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pseudowho · 7 months ago

Text

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

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Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months ago

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Yandere Animal Town (2) | Only Human

Part 1

You awake from your midday nap to the sounds of shouts from a man and a woman. Sounding like the latter is in distress you immediately run for your bat opening up the door facing the road. To find a billy goat man pulling a cow woman towards your doorstep; similar to their animal counterparts the man is short and wide sporting a dirtied tank top sleek with sweat. The female cow being pulled by tiny horns on her head is bent awkwardly wearing a revealing top with underwear and a jockstrap. Before you need to say anything the billy goat man is gruffing in your direction.

“Oh, so this is where the rumored human is. Well, aren’t you pretty?”

You don’t bother answering that. “What are you doing to here and what are you doing to her?”

Your question has him looking at the crying girl and spitefully pulling her closer as her knees buckle to the ground. All the while she’s crying and pleading incoherently. None of that seems to bother the goat man though as he spits in disgust.

“I’m showing this heifer ain’t nobody gonna want her! Dry as the Sahara this cow is she ain’t give make me any money for the food she eats.”

For emphasis he throws her to the ground, waiting for her to crawl back to him. When she opens her mouth to continue pleading he kicks the sandy dirt in her face. It makes you sick.

“I’ll take her.”

They both look up at you in surprise. The billy goat man belts out in laughter as a disgusting smirk spreads on his face.

“Oh, I see! Looking for another kind of milk, huh? Good luck with that!” He kicks at her again as he turns back to his truck. “Enjoy it Heifer you might actually be of worth for once.”

As he speeds off in his rickety, rusted truck she cries out making a desperate attempt to follow. Tripping over the dirt, barely a couple steps in; scraping her knees in her unconventional wardrobe. She crumples into herself crying with her hoarse voice, you let her go on for awhile before lifting her up and into the house.

You don’t know the ethics or the inner workings of farming when it comes to hybrids. Only barely catching the surface of the unregulated and often cruel practices that ensue because it’s a market for hybrids to be typically successful. With this in mind your careful to be gentle to not take it personally when she refuses to speak to you. You can’t imagine what she’s gone through.

“Here’s a towel and some soap and a washcloth. I ran a bath for you.”

“.....”

“I’ll come check on you in a bit. Take your time.”

She only wordlessly follows your commands with a sullen look on her face. Even when Titan comes around poking and prodding at the new face, she hardly reacts.

“Hey, you! What’s your problem, huh? Why aren’t you smiling, huh? Why are you wearing (Y/n)’s clothes? It’s not fair!”

“Hey Titan give her space she’s having a rough day!”

“Well when I’m sad I just go to you. Why can’t she do that?”

“Sometimes I just don’t make everybody happy, Titan. And that’s okay.”

“That’s stupid.”

“.....Waaaaaaaaa”

“Titan!”

“Sorry!”

After canceling your dinners with the neighbors for the week much to their displeasure you settle her into a bedroom close to yours. Just in case. It isn’t until the next morning that you wake to tears on your face. Sitting above you her bust taking up most of your vision is the cow woman silently crying as she pulls at her teats only for nothing to come out.

“I’m useless. I can’t even do this for you!”

You spend the day comforting the cow woman who’s drenching herself in endless tears. With lots of assurance that you ask for nothing from her and talk to her about her ‘job’ she finally opens up.

“...It’s Eudora.”

“Eudora…that’s a beautiful name.”

“It was what they called my mother before…he…took over. She never officially bequeath it to me…because she never got to retire.”

Lots of hugs and praise are what fills your days with Eudora. Breaking the unhealthy practices regarding eating and what she did throughout the day. Instead of letting her lay in bed and stew in her dark thoughts, you invite her to your picnics and follow after Titan as he explores the groves of your property. Without the fear of not producing milk or verbal abuse she finally starts to smile and actually taking your advice.

“You are a queen Eudora, just like the others at that farm.”

“Hahaha me? A queen?”

“Yes!”

“Is this some city thing you guys call people?”

“Kind of but the point is, is that you barely realize how gorgeous and desirable you are just because. It’s a way to remind you of that.”

“....Wow…that’s really sweet, (Y/n)....”

“Just being honest–”

“That’s not fair if she’s your queen I wanna be your king!”

“Titan, she’s not mine. She’s nobody’s but her own.”

“💜”

“Gross. Can I still be your king (Y/n)!?”

She really starts to settle in as your roommate, helping you with your growing list of chores. Learning alongside to cook with you as you entertain the neighbors that continue to visit so eagerly. Despite letting herself get pushed to the side when they come around she’s really come into herself. Taking the clothes you’ve given her and styling it into something that works for her. Spending time and your money into her appearance. And if that wasn’t great enough she woke up to a curious surprise.

“AAAAAhhhh!”

“W-what’s wrong!?”

“Milk spots!”

“What?”

“I’ve got milk spots! I’m leaking!”

Turns out all her body needed was a little TLC and it felt the need to lactate better than she’s ever had before. Days in the past spent blissfully walking through your fields are spent milling herself into whatever glasses you have. As it continues it gets worse better enough so that she eventually has to call on you to help. It’s a tad awkward for her to fling the maternity breast pump you bought for her as she demands you do it for her.

“E-eudora c’mon I’ve never done anything like this I’m not going to—”

“NO!! I NEED YOU TO DO THIS! Otherwise it’s going to take all day!”

So there goes an hour in the morning to help her release the gallons of milk her happy body produces. Constantly hearing the wanton moans of the cow woman you’re doing such a big favor. When you're finished, you have Tank frantically sniffing you both for some odd reason as he comments about the suspicious noises he was hearing.....from miles away. Eudora doesn’t bother clearing up the misunderstanding you just aren’t picking up on.

“So I believe you too were awfully loud this morning”

“Oh, you heard us, did you? Lucky dog, I’m sure you wish you were in my position.”

“Uhm I don’t know why Tank would want to do what you were doing.”

Tank is whining. “It doesn’t smell like what I think it was.”

“Ha just because you can’t smell it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Well if you’re smelling milk then that’s accurate. Eudora made way more than we can cook with so we’re going to take it to the market today.”

“oh…milk….The kind that comes from-?”

“Her? Yeah. What kind of milk could I be talking about?”

“Come on, (Y/n)! We’re going to lose daylight talking to him.”

“I–I–wanna come too!”

With all the publicity from the suddenly amazing milk from the odd human that’s recently moved in floats around. Of course, the sweaty gross billy goat is circling back to your place. Spitting and pointing when you finally come out to the enraged short man. The cow woman and the dog boys on your property at the time are all on guard.

“I want ‘em back! You cheated me you hairless skank!!!”

“You can’t have her if she doesn’t want to go!”

“Why you–”

“Grrrr!”

“Wait (Y/n)...I’ll handle this.”

She agrees to go with him. Kissing you on the cheek as she promises she’ll return by tonight. It feels like you’ve failed as she walks into the passenger seat with her now confident strut and proud smile in an outfit she feels comfortable in. It feels like you’ve lost that is until that rickety truck pulls up again in the dead of night. Tiffany staying up with you after attempting to put you to sleep and joining you as you run to see if your friend truly had returned.

“I’m back~!”

“Eudora!”

The hug is your victory and it’s also a little off center.

“Uh, heels?”

“A gift from the girls back home. Turns out the ownership of the farm was recently called into question and I’ve recently been included in a new business venture. An opening was recently made.”

“Does this mean you’ll be moving in back there?”

Eudora hates how eager Mama Tiffany sounds with her speeding tail.

Eudora delights in the wagging slowing down with her next words

“No, I just figure I’ll be contributing a bit more to the home. Is that alright (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I’m so proud of you Eudora!”

Mama Tiff is livid along with her sons as she watches the cow-woman move in with designer bags and start paying to reinforce the fence on your property starting with the flap Titan loves sneaking in through. From then on she too comes with you when you head into town, not afraid to pull down her designer pink glasses to verbally put down anyone still brave enough to talk down to you. But by now it isn’t all hateful talks, she’s still chasing off anyone with mildly too positive intentions.

“Look feline if you don’t back off now I might be convinced not to starve your family.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Ah, but I can. Would you like to see?”

She’s sure she doesn’t need the extra help from your puppy neighbors but she’ll take it. If only to keep her nails clean, she’ll stick to her own strengths. Happily pulling you behind your market stalls because she desperately needs to be milked. She only trusts you–her human to do such a thing. No one else in this town is worthy of squeezing the liquid magic she can create than you– her dear one and only human.

“Come (Y/n) I need you. You are my special human—the only human I trust to help me fuel my empire. You won’t refuse me, right?”

Part 3: Here

Taglist: @midnight-nightmares @xrenka @candlesworlds-blog @00hellohello00 @lem-hhn @kawaii-cakes

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dumblilb · 1 month ago

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I don’t wanna talk

Pitfighter!Vi x Bartender!Reader

(Synopsis: Vi’s been having a hard time recently. You decide to give her a little relief.)

(Cw : !SMUT MDNI!, lesbian sex, Sub!Vi, oral (both!r), thigh riding (vi!r), strap (vi!r), begging, mentions of alcohol, profanity, crying from overstim, a little angst but not really, kinda fluff)

(Requested: Yes)

(Wc : 2,8k)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚★。*

As her newly dark hair falls over her eyes all she could think about was how angry she was. It hadn’t even quite hit her yet why. Maybe it was her bruised knuckles, and the way they made her hands look so ruff against your skin. Or the fact that the lights were blinding her eyes. But as she looked up at you over the bar counter, she knew she had one thing to be surely mad at. You were gonna probably gonna send her home.

She held your forearm with a small bit of pressure. Putting the drink you were making for your final customer of the night on pause.

“Please. I need a drink. Just one.” Vi pleads. She looks tired. Her shoulders are slightly slouched and her eyes look sullen. You can’t help but sigh. This is the third night this week you’ve denied her service. Normally you can’t help but place down another beer for a drunkerd. A few extra dollars in your pocket from some rando isn’t the worst thing in the world. But when it’s your friend that’s when it gets complicated.

“Vi, I’m off in a minute. Just let me finish making this and you can come with me back to mine. Okay?” You smile softly. Her grip on your arm loosens and she looks at you for a second, debating her answer. Did she really want you to take her home and put her to bed. Her eyes flicker to the softness in your eyes. And the way your chest moved delicately up and down while you breathed. Actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea right now. Maybe she wasn’t that upset after all.

“Fine. Just-“ She breathes out heavy, hanging her head. “Don’t make me wait too long.” She lets up on your arm and walks over to the exit waiting for you. You can’t help but stare at her as you clean up and clock out. Her jacket is slung over her shoulder. The fabric molding to the sweat covered muscles of her back. Like an unruly child she scrapes her large leather boots across the floor back n forth. Almost in protest of you testing her level of patience.

You walk over to her and she gives you a slight tinge of a smile as she wraps her arm around your shoulders.

“You’re getting sweat on me.” You grimace. She just places a peck on your cheek with a stuck up grin.

“You love it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to give you that impression.” You roll your eyes. But the undeniable smile covering your face gives her the courage she needs for the night.

The walk home was quick since you live not too far. Which vi was pleased about. The second you unlocked the door she pulled you into your own home, leading you to your room.

“What the hell are you doing.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Nothing I just wanna talk.” She says sitting down on your bed. Discarding her boots and jacket to the floor.

“Talk?” You question. You’re used to her flirting. She’s done it her whole life. She’s never really not been a charmer. But ever since she started doing those pit fights and coming to find you at the bar afterwards, it’s been a little intense. She started coming as a way to see you. She’d buy a drink. Chat you up. Get turned down. And she’d buy another. You could tell she was just sad and lonely. So you didn’t really give the idea of it the time of day. But as the drinking became more intense you got worried. She only seemed to become more upset the more times you sent her on her way. Beer in hand. You’d started to think you definitely fucked up. And she wasn’t joking around.

“Can’t remember the last time we talked about anything other than how bad you want me.” You tease, trying to keep the energy light. Maybe just this once. You’d try and see how this goes.

“You know I’ve had a really shitty day. Lost my match. And the only thing that’s made me feel better is the sight of you. You seem to have that effect on me recently.” She states as you sit down next to her. She leans to rest her head down softly on your shoulder. You don’t quite know how to react to what she’s just said. Her breath is hitting your skin sending a shiver down your back. You go to rest your hand to her cheek bringing her to face you, but she pulls back almost like a flinch. You ease her in closer.

“I don’t think I wanna talk right now.” You whisper, leaning in slightly to close the gap. She almost gasps at the contact but finds composure and melts into the kiss. All she could think about for weeks was how you would feel against her. If your lips were soft or if your eyelashes would flutter against her cheeks. But nothing could have prepared her for how heavenly you would feel.

The softness of your lips had her entranced as she pulled you in for more. Leaning into you making you fall back on your arms, deeper into your bed. She parts for a second, taking in your face. The way your eyes dart from hers to her lips. The way they your lips stay open slightly. Like they’re inviting her back in. You take the chance and kiss her again. Guiding her body up into a sitting position. Practically straddling your hips. You place a hand to her chest, feeling up to her neck. You could feel her heart racing under your touch. Deep breaths wracked her body as you fiddled with the wraps around her torso.

“Can I?” You question and she continues to kiss you, moving down your neck.

“Please.” She exhales and you start removing them. Much too slow for her taste. She’s antsy, nipping at your skin as you work. You finally get it off and take a second to admire her. She beautiful. Her skin is pale but it glimmers with sweat as she pants. You run your fingers over her chest, caressing her softly making her look at you nervously. What if you didn’t like them. What if-

“God you’re fucking perfect.” You exclaim quietly, placing soft kisses upon them. Her head falls back as you enclose on of them in your mouth. Putting your tongue to work, rolling over her nipple gently with your other hand.

Her hand grips your thigh tightly as a way to cope with the new sensation. She runs her other over your head till you pull back. She looks at you slightly confused till you begin removing your top, making her eyes go wide. The black bra still covering your chest doesn’t keep her from gawking. She slides off your lap for a second, hastily removing her own black jeans leaving her in just a pair of boxers in front of you. Her happy trail on display. Scooting forward you grab her hand placing it on your own pants. Giving her permission to remove them.

She bends down in front of you, sliding them over your hips and down your legs. Running her fingers up your thighs she starts to spread them apart, but you urge her back onto your lap.

