#vabo fanfic

[acopenhagenarmy]

Pairing Taehyung x reader 

abo!au - werewolf!au - magical!au

wordcount: 1099 

warnings: none for this chapter 

summary: he is haunted by the white wolf that occupy his dreams, but the mere thought of seeking out his mate scares him. Because what if you only were a dream? 

Part one 

Comment: What a hiatus huh? I’ve been gone for a while, havent updated, but i needed to find myself and my writing style. This is something I’ve been working for on quiet some time. Both writing and rewriting. I kind of like it. But as always, let me know what you think! Don’t be a silent reader, I really appreciate all the feedback. 

Taglist: 

He could feel the ground beneath his paws, and the cold winter breeze in his dark fur coat as he ran through the forest, underneath the pale light of that month's full moon. The subtle scent of summer rain and sandalwood was what had made him bail his brothers on their midnight run in the forest surrounding their family’s territory. 

He was still a cub. Still not strong enough to pick a fight with rogues or intruders, but his senses were better than most wolves his age and his curiosity was once again stronger than the fear of being killed. 

As he ran towards the clearing where he could hear the two wolves, they were closer to him now. They almost danced through the night as they chased each other onto the frozen lake. They were playing, having fun. He watched them as their crystal white fur made them shine as white as the snow around them or the full moon above them. 

They looked like two angels, two mythical creatures that shouldn’t be disturbed. So, he didn’t. Instead, he watched them from the shadows.

He was woken up abruptly by the sound of his brother pounding on his door. The dream always ended there, that was no surprise. The memory of that night by the lake was both crystal clear and hazy at the same time. He never knew how he’d gotten home, in fact no one did. His parents had sent out a search team that night after his brothers had returned without him. Only to find him in human form, tucked into bed in the early morning hours.

He stretched his arms above his head and scratched his eyes before yawning loudly. There was nothing in this world he hated as much as early morning runs. “YAH! Tae hurry up or I’ll send Jin up with a bucket” his brother Namjoon yelled when he didn’t get a reply from the youngest of the three. Taehyung shivered by the thought of the ice-cold water that had woken him more than once throughout his relatively short life. 

“I’m up! I’m up! No need for that today. Goddess...” he could hear a chuckle from his brother that was already halfway down the stairs. He knew he needed to hurry if he wanted anything to eat before their 50km morning run. He’d of course win no matter what, he always did, but he could use the extra energy since his two elders always tried to beat him.

He walked downstairs, his eyes still adjusting to the bright morning sun as he felt his stomach growl. His mother laughed, a loving and kind sound, as he stepped into the giant kitchen. Him and his closest family all lived in a huge house made by the very trees that had once stood in its place.

Their family had an open door policy, so wolves, both young and old would be coming and going throughout the day both to hang out, but also to get help from their Alpha and Luna.

“Same dream as always?” Seokjin said from the table near the big windows that were overlooking the terrace. 

Taehyung sighed as he answered: “you know it brother, nothing’s changed” 

His mother looked at her youngest with sympathetic eyes, as Seokjin rolled his own at his statement.

“I told you guys you should’ve forced him to see a therapist. White wolves... he might as well have told us all he’d been kidnapped by fairies” their mother quickly turned as she threw a waffle at the broad-shouldered man. He yelled out dramatically, earning attention from both his father and Namjoon as they walked in. 

“You don’t joke about fairies Seokjin, not as long as you live under my roof” his mother said with a stern look in her eyes. 

“You never know if they’re listening in, and none of us need that kind of bad luck. As for you my dear” she said as she walked over to Taehyung, “whatever creature, white wolf or fairy, you saw that night, you’re one lucky man. You were touched by the goddess that night, and that is a blessing” 

She ruffled his dark locks, showing off the patch of white hair that had appeared in the back of his neck after that midnight run, so many years ago. 

“Are the three of you done discussing the creatures of the night? We need to get going if we wanna make time for a good run before we leave” Namjoon asked from the place he had leaned against the dark marble countertop. 

Seokjin smiled smugly, as the sun broke the tree line surrounding the house, making him look almost as golden as his eyes. He quickly rose from his seat pushing Namjoon on the way out the door. He quickly followed him, determined to get a head start. 

Taehyung on the other hand didn’t rush, he took a bite of the waffle his mother had made for him and gave her a peck on the cheek before he whispered a quiet thank you. He then slowly strutted out the kitchen and down the hall out the front door, with such confidence that made both of his parents’ smile. 

The two of them were proud of their boys. They had raised them right. They were respectful to their elders and kind to those younger than them. Every day the three of them made their hearts burst with both pride and love. Their mother sighed before she whispered, a subtle question that only her husband was supposed to hear. 

“Do you think he’ll ever recover from that night Ji-hoon? Do you think the dreams of that night will ever stop haunting him?” 

Ji-hoon pulled his mate close to his chest as he nuzzled his head in the crook of her neck, the place he had marked her 20 years earlier. He breathed in her scent of vanilla and mango, the only thing in this world that could make both him and his wolf calm. 

