blood is a far cry from the amenities a palace can provide. But since you are so insistent upon cleanliness, Zenos chooses to kneel at the water basin--- if only to placate you.

The water is still warm when you cup your hand and dip it below the surface. Pulling his hair back, you wet his cheeks and forehead, working to get the worst of the gore off of him. He gives an inaudible sigh, still confused by intimacy but not about to rebuke it.

While he would happily wear the marker of a dead enemy on him, and stink of death for a bit--- there is something nice about being cared for. His eyes are closed, but he can still imagine how you look. You’re annoyed, but still gentle.

“Thankfully, most of it splashed on your armour,” you say, “so I won’t have to wash your underclothes.”

He hums at that, unsure of how to bridge the fact that you would be the one to take on a servant’s labour. But for him, Zenos has to accept, you would debase yourself quite a bit.

Still, no further than he is to debase himself. He is the one kneeling, let’s not forget.

You are painfully thorough, despite the softness of your palm on his face. Zenos is unnerved, of course, by what he does not understand and yet the feeling never passes into unpleasantness. He feels cared for, for a change. He cannot remember the last time he felt such a way.

“Let me have a look at you,” you coo, putting your hand under his chin and turning it to yours. His eyes are still closed, you dab at the water on his face and brush his hair back from his forehead.

He’s greeted by your fond gaze when he finally opens his eyes. Zenos stares back, on his knees and captivated by how beautiful you can look in the afterglow of conflict. He will be sorry to see it carelessly discarded.

“That’s better,” you praise, “you’re back to your handsome self.”

“I beg to differ,” he says, impish and sly like a fox. “I preferred how I looked before your meddling.”

“Well, that wasn’t your choice,” you remind him. He huffs. “Kneel by the bedside, my love. I’ll join you in a bit when I’m clean.”

He wants to make more of a fuss than he does. But Zenos knows better than to protest your wishes in this respect, he’s learned through much trial and error to trust your command. You alone have earned the right to order him about.

He rises easily from the floor, towering over you with a menacing look on his face. But he does as he’s told, kneeling next to the low bed in an attempt to earn the favour of his only friend.

As much as he’s been told he already has your favour, he still doubts as much on occasion. You wash your face in the same water. The act is almost shockingly intimate, and you don’t need to lay a finger on him at all.

“Clothes off,” you order in a very quiet voice. He takes that as gospel.

His linen tunic is nearly ripped off, tugged over his shoulders quickly enough to fray fabric. Zenos gives as much time to his underclothes as he does his shirt, casting them aside quickly while you rid yourself of blood.

You look so small without your armour. Almost slight. But still poised and graceful, bending before the water basin with a delicate curve of your back. You pat your face dry and look at him over your shoulder, beaming broadly.

“That is so much better,” you comment.

“Now will you join me?” he asks like it’s been ages since you sent him away. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, I suppose,” you concede.

With a toss of your hair, you move to him. Your hips sway and carnal delight blooms in his eyes. Your shift, dotted with oxidized blood is pulled just as sharply off of you, leaving you just as bare.

Hatred almost leaps in him, in sharp contrast to that ever-present love. You know he still sees you as half a rival, flaring equal parts rage and adoration in his crowded chest. For a man with few opportunities to feel, he does so in both lavish and terrifying ways.

“We are no longer in battle,” you remind him, “where is that contented look I saw before?”

“You attempt to get a rise from me,” he deadpans, still on his knees. His clean face nuzzles against your bare stomach once you’re close enough. Zenos kisses just below your navel, his teeth graze your skin gently.

“Absolutely,” you reply, tilting his chin up until his eyes are fixed on yours. “Come now, aren’t you the least bit happy?”

“I am,” he sighs after a longer pause than you expected. You dip your head, catching his lips in a warm and bloodless kiss.

You seize his hair very suddenly, pulling him back and making him hiss with delight. You tug his head forward, widening your stance just enough that he can catch a glimpse between your legs.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” you tell him, “would you like to get a bit closer?”

“Yes,” he exhales, leaning towards the hairline fracture like a man starved. You let go, allowing him to crash forward against your thighs.

He curls in on himself, arching his back so he’s low enough to reach. To touch the tip of his tongue against where you are most sensitive.

You gasp, the sound is heavenly and his hands rise to your hips. He grips you tight, tight enough to border on pain. You tug on his hair in retaliation, which only makes him moan against your clit. There is violence in the way he loves, you’ve more than accepted it.