“You said you had a bad day? Let me make you feel good.” You breathe into her ear, teasing her boxers off with your fingertips. Which she is now eagerly ripping off. Placing her, now noticeably wet, core down on one of your thighs. You grip her hips with a bit of force. Guiding them in a back in forth motion. She lets out a soft grunt as she slowly picks up the pace. Resting her head in the crook of your neck, she sloppily places small pecks to your collar bone. Her hands gripping your waist to keep steady.

Each motion she made caused a moan to leave her lips. They started quiet but as her legs became shaky you’d remind her how good she was doing. You rock your leg up into her, making the whining become louder. Her voice barely sounding legible between gasps, as she pleads with you.

“Fuck! I- I can’t…” She lets out, whipping her head back. You just smile at her softly. You roll over onto the bed, bringing her under you. Her hair falling back out of her face, leaving you with her wide eyed expression. She’s confused as to why you stopped her from finishing, till you get down on your knees beside the bed. Pulling her legs towards you and resting them on your shoulders. Her toned thighs clenched around you in anticipation as you leave little kisses to the area.

She’s starts to get needy, grinding her hips upward towards your lips when you grip her tightly. Looking up at her flushed face. Any makeup she was wearing earlier was fully smudged off and beads of sweat dripped down her abs as her deep breaths made each one flex just a little. It makes your brain spin a little as she looks at you with softness. Eyes pleading with you. Practically begging for relief.

“Please-“ She starts to say when you run your tongue through her folds. Her whole body melts into the bed. Each dip into her making her squirm as you work your way to her clit. Tonguing it with swift motion. Loud grunts leave her lips as she grips your head trying to push you in closer. She wants more. Which is fine. You have much more to give.

Coming up for air you slightly knock her hand out of the way. You begin holding her hips up with nothing but your own strength. Her legs fully over your shoulders. She tries to help by holding herself up with her forearms. But as you begin sucking on the sensitive area she gives up. An echoing moan leaves her as her core starts to tense up. Gripping your sheets tightly, she holds her eyes closed. Almost embarrassed to face you like this. Weak and to your will.

Her hips start to twitch. And before you could even prepare she’s a mess under you. Her release covering your mouth. She lays there panting for a minute while you gently set her down. Leaving wet kisses up her body, till you’re lying against her. Bringing her lips you yours, letting her taste herself. She holds you tight as if scared you would leave. Bitting slightly at your lips. Just enough to claim her stake. Her hand falls to your underwear line and she starts to inch closer to your core. You couldn’t help but peek to see the way her tattoos flowed with her muscles at each movement.

Moving your hips forward you allow her to start softly running her fingers through your folds. A small murmur of pleasure creeps out making her smile into the kiss. Applying light pressure she moves in circular motions, moving her kisses down your neck. Nipping at it slightly. The louder you get the faster she goes. The restriction of your panties upsets her so she takes a pause to slide them off and gets right back to it.

You place your hand on hers and guide it down to your entrance. She understands quickly and moves to be more on top of you. Holding one of your thighs down slightly with her leg. Holding herself up with one of her arms, her other glides its first finger into your core gently. She hesitates for a moment before you impatiently buck your hips, letting her know it’s okay to start moving.

She starts gingerly. Nervous almost. But as you whisper words of encouragement under your breath she starts to pick up the pace. Each thrust making you squirm under her. As her speed increases you bring one of your own hands down to massage your clit. The feeling of another finger entering makes a warmth start building in your stomach. Vi grunts as she continues. Her eyes not leaving you. The way your chest moves at her motions could make her drool. She starts to curl her fingers upward inside you and your pace becomes faster. But it’s sloppy, and a lack of composure becomes apparent.

“Fuck! Vi don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.” You say stern, even in your current state. Your legs start to shake under her and with a last pump the feeling in your stomach releases making your whole body tense against her. She slowly starts to remove her fingers, placing them in her mouth to lick them clean. Under heavy lids you look at her with a smirk. She liked the way you tasted. You could see it on her face. She was pussy drunk.

Sitting up you move to reach under the bed. Grabbing what you need from the box you kept there. She looks at you curious till you bring it into her view. The hot pink strap, now sitting on your lap, makes her eyes go wide.

“Do you want me too..” She starts but as you get up and start to tighten it around your hips, she understands. “Oh!”

“Is this okay?” You check walking towards her position at the edge of the bed. She nods her head rapidly making you chuckle a bit. Pink dusting over her cheeks as you stand between her legs. Cupping her face you rub your thumb across her tattoo, taking in the way she looks. Even in the dark her powder blue eyes sparkle. Her hair can’t help fall slightly in the way of her view. Which in this moment is not something she’s fond of. She wants to see you.

Leaning down, you delicately leave a kiss to her forehead. Grabbing her hand in the process. You pull her up to stand in front of you.

“Turn around.” You muse and she looks at you a little confused, following instructions anyways. The sight of her tattoo covering her back makes you take a deep breath. God she’s so fucking hot. You rub your hands down her back, tracing each line of ink. She shivers slightly under your touch reminding you of what you were doing in the first place. Bending her over, she places her knees and hands down onto the bed and braces herself. Climbing up to bring your pelvis to her ass, you position yourself.

Caressing her hips softly you question “ready?” And you see her nod.

Pushing the tip of the strap in slowly you let her get accustomed to the feeling. A audible moan leaves her and you place a kiss to her back. Finding yourself a rhythm you begin thrusting into her. Slow at first, not to scare her. But then she started begging for it.

“Please! Faster.” She groaned, spreading her legs a bit wider. Which allowed for you to go deeper. Your thighs hitting her ass making as slapping noise echo in the room. But it was hard to hear over the loud whines that escapes her mouth. She can’t help but curse your name as you apply some pressure to her back, making her arch deeper. Holding her hips tightly to secure the motion. Her arms give out and her torso becomes flesh with the sheets. Arms up above her head. She turns slightly back to look at you. Reaching under you start to rub her off while continuing to slam into her.

“Holy shit!” She exclaims trying to hide her face behind her arm, but you stop her.

“Pretty girl, I need you to look at me.” You smile and she moves her arm. Small tears gather in her eyes from the overstimulation on her pussy. You get concerned for a second but when her legs start to twitch a little she practically begs for you to go harder. It only takes a few more pumps before her legs give out and you can feel warmth covering your hand. Easing out of her, you pull out and remove the strap from your hips.

She lays there, body sprawled out across your bed. Her eyes are closed but she has a grin adorning her face. A slight flush on her skin apparent. Quickly placing a kiss to her shoulder, you get up to grab a damp towel. Coming back to sit next to her.

“Come here.” You bring her closer to begin wiping her down. Cleaning her off. She looks up at you with a grin. She puts a hand to your cheek, pulling your lips down to hers. The kiss is gentle and needy. She just wants to feel you. Resting her forehead to yours she sighs.

“You okay?” You question, caressing her arm softly.

“My day just got a whole lot better.”

#lesbian #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #pit fighter vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x reader angst #vi x reader fluff #vi x reader smut #vi smut

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delirious-donna · 8 months ago

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tw: NSFW, talk about body hair, suggestive

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised, it made perfect sense when you really thought about it. Yet, it still came as a shock the first time you saw Kakashi naked, and the happy trail that snaked below his belly button down to the thicker thatch of coarse but neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock was as equally silver as the hair on his head.

“Uhh… is everything okay?” Kakashi stammered, rubbing at the back of his neck with that slightly concerned smile of his.

His voice broke your reverie, heat bloomed across your skin at how openly you had been staring at his body without speaking. The kisses you had been sharing paused whilst your brain tried to process something that shouldn’t have interrupted you so badly. The twitch of his cock made you jump, nervous laughter rumbling in the chest you were leaning against.

“S-sorry. I just wasn’t expecting… didn’t think you’d be—uhm.”

A calloused finger and thumb captured your chin, lifting your gaze from his impressive abdominals and the girth of his dick that continued to bob under your inspective stare. Kakashi’s other hand found yours and slowly moved it to the heat of his skin, the velvet softness was pleasant against your palm, fingers curling around him to stroke leisurely.

Kakashi moaned. His charcoal eyes slowly sliding shut whilst you explored the newness of this whole situation. Your fingertips traced the veins that stood proudly against his shaft, the pad of your thumb messily playing with the sticky beads of precum that escaped his slit. “Didn’t think what?”

His voice was strained, thick with desire and it made you cuddle in closer to his form. With your clothes still on and his scattered across the bed, this felt naughty in a way you had never experienced. Your thighs clenched together, the feel of your clothing rubbing at your skin had you wishing to rip at them, or more so that he would.

“Didn’t think your hair down here would be… would be the same colour,” you admitted bashfully, met by a bark of laughter that had you huffing and pouting.

Without warning, Kakashi grasped at your hips and rolled you on top of him. Your hands shot up and out to brace palms at either side of his face, a face that was alight with humour and mischief. Those pretty eyes twinkling with mirth at your admission.

A palm pressed between your shoulder blades to bring you closer to him, warm lips kissing away your sullen little pout with ease. You could feel his cock sandwiched between your bodies, his hips moving so he was thrusting softly against your clothed stomach.

“Here I thought you were going to compliment my size…”

“Kakashi!”

“A guy can dream,” he chuckled quietly, nipping playfully at your bottom lip. “For the record, what colour did you expect my body hair to be?”

It was a question you didn’t know how to answer, because honestly, what had you expected? Your face warmed even more, failing to meet his eye once again.

“Silly girl…” he teased when you didn’t reply. “I think it’s high time I become familiar with what colour you are down there, don’t you?”

#delirious writes #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake smut #kakashi fluff

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scirelistener · 2 months ago

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POMEGRANATES

idia shroud x gn! reader

sypnosis : hades had persephone, idia has you.

It felt a tad bit ironic, if you were being honest. Staring at the carmine shine of the pomegranates given as a welcoming snack by the housewarden of Ignihyde, you couldn’t help but think of the tales of a certain King of the Underworld.

Though the sources varied on the reason why Persephone ended up in the Underworld (some daring to say Persephone was willing to go and was not abducted), it was ultimately this fruit, the pomegranate, that made her return to the dark and gloomy realm of Hades. While the Earth above froze with Demeter’s wrath, the king would reunit with his queen for a short period of 6 months.

Playing with the pomegranate seed, you wondered if Idia, himself, knew the irony of serving these. He who was leader to the very dormitory based on the King of the Underworld.

“.. The pomegranate isn’t laced with poison, y’know.” Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt as you turned to see Idia staring at you with what seemed to be puzzlement in his gaze. “Your HP is gonna be fine.”

You plopped the seed into your mouth before laying yourself down onto his bed, the softness of his blankets swallowing you whole. “I was just thinking how ironic it was that you’re serving me pomegranates.”

Idia stared at you for another moment, this time in bewilderment before realizing the myth that you were correlating the pomegranates with and turning away with a scoff. “That myth? The pomegranates in the tales are special. The ones I gave you are completely normal.” He said begrudgingly.

Noticing the tone, you flipped over to your stomach. Whilst silently admiring his fiery hair which glowed a serene blue with further help from his computer screen, you asked tentatively, “How do you feel about the tales?”

You internally winced as you watched as his fingers come to a halt as so did the clicking sounds of his keyboard and mouse. You were about to dismiss the question when the housewarden answered with a tone which you could not decipher.

“I wouldn’t go so far like he did. It’s similar to imprisonment, no? For the Queen, it must’ve felt like a player being tied to a checkpoint.” His tone resembled resentment. The glow of the computer screen gave notice to his face which scrunched up in a manner that screamed annoyance.

Then a sigh left from his lips before his fingers started clicking on his keyboard again. “But there’s no point of having my opinion on the tale. Doesn’t change the fact that the family’s still stuck with the damn curse.” Idia continued to game, this time with an expression that seemed more sullen than usual.

Sensing a change in his mood, you frowned at yourself for asking that question before your eyes trailed back to the pomegranate. As you reached for more, your mouth moved on its on,

“I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you.”

The words slipped out of your mouth too naturally for your own good. With a realization that slammed into your brain like a hammer of immense power, the pomegranate seeds slipped out of your fingers and your hand went loose; your eyes widened and your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment.

Dread plunged into your mind and painted your head white as you awaited for the housewarden’s reaction.

“…Huh?” Idia’s voice cracked in the middle of his outburst. You carefully turned your head towards him just to see the tip of his fiery hair burning a delicate shad of pink. The housewarden had a hand covering half his face while the other clutched onto his chest, his slender fingers wrinkling that iconic hoodie of his.

“I-, I meant-”

“You can’t just s-say something like that!” Idia stammered, his fingers crawling up to grip on his hair like his life depended on it. You internally winced at how tightly he was gripping it and was about to say something when he started blabbering, “What, you think you’re some sort of main character of an otome game!? Just because I feel the same, doesn’t mean you get to say those things out loud! You won’t gain any extra relationship levels with me just by saying that; all you’re giving me is a heart attack! I swear-”

As you were about to blubber out another apology in hopes of easing the poor guy’s ramble, you froze when you heard his words that indicated reciprocation.

"Wait. What do you mean you feel the same?"

“-Plus you wouldn’t even- huh?” Idia froze just like you did, eyes now back on you. Visible confusion spread over his face before his cheeks lit up a dark red. The pink that was only present near the tip of his hair now slowly unfurled into the never ending bluish fire.

Idia backed up against the chair, his body impossibly close to the backrest, as you stood up and slowly walked over to him with a giddy smile along with a blush that was a bit milder than is but still present.

Idia barely managed to muffle down his anxiety as you stopped right in front of him before leaning down.

“Idia, say that again? Please?”

How could he refuse you? You who looked down at him with eyes shining with expectation and joy of him mistakenly blabbering out his desires.

Though his hand ultimately crawled up his face once more to cover his red face, his words were head clearly.

“I-I wouldn’t mind being with you either.”

He hoped you didn’t notice how he took out a word in that sentence and how it might’ve possibly changed the meaning.

a/n : sorry for very shitty fic, i’ve been too idia-invested! also does anyone know epic the musical and has anyone listened to the vengeance saga cause sheeeeeesh the showdown between odysseus and poseidon had me shivering in my boots!!

and of course, please help those in needs by checking out the donation links on the master list post!

#twisted wonderland #twst #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x gn reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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2kiran · 4 months ago

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❛ 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄 ❜ ➖ ch1.

series masterlist | ghostface x reader | nsfw

syno. ◜˚꩜.ᐟ —— IN WHICH HALLOWEEN is in a few hours, the day that gathers mischievous children and adults alike. They’re all stupidly uncaring of the terrors that await them outside. Maybe it’s a good thing you weren’t invited to the equally stupid party; the bitterness is slipping from your mind—until the phone rings.

content: male!ghostface, male reader, stalking, he touches himself over his clothes, use of he and they pronouns for ghostface, 800+ words, canon timeline genre: dark | v.ao3

October 30th, 11:42 P.M.