“I have no idea Jee, I just hope that what ever happened to him that night, will one day bring him joy” 

They looked out the grand windows watching their youngest son turn into his wolf form in a millisecond, before he sprinted toward the edge of where the forest began. He was so fast and so determined to once again beat his brothers, that he looked more like a shadow than a wolf. The two parents stood in the window and looked at their youngest disappear, a little sting of worry in both of their hearts.

[elleskandal]

match my freak

Rintarou has been reading "RPF - Volleyball" fanfic and it makes his life a little complicated when he develops feelings for Motoya because of it.

🏐 words: 7.2k

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/59996212 (or read below)

🏐 🏐 🏐 🏐 🏐

“Did you know about the fan fiction?” Rintarou looked down at his phone as he waited for Motoya to finish getting dressed after practice.

“Yeah? What about it?” Motoya had heard of fan fiction, who hadn’t?

“The fan fiction about us,” Rintarou responded deadpan, now looking up from his phone. He wanted to see Motoya’s reaction to this. It took a second for it to compute.

“Fan fiction about… us?” Motoya pointed between the two of them.

“Yup.” Rintarou popped the p and raised his chin so he could look down his nose. He was lucky he had a good poker face because he was relishing this conversation.

“And?” Motoya’s eyes had started to bug out a little.

“And what?” Rintarou raised his eyebrows. He knew what Motoya was asking but he wanted to tease him.

“What’s it like?” Rintarou couldn’t see Motoya’s face as he put his gear in his locker.

Rintarou had already read most of the fic he could find on that cursed site. He had stumbled upon it when he was scouring his digital footprint. He had wanted to engage with his fans and when one accidentally tagged him directly instead of a fan account when talking about their latest story, he couldn’t help but check it out. He kind of spiraled from there.

He had seen that he was “shipped” with a couple of people in the v.League circuit. He saw one crack fic with him and vabo-chan which he had to admit was hilarious. Then he stumbled upon a story with Atsumu, which, made him grimace. The guy was objectively attractive, but if he had to imagine dating his best friend, he may vomit. So he avoided those. Then there was Aran, which is valid. They went to high school together, were kouhai/sempai, could even be seen as rivals, and the man was hot. He read a couple of those, but it got a little weird when they got too spicy. He just couldn’t picture it. He realized Aran was like a brother. So he checked out of that ship.

But when he found the fics that featured him and Motoya… everything changed. At first, it was funny. He felt like he needed a bucket of popcorn to eat while he indulged — he read through stories about how they celebrated their wins, supported each other through losses, took care of each other when they were sick, or pined after one another when their backs were turned. In some, they weren’t even volleyball players! They worked at coffee shops, wielded magic, ruled kingdoms, managed corporations, or were single parents.

However, his brain broke and was — possibly, probably, definitely — rewired when he read the ones marked E. He thought those were “E for Everyone,” like the video games. Boy, was he wrong. Sending each other to subspace, being alphas and omegas, and worst of all, when they were soulmates. It made him start to rethink his relationship with Motoya and his relationship with love in general.

Rintarou had never particularly thought he was a romantic, but reading about how so many people thought he was soulmates with one of his best friends? How so many analyzed their interviews and interactions, writing fiction around them getting together? Having sex and making love? It made him think. A lot.

Motoya closed his locker. Rintarou was leaning against his, spacing out. Motoya had to repeat his question a few times, waving in his face. “Hello? Earth to Sunarin. I said, what’s it like?”

“I guess you’ll have to read it, huh,” Rintarou smirked at that. He would actually like it if Motoya read it. He brought it up to plant that little seed in his mind. He wanted his teammate to suffer the same way he had over the past several months, falling down this deep dark hole. Suffer in how he found it difficult to look Motoya in the eye—he often had to look away from him in the locker room too and when he saw beads of sweat drip down Motoya’s neck after games? He had to suffer through the thoughts of licking them off.

Worst case, they could have a laugh together at the idea of Rintarou as Motoya’s assistant, knight Rintarou saving Prince Motoya, mob boss Rintarou purchasing debtor Motoya, or whatever other scenario their fans spun up. Best case, well… Rin didn’t think that would actually happen. This wasn’t a fan fiction, after all.

So Rintarou planted the idea. But he wondered if it was a mistake as he choked on his blue electrolyte-infused water that evening following the text he received.

>> What are alpha/beta/omega dynamics?

It was too soon for that. Couldn’t Motoya start simpler, something light and easy? Slice of life, maybe? This was like giving a kid the birds-and-the-bees talk.

And then the phone started ringing, Motoya’s name lighting up the screen. Rin just stared at it until it stopped, but when he got another text, he knew he was fucked.

>> Suna, pick up. I know you just saw that text!

Damn read receipts. He should turn those off. He liked to keep them off to make a point that he was being an asshole though.

His phone started ringing again and he had no choice but to pick up. He knew that gremlin would just keep calling.

“What do you want, Komori?” He sighed.

“So rude,” Motoya quipped.

“Okay, now that I have you on the phone. I’m looking at the fanfic you told me about,” he paused, “they have these tags and I don’t know what some of them are. Like knotting.”

Rintarou placed his fingers on his forehead to steady himself and closed his eyes. He was glad this wasn’t a video call. He’s not sure he would be able to look Motoya in the face. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it together.

