#with zero scowl on his face he practically looks like hes smiling. hes so fucking cute. i have to hit someone with a car
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other very interesting thing abt that deleted scene is that the color grading is totally different from like most of s1. wonder if it was going to get corrected to something else later... it's SO yellow. makes it look oddly bright and cheery for a failed robbery & triple homicide. wrench is so cute in it. i need to eat him
#ignore me#theyre both so cute. unbelievable levels of married. marriage off the charts#someone pointed out the 'pay at pump only' sign which is soooo#numbers Just went in for snacks wrench Just went in to nag him abt taking too much time on snacks#when wrench is looking at him after pointing out the camera theres like no way hes lipreading btw. hes just looking at him to look at him.#with zero scowl on his face he practically looks like hes smiling. hes so fucking cute. i have to hit someone with a car#fargo#forgor my TAG... need to reread how insane i was later
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some random girl flirting with playboy satoru and bunni thinking he’s cheating on her :(
you could feel your heart breaking into two as you watched the scene unfold. she was giggling and gripping on satoru’s forearms and the way she looked up at him, as if she was absolutely enamored with him. your eyes zeroed in on her almond shaped nails that were painted with black and red, she came dressed as a cop. her outfit hugged her, though, her button up shirt clung onto her torso and it seems she purposely left the top button unbuttoned so that her boobs could be ogled at. her shorts squeezed her thighs and hips, with every step she took her hips swayed. she exuded a level of confidence that you would possibly never accomplish.
she was touching on your toru. your bottom lip wobbles even more when you realize he is allowing her to touch him. there’s a smile on his fake bloody lips, his faux canines peek out every time she makes him laughs. you had stepped away for a second to go use the bathroom and you came back to some girl in your seat and chatting it up with satoru. waves of jealousy and insecurity consume your body.
you breathe heavily through your nose, trying to remind yourself to not cry. with hesitant steps, you walk to where you previously sat. satoru immediately stops talking to the girl to look at you, when he saw that teary eyed expression on your face he was quick to pull at your arm.
“what’s wrong?” he asks.
you pull your arm out of his hold and snatch your purse that sat on his lap. you could feel the girl's eyes burning a hole into the side of your head, you refuse to look at her. she could have him if she wanted him so bad. you ignore satoru’s calls out to you. you’re pushing past people, some of the partiers throw you scowls while others vocally express their distaste. you ignore it all.
“bunny, turn the fuck around.” satoru is desperately following behind you. he could’ve easily grabbed you by your arm and turned you around but he wanted you to do it on your own.
you continue to ignore him, your heels clack with every angry stomp you took. you didn’t even know where you were going. choso had booked a house for this halloween party, it’s quite spacious and full of rooms. satoru had brought you with him a couple of days prior to the halloween party, so that you could help decorate. he figured you would’ve been into it and you were, when choso tasked you with decorating mainly the living room, you were practically beaming. you were so wrapped up with decorating you didn’t take time to understand where different halls led to.
with blurry eyes, you managed to walk yourself outside. the texture shifted from wood floors to brick. you had walked into the patio of the house. strings of fairy lights hung around the pillars, delivering you some light to walk through.
satoru finally got enough of being ignored and grabbed you by your wrist. “do you not hear me?!” his eyes that were hidden with red eye contacts look down at you.
you don’t say anything to him, only turning your head so that he couldn’t see you crying.
“talk.” he demanded.
you shake your head no, sparse tears drip down even faster. you continue to look away from him, choosing to look at the dark wood that wrapped around the backyard.
with an angry sigh he releases his grip on your wrist and instead grabs your jaw. he forces your head to tilt, you have no choice but to look into his concerned eyes.
“talk.” he repeats himself.
“y-you don’t like me anymore.” as the word ‘anymore’ utters from your mouth you break down into heavier tears. you try to fight your head from his grasp, satoru doesn’t let you, though. he instead, wraps his arms around you dwarfing you with his size.
you sob into his arms. the smell of his cologne is intoxicating, he smells so good. maybe that’s what drew that girl to him.
“bunny, i dunno what’s makin’ you talk like this. but don’t believe that shit. ‘kay?” he’s rocking you from side to side, in futile attempts to get you to calm down.
“i s-saw you and her.” you sniffle.
“babygirl, stop talking crazy. i still like you. ‘m gonna always like you. you’re lettin’ those mean thoughts get allll into your head and tell you lies.” he reassures you.
“so w-why did you let her t-touch you?” you’re getting tears and snot all over his costume which makes you cringe but satoru is too warm to pull away. besides, with the way he’s holding you, you couldn’t get away even if you wanted to.
“i一i really don’t know, bun. if i knew it was gonna upset you this much i wouldn’t have.”
“hm.” you pout. there are still tears leaking but you’re not sobbing anymore, at least.
“can we go back now?” he asks after letting you bask in a moment of silence.
“don’t wanna go back.” you mumble into his shirt.
“you have t’speak up, bun. i can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.” he’s leaning his head on top of your head now. his body still sways the two of you, he hopes that it's calming you down.
“don’t wanna go back, toru.” you say louder and clearer.
“where d’you wanna go then?” he asks.
“wanna stay out here. jus’ us two.” you tell him. your arms are now wrapped around his waist and you’re swaying with him.
“‘kay, bun. whatever you want. no more cryin’ though. you look too pretty t'cry.” he’s leaning back a little, with just enough space to place a kiss on your forehead before pulling you back close to him.
#fratboy/playboy!gojo#pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა#₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ゚#toruuu ᡣ𐭩୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶#jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#jjk x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x y/n#satoru x reader#jjk satoru#can u guess what hes dressed as lol
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✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️
Affect
AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.
Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.
Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.
Word count: 4138
I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.
You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.
Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.
"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.
"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.
His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.
"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.
You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.
Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.
Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.
However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.
You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.
"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.
"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.
"That's my girl,"
Oh.
Oh no.
That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.
"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.
Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.
"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.
"How about some pull-ups next?"
"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"
"You could learn today,"
When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"
"Now you're speaking my language,"
On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.
You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.
You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"
You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."
His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.
"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"
"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"
He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.
You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.
Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?
"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.
"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"
Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.
"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.
"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"
By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.
To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.
"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.
"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.
"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.
Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.
You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."
"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"
It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.
"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.
"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.
"You're really annoying, you know that?"
"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"
"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.
"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.
"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"
"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.
"What? Hey!"
"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"
All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.
"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.
"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.
"Yes,"
"May I kiss you?"
"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.
You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.
Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.
"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.
"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.
With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.
"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.
"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.
You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.
He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.
"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.
"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.
All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.
"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.
He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.
Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.
"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."
A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.
"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.
"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.
Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.
His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.
"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.
With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.
The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.
The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.
He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.
Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.
"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.
"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.
Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.
"Chan, please," you whine.
"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.
"Please fuck me,"
His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."
If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.
"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.
"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.
"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.
"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"
You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.
Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.
"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.
"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.
Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.
"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.
Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.
"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.
Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.
"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"
You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.
"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."
You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.
You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.
Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.
"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.
You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.
#lee chan smut#dino smut#seventeen smut#seventeen dino smut#dino seventeen smut#chan smut#chan seventeen smut#seventeen chan smut#1k followers celebration day 6#1k followers celebration#1k followers milestone
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i think i sent you a request sometime earlier and if you didn't want to answer it that's totally fine!! you can look past this one as well if that was the case!!
but i'm still thinking about mingi bringing you to his studio to keep him company while he works and then he gets distracted by your presence and just ends up eating you out and fucking you on the couch there 🫣
mingi just being obsessed with his partner and everything about them makes me go a little crazy
also hope your hangover isn't too bad! take care <3
ah! no you deffo did send it and i meant to answer but i just got sidetracked 😭😭 like it’s literally half written in my drafts but imma just go ahead and freehand it now bc this is way too good not to talk about…
like he definitely takes you to the studio with the intention of doing work and he definitely has to tell you to behave before he even starts working but like… how are you supposed to behave when your hot boyfriend is literally right there?? so he can hardly blame you when you start doing things to tease him.
like imagine you just start moaning a little, and when he turns to you with a cocked brow and a scowl on his face, you tell him the couch is uncomfy and the moans are because your back hurts. if you want to push it a little, you might even ask him if you can sit on his lap instead. and obviously because mingi can’t say no to you he just rolls his eyes and pats his legs.
but then when you’re sat with your ass against his half-hard crotch, you can’t help but tease him a little by rolling your hips. obviously he tries to ignore you and get on with whatever he’s doing, but you can feel his dick getting harder with every roll of your hips, and you can hear the little grunts he lets out every so often.
it doesn’t take much to push him over the edge, and when you do, he’s lifting you up and literally throwing you down onto the couch. like you don’t even have a second to think before his hands are tugging at your jeans and your panties, and his lips are attaching themselves to your clit.
and while he’s eating you out like you’re his last meal, he can’t help but literally moan into your pussy. it almost feels like he’s getting more pleasure out of this than you are, which should be impossible because he has your thighs shaking in seconds. like, you cannot tell me he doesn’t know what to do with his tongue because that man 100% does. he’ll have you cumming in record time, and then carry on for more.
and i’m a firm believer in the fact that he is insatiable when it comes to eating pussy. he’d be down there, slurping and moaning and just making the most vulgar sounds known to man forever if you’d let him. but obviously overstimulation is a thing, and eventually you have to push him away for a breather. but i can that guarantee that even when you’re literally on the verge of passing out, this man will find some way to complain about wanting more.
but when he realises just how tired you are, he realises maybe you’re right and maybe he can’t just carry on eating you out until he himself is satisfied. so instead, in the softest voice he can muster - as if he hasn’t just been ravaging your pussy like a wild animal - he asks if he can fuck you. he’s fumbling over his words and fiddling with his fingers and practically begging you to let him fuck you, all while your juices are spread over his mouth and chin.
and you say yes, because you’re not evil, and he just smiles at you. doesn’t even bother to take his sweats off, just pushes them down to let his dick spring free before railing you into the couch. i can guarantee he tries to start off soft but the man has zero self restraint and actually ends up fucking you so incredibly hard that you’re seeing stars.
but he’s still so kind and so mingi with it because he knows you’re overstimulated, but he still feels like he can’t just fuck you and not let you cum, so he asks you if you want to. the second he sees you nod your head, he starts to play with your clit, but it’s so gentle compared to his thrusts because he knows you won’t need much to cum this time around.
and he’s absolutely right because his finger is barely on you before you’re squeezing tightly around him and creaming over his dick. and seeing your face screw up at the same time is all he needs for his own hips to stutter to a standstill as he releases his load into you…
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez scenarios#ateez fic#mingi smut#ateez smut#ateez hard thoughts#ateez hard hours
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*insert french laugh* Did someone say to send a prompt? Ahoy! Have no fear for I am here. How about stevetony kiss prompt with the dialogue "i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me"? Could Steve be the one to also say it? <3
naferty fren!!! yesss always happy to write steve for you <3
@soliloquent-stark also requested this prompt + "If you win, I'll kiss you" so I rolled y'all into one
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
~
Steve does follow his physical therapy plan religiously, and sure enough, by the time the next season—his final season, as a senior now—rolls around, he’s declared fit to play. And, fuck, does he play. Determined to prove himself even better after his recovery, to prove that Rollins couldn’t get him down, he leads his team to victory after victory and then to the playoffs and now to the championship.
Tony ducks into the locker room before the game, ignoring the good-natured wolf-whistles and catcalls from Steve’s teammates as he picks his way through the equipment littered across the room. It’s been an open secret for ages that Steve was seeing an omega, and after his injury last season, it became an open secret that Steve was specifically seeing Tony because he kept showing up to fuss over him, but none of them would ever turn him in. They have too much respect for their captain and quarterback, and anyway, most of them think the zero fraternization rules are just as ridiculous as they do.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Steve says, beaming at him. “How was your exam?”
Tony makes a face. He hadn’t flown over with the team yesterday, being required to take an exam for one of his courses—something about mechanics, which Steve had listened to all the ranting about, nodding sympathetically since that was about as much as he understood.
“That bad?” Steve asks.
Tony scowls. “No. It was boring. If you’re gonna make a big deal about this exam being the ‘hardest exam of the entire semester’—” he adopts a suitably dramatic tone for the quote—“then it should at least be difficult, right? I overstudied way too much for that thing. I don’t think it took me more than about ten minutes.”
“Maybe that’s just because you’re impressive.”
“Or maybe Dr. Kean’s not nearly as scary as she thinks she is.”
Steve hums. He doesn’t completely agree—no one knows how smart Tony is better than he does after years of listening to Tony telling him about his inventions—but he’s not going to argue the point. He wasn’t there; for all he knows, everyone was done with the exam after ten minutes.
“I’m glad to see you here,” he says instead. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
Tony makes a dismissive gesture. “What’s a little light sprinting through the airport to catch the next flight?”
“And the TSA let you?”
“I told ‘em I was going to support my alpha, and they practically made a hole for me themselves. They’re big Steve Rogers’ fans, you know.”
It’s Steve’s turn to make a face. He doesn’t know how he feels about having fans. No, that’s not true. He knows exactly how he feels, and he doesn’t like it.
Tony laughs, “Yeah, exactly.”
Steve hears the coach starting to round people up for the pregame pep talk and says, “You better get out there. Don’t want you to miss the kickoff.”
“Hmm, yeah, probably,” Tony agrees and starts to walk away, grinning when Steve reels him back in. “What?”
“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” Steve asks.
“No?”
That innocent look on his face isn’t fooling Steve one bit. He reminds him, “Kiss for luck?”
Tony thinks about it, then gives him a teasing smile. “Hmm, I’m gonna have to go with no.”
Steve blinks at him. “No?”
“Yeah, no. But if you win, I’ll kiss you then.”
He darts away before Steve can catch him to kiss him himself, cackling like mad as he dodges his hand. Steve watches him go and shakes his head fondly. Well, now that Tony’s laid a challenge on him, guess he’ll have to win.
~
Looking back on it, he’ll be able to remember the game in excruciating detail. He’ll be able to sit down with Tony and watch the highlights and comment on what he was thinking at each moment of the game. Today though, it feels like barely a minute has passed before he’s standing in the winners box, looking at Tony beaming from ear to ear while someone asks him how he feels.
“Amazing,” he says honestly. He almost says something about Tony, but stops himself at the last second. That moment feels too private, too them to share on national television. He gives another couple of soundbites before the mic moves to Peter, who’d made the winning touchdown in the last second, literally.
“I think I just kind of blacked out when I caught that last ball,” Peter says blankly, still clearly in shock. “I just ran for it. I’m lucky I moved at all.”
Everyone chuckles and then they’re finally allowed down off the stage. Steve makes a beeline straight for Tony, vaguely acknowledging the people who try to talk to him. Tony is waiting for him with a softer, more teasing smile.
“Congratulations, quarterback,” Tony says once he reaches him.
“Thanks,” Steve says, grinning at him. “Now, if I remember correctly, I think this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.”
“Oh, is that what part this is?” Tony asks, arching his eyebrows.
“Pretty sure. I did win, after all.”
“Well, if you won,” Tony says exaggeratedly, but grabs ahold of Steve’s jersey and yanks him in. He smiles again, bright and warm and so, so proud, and then leans up and kisses him. And it’s a perfect moment, the best way to cap off the best season Steve has ever had. Steve wraps his arms around him, holding him close, and kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.
#alle writes#alle answers#stevetony#if you like please reblog#i have another request for this prompt but specifically with tony#so that'll get rolled into the second kiss prompt fics
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At Your Service
Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader
Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut
Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor
Warnings For This Chapter: A Misunderstanding, Early Angst Babies, Backstory Drama Begins
Chapter 4.
When you first step out of the car, the scent of manure and nature smacks you in the face like a tidal wave but there's something comforting about it.
Knowing you're about to see animals that took up so much of your imagination during your childhood feels practically euphoric in a way… Not that you'd ever reveal that to the outside world.
"You look lovely, by the way." Jeongguk breathes, closing your door for you.
"Thank you, Jeongguk," you whisper, fixing your long black gloves.
"Just Guk."
"Huh?" you inquire, lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head.
"Just call me Guk. All my friends do."
Oh.
How fucking dangerous is that? You're on friend terms now.
"Alright… Guk…"
The smile he gives is one that can be compared to the expansive universe and all its possibilities or an Aurora Borealis on a cold winter's eve -- breathtaking.
He pockets his hands casually into his ripped black jeans and his head nods towards the entrance of the large zoo. "Ready?"
"Oh yeah," you breathe, fighting the urge to smile.
As he walks beside you with an air of confidence that could smite down the lowly, you take him in. You hope you aren't rude to be thinking this but he doesn't look like the type to be into theoretical physics.
And if he is then why did he not graduate from Stanford? And why is he an escort?
It seems that he's an enigmatic puzzle quite like you.
Although some would argue that you aren't a puzzle, just dreadfully dreary.
"I can't believe you wore heels to walk around a zoo," Jeongguk laughs, pulling you from your thoughts.
Notching your eyebrow, you tilt your head to him. "I paid for a VIP tour. We don't walk."
"I see," he muses, sniffling once and lifting his arm to wrap it around your shoulders.
When you freeze, he slowly pulls away. "Just trying to get you comfortable with me. I don't have to though."
You imagine the wedding then, if you aren't comfortable with him by then people might assume you paid him and you will NOT allow people to judge you.
So you grip his wrist and fling his arm back over your shoulders without a second thought.
"Atta girl," Guk laughs.
He smells of sandalwood and citrus -- clementine, maybe? It's honestly divine and it matches him all too well.
"It's a nice day to see some animals," the escort comments, stepping past the gate with you by his side.
"Yes," you agree.
In a way, you feel kind of terrible that you have zero personality anymore. You give nothing to conversations nor can you manage to keep one up. It must be incredibly taxing to others.
Your date seems pleased with your answer though because he gives you a wide smile that makes the tips of your toes tingle.
"Do you have any pets?" you inquire.
"A dog. A Great Dane, his name is Hawking," the escort answers, pulling out his phone and showing you his wallpaper.
"Like the physicist Stephen Hawking?"
"The very same. Bingo," he muses, giving you a wink.
"What's your I-"
"Miss L/N!"
When you're cut off from speaking, the scowl that etches onto your face makes Jeongguk's eyebrows lift with amusement.
"You're feisty," he jests, turning to the person who's calling you.
You nudge him softly, the ice around you breaking for merely a moment to let in a good natured joke.
The zoo personnel that sees your disappointed expression seems to reel their excitement back in and they give you a polite smile. "It's such a pleasure to have you here. We can start your tour as soon as you're ready."
"Let me just run to the restroom, I'll be right back," you promise.
Guk nods, dropping his arm off your shoulders and watching the way you stride effortlessly towards the tribal decorated restrooms.
You've got a great ass.
"You're a lucky dude, huh?" the zookeeper breathes, stepping up beside the escort.
Jeongguk smirks, folding his arms accordingly. "Yeah, she's something else."
"She's so generous too," the keeper beams, lowering the volume of his walkie talkie.
It intrigues Guk immediately and his head cranes towards the shorter man beside him. "How so?"
"Y/N donates almost a million dollars every year to the sanctuary! She's the reason why our zoo looks so wonderful! She's the reason we can do conservation as well as we can."
Your date simply shakes his head, a wry smile etching onto his features.
There's so much of you shrouded away from the world. He wants to just get a chisel and hammer and just knock away all the stone encasing you until there's just you in your purest form left.
"Is that right?" he breathes, drifting his hands through his long hair.
You surely are a Rubik's Cube that he wants to solve.
"And to your left here we have the pygmy hippos. They're native to West Africa and are still unfortunately on the endangered species list but with all of your donations we've found a way to breed more of them," Lyle, the zookeeper informs you and your date stopping the golf cart.
"Oh, that's okay Lyle. You don't have to keep bringing up my m-"
"They're super cute!" Guk chirps, climbing out of the cart and holding his hand out to you.
The zoo tour has been going smoothly so far, you really are enjoying yourself. There's something wonderful about seeing Guk light up with each and every cute animal that makes the day even better. You've begun to wonder why you've closed yourself up so tightly over the years.
Is this what you've been missing out on?
You've been missing out on making memories with people that deserve it?
You've hidden away from the world for so long that maybe you've been missing out on good people too.
You take the escort's hand, stepping up alongside him.
He leans against the wooden railing along the habitat, letting his black hair fall into his eyes. "You can let someone gush about your donations, y'know. You're really helping them out here."
He speaks softly to you, almost as if he's trying to feather away any embarrassment that might land in your direction from his words.
"I just- My money isn't the most important thing there is."
"That's true," Jeongguk agrees, "You're more important than your money but you do help them out here. It's only right that they gush."
He smiles over at you, pushing some hair back behind your ear and you practically fall backwards at the feeling. Your heel slips awkwardly and he catches you with ease, wrapping his arm around your waist safely.
"Relax, Y/N. I know it's hard, I do. But try and relax," he murmurs, setting you upright.
Taking a deep breath, you turn towards the hippo, training your sights on the animal.
Your body is an amalgamation of sickly horror and longing all at once and you aren't sure which you should let win.
The one time Namjoon tried to push your hair back behind your ear, you smacked his wrist so hard that it left a welt for three days.
It's only been a few hours since the tour began but Guk had slowly gotten you to be more comfortable with him. From the way he jokes around with you, even though it's small and it doesn't need to be returned or the way he smiles at you like you're something brand new to his life -- it has set you at ease.
Which is why the next set of words he chooses to say makes you feel as if you're walking over glass with bare feet.
"Just let me show you what you're paying for."
When you wrinkle your nose in distaste, Guk knows that he worded it wrong. "W-Wait, I didn't mean-"
"You did. I get it. It's a job," you reply briskly.
"Y/N, no. Wait, I'm sor-"
"It was my mistake. I forgot that I was paying you. I'm at fault," you hiss, turning on your heel and walking away.
When you start to march up the hill towards the African Plains section of the zoo, Jeongguk groans loudly.
How could he drop the fucking ball like this?
He didn't mean to say it in such a way…
Guk has noticed just how happy you've been the past few hours. He's noticed how comfortable you've gotten even to the point where you've smiled more times than he can count on two hands so far.
And in an instant with nine fucking words, he's crushed your spirit and your openness.
The guilt that echoes inside of him makes his bones ache long and dull within him. His heart picks up speed and he's so flustered that he can't even register how unprofessional or how emotional he's getting.
"Lyle, get out of the cart!" Jeongguk orders, tying his hair up into a ponytail.
"I-I can't! It's against the rules! You can't drive the car-"
"Get out of the fucking cart!" Guk seethes through his teeth, grabbing onto the zoo keeper's bright green shirt and tugging him out of the driver's seat.
Has he even driven one of these things before?
No.
Does he give a flying shit?
Hell no.
Pressing his foot on the gas, the cart charges up the hill and he can see you steamrolling your way through guests with your Birkin limply hanging from your hands. Your shoulders are hunched over in a way that makes the thousands of dollars worth of clothes on your body seem like they came from the Dollar General and the escort feels sick to stomach that he did this to you.
He doesn't slow the cart down, he just honks the horn for people to move out of his way.
And when he finally reaches you, he takes a deep breath.
"Y/N, please get back in the cart," he begs, throwing his arm over the steering wheel and angling his body to look up at you.
"No," you mumble childishly, folding your arms.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Really, I didn't!" he gasps, shaking his head.
"You didn't upset me," you boldface lie, looking over at the lions as you pass by.
Now he knows that's completely untrue.
"You're gonna kill youself in those heels. They're a deathtrap. Please just get in the cart."
"You don't get to tell me what to do! I pay you! I'm your boss!" you snap, bearing your bleached teeth at him angrily.
He'll let that go. He'll let it roll off his back because he upset you in the first place.
"I just meant-"
When you start to walk faster, he curses softly under his breath. "C'mon Y/N, this cart can only go like three miles an hour."
"Good! Get lost!" you rasp, upturning your nose to him.
"Christ! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that! I just meant that you should get everything you want, you should get treated nicely!"
"Because I'm paying for it!" you guffaw, ripping your gloves off and throwing them at him.
He pulls one of the long black gloves off his shoulder with soft, apologetic eyes and he shouts after you so loudly that it makes all the patrons at the zoo turn towards you. "No! Because you're fucking beautiful and you deserve it! You deserve to be treated nicely!"
When you stop mid-step, he slams his foot on the brake
He doesn't care about the onlookers, he doesn't care about Lyle rushing up the hill with a sweaty, winded face.
He cares about you.
He rounds the cart, putting both hands on your arms. "You didn't pay me to come with you to the zoo. I came because I wanted to. And I've been having a fucking amazing time. I like getting to know you... the real you. I don't need to be paid for that. I did what came naturally to me. Me putting my arm around you, brushing your hair back -- that was second nature. I'm sorry that I misworded it and made you lose trust in my intentions. I'm happy to be here -- with you. I promise."
Jeongguk can see how red the rims of your eyes are and he's unsure if it's because of sorrow or anger but it makes him feel guiltier nonetheless.
"Really?" you mumble, looking down at your heels.
"Yes," he hisses, putting his index finger below your chin and lifting your face to look at him.
You can see how flustered he is, how heavy his breathing is and just how anxious his body language is.
He means it.
You've been studying people long enough to know when they're being sincere.
And this is an example.
You're not a normal enough person to admit that you were hurt by this, nor will you be accepting his apology because then he'll know that you really were hurt so you just give a brief nod.
"Alright," you whisper, clearing your throat.
"Okay?" he inquires, drifting his thumb over your cheekbone.
"Yes. Okay." you reply briskly.
That's good enough for him. As long as you're alright and you forgive him.
"Wanna get some food?" he asks, handing you back your gloves.
"Su-"
"I could have gotten in trouble!" Lyle heaves, leaning against the cart to catch his breath.
The both of you turn your heads to him and you both shrug in response, climbing back into the vehicle.
"I'm hungry, Lyle," you droll.
Jeongguk drapes his arm over your shoulders and he's so pleased that you allow him to. It feels good… almost right and it blows his fucking mind that this is something he can feel after Chloe decimated everything in his heart and within a fifty mile radius.
"Yes ma'am," the zookeeper whispers, getting back into the cart.
While the vehicle winds through staff-only roads towards the East Asia Eatery, you sit in silence. You're replaying your childish tantrum in your head over and over again to the point that it makes your brain want to melt.
Who the fuck is Jeongguk to rile you up? Since when do you have emotions to get hurt by what someone says in the first place?
You'll deny it until you're blue in the face but… you were having fun before, you were letting your guard down without even knowing it.
It was almost as if you didn't even have to try with the escort, he just understood you on such a level that he could break down your jaded walls without even trying.
On some level it's intriguing and on another it's absolutely frightening.
You can't let that happen again.
You won't.
Jeongguk looks at you over his rice bowl and he becomes completely deflated at the expression that sits prettily on your face.
You've closed yourself off again.
Since you've sat down at your table, you've been invested in something on your phone.
You've barely touched your food and the escort is a second thought right at this moment.
"How's everything? Can I get you anything else?" the waiter inquires.
You look up from your phone for a second and you just stare at Guk waiting for his answer.
"We're good, thanks," he breathes, setting down his chopsticks.
"Can you bring us a bottle of the red Screaming Eagle 1992?"
It's a question but it doesn't come out as such and you're throwing your dominant personality all over the place to make up for how flustered you were just a mere half an hour ago.
Jeongguk doesn't know if he should call you out for it or not. He doesn't even know what the fuck he should be doing to make you more comfortable.
He's completely lost.
You remind him of Jimin and Taehyung. He feels comfortable enough with you to speak with you like a friend and on some deeper level he wants to.
"I know you're upset with me," he sighs, pushing his plate away when the waiter leaves.
"No, I'm not," you reply, staring at your phone.
"Y/N." Jeongguk calls you.