Viridescent chlorophyll pigmented leaves rustle aimlessly from the zephyr, manifesting solace amidst the looming witching hour. The perpetual snicking of the timepiece compensated for the lack of engaging noise of your residence, one that is adjudged to be prone to jeopardy. You presumed you’d be drinking away your misfortunes along with your ‘friends’ by now, fulfilling the engraved void of your body with a sense of halcyon.

Alas, you neither inherited the glory of bosom friends nor a staunch invitation. You’re compelled to isolation, idly switching from channel to channel on the television. Majority of programs transmitted great terrors and deaths occurring around your town, doubtlessly emitting dread from your neighbors. One snatches your surveillance in particular, the news anchor no other than Gale Weathers.

“Woodsboro, California was devastated last night when two young teenagers were found brutally murdered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement but our sources tell us—”

Your telephone begins to ring.

Short-sightedly, a twinge of assumption that your friends are calling to address their regret engulfs you in a disposition of sprint. You hasten to answer, stumbling over items scattered across the ground. With palpitating hands, you manage to grab the cordless communicator.

“Hello?”

A saccharine yet mechanical voice lacerated the echoes of silence. “Hello?”

You detect a billow of unfamiliarity, the silk-smooth tone unregistered. You lay your weight against the counter behind you, planting your free hand on the top. “Who’s this?” You interrogate without close scrutiny, tasting displeasure on your tongue from the thought of the other one on the line being a childish prankster.

“What number is this?” The stranger questions in return, downright shrugging off yours. There’s a subtle ascent in timbre, as though they were exhilarated by the odd conversation. Sounding virtually like they were arranging a scheme with you as the heart-rending target. However, you knew better than to generate bland speculations, didn’t you?

This did not mean you possessed the generosity of extending your patience for a mere individual whom you’ll most-likely never meet. Your brows crease, lips twisting downwards into a sullen frown. Glancing towards the clock, it currently read 12:26. You’ve already misused your valuable time. Great, your week’s ending with several scowls. With an aggravated sigh, you decide on a conclusion which is probably the smartest one—or rather the stupidest, but you don’t know that just yet—you’ve made for the past few days. “You have the wrong number.”

You return the handset to the device. You’re able to take only a couple of steps before it rings again.

This day is truly testing your patience. You snatch it, still having the decency to attempt upholding the tender exterior. “Hello?” You repeat, your jaw twitching with intelligible strain.

“I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number.”

You scoff lightly, not daring to feign anything else besides mild amusement. Frustration began to simmer beneath your skin, fluttering a stream through your veins. “Why’d you dial it again, then?”

“To apologize.”

That one promptly eased the seethe waiting to plunge straight out of your chest. At least this person sustained a quarter of a functioning brain, unlike those you’re unfortunately acquainted with. “You’re forgiv—” You begin, subconsciously lowering the object once more, but they abruptly interject while they’re still within earshot. “Wait, wait. Don’t hang up.” The words were exhaled through a tight breath. They were shamelessly pleading.

“Why?”

“I wanna talk to you for a second.”

You husk out a laugh, dropping your head as your shoulders tremble upwards. Oh good deity above, you’re awfully oblivious to how attractive your appearance is. Ghostface squeezes his thighs shut together, rocking forward to soothe the irritating ache. He’s ridiculously camouflaging behind an ancestral, greening tree. His eyes steadfastly rake over the valleys and dips of your body, your clothes endowed with the ampleness of tease to let his imagination maunder. Finally, he hears your sweet, sweet melody.

“You’ve got a hundred of numbers for that.”

So he’s been well-informed. “Oh, I know,” His gloved palm mindlessly cascade down to his groin, gently rutting to pursue the chase for friction he’s been pining for all these dull, prolong hours. “But I want you.”

They’re flirting with you. Out of every-color-draining people. It’s surreal; the sensation of heat skulking to your face, the pinkish, vibrant hue dusting your cheeks, and the bare bite of adrenaline caused interest to emerge and sweep you right off your rationality. “Right...” you find it skeptical, rightfully so, and yet you’re incapacitated of hanging up this time. “Uh, I’m going to watch a video.” Your nose scrunches from how you spoke the sentence, and in return he hums a low, distorted tune.

“Really? What?” You really weren’t.

“A... just some scary movie.”

“Do you like scary movies?” It must be sleep-deprivation but you cross your soul he sounds sinister. Uncanny and phantom-like but concomitantly mortal.

“Sure.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

2knote. unfortunately, I’ve been terribly busy so I didn’t have the chance to completely write this chapter out. 1.1 (continuation) will be posted in a few days.

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the-assassin-of-mercy-if · 6 months ago

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Why you were selected, you could only guess. What the sisters saw in you you’ll never know, but they saw something.

Perhaps, it was your sullen disposition, or your observant eyes. Regardless of that reason, whatever it may be, from a young age you began training to become a child of mercy.

An Assassin.

The Assassin of Mercy is an interactive, 18+, romantic thriller novel by Lane. S. Snow. It is entirely text based, without graphics or sound effects, and fuelled by the power of your own imagination.

Face the world on your own for the first time as a hired assassin. After years of training, you have received your first contract, to kill the usurper king. Make your way across the continent towards the capital with unconventional companions, build relationships, battle foes and even find love while trying to accomplish your mission. Will you fulfil the terms of your contract or fall short in your paid search for justice?

Why were you chosen to be an assassin? Why did you succeed in your training while others failed? Is this all you are destined for?

Will the questions that keep you up at night be answered on your journey?

. Play as male, female, nonbinary or trans – with options to be gay, straight, bi or asexual.

. Develop relationships with 5 potential love interests.

. Choose your signature style of killing – sword, dagger, strength, bow and arrow or poison.

. Influence the world around you and beyond with your choices.

. Experience how your personality, skills and relationships affect the outcome of your mission.

. Discover the political and personal reasons that lead to the previous King’s death, and the subsequent usurping of his heir.

. Fight, lie, manipulate, spy and most importantly kill your way towards success.

. Fall in love, forge friendships, and fulfil your contract on a mission you’ve spent years training for!

Love Lane, x.

(The Assassin of Mercy is rated 18+ for explicit language, explicit sexual themes, drug and alcohol abuse, violence, morally questionable behaviour and more.)

#choice script #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #choice of games #hosted games #dashingdon #interact if #wip

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 1 year ago

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Coraline

Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.

tagged: @treehouse-mouse

2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.

Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.

This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.

Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.

With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.

Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.

You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.

“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”

“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”

The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”

You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.

“Sorry?”

There’s no way

“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.

You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.

Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.

Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.

Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.

“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.

“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”

Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.

The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.

You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.

It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.

“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”

You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.

From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.

You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.

They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.

All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.

When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.

Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.

There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.

So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.

Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”

You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.

Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.

You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”

Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.

The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.

You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.

You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.

You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.

“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.

“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.

“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.

“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.

“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.

Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.

You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.

You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.

They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.

Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.

You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.

They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?

You think you deserve to be here?

They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you

You are nothing compared to the other drivers

You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team

You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.

You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.

You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.

Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.

You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.

The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.

You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.

Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.

It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.

You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.

The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.

You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.

This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.

You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.

It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.

The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.

The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.

They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.

They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.

So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.

Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.

Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.

You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.

You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.

And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.

After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.

It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.

You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.

“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”

“Will you have a seat next year?

“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”

“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”

You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.

Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.

You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.

Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.

You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.

“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you

“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.

“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.

“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.

“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”

You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.

“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.

“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”

Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.

You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.

You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.

“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.

“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.

“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.

Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.

The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.

“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete jerk, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.

Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.

“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.

So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.

“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah, not entirely, but better”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”

“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”

“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.

“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.

“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.

“You promise?”

Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.

“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.

“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”

“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.

When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.

Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.

These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.

The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.

The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #female driver reader #comfort fic #angst with a happy ending #angst #please look at trigger warning before you read #lewis hamilton #charles lecrelc #platonic lewis hamilton #platonic charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

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ficcerspam · 6 months ago

Text

Tim has noticed something odd, about the Demon Brat.

Sometimes, the Demon Brat would look to his left, as if to start a conversation, or as if anticipating someone saying something, only to freeze. Just for a moment, a half second, because nobody was there, before looking away with painful expression.

Months later, Tim decided to stand there, just to see what would happen. The brat didn’t look at him once, and Tim found that curious, and odd.

Another odd thing about his new, murderous brother, is that he refuses to look into the mirror. That’s not true, exactly: he would look in the mirror for basics, for necessities.

Tim realized, months of observations later, that the brat didn’t look himself in the eyes.

Strange.

Tim had asked him, once, why he didn’t. As expected, all he got was a “It’s none of your business Drake.”

But that didn’t stop Tim from wondering. Tim is, if nothing else, curious to a fault and persistent to an illegal degree.

And so the strangeness would continue, and Tim would wonder.

The brat would look to his left, pause, and then look away. He would deftly avoid mirrors, and when asked why he would sneer and avoid those questions, too.

Until he didn’t.

Until he came back to the Cave battered and beaten, some dreary autumn day, the Demon Brat unusually sullen and quiet and off his game. He had sat through the lecture Bruce had given him, and sat through the quiet reaching out from Dick, and sat through the cajoling teasing meant to rile him up, to get him to say or do anything per the norm, with an unusual aplomb.

The brat apologized, said he was fine, and ignored the rest. He told Bruce he wouldn’t patrol tomorrow, and would stay home from school, because clearly he wasn’t feeling well.

It was like Damian wasn’t there, fully.

So when Tim saw that the brat’s door was open, the next day, he peeked in.

Of course he did.

And there the brat was, sitting in front of the full length mirror he usually had covered with a cloth when it wasn’t in use, reaching up and staring directly into his own reflection’s eyes.

“Demon Brat?” Tim asked, stepping in and concerned about the look in the other’s face. There was no answer.

“Damian. What’s wrong.” Tim stood behind the boy, watching as Damian touched the corner of his own reflection’s eye.

“The color’s wrong, Drake.” Damian finally said, matter of fact and almost broken, absent-minded.

“What?” Tim asked, trying to see what he was talking about. Nothing was wrong, nothing was changed. Damian met his eyes through the mirror for a long moment, but Tim didn’t understand.

“The color.” Damian reiterated, looking at his own reflection again.

“The color? Of what?” Tim and Damian were never close, not really, but he was starting to feel like something was slipping away, in this moment. Damian dropped his hand, and finally looked away.

Without answering, the boy got up and carefully draped a cloth over the mirror, ushering Tim out of his room silent as the dead.

“Leave me be for today, Drake.” Tim reached, opened his mouth to try and say something, because something was wrong, but what?

But Damian simply shut the door softly.

The sound of the lock engaging felt strangely, and utterly, final in a Manor full of lockpicking detectives.

Tim laid a hand on the door, and mourned.

#demon twins au #that last scene grabbed me in a chokehold and demanded i let it out of my brain #so here i am #danny was meant to be a shadow and therefore damian was trained not to tell anybody about him #i imagine danny died just before damian was taken to the manor #this is about a year after damian comes to the manor and therefore a year after danny has died #whether danny is actually dead or not is up to you #i havent thought about him beyond being separated from damian and damian thinking hes dead #adoptable please take it away from me #angst #ficspam #dcxdp

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lqfiles · 6 months ago

Text

PAY THE PRICE — 29. a moment of vulnerability

(wc: 2.281)

much to your surprise, haechan’s door was already left unlocked by the time you reached it. your hand halted at the immediate unlock of it, and you hesitantly moved it open afterwards, your confusion growing more prominent with each step inside. it wasn’t typical for haechan to leave his door unlocked, especially at night from the experiences you’ve had with him.

as you entered further into the apartment, an unusual sense of eerie and a strange stillness hit you. a muddle expression formed on your face, and you looked around the dark living room, a feeling of familiarity following as you did so. your first thought was to look at the spot you remembered haechan to be seated at last time you had visited him during the night hours.

“haechan?” you didn’t expect the tone of your voice to be so soft as you called out his name. haechan, who was sat on the couch instead of the floor, didn’t acknowledge your words, letting them echo into the void. “i know you have my stuff, asshole.” you lightly complained, attempting to stir a reaction out of him who had yet to look up.

he remained strangely silent, barely moving. you took more careful steps into the place, slowly making your way towards the middle of the room where he was. standing next to the couch, you contemplated on what exactly to do. “are you asleep?” you whispered carefully, somewhat worried that you’d wake him up. you’ve never seen haechan this silent, let alone this motionless.

haechan shook his head, breaking the motionless trance he was in. his hands were still crossed over one another and his head was still looking down at his lap. “are you.. you okay?” the question felt foreign as it left the tip of your tongue. it remained in the air and was left unanswered for approximately 10 seconds. you didn’t expect haechan to talk, but he did. “i don’t know.. maybe.” his voice croaked. you don’t think you’ve ever heard such a sound come from haechan.

you expected him to dismiss it, and now you were put in an awkward position. were you the right person to ask him to elaborate? you’re relationship with him wasn’t that strong, let alone anything friendly in your eyes. still, you had already intruded his place without his consent, maybe the least you owed him was an ear to listen. “wanna talk about it?” you sighed out with reluctance.

haechan’s sigh followed soon after as he finally looked up, making eye content with you. the first thing you took notice of was the tired look in his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t been sleeping for the past few days. before you could analyse his face any further, he spoke. “i just got a lot on my mind.” he started, fiddling with his fingers.

“about what?” you reluctantly asked again. realistically, you’re not sure if you cared or wanted to know the answer. but based of his body language alone, you could tell something was bothering him, and call yourself foolish, but if there was anything bigger than your foolishness, it was your sense of empathy.

“life? i’ve just been very.. what’s the right word.. lost?” haechan continued. you eyed the empty spot next to him, contemplating the decision on whether or not to take the seat. you obliged, if you were to stick around for a story time, you at least deserve to actually sit through it. you sat down and nodded for haechan to continue. “what about life?”

“i’m just.. I don’t know, i’ve just been wondering where i’m heading to with life.” he confessed, and the answer took you by surprise. “why’s that?” you questioned, growing intrigued. haechan pondered for a moment, his hands now limp on his lap. “it’s stupid.. i think seeing jaehyun do well in life just has me questioning my own course in life, i guess i feel somewhat discouraged?” haechan admitted and the mention of jaehyun piqued your interest, though you tried to not show it.