“You have Google.” Rintarou thought his heart would give out if he had to explain any omegaverse concept to Motoya.

“But sometimes it doesn’t explain nuances. Like when I looked up alpha/beta/omega, it just told me it was a part of the Greek alphabet or when a man is like macho or whatever. That’s not correct, right? I just don’t want to go into these not knowing what they are.“

Rintarou sighed. “Fine. That trope is like a dominance hierarchy. Alphas are usually the most dominant, while omegas are submissive. But maybe read those after experiencing something a little… tamer. Anything else?”

“Tamer? Sounds like you’re warning me away from the good stuff!” Rintarou could just imagine the way Motoya’s cute little eyebrows were dancing across his face.

“I just think you might want to ease your way in.” He sighed. Maybe this was a bad idea. Thinking about Motoya reading something so explicit made him warm—no, hot—he was getting very hot in the face.

“Uhh huh. With what kind of stuff? Do you have favorites? How much of it have you read?” He could hear the smile in Motoya’s voice. Damn him. He had suggested the fanfic because he wanted Motoya to suffer just like he was, but it seemed like Rintarou was going through it even worse now. He should have known.

Rintarou tipped his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Start with literally anything else. How about the ones based on Taylor Swift songs?” He avoided the question of how many he had read—he did not want to address that—or if he had favorites. He couldn’t send those over. Not yet at least.

“Cool. I’ll see if I can find them. I’m looking forward to learning what some of these words mean too. It’s like a whole new language…” Motoya trailed off. Rintarou swore he could hear him mumbling through the tags he was reading like dead dove, water sports, and selfcest. He had to get off this call. Now.

“Uh huh.” Rintarou’s eyes unfocused as he stared. He was about to dissociate.

“Okay, talk to you later!” Motoya thankfully hung up.

He went to his room and face planted into his bed.

—

About a year ago, Motoya had to console Kiyoomi through one of his many crises. This particular one’s cause? Fan fiction.

Someone on his team had found a particularly entertaining one and sent it out through the group chat—its subject matter, Atsumu. Kiyoomi wanted to clown on him like the others, who had all read it. It was an ode. To Atsumu’s tongue. The guys had not been able to stop quoting it, not that Atsumu’s ego needed it. Of course, in “retaliation,” Atsumu’s tongue remained outside of his mouth more than normal, which was already an absurd amount of time.

The real problem was the way the words of the fic burrowed themselves into Kiyoomi’s mind and created some kind of Pavlovian effect between that tongue and how he felt when he had read that stupid work of fiction. Because it was fiction—he had to keep telling himself that. Nothing written about his tongue was true, right? Right?

Every time Kiyoomi saw a flash of pink dart of out Atsumu’s mouth, his mind rebooted and powered up horny.exe, a virus implanted inside of him, which was rotting and melting his brain. He knew it was a problem when a ball from Atsumu hit him in the face during practice. He hoped the bloody nose it gave him would cause the stupidity to leak out of his mind, but alas, no luck—it only made it worse. Atsumu hovered around him, licking his lips in trepidation. That’s when he had to get some free psychotherapy from Motoya.

“I can’t keep going on like this, Motoya.”

“Hm, my mom would probably prescribe exposure therapy or something,” Motoya said offhandedly.

Motoya’s mother was a psychologist so he knew some of her treatments and exercises, but more often than not, he was talking out of his ass. That said, they had tried exposure therapy on Kiyoomi as a kid for his various neuroses. It worked to keep him from bringing his obsessive compulsion into volleyball.

“You’re a genius. I’ll read all the fan fiction I can find of Miya.” Motoya could hear the smile in his voice. Oh no.

“Uh, that’s not exactly what I was thinking. How—“

His cousin cut him off, “Look at what I found. Texted it to you. See ya.”

Motoya pulled his phone away from his face and looked at the link in his texts. When he clicked on it, it brought him to the page Volleyball RPF — Komori Motoya, listing every fic about him and his colleagues that he was tagged in.

“I hate you!” He was sure that Kiyoomi had not heard him before he hung up. It didn’t matter. He was stuck now. He was Schrödinger’s Fanfic Reader.

Like in Schrödinger’s thought experiment, Motoya was the cat—he was just as curious, so how could he not click on the link and dive deeper? To Kiyoomi (our modern-day Schrödinger), Motoya was both the reader and non-reader, now stuck in a box. Maybe if he never spoke of this again though, no one would ever know that he had actually died inside once he found those fics. He died and was reborn as someone new, someone who had read very explicit sex scenes between himself and his best friend; scenes that he couldn’t forget, scenes that he didn’t exactly want to forget.

But unfortunately, Suna Rintarou opened the box and Motoya was now officially dead, reborn as a fanfic reader. Even if he didn’t bring the subject up, it wouldn’t have made it any less true, but he could have continued pretending. He could still continue pretending—He didn’t have to let Rintarou know that he knew about it all just yet.

It’s not like Rintarou knew he let Motoya out of this metaphorical box—so Motoya could still pretend for a bit. He spent all that time in the box alone, accumulating all that knowledge. He should put it to use. This could be fun, actually.