Quirking an eyebrow, you slowly set down your phone. You give him your attention and he takes a deep breath.
"Listen, okay? I know that being comfortable with me is probably really weird to you. I understand. And I know that I fucked up earlier with how I worded what I did but you don't have to close yourself off from me."
Like always, your first defense mechanism within you is to become combative, so you do. "I never opened myself up in the first place."
"Mkay," Jeongguk huffs, running his hands over his face, "it took me a long time to be comfortable with people again after I was hurt too."
He didn't expect to do this. He didn't expect to start pouring his heart out over cheap fried rice but he doesn't want you to close up completely to him. He likes how you were just a mere hour or two ago.
When you raise an eyebrow, he continues on.
Guk doesn't even register how it took him weeks to even tell his best friends this but with you… it's almost too easy to spill his guts.
"At some point not too long ago, I got into a relationship with a client of mine. Her name was Chloe. She was… uh… rich, I guess. Really rich, like old money rich. Her great great grandfather invented the tin can or some shit… But I fell deeply into anything that had to do with her. It's like she consumed me to the point of no return."
You slowly set your phone down, watching his neck muscles strain with each word he speaks like his body is trying to stop him.
"We got toxic to the point where I would rather sleep on park benches then fucking going home. She was the devil but she looked good doing heinous shit… So when we broke up, I completely lost my sense of self. She was… everything to me. She was what made me a person for a long time and then suddenly it was gone and I was like this fucking shell of a living ghost or something."
You shoo the waiter away when he approaches and you give the handsome man in front of you all your attention.
You can see him reliving the horrendous relationship and something inside of you wants to stop it. Something inside of you wants him to stop hurting like you were hurt long ago.
So without a second thought, you wrap your hand around his.
Jeongguk gives you a smile, a genuine one and he squeezes your hand reassuringly for a moment. "I can tell you truthfully that I do understand who you are. I do understand how hurt you are, how jaded you are with other people. I completely realize how I fucked up earlier and I am sorry for it. I want you to be open with me, I want you to be comfortable and find some healing with me. Because it's not fair that you have to live in some sort of shitty turmoil while the people that made you miserable get to be happy."
When he speaks, your soul wants to thrive at his words and you swallow thickly at the sheer passion of his voice.
"I did open up," you admit.
"Yeah, I know," he whispers with a smile, "I want more of it."
"It's hard to do that," you reply, clearing your throat.
"And I know that too. But I promise you, I'm not gonna fuck up again. I want you to be yourself with me… not the self you show everyone else. The real you. And even if it takes you a while, I'd like to see it."
Oh, he talks a big game but you're almost a hundred percent sure he can back it up.
Just knowing that he's been hurt like you have gives you this blanket of protection that no one else could ever give.
"I can try," you offer, accepting the bottle of wine from the waiter when he comes around again.
"Atta girl," Guk breathes, squeezing your hand once more.
You're both two puzzles that seem difficult to solve to one another but slowly the pieces are getting revealed and it's only a matter of time before one of you completes the other.
<---- Last Chapter ----> Next Chapter
#at your service#ays#chapter 4#chap 4#jeon jeongguk#jungkook#jungkook smut#bts#bts fic#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook
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Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut
ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.
summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around... word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni. a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3 —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!
extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’)
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)
✧ *:・゚Crash Into You ・゚:*✧
“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”
You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.
“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”
Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.
Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.
“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”
The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.
“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”
You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”
She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”
“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”
“No. What happened?”
You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.
“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”
Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”
You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”
Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.
“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.
Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.
You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.
There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.
“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.
Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.
A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.
Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.
Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”
Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.
“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.
You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.
Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.
“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”
The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.
“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”
You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.
“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”
“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”
You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.
Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?
He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”
You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.
“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”
You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.
“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.
“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”
You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.
“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”
The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.
“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.
You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.
The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.
For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.
You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.
He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.
“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”
You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”
You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”
Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.
“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”
He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.
“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”
You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.
“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.
“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.
Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”
Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.
You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”
“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”
“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”
Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.
“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”
You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”
Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”
It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”
Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.
“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”
You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”
There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”
You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.
“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”
“Mhmm.”
“3, 2, 1, go!”
It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.
“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.
You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”
Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”
“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”
You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.
“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”
Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”
You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.
“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”
You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.
“There!” you announce, smile on your face.
Tom gulps nervously.
“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.
Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.
“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”
His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”
You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.
“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”
Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.
“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.
“Not properly.”
Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”
You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.
“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”
You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”
You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.
Tom cackles.
“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.
“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.
Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.
He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”
“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.
Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.
“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”
You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.
“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”
You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.
“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”
He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.
“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.
Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.
“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”
You nod. “Okay.”
���Follow my line in.”
Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.
It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.
“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”
You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.
“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”
“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”
He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.
You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.
“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.
Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.
“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”
All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.
“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”
Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?
“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”
Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.
“Me too.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.
One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.
It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.
His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.
Tom follows you…?
Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.
Interesting.
After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.
“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.
“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”
“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”
“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”
He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.
“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.
Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”
You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.
Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.
“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”
Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”
Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”
Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”
He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.
He’s cute.
“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”
You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”
Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.
Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.
Y/N: hey x
A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.
Tom: hi xx
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.
Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.
Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.
“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”
You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.
“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”
You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.
“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”
You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.
“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”
It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.
Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.
“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”
“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”
“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”
You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”
Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise���men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.
“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”
“Wait, is it a home game?”
Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”
You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.
“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”
You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”
He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”
It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.
“Absolutely.”
You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.
“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.
Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.
“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”
Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”
You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”
“Give me a spin, darling.”
You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.
“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”
It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”
He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”
Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”
Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.
“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”
He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”
“Dutchy?” you question.
Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”
You coo. “That’s cute.”
Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.
“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.
Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.
The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.
And Tom… Tom.
Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.
Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.
The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.
He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.
The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.
The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.
“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”
You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.
“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.
“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”
Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.
“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”
A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.
Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.
You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.
“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”
Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”
You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”
He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”
It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”
Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“Hmm?”
“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”
You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”
Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.
“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.
You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.
The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.
On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.
“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”
The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.
“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”
You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”
“Yes, coach.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.
“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.
There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.
“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”
Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”
You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,
“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”
He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”
The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.
“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”
Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”
You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”
“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.
“Yeah. Friends.”
He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.
“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”
Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.
“Did you?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you think I was hot?”
It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”
Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.
“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”
“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”
His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.
“Thanks, darling.”
Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.
“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”
“What, sweetheart?”
Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.
It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.
You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.
“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.
There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.
“D’you want to—”
“Oi, Dutchy!”
You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.
“What?”
You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”
Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.
“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”
He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.
You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”
“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”
You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.
Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”
“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.
“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.
“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.
You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.
Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.
Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.
“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”
It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.
“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.
“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”
You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.
“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”
You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.
“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.
Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”
Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”
“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”
A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.
You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.
…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.
You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.
“What— Tom?”
For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.
“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”
You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”
Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.
“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”
“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”
“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.
“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”
Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.
“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.
Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”
You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”
He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.
“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”
You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.
“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”
Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.
By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.
“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”
You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”
He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.
“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.
“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”
Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.
“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”
You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”
Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.
You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.
“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.
The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.
“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.
“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.
He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.
“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”
You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.
“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”
His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.
“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”
Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.
“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”
“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”
He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.
Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.
“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.
“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”
Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.
“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”
You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”
Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.
“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”
You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”
Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”
You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.
“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
It’s noisy in the arena.
With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.
The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.
You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.
He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.
It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.
“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”
Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.
“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”
Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.
“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”
You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”
Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.
Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.
Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.
“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”
Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”
You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”
Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”
You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.
The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.
You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.
“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.
“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”
“Yeah. Penalty.”
“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”
“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”
He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.
“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”
“Mmm. Harry said so.”
Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”
You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.
“Funnier than me?”
“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”
“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”
“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”
Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.
“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”
He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”
“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”
Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.
It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.
You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.
“Y/N!”
You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.
“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.
“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”
Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”
Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.
You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.
“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”
A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.
“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.
“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”
Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”
He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.
“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”
You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.
“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.
A smile breaks out across your face.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”
Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.
“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.
His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.
“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”
You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.
“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.
“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.
You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”
Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.
It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.
“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”
“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.
Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.
His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.
“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”
The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.
“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”
“Overnight?”
“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”
You roll your eyes.
“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.
Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.
“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”
*:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧ *:·゚✧*:·゚✧
There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.
You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.
Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.
The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.
You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.
“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.
Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”
You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.
“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”
“Close your eyes first.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.
“You can open them now.”
It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.
“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”
You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.
“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”
Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.
“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”
You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”
Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”
You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”
“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”
Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.
“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”
Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”
The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.
“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”
Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”
You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.
“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”
His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”
Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.
(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!
mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!
#tom holland x reader#tom holland fic#tom holland smut#tom holland x reader smut#tom holland x reader fluff#tom holland fluff#hockey!tomfic#tblr....please let me in the tags...? please?
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Jealousy
Pairing: Atsumu x Reader (Main), Osamu x Reader (Side)
Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Rape/Non-Con, Misuse of Duct Tape, Non-Con Bondage, Forced Breeding, Forced Impregnation, Delusional Mindset
Summary: Atsumu is determined to prove that he’s the better twin for you.
The first time Atsumu meets you he doesn’t remember you so much as he gets stuck on the fact that Osamu is dating someone. Osamu is fucking dating someone and Atsumu is still here single and alone in his late twenties, not a girl anywhere even in sight. It makes him livid as he stares at the identical face gently smiling at you, affectionately holding your hand, looking so damn happy and content.
What does he have that Atsumu doesn’t? A successful food chain? Cool. But is he a pro-athlete? A medal winning Olympic athlete? One of the best setters in the country? In the world? It’s infuriating to think about and as much as Atsumu loves volleyball, even he dreams of love, marriage, a family of his own late at night when he’s alone on a hotel bed, only Sakusa’s breathing from the other bed in the room keeping him company.
And those thoughts consume him long after he bids farewell to Osamu and you and suddenly the MSBY Jackals are in an uproar as every team member takes turns being sexiled by their blond setter when they’re off at their away games, as Atsumu nonchalantly strolls into the locker rooms to prep for practice, back littered with scratch marks that Bokuto tries to shield from Hinata’s eyes when the orange haired athlete curiously asks when Atsumu got a cat.
Girl after girl walks in and out of his bed, his life. Most never lasting more than a night, a few returning for a couple more rounds in the bedsheets, one even manages to interest him enough to grab a cup of coffee with. But it’s the same verdict every time. He’s good enough to fool around with and he’s great in bed, but Miya Atsumu is not husband material, not when he’s already married to volleyball.
The rejection only fuels his inner turmoil and the green eyed monster inside of him grows and grows, festering and spreading throughout him the more he stops attempting his futile attempts and instead turns his energy to loitering around Osamu and you, inviting himself over for dinners after practice, trying his hand at helping you in the kitchen for brunch on the weekends, crashing in your guest bedroom to the point that Osamu and you gift him a spare key to your shared home.
Neither of you think much of it, Osamu joking to you privately that this is just Atsumu being the needy emotional brother he really is while you’re just glad to be able to get to know Osamu’s family better. So none of you notice how brown eyes inquisitively trail after the both of you, watching how the two of you seamlessly work out both your hectic lives, never letting the long hours at your job or Osamu’s restaurant get in the way of your relationship, always directing a warm smile or gaze at the other despite how obviously exhausted or far away from a good mood you’re in.
And Atsumu lets himself believe that this could be his as he hungrily stares at the way you gently caress his brother’s hand, the affection in your gaze as you tenderly kiss him on the lips, the playful wink you give his twin when you tell him you’re getting ready for bed. He lets himself dream that it’s him who you direct those loving gazes to as you cheerfully greet him in the morning, handing him a coffee made just the way he likes it, placing a plate full of delicious piping hot food in front of him. He lets his hand wander down his shorts at night, straining to hear every detail, every decibel of your moans as Osamu and you make love at night, closing his eyes and stroking his cock as he imagines it’s him who’s forcing those beautiful cries from your mouth.
But it’s not all a picture perfect paradise and Atsumu carefully listens in, alerted by the raising voices he hears through the walls as more and more time passes by. He’d noticed the growing tension in the house, noticed how the two of you were less affectionate, almost awkwardly shuffling around each other when both of you were home from work these past few months. But he couldn’t think of what could have caused both of you to act so strangely, so suddenly, when everything had seemed so swell.
Curiosity has him placing his ear on the wall and he winces when he hears you shout, anger and hurt in your voice that makes his heart clench painfully, asking when Osamu was going to propose, telling his brother how you’re sick of waiting, how you want to get married and have kids soon. Something shattering inside of him when your voice becomes small and hesitant.
“I thought that’s what you wanted too, Osamu. Isn’t that why we decided to start living together?”
He expects his brother to leap at the opportunity, to reassure you, yes, absolutely yes, we can get married right away. He knows that if their positions were switched, that’s what he would be doing. But his jaw drops in disbelief, morphing into a scowl when Osamu pleads for you to calm down, to be patient.
“I do want that. But just not right now.”
“If not now, when? We’re not getting any younger, Osamu.”
“But my chain is in talks of expanding and there’s so much going on. I just don’t have time-”
There’s a heavy silence as Osamu is quick to snap his mouth shut and Atsumu knows he’s cursing himself for the slip of his tongue, already knows the next words that are going to come out of your mouth, words he himself is all too familiar with from his own past failed relationships.
“You just don’t have time for us? Me?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
But it’s too late and Atsumu flinches when he hears loud angry movement, Osamu’s voice imploring you to calm down and stop what you’re doing to no avail as you stomp out of the house, slamming the front door behind you as you make your way to a friend’s house to spend the night apart.
No one speaks of that night after you return to the house the next day and the three of you continue as normal. Or at least as normal as you can be after an unresolved disagreement that your relationship ultimately hinges around continues ticking like a time bomb in everyone’s minds. And it finally counts down to zero when Osamu packs his bags and plants a cold chaste kiss on your lips before heading to the airport and making his way to seal the deal on the restaurant expansion that’s taken over his entire life.
Maybe it’s Atsumu’s fault that the two of you are drunk out of your minds, sprawled out on the living room floor. Scratch that. It’s definitely Atsumu’s fault and he drunkenly smiles at how out of it you are, heart warming at the giddy genuine smile spread across your face, happiness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen ever since that argument Osamu and you had. And oh, he didn’t mean to say that out loud and he panics, quickly sobering up when your smile falls at his words, eyes glazed in reminiscence as you think of that night.
Atsumu isn’t known for his patience, but he waits, not uttering a single word, not moving an inch as you open yourself up to him, telling him your hopes and dreams that so closely match his own of a loving relationship, marriage, family, sharing about the argument Osamu and you had (unknowing of the fact that Atsumu already knows far more than he should). But when you frustratedly laugh at yourself, asking him rhetorically if you’re just being silly and naive, if you’re just a grown woman trying to fulfill a little girl’s childish dream, you’re stunned by the fierce denial from the blonde athlete determinedly staring at you.
“No. You’re not being silly or naive. ‘Samu’s being the idiot. Any man would be lucky and proud to have you as his wife and to create a family with you.”
Those words resonate with you, linger in your mind, further branded into your memory by the sheer sincerity Atsumu drowned them in. And maybe that’s why you find it impossible to play house anymore, find it impossible to live a forced and fake lie when you’re not truly happy anymore. It’s hard, heartbreakingly so, to part ways with the silver haired man when he still holds a part of your heart, but it’s for the best. Why continue when neither of you are on the same page in the long run? Why waste more precious years when you can actively work towards your desired future with someone else who wants the same things as you?
It’s logical. It makes sense. And yet when you meet up with Atsumu at his apartment for dinner one night to catch up a few months or so after the break up you’re still doubting your decision.
You had been surprised the blond setter had been so adamant about keeping in touch even after his brother and you separated, but if you’re honest, he’s surprisingly sweet and caring, someone you consider a true friend. So as awkward as it might seem to outsiders, the two of you remain in close contact and you happily agree to his invite when both your busy schedules finally match up.
But as much as you like Atsumu, the two of you really need to stop drinking so much when you see each other and you let out a cry of frustration when your eyes immediately tear up when Atsumu casually asks how you’re doing as both of you sprawl out on his couch, trying to wave away his worried face as he hovers far too close to you, telling him it’s just the alcohol making you more emotional than usual.
And you still blame all the drinks he had generously kept refilling for you for the way you sob and cling onto him as he wraps you in a tight hug, telling him how you worry all the time about whether or not you made the right decision to break up with Osamu, whether or not you’re ever going to find someone else, ever going to get married, ever going to have that dream romance you’ve always wanted, ever going to have the happy full family you’ve always yearned for.
It all comes out of you so easily. But everything with Atsumu has always come easy and you don’t think much of it, finding comfort in his solid presence as he continues to hold you, letting him readjust and find a comfortable position-
You scramble to separate from him when lips tenderly meet yours, limbs flailing as you shove the man away from you, eyes comically wide open as you stare agape at Atsumu.
“What are you- We can’t- No no no. All of this is wrong. This would KILL Osamu-”
Something inside of Atsumu snaps when he hears his brother’s name from your lips. Even after all this time, you’re still thinking of him? You still care about him? When the better twin is right in front of your fucking face?
He doesn’t even register he’s shouting those questions in your face, barely registering your terrified eyes as you try to shrink away from him. But your movement of pulling away from him snaps him back to reality and reflexes has his hand twisting in your hair, grabbing you by your roots, fury making him numb to the way you desperately claw at his grip as he drags you to his bedroom.
You’re too focused on soothing your aching skull when he finally releases you by throwing you onto his bed and pitiful tears stream down your face as you gingerly hold your head, ignorant of how the athlete is rummaging through his closet. In hindsight you’ll wonder why you didn’t try to run while his back was turned, although you already know the answer. This is just Atsumu in one of his moods. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’ll apologize in just a second. Those are the thoughts fleeting through your mind amidst the sore ache Atsumu has left behind.
But a warning bell rings relentlessly inside of you as you finally look up when you sense him approaching you, a thick roll of silver duct tape in his hands.
Had Atsumu always looked so...intimidating?
You try to fight back as you’re suddenly pinned to the bed by a muscular body, flailing and thrashing as calloused hands hold your arms above your hand, tightly wrapping your wrists together, looping extra lengths of the tape around the headboard, securely fastening your arms up and out of the way. But it’s useless, pathetic really, although Atsumu thinks there’s something adorable about how hard you’re trying, only to be easily batted away by his much stronger body as he tears off your clothes and bends your knees, taping your calves to your thighs, one side at a time until both your legs are bound.
And then there’s silence and stillness other than your wriggling tied form as Atsumu sits back and admires the view of your naked body, reality so much more lucious and gorgeous than he had ever imagined. You struggle against your tight restraints, recoiling as brown eyes leer at you, ravenously devouring the sight of your heaving breasts, raking down your figure before finally landing on your bare pussy on full display as his hands spread your bound legs on either side of you, palms searing your inner thighs with their unwanted warmth as he holds you open.
One day he won’t need the resilient tape to hold you down and keep you still. One day you’ll let him have you of your own free will. One day you’ll see that he was always the one for you. But he can’t help but feel that there’s something breathtaking about how vulnerable and pretty you are, laid out for him like a wrapped present, something filthily attractive about how striking the silver stripes are against your skin.
One day he won’t need the resilient tape...but that doesn’t mean he'll stop using it.
You shudder as he trails his fingers over the duct tape, grinning at you all the while.
“Can’t have you moving too much if I’m going to breed you. You’ll make all my cum spill out of you.”
He tsks when you frantically struggle at his words, pathetic begs and pleads spilling from your lips as dread fills you from learning exactly what Atsumu has planned for you and suddenly you’re all too aware of just how exposed you are, how tight the front of his pants look as his erection presses against the fabric, how far too close he is to your most intimate part. And you sob as he leans on top of you, pressing his toned body against yours, something hard pressing against your bare pussy as he captures your lips in a kiss to silence you.
“I thought you would be more thankful considering how you were practically in my arms begging me for kids not even a hour ago. And now I’m here ready to give you what you want and you’re making such a fuss.”
He rolls his eyes, scoffing as you only sob even harder, body shaking and trembling, sniveling as you stare up at him with teary eyes, begging him to stop.
“Oh shut up. What? Are you worried about the order of things? Worried I’ll just knock you up and leave you alone? Don’t be stupid. I’ll make sure to put a ring on your finger and marry you after this. Who cares about the order of things when the end result is the same.”
Your mouth opens and shuts a few times, unsure where to even begin telling him just how wrong his reasoning is, unsure how to even process his words. Ring? Marry? What-
But thoughts fly out of your head when a hungry mouth suddenly descends on your breasts, harshly sucking a nipple between wet lips, fingers roughly twisting and pulling at your other nipple and you wail at the jolt of sudden stimulation, too focused on the tongue lapping at your nipples and lances of arousal swirling inside of you to notice how his free hand is shoving his pants and boxers down and off.
You hate how quick you are to melt into the delirious pleasure, body craving for the touch of another, to be brought to new heights by another after being left to your own devices for the past few months and you can feel your pussy clench and throb, feeling so exposed and empty, practically begging to be stuffed full as slick begins to form between your legs. And as if Atsumu can hear your body’s silent cry for more, he begins to push the tip of his cock inside of you and your back arches, mouth instinctively opening as he takes his time, pressing past your tight opening, slipping further and further inside of you until he’s finally fully sheathed inside of you, letting your body adjust to him as he continues licking and sucking on your breasts, groaning as he feels your tight walls clamp around him with every move of his mouth.
Atsumu is not known for his patience, but he tries his damn best to take it as slow as he bearably can for you, dragging his cock back and forth against your gummy walls, constantly adjusting the angle of his hips with every stroke until you’re crying out, and he smirks triumphantly, memorizing the exact position and angle that has you seeing stars as he continuously hits that spongy spot inside of you. And all it takes is for his hand to slide between the two of you and gently circle your clit as he continues his steady assault to have you breaking to pieces underneath him, garbled versions of his name escaping your mouth as your orgasm washes over you in heavy tall waves, his own release joining with yours as your pussy convulses and milks him of his sticky white liquid.
As post-coital bliss disintegrates, shame and relief flood through you, shame for enjoying it, relief that this ordeal is finally over and you wait. Wait for him to remove the tape. Wait for him to pull out of you. Grimacing as he affectionately nuzzles you and litters your face with kisses. But you panic, pure fear flooding through you when you feel his cock twitching inside of you once more, growing inside of you again.
“You didn’t think we were done, did you? Need to make sure I fill you with so much cum that your body has no choice but to get pregnant.”
And he stays true to his words, fucking you over and over again, sometimes hard and rough, sometimes passionate and sensual, sometimes soft and gentle, but always finishing inside of you, adding to the splattered pooling mess inside of you. You feel disgusting, the increasingly wet noises as he thrusts in and out of the sticky wet mess inside of you permeating throughout the room, stomach feeling so bloated with cum that you swear you must be pregnant already.
Quiet, relieved sobs wrack your body when the weight on top of you finally lifts, when he finally pulls out of you and your body slumps down, all the tension leaving it, discomfort taking its place as you feel a torrent of liquid move to rush out of your overfilled cunt, the beginnings of it already starting to trickle out. But despite your aching dry throat, you manage to let out a strangled cry of disbelief when your hips are uncomfortably raised up, upper body almost folded in half as Atsumu keeps your glistening pussy upright, not allowing even a single drop more to escape.
And in this new position you have no choice but to watch, anxiety coursing through you when he tears off another piece of duct tape, chest hyperventilating as he places it over your gaping hole, effectively sealing you shut and despite the fact that you thought you had no more tears left to shed, new salty teardrops slide down your cheeks at the debauched site of your own pussy being treated as nothing more than an object, a receptacle for his seed, his beaming smug face between your legs only adding to your humiliation as he smiles down at his handiwork.
All you can do is mindlessly stare when he directs his smile at you, verbally praising himself for how smart he is for finding a way to keep his cum inside of you and making sure all his hard work doesn’t go to waste, mind and body feeling numb and broken as he finally lets your body lay fully back on the bed, slumping down next to you in exhaustion and cuddling your listless and still bound figure.
“We can go pick out rings together tomorrow, okay? Maybe try a few more times for some runts after. You think the more I cum in you, the better the chance that you’ll have twins?”
You don’t know, but you have a sinking feeling that you’ll soon be finding out.
#haikyuu smut#yandere haikyuu#yandere atsumu#atsumu x reader#yandere atsumu x reader#osamu x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu fic#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#atsumu#miya atsumu#osamu#miya osamu#tw: yandere#tw: noncon#tw: rape#tw: breeding#tw: impregnation
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calculated, m | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: Some people would call you far too serious. Some would call you stuck-up. And some would call you a bitch. But to freshman Jeon Jungkook, you’re the head Calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; intense smut (fem reader, semi-public sex, pussy spanking, fingering, m-receiving oral, doggy, dirty talk); non-idol!AU - university!AU; dom!Jungkook x sub!noona!reader, ft instigator Jimin lol
--
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv
-
"I think Jungkook likes you."
The lead of your mechanical pencil snapped suddenly. Stupid soft graphite. You glared at it, annoyed, and brushed the broken piece away to complete the equation.
"Who?"
"I think he's taking the afternoon class."
You double-checked the last question and handed him his homework back. "Jimin, you used the wrong equation, here and here."
Park Jimin frowned, face falling when he saw all your corrections. Being one of your parents' friends' kids, your parents and his parents naturally asked you to help him out when he entered the same university as you. You pretty much figured the likelihood of Jimin speaking to you was zero, since he was a dance major and you were a graphics design major. You shrugged and agreed.
Except you forgot you were also the head Calculus I TA and Calculus I was a required course for all students. And, turns out, Jimin wasn't that great at math. That's why you were sitting on cushions at your coffee table in your apartment with Park Jimin, watching a music program as you checked his homework.
"Oh."
Jimin began to look over your arrows and circles. You never actually gave him the answer. He usually ended up forgetting a step in the middle and thus fucked the answer. Usually he caught on easily once you pointed it out.
You stared at the television screen, listening to the latest hit. Not bad. Catchy.
"I think I should tell you because he's kind of reckless," Jimin was saying.
You placed a hand under your head and took a sip of your tea, distracted by the cute MC with the blue hair. He had a cute smile. It reminded you of a bunny.
"Who?"
"Jeon Jungkook," Jimin snapped impatiently.
You raised an eyebrow and faced Jimin. "Oi. I'm correcting your homework here. I could just correct it tomorrow and hand it back to you with red marks instead," you threatened.
He pouted at you, his full lower lip sticking out. "Sorry, noona."
You sighed. "Don't call me that. Makes me feel ancient." You turned your body so you faced him as he scowled at his homework. "Okay, okay, I'm listening now. What did you want to say?"
Jimin put his pencil down immediately and began to chat like an excited gossiping auntie. Round brown eyes getting rounder, glad for a break from his math homework. You didn't want to get him started, but he was going to nag you incessantly until you let him talk.
"I think he sits in the back?" Jimin pondered. "Dark longish hair, wears a lot of black. Looks scary when he's thinking because his eyes go really wide and he furrows his brows."
You twisted your mouth to the side and thought. You only attended the class when they had quizzes or exams because during lectures the professor didn't need your help. Mostly you remembered people by their personal scores or their handwriting, because you graded everything as the head TA. Looking at people's faces wasn't really necessary, unless you were looking for cheating.
"Can't recall. I remember his handwriting though. Not bad," you said, shrugging. "I think he's pretty highly ranked at the moment."
"I think he likes you."
You scoffed. "How did you come to that consensus?"
Jimin tapped his temple sagely. "Intuition."
"If only you used that intuition on Calculus."
He frowned at you, pouting again. You let out a puff of air, conceding.
"What do you want me to do about it?"
Jimin scratched the back of his head. "Well, er... I'm just warning you."
"... Is he a serial killer or something?"