“i don’t get it, do you want to be like jaehyun?” you asked in confusion. your conclusion behind haechan’s sullen mood seemed to bother him. he shook his head with a soft groan. “no, i don’t want to be like him, but i also do. its not that i want to have the fame jaehyun has or be known as an outstanding singer.. it’s more like.. i want to stand out too.” haechan explained, gnawing his lips.

“why do you think you don’t stand out?” you inquired with your head tilted in confusion. haechan glanced your way before shutting his eyes softly, re-opening them shortly after. “well, now i stand out yeah, but i don’t like the way i stand out, it’s not me.” haechan groaned in exasperation, yet you remained confused.

“i don’t get it, what’s the issue?” you questioned once more, growing more intrigued by his complaints.

“of course you don’t get it, because you don’t know me (—). you probably think you do, but you don’t.” haechan deeply sighed, it seemed like he was really tired, whether it be in general or because of your continuing questions. you remained silent, not sure how to respond back to his words. haechan took the silence as an opportunity to continue.

“i’ll let you know a bit about me then. did you know that the only reason why i’m even attached to my guitar is because i believe it’s the only reason people show interest in me?” haechan stared ahead of him, arms loosely crossed. “i do know what it’s like to not stand out because i had always remained as the one everyone would choose second because i had nothing to offer. does that make sense to you?” with a slight twist, haechan shot you a quick glance before turning his gaze back to it previous focus.

“its funny because i thought, maybe, if i pick up on a trait such as learning the guitar, people would take more interest in me and i’d get their validation. which worked in my benefit, surprisingly. who knew everyone could be so into the rockstar boyfriend fantasy?” he chuckled almost bitterly. you slightly gaped at the confession, too stunned to form a proper reaction.

“its why i liked to be called haechan, and why no one aside from yangyang jaehyun and renjun get to call me by my real name, because they don’t actually care about the real me. they like haechan.” haechan’s arms unwrapped from each other, gesturing up and down the length of his body to emphasise his point. “they like haechan, the guy who plays the guitar and is nonchalant, not donghyuck, the guy behind him who always comes second.”

haechan’s tone was undoubtedly bitter, and he paused for a moment. “so, do you get it?”

“..i’m sorry to hear that.” was all you could come up with in the moment, your expression doing enough to showcase your honesty. haechan didn’t response, instead he brushed his fingers through his hair with a lack of energy. “but what about karina? she calls you donghyuck?” you wondered. haechan let the question hang in the air for a bit before he answered.

“because i never told karina any of my issues, why would i? she was a short talking stage, i was still figuring myself out as donghyuck and cut her off once i wanted to start fresh. i didn’t want a memory of the old me to be left behind, except for those i actually care about. i don’t care about karina.” haechan answered truthfully with no hesitation.

once again, you weren’t sure how to carry on from that. what was an appropriate question to ask in such an instance? there was an underlying hostility in his words, yet you could also sense the rawness and misery in them. your empathy truly got the best of you, and you prepared yourself for the speech you were about to give.

“this is probably going to sound weird coming from me.. but i’m sure there are many people who admire you.” you started. “i won’t lie, i hate your guitar, a lot, but you’re not bad at it, i guess.. you could say i admire that, or something.” you averted your gaze, staring ahead just like he did.

“i dont know, it seems to me like you’re scared of people liking you for who you really are which is why you’re putting up this front.” haechan’s face contorted into a frown. “now you’re just twisting my words.” he laughed, and you softly chuckled too. “what i’m trying to say is that i doubt people wouldn’t put you first if you remained true to yourself, for all you know, someone could’ve been madly in love with you for being donghyuck. why change yourself for others if it doesn’t make you happy?”

silence overlook again and you believed that you had hit a sensitive topic. “but it does make me happy.” haechan admitted after a minute, his voice merely a whisper. “so you’re happy being someone you’re not?” you repeated bewildered and haechan shrugged. “maybe.” he answered honestly.

“and you’re happy talking to girls as someone you’re not?” you continued.

“i like the feeling of being wanted.” haechan responded.

“okay, but playing with people’s hearts is not nice.” you argued back. haechan shrugged again. “i never said i’m trying to be nice, life hasn’t been that kind to me either.” he stated simply, crossing his arms over each other again. his persistent mindset shocked you, and you swiftly turned your body to face his.

“listen, i know we’re not that close for me to tell you what to do, but, stop doubting yourself, it’s weird.” you sighed in annoyance. “you’re interesting as you are and i don’t think a guitar would change that much. you’re scared that people will put you second, but you’re not even giving people the chance to put you first by being yourself. wouldn’t it be worse if people found out you’ve been putting up a persona this whole time? that you’re name isn’t even haechan?”

“what are you trying to say (—)” haechan had turned his head to look at you “you’re too harsh on yourself. whether you’re haechan or donghyuck, it shouldn’t matter. if people don’t like you for who you really are, then they’re not worth your time. also, you’re leading girls on by seeking their attention, it’s not nice.” you stated with determination, and haechan couldn’t hold back the smile that was forming on his face.

“why are you getting all serious about that.” he scoffed out a laugh, and the room started to feel more lively. his face seemed to have softened, and you internally let out a sigh of relief, for some reason. “i think everyone has their destined person that’s perfect for them, it’s kinda sad that you’re leading these girls on and making them think you’re their perfect match when you’re not even serious.”

haechan let out another soft laugh, and this time, he sat himself up more proper before turning to face you again. “okay, do you think you’ve met your perfect match?” his stare felt strong as they locked with your eyes and for a moment you remained speechless, lost in the intensity of them. “i don’t know.” you answer back truthfully. haechan nodded his eyes, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “and do you think we could be a perfect match?” and the question took you by surprise, your mouth ajar as you tried to come up with an answer.

“god forbid.” haechan chuckled at your response, and the rapid beating of your heart slowed. “i’m surprised you told me all this, you know. i thought you didn’t like me.” you admitted. haechan’s eyebrows raised at the assumption and he swallowed.

“i just wanted to be vulnerable for the night, knowing i wouldn’t confess to this stuff any other day. its nice to get stuff off your mind from time to time.” it hit you then why everything felt so weird this particular night. because haechan, the guy who barely crossed the friend status, was being vulnerable, with you of all people.

“we aren’t exactly friends.. but you can get stuff off your chest with me if you need to.” you offered haechan, and genuine surprise overtook his features. “why would you do that?” you shrugged, looking down at your own intertwined hands. “isn’t it better to tell someone who couldn’t care less about you than someone who does?”

“i didn’t know you could be nice like this.” haechan chuckled after some time. you scoffed in offence, looking back up at him. “I don’t know what image of me you have in your head, but i’d never make fun of someone’s vulnerability.” you defended yourself. haechan shook his head. “that’s not what i meant.” he corrected.

“i know, but being nice doesn’t have to be limited to friends. its nice to be nice… even towards insufferable people like you.” you continued to defend yourself and haechan’s perked up at your words. “are you saying we can’t be friends?” he wondered, his surprise masked by the tired look that had returned.

you attempted to remain unbothered by his inquiry, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders. “do you want to be friends?” you proposed with hidden curiosity. haechan stuck his hand out towards you, silently waiting. you hesitated before essentially gripping onto it, his own hand shaking your clasped hands.

“i‘ll give you your utensils when i wake up, i’m tired.” haechan yawned before getting up from his couch and walking towards his room. you got up yourself, making your way towards the door with your mind in a haze. your hand was on the handle of his front door, and before you could open it, haechan’s voice called for you.

“just.. you can call me donghyuck too, if you want, since you know it already.”

previous — master list — next

notes ; angsty… anyways sozz i was kinda living life and had no motivation but i’ll try~ proofread this once so sozz for any grammar mistakes

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

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fanfics-i-find-here · 27 days ago

Text

Do I know you? Part 2

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason, not Red Hood, “checks” on you. Cue the shortest/ longest conversation you have had with the man.

Or in other words, is this flirting?

Notes: There is no planned plot for this if anyone can tell. Just running on vibes.

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Your presumption of a long night was regrettably accurate. The annoyance of it all makes you want to chuck your alarm against the wall. But alas, being an adult mattered more and you need money, so work it is. You pray for it to be a busy day so you can forget your embarrassment from the night before.

Clocking into work makes you confident in the fact that it will be busy. You slide into your routine as a waitress at Jackie’s Books and Coffee, greeting customers and delivering drinks and pastries to them. You chat with a few of the regulars as they come in, and you listen as they yap about their lives. As you make another round, you greet another regular.

His name was Jason and that’s all you really knew. He wasn’t like many of the other customers who liked to talk about anything and everything to you. He usually only got coffee and read a book. The one time he did actually talk to you was when you mentioned you had never read a Jane Austen book. It was like that was the only thing that mattered in the world. He ranted at you for 15 minutes about it and you didn’t have the heart to step away. He was cute when he was passionate.

He sat down at his usual table and pulled out a book. You went to work with his order, he always got the same thing. You sat the cup in front of him and asked, “What’s the book for the day?”

You try to glance at the cover but find the front cover blank, a fancy hardcover. Not finding the answer there you meet his gaze to wait for his response. You're startled for a moment by the familiarity of his features. Of course, his features were familiar to you, he was a regular but there was something different this time around. A scar on his lip and his cheek-

“Dracula” your thoughts are cut off by his voice, suddenly strangely familiar too, and you focus in on the conversation.

You smile, “I actually have read that one.”

You are half tempted to add, might be better than Jane Austen, but you decided you still want to work for the next half hour. You settle on, “Hollywood definitely got that one wrong, so much for the undead being sexy.” You joke.

His laugh comes out a little startled and you’re proud of the accomplishment. He usually looks so sullen in his corner booth, although that might just be because he’s so focused on his book.

“I don’t know, Hollywood might be onto something.” He says it like it’s an inside joke, but you feel like you missed the punchline.

“Maybe,” you say with a polite laugh, “Did you want anything else?” you ask.

He shakes his head. Not a huge shocker, he never wants anything but his drink and his book.

“Just let me know if you do.” You walk away slowly as you try to push down the weird familiar feeling you’re having all of a sudden. You check in with a few customers and, with a lull in commotion you settle into a chair next to the register. Bless Jackie for having one, your feet slowly starting to ache as the end of your shift draws near. Darla, one of the other waitresses comes to stand close to you. She leans in with a conspiratory look.

“So, you get his number?” she questions, her Gothamite accent heavy. Your head whips to look at her and you almost knock noses.

“What?” you try to keep your tone neutral, but your tone pitches up. Her lips twist into a grin and you’d think it evil if you didn’t already know her. Darla was nearly 50 years old, and she reminded you of a self-proclaimed “Fun Aunt” who liked to be in on all the gossip and had no sense of personal space. She had been goading you to date someone, anyone, just so she could be all up in your business. Because according to her, you were the most boring person she’d ever met.

“The hottie, did you get his number?” she asks again as she pulls out a compact mirror to brush some fly-aways from her face.

“First of all, I still don’t know who you’re talking about.” You do but that’s neither here nor there. “Second, you can’t just call customer’s Hotties, Darla, that weird.”

She scoffs and snaps her compact closed. “All right, Scarface over there. Did you get his number?”

You practically jump at her to cover her mouth. “Darla!”

She pushes your hand away with a grin. “Don’t worry Baby doll. It makes him look hot in a rugged way.”

“Darla, I swear-“you're cut off by a throat clearing. You turn to see a college student awkwardly waiting at the register. Your face flushes and you drop your hands from Darla and through on a customer service smile.

“Hi, sorry about that. How can I help you?” You manage to stay away from Darla for the rest of your shift, checking on customers probably more than necessary. It's 5 o’clock when your shift finally ends. You brush by Darla to clock out and she follows you.

“You gonna answer my question or not?” Ever persistent for an older woman.

“No, Darla, I did not get Jason’s number” You pointedly use his name, so she won’t use Scarface or Hottie again.

“Oh, First name basis.” She teases.

You roll your eyes and pull off your apron to hang it up. You turn and look at her.

“Goodbye Darla,” you say sweetly with a too cheesy smile. It's her turn to roll her eyes as she goes back to work. You collect your purse and jacket and head for the front door of the shop. The early fall weather not having kicked in yet, you carry your jacket on your arm. Focused on pulling your purse over your head, you nearly run into a mass.

“Oh Sorry,” you say as you take a step back.

“No, you’re okay. I shouldn’t have bullied my way in front of you.” A deep voice speaks. You look up and meet blue-green eyes. Jason.

“I hardly think someone so passionate about Jane Austen could do any Bullying” You see Jason flush a little at the comment but don’t say anything. He holds the front door open for you. You thank him as you hurriedly shuffle through the open door. He follows you out onto the warm sidewalk. Assuming your conversation is done you head down the sidewalk with your arms crossed in front of you holding your jacket. As you walk you become very conscious of the man next to you. You glance at him curiously but don’t comment.

You take your time walking with him silently. You're not in a rush to get home, darkness still a few hours away. You should be worried. You’re not though. Jason has never struck you as a bad guy. Call it energy or vibe or what have you (ranting about Jane Austen). He just wasn’t bad. Intimidating? Yes, but not bad. As you walk you give some subtle side glances. He was very… Large. You didn’t know how else to describe him. Nearly a whole head taller than you and muscular. Yeah, he could definitely pick you up and carry you. You flush, not that that mattered. Your eyes get drawn back to his face. You know those scars; you swear up and down that it's not just because he’s a regular. They’ve never stuck out to you like this, and you can’t figure out why. In your (not so) subtle side-eye, you meet his gaze. He’s already smiling at you, but you don’t linger on it dropping your gaze to the concrete.

“Heading home?” He asks, tilting his head toward you.

You look up to meet his gaze, intense in the stare and unsure if he's just like that or dissecting you. This is the longest amount of time you’ve spent actually near him without tending to customers.

“Uh, yeah?” you ask yourself. Of course, you're going home; where else would you go? But why would you tell him that? You don’t think Jason would do anything bad to you; he is still, at most, an acquaintance, and you don’t really know him. (Not that it matters considering you let a literal stranger into your home the night before.) If he senses your hesitation and worry, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I wish I was.” He admits but quickly adds on, “Going to my home, not yours. That would be weird, I don’t really know you.” His voice drops quieter as he trails off. He rubs at the back of his neck, a light flush on his cheeks. The man in a flustered state must give you some courage.

“Yeah, that would be weird,” you tease, “Although maybe not a bad thing.” You quiet for a moment and think is this good flirting?