—

“Sunarin! I can’t wait to tell you about what I found out.” Motoya clapped his hands. They were undressing to head to the showers after practice. “Knotting is like when a wolf—“

Rintarou slammed his locker and blinked his eyes slowly at Motoya in disbelief. “Let’s, uh, talk about it later.” He looked around to make sure no one else had heard Motoya. He did not want to talk about the myriad of alternate universes where they were together, all of them except here. He especially did not want to talk about the explicit versions of those universes (and whether he had an ever-expanding dick or not in them). He did not want to talk about how they had changed him and how he couldn’t look at Motoya the same way, and how— 

“Sure. How about we grab dinner?”

“In public?” Rintarou’s voice was a little high. Maybe his poker face was cracking. Maybe he was losing it.

“Yes?” Motoya laughed as he brushed past Rintarou. Where they touched burned. Rintarou looked over his shoulder as he kept walking to the showers. “Or we could get takeout.”

“Takeout. Let’s do takeout.” Rintarou nodded and followed him to the showers.

Somewhere in the last two months, Rintarou had to stop walking to the showers with Motoya. He couldn’t look at the lean muscles of his back rippling as he walked or the little trail of stomach hair that begged his eyes to drop lower without wanting to slam his head into a wall. Otherwise, he’d have a worse problem on his hands. Today, however, he had other things on his mind.

As he sudsed up, Rintarou couldn’t decide whether takeout actually was a good idea. Talking about dubcon and cannibalism and whatever other stuff—kinky or otherwise—that Motoya wanted to throw at him could not be done in public. Then again, he thought about talking about it alone in his apartment and wondered if he was actually, truly fucked. He felt like he was on some kind of prank show. Maybe someone will jump out and yell “PUNKED!” at him if he’s lucky. But then he reminded himself that this was all of his own making.

He needed advice. Who the hell could he call about this? Didn’t Atsumu say he had read fanfic before? Maybe he’d understand. He finished up quickly and told Motoya he would meet him outside; he had a call to return.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up. Heyyy!” Rintarou paced around the side of the EJP training center, away from the door.

“Hey, bitch. Whaddaya want?” Atsumu answered and Rintarou breathed a sigh or relief. He normally would banter but he didn’t have much time until Motoya came out.

“I have a problem,” Rintarou said flatly.

“Okay? And? Be quiet, Omi. Sunarin’s upset.”

“I’m not upset,” he huffed.

“Spill.”

Knowing Sakusa was there did not make Rintarou feel good about asking for help from Atsumu, but he didn’t know what to do. Maybe if he was vague he wouldn’t let on his issue was about Motoya.

“I, uh, shit. I read all this fanfic about me and a friend and it fucked me up. I think… I like them.”

“Oh shit! Who? A teammate? Is it me?” Atsumu snickered. The jerk.

“It's not you, you ass. It doesn’t matter who it is.” Rintarou ran a hand through his wet hair and tried to fluff it up so he didn’t look like a wet dog with Motoya later. “What do I do?”

“Well, Omi and I read fic to each other sometimes. It’s pretty hot. It really gets him goin’.”

“Ew. Stop.” Rintarou didn’t want to know about their sex lives.

“Okay, okay. We also read them because we may’ve found a funny one or somethin’ cute, ya know?” Rintarou did know. He had read some tooth-rottingly fluffy fics. “You could share one that shows what ya wanna convey. Like from yer heart? If ya like ‘em like that? It could be a good way to take it to the next level, if that’s what ya want.”

“What the fuck? Did you just give me good advice?” Rintarou was honestly kind of stunned. He didn’t expect much but maybe dating Sakusa had matured him.

“Yer an asshole.” Then Atsumu hung up on him. Well, he kind of deserved it. He texted him a thank you though.

When he went to the front of the building, Motoya was waiting for him. “I ordered for us.” He held up his phone. “I got you those noodles you like from Botan’s.

“Thanks.” Rintarou didn’t let his emotion show. Motoya cared enough to remember what he liked and it made him a little gooey inside.

“So, do you have a favorite fic?” Motoya asked him as they walked to get dinner.

“Hm,” Rintarou had to think for a minute. “There’s a couple that I like.” He felt a little embarrassed to admit it, but he had to give a little to get a little.

“Me too.” Motoya didn’t elaborate and it left him wondering.

They walked in pointed silence after that and got their food. All the while, Rintarou thought about which one, or multiple, he’d want to share. His hands felt a little clammy and he wondered if Motoya could sense his jitters.

As he dug into his meal at home—Nikumiso Hiyamugi—mixing the minced pork into the noodles, he texted a link to Motoya. He had steeled himself on his walk back with a few retorts based on what Motoya might think. He could say he liked the way the slow burn was executed, how good the writing was, or even how the writer nailed their personalities.

Despite all that, he hadn’t primed Motoya to receive the fic but figured he’d be the first to share, before he had to talk about the omegaverse again, as that’s all the guy seemed to want to discuss, or god forbid get into the topic of what he could find in dead dove fics.