"No, no, no!" Jimin waved his hands on the air hurriedly. "He's really nice. But he can be kind of, uh... forward."
"How old is he?" you asked, glancing at the television for a moment as you took another long sip of your tea.
"Two years younger than me."
You choked.
"What?" you squeaked between coughs. Jimin hurried over and patted your back as you struggled, becoming pink in the face. "The fuck? Tell him to find someone his own age."
"I did!" Jimin whined. "But he's stubborn."
You rolled your eyes. "You're warning me that I have to break a poor freshman's heart?"
"Kind of."
You rubbed your throat. "Hmph. Darn whippersnappers these days."
Jimin smacked your arm, laughing. "I thought you weren't ancient?"
"I am now knowing some kid is fantasizing about their fucking Calculus TA."
You had said your comment sarcastically. You fully expected Jimin to make some joke, but he froze up a little. You looked over to him. He looked somewhat guilty, like a lost puppy who got caught stealing food. You sighed and patted his back.
"Don't worry, I won't chew your friend's heart out. Finish your homework, so I don't drop you off too late. You have practice in the morning, yeah?"
"Y-yeah, thanks."
-
Forward, huh?
An understatement.
You were sitting in one of the math department offices, laptop open, your drawing tablet in your lap, thinking. The conversation with Jimin happened about two days ago. In that time, you hadn't attended either morning or afternoon class yet, since it was only lectures. Not that it mattered, because lecture halls were massive. If this Jungkook kid sat in the back, then you probably wouldn't be able to see him anyway. At the moment, however, you were preoccupied with your assignment, to design a logo. Logo designing was difficult, especially since a school assignment didn't exactly have a real client attached to it to ask questions.
Technically these were Calculus I office hours, but who attended office hours? Nobody.
Who attended any type of calculus office hours?
Yeah, exactly.
You spent the time doing homework with the door open. You were the only TA that actually showed up for the office hours. Every other TA said it was a waste of time. It was. You still came through; in the off chance some poor kid decided her grade mattered. You felt bad since the actual professor wasn't very patient when people needed extra help. Also, technically you were the head TA, so you did have a bit more responsibility than the others.
Your black boots were perched on the desk as you sat back in your office chair, sketching a few ideas. If a member of the math department saw you, you would probably get in trouble. Thankfully, the math department was usually deserted. Math wasn't exactly the most social subject.
You took a sip of your tea from your thermos, tapping your tablet pen on your black jean-covered thigh.
"You look even better close-up, noona."
A clear, silvery, male voice cut through the silence. The voice came from the doorframe right in front of the desk. You frowned, slowly lifting your head from your tablet. How had you not heard him? Were you really that focused on your assignment?
Chucky black sneakers. Black cargo pants, slim fit. Distressed black sweater, hands casually in his pockets. Broad shoulders. Lightly tanned skin. Sharp jawline. A tiny mole under a mischievous smile. Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with those sparkling dark brown orbs. Long hair slicked back, with only a few wispy strands on his forehead.
"Calculus I question?" was your response.
His smile quirked a little higher. The young man didn't have a backpack with him. Didn't even have a piece of paper stuck under his arm. Wasn't even trying to pretend that he needed help.
"I have questions."
He didn't elaborate. You lowered your legs, placing your tablet on your laptop.
"This is Calculus I office hours. For calculus questions only."
His eyes flickered to your laptop and tablet. Back to you.
"Is this what the TAs should be doing during office hours?"
Suddenly, you could feel your pulse in your ears. Point taken.
"What do you want?"
He slid into the chair across from the desk, hands still in his pockets. Watching you carefully, still smiling thoughtfully. It should have been unnerving, but there was no malice in that smile. Maybe you were imagining it though, so you kept your guard up.
"I'm Jeon Jungkook."
Yeah, I guessed, you thought wryly. "And my name is on the syllabus. What do you want?"
He tilted his head at you, studying your face.
"How do you know Jimin-ssi?"
Isn't Jimin older than you, punk? "Our parents are friends."
He nodded slowly. He looked around the windowless office, at the three papers tacked to the wall – outdated notices – to the still open door, to the desk with your laptop, tablet, and backpack. Then to you, sitting back in the black office chair, eyebrow raised, hands half-in the sleeves of your gray flannel, cropped black sweater underneath.
"I think you're beautiful, noona."
Your brain winced at the compliment and your hormones looked up from the abyss. Your brain scolded them to go back to their hidey-hole. You clicked your tongue.
"I'm too old for you."
There was an ever-so-slight tick of his head. His eyes shifted downward and then flicked back up to you, almost shyly, if it wasn't for the small smirk dancing on his lips.
"We both know such a mindset is outdated."
You felt your breath catch in your throat. The fuck? Your hormones peeked out again. Your brain was too distracted with trying to find a comeback to tell them to fuck off. You figured you better cut this off right now before it went too far.
"This whole conversation is inappropriate," you said evenly, standing up from the chair and rolling it back. You walked around the desk and stood in front of it, balancing your ass against it. You crossed your arms over your breasts. "You should leave."
He slowly, slowly gazed up at you. Why did he look so satisfied? Your heart did a little three beat skip. Stop it. Keep it together. Jungkook got to his feet, hands still in his pockets. Then he pulled them out and pushed his sleeves up.
Oh?
Tattoos ran up his right arm, the beginnings of a sleeve. Ink black against light tan, flexed muscle. He was not a skinny pretty boy. You were so busy staring at his arms that you barely registered him placing them casually on either side of you, face right next to yours. Now you were staring down at his broad chest, at his black distressed sweater.
"Excuse me?" you snapped testily, lifting your head to look into his smug eyes.
"I won't touch you," Jungkook murmured quietly. "Unless you ask me to."
This punk ass bitch.
You narrowed your eyes. "What makes you think I would?"
That small teasing smile came back.
"Well, for one, you haven't actually told me you have absolutely no interest yet."
Your hormones prodded you excitedly. Your brain told them to shut up. Your eyes moved to the open door behind his head, looking into the empty hall, trying to keep a balanced, even tone. It came out a little sharper than you intended.
"Door's wide open."
"Embarrassed to be seen with me?" Jungkook purred, breath on your cheek.
You tried not to react even though your hormones were fucking losing it. "What about you?" you shot back sharply.
You heard Jungkook chuckle. "Fuck no I'm not." Your heart jerked heading the crude word come out so daintily and casually from his lips. "I want to be seen with you. All the time. In every position."
You finally tore your eyes from the open door to give him the side-eye. "Real big words there."
Jungkook smirked. "I'm giving you a chance to tell me no. It's taking everything in me not to bend you over this desk right now and fuck your brains out."
You sucked in a breath. Accidentally. Not on purpose. There's absolutely no way Jungkook would have noticed unless he was literally right next to you. Which he was. Shit. He leaned in closer, still not actually touching you.
"You like that idea?" he breathed, the lust evident in his voice, not even trying to hide it.
"I am not some easy bitch at the club, Jungkook. This is the fucking math department," you scolded, eye-level to the base of his neck, wanting very badly to make out with it.
Now it was his turn to inhale sharply. He pulled his head back, and now you were face-to-face with those dark, dark eyes, falling, falling, your body screaming at you to do more. And still you didn’t, torn between reason and instinct.
"I'm so pissed," he growled, breath against your lips. "That the first time I hear you say my name, I wasn't watching your pretty lips form it."
Those few strands brushed against his exposed forehead, framing his furrowed brow and those intense dark brown eyes, making you breathless, telling you that you should, even though the last shreds of reason were telling you, do not, do not, do not give in to Jeon Jungkook.
"It's the middle of the damn day," you murmured.
"And you make me horny every second of every day," he groaned, so close now that his nose almost touched yours. "With your stem stare, your assertive stride, your well-spoken words, and your beautiful body that demands to be kissed, loved, fucked." He panted, shoulders shaking. "God, I want you under me so bad. You have no idea, noona."
Resolve? Hello, where are you?
You raised an eyebrow. "You think you're enough for me?"
His dark eyes gleamed.
"I know I am."
Your eyes flickered to the open door, the vacant hall, feeling Jungkook's body heat hovering so close, so close to you, and then you shifted your eyes back to him. Your brain was screaming at you and your hormones bonked your brain silent. The words at the tip of your tongue came tumbling out, nothing to hold them back anymore.
"Let's see."
And then you kissed him.
Jungkook’s reaction was immediate, his large hands leaving the desk, grabbing your waist, ramming his crotch into you. You gasped against his soft lips and he slid his tongue inside, playing with yours, moaning, kissing you hungrily. His fingers pressed into you through your clothes, strong, tight, unforgiving. Your eyes flew open, surprised at his eagerness. He retreated his tongue and nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it lightly. You shivered, feeling him lift you onto the desk, pushing your legs open with his hips, grinding against you. He kissed down your chin, lifting your head impatiently, moaning against your skin. Every gentle kiss a jolt to your system, contrasting with his rough hands kneading your waist, pulling you close against his firm body, the fucking desk cutting into your thighs, eyelids fluttering.
There was movement at the door.
You froze.
Jungkook’s lips latched onto your neck, sucking sharply. You choked back a wanton moan, seeing a familiar face. A familiar, plump smile with cute, lovely eyes. He waved a small hand at you and reached for the doorknob, locking it from the inside before winking at you and closing the door silently.
Park fucking Jimin.
That bas–
Your thought was sharply cut off by Jungkook nipping at your throat, hissing as he rolled his hips into your thigh, a distinct bulge pressing into you. He yanked down the front of your sweater, sucking on the space right between your collarbones. You whimpered and shuddered, wrapping a leg around his waist and hooking him towards you, hands finally leaving your chest and grabbing his, fingers getting caught in the holes of his sweater.
“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m so fucking hard already because you’re so fucking hot.”
You caught yourself against the desk, elbow slamming onto the wood. You winced. “I haven’t done shit,” you said, surprised to feel your lips slightly swollen.
Jungkook grinned. “You don’t have to. Just you below me is enough.”
You glared at him and he bent over the desk, grabbing the back of your head, pushing your face to his, kissing you again, stealing your breath. It was the perfect mix of force and desperation, leaving you yielding, back arching as he sucked on your tongue, bobbing his head up and down slightly to pull on it. You tried not to make noise – everything was already too noisy anyway – only crying out softly when he let you go. Now you were on your elbows with Jungkook towering over you, licking his lips, the spare strands now stuck to his exposed forehead. His eyes roamed over your body before landing back on your face. You gave him your best questioning look.
He chuckled darkly. “I want to rip all your clothes off, but something tells me you will be upset with me.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Because this is still the middle of the math department, let me remind you, Jungkook.” You huffed. “I don’t live here. Don’t get crazy.”
He grinned, leaning forward. “Say my name again, noona. God, let me watch your delicious lips speak my fucking name.”
You raised your eyebrows. Then you felt his hands on your jeans, undoing the button, making you jump. The zipper going down, down. He yanked at the seam, digging it into your already wet pussy, shoving your panties into your slit.
“A-ah, Jungkook…”
Oh fuck. That sounded kind of pathetic.
He bit his lower lip, and yanked again.
“J-Jungkook, ah…” Your eyelids fluttered, trying to keep your strict demeanor.
“Fuck,” he hissed, firmly gripping the waistband of your jeans and pulling them down your ass, half-dragging your panties down. “You like that, noona? Do you want me to be rough with you?”
You prayed to the higher power that he would just take the damn hint and not make you say it. But Jungkook was dragging your panties back up, the thin black fabric being sucked into your folds and ass as he pulled them far too high. You gasped, trying not to look down, trying not to look at his face. But he grabbed your chin, dragging you back to him, making you open your glazed eyes, making you see his excited expression.
“Look at me, noona.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Jungkook held the front of your panties and pulled, hard. You had to choke back a moan, the fabric nearly ripping, rubbing harshly against your clit. You felt the squelch of you getting wetter, hearing it clearly as he yanked at it, stimulating your clit.
“Tell me you don’t like it, noona,” Jungkook whispered hotly, letting go of your chin. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”
You spread your legs involuntarily, trying very hard not to make a fucking sound, but it was already obvious by your fists clenched against the desk, your widespread legs, and your pussy lips practically sucking your panties in, so much so that they nearly disappeared into you.
Jungkook snuck a glance down, gasping softly at your glistening pussy being tortured by your panties. He dropped to his knees and you had only one second to be confused before Jungkook’s tongue licked up your slit. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to avoid crying out, leaving your sounds limited to muffled whimpers as he lapped at your juices, groaning into you. Your entire lower body vibrated as he teased your covered clit, smushing the fabric into your deeper, rougher. Your hips strained, trying to hump his face but only digging your panties into you harder.
You removed your hand from your face, biting on your tongue to regain some semblance of thought so you fucking talk.
“T-take it off…” you gasped. You looked down, seeing his mischievous eyes above your quivering mound, licking his lips slowly, pink tongue tracing the contours of his mouth.
Jungkook raised his hand.
Smack!
This time you had to actually shove to knuckles into your mouth and mute your squeal as pain radiated through you, your pussy stinging. He slapped you again, right on your clit, hard, making your throw your head back and nearly hit the desk, hips raising to meet him. Oh, God. He pressed his finger against your aching clit, rubbing hard, standing up to bend over you, an impossibly strong presence as he pleasured you.
“Say it, noona,” he breathed. “Tell me you like getting your pussy spanked.”
He was rubbing your clit so hard that you felt your hips raise into it, eyes rolling back into your head.
“Say it or I’ll stop,” he warned menacingly, voice so low it ripped through you.
You tore your knuckles out of your mouth. “Don’t stop, please, fuck, Jungkook, I love it when you spank my clit, fuck, please, fuck.” The words came jumbling out in a rushed, half-panicked whisper, cut off by your sharp gasp as your orgasm clawed into you. You felt Jungkook slap his free hand over your mouth, shutting off your wail as your throbbed into his hand, turning into helpless whines as he spanked your clit hard and fast, accentuating your high with waves of sudden, aching pain. You pushed his hand away, pressing your head against the desk, gasping.
“Harder, please, Jungkook, harder.”
He was staring at your fucked-out face, massaging your throbbing pussy with his palm, coating his fingers with your cum. Your voice a thin moan, hips rutting into him.
“Believe me, I want to,” he snarled. “I want to so fucking bad, noona, but we’re already loud enough and you’re making a fucking mess.”
He pulled your panties down, nearly useless at this point and roughly shoved two fingers into you. You gasped, tongue lolling out and he took the chance to put two fingers of his free hand into your mouth, rubbing your wet tongue. You could feel every joint, the calluses of his fingertips as he thrust them into you, slopping, wet sounds accompanying his movements.
“Fuck, look at you, noona, sucking in my fingers, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jungkook murmured, centimeters away from your face. “I haven’t even fucked you with my cock yet and you’re already taking me so well.”
If you could think, you probably would have a snappy response, but Jungkook was stuffing his fingers into your mouth and scissoring the others inside your pussy, driving you insane. You made eye contact with Jungkook, him and his blown-out pupils, his lips trembling as he rammed his fingers into your holes faster, harder, sliding you up the wooden desk. Something inside you snapped and you squeezed your eyes shut, your body shaking as you came again, trying to yell, but unable to because Jungkook shoved his fingers into your throat, making you almost choke if it wasn’t for your own expertise. An embarrassing amount of liquid poured down his hand and wrist, dripping down your thighs. You clamped your legs shut, burying his hand, hips jerking as the aftershocks rippled through you.
You heard Jungkook swallow loudly, jaw tight. He slowly pulled his fingers out of both holes, strings of bodily fluid following him as he did so. Your shaking knees were barely holding your lower body up, jeans constricting your calves and your upper body way too fucking hot.
You laid back on the wood, trying to catch your breath. Was it a fucking cliché? Probably. You felt Jungkook lift himself off the desk and you closed your eyes, chest heaving. Of course. He was just going to leave you like this, tearing your secret out of you and then leaving to boast about how he turned the head Calculus I TA into a helpless, submissive puddle of goo without even actually fucking you. Why did you even bother–
You suddenly felt the desk creak and snapped your eyes open to Jungkook climbing onto it, straddling your chest, unzipping his pants right in front of your face. His slicked hair was becoming unfurled now, more and more dark strands falling down around his ears. His brow furrowed, eyes so wide and focused you weren’t even sure he was actually looking at you.
“Uh–”
He reached in his black boxer briefs impatiently and pulled out his thick, leaking cock. Your eyes widened and his found yours, glittering with arousal. A smear of pre-cum grazed your cheek as he adjusted his position to push the red, bulbous tip against your lips.
“I want to fuck you, noona, but you have to clean me up,” Jungkook breathed, gently asking you but also trying to greedily push his dick into your mouth.
You could say something, but somehow you concluded you were going to be muffled anyway, so you opened your mouth, tongue snaking out and licking the head. Flat, wide, and all over, coating your tongue with his pre-cum, moaning at his taste. Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lower lip, hissing softly as he spread his legs even more, lowering himself slowly into your mouth. You licked around his cock before closing your lips and sucking, growing wet as he thrust his hips into your mouth, slow and steady, eyes closed. You reached up to hold onto his thighs, whimpering as you felt his muscular quads through his pants. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, sliding his cock in a little deeper, hitting the back of your throat.
“Fuck, noona, so fucking sexy, taking my cock like that,” he groaned, reaching down and pushing your hair out of your eyes. His dark hair hung down, framing his face in shadow, making your pussy throb at the image. “Makes me want to fill all your holes up, makes me want to coat you with my cum and see you covered in it, messy and dirty with me.”
You couldn’t say anything so you just whined, nails digging into his covered thighs.
“You want that?” His voice dropped several octaves again. Your skin prickled hotly with every word. “You want me to jack off all over you and leave you a mess covered with my cum?”
You squeezed your thighs together, desperate for friction, now moving your head to suck harder, rubbing the tip fiercely against the back of your throat.
“F-fuck,” he gritted out. He tapped your hand hurriedly, eyelids fluttering. “S-stop, stop.” You whimpered, sadly looking up at him. He chuckled, rubbing your knuckles soothingly.
Look here you little shit, you can’t say all that dirty stuff and not expect me to be horny, your eyes were telling him.
“I know, I know,” he purred. “But I want to fuck your pussy and office hours are almost over…”
You glowered at him, but reluctantly unhinged your jaw, opening your lips. He slid out, gasping, hitting you in the chin and getting the front of your sweater wet.
“You’re a jerk,” you muttered as he climbed off you.
Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry, noona.”
You shook your hair and reached into your backpack, pulling out a condom, only to turn around and see Jungkook pulling one out of his back pocket.
“Oh.” You blinked at him. “You’re prepared.”
Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows. “I knew what I was coming for.”
A muscle in your brow twitched as he tucked his tongue in his cheek, grinning widely at you as he ripped it open and slid it on slowly, rolling it down his thick cock. His voice changed, dipping raspy and low.
“Turn around.”
Part of you wanted to fight, but then you spied the time. You rolled onto your stomach, sighing exaggeratedly as your legs tangled a bit in your jeans. You felt Jungkook’s presence behind you as he bent over your back, hand sliding over your lips and covering your mouth.
“Sigh all you want, noona,” he growled, chuckling as you shivered. “Just don’t scream when I’m fucking you.”
Your eyes widened as you felt the head press against your puffy pussy lips, pushing in forcefully, expanding your tight little hole as his cock entered you, his moan against your ear, your name dripping with lust. Both of you still mostly clothed, but his cock sliding deep, deep inside you, his teeth on your earlobe. Your walls throbbed around him, squeezing him. He gasped, jutting his hips experimentally into you. A stifled moan sneaked past his fingers, your tongue licking them lightly.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Nice and tight for me, bent over this desk.” He nipped at your ear, whispering softly as he began to fuck you. “What if someone hears you, whimpering for my cock, begging to be fucked?”
Your hands clenched into fists, eyes fluttering shut, feeling him pound you into the wood, deep and slow and far too perfect.
“Noona, what if someone sees you?” His voice like smoke, invading all your thoughts, threatening your dreams, cursing you with the feeling of his lips on your ear and his hips pounding your ass. “Proper, harsh, strict noona turning into a slut for this cock, bent over this desk and humping my hips so you can get this dick deeper inside you?”
You squeezed your eyes shut and wiggled your ass against his cock. He thrust his hips harder into you, jerking you forcefully upwards, your thighs smacking against the desk. Light flickered in front of your closed eyelids and you opened them, seeing your phone screen glaring at you. A message from Jimin. Finish already! You struggled to say his name and Jungkook lifted his hand for a moment to hear your shaking breath.
“Jungkook,” you panted. “Time.”
He covered your mouth again. “You’re right,” he grunted, rolling his hips into you, biting back his moans as you clenched around him. The wet, slapping sounds became louder as he changed his angle, fucking you roughly into the table. It pushed your hips up and you clung onto the edge of the desk, moaning around his hand, tongue pressed flat against his palm as he fucked you with reckless abandon, beating a damn indent of the edge of the desk into your thighs. The dull ache was going to lead to a bruise, but you didn’t care, pushing your hips back to meet him. A choked wail vibrated in your throat as you came again, whole body lurching as he sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder, groaning as he came inside you, cock twitching and throbbing against your walls. You felt the condom expand, matched with Jungkook’s hiss as he pumped into you. You pulsed your pussy around him and he detached his mouth, whispering your name against your ear.
“You’re dirty, noona,” he rasped, the words so breathless they made you shiver. “I love it.”
You shakily reached up and peeled his hand from your mouth, gasping as he straightened to hold the condom and pull out of you. Fuck. Oh fuck. You scrambled for your phone, seeing Jimin’s text.
You better rush outta there, noona.
You heard the wet, peeling sound of Jungkook pulling the used condom off gingerly. You turned around, hissing at Jungkook before he threw it in the trash.
“Are you crazy?” you muttered, snatching it from him. “Someone will see.”
Jungkook blinked at you. “What else do I do with it?”
You glared at him and tied it up, grabbing some tissues and wrapping it inside. Then you shoved it in your backpack, along with your laptop, your tablet, the spare condom, and reaching over the desk to unplug your laptop’s AC adaptor so you could shove that in your bag too.
“Fuck, your ass is so sexy,” Jungkook marveled behind you.
“Jungkook, we have to get the fuck out of here, so pack your damn dick,” you ordered, yanking your jeans up. Squelch. You sucked in your lower lip in at the cold, uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You zipped your bag and checked around the desk to make sure you took everything. You grabbed your phone and shoved it in your back pocket, turning around to see Jungkook rezipping his pants. Thank God. You might have been tempted if he hadn’t listened to you. Then you remembered the two bits of condom wrapping on the floor and picked those up too, shoving them in your other pocket.
Jungkook smirked at you. “So thorough, noona.”
You scowled at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in this situation before, but you sure as hell have.
“Stay here for twenty seconds and then leave.”
Jungkook pouted at you. You felt your heart skip a beat.
“But I don’t even have your number.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ask Jimin. You two are in cahoots anyway.” You popped your head out, looking around. No one. You popped your head back in. “Also, you owe me new panties the next time I see your smug little face, you punk,” you added, tone irate.
He smirked at you; his long dark hair wispy around his playful eyes.
You gave him one last look before you tore your eyes away, rushing through every back stairway to get the hell out of there before someone could realize you just fucked a freshman during office hours, your slopping, torn-up panties reminding you with every step that you really needed Jeon Jungkook to fuck you again.
-
part ii
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masterpost
#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#bts smut#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jeon jungkook x you#jungkook fanfic
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loving can be easy
warnings!! nsfw!! mature content
dad!johnny x wife!reader
the sun shone brightly, casting a warmth that was almost unbearable with its rays. johnny sat at the table that was accompanied with a large umbrella, trying to stay hidden from the blazing sun, much to his dismay, from spending the past week in the sun, a golden glow had accompanied his skin. to compliment his new tan, his wife dressed him up in a white silk button up and black trousers. the sleeves of the shirt were short, just long enough to tease the muscle he was hiding underneath. mentally, johnny thanked jaehyun for forcing him to attend a gym, the time spent there feeling all gross and sweaty paid off when johnny caught his wife ogling him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. sat by the older man's side, with a book also in his hands, was his son jacob. he had grown tired from playing with his baby sister with the sun blaring down on them and went to seek peace and refuge, in the form of his dad. they had both sat in silence, enjoying the quiet and calm atmosphere.
as the two boys were reading, a little further from them, out of earshot but still in eyesight, was y/n and chunhwa. intentionally, y/n had matched the colour of her dress to her husband's shirt. her soft white dress stopped at her knees and gave a perfect view of her collar bones and slender neck, free of any markings. y/n held her daughter's hand as they both tried to find the prettiest flowers to make a bouquet from. so far they had been successful.
"i'm tired," the four year old groaned as her skin felt sticky with sweat. y/n chuckled before lifting her daughter into her arms.
"let's go back to daddy and jake, hmm?" y/n watched as chunhwa rested her small head against her shoulder. the hot weather had taken a toll on both of the kids. sweetly, y/n caressed her daughter's back.
within a few minutes they had reached the cobblestone path that lead them to the table that johnny and jake were occupying. the sight of her older brother caused chunhwa to stir, wanting to be put down so she could run to him. in her childish eyes, there was no one more perfect than her older brother. chunhwa ran to him as fast as her small little legs could.
"don't run!" jacob said with a scowl, the action didn't go unnoticed by his dad, before scooting in his chair to make room for his sister. jacob began to speak softer at the feeling of johnny’s intense stares, "you could have fell." chunhwa didn't mind getting told off by her brother because it meant he was paying attention to her, just like her dad would pay attention to her mum.
although, there were four chairs spread around the circular table, johnny found himself gesturing for his wife to sit with him. he tucked his chair out slightly, scraping against the gravel on the floor, and held his hands out for her to join him on his lap. johnny always had to have his wife within his arms whenever she was near, she was like an enigma.
"did you find any nice flowers?" johnny asked as he rested his arms around y/n's waist, bringing her close to him as he possibly could. y/n nodded as she chose a single pink flower, from the bunch that were collected, and rested it on johnny’s ear. as sweet as sickeningly possible, johnny smiled at his wife before pressing a chaste kiss to the side of her head.
as soon as the sun began to set, the family of four moved indoors, where the air conditioning was blasting and they were collecting all the items of the second home. johnny had originally planned to buy the cottage they were residing in as a birthday gift for y/n but somehow his father beat him to it and offered it as a wedding gift, claiming that it was all his mother's idea.
despite the heat, the two children were able to fall asleep peacefully in their individual bedrooms, even though it took everything out of y/n to get chunhwa used to sleeping in her own bed. having zero energy left, y/n sighed as she collapsed onto the bed, johnny snorting from beside her. "get your cute ass up, we have bags to pack." he said from his seat on the floor, surrounded by clothes.
"john, i'm so tired," y/n rolled over on the bed to get closer to her husband's side, "can we not just do this tomorrow morning?" with one glance at her exhausted expression, johnny sighed as he left the clothing articles on the floor and joined y/n on the bed. he slipped an arm under her head as the other rested against her waist, rubbing small circles on her hip. y/n let out a content hum as she began to close her eyes.
johnny couldn't suppress the desire to hold her face, his warm hand leaving her hip and caressing her cheeks with his thumb. it had been so long since they had a moment where it was solely just the two of them; no work, no kids, nothing.
“you better not complain in the morning,” johnny began to pepper his wife’s face with kisses, showering her with attention. y/n's eyes fluttered open as she was about to say something to defend herself. however, her husband saw it was an opportunity to kiss her senseless. his hand moved down to cup her jaw as he slowly but deeply kissed her, making her loose all senses. y/n's fingers crushed the silk material of his shirt as she grasped onto his chest.