“Gentle,” you tut, he doesn’t pay attention.

You are prey, he reminds himself. Even as he’s on his knees, devouring you with the bed of his tongue. You are just prey. Prey who hooks their knee over his broad shoulder, granting him unfettered access to your warmth.

His eyes close, lost in the sensation of trying to bring pleasure to his greatest enemy. But also to his closest friend. Zenos cannot deny his wish to do right by you as the tip of his tongue follows the petals of your inner labia. You shiver against him, a beautiful feeling.

“Yes, yes,” you’ve taken to sighing. He wants to hear it louder.

The hate is home to him, the want to sink his teeth into your sensitive flesh until he tastes blood is like an echo. A memory, a way to control an uncertain situation. But more inviting is your breathless gasp, your hands in his hair that go slack and soft.

You hold the back of his head, cradling him without pushing too hard. You only ask to be served, even when you seem to command. And Zenos knows, before anyone else, you deserve his compliance.

Whispered encouragement does wonders. He settles in more bodily, licking and prodding and taking of your sex with his seeking tongue. His cock, hard and proud against his thigh is mostly ignored, but for a few tugs every now and again.

You notice, you do, but you allow it. Zenos fought well today.

“Enough,” you whisper when it isn’t true. You could demand more of him, but you can tell by the way his eyes squeeze shut that his jaw is beginning to ache. You step back, careful when unhooking your leg and using his shoulders to steady yourself.

He opens his eyes, licking his lips with a fox-like satisfaction. You take his face again in your hands and put your thumbs to the hinge of his jaw. Rubbing slow circles where the mild ache blooms, Zenos registers after a moment that you are speaking.

“You are improving, hunter,” you whisper. He nods, the gesture more adorable than you’re sure he would be comfortable with.

“As is evidenced by your mewling,” he drawls, looking pleased with himself. He’s more than earned it. You steal another kiss, just at the corner of his mouth and he falls silent.

Love is a strange thing. Zenos isn’t certain that this is it, either. But your careful touches and devious smiles feel so new, so foreign that it cannot be anything else. The hate runs thick, yes, and he indulges it for its familiarity. But it is your love that sets him alight.

#zenos yae galvus #zenos zos galvus #zenos x reader #zenos yae galvus x reader #zenos zos galvus x reader #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv zenos #ta da a a a #nsft #anniewrites

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moonwaif · 5 years ago

Text

Of Bunnies and Sleeves and All Happy Things

Summary: When Lan Wangji tells Wei Ying to go pester somebody else, he doesn’t expect him to actually do it. Or, Lan Wangji definitely, absolutely does not miss Wei Ying's attention--despite the fact that he can't stop thinking about it.

Pairing: WangXian

Words: 3,000+

Rating: G

Tags: two dorks, failed attempts at flirting, Lan Zhan is jealous, but he doesn't know it, unresolved romantic and sexual tension, Mutual Pining

Warnings: alcoholic beverages

When Lan Wangji tells Wei Ying to go pester somebody else, he doesn’t expect him to actually do it. But the next morning, Wei Ying passes him wordlessly in the corridor like a cold breeze. In the library later that same day, Wei Ying never once throws a crumpled paper or a deliberately provocative statement his way. Instead, Wei Ying copies the text dutifully, pausing every once in a while to stretch or sigh. When the time is up, he opens his mouth like he's about to say something, and Lan Wangji tenses with anticipation. But then Wei Ying's lips close, his brow furrows, and he turns, departing without so much as a goodbye.

Lan Wangji is stunned.

He sits motionlessly, staring at the space where Wei Ying stood just moments before, trying to puzzle out what just happened. Maybe Wei Ying found a new distraction. He wonders briefly what--or who--it could be, then catches himself. Turning his attention back to the text in front of him, Lan Wangji tries to disregard the ever-expanding feeling of tension in his chest.

He doesn’t see Wei Ying again until the next day’s lecture--although “see” is perhaps not the right word. Aside from a quick, initial glance darted in Wei Ying’s direction, Lan Wangji spends the rest of the lecture steadfastly ignoring him. For once, he is able to. No paper men come creeping up over his shoulder. No drawings find their way onto his desk, no jokes are hissed in his direction. It’s not until he hears the familiar whispering that he finally darts a furtive glance in the culprit’s direction. It’s Wei Ying, of course. He’s leaned over his desk, grin wide and eyes shining--the same way he usually looks when trying to pester Lan Wangji. The boy in front of him--a cousin of Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji thinks, although he isn’t certain--tilts his head so that his ear is pointed toward Wei Ying’s fast-moving lips. His breath catches, and both their shoulders shake as they fight to suppress giggles.