He wasn’t sure whether Motoya choking on his food was a good or bad thing. He tried to analyze his face for any giveaways—Rintarou was good at doing so on the court, but found Motoya could hide his true intention in everyday life almost as well as himself.

—

Motoya had to admit that maybe he was in over his head. When he clicked on the link Rintarou had sent him, he wasn’t expecting much—a silly alternate universe, a light-hearted slice of life, or something overtly raunchy. He could deal with all of those, easily. What he couldn’t deal with was this.

Why did his heart stop? Why did his stomach churn? Why did Rintarou send this of all of the things written about them?

What he was staring at was a fic with the following tags: getting together, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, love confessions, they’re so in love your honor.

Motoya needed to stall. “Do you want me to read this now?” To be fair, this fic was kind of long. It would take him a few hours to read it… if he hadn’t read it already. Which he had, and it was utterly gooey and romantic. And it was Rintarou’s favorite?

“Aren’t you going to send me one too?” Rintarou stuffed some noodles into his mouth.

Motoya did not want to send him stories yet, not when Rintarou was sending him stories like this. Was it because he thought of their relationship like this or because he legitimately liked this kind of story? The guy didn’t seem like he’d be into romance, but what did he know? So he made up an excuse for now.

“I’m still pretty new to this, so I don’t know a ton of them. I need to get familiar with more of them before I can do that.”

“Didn’t you want to brag about what you found out earlier?” Rintarou cocked his head to the side and smirked. “You had to have read something.”

“Oh, um, I didn’t exactly take your advice and got wrapped up in the omegaverse. Pretty interesting place, huh?”

“Uh huh,” Rintarou affirmed through a mouthful of food. “Send me your worst then.” His tongue slid out to lick sauce off his lips. Motoya tracked it with his eyes as if it moved in slow motion. It reminded him that he had read about that mouth licking up his neck, nibbling on his ear, sucking marks on his skin, and—

“‘Mori?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.” Motoya was so fucked.

—

“Kiyoomi, I hate you,” Motoya grumbled into the phone.

“What did I do this time?”

“Remember when you sent me that fanfic link last year?" He didn't wait for a response and blustered through, "You gave me this knowledge and now I am cursed.”

“Uh huh. How so,” Kiyoomi sounded bored.

“There’s this person who was featured in them with me and it was never anything more than a fantasy before. But now they want to talk about it! The fics! They know! And I can’t play dumb.”

“Okay, sure. So this person, how do you feel about them?”

“They—“ Motoya wasn’t quite sure how he felt. 

He found himself noticing this guy more ever since he stumbled upon those stories. Like, his eyes were instantly drawn to him when he entered a room. He had been analyzing his microexpressions and finding joy in understanding them. And experiencing skinship from the guy? He felt like little zaps of electricity ran through him when that happened.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

These are not thoughts someone has about a friend.

“Motoya?”

“It’s complicated.” He was a teammate and his best friend. He didn’t want to complicate it with these feelings.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Rintarou had sent him a tender and amorous fic as his favorite story about the two of them. Was it really that simple?

Kiyoomi’s words pinged around his mind.

It doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t have to be complicated.

—

Motoya elbowed Rintarou while sitting next to him on the couch, “So what’d you think of the fic I sent you?” His caterpillar of an eyebrow raised in question.

Motoya had sent over a fic where omega Rintarou was teased within an inch of his orgasm by Motoya licking at the slick coming out of his ass. He thought it was so unrealistic and out of character enough that Rintarou might find it funny.

“Was that your way of asking me if I’m a bottom?”

Motoya was glad he wasn’t in the middle of a sip of his beer because he would have definitely spewed the drink all over himself after choking. Instead, he froze, stopping the bottle on the way to his mouth.

“‘Cuz I’m a switch. So I can be both your submissive omega and your big bad, possessive Alpha.” Rintarou’s eyes flicked up to his. His teammate smirked, then took another swig.

“Oh my god, you’re so embarrassing,” Motoya threw a balled-up napkin at him. Rintarou snickered at Motoya’s beet red face.

Motoya cleared his throat to change the subject, “So do you have any other recommendations? I, uh, enjoyed the last one you sent me.” And suddenly he felt even hotter with the way Rintarou’s eyes bored through him.

“Sure.” While he took a sip of his drink, Rintarou pulled out his phone and shared a new link with Motoya.

This new fic had the following tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Anxiety.

It doesn’t have to be complicated.

“Either you’re quite the romantic or I think you might be in love with me,” Motoya teased. There was a grain of truth in the jest, a hope that he wanted to bloom and flourish.

Rintarou could have quipped back with a taunt, laughed, or winked, as he had done so many times before during their bantering. Instead, he sat frozen with the bottle to his lips. When his brain came back online, he chugged the rest of his drink. It was still half full.

“Do you want another one?” Rintarou tried to stand up, somewhat robotically, but Motoya grabbed his arm to stop him and pulled him back down.

“Hey, Suna. Talk to me,” Motoya held a note of concern in his tone, almost pleading. He didn’t want Rintarou to feel like he had an issue he had to drink away.

“Would that be bad?” Rintarou’s face was neutral, but he wouldn’t look at him. His voice was quiet.