"the kid's are asleep," she breathed as johnny had pulled back for a moment. only for him to shift their positions, y/n was no longer on her side but lead on her back, staring up at him with full blown eyes. she fought to let out a groan as he unbuttoned his shirt off of him, only to expose his bare torso to her. within the next few seconds, johnny clambered over her again, lips attached with hers, hands trailing down her body leaving a hot burning trail in it's midst. he had nestled himself sweetly between her thighs, a position that they hadn't been in a long time. his lips began to trail down south, teeth grazing against her neck, biting at her skin every so often, before softly kissing her clothed stomach. "how about we make baby number three, hmm?" the idea of her stomach swelling with his child, had increasingly become too much for him to handle. johnny looked up at his wife, the dark look of lust dancing in his eyes. "i'll fuck you on this bed till you become pregnant with my baby," the whispers of his lewd words in y/n's ears left her biting her lip to conceal her moans, it didn't help that johnny’s wandering hands were dipped under her dress, so close to where she needed him most. he could see from her heaving chest and the desire burning in her eyes, that she needed this as badly as he did.
“come on mommy, don’t you want me to fill you up?” johnny’s fingers slipped past her soaked underwear, pressing just the tips of his fingers against her clit. the other hand squeezed the flesh of her soft breast, perfectly accommodating to the size of his palm. y/n whimpered at the sensations, red heat flushing her cheeks. “of course you do,” johnny scoffed at his wife’s face, so desperate for him, “you’re such a slut for me that you already gave me two kids.”
"i swear to god johnny seo, if you don't touch me you won't be having anymore kids," the demanding tone of y/n's voice didn't sit well with johnny’s fat ego and she knew it wouldn't, it would only rile him up. johnny aggressively smashed his lips against hers as a way to shut his wife up. there was no longer any sense of sweetness, just pure desire. he let out a small groan at the feeling of fingers brushing against his bulge, as y/n hurriedly began to unbuckle his designer belt and push his slacks down. a harsh curse was muttered under johnny’s breath as y/n groped his length.
the pair rid themselves of all articles of clothing, leaving them bare in each other’s presence and wandering hands. johnny’s lips found his partner’s once again, kissing with such intensity that he stole all her oxygen. y/n moans were swallowed by johnny as he quickly eased himself into her warm cunt. no matter how often they indulged in each other, the tightness of y/n’s cunt never differed, even after birthing his children.
slowly, johnny began to rock his hips into y/n’s, not being able to stay still in her warmth for long. “you won’t leave this bed till your pregnant, do you understand?” his demand was met with the sound of his wife moaning in agreement under him. johnny smirked, his face full of pride. he had barely touched y/n yet she was already drunk off his ministrations.
johnny knew his wife’s body like the back of his hand. he knew where to tickle to make y/n a giggling mess. he knew where the scar, from when she fell over trying to chase after him, was on her knee. he also knew where to touch to give his wife the most pleasurable orgasm, that would leave her senseless.
one hand fisted into the bedsheets to hold himself whilst johnny’s other hand rubbed small circles against y/n’s sensitive and swollen clit, her walls clenched in response to the overbearing pleasure.
“right there john,” y/n managed to mewl out, she was too afraid that if she said anything more her children might wake up. the last thing either of them wanted was for one of their kids to walk in on them.
johnny lowered himself till he was near y/n’s ear, “ah, did mommy forget what to call me?” despite her disgust at the title, johnny knew that his wife loved it, he could practically feel the effect it had on her and her throbbing walls.
“d-daddy...” y/n threw her head back at the feeling of her husband kissing along her chest, eager to leave marks in the form of multiple blooming bruises. y/n gasped at the feeling of johnny’s lips around her breast, he lightly tugged at her nipple, eliciting a cry from his wife.
the bedroom was quiet, y/n and johnny trying their best to keep their volume at a minimal level. johnny let out a guttural groan when he felt his wife’s cunt spasming around his dick. he was so close. his thrusts became sloppier before completely stilling as his cum filled the walls of flesh. exhaustion slowly began to overcome the man, soft hot breath falling between his wife’s neck.
“i hope we have another boy,” johnny’s voice was low. having no more strength, his body draped over y/n’s, crushing her under him so the poor woman couldn’t leave him, not that she ever would. y/n raked the dark locks of her husband’s soft hair between her fingers. a soft smile falling on her face when she noticed johnny leaning into her touch ever so slightly.
“what do you think about twins?”
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Love and Letter
pairing : college student! Yuta Nakamoto x secret admirer
word count : 4.5k words
genre : fluff
summary : A series of letters melt the anti-love’s heart.
warnings : cursing
For the “...dear you” collab hosted by @theje0ngs 😄
I had fun writing for this story. I’m sorry if I posted this early, I’m just so excited to show this to you. Please enjoy and leave feedback. 😁
Nakamoto Yuta. The perfect embodiment of the rebel guy moms would always remind young girls to get away from. Pierced ears, long hair that defies the school rule, a scowl on his face as if hating everyone which he does. A total rebel that is feared by students and teachers alike. The classic bad guy who never showed up for classes, only staying a minute for attendance roll call then skipping.
And he wanted it to stay like this for the whole year.
Why does he have to attend Creative Literature class when he’s not even a Literature major? Annoyed, he pushed the door of his locker and was startled when a piece of paper fell from the said locker. His name was written in front in cursive form. To say that he’s not intrigued is a total lie but he waited until he was seated in class when he unfolded the paper.
‘Hi, Yuta.
Please don’t be alarmed, I’m not a bad person.
I notice you a lot in the school hallways and honestly, you’re a little scary.
I know you’re a nice person. Please lighten up a bit.
XOXO,🍎’
A chuckle escaped his lips. Just a little scary? Him? A nice person? Isn’t this weird? Who in their right mind would make an absurd letter like this?
But a smile escaped his lips as his mind drifted on the letter in his pocket. Should he start smiling more? Talk to some classmates? Maybe he can find out who wrote the letter. Fuck, this is so dangerous.
Although it is ultimately different from his usual aura, he greeted the discipline director waiting by the school gate. He also gave a bow to the teachers he passed, smiling lightly at his classmates he only recognized by faces. They were obviously surprised at the sudden shift in his attitude but greeted him as well. By lunchtime, he was hanging out with the guys in his Physics class and laughing at their jokes.
‘I don’t know if you received my letter the first time but I noticed that you’ve been a little brighter and that you’ve been hanging out with some friends.
That’s nice.
I’m happy to see you happier.
Thank you for making my days brighter, Yuta.
XOXO,🍎’
Yuta smiled. But it was the letter sender who made his days brighter. Does that person like him so much? Or is this something that is made up? He doesn’t want to know but he liked the feeling of receiving the letter.
He’s used to it by now, saying good morning to the school guard and the discipline director before entering the school gate. He would smile at the other students who were early for class, even helping some with their things.
Every morning, he would pass by the school’s soccer field. His turf back in high school. If only he continued playing soccer, maybe he can be a part of the team and defeat these guys with terrible form. He smiled while rubbing the back of his head, walking to where the Arts building is. Soccer isn’t for him.
‘Do you like Messi?
I noticed you’ve always stopped by the soccer field every morning.
Maybe you can try out for the soccer team. Didn’t you use to play for the team back in high school?
It will be cool to see you play again.
XOXO,🍎’
He glanced around to see if someone was watching him read the letter but the students are busy with their own things. That person knows that he plays soccer back in high school? Is that person a schoolmate from before? But he’ll have a hard time locating who it is considering that he went to a local high school near the university.
Is this a sign from above? Should he really try out for soccer? He did miss the feeling of the ball in his feet, the smell of the grassy field, and the excitement it brought him. Why did he even stop playing for a girl who never cared about him?
With the letter in his pocket, Yuta got accepted in the soccer team. The coach even thanked him repeatedly for changing his mind, claiming that he had been coaxing Yuta into applying since his freshman days. The guy only smiled, rubbing his head while apologizing. “The soccer golden boy is back.” And he is. He’s happy to be back.
But training is so tedious that it startled him. Back in high school, training is such a piece of cake. Why did you have to run fifty laps around the field now? Maybe his body is really startled that for the first time in his college life, he got sick. For two days, he skipped school and just stay at home to rest. Now, he’s debating if playing soccer is all worth it. Should he quit? But he just started. Can his body take on this intense training?
His friends were greeting him when he returned to school. The other guys from the soccer team teasing him that it’s like that at the first time but he’ll get over this. Hopefully, he will. There isn’t a letter in his locker that made him feel odd. Well, what did he expect? Maybe it already stopped. But he kinda liked it. Even looking forward to it every morning.
“Dude, you have to attend creative literature tomorrow.” Jungwoo, one of his classmates on the said subject claimed. “We already paired for the project. Your partner seemed really down.”
Yuta laughed at that. “Who is my partner?”
“Y/N. She always comes early in class, sitting on the back row.”
“A girl? Can’t I pair up with you instead?” He revolted quickly that made his friend reason out that nothing will be done if they pair up for the project even asking him the golden question of all, ‘Why are you so scared of girls?’ But Yuta just shrugged, not wanting to explain it to him.
‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
I’m glad you’re feeling fine and that you’re back in class.
Also, the apple juice from the vendo machine tastes great.
I hope you’re not allergic to apples.’
XOXO,🍎’
Funny, that person will say that. He isn’t. And it’s not bad to try it out.
When he entered the room for their creative literature class, he immediately saw the girl Jungwoo was describing with her face buried in the book. Why is he even scared of talking to a girl?
Yuta breathed hard before sitting beside her. “Y/N? Am I correct?” He asked which made the girl turn to him. Yuta handed her the same apple juice he’s drinking. “I’m Yuta Nakamoto and we’re partners for the project?”
The girl nodded, thanking him for the drink. “It’s an epistolary piece we should make…”
“Epis…? What?”
She lightly giggled at that which made him stare. “Epistolary.” She said emphasizing all syllables. “It’s a letter-type fiction. We write a story using letters.” Yuta nodded at that. Letters. “I have the idea already but since it’s a pair project, I can’t start on it until I show you.”
Can’t she show it now? Can she just do the project without his help or without talking to each other? “Do you want to discuss it after class? I’ll be in the library if…”
“I have soccer practice.” He immediately said that made her stop. He gave her his phone, asking if they can just talk through messages that made her nod, typing her number in. The moment she returned the phone, he immediately stood up to talk to his friend, Taeyong, in the first row.
---------
“You just ditched her?” Taeyong asked that made Yuta ruffle his hair. He shouldn’t have told him. “That’s a pair project, Nakamoto. You’ll both get a zero if you don’t cooperate.”
Yuta showed the text message he shared with Y/N. “She said she’ll just do it. She’s smart. She can do it.”
The other shook his head. “Why can’t you just talk to her? Y/N isn’t bad. The thing you’re scared of with girls. I’m sure Y/N isn’t like that.” He raised an eyebrow at him. “All I’m saying is that you should stop being this total jerk on her. He’s not like your ex, Yuta.” That took his attention. How did he know that? “There are talks around.” But before he could ask him to elaborate, Taeyong turned a sharp left.
The rain was falling hard that made Yuta sigh while taking out his umbrella. Soccer practice ended early because of the muddy ground that made him hate the rain. Today, of all days? He just returned from sickness and yet there’s no training. As he neared the steps of the building, he saw a familiar girl with her hand held out in the pouring rain. “Y/N.” he called.
The girl gave him a timid smile before returning to what she was doing. Weird. Does she love the rain so much? “Do you have an umbrella?” He asked that made her shake her head. “Do you want to share? I can walk you to the bus stop.”
“It’s fine, Yuta.” Y/N whispered while shaking her head. Once again, she started playing with the droplets of rain. Truly odd. Maybe Taeyong is right, she really is different. Yuta handed the umbrella that startled her, “Yuta!” But he was already running in the rain. Shit, he might get sick again with this.
‘It’s been raining non-stop this past few days. It’s so gloomy.
Also, I learned a new word today.
Niwakaame.
Isn’t it Japanese?
Rain Shower.
I love the rain shower.
How about you? I hope you don’t hate the rain as much.
It helps water the plants, you know?
XOXO,🍎’
A giggle escaped his lips. It does, doesn’t it?
He just had a reason to like the rain.
Since soccer practices had been on hold because of the rainy weather, he would always find himself in the library working on that epistolary piece with Y/N. She would always type her ideas and he would check if it was alright. But really, what does he know about all of this?
He was just thankful that she became his partner, she's really smart and creative. He'll probably pass creative literature with ease because of her help. Another thing is that she never talks when she's in front of her laptop and he was thankful that she's saving them from awkwardness.
He put on the straw of the apple juice before slipping it beside her notebook. Yuta returned to his comic book when he heard her say in a soft voice, "I didn't know you like apples." Yeah, he honestly didn't know that he did either.
‘Soccer is such a boring sport for me before. Why does it take so long for players to score a goal?
But watching you play, scoring that goal in the last minute, I’ve never felt that thrill and happiness before.
Congratulations!
And if no one told you this before, I guess I’ll have to tell you now.
You are really cool, Yuta Nakamoto!
XOXO,🍎’
The class was cheering with excitement when Yuta entered the room, everyone was congratulating him for the amazing game. He beamed happily, thanking them as he poked a straw to the apple juice he was holding and putting it on Y/N’s table but she didn’t even look at him and was just typing in front of her laptop.
“You’re being chummy with her.” Taeyong claimed while elbowing his side. “So what’s special about Y/N that she’s the only girl you talk to?”
Yuta had to laugh, voice resonating to the whole room. Instead of the professor, it was the TA who came for class. He just asked them to talk with their partners that made the class scrambled on their seats. Yuta sat beside Y/N who kept on typing in her laptop as if not caring about anything. “Y/N.” He called softly. “Are you alright?”
The girl almost screamed when Yuta held her shoulder. “Yuta?” She called then stared around. “I’m sorry. Is the class starting?” She immediately put down the screen of her laptop while biting her thumb.
“The prof isn’t here. The TA just wanted the pairs to talk about the idea.” She whispered an ‘oh, I see’ before putting out her laptop which opened a document. “You seemed busy.”
“Paper due today.” She answered while typing, bouncing her legs while she bit her lip.
The TA started walking around the room to see what the students are doing which made Y/N close the document, groaning when she failed to save it. The girl bumped her head to the desk that surprised Yuta. “You can type your paper and pretend to listen to me.” Yuta suggested that made her look at him. There were tears in her eyes. “Just pretend that I’m telling you the story.”
Y/N wiped her eyes then breathed hard before opening her laptop to start with her work. Yuta smiled when she started typing words on her laptop. “Someone is giving me letters.” But her typing didn’t stop and he wondered if she was even listening to him. “I don’t know why but that person gives me comfort all the time.” The TA approached their table and she started typing at a slow pace as he continued talking to her, “I always wait for that person’s letters every morning.”
When the TA passed, Y/N returned to her usual typing that made Yuta shrug and just watch as she focused on her work. Maybe she isn’t interested in hearing his story but it feels good that he got this chance to tell someone about the mystery sender always giving him smiles. He placed his head on the table, facing her. “I hope you meet your letter sender, superstar.” Y/N said without looking away from her laptop. And he wished he did too.
‘Ureshii.
I’m happy you’re always happy, Yuta.
I’m happy to hear your laugh echo in our room. I’m happy to see you smiling at everyone you pass by.
I’m happy you’re coming to class and enjoying soccer.
I’m really happy for you, Yuta.
XOXO,🍎’
A smirk appeared on his lips, so this person is in the same class as him? He usually passes by this person as well. He really wants to see this person once and thank him or her.
A thought passed his mind. What if the sender is a girl? Can he actually talk to her? Maybe not. This is probably better. That he’s curious about the mystery letter sender.
It was the midterm week. Everyone is super busy with the things they have to do, college life is so fast-paced that it scared Yuta. He’s used to getting left behind but what if he gets too left behind? He’s not super smart, not even studious. And a failing grade meant an automatic expulsion from the soccer team which he slowly grew to love. He should just be back from his usual rebel phase.
The thing he was scared of happened because of Math, specifically Trigonometry. He had to admit that he was blank the whole time, the result of not going to class during the first few months of school. What’s more annoying is seeing everyone’s score on the bulletin board and his fifteen points in Math.
“Take a tutorial class and retake the exam. It isn’t that hard.” The soccer coach said. “I don’t want to expel you in the team, golden boy.” But most of the tutors are all girls which scared him the most. Yet he didn’t want to fail.
As he skimmed the possible Math tutors to help him, his eyes fell on one specific girl that he knew who could help him. The only girl he could talk to.
‘Keep your head up.
It’s Math. It is naturally hard.
Don’t beat yourself up instead focus on what you did.
You solved an entire equation, fifteen of it and that’s admirable already.
Keep it up, Yuta! You’ve done a great job.
XOXO,🍎’
“This answer is wrong, superstar.” Y/N claimed, circling her pencil to the number two which Yuta got as an answer. The guy looked at it curiously, sighing hard while bumping his head on the table that earned looks from everyone inside the coffee shop. The girl had to giggle at him before closing her book, “We can rest if you want.”
Yuta followed her by closing the book then drank his apple juice that made her shake her head. “Y/N, do you remember the letter sender I told you about?” He asked before leaning his head on top of the books. The girl only nodded in answer. “Should I meet him?”
“Him? Your mystery sender is a guy?”
The guy shrugged. “But I want to think that the sender is a he so I won’t get too nervous.” But Y/N only gave him a confused look. “I’m not good with talking to girls. I mean, I’m really scared of holding a conversation with them especially after I broke up with my girlfriend.” Yuta breathed before continuing, “She gets jealous even if I just smile at another girl and maybe that was when the trauma started. When we broke up, I just can’t shake it off. I feel like it’s wrong for me to be talking to a girl.”
Y/N nodded. “Well, you just told that whole sentence to me. And I’m a girl.”
“Oh shit!” Yuta exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t be offended.” Y/N shook her head, smiling at him. “I think you’re really pretty and smart.”
“You think I’m friendly?” He gave her a confused look. Friendly? But he clearly said pretty. Yuta chuckled before nodding at her.
It was Y/N’s idea to give the mystery sender a response in a form of a letter, just Yuta saying that he’s thankful for the letters the sender gave him. He even shared how he liked Keisuke Honda better than Messi, how he thinks the apple juice from the vendo machine is the best drink there is in school, and how he started to think of the rain in a better light. He thanked the sender for encouraging him to study Math and the support he got from playing soccer. By the end of the letter, he told the sender that he will wait in a coffee shop to meet him or her so he can properly thank him or her.
"Y/N!" Yuta called while running in the hallway to where she was. He kept bumping on other students, apologizing quickly to them. "Y/N! He took the letter." She shrugged, looking at him confused. "Do you think he'll come to the coffee shop and meet me?"
"Did you tell her that?" He leaned beside your locker while she took out books for her consecutive classes.
Yuta nodded, taking her books for him to carry. "I'm nervous. What should I do?" Y/N was startled at the action. "What if the sender is a she? How can I even talk to her?"
The girl giggled. "Like how you're talking to me, Yuta."
He stopped walking and she was steps ahead when she noticed Yuta was gone. "Can you come with me later?"
Y/N sighed, shaking her head at him. “You can do this, superstar.”
--------
Yuta was so nervous that he kept on ordering water to ease his nerves. Every time the chimes of the door ring, he would stare at the door and hope that it was the letter sender. He lightly glanced at his wristwatch, it's been an hour. Will that person even come?
He's in his fifth cup of coffee, almost two hours have passed since the time he told the person in the letter. Yuta had already given up. Maybe she wouldn't come. He was about to stand up when Jungwoo came inside the coffee shop and sat in front of him. The younger guy handed him a folded piece of paper, "Someone wants to give you this."
"You know who it is?"
He nodded, "I saw her putting the letter in your locker once." Her? "But Yuta please know that she has her reasons why she doesn't want you to meet her."
"Can you just tell me who she is?" Jungwoo shook his head, apologizing before standing up to leave Yuta alone.
‘I received your letter and I’m so sorry for not coming to meet you.
I’m scared. I don’t know why but I am.
I don’t want to erase your smile when you find out that this is just me, I appreciate your letter, I really do.
And I’ll treasure it all my life. Thank you, Yuta. I’m sorry.
XOXO,🍎’
That's it? He won't get to know who she was. He cannot thank her for giving him something to look forward to every time. Is it possible to have your heart broken before it can even beat for a person?
Creative Literature class. Today is the last day of submitting the epistolary piece he and Y/N had been working on. He did the usual morning routine, go to the vendo and pick up a juice for him and her. But he can't seem to find the courage to push the button for the apple one so he settled to the orange-flavored juice. "Shit!" he cursed. He never knew Y/N's favorite juice flavor. He would always give her the apple flavored one. So with a heavy heart, he settled on the apple one.
Weird, he thought. It's almost time and Y/N isn't here yet. Taeyong entered the room and placed a folder in front of Yuta. "Y/N wanted to give you this." He was startled. There's always something fishy about Taeyong and Y/N so he asked him the question that's always bugging him. The other guy chuckled, "We're cousins, stupid." Taeyong supplied that made Yuta nod. He didn't know that.
"Where is she?" Yuta asked while opening the folder. There's a page full of computerized words, the story she wrote. "Is she sick?" Five pages of the story and on the last page, hers and his names are written in her handwriting.
"She didn't tell you?" Yuta shook his head in a questioning manner. "She's going to New York for the Exchange Student Program. It's her flight today."
Yuta skimmed the contents of the epistolary piece she made then focused on the handwriting. Why did it take him so long to realize everything? Taeyong called for his name but he was already outside the door of their classroom. He heard Jungwoo calling him but he was already out of the gates and hailed a cab. "Airport. Please step on it."
He took out the letters that he kept in his notebook, nine different letters to be exact. Yuta smiled seeing the hidden message in the letters. She cannot hide from him anymore. "Where are you?" Yuta asked when she answered the phone, his foot stepped inside the crowded airport.
"Airport?" He answered 'I know', "Gate four."
"Wait for me there." She called for his name but he was already running to where she was, putting the phone in his pocket. "Y/N!" he called which made the girl turn to where he is. He lightly bowed at her parents, asking if he can talk to Y/N for a while.
"It's you, isn't it? The letters." He asked which made the girl stop. "Why didn't you just tell me?" Then he shook his head. "After confessing, you're just going to leave me?"
The girl giggled at that. "It's just for two months, don't overreact." The guy breathed hard. "Did Jungwoo tell you?"
"I saw the pattern with the epistolary you did. Saw how you wrote my name and realized you never told me the juice you wanted and just went with the apple juice I always gave you." The girl smiled then he showed the nine letters he was holding. "Why the hell are you so smart that you have to put a secret message in your letters?" The girl giggled.
The announcement for the plane passengers heading to New York can be heard, "I have to board, Yuta. I'll see you when…"
But he pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. "I like you too, Y/N." A final call for the passengers can be heard and he hesitatingly let go of her. "I'll message you every day." Y/N nodded before saying goodbye to him and her parents, facing the boarding gate without even looking back.
----
Nakamoto Yuta. The perfect embodiment of the soccer superstar every university wanted to have. The model student who greets everyone, female or male, when he passes by them in the hallways. The loyal boyfriend who only has eyes for one girl.
He couldn't believe only a month had passed. He misses her so much even if the time they spent together is much longer than the time they're away from each other.
A normal day, a normal scenario for him. He quickly went to his locker to get his books for Physics class when a piece of paper fell, making his heart race.
'Did you miss me, my soccer superstar?
How many girls have fallen for that smile?
Or are you just smiling for me?
If you do, Room 3F.
XOXO, Y/N'
He slammed his locker shut then passed by the vendo machine to get an apple juice, even tapping his foot when it took a long time to go down. Yuta ran to the third floor, catching his breath when he's outside room 3F.
The moment he opened the door, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. "Hi, Yuta." She greeted that made him smile.
She's here. She's really here.
"Why didn’t you tell me you’re back?” But he just wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tight. “And I was complaining last night about missing you.”
Y/N giggled. “That’s why I went home early. I heard you’re famous with the ladies lately.” Yuta sighed, bopping her nose while teasing her for being so jealous. “Too bad we don’t have the same class together.”
The guy chuckled worriedly. “Well, you know I had to skip class that day and go to you to the airport.” Y/N nodded. “I didn’t submit our project so the professor gave us a zero.”
“What?”
Yuta laughed, shrugging. “On the bright side, we’re going to attend the same class in summer.”
And he knew, from her grin, his anti-love phase is over.
tagging : @jenosdaemi @notworthit24 @smrutiisiva-13 @justpeachygirl @notmejustmymind
I know someone is going to ask me about the secret message in the letters but I’ll let you discover it. 😁
#...dear you collab#yuta#yuta nakamoto#nakamoto yuta#yuta fluff#yuta nakamoto fluff#nakamoto yuta fluff
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jock!jaykay is your favourite boy! yes, this a childhood bestie!au. jaykay is gym rat who likes invading ocs personal space and likes bullying his bestie for being small and weak unlike him. or alternatively the one where jeongguk realises his bestie has giant boobs. listen to best friend by rex orange county. roughly 2k words. this is brain spew. boobie ogling.
You love Jeongguk.
It's a natural thing to say; a platonic affection for him that has steadily grown over the past decade of your intertwined lives. But, you never expected to develop this level of affiliation towards him. It happened by mistake. He’d stumbled into you at the playground in the middle of recess during one lonesome afternoon. Soft brown curls a halo on his round head and his doe eyes sparkling as he mumbled a compliment at the sandcastle you were knee-deep in constructing. You’d taken one glance at the boy, noted how your stature towered over him and then immediately enlisted his assistance in completing the mammoth of the sandcastle you were creating. He’d lit up — bright like the burning sun behind his tiny figure — jumping in with zero hesitation; small hands quick and sure as he stuffed sand into buckets. He never opposed any of your suggestions, considering them with a timid nod of his head and a tiny sheepish smile that revealed the delightful dips in his cheeks. It was beguiling, how quickly you grew attached to the smart but shy boy who’d wormed his way into your heart. Since then the two of you have been attached at the hip. Everyone knew you in relation to each other. Jeongguk wasn’t Jeongguk unless you were around and the same was for you. You’d spent sleepless nights at his house, huddling under the thick blankets of the fort you’d built in his living room, exchanging horror stories with the aid of a flashlight he’d nicked from his dad’s toolbox. Even his extended families adored you; random aunts and uncles sending cryptic messages via WhatsApp once every blue moon. And he knew yours too — you’re certain that your mother likes Jeongguk more than she likes you. There was even a designated toothbrush for him perched on your bathroom counter, for days Jeongguk was too lazy to go back to his own home. It was wonderful, having that reassurance in your relationship, a steady rock that you clung to amidst the harsh wild seas of life.
And then puberty hit.
Suddenly, Jeongguk was taller than you. His jaw was more defined, shoulders broadening seemingly overnight. Your sleepovers vanished, Jeongguk preferring to hole himself in his room alone. He wasn’t the only one who felt the effects of your ageing. You never thought Jeongguk had noticed it, the way your body had subtly changed throughout your teenage years, the rapid blossoming of your chest because he always treated you the same. The shit-eating grin and snarky comments that appeared at the beginning of freshman year never subduing. That was until one day, he did notice.
“You stink,” you say. And it’s true. He’s just come from lacrosse practice, your bedroom door kicked wide open and his gym bag dumped on your floor. His smelly socks leak from the opened zipper, wafting through the room with dangerous intent. The smile he shoots in your direction grips your heart, digging deep enough to send a thrill through your system. You swallow hard, gaze ripping from his rosebud lips. It settles on your laptop screen with tangible resignation, the sudden spike in your heart rate not completely lost on you.