“If you're not going home, then where are you going?” You ask both curious about the answer and if it’ll explain why he's still walking with you.

His flush darkens and he mumbles for a moment and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Leather Jacket…

“Family required dinner,” he says it like it’s the worst thing in the entire world, sitting next to nuclear weapons and climate change.

“That sounds fun” You try to keep a neutral tone because a family dinner does sound fun, to you, but he, apparently, thinks otherwise.

“Oh, loads of it,” he says with a scowl.

You decide a variety of things at that moment. First, he was unfairly attractive. Scowling should not look that good. Second, you want to stop him from scowling, a sadness sitting just behind his eyes. Thirdly, Darla was, unfortunately, correct. You should get this guy's number.

“at least tell me there's dessert.” You ask teasingly. Your inquiry is enough to chase away the scowl and you smile at the fact.

“Only the best homemade cookies in existence” he responds with a smile.

“At least there's something good.” You slow your walk as you come to the corner where your apartment building sits. You don’t want to give away that you live here, but you don’t want to start wandering around the streets of Gotham with him either. As it turns out, your overthinking is unnecessary.

“This is me.” He states as he walks to a parked motorcycle right in front of the building. You can't help but stare.

“Will you make it home safe all alone?” he asks like he already knows the answer. It takes you a moment to answer, distracted as he pulls a helmet out of the back seat of the bike, preparing to put it on. The leather made more sense now.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, it'll be no problem. I don’t live far.” You gesture further down the street, where you definitely did not live. He nods and smiles knowingly as he slips the helmet on.

“Okay see you later, sweetheart.” He says as he slings a leg over the bike, starting. You stare, again, at the denim of his jeans stretching over his legs nicely. He gives you a wave before taking off down the street, turning a corner. You stand and stare at the spot he had just been for much longer than you should have. You let a quiet “Bye” leave your lips despite him being long gone.

You finally turn around to your apartment building. How convenient that was. You pet one of the stray cats that sit on the steps as you climb them and enter the building, thinking Am I missing something?

Other Note: Thank you for all the love for the first part. It inspired me to keep going. I hope this makes some kind of sense.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #fanfics-i-find-here #Kandywrites #do i know you?

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oatmealwrites · 7 days ago

Text

NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Megumi x Reader

Holiday Traditions!

Vet Student! Frat Member! Megumi x F!Reader

Megumi's always been called the total scrooge of Christmas despite never having a stable family to celebrate the holidays with. Though this year he's hoping to make some good memories with you... even if you do drag him to go ice skating despite his protests.

note: reader and Megumi ARE IN COLLEGE. I will NOT write ANY nsfw jjk fics w the students unless they are aged up to their 20s.

Tags: porn with plot, friends to lovers, down bad Megumi, Yuji and Nobara cockblock, sweet toothache fluff at first, mentions of arousal & masturbation, megumi calls reader 'angel', oral [f receiving], female anatomy, p in v, protection used!, condom, missionary, legs on shoulders, aftercare, established relationship at end, MDNI, 18+

Holiday Hoes Masterlist

not totally proofread -> may edit later

Word count: 9.9k (im cooking again, maybe)

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

The fluff of a certain white-haired dog sticks to your shirt as you read out the answers from the mock exam back to Yuji and Nobara who look more sullen with each question you reveal. Snacks and soft drinks litter the kitchen of the apartment and both of Megumi’s dogs circle the table like sharks waiting for stray scraps.

Yuji places a firm ‘X’ on the last answer and throws his hands up in exasperation, “This is insane! Surely you’re reading the answer key wrong!”

You look down at the paper before turning to the man on your right, handing Megumi the mock exam answer sheet and now carefully peeling tufts of fur from your shirt. Nobara compares her sheet with Yuji, silently cursing as she notices their tied score for 4/25.

“Nope, she did it right,” Megumi places the sheet of paper across from his two friends, “You two just failed. Again.”

A pity giggle escapes your lips and Megumi looks over in your direction, the ghost of a blush on his cheeks before he returns a solemn face to the pair.

“Argh! This is impossible.”

“Really! The prof has to curve it!” “No one in the class is doing well either.”

“I heard people will file complaints for his lack of teaching.”

Nobara and Yuji go back and forth spouting excuses for their poor scores, blaming everything and everyone but themselves for a lack of preparation.

“Enough,” Megumi pushes back from the table and scratches the head of the large black dog at his feet before collecting the stray cans that had accumulated, “If you two fail this exam you’re going to be sitting for retakes.”

The air is deflated from the two, and they immediately sink onto the table in worry and self-pity while you watch Megumi step on the pedal of the recycling bin and dump the aluminum inside. His hair is still messy from bed and his clothes are loungewear of university sweatpants and an oversized band sweatshirt from a concert Yuji and Nobara had dragged him to last semester.

“Ah it won’t be so bad! How many days do you have until the final?” You stand up and collect empty wrappers, silently passing them to Megumi in an effort to assist in the clean up.

Nobara taps her finger to her chin, “Hmmm I think it mentioned it in the syllabus ... .Friday maybe?”

You stop short, “Three days!? And you just now began studying?”

Megumi sighs and watches Yuji sheepishly play with the white dog’s fur, hiding behind the clouds of hair that fly up from the action, “I’m not surprised.”

You wince and lift the answer key back up again, “Well I’m not much help considering our different majors, but I’ll keep reviewing the concepts with you until you have a better understanding.”

Yuji and Nobara shoot up and raise their hands in gratitude.

“Thank you!”

“So kind!!”

“I’ll do any favor you want.”

“Just say the words-”

“–Hey,” Megumi points to the answer sheet with one long finger, his eyes narrowing at both of them, “Don’t take advantage of Y/N’s kindness. She’s willing to help you out but that doesn’t mean you can slack off the entire day and not take this seriously.”

“I am taking this seriously!” Yuji shoots back, his eyes wide with passion and determination, “The resit exam is the same evening as the holiday frat function!”

“We can’t miss it!”

Megumi nearly deflates from the response and resorts to picking up the TV remote and flipping through the channels in the connected living room, uninterested in any other argument that they have to offer. You turn back to Yuji and Nobara who are actively planning their evening plan for the function, the exam completely forgotten.

“Do you guys have a party for everything?”

Yuji snaps back and grins wide, “Yea isn’t it great? I heard Nanamin is making cookies for this one!”

Nobara ‘oooos’ and begins recalling the best cookies her childhood friend had brought her from a trip to Tokyo while you sit at the table and reconsider your choices in life. Megumi slides the remote onto the kitchen counter and looks at the TV before standing next to you and breaking the commotion.

“If you two are going to be unfocused at least make this an honest break. Let Y/N and I also rest in the meantime.”

You look up to him with a slight smile as if to say ‘thanks’ and turn back to Yuji who is already standing from the table and stretching. Nobara follows suit, opening her phone and scrolling a few times before checking the time.

“Hey Yuji– let’s go to the convenience store. I’m hungry.”

“Huhhh? Didn’t you eat earlier?”

Nobara shoots him a glare and Yuji raises his hands up in defeat, not wanting an argument to break out before the clock has even hit noon. You take this chance to stand up and stretch as well, a slight grumble emitting from your stomach.

“Why don’t we go by that new cafe that just opened up? I think it’s only a few blocks down the road and I’ve been dying to try it.”

Yuji and Nobara exchange a glance between each other before turning to Megumi who holds their stare. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes hold enough to show a small indication to something only known between the three of them.

It’s not unfamiliar, the three of them are much closer to each other considering their shared time in high school, though the feeling is still as isolating as ever. You look between each of them, wondering what the inside reference could possibly be before Yuji speaks up and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “Ahh that cafe? Maybe some other time Y/N… we’re just getting snacks for now.”

You force your lips into a tight grin and nod once, trying your best to not let the feeling of disappointment be heard in your voice, “Oh ok. Pick me up a Red Bull and some chips?”

Nobara smiles once and the two shuffle on their winter jackets before making a promise ‘it’ll only be 30 minutes’ and heading out of the apartment door. Megumi retreats back into the living and sits on the sofa while you take a moment to admire the coziness of the atmosphere. Yuji was the one who insisted their shared apartment needed to be decorated for the holidays and Nobara had offered to assist in setting up. Colorful winter lights are hanging along the border of the ceiling, small stockings that Jin had mailed Yuji hang under the TV using command hooks and push pins, and a semi-alive tree sits in the corner with every branch holding an ornament.

You walk up to the couch and sit on the other side of Megumi, shuffling around to look for a fallen throw blanket to cover your legs with. The dogs move to lay in their respective beds, enjoying the sunlight that comes pouring into from the windows for their midafternoon nap.

“Are you cold? You can have a pair of my sweatpants if you need.”

You shuffle and pull the blanket over your leggings, the edge of your oversized JJK frat t-shirt from a function you assisted in running reaching your mid-thigh, “It’s alright, but I might need to take you up on a sweatshirt later though.”

Megumi smiles gently at you before peeling his eyes off yours and back to the TV which was now playing a cheesy Hallmark flic. The main love interests are currently holiday gift shopping for their mutual friend together, though it’s painfully obvious the male lead is beyond jealous. The cliche of it all is enough to make you roll your eyes, but before you can give a coy remark you catch Megumi’s stare at the screen.

His face is the same it usually is, attentive but uninterested, yet despite that he makes no move to change the channel or shut the TV off. Dark, nearly navy blue eyes, stare between the two characters almost longingly, as if he was watching something he could never have.

Though all other indicators of his body language show otherwise, feet planted on the ground as if he were to stand up at any moment and fingers twitching like he may reach for the remote again.

“You don’t like this movie?”

“Hmm–”, He turns and looks over at you for a moment, slightly pink from catching him off guard, before turning back to the TV. “Oh, more like I find it… unrealistic? Maybe that’s the word...”

“Oh yea I agree. I mean who goes Christmas shopping with their crush for another guy? So cheesy.”

Megumi furrows his brows and shakes his head lightly, his eyes not leaving the movie couple who are now arguing but show nothing but desire on their faces, “Sorry, maybe it wasn’t the best word. I guess unrelatable fits it better.”

You don’t say anything instead of a slight ‘hmm’ for him to continue.

Megumi sighs and shrugs his shoulders, motioning to the array of holiday decor scattered across the apartment but stopping short when his hand nearly reaches your direction, “I just don’t have the same association you guys do with this time of year. Holiday parties with friends and family, decorating trees with tacky music in the background, going on da-”

He cuts himself off and stares at the screen for an extra moment before turning to you earnestly, “Yuji always calls me a scrooge but… I just don’t see the point. It’s not like I grew up experiencing it.”

Fuck. Great, just great. Try to make small talk and accidentally bring up family trauma. Another reminder to never go into the psychology or therapy majors.

“Oh, yea I guess that’s fair,” you snuggle into the blanket further and try your hardest to ignore the pouty form of his lips and the way his hair kisses the apples of his cheeks every time he moves his head. “Are you going to the frat function at least?”

“Huh?” Megumi opens his mouth in awe and raises an eyebrow, “No way.”

“Really? You’re seriously not going?”

“Well..” he rubs the back of his neck annoyed, a slight twitch in his eyebrow, “Satoru is my big… I have no doubt he’ll try to drag me there anyways.”

You giggle and the large white-haired dog stands up from its bed with a long stretch and quick shake before placing its head in your lap and waiting for attention.

“Could be fun~”

“Maybe..” Megumi mumbles as he watches your fingers run through the hair of his beloved pet, soft coos and kisses leaving your lips as you look at the dog with admiration. The same longing look creeps onto his face as he watches you, an almost pained expression as he listens to the soft praises he so desperately wants to hear be directed at him instead of the canine in front of you.

“I guess I just don’t see why this time of year has to be any different than any other season..”

You shrug, still petting the dog and scratching behind its ears, “I mean besides the vibes… it is colder. So better for staying close and warm?”

Megumi pauses and stares at you with a slight blush before the implication of your words sinks in and you raise your hands in protest, “Not like that but I mean… It is cuffing season… which is unrelated! Hahah… when is Yuji back? It’s been 30 minutes right?”

Your words are fumbled and rushed together while Megumi blinks slowly and gently grins, a warm glow on his cheeks, “Well, what do you like to do this time of year then?”

You bring your hands down and rest them back on the fur of the dog, though your attention is still focused on Megumi, “Hmmm, ice skating?”

“Ice skating? Sounds menial.”

“What? It’s super hard at first but also really fun!”

“It's just rollerblading on ice… how is that holiday themed anyways?”

You pause and cross your arms, “Geez, you were the one who asked for my opinion..”

Megumi pauses for a moment and turns back to the TV for a split second, looking at the way the couple is now sharing a passionate kiss having revealed their true affection for one another.

“Let’s go.”

Megumi turns his attention back to you in slight shock, “What?”

“Let’s go ice skating. I’ll show you it can be fun.”

“I already know it won’t be. We can save the money for admission by agreeing to that now.”

You roll your eyes and nearly give up on the idea, your heart slightly retracting at the borderline rejection and go to kiss the dog another light air-kiss. Megumi watches and sucks in a breath, “I mean.. I guess we can give it a try.”

“Really?” Your eyes shoot open and your hand leaves the head of the dog to the armrest of the couch to support your body as you pivot to face him fully, “I’ll show you how fun it can be. I bet all of us will have a great time!”

Megumi sinks back into his chair slightly, taking short glimpses at the TV couple with an uneasy expression now written on his face.

“All of us?”

“... I mean.. I thought you would want to invite Yuji and Nobra.”

He takes the corner of his bottom lip between his canines and bites for a second, the white-haired dog now meandering over to him for attention and placing its head in his lap. Megumi pets it absentmindedly, lost in thought before turning to you, “I’ve already done decorating with Nobara and watched a million ‘classic’ movies with Yuji… if it’s alright I’d like to just do this with you.. And see why you like it so much.”

OH MY G-. stay calm. This is cool. This is totally chill and totally platonic. Right? right.

“Yea, I’d like that.”

Megumi smiles earnestly and an invisible weight can almost be seen lifting off his shoulders at your response. He nods once and turns back to the movie, your bodies still positioned close to each other and only separated by the thin fuzzy throw blanket. Despite the sunlight pouring in from the windows, the array winter lights reflect a warm rainbow of colors on his hair and the chill of the winter air makes you snuggle into the fabric deeper. Before he can open his mouth again there’s a shuffle in front of the apartment door and Yuji swings it open with Nobara following him closely.

“Alright guys! Got the goods!”