“Would what be bad?” Motoya still clasped his hand on Rintarou’s arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“If I liked you.” It was then that Rintarou turned to look at him. He had an air of vulnerability about him, one that he often hid and compartmentalized behind his flat facade and bantering jokes.

Motoya’s fingers skimmed down to Rintarou’s hand, looping his fingers into his friend’s. “No, it wouldn’t be bad.”

Rintarou’s mouth dropped open into a little ‘o’ and his eyes roamed Motoya’s face as he looked for any hint of a joke, any hint that this wasn’t going his way, unintentionally leaning in as he was drawn to the magnetism of the man, drawn to their inevitability.

Motoya’s free hand cupped Rintarou’s cheek in a move that was nearly too soft. He leaned forward, mirroring the other’s body language. They now shared each other’s space and air; their noses touched. He looked at Rintarou’s lips and knew he was never coming back from this. Those lips were a portal to another realm and when Rintarou closed the gap between them, he was transported there.

He was lightheaded and breathless getting to know Rintarou’s lips. Soft and full, they sucked and pulled at Motoya slowly in ways that made him wonder if he had ever really kissed anyone before. When Rintarou pulled back, Motoya chased them, wanting more. And he got it.

From kisses and nips at his lips to smiles, Motoya thought Rintarou’s face would get tired. He had never made expressions like that before and it was almost too much for Motoya. It made him melt. He wondered if he was the only person who had seen Rintarou look like that, and the fact that he was the cause? It made him a little feral. It made him want to eat Rintarou whole.

He left pecks along Rintarou’s jaw, as his hands roamed his back under his shirt. Fingernails left invisible trails as Motoya pressed his lips along the curve of Rintarou’s neck. He wanted to kiss along every inch of Rintarou’s skin.

“‘Mori, be careful.”

“Hmm?” He pulled back to look his friend in the face.

“I didn’t want you to be tempted to claim me.”

“Claim you?”

“We only just got together. I can’t be seen with a mating bite just yet.”

Oh, hell no. An omegaverse joke? Now of all times? Was this all one big joke? Motoya was shocked, stuck blinking and mouth agape.

When Rintarou’s face couldn’t hold back a shit-eating grin, annoyance overcame Motoya. He stood up and tried to get away, facing towards the door. “Are you fucking kid—

“Stop. Don’t go. I’m sorry.” Before he could get away, Rintarou grabbed his wrist. He didn’t look very sorry, as he pulled Motoya into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. He still wore that grin as he kissed Motoya with abandon. “I actually wouldn’t mind if you claimed me, but take me to dinner first,” he said when he came up for air.

God, he was kind of insufferable. “We both know you’re a beta. C’mon.”

“Ouch, babe. A beta? Really?”

Something bloomed in Motoya’s chest at the pet name, but he couldn’t relish it too much. He had bigger fish to fry—he was never going to live down this omegaverse thing, was he? He groaned and decided he might as well lean into it then, teasing, “Aw, so you want to be my good little omega then? You want my knot, huh?”

Now it was Rintarou’s turn to stare at Motoya, who began to laugh.

“And you think I’m the embarrassing one?” Rintarou started laughing along with the infectious laugh coming from Motoya, settling their foreheads together as the peels of laughter slowed and reverberated under their breath.

“Yeah, I do,” Motoya said and kissed him, while rubbing their noses together. “I like that about you.”

Motoya eased back into Rintarou, fingers finding purchase in dark hair as they became a mess of lips and teeth once again. The more charged the air between the two of them got, the tighter Motoya’s fingers gripped, not realizing how much he pulled or how hard he was, rocking against the other. Rintarou moaned with his head pulled back in Motoya’s grip, gasping into his mouth. Heat licked in Motoya’s gut at the sound.

“Bedroom?” Rintarou murmured against his lips. Motoya murmured an affirmation while he nodded.

“Hold on.” Before Motoya could parse the meaning of those words, long strong arms cupped his ass and hoisted him up.

While liberos were notoriously smaller in the league, he had a few kilos on Rintarou. Nearly all of Motoya’s previous lovers were smaller too; so when Rintarou hoisted and threw him onto the bed like he weighed nothing, he was certain he’d let the man do anything to him.

When he landed on the bed, it wasn’t his weightlessness or the little bounce that made Motoya’s stomach swoop though, it was Rintarou’s piercing stare that looked down at him hungrily that really did the trick. Motoya was so down bad it wasn’t even funny.

—

Rintarou straddled Motoya; both naked and aching for each other. He had fantasized about this so many times over the past several months and now that he was here, he didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Tell me what you want.” Rintarou peppered Motoya with kisses, finding it hard to control himself with the affection leaking out of him.

“I—“ Motoya couldn’t control a strangled noise from escaping his throat when Rintarou’s tongue licked up his neck.

“Out of everything you’ve read, there had to be something you wanted to do, something you’ve fantasized about.” Motoya groaned in response, rutting against Rintarou, who threw his head back and tried to keep his wits about himself. “C’mon, Motoya. Use your words.”

He had wanted to use Motoya’s first name more and more recently. Seeing the man’s reaction, he was glad he waited for this moment. His eyes were blown out and he licked his lips. “Ah, anything,” Motoya panted, “anything you want.”