“Nice to see you too, bestie,” Jeongguk returns, eagerly padding over to your bed. You hold out a leg to his intruding figure, halting him in his steps. From here you can see the sheen of sweat clinging to his golden skin, the muscles in his arm defined beneath the loose fabric of his practise shirt. There’s a strange heat forming in your gut, and you have to take in a small breath before you can let your gaze falter on his. His honey eyes are warm, the glittering in his gaze drawing you close. Even the damp mussed hair on his head has arranged itself into perfectly defined curls. They tumble into his face, crowning him in an innocence that tugs at your heart. There’s an itch in your fingertips. You wonder whether you're allowed to tuck them aside, away from obscuring his pretty eyes.
“Do not come on my bed smelling like the pits of a sewer, Jeon Jeongguk.” You say that instead, settling your mouth into a firm scowl. He whines in relation, swift hands yanking at the hem of his shirt.
“I showered at school! I don’t smell that much — you’re being over dramatic.” Your mattress dips under the weight of his knee but the foot that smacks into his chest prevents him from crawling any further into your space.
“And yet I can still smell you — not my fault you can’t. You reek, Jeon. Go take another shower before you even think of lying on my sheets.” Your laptop wavers precariously on your lap when Jeongguk clasps his large hands around your calves, gently shoving your foot off his chest. You hadn’t discerned how… Big his hands had gotten.
The corresponding flutter you feel in your tummy the moment that realisation strikes feels like imminent death.
“Fine, fine. I’ll go shower.” Jeongguk sighs like you’re the one causing him an inconvenience, shifting off your bed. Your mouth is already open, a retort tipping off your tongue. But then he’s hauling his sweat-drenched shirt over his head, the moment so swift and fluid you don’t even note how your heart halts in your chest. It starts a second later before abruptly falling into cardiac arrest because your gaze lands on his chiselled chest. You never truly registered how buff Jeongguk was. You knew he worked out, the insane regime he’d concocted the only thing he could talk about for months on end. Coach had him doing some insane sets at the gym and coupled with his weekly lacrosse practises it rapidly added up. You knew he was somewhat of a brawny guy. But Jeongguk preferred to wear his old baggy sweats around you and didn’t put much effort into his wardrobe for school. If it was black and clean it was going on. The look was effortless, simple and understated like Jeongguk was. So nothing could ever have prepared you for this. Hard lines of muscles forming his abdomen, flexing at the slightest movement as he tosses his shirt to the ground, a tiny ruffle of his curls accompanying the action. He’s glorious, warm skin glowing as if the sun is trapped within it. Perhaps you blink, blinded by the vision before you. An Adonis at the foot of your bed, shorts tugged low enough to reveal the band of his underwear. And, to make matters worse, the sharp-angled lines that direct your gaze right to his crotch.
You don’t think about it. You can’t. Another hard swallow hits your throat as you rise, arm outstretched to whack him hard across the head, the desire spurring in your guts short-circuiting your brain.
“Ow! What the hell was that for.” The pout he hits with you sends a wave of heat to your cheeks. You respond by landing a rough punch to his brawny shoulder.
“Why are you getting naked in my room?” Your voice sounds like an entity outside of your body, head still not comprehending the naked teenage boy in front of you.
“You told me to go shower!” Jeongguk retorts.
“Your house is a five-minute walk away! What made you think I meant in my house?” He catches the next punch you throw at him. There’s a thrill that surges fast when his large hands enclose around your wrists, grip taut. You tumble into his arms with a sharp tug, your chest colliding into his firm one.
“We used to share baths as kids. Why can’t I use your shower?” he murmurs. His voice is soft, wrapping around you promptly, like poison settling in your system. You abhor the tremor sweeps through you.
“Cause that was when we were kids! Look at you now! You’re all — all — all —,” your gaze falters downwards, hitting the rise of his pecs. It doesn’t take much for him to spot the heat that floods your face, a smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards.
“I’m all what?” Jeongguk implores. He flexes one of his pecs for good measure, a tiny laugh floating from his mouth when he spots how fast your eyes flicker from his chest.
“You’re a dickhead,” you retort, ripping your hands from his hold. Jeongguk lets you go, but when you glance up, there's a caution in his eyes that makes your skin prickle. “Go use your bathroom, you dingus. Come back when you don't smell like a garbage can.”
“But why,” Jeongguk whines. “Your bathroom is right there — like right there. It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”
“Get out of my house before I kick you in the balls, Guk.” For some reason, you poke at his chest, fingertip landing right between the dip of his defined pectoral muscles. His hand snatches yours before you can rip them away, head cocking to the side mischievously. You know you’ve fucked up the second that smile hits his lips, the grip on your hand a warning.
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Jeon Jeongguk, you stupid bastard, you’ll end up infertile if I hit you the way I want to right now.”
“Ooh, I’m so scared.” He tenses his biceps on purpose, feigning a shiver at your empty threat. The quiver in your knees is betraying. “Like I couldn’t body slam you into this bed right now.” It’s like the light clicks in his head the moment the words drift from his tongue. You didn’t even get a chance to protest, a scream lodged in your throat as his arms swiftly enclosing around you, plucking you right off the bed as if you were a feather. He keeps you suspended for a moment, paying no heed to the pounding of your fists on his broad back, his shoulder digging right into your stomach before he flings you right back into the mattress.
“JEONGGUK!” If your laptop is broken you’re going to kill him. It’s as simple as that. He doesn’t give you time for recovery though, brain still whirring when his broad chest smacks into you. “Ow! What is wrong with you? Get off! Get off!”
The bastard giggles, smothering you under the weight of his bulky body, the mattress pressing hard into your back. You prod and pinch and punch until he grows tired of it, snatching up your wild fists with a quick hand. They hit the pillow over your head with a muted thud, arms stretched out as he shuffles over you. The movement has the material of his shorts bunching up at his crotch. You swear you don’t look, gaze shifting to the taut muscles of his stomach. But that’s worse, your thighs clamping together as heat blooms between them. You’re forced to settle on his face, a tiny whine escaping your lip as he traps you beneath him. But then you realise Jeongguk is not staring at your face, his honey eyes locked on the sway of your chest every time you squirm beneath him. You hadn’t thought about the shirt you’d yanked over your head when you’d gotten home today, picking it solely for the sun scorching outside. The heat had leaked into the house, warm enough for you to forgo one of your usual loose sweatshirts. But it’s a low cut, the rounds of your chest on display for all to see. Even when you lurch up, attempting to knee him in the groin, your chest bounces and his eyes follow, rose lips parted in thought. He catches your erratic leg with ease though, pinning you to the sheets effortlessly.
There’s a lot going on in your head, too much to sift through at the moment. But there’s no denying the fast flutter in your cunt, heat rippling through your nerves as you sit in a silence that feels suffocating. When bites his lip, you ignite. It feels like too much, too quick. A crack in the ice barrier between the two of you, the dam of unresolved emotions behind it threatening to break past and down you.
“Jeongguk…” You try, wafting through this sudden tension. He hums, a low sound that echoes deep inside of you. “What are you doing?” It’s innocent enough to allow the situation to dissipate, give the both of you a moment to gather yourself, sweep this under the rug and move on like it never happened.
He cocks his head instead, contemplating with a quick sneak of his tongue along his petal lips, still staring at your chest. “Uh, realising something.” He pauses like he doesn’t want to ask but question floats out like he can’t help himself. “When did your boobs get so huge?”
#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagines#jungkook fluff#bts x reader#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenario#jungkook drabble#jungkook this whole thing: *cocks head*#au: jock!jaykay
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Number 1 | K. Bakugou |
idk what this is man, an origin story maybe?? idk bakugou is an asshole and reader is a badass
The ratings where in, this is it, the big moment. After years of hard work and dedication, you’re finally about to find out if you made it the number Number 1 Hero Spot. You walk out on the stage with the other Top 5 heroes, one being your long term boyfriend, Bakugou. You’d been dating since highschool and worked at the same agency that he created.
“And for our number 2 Hero, we have...Ground Zero! Number 1... Angel! Thank you heroes for protecting and sacrificing your lives for us!” The announcer practically yelled at the large crowd of people.
You couldn’t believe it. You did it. You were the number 1 hero in all of Japan and your boyfriend was right behind you. The lights of the stage felt like power surging through your body. Your large white wings fluttered in excitement. You took your place at the number one podium and felt warm tears of joy stream down your face, you feel pata on your back and can hear congratulations swirling around but you can barely stand up straight.
Soon someone hands you a microphone, the crowd quieting down.
“Thank you all so much, I will work hard every single day until my body gives up to make sure this great nation is protected. I’ve worked very hard to get here so thank you all for recognizing my hard work and determination. I wanna thank Ground Zero, for being the best partner and for helping me get where I am. It won’t be easy but I will take this number 1 spot and wear it with pride. Thank you, i love you all” You spill out happily, you turn and grab onto Katsuki, hugging him and congratulating him on Number 2. You’d both climbed so high and so quickly since you’re UA days, it’s made you happy that you’ve come so far with the person you love most.
Bakugou however, didn’t look happy. It was extremely rare to see a smile on his face, but at the very least you’d expected his bored face. But now, he looked angry. He looked like he was ready to level the city withy he scowl pressed on his face.
“babe, what’s wrong? you good?” You grab his large bicep, getting him to look at you. His bright red eyes snap to yours and you feel locked in with how much animosity they hold.
“I’m ready to go home” He spits out before turning and walking back to the car you’d both arrived in.
You took a few more pictures with fans before following your grumpy boyfriend. As soon as you sat in the car, you could feel the tension thick in the air.
“Ok seriously babe, what the hell is wrong? We got the top spots, that’s amazing!” You turn towards him as the driver head back to your place.
“It’s nothing” He managed to say through his teeth with his are locked together with how tight he’s clenching his jaw.
“It’s something, you’re getting ready to blow this car up”
“I said it’s nothing, Angel” He speaks, the name oozing in malice and anger. Suddenly it clicked.
“You’re jealous that I got the number one spot while you got number two. jesus christ katsuki, could you be any more pessimistic. Why can’t you just be happy for me that i’ve reached a goal i’ve been trying to get my whole life? Number two is in no way shape or form bad.” You huff and fall back against the seat, you watch Bakugou clench and unclench his fists while staring out the window.
“I have to be number one and be better than All Might” He growls quietly, you knew it was a somewhat sensitive subject, but you couldn’t believe your ears.
“All might? Katsuki, you’re 23 years old, you can’t truly expect to be better than All Might right now? All might wasn’t even this good at this age yet, you’re way ahead of schedule. You can’t be happy for me because you wanna be better at 22 years old than All Might was in his prime? You’re delusional katsuki.”
“I HAVE TO BE NUMBER ONE”
“THATS FINE BUT WHY CANT YOU BE HAPPY THAT TOUR GIRLFRIEND IS NUMBER ONE?”
“BECAUSE IT SHOULD BE ME”
“so you think I don’t deserve this katsuki? You think what? I haven’t worked hard enough? I’m nor strong enough? I’m not good enough? WHAT IS IT KATSUKI? Why don’t I deserve to be number one? Why do you think your were unfairly judged?”
You both stared at each other in silence for a while, anger boiling into the atmosphere. You understood the only thing that drove bakugou in highschool was his need to be number one. You were both adults now, and you were in love with each other. You’d hoped that you’d made a big enough impact on bakugou that your life and love together would be enough of a motivator to be great, the way it was with you.
You felt that car pull into your large home, and immediately jumped out, racing up to your shared bedroom. You got out of your hero costume and into leggings and a tank top. You took off all your makeup and picked the confetti out of your wings. You looked up as Bakugou walked in the room.
“Im not sorry that I’m not settling for number two, I never will and you know it, but i am sorry for yelling at you and the way I acted.” Katsuki grumbled while looking at the floor. Usually, his awkward and hesitant apologies warmed your heart and made you gush at how cute your angry boyfriend was, but now you find yourself staying angry.
“That’s not an apology katsuki. You refuse to be happy for me, even though you promised you would be. You refuse to even acknowledge how much work I put into this to be number one. I am THE youngest Hero to hit number one and you can’t even say good job babe. Instead you get angry and jealous and mean because it wasn’t you. Never mind the fact that you jumped from 10 to 2 which is THE biggest jump anyone’s seen in years bakugou. You won’t even let yourself be happy at what you’ve done, because you’re too busy being jealous” You poke his chest, finally standing in front of him.
“It’s not a bad thing to want to be the best” He crosses his arms, getting defensive.
“Of course not babe, I want you to be the best too. So why don’t you want me to be the best?”
“It’s not that, it’s-“
“It’s what Katsuki?”
“I made a promise to myself-”
“YOU MADE A PROMISE TO ME KATSUKI. You gave me this fucking promise ring and told me that you you’re gonna support me no matter what. That we were gonna work hard to get to where we need to go and we were gonna do it together. You promised me you’d be by my side. That’s the difference between us babe. You need to be number one for yourself, I need to be number one for us. You’ve forgotten that” You wipe your tears and move around the tall man in your way. It hurt that Katsuki couldn’t see this was bigger than his highschool days. This was your life together. You hadn’t spoken to All Might or even Midoriya in years, so why was it so hard for him to accept you as a permanent part of his life.
“Baby, i’m sorry I just. I get one track minded and I was so hopeful that this was finally the day. I needed so bad to be number one-“
“THIS IS NO LONGER ABOUT BEING NUMBER ONE KATSUKI, THIS IS ABOUT HOW YOU CANT SEE THAT YOURE TREATING ME LIKE A SIDE CHARACTER. I AM YOUR GIRLFRIEND!! For fucks sake katsuki, we live, work, sleep, eat do and do everything together, so the fact that I’m not even one of the reasons you go out and do what you do hurts because this” You pause and gestured to everything around you. “This is the reason I wake up every morning, you are the reason I fight crime and your reason is, a childhood rivalry. You’re am adult now, you’re supposed to be friends with midoriya and all might and you’re supposed to be over this whole thing. This isn’t supposed to be the thing that drives you. I’m not saying I have to be too of the list but it would be nice to be on the list” You sigh and look at your boyfriend. You knew this wasn’t healthy to yell at each other like this, but you needed him to understand where you’re coming from.
“Baby, Of course you’re my reason for waking up and being a hero, I would do anything to protect you, it’s just I always pictured me at Number 1 with my agency and you and a family. I have a need, a primal urge to be number one and that’s never going to change. Doesn’t mean i don’t love your dumbass”
“Well I’m number one Katsuki, and I earned the hell out of it. I worked my ass off day and night for weeks and months and years so that I could have this. And to see you pout and complain and look me in my face and tell me you don’t think I deserve this spot hurts more than some cute little apology where you call me dumbass lovingly. So i’ll ask you again, why don’t you think I deserve this spot? What makes you better?” You squinted your eyes at the tall man and clench your jaw.
“Im physically stronger-“ You interrupt your boyfriend by grabbing his arm and kicking his legs out from under him, using your wings to flip him over in his back, pinning him down.
“You’re so close minded katsuki, that you don’t even know what i’ve. been doing for the past 8 months. I an the number one hero you think i didn’t train to be stronger than everyone around me?” You ask, hurt laced in your voice.
“Fine, you deserve this spot. You’re the best.”
“You dont meant that, I’m gonna make you fucking mean it Katsuki. One day you’re gonna see me and i’m gonna be the best and you’re gonna be in awe of my power and then you’ll finally see that i deserve this.” You push off of him and stand up your wings tucking close to your body.
“Just-give me a week babe. I promise I’ll make it up to you and I’ll show you I am happy for you, it’s just difficult being let down like this. I’m a sore loser and you know it.” Bakugou grabs your shoulder and pulls you close to his chest.
“You haven’t even said you’re proud of me yet. or that you love me. or even good job katsuki. You don’t believe i’m your heart that i deserve this do you?” You look at him, heart in your throat.
“I believe I should be number one. Every time.” Katsuki mutters in your hair like it was a compliment. You push him back, rage filling your body.
“You’re fucked up katsuki. I’m fucking leaving” You spit, throwing on a jacket and shoes, heading towards your front door.
“Where the hell are you going?!” Bakugou snarls as you move past him.
“Katsuki, I love you with every fiber of my soul, but right now looking at your face makes me wanna throw you across town and beat the shit out of you. I’ll be back tomorrow maybe” You mumble the last part, not really sure how long you wanna be away from your hot headed boyfriend.
“you can’t just fucking leave y/n, how do you expect to be number one of you can’t even stay and win a fight against your boyfriend.” Katsuki let’s out a dry laugh, causing you to turn away from your front door.
You lunge at Katsuki, ready to punch him until he understands you’re the number one hero. You two roll around fighting and spewing things typically reserved for villains. Bakugou pins you down on the floor, his knee on your chest and his hands holding both your wrists beside your head. You close your eyes and focus all your energy into your chest, a faint ball of white light glows from your heart. Ktsuki looks at it with realization before the energy is expelled from you and your boyfriend is sent flying across the living room.
“You did not just use Power Surge on me.” He growls. wiping the sweat from his brow.
“I did, and i’m fucking leaving and your not gonna say shit or so help me god katsuki, i will shoot a beam of light so bright and hot that you wake up blind, burnt and fucking single.” You use your wings to send you flying straight to your front door, you look back at your confused boyfriend once more before taking to the sky.
Bakugou began the cleaning process, shocked and confused. Why didn’t you understand he wants to be happy for you, he truly does, but his pride won’t let him get away with not winning. He decided to let you fly off to calm down for the night, opting to call and talk to Kirishima. The two friends ended up talking for a bit longer than expected, bakugou trying to get kiri on his side, not his girlfriends. It didn’t work however, Kirishima understood that bakugou would let his emotions cloud his mind, even when it came to you. By the end of the conversation, bakugou was almost has heated as he was while fighting you. He concluded the best option was to head to his agency and train for the night.
He arrived and decided to do some things around the office before heading to the training and workout wing of his large building. While going thru last minute files, there’s a knock on his door.
“Ground Zero, i wasn’t expecting you to be here so late.” A stranger smiles in Bakugou face as he opens his office door, his secretary smiling sheepishly.
“Who the hell are you?” He cocks his head and tries to figure it out before he’s told, one of those weird habits he’s picked up being a hero.
“My apologies. I’m Niko Takeyama, I work for the Hero Commission. How would you like to be the number one hero by this time next month.”
#bnha imagines#bnha x reader#mha fanfiction#bakugou smut#bakugou imagine#katsuki bakugo imagine#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader
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I AM THAT GIRL
angst, slight fluff, smut
WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, MENTAL ILLNESS, SUICIDE, SELFHARM, DRAMA, SMUT, VANILA SMUT, SWEARING, KIM JENNIE IS A BITCH HERE AND SO OTHER MENTION REAL LIFE PEOPLE BUT ITS PURELY FICTIONAL.
synopsis:Johnny Suh, the most popular boy in college, tried to take his life? what could possibly go wrong with his wealthy background, popularity, and basically having everything in the palm of his hands?
expected word count: 12,692
release date: 01/18/21 (somehow, got deleted. so Im reposting)
details: college!au, strangers to friends to lovers!au.
JohnnySuh x reader.
Johnny Suh walked the hallways in his college ground and not one passerby gives him the freedom to do his business. Students give him a look of pity, as acquaintances try to give him fake words of comfort that disgustingly crawls at the back of his skin.
They were just into the gossip, but they never really care. It was obvious from how they whisper behind his back for looking out of place and out of character, he could see their mocking gazes every time he walks past them.
he pulled his hood up and covered his old blonde hair now dyed into jet black, the usual smile plastered on his lips was now in a tight line and was placed the usually friendly demeanor with a scowl on his face.
people are staring, not in a good way, but because he looks ridiculous in their minds.
"Youngho, if you need anything, I'd gladly do it for you." Johnny heard his Korean name roll of someone's lips and now he feels disgusted with himself for the 9th time that day, he was back to zero and the acid rushes past his throat and he might vomit with the anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach upon hearing his birth name. He halts his movements and turns around to face Kim Jennie.
How does she have the nerve to say that when she cheated on him with Jongin? He treated him like a brother. Her hands travel on his biceps, the usual warmth he felt in the past now buried at the back of his memories, and now, he's just disgusted with her. He ignored her and continued walking past her, Jennie's peers were instantly beside her to console her with words of comfort because her ex-lover practically brushes her off like she was nothing.
You didn't expect a drama unfolding in front of you while standing in your locker area, Christmas break was finally over, and now students are back putting their noses in other people's business. Especially, Johnny Suh's business.
You shrugged your shoulders and walks back to your class, this is definitely a way to start your first day at this University.
Johnny sat at the far back of the room, sporting unusual dark clothing rather than the usual light colors of his wardrobe, the professor walks in, shaking his head upon seeing him at the back completely not understanding how Johnny's mind works.
Johnny knows, just by the look his professor is giving at him, he knew and have seen that twice already — he couldn't control the urge to stand up harshly making the chair he was using falls down to the ground as he walks to the door not bothering to look back, stunning everybody in the room.
When Johnny came back to school after his attempt, he felt more pulled down in the darkest pit inside him, he was unhappy more than he did when he was attempting. The funny part? when people knew about his attempt, people started flocking around him as they cared, but it was obvious. They just wanted to be with him because of his surname and money.
Even Jennie did not differ from the other students trying to impress him. The sad part about it is that he genuinely liked her, but she was just up for it because of the money and fame, and maybe the good fuck. His friends were no different, people might think that he's happy being the captain of the football team, but his life was toxic with every moment. He was in more pain than ever, his friends who were his teammates low-key discarded him thinking he's a freak saying he needed to seek attention.
Johnny knew that they weren't practically saying that to his face, but they were showing it.
They weren't wrong, he knew that, but it was different. They were all trying to impress him, worshiping the ground he walks on and now he's on the rocky side of the road, they drop him? because their parents told them to?
Johnny empties his locker, blindly shoving everything in his duffle bag when his best friend, Kim Jongin, walks inside. He hardly shoved everything inside his bag and harshly closed his locker's door, scowling at the older boy.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he heard him. "This isn't you at all, why are you suddenly changing? Johnny, I already said I'm sorry." that's the ugly fact. People around him are blind enough not to notice the slight changes in him and the little signs that he wasn't mentally stable.
"This isn't an apology. You're asking me to suck it up. It's Different."
Lunch came and Johnny has nowhere to go, not with all the pity looks the student body is giving him, he had a take-out for his meal and had his lunch alone in an empty room. deciding he has no appetite to eat something, he walked out of the building and drove out to Nakamoto Yuta's basement. He's supposed to be dead two weeks before this day, but here he was, seeking for Yuta's dirty business.
"Johnny Suh." Nakamoto Yuta was known for his dirty business around campus, selling overpriced illegal transactions under the table, tattoos, and piercing. "Stop talking like I'm some god. No god would try to kill himself."
"figures."
"I don't understand, how are you still in the university and not behind bars?" Johnny asks after taking a long drag on his blunt.
"This is the only way to have food on the table, and I need to graduate. I rather do these than sell my body."
Sadly enough when Johnny checked his phone, no calls or messages from his parents. As cliche as it sounds, he wants his father to check on him but after seeing him in his room bathed in his blood on the ground, his father drifted more away from him.
When he got home that night, his family was having dinner without him, his younger sister, Yerim, ran up to him and hugged him. "Oppa, where have you been? I've been calling you." his sister was the only purest being for him, and he distances himself around her, he doesn't want him to expose her to things that only he knew.
"Yerim, go to your room." the impersonal voice of their father surrounds the dining area and Yerim flinch. looking up to his eyes before walking away.
Kim Ji hoon walks up to him and looks at him with disdain. "Stop being a disgrace, If you can't act like your invisible. I don't need a disgrace in this house." It wasn't new to Johnny anymore.
His father may not be vocal about it in the past but he knew that his father doesn't want him to breathe the same air he does, if God may allow it, he knows that his father wanted him dead, he wanted his father to acknowledged him, and he did everything, that was when Johnny was kissing up to his reputation of being the good son, ace-ing all his grades, being the captain of the football team, doing unnecessary extracurricular activities for extra points, being the good boyfriend, good friend, good son, and a good brother, but it was all too much for him, he felt that he was borrowing someone's life to the point that he doesn't recognize him anymore.
His father hated him so much that he didn't even give him his last name, and the ugly part about it is that Johnny understood his father because he was the reason his mother died. "You can't even do one thing properly, and now everyone living in this town knows about you killing yourself."
"Are you saying that I didn't properly kill myself?" he wanted to vomit. He chuckled as he ran his hands down his locks. "Go fuck yourself," he murmured and walk down to the guest room where he was temporarily sleeping, his step-mother hasn't asked the helpers to clean his room's carpet that is still bathed in his blood, he looked at his wrist that is covered in a bandage, the ugly reminder that he was unhappy and that there is no saving from this anymore. Finding the reason to wake up was hard enough and going to school was another thing, but he did anyway.
People still gossip behind his back, ugly as it sounds, people are disgustingly twisted. He smirked upon hearing he still looked hot as fuck with black hair, one student saying she would gladly do him, blonde or black.
"Jennie must have cheated knowing that he's a freak."
"hey, he might hear you, lower your voice."
"He needs to seek professional help."
"I don't understand him at all. His popular, his ex-girlfriend was fucking hot, he's rich, has great looks, and has a hella hot of a sister." something snapped inside him when he heard some asshole talked disgustingly about his sister.
Before he could even think properly, Johnny repulsively pushed the guy up to the wall. "The hell!" the stranger shouted as the other students stop to stare.
"Did you fucking talked about my sister like that?"
People are staring not because of an aggressive man pushing a full-grown body against the wall like it's nothing. it's not uncommon to see a fistfight for the entire student body to see, people are staring because, Johnny Suh, for once stunned everybody with his demeanor that is completely out of his character. Yes, he is a big guy, but he was kind, sweet, and friendly, so Johnny using force for the first time against someone was a sight to see, added to the fact that this is the first time people heard him cursing, and If eyes could kill already, the guy who talked shit about his sister is practically dead right now, he would brush it off in the past, blindly ignoring gossip about him but this is the first time that someone disrespects his sister right in front of his face and definitely, it is the first time that he gave less fuck about his reputation.
Johnny stared at the man that lacks the urge to answer him, him sending shivers down the stranger's spine. He manhandled the guy and throw him down the floor. "You had the nerve to run that filthy mouth against my sister but doesn't have the balls to answer when I'm confronting you?" he smirked and walked away.
Johnny spent the whole week going to the university but doesn't bother attending his classes, he doesn't want to be left alone at home but doesn't want to go to his classes. He just lost every motivation to do something productive.
Johnny walked his usual path these past few days, going to an empty room on the 4th floor of the Marketing's building to kill time, he gently pushed open the door and saw you changing your clothes. You were almost done, putting your white dress shirt over your shoulder without noticing that you're giving a stranger a free show.
Johnny freezes up, staring and lingering more than usual. He was mesmerized by how your skin glistens under the light slipping through the windows, but what made him stop on his track is the lack of hair you have in your body. It's just smooth skin all over your body.
When you felt someone behind you, you turn your body around to look at the intruder, you saw someone and instantly locked eyes with him. At first, you were scared of seeing Suh Johnny behind you, Johnny got a full view of your unbuttoned shirt and your chest clad in your undergarments. it's not like you saw a ghost, he didn't die per se, but then it has drawn to you, that Johnny, in the flesh, saw you changing clothes. Your reflex acts up and you turn yourself away from him, pulling your clothes to hug yourself, you fix your buttons as you run out to get out of the embarrassment.
The next day, you went to your usual spot in the library to eat your lunch when you saw somebody sitting on your chair. You shrug your shoulders and sit across the stranger who had his head tucked in his arms on the table. You were excited to eat your favorite sandwich because your mother specially made it for you, it was a rare moment given your mother raised you and your sibling alone, having to work two jobs at a time just to put food on the table and to send you to a good school. You appreciate her and love her with all your heart, she was the only one you had next to your older brother, you were good at being invisible, it was your last semester at the university. Trying to finish one subject and your practicum silently like you didn't exist at all. You laughed at the fact that you had no one in this damn hell, but you didn't care.