Lan Wangji looks away.

The next time Lan Wangji sees Wei Ying, he is accompanied by Jiang Wanyin, Nie Huaisang and the nameless cousin. They are on the other side of the courtyard, headed in the opposite direction from Lan Wangji. He wonders where they are going. After all, it is only natural to be concerned--anyone would be--since wherever Wei Ying goes, trouble is sure to start. As he ponders, Lan Wangji catches snippets of their conversation.

"See?" Wei Ying says, tossing Jiang Wanyin a winning smile--the one that always does something funny to Lan Wangji's stomach. "I told you I could do it."

Jiang Wanyin snorts, skeptical. "Whatever! I saw you stealing glances when you thought no one was looking. You won't last even one more day."

"Who says I can't? You make it sound like I'm obsessed."

"Aren't you?" Jiang Wanyin quips back. Wei Ying gives him a sour look.

"I think Wei-xiong can definitely do it," Nie Huaisang says confidently. His cousin nods in agreement. Wei Ying immediately brightens.

"Of course I can! Jiang Cheng, I hope you have more money than you do faith, because by the end of this week you better be ready to pay up."

Are they talking about . . . a bet? Lan Wangji frowns. Gambling is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, since all games of chance should be avoided by men of virtue. He considers intervening.

At that moment, Wei Ying looks up, their gazes locking across the distance. The concerns that just seconds ago seemed so pressing to Lan Wangji vanish. He waits for Wei Ying to call out to him, waits for him to come racing over with that embarrassingly obvious enthusiasm that Lan Wangji does not understand but has somehow grown to expect.

Wei Ying looks away.

Lan Wangji's chest tightens like a vice. He watches as Wei Ying throws an arm over his new friend’s shoulder, and the four of them round the corner, disappearing until nothing but the echo of their laughter remains.

----

Over the next few days, Lan Wangji has more time to practice guqin. He completes all his readings and even has spare time for additional studies. None of his meditation sessions are interrupted. Best of all, he does not find himself in any unexpected or disgraceful situations.

So why does he feel so ill at ease?

“Wangji.”

Lan Xichen’s gaze is gentle, like a warm hand on his cheek. They have just finished eating with their uncle. Now they stand outside, surrounded by a curtain of cricket song under the evening sky.

“Something troubles you,” Lan Xichen says. Lan Wangji's lips purse. A second passes. Lan Xichen’s chin dips slightly, eyes carefully reading his brother’s expression. “Is it . . . young master Wei?"

Lan Wangji swallows. His brother smiles.

“If something troubles you, or you are worried for your friend, perhaps you should try speaking with him.”

The thought of approaching Wei Ying makes Lan Wangji's stomach flip. What would he say? Should he apologize for speaking harshly? No, he could never apologize to that flippant Wei Ying, who flouts his disregard for propriety like a badge of honor. Wei Ying, who pokes his nose into other people’s business, who sniffs out trouble like a dog digging for a bone. Wei Ying, who flutters his eyelashes and tosses out handsome smiles like casting a net over a flock of butterflies. Whose whims change as easily as the wind, first carrying him to Lan Wangji before whisking him off to someone else.

Lan Wangji quickly changes the subject by asking his brother if there has been any progress with the investigation. Lan Xichen lightly reproves his inquisitiveness, but seems to understand. The topic of Wei Ying is closed.

----

Since the Yunmemg Jiang sect's arrival at the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji has broken many rules. He has fought without permission. He has acted impulsively. He has even used a bad word to hurt others. Today he is dangerously close to breaking another rule, because when he spots Wei Ying in Caiyi Town, he instantly finds himself of two minds. Wei Ying flits about the stalls, handling knickknacks like an excited, greedy child. There is a pleasurable squeeze in Lan Wangji’s lower abdomen as he watches--the sensation of something missing sliding into place. He takes a step forward, then stops, shocked at himself. How dare he approach Wei Ying? Especially when his brother has sent him on an important task, no less. His grip tightens around the pouch of herbs in his hand--the object of his errand. No time for distractions. He should hurry back to the Cloud Recesses.