“Anything? Shit.” Rintarou bit his lip as he thought about some of the depraved things he’d do given the chance, if only Motoya would let him. “You don’t know half of what I’d do to you.” He ran his hands up Motoya’s sides, who shivered. “Or what I’d let you do to me.” He flicked Motoya’s nipple and rolled it between his fingers, eliciting a gasp. “Let’s start easy and we can get into the anything next time. After we talk.”

Motoya continued rocking his hips into Rintarou’s, eyes closed and mouth open as if begging to be filled. Rintarou rubbed his fingers against Motoya's bottom lip and then couldn’t help himself—he slid his fingers in, catching Motoya by surprise. His eyes snapped open, but he soon adapted by sucking with gusto. Keeping eye contact, Motoya swirled his tongue around fingers, taking them as deep into his throat as they would go. Rintarou soon found out that Motoya didn’t have a gag reflex and wondered whether Motoya would look this good sucking his cock—probably better.

“You take them so good,” Rintarou breathed heavily into Motoya’s ear, who whimpered in response. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Pulling his wet fingers out, Rintarou brought them to curl around Motoya’s dick just to tease him. His hand roamed up and down, but not with any consistent pace or grip.

“Rin, stop teasing me,” Motoya whined and Rintarou’s stomach dropped. He liked hearing his name from Motoya’s lips as much as he liked saying Motoya’s.

“Okay then, do you want me to fuck you or—“

“Yes.”  Motoya cut him off and Rintarou chuckled in return. Motoya looked tortured, debauched—he looked like he needed to be fucked immediately.

“I was going to ask, or do you want to fuck me,” Rintarou huffed in amusement. He wanted to give the man options. As much as he was into fucking him, he wanted to make sure it was what he wanted too.

“Yes.” Motoya squeezed his eyes closed and bit his lip, as he squirmed in Rintarou’s hands. God, he was making this so much harder. Making him so much harder.

Rintarou sat up, making a grab towards his nightstand for lube and condoms. He sat over Motoya without touching him. “Toya, you can’t just say yes to everything.”

“I know, but I’m excited.” Motoya snapped his hips up and Rintarou bit back an embarrassing noise as Motoya said, “How about you fuck me then?”

Rintarou confirmed it with a chaste kiss before coating his fingers with lube, rubbing them together for warmth. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Rintarou spread Motoya’s legs apart, settling between them.

“Don’t stop until I cry. Seriously, make me cry, Rin. Shit—“ Motoya gasped when he felt Rintarou’s finger penetrate him.

Rintarou felt satisfaction curl in his gut. He’d hardly done anything and yet Motoya was so expressive. He loved seeing his range of emotions, wondering what else he could draw out from just his fingers. He wondered what it would take to see his tears.

Speeding up from one finger to two and then three, Motoya panted and writhed under him. His face flushed and blissed out, Rintarou whispered how much he liked hearing Motoya, how good he looked under him, how much he wanted to be inside him.

“Oh my god. I— fuck. I’m going to come.” Rintarou wanted to indulge him, but a little bit of the sadist inside of him liked teasing Motoya and wanted to pull his fingers out and hear him whine, edge him until he was close to coming and pull back, only to bring him to the edge again and again. Instead, Rintarou sided with the indulgent part of himself—if he indulged him over and over and over, maybe that’s how he could get Motoya to cry. So when he found that spot that had Motoya throwing his head back and chanting his name, he didn’t stop his ministrations.

That’s how Rintarou milked the first orgasm out of Motoya, cum splattering Motoya’s chest as he choked on a silent scream. When he came down to this plane from the stars he ascended to, he grabbed Rintarou’s face and pressed their mouths together, regaining the energy that left him.

“More,” Motoya breathed against his lips.

Rintarou had barely just removed his fingers and it seemed like Motoya’s refractory period was already over. “Fuck me already, Rin.” The way he whined Rintarou’s name would forever be cemented into his mind for him to replay at will—he wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or a curse. He wasn’t sure how he would survive a game, let alone practice, after hearing that.

Of course, he obliged the request. He sheathed himself in a condom and then mentally prepared to be in Motoya. He was so hard he was leaking and was worried he would fuck this up.

He grabbed the base of his dick to calm himself down and lined himself up. He closed his eyes and pushed inside Motoya.

—

“Rin, you have to move,” Motoya whined. He felt full, so full. If Rintarou didn’t start moving soon, he’d lose the hard on that just came back.

“It just feels too good,” Rintarou murmured. He had his eyes closed and his head tilted up. “You’re so tight.” Motoya thrusted his hips, circling them in a way that got Rintarou’s attention. “Toya—“ He said warningly. He held Motoya’s hips tightly, almost bruising, as Motoya smirked and kept trying to move. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”

Rintarou snapped his hips and railed into Motoya at a grueling pace. One hand gripped Motoya’s shoulder possessively holding him. It was exactly how Motoya wanted to be fucked—he felt like he was being flattened into the bed, like all the air was being knocked out of him.