Yuji kicks off his sneakers next to the shoe rack and shimmies out of his jacket while Nobara empties the contents of the plastic bag onto the kitchen table. Megumi sighs and stands up, waiting for you and folds the throw blanket once you rise from the couch. With a slight yawn you open the plastic folder on the table and take out the second mock-exam for the final before passing it to Nobara and Yuji.

Yuji lifts his pencil and stares at this paper with determination, “This time– we’ll pass it!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday comes faster than you expected, having been so busy assisting Yuji and Nobara with their exam review and running around various shopping malls to finish up last minute holiday shopping that the text message from Megumi indicating he could pick you up at 2pm nearly causes cardiac arrest.

He follows through on his promise, picks you up from your apartment promptly at 2pm, and raises an eyebrow when you suggest playing holiday music during the drive to ‘set the mood’.

“Nonsense… Christmas..? Are you sure this is classic holiday music?”

“Yep! Listen to it every year.”

Megumi shrugs as you two make small talk about campus events, future frat functions, and winter break plans; enjoying the company of each other and a slight burn on your cheeks from how easy everything seemed with him. After only 20 minutes he pulls the car into the parking lot of the ice rink and gives you one last look of ‘are we really doing this?’ before sliding out of the car and opening your door.

It’s busy but not overcrowded, the two of you only waiting about 5 minutes to pay admission, which Megumi insists on paying for you, and grabbing a pair of rental skates. The two of you walk to the edge of the rink and admire the ice for a moment; Megumi walks on the skates with perfect balance and grace making you wonder if he’ll be skating circles around you in no time.

You take to the ice first, sliding on it a few times before planting both skates and moving a few arm’s lengths away from the entrance and turning to watch Megumi. He stares at the ice and grips the edge of the wall, mirroring how you had felt the ice before pushing off with both feet towards the center.

You watch in awe at first at the way he glides further down the ice, before he lifts a leg to push off and immediately crashes down onto the rink. The ice pushes his body so he slides into the wall with a ‘thud’ and it takes all of your personal resolve to not immediately lean over and cackle.

“Oh my– pfft- Are you? Heheh Are you ok?”

“People find this fun?”

You stand next to Megumi and offer a hand, which he wastes no time in taking, and pull him to his feet so he can balance against the wall.

“It’s fun to me.”

“Yea, probably funny watching me fall.”

The cold air nips at your cheeks and nose, painting them a pale pink while you dust off some of the ice from his jacket; the moment is so wholesome you can’t even think about anything else besides the man in front of you and his lack of balance.

“Come on~ try again ok?”

Megumi sighs but listens regardless, pushing off the wall and immediately falling back down, scowling when a small child easily glides past him without any help at all. The cycle repeats a few times, and by the 4th time he falls, the confidence and patience in the activity is nearly drained.

“Ok, how about this?” You drag him up again, as you’ve been doing the whole time, but this time you don’t let go of his arm. “It seems like you prefer holding onto the wall… so why don’t you just hold on to me?”

“Huh?”

You skate outwards and drag his body off the wall, watching the way his face goes from flinching to fascination when he doesn’t immediately topple over. An arm wrapped around his bicep, as he always been this fit?, you gently guide the man down the ice. Megumi doesn’t miss the way your eyes are looking everywhere but him and the intense blush on your face that is surely mirroring his own; he swallows thickly and leans into your touch slightly, trying to memorize the way it feels to have you wrapped around his arm as if your bodies were made to fit together.

“See? Not too bad right?”

Megumi looks down at you and grins, though holds his sarcastic tone for the bit, “Mmmm I guess it could be worse..”

You gently nudge him and laugh while he lets out a few chuckles and matches moving his legs at the same interval as your own. A fast learner, you both manage to do an entire lap around the rink without falling over, though a few wobbles on a particularly beat up patch of ice causes his grip on you to intensify.

“You’re a natural.”

“Only able to do this because you’re here with me.”

Looking up at Megumi it would be impossible to miss the way he’s staring at you, admiration and honesty on his face while his gaze swaps between your eyes and your lips. Excitement coursing through you now, your head subconsciously leans in when his hand dips from your shoulder to waist and pulls you closer into his body.

About to shut your eyes, your body jerks when the same small child from earlier glides right past Megumi, but close enough to make him flinch and stumble. In slow motion, he topples to the ground and drags you along with him, hitting the ice with a combined ‘thud’ as you land side by side and still wrapped into each other.

“I… I’m so sorry! Are you hurt-”

Tears break from your eyes and laughter leaves your lips loudly without any care, the entire situation being too funny and cliche to elicit any other kind of reaction from you. Megumi chokes on his words and watches you with his eyes wide and lips parted; any resentment towards the annoying kid for ruining the moment instantly dissipates as he gets lost in the sound of your laughter.

“You’re ok?”

“Hmm?” You wipe a tear and sit up on the ice, Megumi's arms still wrapped around you as they were earlier to break to your fall, “Yea I’m fine. This is just part of learning and it’s hilarious.”

His face is bright red and before he can lean in again, in an attempt to re-do the one thing he’s been aching to do for months now, a whistle blows signaling the end of the open session. Looking up at the time you wonder how 2 hours could fly by so fast before standing up and pulling your companion to his feet right after.

“What do you usually do after ice skating?”

You glide to a halt and step off the ice and onto the mats on the floor, offering Megumi a hand when he follows suit, “Hot cocoa? We can make some and watch a movie?”

The man at your close side, closer than usual, slides out his phone and checks the time, “That sounds good. Yuji and Nobara are still on campus for a while.”

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

Your lips hover above the rim of the mug, blowing steam away from the beverage before taking a sip and sighing at the familiar flavor. Another cheesy holiday romance movie plays in the living room while you lean against the kitchen counter and watch Megumi pour himself a hot chocolate. Silently you pass him the toppings—whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate syrup—while he raises an eyebrow at you and mumbles about ‘getting a stomach ache’ before adding them into his mug.

“So… how was ice skating? 1 through 10 ranking.”

Megumi winces at the sweet flavor of the beverage and leans his weight into the counter next to you, so close that the scent of his laundry detergent fills your senses.

“Well I did fall a lot..but,” he looks off with a slight blush and coughs slightly. “I guess it’s not so bad given the company.. Maybe a 6?”

“I’ll take a 6. You know the more you do it the better you get? We can go again next weekend if you're free.”

Megumi watches as you sip on your hot cooca, eyes lingering on the way your face lights up at the same flavor he can’t seem to digest without getting a toothache; he takes another sip regardless, wanting to experience it the same way you certainly were. You don’t pay any attention until the feeling of a paper napkin is wiping your cheeks at the whipped cream that had rubbed off against your face with your last sip.

Smiling up at Megumi and aching to slow your increased heart rate, you take the napkin and wipe off any remnant while he continues staring at you; lips part and close again as if he were constantly trying to start a sentence before backpedaling and remaining silent. This particular holiday movie in the background shows two friends attempting to make a gingerbread house, though their touches against each other are anything other than platonic.

Megumi watches it for a moment before inhaling slowly and resolving himself to finish what he keeps trying to start, “I want to do that again. Go ice skating with you again. But…”

A deep breath escapes his lips and you internally prepare for rejection.

It’s fine… just happened to misread the situation. If he doesn’t want anything more… it’s just something to accept and move on… even if it hurts like a bitch.

“I have to come clean about this-” he places his mug on the counter and looks intently at you, “I accepted the offer as if it were something friendly… like two friends just hanging out,” you wince but he continues, “But in all honesty I wanted it to be different. For us to be different.”

He pushes off the counter and moves forward to face you head on, “I’m sorry about my intentions… and lack of clarity for them but..” he pushes a chunk of his hair back in frustration at the way he keeps getting caught in his words and the strands fall right back into the same place, “I just can’t sit here with you drinking hot cocoa, watching movies, going ice skating and feeling you hold onto me and pretend to feel something platonic when the only thing I want is for us to be anything but that.”

Huh? HUH?

Megumi stands in front of you, waiting for anything to leave your lips at his words, and cringes at himself for the lack of clarity in the way he worded everything. The black-haired dog nudges into his leg waiting for a treat or some attention, but he stands motionless waiting for your response.

“I think I understand…and I feel the same. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly wish ice skating was a date.”

“It could be.”

You look up at Megumi who watches you with eyes full of a different kind of longing than they hold during the movie; his eyes watch you carefully as if at any moment you could back pedal and crush his vulnerable heart.

“What do you mean?”

“Well..” he takes the mug from your hands and places it on the counter next to his, “we can mark this one down as our first?”

His voice is gentle and sweet, his eyes searching yours for reciprocation when you resolve to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for a kiss. There’s a slight sigh through his nose at the feeling, soft lips move against yours, and your hands tangle in his messy dark hair. You both break away for a moment, taking in the realness of the situation before connecting at the mouth once more and pulling each other in closer to solidify the mutual decision.

Tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss further, his lips move in sync against yours while his hands rest politely on your back. A whimper escapes his mouth when your hands leave from the mess of his hair and reach around to grab his knuckles and push down to rest his palms on your hips. The sound of his earlier disposition melts into a moan when he’s given permission to sink his fingertips into the flesh of your hips and waist, relishing in the moment he’s been dreaming of.

His hands massage the flesh and occasionally dip down just a liiittleee lower to grab at the upper curve of your ass; your lips break and reconnect with more force. With a slight tug on his hair and knead of your ass, his tongue pokes out to break a testing swipe across your bottom lip. Instantly you part open your mouth just a bit wider to feel the hot muscle of his tongue push against your own, teeth occasionally clacking from the awkward angle before you both find momentum.

Megumi hums into the motion, addicted to running his tongue against yours, savoring the sweet flavor of the hot chocolate.

“I don’t mind that much…” Megumi mumbles, breaking from the kiss for a short moment before reconnecting his lips and taking a firm squeeze of your flesh in his hand, “the taste of that sugary drink” kiss “isn’t bad when I’m tasting it off you..”

Knees nearly weak at the comment and a blush intense across your face, you drag his face into yours with more pressure, trying to hide the embarrassment from his admission. He chuckles and pushes you into the counter further, chasing your lips before a firm sensation pushes into your pelvis and Megumi backs up awkwardly.

Awkwardly pivoting and nearly tripping on the fluffy black dog that was sitting behind his feet, Megumi catches his balance and looks off to the side and brings his hands up in apology.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean… I hope… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable..”

You struggle to follow until your eyes trace past the worry on his lips and slight tremble of his finger tips before sinking further to the obvious erection straining against the fabric of his left upper thigh. He shifts his weight uncomfortably and shoves his hands into the pocket of his jeans, pushing the fabric up to avoid the obvious bulge that grows with the heightened sexual tension.

You feel the slick of your own arousal seep into the cotton fabric of your panties and you clench achingly around nothing. Megumi pants deeply but refuses to make eye contact, silently wondering if he had pushed things too far and broken a boundary by his body’s reaction.

Your mouth feels so dry and your throat is growing tight from the carnal desire building. ��N-no… you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all..”

Megumi breaks his gaze from the TV screen and looks back at you, hair disbelieved more than usual and pupils blown wide as he listens to your response. Shit he’s powerless against that stare, well against all of you in truth. Anything you want he’d do, every word he’d listen to; that same hypnotic spell you placed him under the first time Yuji had introduced the both of you.

“Y-yea? It’s ok?”

You nod and drag him back into you, hovering your lips. Surely you could just keep kissing and ignore right? How hard could that be? Haha… we’ll just ignore it…

You reconnect your lips and his hands make no hesitation to rest on your hips again while your hands tangle in his hair before tugging the material of his sweatshirt closer to you. It’s as if he’s drunk, all the plans he had on wooing you are thrown out the window as soon as his skin touches yours.

The plan, the original plan, he had was to impress you at ice skating and maybe even hold your hand during it. That failed, so he resorted to your proposal of hot chocolate and a movie, an opportunity to ask you out, but this time as something more. Even then he couldn’t muster up the courage until you offered to go ice skating again.

You groan against the muscle of his tongue while his hips grind against your pelvis, the friction his body craved finally getting a taste.

No. Megumi knows he has to make a move here; tired of the way he usually sits back and lets life do what it wants with him. It takes Yuji and Nobara dragging him out of the house to actually doing something, and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let the one girl he’s actually liked kiss him without knowing exactly what he’s been thinking and feeling all this time.

Walking his dogs together, grabbing lunch on campus, fuck even Satoru teasing him countless times at functions for acting like a needy virgin when he stared helplessly at you; begging for an once of attention as if he were a dog.

Megumi pushes into you further, his hand going south to grab your ass and kneed the flesh before his lips break yours and his mouth sucks hard and fat spots onto the side of your neck.

“Fuck.. Megumi—“

His tongue swipes the skin before he sinks his teeth in hungrily, mind going fuzzy from desire and arousal. Every time his name leaves your lips, his teeth sink in just a little bit harder and his cock twitches painfully from within his jeans.

You’re nearly squished between his erection and the corner of the counter, in an effort to breathe you take a step back but Megumi immediately follows suit, mumbling into your neck “Haaa.. don’t run… please angel…”

He grabs your hips steady and reconnects your lips, continuously grinding against you, making no effort to hide the way his body was begging for more. Further crushed between the force of his pelvis and the cool counter, you take a hand down from his hair and place it flat against his chest, pushing back.

Megumi allows himself to be swayed back, momentarily worrying if you would call it off here before you tug on the hem of his sweatshirt. “We can… go upstairs?” You turn to the counter and laugh dryly, “It might give us some more room?”

A shiver runs down his spine and Megumi exhales shakily at the thought while his cheeks puff with every breath. “That’s alright?”

Immediately he thinks of his room, is it messy? Did he pick his clothes up off the floor? Would you notice a very obvious box of tissues and lube on his night stand?

Before he can continue internally worrying about the state of his bedroom, you take him by the hand and nod, mirroring the same face drunken with desire, “yea… I want to.”

Megumi’s brain nearly short circuits at the admission and his body moves towards his bedroom, dragging you behind him, Ok.. this is happening… act casual.

His palms halts on the door knob for a moment, silently wondering when the last time he shaved was, if his deodorant was still working, and– “Oh..”

As soon as he opens the door, both dogs nudge past your legs and get comfortable on his bed and floor, looking up at him as they would every evening routine. Boner still uncomfortable in his jeans with his hands now on your waist while your panties are sopping wet, you both exchange uncomfortable glances.

“Alright.. Sorry..”