You started eating your sandwich in silence while opening a good book to read, you were happy in your bubble. Johnny must have heard you as you flip pages after pages. His stomach growling after registering the wonderful smell coming from his surroundings. When he lifts his head, his eyes flicked to your form, silently eating while reading a book, you were so happy in your little bubble, giggling while reading. He straightens his back and you notice the guy across you, putting a face in the stranger who sleeps across you.
A blush crept up on your face when you realize it was Johnny again, you remembered the recent events that happened between the both of you, and your embarrassed ass started coughing hard, you hold your neck rather than reaching for the bottled water in front of you as you choke none stop in front of him. He was left dumbfounded for a couple of seconds but reach for the bottle and unclasp it before handing it to you, you chugged half the contents down your throat and he watched you with fascination.
"Thank you." You said in a small voice.
You put the bottle back in its place as silence hangs in the air, it wasn't a bad kind of silence, but it was awkward. You offer him the other half of your sandwich as you watch him look at you questioningly. "Your hungry." It wasn't a question. You knew he was hungry given you kept hearing his stomach growling a while ago. "You know a little food won't hurt you right?"
Johnny laughs at your ironic statement but accepts your offer anyway, "Don't get your hopes up, I'm not up for a casual relationship." he says as you thought that he wouldn't accept your offer, given that he's rich and can buy a much better lunch than what you're currently having, but then again, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
"I was just offering you food."
"Thanks." When he finished your sandwich rather quickly, he went back to sleeping in front of you. He liked hearing the sound of you flipping pages after pages as you read your book silently in front of him and the occasional giggle you let out when read something funny. When he woke up to go home, you were gone, but you left your coat as you hung it around his shoulders to keep him warm.
When he came back the day after, in the library, you didn't come back.
The next morning, Johnny awoke earlier than usual, heading to his car without giving a glance at his family, Yerim saw him and was rather puzzled at the baby pink coat he was holding delicately in his arms. He drove fast to get to the university, walking inside the library to wait for you if ever you were going to be there again.
Lunch came, and your guess was right, you see the same blacked haired boy taking a nap in your usual spot with your coat right beside him. You sat across him again and started minding your business, but this time, you had another bag of sandwiches repaired for him. You weren't ignorant about Johnny's attempt, but you choose to respect his space, you knew that he wasn't mentally stable yet. He might look fine outside and you might not know what goes inside his head, but you knew that he isn't fine. No one's mentally stable, everybody has their hardships in their private lives going on right now, but the important thing is that people shouldn't use it against someone, and as long as they don't step on other people to feel better for themselves then it's good.
You might not understand what he's going through right now, you weren't friends, to begin with, but you feel for him. Sincerely.
Johnny felt peaceful for once after many years, it was an odd feeling, but it wasn't bad. You were browsing your phone, checking your emails and your mother's, clearing and archiving unimportant ones. You look at the time and it was already half past lunchtime. Wednesday is a pain in the ass for you, you have to wait for 5 hours until your next class in the afternoon. You didn't notice Johnny waking from his nap, seeing as you still haven't touched the sandwich bags in front of you, he's guessing you still haven't eaten.
"I'm Johnny."
You look at the man in front of you, his usual strawberry locks are now turned into black, sporting a gray hoodie over his black shirt and matching gray track pants. You study his expression, his not extending his hands for a handshake nor his face valid of any emotion, yet you smile and said "What happened to not being in a casual relationship?"
Johnny was taken back, you give him the sweetest smile you could offer and handed him the extra sandwich you had, "You know, some people would reply with their names." he said as he accepts the food that you offered, you look at him as if contemplating before speaking.
"Y/n"
"I'm not sure, but what department are you from?" he asked after taking a bite of his food. "This is good, by the way. Who made this?"
"What question do you want me to answer first?" you asked laughing. "My mom made it, and I'm from the same department as you, Though, I just transferred to this school after the Holidays,
If he was shocked he didn't show it, Johnny nods his head as if acknowledging you, "I just want time to pass by quickly and silently, that's why no one knows I exist here. I'm just trying to live another day until I graduate." You said making Johnny fall silent.
"Good for you," he replied after a good minute with the both of you munching on your foods. "Was it hard?" he asked.
"What is?"
"You don't seem to have anyone, do you even have friends?" you laughed at his statement because it was the truth. "Yeah, something like that. It wasn't that bad I might have no friends because I choose not to have any relationships with anybody in here."
"That sucks, I'm not going to ask the reason why you transferred in the middle of the semester because that's your business, not mine," he says, you study his face and you weren't sure whether to run your mouth over his business or not, deciding against it you stood up and take your things with you. "Let me show you something."
Walking down the stairs while both of you kept a little distance, you lead him to the visual room, pulling the keys in your backpack and unlocking it. "Why do you have a key to the AVR?" he asks bewildered.
"Perks of being the teacher's pet," you replied as you pulled him inside, turning the computer and projector on, you played a video about constellations and aimed the projector above.
Stars hover above the two of you and you urge him to lay down beside you, looking up and taking a moment of peace to embrace both of you.
"When things get hard and I tend to be alone; let's be honest, no one wants to feel lonely, especially at the hardest times of our lives. But then, you can't force someone to be there with you physically and emotionally and it sucks to have yourself suck it up for being alone. So, I do this, I take my time staring at these constellations. You see, they're really beautiful to me. I find them fascinating, they have this beautiful meaning behind them, it was always fun finding their patterns, connecting them until they're complete, you just have to look closely, in that way, you'll appreciate them more." you smile while pointing above you, he might not look at you but your presence beside him does him wonders, it was so powerful that even if he closes his eyes, he still feels you beside him. The warmth he was feeling coming from you, your steady breathing, and your sweet scent.
You spent your Mondays and Wednesdays with Johnny, eating lunch together, or spending time as you watch different constellations every week.
Friday morning, you made a quick detour to your department before clocking in for your practicum, before leaving the premises a professor asked you for a favor and you agreed to make a copy of the files she was asking for. When you came back from the printing room, you saw a commotion ahead. It wasn't you to pry on other people's business, but your legs must have their mind when you saw a familiar tall build that is clad in a black hoodie.
Johnny Suh stands in the middle with Kim Jongin and Kim Jennie on the other side. He was hyperventilating.
"Just leave, please." Kim Jongin shouted at him, you can see the obvious horror written on everyone's faces. Kim Jennie was stuck beside Jongin as she shed tears silently, disbelief written in Johnny's face.
"Do you know what went wrong? it's because you were never enough." Jennie drops the bomb for everyone to hear, Johnny was livid. If he could crush everything that he could see he would take the chance and do it. If he could take his life again, he wouldn't give a single fuck and he'll gladly do it.
"I can't believe you both. I wasn't the one who cheated with my best friend, why the fuck do you act like it's my fault?" you heard Johnny said and for the first time your heart broke for him.
You found him in your usual spot in the library, his head hanging low and his body shaking as he tries to catch his breath. You drop your coat over his head and give him the bottle of water you were holding, instead of sitting across him, you sat next to him without overstepping and respecting his space to cool down.
When he started to calm down, he handed your coat back to you, stood up, and left the library. Saying you were dumbfounded was an understatement but you choose to understand him.
Days passed by and Johnny was still a no show. When a week has already passed without seeing Johnny, you started to get worried. You wished you asked for his number, but then again, you weren't even that close, to begin with. You decide to spend your long-vacant in the visual room, playing random constellations as you think about a certain boy.
When that certain boy suddenly appeared right in front of you. "I'm sorry." He had his hands inside his grey sweatpants.
"What matters is that you came."
Johnny joined you on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, after a moment of silence, he spoke up. "Why did you help me? why do you even care about me at all? I'm a mess."
"Aren't we friends?" You asked even though it was clear that he turned your offer of friendship down a while ago.
"What you said about the constellations earlier made me realize how I took myself for granted and at the same time how ungrateful I am."
You look at him and give him the chance to speak up. "I didn't have the will to live, do you know that you are annoyingly optimistic about everything?" He jokingly asked, and you laughed with him.
"Is that a compliment or what?"
"I still don't have a reason to be here." He suddenly says. Johnny looks at your face as if reading you, he was prepared to see you pitying him but there was none.
"You don't have to look for it. You have yourself because, at the end of the day, you only got your own back," you turn to him as you give him a look. Johnny envied you, it was obvious, and you can read him like an open book. "Don't, don't look at me like that, Johnny Suh." the way his name rolled down your tongue felt flawless, as if you were born to say his name out loud.
"We all have our shortcomings, I'm not perfect nor are people around me, no one is, and we have to accept that fact, give less care about people who can't accept that."
"It's not as easy as it seems," Johnny says, your hand brushing back the stray hair that falls on his forehead as if your hand has a mind of its own. "Sorry-"
"It's fine. I like it." Both of you turn towards the ceiling as you continue to watch the stars, keeping the comfortable silence and just hang around each other.
For weeks, spending time in the library and the visual room to watch the stars has been your thing with Johnny Suh, you couldn't even imagine being friends with the likes of him, you view him as a constellation star, he's mysterious behind his disguise as he tends to fool everyone with, he was hard to reach and was always up above you, he brightens the surroundings like how the stars brighten the night sky, for you, he was more than the famous campus boy that everybody likes, even if he can't realize that.
Weeks passed by and you look forward to your Mondays and Wednesdays than the fact that you are graduating.
You were busy transferring your books to your backpack as you stand in front of your locker when Johnny came to you. "I didn't know we have the same classes."
You were stunned when you saw him talking to you in the open, students started looking in your way as if seeing a history. The most known guy in the University is with a nobody, but you shrugged it anyway as you closed your locker's door. You bite back at your tongue with all the attention you were getting, anxiety creeping out to you but you choose to ignore it.
"You weren't even attending your classes," you told him as you fix your backpack, the both of you started walking, keeping the same slow pace and taking your time.
"Well, I now have a reason, at least," he says as he grabs the strap of your bag and slings it in his shoulder. You ignore the bubbly feeling inside you and continued walking. Smiling at yourself as you forget about the stares around you.
"You're so cheesy, Suh Johnny." You giggled at him and for the first time, you saw a genuine smile creeping on his face.
When Lunch came, both of you sat outside to enjoy the sunny weather. "I'm going to start my Practicum next week," Johnny told you suddenly, and you stood up so fast to walk around the table to hug him.
"I'm so glad!" the sincere happiness is written on your face that even Johnny laughs with you.
"Thanks to you, I feel like, there's more to it than ending my life at the age of 21," he says and you shake your head at him.
"No, I didn't do anything. It's mostly you. I'm just here beside you to guide you, but it's your own will."
"I'll be honest with you, hurting myself still runs on my head but the difference this time is, I'm scared to do it." you didn't know what to reply to that so you just extend your hands towards his and hold it firmly in your grasp.
The rest of your day went ahead without you noticing, time flies by rather quickly when you are with Johnny. You stood waiting for your bus to arrive when a black Audi stops in front of you. Its windows rolling down and you see Johnny peeking through the window to smile at you.
"You want to wait for your bus or be logical and save time?" you laugh at his way of asking you for a ride but walk towards the passenger to join him in his car otherwise. The car ride was rather chaotic, you were debating about what to put first, milk or cereal, and you felt the horrors when Johnny says he puts milk in first. He was laughing like a child at how horrified you look.
"Anything's fine with me. I put whatever in first," he says after a long minute of arguing.
"I'm telling you, not to live like that!" you argue back. "Cereal comes first and then milk goes in, just imagine, do you pour the soap first before the water? it's water before the soap!" you explained and he laughs at how rilled up you get.
The argument was cut off when you arrived at your house. Johnny parked his car in front of your house and for some reason, your mother came in wearing an apron over her clothes. She raises an eyebrow at the unknown car blocking her driveway and you look at Johnny who looks back at you.
"Your mother is intimidating." He says.
"Want to come over for dinner?" you ask, and It took him a second before responding, " You think that's a good idea?"
"Come on, Mr. Suh, grow some balls, it's just my mom." Johnny looks offended at your statement.
"I have balls that girls flock around with," he retorted. You sigh and open the passenger seat greeting your mom with a smile as you ran to hug her.
"Can my friend stay for dinner?" you asked after hugging her. Johnny is behind you as he introduced himself as your friend and your mother shocked him by giving him a warm hug.
"There's still room for another boy in my house, I believe, it's no problem." Your mother stated as Johnny gives you a confused glance. Your mother invited him in and you welcomed him.
Inside, your older brother, Taeil is strumming his guitar with three other guys in the living room. "Oh, This is my Brother, Taeil." you casually said at him as you hung both of your jackets.
"You didn't tell me you have a brother." He whispered at you, standing awkwardly beside you. Taeil waved at him and you push him to sit beside Jaehyun.
"This is Jaehyun, Doyoung, and Ten. They're all bandmates during high school so they're always here for my brother," you explained. "And your mother's cooking." Ten added.
"Well, now you know," You said as you turn to him. "Let me just go to my room and freshen up real quick, just make yourself feel at home," you say as you back up on your track. "Cool."
Johnny didn't feel out of place for some reason, he was really happy that he got to meet your brother and his bandmates, they were cool to be around. They entertained him and ask what were his hobbies are and for the first time, he took his time to think about what he likes to do. He likes to draw.
When dinner was served, all the boys helped your mother to set up the table, Johnny was persistent in helping even after telling him to sit and wait because he was a guest. You let him help otherwise.
Dinner was well spent, he enjoyed talking with everyone and your mother even asks him to visit anytime he wants. Taeil takes a liking to him, asking him to hang out whenever he's free. Johnny presented to do the dishes and you helped him when he was done his shirt was a total mess because of the water splashing through the faucet, a good thing is that your brother has some clothes that are way oversized for him, and he lets Johnny use them.
You handed him the shirt, accidentally seeing a huge bruise on his chest and stomach, before you knew it, you stop him as he was about to put his shirt on. "What happened?"
His bruises must have slipped his mind and he mentally cursed himself at it. You were horrified. "Johnny, are you getting beat up?"
"I don't want to talk about this," he pulled his shirt down "Y/n, It's getting late. I should head home now. Thank you for dinner, I enjoyed it." and before you know it, Suh Johnny was gone.
Weeks passed by and Johnny was a complete no show. Faint rays of the sun trickled down through your curtains and fell on your room's marbled floor, you look up at your window and were blinded by the light, sitting up, you let your feet hovered on your marbled floors and mentally prepare yourself for the day.
In the office, your instructor asked you to copy some files and you gladly agreed to do it as you don't have much going on for the time being. You thought that it was hard doing your practicum, but all you did at the office was run errands evolving the x-ray machine. Your mind drifted back to Johnny, you'll have to talk to him. Being worried about him is already killing you and the last time you saw him was three weeks ago.
Wednesday came and you sat at your usual spot in the library, studying for the upcoming exams as you patiently wait for the tall black-haired guy. You forced yourself to do some actual studying but for some reason, all you can think about was Suh Johnny who didn't even show up.
The week passed by in a blur and on Thursday you went to your University to take the exam, you were scheduled for the second batch, and instead of your usual schedule of Wednesday, your professor divided your class into two batches.
You weren't even aware that your exams already finished as you were walking to your locker to put away some books.
You understood that Johnny had issues and you hated that you can't do anything to help him. You would do anything for him if that means for the comfort inside him and his peace of mind. You might not know the reason for his depression but everyone has a reason and you know that everybody around you has some issues going on in their private lives. You look around, seeing other students do their thing, minding their own business, some are even bored and waiting for their exams, You saw Jennie and Jongin together looking at you with disgusted faces that you shrugged off.
Johnny saw you as you mindlessly walk your way to the visual room, and he followed behind you silently, as he looks over his ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend. He realized he never really had a connection with Jennie before, they were both just into the sex, and then it gets awkward when they started to talk.
You were already done setting the projector up, walking in the center to lay down when you heard someone entered, and when you saw Johnny at the entrance of the room, his hands on his sweatpants pocket as he gives you a look, you stood up and ran to give him a big hug. You shed tears for him, as you give him a tight hug.
"Why are you crying?" he asked.
"Aren't we friends?" You asked him as you hold him in your arms. "Friends share their pains. So, I'll be here. I just want you to know that I'll be here when you needed someone to be there with you." Johnny fought his tears but who was he kidding? He yearns for someone's affection and not because of who he was but because it was him. And this time, he finally had someone to share his pains with. People already viewed him as someone going on a phase, probably someone rebelling against his parents but Johnny was more than that. He didn't care about it, though. He learned to give less fuck about insignificant people around him.
"My father used to beat me up, Football was just an excuse to cover up these bruises." He admitted. He was disgusted and embarrassed about it. But it was you, and he knows that you're not one to judge someone based off on their appearances.
You shed more tears for him. "Johnny, You don't deserve that, no one deserves that," you say caressing his cheeks. You hated the cheesy statement but you ignore it anyway, what you were feeling at the moment isn't important. Johnny was opening up to you.
The two of you manage to have time off from the university and Practicum. (Johnny started his practicum last, last week, that's why he was MIA most of the time, that time.) Johnny was hanging out at your house, the problem was, your mother and brother are both at work, so you take it to yourself that being alone with him, at your house, is inappropriate. You drag him outside, leading the way to one of your favorite diners.
"I am telling you, you're going to regret that," you said.
"What's wrong with what I ordered?" Johnny did this little thing in his nose, and you take a moment to look at him as you smile at him. You ignore the stares around you, feeling like a sore thumb sticking and obviously, out of place. Johnny scowl at the man who was drunk out of his wits, shamelessly checking you out. This wasn't the first time, this always happened, but not to you though. You told him to ignore it, that man was probably in here to order a cup of coffee.
"Their chicken and waffles here are the best! I'm telling you, I'm not going to share with you."
One pout of his lips towards you and you were switching your plates towards Johnny. You told him, only because this was the first time that he got to try out your favorite dish, and there won't be a second chance in the future. Johnny was kind enough to share a piece of waffle with you. But not the chicken, though. He fell head over heels for it.
Bit by bit, Johnny's walls crumbled down around you, and before you knew it, both of you are inseparable. Johnny dating you spread like wildfire around campus, but there wasn't any truth behind that gossip, you were just a friend. Simple as that.
He was hanging more lately with your brother than you expected. Both of them have the same interest, so it wasn't a surprise when Johnny befriended most of your brother's friends.
Johnny was going on about how Jaehyun's a chill guy, Mark, and Donghyuck introducing him to play games, even Yuta, the University's drug dealer, as they brand him, was included in Taeil's group of friends.
"You didn't tell me that you knew Nakamoto Yuta," Johnny whispered behind you.
"Yeah, For some reason, I didn't want to get involved with most of them. Some girls are crazy about them and I just want peacefulness as I end my college years." You answered. Yuta was from the same department, Jaehyun was from the same university but was taking a different course, as well as Doyounga and Taeyong. Mark and Haechan still need a year before attending college. Ten was studying arts and your brother was a college dropout.
You were having pizza night at your house, your mother was kind enough to accommodate a bunch of men in her tiny house, seemingly impossible to fit 13 men inside, but it did. Instead of the usual party that frat houses and rich kids throw around, Taeil and the others like to keep it to themselves. Sharing one shot glass and downing a cheap rum as everybody waits for their turn. Most of them didn't think that Johnny would be fine with this kind of setup. Besides, he was branded as the campus king and a rich heir at that. He could spend Friday nights at some high-end bar and drink expensive alcohol. But no, instead, here he was, sitting on the cheap carpet your mother owns with a bunch of drunk men but you were glad that your brother is such a nice guy and so are his peers.
Johnny was glad, that he found true people, who accepts him for who he is and not because of who he was.
Doyoung placed you on the empty sofa, you have a low tolerance for alcohol, and you can't keep up with them anymore. The cheapest drink Taeyong bought isn't of cheap quality, you knew better than to judge a bottle chosen by him. You watch them with heavy eyelids, smiling at yourself, Mark and Donghyuck made fun of you by putting thick blankets around you and this was the first time Johnny saw you annoyed by the younger boys.
When Morning came, you were already on your bed as your head pounds. When you came downstairs to leave for school you look around and saw that last night's trace was gone as if 13 grown men didn't make a mess out of your mother's living room.
You wished you had gotten a coffee first when you entered your room way too early and saw that most of the students are yet to arrive, even water would be good, anything liquid down your throat would be good.
You saw Jaehyun and Johnny bidding farewells at the front of the room, students who were present to see the two interacting were shocked, for them, It was rare to see Johnny without his usual crew. But, who are they to decide that for Johnny? It was a rare sight to see, A popular music major and the famous ex-football captain, together?
When Johnny approached his spot beside you, he gives you the cold Iced latte he was holding fresh from Starbucks, completely ignoring unwanted stares behind his back.
"Good Morning," there was a warm aura surrounding him as he settled down beside you, and you look at him in awe. "What?" he asks.
You watched him for a moment, smiling at him as he looks at you questionably. "You're happy," you stated making Johnny pause for a second to think, he was sporting a baby pink hoodie and grey Nike pants, holding his Earpods and Macbook at the other hand. "I think I might be getting there."
Your heart swells up for him and as you fought back the tears that wanted to fall. Johnny reached out to you, wiping the strands of hair that keep falling on your face. "Sorry," you said. People might think that yesterday, Johnny was trying to end his life, and then suddenly, he was okay, because he never was, and you continuously walk on a thin thread around him, Johnny is like a ticking bomb and porcelain that needs to be handled with the utmost care. Five months ago, Johnny doesn't have the motivation to continue living his life, but here he was thriving to know what tomorrow can offer him.
For Johnny, meeting you was his saving grace, problems might fill up in his life, there is this constant reminder that society will always judge him the minute he does something wrong, there is his father, his stepmother who doesn't really pay attention to him, his old life and old self constantly reminding him the pain of the past.
"What happened to your eyes?" there were dark circles under his eyes and for a moment you thought that he has a lot in his mind to think about for the lack of sleep.
"I stayed up till dawn playing overwatch with Donghyuck and Mark last night." He says smiling.
"I'm glad your settling with the boys all right." Johnny watched you, how your long hair flow past your shoulders through your back, he loves the little freckles dancing all over your cheeks naturally and how a touch of pink creeps in your cheeks naturally because of the humid air.
You were really glad. "Do you want to go with me and Ten?" He asks you when your classes ended for the morning, both of you walked to the library to hide from prying and malicious eyes. "He wants to hang out in the nearest coffee shop." he continued and you agreed to go with him, making a turn for the exit.
Johnny ordered an Americano for him and a latte for you, eating the packed lunch your mother made for you and Johnny as you wait for Ten.
Ten arrived with Jaehyun in tow, placing their bags down Jaehyun took the seat beside you while Ten walked to the counter to order their drinks. Johnny looked at you and Jaehyun but ignore the malice running in his head.
"Kim Yerim!" the three of you looked at the entrance to see Johnny's sister entering the cafe, Yerim waved at someone across their table and saw his sister's friend Park Sooyoung waving frantically. Johnny turned to look at you and Jaehyun ignoring his sister who started walking inside, "What happened to you?" he asks Jaehyun,
"Why?"
"You're turning really red." Johnny pointed out and you snickered at Jaehyun who turns to look at Johnny's sister absentmindedly. "Man, That's my sister!" Johnny whispered-shout at him as he fought the urge to laugh at Jaehyun. Someone definitely has a crush on his little sister.
You and Johnny eyed each other, laughing as you both understood telepathically. "What's so funny?" Ten asks when he arrived and the both of you laughed loudly this time.
"Hyung!" Jaehyun shouted at him his ears turning red.
When Johnny got home, he locked himself up in his room that his step-mother finally asked to clean. He was busy waiting for Donghyuck and Mark to play when he heard a knock on his door.
"Can I come in?" His step-mother asked. Yerim's mother is a great person, but that doesn't really mean that she's a good mother to both him and Yerim, he can't really judge her though, she's still young and living her dreams but then his father got her pregnant with Yerim and then here she is stuck at this hell of a household, all three of them under the strings of his father.
"Yes." He says.
Kim Ah-Jong walked inside, placing a warm cup of milk beside him for the first time, "Johnny," She started as he settled at the edge of Johnny's bed facing him. Johnny turns his chair to face her too, holding the warm mug in his hand to seek comfort in this awkward setting.
"I don't know how to start, but I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry," she paused for a second, ignoring the lump in her throat, "I hope you forgive me for replacing your mother's position, and that I'm really grateful because you love your sister more than anything even though you didn't have the same mother."
"It's the least that I could do." He says.
"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry if I failed you as a mother, I was busy finding myself to the point you and Yerim grow up without the right amount of affection from us. We're such horrible parents and I wanted to say sorry on behalf of your father. You don't deserve this, no one else did."
That night, Johnny slept soundly in his own home for the first time in a while.
Yerim was shocked to see her mom attending to his brother, it's as if she suddenly had a change of heart and finally started to be a mother to his brother. Her father was another problem, he still hasn't moved on from his son's attempt. Spitting atrocious words early in the morning making Johnny regret even joining the breakfast.
Kim Ah-jong had enough of his husband's wrath, it was still morning and his husband is starting to get on her nerves. She stabs her bread knife on their table as she turns her head towards him, "Is still early in the morning for the love of God, Kim Ji Hoon. Must you really ruin our morning?" she says.
Both Yerim and Johnny were stunned at her, their father shutting up in instant at the fear her wife would stab her.
Johnny and Yerim drive to the University that day together, "Oh, do you mind if we stop by at my friend's house? I promise to pick him up." Johnny asks and Yerim nodded.
Johnny smirked, he was excited to see Jaehyun's reaction.
Johnny pulled up in front of Jaehyun's apartment, sending him a message the was up in front of his building, after a minute, Jaehyun emerges from the entrance of the building running to get to his car with a tumbler in his other hand.
Johnny pulled the window down and Jaehyun saw Yerim first, he stopped midway, flustered that a girl was with his young, and It was no other than his sister. he played it cool and sat at the back.
"Oh, Yerim-ah, this is Jaehyun. He's my friend."
Jaehyun didn't expect her to turn around and bow her head down. "Thank you so much for taking good care of my brother."
Johnny became flustered with Yerim but laughed it off instead. Jaehyun bowed his head towards her saying it was nothing. Yerim was unaware of the looks she was getting from the older boy sitting at the back seat of his brother's car as Johnny keeps throwing playful glances at the back while he drove them to the school.
Graduation was already nearing, both you and Johnny were already finished with your practicum, Johnny was moving boxes towards his car, for some reason, his father allowed him to have his own flat, his step-mother saying that it would be the best for him and his mental health to have some space between them and that they should give him some time and space. His father was adamant at first but has nothing to do in the end.
"Just let him do what he wants, He's already graduating, with honors! He already did everything you wanted it's the least you could do for him." he heard his step-mother argue a while ago with his father. Johnny still had to go home every Sunday at the main house, though.
You and Taeil volunteered to help him with his moving and he was glad, to say the least. Yerim contacted you to do his groceries for him and the two of you left the older boys as you went to the market with Yerim.
Yerim was a cool young woman, she was matured for her own age, you learned that she was very frank at what she wants and that she loves her brother so much.
"I'm really glad my brother meet you," she says as she links her right arms with you, you were both walking to the parking lot, and you smiled at her blushing.
"Honestly, I never really liked his old friends. Jongin? Nope. Chanyeol? He's an asshole. Everyone in that damn team is an ass except for Sehun," she says as both of you entered the market, pulling a big cart in the process, and continued walking ahead. "You and your brother are surrounded by good people. Do you know that? And I'm kind of jealous of you, not that I don't have good friends, I do."
"Well, consider me someone you can be with so those good people will surround you too," you said smiling, Yerim giggled at you.