At that moment, Wei Ying stills. His posture is familiar to Lan Wangji--a barely perceptible tilt of the head, a slight stiffness in the neck. He’s thinking. Planning. Deciding what to do. His gaze slowly slips away from the trinket in his hand and gravitates in the direction of Lan Wangji. Mouth dry, Lan Wangji waits for those eyes to find him, to brighten with recognition.

'Wei Ying.' He thinks the name with all his strength, as if somehow Wei Ying will hear him.

But he must not, because Wei Ying suddenly turns away.

"Ugh, I'm hungry," he declares. "Li-xiong! Hey, Li-xiong. Feed me something good!"

Nie Huaisang and his cousin float into view, followed by a typically sour-faced Jiang Wanyin.

"Didn't you just eat?” Jiang Wanyin scolds. “How can you complain so much and waste other people's money?"

"I've been training a lot lately," Wei Ying whines. "Working so hard, I should be careful to eat more, right?"

Wei Ying nudges him impishly, then returns his attention to his new friend.

"Li-xiong agrees with me, right? That's why he'll take us somewhere good to eat."

He reaches out and starts to tug on "Li-xiong's" sleeve. Lan Wangji's jaw tightens. He watches as Nie Huaisang joins in on the disgraceful display, whining and tugging on his cousin. Laughing, the cousin relents.

"Fine, fine! But let's find a place to sit down and have a drink."

Wei Ying wags his finger. "Ehhh, Li-xiong, you rascal! I like your style."

'Shameless,' Lan Wangji thinks. 'Boring.' But his feet don't move, nor does the lump in his throat, nor Wei Ying's hand as it clutches the other boy’s sleeve. Wei Ying has touched Lan Wangji that way before. At the time, Lan Wangji had been surprised by the sudden warmth. Speechless, he merely glared until Wei Ying let go, wincing. But this boy is not glaring. He is smiling, laughing, as if Wei Ying's touch is nothing special. He and Wei Ying must touch each other frequently, Lan Wangji realizes, and the lump in his throat swells until it hurts to breathe.

‘It’s supposed to be me,’ he thinks, and the thought is so abrupt and so inappropriate that it steals his breath away.

"Hey," Jiang Wanyin says suddenly, and Lan Wangji realizes with a start that he's staring in his direction. "Isn't that Second Young Master Lan?"

By the time Wei Ying turns around to look--if he even bothers to, as distracted as he is by his new friend--Lan Wangji is already gone. And this time, Lan Wangji doesn’t expect Wei Ying to follow.

----

That night, Lan Wangji tells himself that he isn’t waiting for Wei Ying to come back. But when he hears the voices outside, he is suddenly and unequivocally enraged. Darkness has long since fallen, and the dormitories of the Cloud Recesses are still as the waters of the cold springs. Now four different whispers, snorting and slurring drunkenly, come to disturb its still surface--to disturb him. Rising, Lan Wangji storms from his room and to the courtyard. He derives more than a little satisfaction from the way they all seem to freeze.

"S-second Young Master Lan!" Nie Huaisang stammers. "Wh-what are you . . . We were just . . ."

“Drinking is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses.” Lan Wangji looks directly at Wei Ying. “You’ve broken the rules.”

Wei Ying lets out a little huff, rolls his eyes. Lan Wangji’s fists clench. Before either of them can say anything, Nie Huaisang interrupts.

“B-b-but Second Young Master Lan! We didn’t drink in the Cloud Recesses. We drank outside.”

“Wow, Nie Huisang!” Wei Ying claps him on the shoulder. His face is clearly impressed. “So even you can be crafty like this, huh?”

Nie Huaisang simpers cheekily behind his fan, and then the two start giggling and mooning over each other the way they always do, and Lan Wangji just can’t stand it.

“No going out at night in the Cloud Recesses,” he retorts, and the laughter withers. Wei Ying’s face suddenly brightens with realization.

“Ah, but Lan Zhan, we came back just now! When we went out, it was still light. As long as we’re just coming back in the dark, we shouldn’t be breaking any more rules, so it’s fine, right?”

Lan Wangji knows that this is not how the rule works, but he’s too furious for explanations. Wei Ying, meanwhile, actually has the audacity to look pleased with himself. Tossing his head, he glances back at the others, clearly gloating over his own cleverness.