Rintarou slowed his pace to a near stop to pump Motoya’s cock, which sat red and at attention.  He used his other hand to pinch and tease Motoya’s nipple, which sent a zap up Motoya’s spine.

Arching and gasping, he sat warming Rintarou’s cock, while his dick was showered with lavish attention. He tried to move—to get more leverage for his hips, but Rintarou held him down and bit his shoulder, sucking and pulling at the skin with his teeth, all the while still stroking him. His head swam and he whined in delight, heat pooled in his stomach.

“Rin, I—I’m close.”

Rintarou started moving his hips in time with his strokes. “Be good and come for me, ‘Toya.”  And he did. They were rewarded with a little spend to add to the pool on Motoya’s chest.

Rintarou loved to see how Motoya’s face scrunched, how flushed he became, how blissed out he looked, how he lost all the bones in his body when he came. He kissed Motoya as he came down through a lazy smile.

“I saw some vibrators in your drawer. Should we get them for the next round?” Rintarou looked at the drawer.

“Yes, let’s get the vibrator.” Unfortunately, that meant that Rintarou had to slide out of him and he was left feeling empty.

Another round would presume the end of the first, but Rintarou hadn’t even come yet. Motoya had to remind himself that not everyone could come 5 times or more in a row like him—that was acquired stamina. Most people were one-and-done; he was lucky that Rin was indulging him this way. He was lucky Rin was still going—his achingly red cock looked like it wanted relief so badly—he was probably edging himself at this point. God, that was so hot.

“Uhh, which one?” Rintarou held up two bullets that dangled from some wires attached to a button and another that was a cock ring. He had forgotten about that one. “Both?”

Oh, he’d never used both before. “Both,” he agreed.

He held out his hand to take them, but Rintarou held the items back. “I got it.”

So he laid back on the bed with his hands behind his head and let Rintarou get to work putting them on. Rintarou pushed both bullets in as far as he could get them and then pulled the stretchy silicone cock ring around Motoya’s dick. The ring had a little slot for another bullet which needed to be turned on and then inserted, which Rintarou did with ease.

When he put that last bullet in place—the only bullet actually on so far—Motoya was already beginning to feel heat pooling in his gut as he started to get hard again. Maybe he’d be crying sooner than he usually does. The overstimulation was beginning to take hold and build inside of him. The vibrations felt good—too good—to the point that his brain was slowly melting. It felt like pins and needles that grew slowly over his body. He could feel the pressure growing from the bottom of his spine up to the top of his head. He began to float and that’s when the other two bullets turned on.

Motoya stiffened and let a guttural moan loose from the depths of his soul. He could feel Rintarou lining up as he was asked, “Does that feel good? Are you okay? Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—Yes. Yes. Yes.” Motoya’s eyes rolled backwards as Rintarou entered him. Every time the bullets were fucked into his prostate, he screamed in pleasure. Maybe if he screamed more, he could release the pressure building in his body? Tears gathered at the corners of his lashes and his chest felt like it was ready to explode. The vibrators were too much in the best possible way. He was overcome with emotion that needed to get out and the screaming wasn't helping. 

It didn’t take long before tears were rolling down Motoya’s face—it was too much, too good, too perfect. His head was fuzzy. He couldn't think. He needed to come. He was close, so close, but couldn’t say so. His words were stuck in his throat. He made eye contact with Rintarou and it nearly sent him over the edge to be looked at through dark, lidded eyes that way.

“You’re so sexy,” Rintarou said as he bent down and licked the tear rolling down Motoya’s face. This time he didn’t need to be asked to come. That did it. The orgasm wracked through him and he felt like he was floating away from his body, the bed, his head, this mortal plane. Tears continued to flow. And he slowly floated back with the vague understanding that Rintarou had come too. He wasn’t sure he had ever come so hard in his life. 

Before he knew it, the bullets were all removed and Rintarou was holding him, burrowing into his neck as he shivered.

“Shit.” Motoya covered his face. Rintarou stiffened, but relaxed when Motoya huffed out a laugh under his breath. “That was—you licked my face?”

“What? You didn’t like it?” Rintarou held him a little tighter, almost defensively.

“I think the problem is that I liked it a little too much.” In fact, he loved it. He wanted it again.

He could feel Rin smiling into his neck. Motoya felt all the warm and fuzzies that he’d never felt after sex before.

—

Seeing Motoya cry like that? Rintarou didn’t think it’d be that hot when Motoya first mentioned it—in fact, he was a little apprehensive at first. He wasn’t sure what empowered him to lick Motoya either, but in the moment, everything just felt right. Normally, he didn’t think crying would be his thing, but knowing that Motoya wanted it and enjoyed it that much? So fucking hot. Seeing Motoya come so much too? Shit. 

Rintarou wished he had it on video. He would replay it over and over in his mind from now until the end of time. Now he could definitely never shower after practice together again.

“Rin, did you hear me?” Motoya turned his head to try to look at him. They laid in the bed and cuddled after Rintarou had cleaned them both up.

“Hm?”

“I said, we’ll have to do that again.”

Again? Hell yes. Rintarou smiled. He hoped there’d be a lot of agains.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Spoilers: they wouldn't even be able to count the number of agains there would be.