It took Johnny a week before really settling down in his apartment, he invited the guys over to have a small welcoming party, drinking and playing till the sun rises.
Johnny was busy typing at his laptop as you were both doing your last requirement for college, papers, and documents were all scattered around his living room when he turns his head to look at you. "Are you comfortable with those jeans?" He asks.
You look at your pants, it is uncomfortable.
"I don't have extra clothes," Johnny poked at his cheeks with his tongue, he stood up and went inside his room, when he came back he was holding clean boxer shorts. "You can use this if you want," he says as he extends his arms to you. You gladly took it and went to his bathroom to change.
Johnny thinks this was more dangerous than when he had blood oozing out of his wrist, you had your toned legs on display for him, and only him. It wasn't helping at all. Without knowing, he stared at your legs for a good minute, the urge of having his hands run along the lines of your thighs was becoming unbearable. He was amazed by the lack of hair you had around your arms and legs, was it liked that too with the parts your clothes have covered? He can't help the wild imaginations running around his head with the things he wants to do to you.
Johnny focused his attention back on the screen of his laptop. What the fuck is he even thinking? It's you, his fucking angel. How dare he have dirty thoughts about you. He mentally slaps himself and went back to typing.
You noticed Johnny having a mental crisis because of you and you silently laugh at him, extending your legs further to have your skin touch his thighs.
after hours of being productive with your work, You and Johnny decided to call it a night.
After a week of preparations for the upcoming finals, you and Johnny decided to meet up, the waiter placed both of your orders in front of you and Johnny, who give the waiter a small smile while uttering a quick "Thank you." You eyed Jhonny's food who looks somewhat more delicious than your Pesto Pasta. You don't even know why you ordered it, you never even tasted it before, you just want to— maybe, impress the guy in front of your table who were giving you obvious looks about the taste pallet you had which is definitely of a 13 Years old.
Johnny gives you a look while shaking his head, knowing all too well that you wanted a bite of it. Looking at you who's eyeing his barbeque bacon burger with fries on the side— It's usually what the two of you order and he was shocked that you ordered something out of the ordinary. He knew that you weren't the type of girl to go out of your comfort zone. You like what you usually eat, what you usually drink, and what type of clothing you usually wear. You are a very simple, young woman. You don't usually try things out of the blue, especially, when the two of you are both hungry.
Instantly, Johnny switched both plates. Giving you his food whilst saying a silent goodbye to the famous BBQ burger that he craves so much after winning a football game, which, he deserves. "What are you doing?" you asked shocked. You already saw him digging in and wincing at the taste. "Why the fuck would you even order this thing?" he asked.
You looked at the guy at the other table. You both were giving silent glances, he's good-looking and obviously from another school but you don't do other schools, that is the thing, you'd rather date someone from the same school, same department or same village. You don't like the hassle. People can go ahead and say your such a basic bitch, which in fact, you are. You finally give your full attention to Johnny who looks at his back to find some guy obviously ogling your face. That was the scariest thing in the world for him, guys ogling your face rather than your body, honestly, it was obvious from guys falling for your body— they just want to get in your pants, but guys who fall for your beauty is different.
You start digging in with your food. "This is the reason why I love you so much." You stated giving your burger a bite.
"Why would you even want to eat this." He says. You give him a chuckle as you extend your right arm towards him, offering him a bite of your burger, which he gladly took. "I'm sorry, I'm such a pain in the ass." You said.
"I kidnapped you in your after party and I'm so sorry, I didn't know Jennie's going to be there, and now you're eating something you don't even like. Man, you don't deserve this." You continued. Sincerely saying sorry towards him— picking a fry and dipping it on the ketchup provided at the side of your plate.
For some reason, Things work out for him and the team, It was going to be his last year playing, and the higher-ups decided for him to lead the team again, making Jongin lose face around the campus. It wasn't like before, It was expected, Johnny was just professional around them, leading them at the court and out of sight, after.
"What? No way. This is what I deserve. A peaceful dinner and finally having time with you." He says after biting at the toasted bread the pasta has. It was true though, Johnny was talking with Jennie again, well, but not exactly dating her, as students would say around campus. They dated, but that was that, he can't even imagine being good friends with someone who cheated on him, he was just being civil with her, ending things with a good note and leaving the better past behind him, and you haven't really had the chance to hang out together since their coach intensified their training hours and days, and right after that Johnny would hang out with your brother and the other guys.
"What did my brother say, though? with you being with me tonight? You guys are basically dating each other by now," you joked.
"Yeah, he's cool with it. Don't worry, I told him about our meeting before you actually kidnapped me." He gives you a smirk and you give him a confused look. "I was actually going to ask you for a dinner with me after the game." You rolled your eyes at him.
"Wow." You commented. You were practically like a twin at this rate. "Can I ask you something, though?" Johnny didn't know whether to ask because he was curious or just wait for you to open up to him, for some reason, Johnny felt naked around you. You knew everything about him, you have him wrapped around your pretty little fingers "What if I don't want to?" You countered and he scoffed.
"What was the reason you transferred? you only had a year to finish before graduating," Your face fell and he instantly saw how your face contorted into a frown. "Why are you making that face?" he asked.
"I had a bad break up to the point that I was destroying myself." You finally said like it was nothing. Johnny stopped everything that he's doing, giving you a look as if asking why. He felt like an idiot. How can he? at your worst time? "I'm such a horrible friend." He says.
"It's not your fault, and I'm even sorry that I didn't tell you sooner." You said quietly. Suddenly your favorite dish from the dinner doesn't look appealing anymore. "And I wanted time for myself, you know, he cheated on me."
the clicking of utensils can be heard throughout the diner when he dropped them to the table. He was fuming mad.
"It wasn't anyone's fault, though. if anything. It was mine. I lost interest in our relationship, didn't have time for him, and just lost everything along the way." You said while moving your plate towards him which he gladly took, abandoning the pasta you ordered and eating the half of the burger you had. But the real reason was, you can't stop comparing your ex-boyfriend to him.
"Still isn't a reason to cheat on you." He says after taking a bite. You move your lemonade in front of you and lazily sip on it. He drops the topic knowing all too well that you don't want to talk about it. Still, he felt guilty for some reason, What could go wrong?
Right, Johnny Suh is starting to have feelings for you, and definitely not in a platonic way.
And you don't have any idea about it.
He opened your bag that was beside him and fetch the wet wipes that were inside. He opened it and out of habit cleaned your fingers with it. And you let him, smiling. "I wished I meet you sooner," He looked at you and smiled. "I'm really sorry I haven't been with you for the last 21 years." you joked as you let him dry your fingers with a dry napkin that the diner provides.
You were about to head out— fetching the car keys that you placed on the bowl beside the main door when you hear a familiar honk outside your house. Your hands slip past your keys and you walk the small distance to your door, opening it the cold air of December heats your face and Johnny greeted you with his usual beam on his face, his left hand stretched up outside his window, giving you a wave.
You smiled to yourself, biding your mom a quick goodbye and you were off to school with your best friend.
"Good Morning." He greeted you when you opened the door of his black Audi.
"Good Morning, indeed." You said facing him after securing yourself with the seat belt. There was a tint of pink in Johnny's checks that you choose to ignore.
Pulling up at the parking lot in front of the university's main building where a lot of students lingered chatting with their circle of friends— Johnny smoothly maneuvered and parked at his usual spot.
You both get out of his car and started to walk to the building.
"See you at lunch?" he asked when you neared your classroom— you were slightly shocked. "Won't you be eating with Yerim today?" you asked as you stopped in your tracks facing him. "Doesn't have to." He simply replied and you nod your head. "She'll be mad, John." You said as a matter of fact— facing him while slowly backing away as he marly give you a shrug. "She doesn't have the right, though." you rolled your eyes at him "Just ask her to eat with us!"
Graduation was nearing and you've been offered a job at one of the top companies in the city, you didn't have the reason to turn them down so you accept and were set to sign the contract right after having your diploma.
This calls for a celebration, though.
When Johnny heard that he was the first one to know about something significant in his life, he was delighted.
You found yourself getting tipsy with the cheap booze in front of you and Johnny. You were laughing at something he said about his sister, holding the cheap beer in your hand as you chug the contents down your through. "Okay, That's enough," Johnny said whilst grabbing the cans of beer and putting them back at his refrigerator. You pout back at him but don't argue, you still have to attend your classes tomorrow morning and you don't want to miss anything for the last weeks you have for being a college student.
Johnny tucked you in his bed and you bid the sweetest goodnight on him, he leaves a sweet kiss on your forehead before heading for the couch in the living room to sleep on, since he had no energy to actually drive you home.
You woke up that night, feeling rather hot, unconsciously stripping out of your pants and bra out of habit, you walked to the kitchen for some water.
Walking with blurred vision, you find your way into the kitchen. The lights were dim as you passed by the living room completely ignoring the fact that Johnny could definitely walk on you wearing only your white tee and undies.
You helped yourself around the kitchen, rummaging in the refrigerator for a jar of water, your hands felt the cold lid of the jar, popping it open and chugging the contents down. You giggled after realizing that you should probably use glass and act like a lady for once since you're not in your own place.
You hissed as you struggle, reaching for a glass in the cupboard. "Just why is it placed so fucking high?" you asked yourself. A hand reached for the glass and you turned around, shocked and ready to pounce the person behind you.
you came face to face with Johnny. His face, only inches away from you. His hands find their way to your waist as he looked at you and the glass in his hands, he purred his self some water in the glass and chugged the whole content down.
"I got thirsty," he said. You moved beside so you don't disturb him, stepping at least five steps away.
He looked you up and down, the smell of booze around, is strong, it almost made you gag. Feeling the cold air between your legs, you looked at yourself. "Fuck." realizing that you were only wearing your white t-shirt; that you probably owned since 7th grade— Your breast was obvious that even your nipples were prominent, your shirt just hanging before your hip bone and then your undies.
You mentally slap yourself. He put the glass down and you put your hair in front to at least cover your hardening nipples away from him. Chills run down your spine as he took another step forward, clearing the distance between you.
"Hey-" he cut you off.
"Johnny," he says.
"What?" you asked, barely whispering. Your eyes moved down on their own, from his eyes down to his upper body, he was shirtless, giving you free access to his perfectly sculpted body, his pelvis, so sharp even a God couldn't compare. Again, you felt the burning sensation coming back in your throat. You touched your neck instantly as you tried to swallow.
"My name, say it," he whispered, you looked up only to be met by his eyes, dark with unknown lust as if burning you within. He keeps staring at you, keeping you captive with his eyes that you somehow felt naked.
"Johnny," you whispered trying not to sound like your practically moaning his name. He took a step forward, leaving no space between you and him. "Again." He commands you. You sucked a deep breath as you avoid eye contact.
"Johnny."
He used his index finger to lift your head as his thumb drew circles just below your chin to the base of your neck. blood rushed to your face as you suddenly felt hot on your cheeks as he put his hands on your waist again. He tilts his head, the smell of alcohol mixed with his aftershave and mint filled your senses, suddenly it wasn't too dark anymore.
He brushes his lower lip against yours that you barely felt it. He licked his lower lip as you bite yours. He stares intently at you. "You know, I would appreciate it if you don't walk around the house in these." his hands hot on your skin.
all rationality seems to fly out of the window, both of you staring at each other gazes, Johnny pulling you in for a much deeper kiss. "Didn't know you were this naughty with alcohol in your system," he murmured, Johnny's soft languid kisses were driving you wild, he moves at the base of your neck and sucked at the soft skin before pressing light kisses.
"Do you have any idea how much I want you?" he says softly, your breath hitches without knowing and you deliciously clenched around nothing upon hearing his statement, you were hypnotized by his eyes. Leaning down, he kisses you again.
You put your hands around his chest to push him slightly, gazing up toward him, "I want this," you whispered. "No. Not in the morning when you're sober enough to regret this," Johnny says, you ignore him and pulled him down to kiss him again, and Johnny lost all his logic with how delicious you tasted, you guide his hands on the hem of your shirt and slowly he peels it off for you and lets it fall down the floor.
Johnny put his arms around you and hauls you against his body, squeezing you tightly, his hands traveled down your waist and down to your behind, he holds you against his hips, and you feel his erection, which he gladly pushes into you, easily lifting you from the floor after, you moan once more in his mouth, He eases you towards the bed and you feel your back against the soft cushion once more.
Tentatively, you move your hands up to his face and his hair, tugging at it lightly as if implying for him to take you fully. But Johnny has other plans in his mind. He grabs your hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around your navel, gently nipping his way to your hipbone and across your belly to the other. "Ah," You groan.
Seeing him on top of you, between your legs as you feel his hot breath against your skin, Is unexpected, but you wanted this as much as he wants it. Your hand on his hair, pulling gently as you try to quiet your loud breathing. He gazes up at you through impossibly long-lashed, and chocolate-colored eyes. His hand reaches the hem of your black underwear, leisurely pulling it down without taking his eyes off you, he stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. Johnny leans forward, running his nose up the apex between your thighs, and you feel him.
"You smell so fucking good," he murmurs and closes his eyes. a look of pure pleasure on his face and you practically convulse.
You raise yourself on your elbows to see what he's doing, you were panting, you wanted him right there. shit
Moaning, you felt him run his tongue on the sleek of your heat, "Keep still," he murmurs and then leans down again to kiss down your clit. "How can I not move? you're making me feel this good." you felt him smirk against your skin. "Then, we'll have to work on keeping you still." there was a dangerous tone laced in his voice and you find it impossibly hot and twisted. You're flushed, skin burning, too hot, too cold, and you're craving more as you clawed at the sheets beneath you.
Johnny moves forward and you protested but the pleasure came back once more when he blows very gently on one of yours mound, his hands moving to the other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of your nipple, elongating it. You moan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to your groin.
"Johnny," you were wet, "Please," you beg silently as your fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around your nipple and he tugs, making you convulse. He doesn't stop.
Johnny moves his fingers around your clit, drawing circles as he laps on your mound, you let yourself go from his touch. His thumb and finger continue doing you deliciously and you fall apart on his hands.
"Oh," you won't lie, that felt extraordinary, and now, you know the fuss around him is about. He gazes down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face and you're still in owe from your high.
Johnny was amazed at how responsive you are, he laced his fingers around you, drawing slow and lazy circles around your clit again, bringing another set of heat in your core. He closes his eyes briefly, his breathing hitches. You're deliciously wet and Johnny doesn't want to fuck you with a condom on, and neither did you.
He reaches over the bedside table, anyway, grabbing a foil packet, and then moving out of the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You saw him, and your mouth watered at how long and thick he is. He kneels on the bed and pulls the condom onto his length. "I really don't want to use one."
"Is that going to fit in?"
"Don't worry," He breathes, "You're wet enough, Angel. I know you can make me well," He murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of your sex and pushing hard.
"Aargh!" You cry as you felt him sliding in, there was a weird sensation pinching deep inside you as he rips through you without warning. Johnny stills, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph. His mouth opened slightly, his breathing harsh. He groans wanting to move.
"Fuck, baby, so tight."
"Johnny, Wait."
He stills for a moment, "Why?" You held onto his forearms, fucking him with a condom doesn't feel right, you wanted every little part of him, you wanted to feel him. Raw. "I- Can we remove the condom?" Johnny asks as if reading your mind.
You nod at him, You felt him slide out of you, removing the condom and throwing it at the trash bin beside his bed. Johnny positions his self once more, easing on to you, groaning. He loved every bit of it, this was the first time that you had sex without using protection, and the same thing goes for Johnny. Moving your hips up to him, as a sign that you wanted him to move already. He groans. You felt so full, as he let you acclimatize at the overwhelming feeling of him inside you. Naked, and Raw.
He eases back with exquisite slowness. Closing his eyes, Johnny controlled himself not on to fuck you hard, He thrust into you again, and you cry out in pleasure. He shifts into his elbow, and you feel his weight on you, holding you down. He moves painfully slow at first, easing himself in and out of you. You grew impatient and you can't help but move your hips up tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. Pounding on you, picking up speed by the second, merciless and in a relentless rhythm.
you can't help yourself to meet his thrust, making Johnny lose his mind because of you. Your body quivers. a sheen of sweat gathers over you. Your thoughts are scattered. There's only the feeling of him, of you, and him, and you stiffen.
"Come for me, baby," he whispers breathlessly, and you unravel at his words, exploding around him as you climax and shard into pieces with every being you had underneath him. And as he comes inside you, calling your name, thrusting hard, the stalling as he empties himself into you.
Johnny's breathing was ragged as you try to slow your breathing, your heart thumping hard and your thoughts in a disarray, you opened your eyes. His eyes flickered open and gaze down at you, dark but soft. He's still inside you, leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against your forehead then slowly pulls out of you.
Johnny cleaned you up and spoon you to sleep, he hoped that in the morning you won't regret what happened. Because he loved every moment of it.
--
Part 2? I didn't put the taglist because this is already reposted. so, yeah, hope u guys enjoyed! let me know what you think, I feel like i sucked making this.
#johnny suh#johnnysmut#johnnyangst#johnnyfluff#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun smut#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct127#NCTU#nct johnny#marklee#HaeChan#Taeil#Yuta#wayv ten#wayv#johnny x reader
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Sleepless Nights (Kageyama Tobio x Reader)
Anonymous said:
Hi hi hope you're doing well! I was wondering if I could request a fic with giving kageyama a blow job for the first time? You can take it further if you want, whatever you want! Love your writing 😊
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Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 2,973
Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (male recieving), language, Kageyama being a perfect angel baby.
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I didn’t think that I was a simp for Kageyama but like maybe...?👀👀👀 I hope that you guys like it! It was a lot of fun writing lmao. Also bonus points if you can catch the reference I made😂 I’m still shuffling through my inbox, I won’t be doing all the requests that have been asked but I will still be doing a select few. Please enjoy:)
~~~~
You shifted nervously in your seat, weakly smiling at the orange haired male that was blatantly staring you down.
This was incredibly awkward.
“Stop staring at her dumbass!” Kageyama growled, setting down his milk cartoon to slap the middle blocker, who easily dodged his advances.
“Why are you dating Kageyama!? He’s a bad guy!” Hinata yelled getting in your face.
“OI!” Kageyama grabbed the back of his uniform, yanking him away from you.
You furrowed your brows in confusion at his statement, a bad guy? Kageyama was far from it.
“I really like him.” you blurted out, pausing their fighting, the tall setter looked at you with a shocked face, blush coating his cheeks in embarrassment. Hinata on the other hand looked mortified at your statement. “He’s very kind and strong.” you finished, glancing down at your bento, now you were embarrassed at your confession.
“He’s not kind at all! But he is strong! His tosses are the best!” Hinata declared, returning his attention to his large sandwich.
Kageyama ignored him, his blue eyes focusing on you completely. You guys had only been dating for a couple of weeks but… those past couple of weeks he’s never been happier.
You were in the same class as Yachi, but the store that he went to often was the same store that you worked at part time. Before you knew it, a friendship began to blossom between the two of you, and then you guys literally ran into each other during a morning run.
Come to find out that you guys went to the same school and were in the same year. Although, you were completely unaware of the tall male and his club activities. You were on the swim team, on the complete opposite side of where the volleyball gym was.
But after that friendship began to bloom, something new took its place. Something more vibrant, and far sweeter.
You were the first one to confess your feelings, despite the nerves, despite the fear that he wasn’t going to feel the same. You knew how hard he worked at volleyball, you figured that he wouldn’t have time in his life for a girlfriend, but the secret ate you up inside. When you had confessed, you were already prepared for the rejection that he would give you, only it never came.
He liked you too.
Naturally you guys began dating, and it was pure heaven. Despite his awkwardness, things slowly became more natural. It wasn’t until now that he started to introduce you to his friends.
Hence the strange interaction you just had with the middle blocker.
“Is Y/n-chan going to come to the game tomorrow?” Hinata asked with his mouth full of food.
You perked up at that, beaming at the small male. “I am! It’ll be my first time seeing a volleyball game! I’m very excited.”
“Eh!? You’ve never seen a volleyball game before!? What have you been doing!?” Hinata exclaimed.
Kageyama scowled at him. “Y/n isn’t a volleyball player. She’s on the swim team, she doesn’t have time to focus on volleyball like you do dumbass.”
Before another fight between the two began you started talking. “I’ve never been interested in the sport. I’ve always been really busy with swim meets and fundraisers. But when Tobio talks about volleyball it sounds like a lot of fun! Your team sounds so strong!” You said brightly.
Kageyama felt his heart thump harder in his chest at your praise. The clear happiness and excitement on your face was undeniably adorable.
“What do you do when you swim Y/n-chan!?” Hinata asked excitedly.
“I only swim free.” You said proudly, grinning at the smaller male. “It’s the only style I swim during meets.”
“She’s really good too.” Kageyama stated, thinking back when he had gone to his first ever swim meet. You were incredible in the water, breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you swam, you were elegant and beautiful, your movements gliding through the water easily.
He had never seen anything more perfect before.
“I don’t know what that means but it sounds cool! You’re cool Y/n-chan!” Hinata said brightly.
You couldn’t help but grin back, all traces of awkwardness gone now. “Thanks, Hinata!”
Lunch ended without a hitch now, the conversation was easy with Hinata, despite the constant fighting, it was incredibly fun.
Before you could head back to class Kageyama grabbed your hand gently. He stared off into the distance, blushing softly as he glanced over to you quickly.
“Will you wait for me after practice?” he asked.
You squeezed his hand carefully, ignoring your racing heart. “Of course! Let’s walk home together Tobio.” you smiled sweetly.
He nodded once before releasing your hand and walking off; Hinata was already long gone by now.
You smiled softly to yourself, the tall setter had a hold on your heart like no other. You couldn’t wait for the game on Saturday.
****
As promised, you stood outside of the volleyball gym, kicking lightly at a rock near your foot.
“Y/n-chan!” you heard a familiar voice call out, you looked up smiling at the orange haired male jumping and waving his arms around, several others looking at you in curiosity.
“Shut up Hinata! Boke!” Kageyama growled grabbing his head. After a couple of shoves, Kageyama made his way over to you.
“Ready?” you asked sweetly, beaming up at the tall setter. He felt his face flush but nodded, reaching to carry your bag.
“Yeah let’s go.” he said, slugging it over his other shoulder before taking your small hand into his own.
“What? Is that Kageyama’s girlfriend?” Tsukishima asked, intending for it to be a joke.
“Yeah! She’s super cool!” Hinata said excitedly. “Y/n-chan is on the swim team! She only swims free! Whatever that means!”
“... WAIT WHAT!?”
“KAGEYAMA HAS A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE ME!?”
“BUT SHE’S TOO CUTE!”
“THE UNIVERSE HAS FORSAKEN ME!”
“SHUT UP AND GO HOME EVERYONE!”
“... Yes Daichi.”
****
Kageyama couldn’t help but notice that your hand was cool, and that your hair was still wet from your swim practice.
“Are you cold?” he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eye.
You shook your head. “I’m fine. Besides, we're already at my house.”
You looked up at the dark-haired setter who was scratching the back of his head, not meeting your gaze.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, finally looking at you, his face slightly flushed.
“Bright and early. You’ll do great.” You smiled, hands resting on his uniform. “Sleep well?”
He nodded and stooped down as you stood up on your tiptoes, his slightly chapped lips gently brushing against yours before sealing your lips in a gentle kiss goodnight.
This wasn’t your first kiss with Kageyama. Surprisingly, kisses came incredibly easy for the awkward setter. He loved how soft your lips were, and how he could taste the melon lip gloss on his lips afterwards.
Your heart raced in your chest, and you were tempted to pull him in deeper, wanting the kiss to develop more and last longer, but all too soon he pulled away, giving you a soft smile before taking his leave.
That boy was going to be the death of you.
The rest of the night progressed uneventfully, and you soon found yourself freshly showered and ready for bed.
Practice must’ve been incredibly draining for you, because as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.
It had to be at least three in morning when your phone began to ring. You sleepily fumbled around for it before squinting at the bright screen.
Kageyama.
“Hello?” you answered, voice thick with sleep.
“I’m sorry for waking you.” he said softly. “I just couldn’t sleep. Is it okay if I come over?”
“Yeah. Let me open my window.” you mumbled quietly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, turning on your bedside lamp before shuffling yourself out of bed to open the window.
This also wasn’t the first time you’ve done this either.
Even before you guys had started dating, Kageyama frequented your bedroom many nights to hang out.
You could barely keep your eyes open as you waited for Kageyama to show up, it had been about fifteen minutes before you saw a familiar figure slip through the open window and quietly close it behind him.
You gave Kageyama a sleepy smile from your bed, noticing his grey sweatpants and black pullover. He looked good, incredibly good.
You hadn’t noticed his sharp intake of breath. Kageyama swallowed thickly as he took in your sleepy appearance. Your hair was tousled from sleep, the baggy white shirt did nothing to hide your hardened nipples that were now straining against the thin fabric from the frigid air. Your soft legs were incredibly exposed to his eyes and… oh fuck, your pink colored panties were on full display now.
“Why can’t you sleep?” you asked, yawning, stretching your arms above your head. This caused your shirt to pull up more, revealing the delicate white bow on the front of your panties.
Kageyama couldn’t tear his eyes away, his pants tightening ever so slightly.
“T-Too pent up for the game tomorrow.” he said, finally snapping his eyes away from your figure.
His palms were incredibly sweaty at this point, blood roaring in his ears as he attempted to calm his racing heart.
“I see.” you said tiredly. “Well we can play a game on the console until you feel tired.” you stretched your body out on the bed as you reached for your side table drawer, your upper body lying flat, your bottom swaying slightly in the air.
Kageyama’s eyes zeroed in on your ass, the panties hugging your cheeks perfectly, and the urge to grab at those perfect mounds of flesh caused his fingers to twitch at his sides.
This definitely wasn’t good, because now he was pent up for an entirely different thing.
“Here it is.” you mumbled to yourself, completely unaware of the internal conflict that was going on in front of you. You looked over at him, sitting up on your knees and patting the spot next to you on the bed. “Come here.”
He sat down next to you stiffly, carefully resting his back against the wall.
“Get comfortable Tobio.” you said in amusement, yawning once more. He nodded robotically as he situated himself a bit better on the bed, making sure to rest his legs in a position that prevented you from seeing the increasing tent in his pants.
You handed him the game, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling him stiffen slightly before relaxing as he started playing.
He had only begun playing for a couple of minutes before your eyes began to droop in exhaustion, you wrapped your arms around his bicep as you settled against him comfortably.
But he could feel your breasts pressing into his arm, his character dying in the game as he started to focus more on you.
While your relationship was still relatively new, you guys definitely weren’t strangers to cuddling or gentle touches.
Kageyama was definitely familiar with the desire that was now coursing through his veins. The first time he had experienced this was the first time he had gone to your swim meet. While the swimsuit that you wore wasn’t necessarily the most flattering thing, you were definitely beautiful, and the revealed skin of your body did something to him.
“Y/n,” he whispered, causing your head to jerk up as you were startled awake. But before you could even process what was happening, Kageyama tossed the gaming console at the edge of the bed, twisting his body slightly as he moved to cup your face, and pressing his mouth against yours.
A noise of surprise was made in the back of your throat, but you kissed him back. Arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him into you. The tiredness you were feeling began fading away, want and need seeping into your body now.
The kiss developed quickly, your tongue carefully tracing his lips before they parted in surprise. Your fingers were twisting in his black hair now as you pulled him in deeper. Your tongue massaging his, in a hot, slippery mess.
One of his hands rested on the side of your neck, keeping you to him, while the other was placed carefully on your waist.
This wasn’t enough though. You needed more. Carefully you swung your leg over his hip, maneuvering yourself so that you were now straddling him, your core pressing directly into his crotch.