"Besides," Wei Ying continues, "tomorrow is Li-xiong's last day in the Cloud Recesses. Can’t you just let it go?”

"Shameless," Lan Wangji practically growls, but he isn't sure what to say after that. Wei Ying just smiles.

"Aren't you the one who's being shameless right now?" he coos, and Lan Wangji's insides go cold. "You don't have to go so far as to pick a fight, Lan Zhan. If you missed me so much, just go ahead and say it."

But Lan Wangji can't say it, so he draws Bichen.

----

The punishment is particularly humiliating--not just because Lan Wangji has disappointed his uncle and brother, but because Wei Ying looks especially smug as the five of them are forced to kneel the next morning. Like he's proven a spectacularly intelligent point, or won a prize.

"See?" Wei Ying hisses at Jiang Wanyin. "I told you--"

Jiang Wanyin cuts him off with an elbow to the ribs.

Since Lan Wangji and Wei Ying are deemed doubly guilty as having both broken curfew and instigated acts of violence, they are charged with kneeling longer than the other three. Nie Huaisang and his cousin shoot Wei Ying a sympathetic look as they slink off. Wei Ying just puts on a brave smile and whispers, "Bye, Li-xiong! Remember to come visit me in Yunmeng!"

Lan Wangji's stomach curls. "No talking," he snaps before he can stop himself. Wei Ying gives him a sardonic look.

"Aren't you just breaking your own rule by talking?" he asks. Lan Wangji's face hardens, but he can't quite ignore the pleased little thrill in his chest.

Wei Ying is speaking to him again.

"Aren't you just being unnecessarily rebellious?" he retorts back, invigorated. Wei Ying blinks at this, then heaves a little laugh.

"You know what, Lan Zhan? You've been really argumentative ever since last night. Don't be so self-righteous. You'll have a hard time getting along with others."

"Unlike you, who gets along with others so well," Lan Wangji claps back, surprised by his own vitriol.

Wei Ying shrugs. "Most of the time. People with good taste get along with me, anyway. Oh, that reminds me!"

He reaches suddenly into his sleeve. Lan Wangji tries not to look, but his eyes are inevitably drawn as Wei Ying removes something, holding it out for Lan Wangji to see. A small, wooden bunny, crudely carved and even more crudely painted, sits in Wei Ying's palms.

"Ta-da!" Wei Ying declares. "Isn't it cute?"

"Mn," Lan Wangji answers, taken off guard. His ears burn as Wei Ying's smile widens.

"Right? I bought it when I went to Caiyi Town yesterday. Lan Zhan, you like rabbits, don't you?"

The sound of a throat clearing has both of them straightening their backs. Lan Qiren gives them a particularly scathing look as he passes by. Lan Wangji's ears burn even hotter with shame.

"Anyway," Wei Ying says, as soon as Lan Qiren has disappeared, "that's why I--"

"No talking," Lan Wangji mutters harshly.

Wei Ying heaves an exasperated sigh, but unexpectedly doesn't protest. Instead he leans over. With unnecessary flourish, he sets the figurine down directly in front of Lan Wangji's bent knees.

Lan Wangji would rather die than look down.

Wei Ying makes a face but says nothing. He settles back down reluctantly.

They pass the rest of the punishment in silence. Wei Ying pokes at pebbles, squirms, whistles and sighs. Lan Wangji stares straight ahead, until his eyeballs ache and he realizes he's forgotten to blink. The little white rabbit taunts him just outside of his periphery. Lan Wangji wonders what Wei Ying could possibly mean, teasing him this way. Is he trying to gloat? Why else would he show Lan Wangji a trinket that is obviously meant for someone else? Maybe it's for Jiang Yanli. She seems kind and gentle. Perhaps she has a soft spot for small, mischievous creatures. Or maybe it's for Jiang Wanyin, as part of some inside joke Lan Wangji isn't privy to.

Or maybe it's a parting gift for Nie Huaisang's cousin.

Lan Wangji spends the next few hours focusing on his breath.

When the time of their punishment finally concludes, Lan Xichen dismisses them. Wei Ying leaves first, but not before shooting Lan Wangji one last glance. Lan Xichen doesn't miss it, of course. His eyes, twinkling, trail after Wei Ying as he departs. Then he turns, gaze landing on the small wooden rabbit perched in the pebbles, just at the tip of Lan Wangji's boots.