Megumi shuffles over and picks up the white-haired dog from his bed while you corral the other out of the door; only stopping once both are shooed back into the living room. Megumi sighs and clicks the door shut before turning back to you; instead of an awkward small talk over the fact his dogs are cockblocks, he resolves to grab your waist with one hand, cradling your neck in the other, and pulling you into a kiss.

Your brain returns to its dizzy and fuzzy state, crawling backwards onto the plush mattress of his bed when Megumi guides you to it, his lips never leaving yours. Fingers leaving the dip of your hips, his hands gently push your back flat while he remains standing between your legs and dips his head down into your neck.

Cool fingers play with the hem of your sweater and admire the warmth of the skin of your navel before playing with the elastic of your leggings. His kisses are lighter than the bruising ones from earlier but each movement of his lips leaves goosebumps on your skin.

“Can I…” he swallows and stands upright, pinching his fingers between the elastic of your leggings, “take these off?”

Heart pounding in your chest and mind fuzzy with desire, you nod once and watch the way he gently tugs the fabric down and motions for you to raise your hips; pulling them past the curve of your thighs and down your ankles before throwing them haphazardly behind him.

Your breath stops as his movements halt, embarrassment burning on your face as he stares at the dark blue cotton that’s stained an even darker color from the amount of slick saturating the fabric. “Oh wow.. Angel..”

The new pet name barely registers in your head before a finger glides up and down the fold of your pussy, occasionally pushing against the wet patch to see how much more the fabric could sop up before it leaked onto his finger. You shiver and whimper with each stroke of his finger, flexing your hips when his other hand moves to rub circles around your clit through your panties.

“Aaaa… M-Megumi..”

Your head is thrown back when he finally hooks his fingers along the waistband and tugs the underwear down to meet your leggings on his bedroom floor. He splays your thighs open with a strong grip on your legs and stares for a moment once more before leaning down to place open mouth kisses along the flesh. One particularly fresh bruise on the side of your thigh gets a few extra kisses, as if an apology from Megumi for pulling you to the ice and causing the small injury.

Impatient hands tangle in his hair as you attempt to tug him to where you need him the most, “Please.. Megumi.. Need you…”

And who was he to resist you? In the same hypnotic trance, he kneels against the edge of his bed and groans slightly at the pressure against his cock before licking a long stripe up your pussy. Nails scraping his scalp and head leaning into the plush blanket on his bed, Megumi wastes no time licking several more long stripes.

It’s the girl he’s been dreaming about nonstop with her thighs spread wide for him, and Megumi finally snaps. All the months of hesitation come rushing back into his mind, remembering every time he was too awkward to tell you directly how he felt, and it flips a switch in him. No longer testing the water, he delves his tongue into the entrance of your pussy and wraps his arms around the underside of your thighs to keep you still.

“Oh my-.. Nnnghh”

His nose occasionally bumps your clit and the reaction leaving your lips makes him only more feral, increasing the sloppiness of his tongue moving in and out your cunt and creating a pool of saliva and wetness staining his chin and the bed below.

The noise is disgustingly lewd, sopping french kisses to your pussy before his tongue rubs against your clit and an index finger slowly stretches you open. You throw your head back in pleasure and Megumi looks up to watch the furrow of your eyebrows before diving back in; his hips humping pathetically against the mattress, erection growing painfully hard.

“Fuck!”

A second finger stretches you open so nicely while his teeth pinch and nip at your puffy and swollen clit. Megumi’s lips continue focusing on you intently, determined to make you finish at least once on his mouth. He’s been dreaming of this moment for so long, and was not about to let it end without making you feel as good as he’s been planning to. All the nights of shoving his hand down his boxers, wishing, needing it to be yours, was nothing compared to the sounds that left your lips and pussy.

“Right.. Ahhh.. right there…”

Digging your nails into his hair and pulling slightly, your back arches when his fingers graze that one spot along your vaginal wall. The sensation has your toes curling and twitching as they rest on his shoulders and he wears your thighs like earmuffs.

“Right here?” Megumi looks up at you, eyes half shut in drunken desire and a mess of fluids dripping down his chin to the bob of his Adam’s apple, before flicking his fingers upright from inside you, “Here, angel?”

A partial whimper, partial gasp is all he needs to hear before his fingers curl to bully the rough patch and his lips dip to rub his tongue against your clit with as much force and speed he could give. Hips twitching and raising to meet his action, a familiar coil builds in your abdomen and you begin to clench pathetically against his fingers.

“Shit.. just got so much wetter f’me..”

Increasing the speed of his fingers to a bruising pace to rut against your g-spot, you throw your head back and convulse slightly at the amount of pleasure that washes over you as your orgasm ripples through your body.

“Yea.. just like that angel.”

Megumi continues thrusting his fingers, though slower, to gently fuck out the rest of your orgasm and then lift his hand to his mouth to suck your cum off of them. You wearily blink at him and sway your head from side to side, the weight of your release leaving your limbs like jelly.

With a slight ‘pop’ of his fingers, Megumi rises once and softly rubs circles into the flesh of your thighs with eyes staring intently at you in stark contrast. Almost as if watching prey, he tilts his head to the side and leans in, “You ok there?”

Sitting on your elbows and catching your breath, you nod once and drink in the sight of him drunk on desire and his lips still glistening from the essence of your arousal. Leaning down he connects his lips to yours, letting his tongue play against yours and provide the taste of your own orgasm with a small hum.

Breaking the kiss with a string of saliva connecting you before it lazily snaps, your eyes break contact from his and notice the way his erection was pushing painfully against the denim of his jeans.

You lick your lips at the sight, silently wondering what his pretty cock might look like, “Want me to help you out there?”

Nearly buckling at your words, Megumi shakily exhales and shakes his head before leaning back and tugging off his sweatshirt and under t-shirt in one pull. Toned and lean abs carve his flesh and a dark happy trail begins just below his navel before sinking past the hem of his jeans. The sight is enough for another gush to seep from your pussy and cause your nipples to erect against the fabric of your bra.

“No angel.. But I will definitely take you up on that later.. ‘Cause I think–” he unbuttons his jeans and lets the material fall before kicking them off his legs onto the floor without care, “I might cum the moment I feel your tongue on me.”

You sigh at the sight of his erection straining against his thin cotton boxer briefs, a patch of pre cum staining the gray material even darker. Megumi brings his fingers to the hem of your sweater before pulling it up and above you, eyes lingering on the swell of your tits. Even prettier than he imagined, he dips down to plant open mouth kisses between the valley and wrapping his hands behind your back in an attempt to get the clasp.

After a few failures, you bend your hands behind yourself to release the metal hooks and toss the bra to the corner of his room; Megumi doesn’t bother complaining, now relieved to finally see the tits he’s jerked off to, in person.

Immediately, his lips wrap around your left nipple while his hand lifts to knead the fatty flesh of the other breast. Gentle teeth nip at the hardened bud before sucking a few deep purple hickies around the swell and lower collarbone.

His lips leave a trail of fire, and your hands tug at the roots of his hair when he plants an extra kiss on one breast before swapping to the next.

“Wouldn’t want this one to feel left out.”

You scoff lightly and arch at the sensation of the wet muscle gliding along the sensitive flesh, and the roughness of his hand massaging the smooth skin of your other tit. A few more bruises are sucked onto your chest before Megumi lifts back up and guides you further up the bed to make room for him to climb up and join you.

“Oh wait–” Megumi stands on his knees on the bed and looks around his room, “condom.”

The anticipation of getting a condom and getting railed by the guy you’ve been crushing on, and the guy who’s very appearance causes a gush in your panties, elicits a shiver of excitement. Sighing slightly, he lifts himself off the bed, “I’ll be right back.”

His words are meaningless, as if you were going to leave anyways, and he opens his bedroom door a crack to slip out. Sets of paws against the wooden floorboards can be heard as Megumi shoos his pets away in an attempt to run down the hall to Yuji’s bedroom and dig through his drawers for a rubber.

You take a brief moment to admire his room while he’s away, the tidiness of it all isn’t surprising, but the lack of wall decor and personal memorabilia is. A few posters of bands, notably Weezer, hang on his walls alongside a few photos and awards for his achievements in the veterinary field, but other than that, the room is bare. The color palette is a blue-gray and the only plushies in the entire room are toys for his dogs; a feeling of almost sadness emits from the intense minimalistic aspects of it all. As if he didn’t have anything to fill the walls with, rather than him choosing to leave it completely bare.

“Ah.. shit–” Megumi slips back into the room and struggles to keep his dogs out, “I’ll take you for a walk after..”

After…

The feeling subsides and the anticipation courses through your veins again as Megumi successfully coerces the canines to retreat back to the living room. He shuts the door in success.

“Got it.”

A half smirk that nearly looks out of character is planted on his face while he wastes no time in rushing back up to the bed and positioning himself comfortably over you. Leaning down for another kiss, his erection grinds against your navel, still covered by the thin fabric, but with enough force some of the pre cum smudges onto your flesh.

He sighs at the friction and sits up to shimmy off his boxer briefs and kick them to the floor without care. The happy trail that starts at his navel extends down to the base of his cock into a neat bush of pubic hair; he wasn’t regularly shaving, but still kept things tidy.

Longer than average and slightly thicker than any of your exes, the sight of his dick made the walls of your cunt clench pathetically around nothing. Balls heavy and aching, Megumi wraps his hand around the shaft to give a few pumps before splitting open the foil package and sliding the rubber down his cock.

It takes a few extra tugs before he’s certain it's snug enough, and he nudges your thighs apart with his knees and leans back down into your neck.

“You ready angel?”

“Y-yea.”

You instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders and sink your nails lightly into the flesh of his back as you feel him slowly slide inch by inch inside. The stretch is an erotic burn that, despite the sting, only makes you even hornier for it all.

An uneven breath escapes his lips by the time he bottoms out, taking a moment for you to adjust and Megumi to reel his brain back in to avoid prematurely cumming in only a matter of seconds. You twitch your hips at the feeling of wanting more; his deft hands reach for one of the pillows behind you, and slides it under your hips to make the angle easier to move.

Megumi does a few test strokes before finding a steady rhythm and snapping his hips into yours with a small ‘thawp’ of his balls hitting your ass with every pump.

“Oh shit angel…hnngh.. Better than I ever i-imagined.”

You whine deliciously into his ear and sink a few crescent shapes into his back from the sensation; twitching every time the tuft of pubic hair grinds perfectly against your puffy clit. The sensation is mind numbing and Megumi begins lazily biting at flesh on your neck, pussy drunk from the sensation and devoid of any rationale.

Even with a condom he can feel the way your cunt clenches around him, as if your pussy was molding to the shape of his dick with each thrust. He can’t even imagine hitting it raw, resolving that if you ever let him do that, he might just have to put a ring on your pretty finger.

Over the combined moans and whimpers, the bed frame smacks against the wall in a steady ‘thud, thud, thud’ and the wooden frame creaks from the motion.

“Fuck… Megumi…”

“Yea.. you got it Angel… just haaa.. Keep those pretty hips steady f’me.”

“Megumi! Exam’s over!”

Nearly falling forward and crushing you, Megumi stops all motions while the two of you look at each other in total terror. Despite the cockblock of his roommate and potentially getting caught balls deep inside you, his cock twitches inside aching for release; you dig your nails into his shoulder in worry.

Nobara’s shoes can be heard clacking on the wooden floor next to Yuji in the kitchen, “Hmm two mugs.. But the content is kinda cold… did they go out for a walk?”

“The dogs are here though…”

Megumi hunches over you pathetically and grinds his hips without pulling out before you usher him to back up. He follows your instruction and slides out, watching as you scurry off the bed and gently get on the floor, bringing a pillow for your hips. Eyes wide in understanding that on the floor the bed frame wouldn’t be making any noise, Megumi follows suit and positions himself between your legs again.

This is bad. So very bad. If Yuji heard you two, there was no chance hell either one of you would ever hear the end of it. But… the way you look up at Megumi and spread your legs wanting and waiting for him to continue is enough to disregard any worry.

Sighing at the feeling of your cunt wrapping perfectly around his cock once more, Megumi lifts your ankles to rest upright on his shoulders and begins thrusting again. Not pulling out all the way, his strokes are shallow but forceful, still kissing your cervix with every movement; he plants chaste kisses on your ankles before moving a hand to cover your mouth when a whimper threatens to escape.

“I guess they aren’t home?”

“Oh!” Yuji’s hands can be heard clapping through the door, “He probably finally took her to that cafe! You know I felt so bad the other day, but Megumi would kill us if we took Y/N there before he could ask her out.”

You look at Megumi and nudge the side of his face with your foot in a half-heartwarming and half-teasing manner before he pinches your sole with his fingers. Despite the truth being poured out by his best friends just outside the door, his thrusts are getting more erratic and an orgasm quickly builds in his abdomen.

To even the situation, Megumi slides a hand down further and rubs quick circles against your click, quickly ‘shushing’ you when whines escape your lips in pleasure.

Shit. He was about to cum. About to cum with his fucking friends outside his bedroom door listening.

“Well– Let’s get food then too! Maybe steak?”

Nobara can be heard walking to the front door again and scoffing, “No way– let’s get sushi.”

The pair can be heard grumbling between each other before the front door eventually ‘clicks’ and you're left in silence again.

Immediately, Megumi picks up the pace and rubs quick circles against your clit before pushing your legs off his shoulders and splaying your thighs. Long and harder strokes leave his pelvis smacking your clit, and your head leans back in pleasure at the sensation of his cock smacking into that rough patch over and over.

“Yea angel… cum.. Please– cum on my cock”

As if his words could force the action, the coil building in your gut inevitably snaps and you lean your head into the carpet of his floor and moan out his name.

“Y-Yea.. Just like that.. Fuck.. Y/N.. gonna fucking c-cum” A few more erratic thrusts and Megumi shudders as he cums hot ropes of semen into the rubber of the condom, admiring the cream of your orgasm getting pushed up his shaft to sit at the base. The sight, sound, and smell are so errotic there’s nearly a haze in the atmosphere from the intensity of it all.

Megumi thrusts a few more times with a weak exhale before slipping out of your cunt and hunching over on his knees to slip the condom off. You wearily look around and wince at the empty feeling before sitting up and wiping a few drops of sweat off your tits.

“Oh sorry,” Megumi tosses the soiled rubber into his bedroom trash and rubs the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead, “didn’t mean to drip on you.”

“Hah, it’s alright. Just help me up and we’ll be even.”