And that's when you felt it, a growing hardness that began pressing against you in your most intimate areas.
Kageyama ripped himself away from your lips, his expression dazed as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry.” he breathed out.
You ignored him and carefully grinded your hips down against him, wanting more. A choked sound escaped his swollen lips, his hands darting out to grip your hips tightly, preventing you from moving further against him.
“What are you doing?” he panted, his pants were incredibly tight like his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Let me.” You whimpered, tugging at his hands. “Let me help. Let me take care of you.”
You scrambled out of his lap, his face confused and dazed as you settled yourself between his legs. Your hands gently ran up and down his strong thighs, you could feel the muscles flexing under your sweet touch.
“You want to sleep right? I’ll make you tired.” You whispered and started tugging at his pants. You didn’t know what came over you, but all you knew was that you wanted to see Kageyama unravel before you. You wanted to hear more of those noises escape his lips.
“W-Wait.” he grabbed your hands, staring at you with wide eyes. “Are you… what are you -” “trust me.” you interrupted him, “I’ll make you feel so good Tobio, please?”
The pleading that was escaping your lips made you feel a bit pathetic, but that feeling was overshadowed by the complete need to make him feel good.
He stared at you for a bit longer before nodding, his hands released yours as you pushed his pullover up slightly, working his pants and underwear over his hips and then… fuck. Your mouth watered at the sight. His member contrasted beautifully with the hard lines of his lower stomach; the splatter of dark hair caused your stomach to twist pleasantly. Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him, the skin soft and hot beneath your fingers.
Kageyama’s breath became more labored, coming out in short and quick pants. His eyes fluttering shut at your touch.
You stared in awe as you began stroking him up and down carefully, his cock pulsing in your hand.
You wondered… your tongue darted out, flicking softly at the swollen head, tasting the bitterness of the leaking precum.
A strangled groan escaped Kageyama’s mouth, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. Your eyes flickered up to look at him.
Fuck. You had always thought that Kageyama was beautiful, but this time.... You wanted to burn that image of him into your mind forever.
His eyes were half-lidded, the pupils blown completely, sweat stuck to his skin causing his hair to cling to his forehead. His cheeks flushed a beautiful red, his lips parted and swollen from his constant biting.
He was perfect.
You ignored the hand that was gripping your wrist and lowered your mouth further onto the head of his cock. He flinched, body shuddering as you started sinking down lower. Your mouth was like a furnace, hot and wet, Kageyama didn’t think he could get any harder than he was.
“W-What are you doing?” he choked out, reaching to pull you off his member. “Y-You shouldn’t put that in your -” you started swirling your tongue against his head. He whimpered loudly, biting at the neckline of his pullover, muffling the sounds that started to pour from his lips.
You started moving, slowly dragging your mouth up and down, your tongue dragging against the underside of his cock. You continued this movement for a moment, before increasing the pace, and sucking harder.
His hips thrusted up in a short and tight movement, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden touch, felt tears sting at your eyes, but it was worth it.
His long fingers carefully reached down and dragged gently against your cheek, he was staring at you, pleasure contorting his face beautifully.
“You’re so pretty.” he breathed out, his breath getting caught in his throat as you began flicking your tongue rapidly against his head now.
“I… ngh… I’m not - not gonna last… l-long.” he stuttered out. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, and then you began to feel thick spurts of cum hit your tongue, you hummed softly at the taste of him, easily swallowing his load down your throat.
Carefully you pulled your mouth off of his softening member, watching him as he struggled to breathe, his eyes were screwed shut still, his brows furrowed.
“Tired?” you asked softly, your hand gentling rubbing against one of his locked thighs. His eyes fluttered open, staring at you in awe. He nodded softly before tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his clothes.
He held an arm out to you wordlessly, your body easily tucking into his side as you guys laid on your bed. His scent wafting into your nose, causing your eyes to flutter shut, you were tired now too.
“I think… now I’ll be able to win my game tomorrow.” he said quietly after a moment.
Your lips twitched into a smile as you pressed your face deeper into his chest.
“Go to sleep Tobio.”
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#haikyuu smut#kageyama tobio#kageyama x reader#kageyama x you#kageyama smut#kageyama fluff#reader insert#request#kageyama tobio x reader#kageyama tobio x you#imagines#haikyuu kageyama#fluff#smut
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‘Wherever You Are’ - Shoto Todoroki/Eijiro Kirishima
A/N: This piece is for my @bnhabookclub bingo card! I’m crossing out “Be Quiet” and ‘Heated Argument’. I would also like to thank @honeytama @shoutogepi and @dragonhrte for beta reading <333
Pairings: Pro Hero!Todoroki x F!Reader / Pro Hero!Kirishima x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+, smut, mutual masturbation, minor temperature play, minor angst!
Summary: Todoroki already broke your heart when he said he was leaving for 6 months, but Kirishima can glue your broken heart back together before he returns...right?
Word Count: 5.2k
masterlist
“6 months.”
The words stung more than they should’ve. Half a year of not being able to see his face, hold his hand, sleep together in the same bed.
“Does it have to be so long? Do you really have to go?”
God your mind ran at a hundred miles a minute. Searching his face for any semblance of wanting to rethink the offer about heroing in America. But the sympathetic glance in his eyes was enough to tell you what his words could not.
Of course you were proud of him, of course you were. It wasn’t a minor thing in his career and not many heroes would be selected for such an astounding opportunity. Top heroes in Japan touring around America to show their quirks and how different cultures portrayed their heroes. A bit flamboyant for Todoroki but you presumed he was only following as Deku and Ground Zero were also picked for the once-in-a-lifetime gig.
“I’ll be back before you know it baby, I promise.”
So you took that promise to heart.
-
In the following months leading to his departure, there was a heavy air between the two of you that wouldn’t be mentioned. As if you both knew the inevitable was coming. How would you two manage a relationship from thousands of miles away? You had read every article on the internet, even bought books and followed tags that allowed you to know how to keep the fire burning between the two of you.
Shoto was typically quiet, he always was. But as he began packing his bags for the long tour, he was deathly silent. The guilt of leaving you by yourself in your shared home burning him up inside. He knew he had to say something to you about this whole ordeal, but how could he? He was taking this life changing decision and ruining what you two had perfectly here. But you two could survive right? Or was that the right decision overall? Was prolonging you two the right decision?
It all came down to the day he had to leave. Helping him pack the last of his necessities into his very packed suitcases which had been neatly placed upon your shared bed.
“I completely forgot to ask, how’re you getting to the airport?”
“Bakugou and Midoriya are dropping me off.”
Oh. You had hoped you could get those final moments of couples bliss before he left, but you couldn’t not indulge in having the two young heroes watch in jealousy of you and your boyfriend.
“Can I come? See you off before you leave?”
Your tone was so bittersweet. Not really wanting to see him leave into the airport gates.
“Of course you can.” Todoroki zipped up his final case before pressing a chaste kiss upon your forehead, lingering for a moment to then head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for you both.
The familiar ring of Todoroki’s phone signified that Bakugou and Midoriya were outside. Bakugou had convinced Kirishima to drive them to the airport (which he did not appreciate as it was far too early for him) and he was the one to head up to help Todoroki with his cases.
“I’ll get that for you Y/N, no worries.” His toothy grin glimmered to you as he picked up the heavy case with ease. It must be fun being a pro-hero.
The ride to the airport was sweet, despite being squashed in the back with Bakugou and Todoroki. It was mostly filled with inside jokes between the four boys and Bakugou screaming for the aux cord because ‘Shitty hair’s music is shitty’. You’d miss the small moments like these.
After checking the three men and their bags to the plane, Todoroki and you parted from the group to have a few last moments together before it would only be facetimes and snapchat stories in seeing each other’s lives.
“Y/N you know this will be difficult right?”
“I know, but I’ve planned everything out! We’re gonna be fine.”
“I’m going to be so busy though, I’ll barely have time for calls and I’ll be so tired at the end of my day and-“
“That’s why when we do call, it’ll be so much more special! We have date nights planned and-“
“Y/N, look I just don’t think I want to push this.”
You could have almost spat your coffee out at his interruption. He wasn’t even looking at you, springing this up on you in your last moments before not seeing him for 6 whole months.
“Wh-what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that… I don’t know, maybe you should see other people. I just don’t think- with how busy I am-it willon’t work.”
You hadn’t even realised you were crying. Your glare towards him basically begging for him to look you in the eyes. Coward.
“So you won’t even try?”
“I just don’t see the point-“
“The point in us?” The daggers in your voice finally made him look up at you, the snivelling mess he had made you into. He had gotten your hopes up that it would work, that you’d still be there for him and support him. “Have fun on your tour Todoroki.”
You left your coffee half drunk, not even wanting the takeaway cup with his name on it. It wasn’t worth your time.
“Hey Kirishima could I have the keys to your car? I just wanna sit down for a bit.” Your eyes were practically glued to the floor, as a means to not show him that you were seconds from fully breaking down.
“Sure, but, aren’t you gonna say goodbye to Sho?” He reluctantly pulled his keys out from his sweatpants pocket, dangling them in front of you in hopes that he could see your expression.
“He just did.” You try your best not to snatch them from him but your attempt fails. You just wanted to be out of there. Even pushing past Bakugou and Midoriya to exit the building and sit alone with your thoughts.
Selfish bastard. If he’d been thinking about this for so long why not just break up with you when he first told you? Why wait so fucking long for him to just break your heart when you did so much to salvage anything if things got bad? You hit your hand on the steering wheel so hard that the horn beeps and you sob more from the fright. You must’ve looked insane.
Kirishima arrived back at his car about 10 minutes later. Sliding out from the driver’s position to the passenger seat silently, you had at least cleaned yourself up a bit in the thought of knowing that he would soon be back.
“So, he told me.” Kirishima breaks the silence. Hands gripping the wheel with a nervous intent. Knowing it’s a very touchy subject.
“Yeah?”
“It’s gonna be fine y’know? At least he’s not like in your face or anything or you can’t awkwardly bump into him in the street.” His attempts to pick up the mood fall on deaf ears.
“He didn’t have to drag me along for the ride though.” Your tears slide down your face and pool on your neck, not even having the strength within you to wipe them away.
“Well we’re all here for you no matter what Y/N-“
“Can I go to yours for a bit? I know it’s early I just… don’t want to go back to the flat just yet.”
“Course you can.”
-
Staying at Kirishima’s became a regular thing. Not really being able to confine yourself to the four walls of the apartment you used to share with Shoto.
He’d let you sleep in his spare room, his gym equipment keeping you company in the night. It was a fine arrangement. Kirishima was always so nice to you when you were with Todoroki, and since your abrupt breakup; you had an inkling that Kirishima wasn’t on the best of terms with him anymore.
The barren walls and blankets kept you safe from old memories, but your mind followed through with the nightmares.
Your body shook from the antagonising scowl upon Todoroki’s face, it was terrifying but mostly upsetting. You couldn’t help but sob yourself awake. Your pillow a wet mess and your throat dry from screaming.
“Y/N?”
Kirishima stood in your doorway, the light from the hallway pooling around him and the sympathetic gaze in his tired eyes.
“Nightmares?”
You nodded, sitting yourself up in bed and wiping the wet from your cheeks. Kirishima sat on the edge of your bed, rubbing your leg comfortingly over the duvet.
“Do you need anything?” The tired croak in his voice broke your heart further. You felt like such a burden.
“No I’m okay; thank you.” With a small smile, Kirishima got up to go back to bed before you intervened. “Wait- will you stay with me?”
There’s a small glimmer of confusion that passes over Kirishima’s face, but in the end he accepts. You’d known each other for many years and had many sleepovers in each other's dorms that this was nothing new.
Taking off his dressing gown, Kirishima was dressed in a slightly ripped top of his own ‘Red Riot’ merch and loose-fitting boxers. It took you a few moments to drink him in, this really was the most intimate you’d ever seen him.
And that’s how it went for 5 months, just you and Kirishima periodically sleeping in each other's beds to just be with each other. Nothing explicit or sexual, just sometimes touching feet or waking up near enough in each other’s arms.
Until 2 weeks before Deku, Bakugou and Todoroki were meant to come home.
Whether it was the heat of the night or just an off day from not having been intimate for so long you couldn’t help but just need someone to touch you so badly. Thankfully Kirishima was in his room so you at least had some alone time to run your fingers against your slick folds, fingers sopping wet from just how aroused you actually were.
It was infuriating about how you could barely get yourself off, and stifling your moans with a weak lip bite was getting you absolutely nowhere. You knew how thin Kirishima’s walls could be from that night he brought a girl home once. You barely got a lick of sleep just from the noise… or from the slight twinge of jealousy.
Because it had become such a norm to you both, you hadn’t even noticed Kirishima enter your room with your eyelids pressed shut trying to picture any sort of scenario to get the edge off. So when you felt him tugging at your covers; your whole body turned to ice.
“Kiri wait-“
But it was far too late. He had no choice but to see the bottom half of you completely naked and drenched in your own slick.
“Oh fuck Y/N- I-I’m so sorry look I’ll go I should’ve knocked- fuck I’m sorry.” Even in the darkness of your room you could clearly see the blush on his face as if it was illuminative. You also couldn’t peel your eyes away from the rising tent in his sweatpants. You could’ve licked your lips at the sight.
“It’s alright- I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner.” You tried your best to catch your breath, with no real success as your tone was so ragged. You covered yourself up and place your hands on top of your covers; allowing for some form of minor stimulation to yourself without Kirishima noticing.
“D-Do you want me to help?” He sounded so innocent but the way he licked his lips sent chills to your spine. Could you really sleep with your best friend?
“I-I don’t know, but- you obviously need some help yourself.” You do your best to joke about the awkward situation, something that was rather natural for your friendship. Kirishima couldn’t help but slyly place his hands over his crotch despite you already noticing the dark grey patch of pre-cum staining the fabric.
“Well… we could just… masturbate together?” The thought hung in the air for a brief moment as it washed over the both of you, Kirishima gulping as the silence lasted longer than expected.
“Okay…” Your tone was hesitant but he could tell by how dilated your pupils were that this would probably be something neither of the two of you would mention in the morning. He’d be okay with that… maybe. Maybe not.
Sliding to his usual side of the bed, he leaned against the headboard and you sat yourself up a bit further. Pulling the covers to the side so everything was fully out in the open again. You could hear Kirishima hiss between his teeth at the sight of you even more drenched at the thought of you two doing this together. You watched with the same anticipation as him as he pulled his sweatpants down to let his cock spring free. The sight of it so red and flush couldn’t stop your hand from sliding back down to your heat.
Seeing the two of you like this was enough to get you both off, the room was filled with an air of silence but it wasn’t heavy. No, it was littered with the soft moans of you and your best friend.
Your eyes traced each other’s bodies as if you needed to discover every inch of each other with just your eyes. You’d seen Kirishima without his shirt many timesa time but you could practically beg for it just to see the way his muscles move as he pumped his cock. Kirishima gave you the same attentive look as he studied the way your fingers slid in and out of yourself.
After a few minutes of pleasure filled and moan ridden ecstasy; your hand began to cramp and the frustration of still not being able to get yourself off had tears streaming down your face.
“Fuck Kiri-“ You whined, hearing his name come out of your mouth was a sinful kiss to his ears. He wanted to hear it all the time.
“Yeah, me too princess.” He sounded so low it was basically a grunt of a sentence. “Do you want me to-?”
“Please.” He didn’t have to wait, you lifted away your tired hand from yourself and he slid along the bed to run his fingers up your slit. Just the feeling of another person touching you so intimately was enough to release the tension from your sore head, the scream released from your throat could’ve made him come undone right then and there.
“Just like that baby?” Kirishima’s calloused fingers danced delicately along your folds, squeezing ever so gently at your clit making your back arch. Your hand drifted along his midriff until it found the way to the bottom of his cock. He hissed at the feeling of your hand around him and his fingers stuttered against your core.
“Please, mmmf… need you in me.” You managed to choke out. Kirishima didn’t need another sign as he plunged two fingers into your wet self. He set his hand just above your head, leaning down on you as you fisted his member at the same rate he thrusted his fingers in and out of you.
You both silently knew that it’d be too weird if you two actually had sex. You were just helping each other in a time of need.
Kirishima pressed his knuckles down on the spongy part of your insides, making your hand falter aagainst him before finding your way to pick up your pace again.
“Fuck fuck, Y/N- I’m so fucking close.” Kirishima forced the words out of his mouth as he watched you writhe in pleasure underneath him.
“Me too Kiri oh fuck-“ You could feel the coil tightening within you ready to burst and you felt him twitch beneath your hand.
“Fucking hell fuck Y/N I lo-.” The sound of him moaning as he came into your hand and parts of your stomach drowned out his sentence and the way he curled his fingers while inside of you was enough to also tip you over the edge, grabbing his shoulder with your free hand for a reason to ground you to reality.
Catching your breath, Kirishima slid away from above you. The reality of the situation almost settling in for the two of you. He lifted the waistband of his sweatpants up before pressing a chaste kiss on your head. He wished he would have lingered longer.
“I’ll get something to help you clean up.” He returned with two hot flannels, rubbing wherever his come had landed on you and using the other to wipe any sweat or where your slick had coated your thighs.
“Thank you Kirishima.” Your throat croaked from the pleasure of it all, Kirishima couldn’t help but give a short chuckle as he crawled into bed with you after throwing the flannels in the washing machine.
“I should be thanking you too.”
With that you both fell asleep, a little closer to each other than usual. But, what was he going to say before he got interrupted? You didn’t have time to think of that now.
-
Within two weeks, you and Kirishima had become a lot closer after your little ‘sexual altercation’. Your social media was flooded with photos of you and him going out to eat and going to the movies together and just dumb stuff you’d do at his apartment. So after 6 months of living on and off together; you two decided that you’d officially become roommates. Not a couple just… roommates.
“You gonna need any help or anything?” Kirishima smiled as you opened the door to your old apartment you used to share with Todoroki. Thankfully for the last time.
“Just go to work silly. I'm just grabbing the last of my stuff. It's nothing big, just clothes and ornaments.” You waver him off with a shake of your hand. “You gotta head to work and finish that paperwork.”
That earned a groan from him.
“I’d rather be manly and helpful to you.” He leaned his arm against the doorframe as you unlocked the door.
“Yeah? Well you can go and be manly and helpful to the public, I’ll see you later Kiri.” You smirk, he rolls his eyes. You parted with a small hug and you began to get started to clean up the final things in your old apartment with Todoroki.
It looked almost barren now, you didn’t realise how much of you was in this house and not him. He was always reserved, unlike Kirishima. Even though it was never a fully agreed upon thing that you were living with Kiri as you’d come back to this old house for most of the week- it didn’t feel like home. But it did with Kirishima.
You placed old bedcovers and old clothes into a cardboard box, humming to yourself at the glee of not being alone in the birdcage of your ex. You didn’t even hear the keys go in the door. It wasn’t until you were exiting your old shared bedroom with the box in hand did you notice him. You couldn’t help but drop the box as there was Todoroki, unchanged from the day he left you at that airport cafe.
“Y/N?”
“I was just leaving.”
“Leaving where? Where’ve all your things gone?” He couldn’t not help but notice your decorum missing, it brought life into the modern studio apartment.
“I don’t live here anymore Todoroki. I’m just getting my things and going home.” You attempt to save yourself the embarrassment of already dropping the box by spitting back with venom.
The look of confusion on the bicoloured man’s face was evident. You had no time to play his games.
“I live with Kirishima, I’m getting the last of my things. I didn’t even realise you’d be home today.” You sigh. Though, maybe you subconsciously did. Maybe you knew that he’d be home today and that’s why you decided today was the day you’d get the rest of your things.
“I thought you were getting a bit close.” Todoroki grumbled under his breath, but he knew you heard him. “Always on dates together, always at his house.”
The loud ‘hah’ you let out of your mouth was a jutter in the conversation, Todoroki was obviously taken aback.
“What’s it even to you? Why should you give a shit about my life when you just up and disappeared for 6 months on your own volition huh?” You spat despite your whole body shaking, you couldn’t have missed him right? “You left me alone even when I supported you, did all that shit to make sure we’d stay in contact and now you have the nerve to be jealous?”
His eyes scanned your face before watching you intently, crossing the space between you to finally stand in front of you. You could smell his cologne, citrus and sharp. You’d forgotten how much you missed that smell.
“I didn’t know how much I’d missed you Y/N.” You could feel his breath fan your face catching your own ever so slightly. “I missed you so fucking much baby.”
“Todoroki-“
“Come on baby tell me you didn’t miss me too.” His voice was so soft and sweet to your ears, you couldn’t even stop him from leaning in so close to your face.
“I-“ But before you could speak his lips had encapsulated yours, the box in your hands losing grip.
God had you missed his lips upon yours, you sunk into the kiss as if you had never slept and he was the comfiest bed on earth. He pushed the box from your hands and it landed to the floor with a large thud, taking you by surprise. Yet despite you breaking the kiss from the surprise he swooped you back to having his lips against yours once again.
Kicking the cardboard from the separation of the two of you, Todoroki pulled you close. Taking you in his arms and furthering the kiss. He’d gotten more toned in the months that he’d been gone, your hands dancing over his muscles which were taught against his jumper.
“I should’ve never fucking left you baby girl.” He moaned against your lips, hand to the back of your neck as he drank you in. “Never. I missed you so fucking much.”
Sliding his hands from your neck to your lower back until he reached your thighs, Todoroki pulled you up and you gripped onto his waist as if it was clockwork. How could you have ever thought about anyone else but him? Todoroki walked with ease with you around him to your old bedroom, and when he lay you on your bed it didn’t feel so small anymore.
Buzz Buzz
“Fuck- Shoto my phone,” You whined as Todoroki left nipping kisses down your neck, you shifted beneath him to grab your phone from your back pocket to only see Kirishima’s name flash before you. You could feel Shoto’s heterochromic gaze as the photo of you and Kirishima lit up the screen.
“Answer it-“ Todoroki’s voice was a commanding growl and by the way he squeezed your breasts roughly you couldn’t help but coincide. “Answer it, but be quiet.”
With a gulp you shakily clicked to answer the call and put it on speaker as Todoroki began to slide down your jeans.
“Hey Y/N! Look I know this is out of the blue and I’m at work but- I can’t just stop thinking about us and you know… what we did.” Kirishima’s voice rang through the phone and you feel that Todoroki’s eyes could have pierced through you right then and there.
“But I just think you know with everything we’ve been through together- god this is so not manly asking over the phone but… do you wanna go on a date sometime? I’ll take you out somewhere nice and proper.”
Todoroki rolled his hips into your clothed core after taking off your jeans and a moan threatened to erupt from your throat. Sliding your underwear down his fingers pressed against your wetness and slid down before he bent his head down licking a strip against your sensitive clit. He knew your body like the back of his hand- you missed his gentle touch.
“And I know it might be weird because of Todoroki but he broke up with you so it’s understandable right?” Todoroki’s grip on your thigh became tighter as he lapped your pussy you thought that if you bit your lip any harder it would surely bleed. “I talked with Bakugou about it and he didn’t exactly give the best advice but… I like you… a lot Y/N.”
You couldn’t help but let out a whimpering moan as Todoroki slipped his tongue inside of you and moved in and out of you slowly, relishing the small moans you made.
“Y/N? Are you there? You okay?”
Todoroki’s hand left your thigh and he sat up, allowing for his bulge to once again grind against your core. You gasp at the friction of his jeans against your sensitive clit.
“Y/N? Hello? Please tell me you’re alright?”
With a swift grab of your phone and a hand pressed to your lips; Todoroki began to basically growl back at Kirishima.
“She’s busy.”
Making a scene of pressing the end call button, Todoroki through your phone to the carpeted floor where it thankfully didn’t smash.
“Shoto!”
“So you’ve been messing about with Kirishima, baby?” You whimper at his words as he harshly presses his bulge against you. “Also, didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”
He grasps your chin with his forefinger and his thumb, placing a gentle kiss against your lips before bringing his other hand and slapping your ass hard. You wail at the contact which only gives Todoroki a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
“It was only once Shoto I promise-“
“Shh shh shh, your filthy mouth needs to be quiet baby girl.” Todoroki leans up from you and begins to unbuckle his belt painfully slowly. His hand gestures afterwards as if telling you to finish disrobing yourself by yourself. “I should’ve never left you, no one else gets to know that this pretty little pussy is mine and mine alone. Got that princess?”
He brings his belt to slap against your thigh when you don’t give him a reply immediately, to which you soon nod your head.
“Let me hear your words baby girl.” His hands slide down to his boxers, jerking himself off as if to tease you as you couldn’t fully picture how he was fisting his cock right now.
“I’m yours Shoto, nobody else’s. Only ever yours.” You’re a whimpering mess and you try to cling to him desperately. He lets out a low chuckle before pulling his boxers fully down and letting his cock spring free.
Todoroki settles himself in between your legs, savouring a taste of your slick before angling his body back up so you were face to face, leaving wet kisses down your neck but biting at all the sweet spots he knew too well.
“Gonna mark you so that everybody knows that you belong to me.” His voice whispered against your skin, the tip of his member prodding against your folds; sliding up and down against you for some friction.
Shoto made his way back up from your nipples to your mouth before pressing his lips against you hungrily. He settled his hips neatly against yours and you instinctively wrapped your thighs around him as he pushed inside of you. Moaning into the kiss with each thrust until he completely bottomed out inside of you. You felt so full and right, you were Todoroki’s.
“God princess I forgot how much you felt like you were made for me.” Todoroki grunts as he begins to set a pace for himself, entangling his hands in your hair and tugging slightly so he has free reign over your neck for every bite and mark he saw fit. “Isn’t that right baby?”
“Yes- fuck me Shoto I’m all yours.” You dig your nails into his back, hard enough to leave marks tomorrow. Shoto starts pistoning his hips into you and you both can’t help but groan at the friction of your two bodies melding together.
Shoto slides his hand up your body until he reached the small of your back, arching you at a deeper angle into him as he fucked you directly into the bed. The sound it made only added to the erotic symphony of your bedroom combined with your moans and the wet skin slapping together. You fist your hands into the sheets in fear of clawing Todoroki’s back any more and you swore you could’ve torn the covers.
“Does that feel good princess? Am I the only one who knows how to make you feel as good as this?” Todoroki’s laugh is almost sinister as he brings his right hand to your clit, making it drop in temperature just to see you squirm.
“You make me feel so fucking good Shoto- so full I only want you- I only need you. Fuck I’m gonna-“
“You gonna come for me princess? Gonna come all around my cock? Good girl, come on come for me.” He whispered into your neck, feeling you tighten around him. Your back arched even further as you came undone around him, pushing himself even further into you to feel you convulse against his cock.
“Shit Y/N!” He groans, absolutely exasperated as he comes inside of you. Letting hot spurts of come dribble out from your pussy. His hands slide from your sides and into your hands as intertwines your fingers together. Shoto catches his breath, his bicoloured hair stuck to his forehead with sweat as he leans into your chest- the two of your synchronising your breathing together.
“Did you miss that my baby? Miss me taking care of you like that?” Todoroki showers your fluttering body with kisses as he pulls himself out of you. Your heart raced but also the pang of guilt was there from the phone call from Kirishima.
“I missed you Sho.”
Todoroki took care of your heavily bruised body, apologising for the bruises upon your waist where he gripped you too tightly and covering you up tightly into your old bedsheets to lay together just like the old days.
However Kirishima was just glad he had a lock on his office door. He gripped his phone tightly in his hands after hearing your orgasm brought him to his own. The pretty profanities that fell out your mouth drove him insane. He’d have to seriously clean himself up after jacking off to your explicit moans from over the phone. Did Todoroki mean to hang up? He didn’t care right now, he just cared about good he could still make you feel.
He was going to make you his. Todoroki or not.
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