"Is that yours, Wangji?" he asks, voice warm with amusement.

Lan Wangji bends to retrieve it. The rabbit is coarse in his hands, and unexpectedly light. The poorly painted eye sockets watch him haphazardly as it sits in his palm. He blinks back at it, as if startled that it hasn't yet hopped away. He thinks back to yesterday in Caiyi Town, remembers Wei Ying lazily browsing the vendors and stalls.

Wei Ying may be careless, but Lan Wangji knows he did not leave this rabbit behind by mistake.

Lan Wangji has to swallow back a smile.

"I am glad to see that you and young master Wei are getting along again," Lan Xichen comments. "It's good to see you happy and at ease."

'Am I happy?' Lan Wangji wonders, but the answer is clear. Even after having spent hours on his knees, pebbles and hard ground digging into his joints, he feels strangely relaxed. He is happy that Wei Ying is talking to him again, he realizes with sudden and absolute clarity. Happy that he didn't completely push Wei Ying away with too harsh words; happy that he has not been so easily forgotten. But he is not sure why this makes him happy, or what that happiness means.

Lan Wangji tucks the rabbit into his sleeve. There will be plenty of time to think things over while he monitors Wei Ying in the library tomorrow--provided Wei Ying is not too much of a distraction.

----

Wei Wuxian heads from the main pavilion directly to Jiang Cheng. He holds out a hand, palm up. "Time to pay up."

Jiang Cheng scowls. "This doesn't count. You deliberately provoked him first."

Wei Wuxian pretends to look scandalized. "It's not my fault he patrols the Cloud Recesses like a hawk! Besides, the rules of the bet never said anything about who provoked who, only who talked to who first. You saw it yourself; he was the one who approached me, fair and square. I told you he wanted to be my friend!"

Jiang Cheng digs out his coin purse reluctantly. "If he does, then you both deserve each other! The way you chase after him is ridiculous. It's gross just to watch!"

Wei Wuxian counts the coins happily. "Well Second Young Master Lan must like it, because he couldn't hold himself back. Haha, and to think you were so sure that I was the one who wouldn't be able to stay away!"

"He only approached you because we were breaking the rules," Jiang Cheng gripes. "If he hadn't caught you, he'd still be ignoring you."

Wei Wuxian's smile falters like a candle flame in the breeze. He recalls the sight of Lan Zhan's back--the smooth black hair, the white clad shoulders--retreating amongst the crowded street of Caiyi Town. He'd been so sure Lan Zhan would approach him that time.

If he hadn’t caught you, he’d still be ignoring you. Yeah; Jiang Cheng was probably right.

But whatever! So what if that fuddy duddy Second Jade of Lan looks down on him? Teasing Lan Zhan is one of the few fun things to do in the Cloud Recesses, an oasis in a desert of lectures and rule books and curfews. And that's all it is--just teasing. There isn’t any deeper meaning behind it. The bet had proven it, after all. Wei Ying could literally stop talking to Lan Zhan any time he wanted to, just like that. So what if it made the days longer, or left a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't seem to fill, no matter how many bowls of shijie's soup he stuffed himself with? All that matters is that it's over now. Wei Wuxian doesn't have to hold himself back like a caged cat, or bite back the words dancing on the tip of his tongue. Things can finally go back to normal.

Lost in his own thoughts, Wei Wuxian doesn't notice Yanli approach.

"Who's ignoring A-Xian?" she asks with a smile.

Wei Wuxian is suddenly overcome with a wave of shame. He pockets the coins hastily. "No one, no one," he lies. The last thing he wants is for Yanli to find out that he and Jiang Cheng have been placing bets on a person. She probably wouldn't think it was very kind, and he'd hate himself if he disappointed her. And now that he thinks about it, really thinks about it, she'd be right to be disappointed. Playing these kind of games with another person . . . Couldn't that potentially be hurtful?

Whatever, whatever! As if Lan Zhan would ever bring himself to care about anything Wei Wuxian does, as long as he's not violating the Lan sect rules.

"What's for dinner?" Wei Wuxian asks, and the three head back to their main quarters.

On the other side of the Cloud Recesses, Lan Wangji removes the rabbit from his sleeve, sets it on the table beside his guqin, and allows his face to soften.

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #mdzs #fanfic #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj #my stuff

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