Nearly in a mirrored pose reversing the roles of you both today, Megumi pulls you by the hand to stand upright and supports your waist when you nearly topple over. A chaste kiss against your temple, he sets you straight and pushes a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Let’s shower, yea?”

“Mmm good idea, we probably need it.”

Megumi takes a quick peek out of his room before swinging the door open wide and shuffling down the hallway and towards the bathroom with his hand in yours. Both dogs follow suit, but leave space for you to enter the washroom and shut the door.

You giggle slightly as the slight bruises from earlier litter his toned thighs, and Megumi bends at the waist to start the water of the shower and check the temperature. He ensures it’s not too hot and offers you a hand while you both step over the ceramic tub and behind the plastic curtain.

It’s a different level of intimacy than earlier, no longer sexual but still incredibly vulnerable and raw. Megumi wets his hair and shimmies to the side to let you do the same before passing various bottles of shampoo and soap to use; popping the cap, you inhale the familiar scent he usually wears.

“So… that was.. amazing.”

“I agree–” you rinse off soap suds from your arms, “–now what?”

“What do you mean?”

A slight burn goes across your cheeks as you shrug, it’s not like you had the what exactly are we? talk beforehand.

Megumi admires the way water cascades down your body and tilts his head to the side, “I was honest earlier when I said you’re more than just a friend to me… and I by no means see what we just did as casual. To be honest, it pisses me off to even think of this as being anything but exclusive.”

“Sooo.. you want to date? Like.. date-date?”

Megumi looks at you as if it were the simplest question possible, “I do. I want to go places with you and watch the way people look at us. To hear you introduce me to your friends as not just ‘Megumi’ but as your boyfriend.”

You nod in agreement, “I’d like that too.. Though I have a feeling you would rather call me angel.”

“Oh that..” Megumi coughs and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly before moving to change the conversation and stepping out of the shower, “is the water ok? I’ll step out and grab you some towels and a change of clothes.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips as you watch him shake his hair off from side to side like a dog and wrap a towel around his delicious ‘V’ line before stepping out of the bathroom. Enjoying the warmth of the water on your bullied skin for a few extra minutes, you stay behind the curtain before turning the faucet off and hearing a short courtesy knock at the door.

Megumi shuffles in, now dressing in casual athleisure, and uses a free leg to push the dogs back before placing a stack of towels on the counter and a fresh set of sweatpants and t-shirt on the toilet lid. Despite just seeing you naked, his eyes avoid looking at your body as you towel dry and slip into the clothes.

“Ok… I think I get it now–” He throws your towel on the corner of the door to try and admires his ‘veterinary department’ university t-shirt and JJK frat sweatpants on your frame, “the whole.. Wearing your partners’ clothes, thing.”

You smile at him and lean forward to meet his lips gently, his mouth immediately chasing yours as if he needed it to breathe and pouting once you exit and head down the hall. Christmas movie still playing on the TV, you plop down on the sofa and immediately curl into Megumi’s chest when he positions himself next to you.

Back against his chest, head on his collarbone, and legs intertwined with his, the both of you watch the cheesy film as a light snow and wind pick up outside the window. One of the dogs climbs up and rests on the empty sofa cushion next to both of you while the other lays in a ball at the base of the couch comfortably.

It’s a comfortable silence, and the steady beat of Megumi’s heart is nearly enough to lull you to sleep.

“Well? What do you think of this movie?”

Megumi shifts his weight and settles his hand just under your shirt to rub mindless patterns into the softness of your flesh, still relishing in the idea of having you all to himself, “I think I like them now.”

“Really?”

“Yea..”

You remain comfy in his arms before Megumi continues, “I guess I just never had anyone to relate them to, so I figured they were wild overestimations of how it would feel.”

“Hmm? How what would feel?”

Megumi stops tracing your waist and settles to squeeze your body further into his, almost as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

“This. Having someone.. Having you.”

You look up at his words and trace his jaw with your finger to usher him into your lips; he immediately connects them happily. Gently leaning in and feeling him stiffen at the action for a potential round 2, a loud grumble emits from your stomach.

“Whoops.. Hahah guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

Megumi genuinely laughs lightly and your heart melts at the sound as he sits upright, “Come on let’s eat then… I have to take you to that cafe.”

“The one we heard Yuji mention?”

Megumi rolls his eyes at your slight tease but smiles at you, “Yea, I actually had planned on taking you there on a date.”

“Well, you would be.”

Megumi keeps you trapped in his arms despite just proposing to get up and get food, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’re dating, and you’d be taking me there.. so it’s a date.”

There’s a slight exhale that leaves his lips before he squeezes you just a bit tighter and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “mmm I guess you're right. It’s only fair to take my girlfriend out on a date.”

TY for reading the first installment of the Holiday Hoes! Frat AU JJK one shot series!!

most fics in this will be roughly this length and all in the same AU with some hints at the next few themes hidden in this one :)

writing megumi was lowkey harder than I thot, and i appreciate all comments/reblogs/likes

╰(´︶`)╯♡ -oatmeal

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #Megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro Megumi x reader #Megumi x reader smut #fushiguro x reader smut #fushiguro Megumi x reader smut #oatmealwords #oatmealwrites #oatmealwordsmegumi #oatmealwordsjjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut

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forlix · 1 year ago

Text

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying?

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile.

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES. From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket.

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge.

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being.

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair.

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each.

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

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killergee · 4 months ago

Text

Biggest Fan

Summary: Just as Mina inspired and motivated others to join the force, you were that person for Hoshina. Although you weren’t as popular as her, Hoshina still thought you shined the brightest.

@imthecosmicbasball thank you for the request! I accidentally posted the draft responding to your request before it was ready so I deleted it and lost the ask message. But reader is a sword user like Mitsuri from demon slayer (ahh I love her too!).

Tagslist: @alwaysalilconfused

------------------------------

Hoshina joined the defense force for many reasons. To prove himself. To stick it to his brother. To help the greater good.

Of course, these were the answers he’d say if someone were to ask him. The answers he’d say out loud with a light and easy tone. But deep down there was a different answer that he kept only to himself. There was something else that made him join. Someone else.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still remember that day clearly. The roaring sounds of kaijus surrounding him. The overbearing scent of ash and rubble. The bitter frustration that he was going to die before even getting the chance to join the defense force.

He had never felt so helpless and angry at the world that day.

But that wasn't all he remembered. No, he also remembers the strong gaze, the reassuring voice, and most of all, the long sword in your hands.

Not a gun.

But a sword that looked and moved like a ribbon.

“You alright there?” he heard you ask him as you held out your hand to him. At that moment, the buzzing in his ears stopped along with the sounds of the kaijus. His survival instincts told him to check if they were dead, but for some reason, just from being with you, he knew he was safe. He felt it.

At your question, he nodded his head, but his throat was too dry to say anything. "Good, help is on the way. Stay here," you ordered before jumping back into the fray.

The way you fought could be mistaken for dancing. Nothing about you made sense. The almost unnatural strength that exuded from you. The way your steel blade moved like a whip.

You were beautiful.

Secretly, seeing you made him think he could do it. That he could still make it as a sword user despite what everyone told him.

So he kept you in his heart after that day.

When he finally became an officer, he found out you were a platoon leader in a different division. Despite feeling a bit sullen, his admiration for you never faltered. He tried to look up any videos of you or any information about you on the internet, but it always turned up empty. He thought you would be more popular, but the attention was all on Mina Ashiro, the rising star and the force’s most promising officer. She had garnered quite the fan base, and Hoshina couldn’t help but be impressed.

But still, even if there was no one out there, he’d still be your fan.

That was years ago, and now you were a captain just like Ashiro. Revered and admired, you became a dependable figure for your division even if Captain Ashiro and Captain Narumi remained the stars of the defense force. So, when Mina had to go on business to headquarters for a week, you were chosen to fill her spot. As your division was close to the Third Division, you were assigned to oversee the third division just to make sure everything stayed in order.

Before you arrived, he promised himself that he wouldn't get starstruck. Yet, as you walked into the room, he knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself. You were as beautiful as the day he met you. A little more hardened but also a little more confident. Your years of experience showed in the way you carried yourself, and you wore your scars like a badge of honour. Your strong gaze added an air of allure, and he couldn't be bothered to be less obvious about staring.

You stood at the front of the room, hands rested on the podium. "Starting from today, I will be acting as Captain of the Third Division until Captain Ashiro returns. If needed, please defer your problems to your Vice Captain before reaching out to me."

Your speech was curt and you wasted no time before dismissing everyone and exiting the room yourself. Had Hoshina not immediately chased after you, he might have lost you.

“Captain l/n, it is an honour to meet you.” Hoshina introduced himself, holding out his hand towards you.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before you returned his gesture. “No need to be so formal. I look forward to working with you, Vice-Captain."

He nearly huffed out a laugh at your own stiffness and formality but decided against it.

“Alrighty, Captain. Whatever you say,” Hoshina grinned. With his hands clasped behind his back, he looked around the hallway to see that everyone had dispersed.

“I’m actually a big fan of yours,” Hoshina admitted out loud for the first time.

Taken aback by his declaration, "uh, thanks?" was the awkward response that unceremoniously fell out of your mouth. A slight blush covered your face and neck as your eyes focused on anything but the man standing in front of you.

Your reaction revealed to Hoshina two things. One: you were not used to receiving this kind of praise before, which saddens Hoshina to no end, and two: Hoshina liked seeing you blush.

Despite how tough you looked; You were surprisingly shy when it came to compliments. A bit embarrassed, too. Scratch that a lot.

Who would Hoshina be if he did nothing with this information?

This time, Hoshina did let a small chuckle escape. “Would you like a tour of the base?”

Your eyes shifted to his for a bit before you responded, “yes, that would be nice.”

Despite making sure to turn his charms all the way up, you were mainly stoic for the most part. You kept your commentary and questions to a minimum—choosing to follow him quietly. But your eyes did have a kind of sparkle to them when he said something funny, and your small smiles that would slip through made him irrationally happy.

The contrast between you on vs. off the field wasn't something he expected. Yet, he found it strangely endearing. You weren't as perfect as he thought, and that somehow made you even better in his eyes.

When he dropped you back at your temporary office, he couldn’t help but speak about his discoveries.

"Captain, I never knew you were so awkward."

"I, uh, don't know how to respond to that."

"It's really cute," he remarked before leaving you alone in your office.

"... what just happened."

---------------------------------------------------

Hoshina thought that the relationship that was developing between the two of you was going great. Others, however, would say your interactions looked more like that of a haggard but nervous cat and an energetic puppy.

“Hey, Cap’, where ya going? Come eat with me.”

“…”

“Hey, hey don't be awkward around me, Cap’. I'll get hurt.”

“…”

“Captain, I can't wait to go on a mission with you.”

You let out a tired breath. “You know most people dread going on missions.”

Grinning from ear to ear at your response, Hoshina continued. “I just want to see you in action again.”

“Right...Okay,” you responded hesitantly, unsure how to handle the situation. “Is this how Mina feels with all her fangirls,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

What’s worse was that Hoshina’s enthusiasm seemed to rub off onto the rest of the division.

“Captain, please spar with me!”

“After Kafka I would also like to spar!”

“Captain, how do you sheathe your sword?”

“Captain!”

“Why is everyone in the third division so weird?” You huffed to yourself but nonetheless accepted their requests and answered their questions.

It wasn't that you minded the attention. You just weren't used to it. You were used to simple greetings from your officers and the occasional 'how are yous.' Your division only talked to you when necessary, and you were happy with the arrangement.

(Your division actually loves you, but they know you're socially awkward, so they try to make you comfortable by limiting their interactions. Which, although well-intended, has not helped you develop your social skills at all. In fact, it has only enabled you to be more reclusive.)

Ever since you came to the third division, however, it has been a completely different story. They seemed to have made it their life mission to torment to know everything about you before you left. They didn't know when to leave you alone, and you were so close to just locking yourself in a closet somewhere to get some peace and quiet.

"Ah, it looks like you managed to escape to your office. Mind if I join you?"

You looked up from your office to see Hoshina already closing the door behind him.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

"Is there something you needed?"

"Nah, just wanted to hang out with you."

"Right...for like...fun?"

"Pffft, yea, I guess you can say that. You're leaving soon, so I'm just getting my fill."

It takes everything in you not to drop your jaw in disbelief at his statement. Hoshina has been tormentor no.1 since you've arrived. Sticking to your side like glue, he's been the most adamant at getting his moneys worth with your temporary placement.

Despite all of this, however, you surprisingly didn't really mind his presence.

"None of you guys seem to realize I'm only here to act as a shadow and oversee things." You said re-reading a report to busy yourself. "You'll gain nothing from sucking up to me."

"Eh? I don't think anyone's trynna suck up to you," Hoshina responded, plopping down onto the chair in front of your desk. "Everyone just thinks you're cool, and they just want to tell you that." They also probably enjoy seeing how flustered you get, but that's a thought Hoshina kept to himself.

"I don't need praise or recognition." You rebutted, embarrassed.

"Maybe, but it's nice, isn't it?"

"Hmm." You contemplated his words for a moment. It's true that the constant praises, questions, and attention made your head spin, yet they weren't all that bad. "I suppose."

The silence that settled in the room after your statement made you uneasy. Sneaking a glance at him, he appeared to be lost in thought or something as he stared up at the ceiling. Your own Vice Captain always commented on how socially awkward you were and how you were never able to understand social cues. Was this one of those moments? Was he remaining silent because he was waiting for you to say something? The silence was eating at you so you just said the first thing that came to your mind.

"Would... you also like some praise?"

Kill me now, you thought to yourself as Hoshina only stared at you in response. You should've just stayed silent. The third division's chatty attitude had infected you, and you were gonna kill your Vice Captain for-

Hoshina bursted out laughing, clutching his stomach with his arms. "Thank you for the offer, but I think I might faint if you praise me," he managed to say between laughs.

What does that even mean?

"Right..." You leaned back against your chair, shoulders less tensed now that the room was filled with the sounds of his laughter. It wasn't a bad sound.

Resting his head on his hand, he stared at you intently. "From all the videos and photos of you on the field, I would've never known how socially awkward you were."

"Thanks," you responded flatly. You raised the report to cover your face which was definitely sulking.

"Makes me want to know what else there is to ya." Leaning over the desk, he gently lowers the report and you're forced to look at him. "Go out with me?"

Yeah...everyone in the third division is weird, alright.

#hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #kaiju no.8 fanfic #kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju no. 8 #self insert #y/n

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