#glare at him with a slight scowl and tiny lip pout (the very one that drives him insane) telling him that he can't touch you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

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

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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kiridarling · 4 years

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𝔽𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: fem!reader, top!kats though some switchy themes, competitive sex, enemies to lovers, daddy kink, begging, blowjobs, no quirks

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 3.3k

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨:

Katsuki Bakugou is the textbook definition of a brat.

It’s always been easy for you to get straight A’s—you’re a fast learner and a creative problem solver, solidifying your spot at the top of the class, the number one. You switch schools just to find someone equally as bratty and merciless as you and burn to do nothing but shove him off his cocky pedestal.

But. A brat doesn’t go down with a fight, and boy oh boy, is Katsuki Bakugou bratty.

OR; Where Katsuki loves to get under your skin, so you shut him up with a kiss.

—ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀɴ 𝟷𝟾+ ʙʟᴏɢ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

“Katsuki, Y/N, please stay after class.”

The murmurs from the class only heighten the suspense as you eye the bane of your existence standing next to you. With explosive ash-blond hair and foxy red eyes to match, you’ve never met someone else so annoying.

Either way, your shirt and apron are soaked to the bone, and you hope Katsuki burns under your glare through the plastic of the safety goggles.

“And Y/N?” Your teacher says exasperatedly, “Please change your shirt.”

You look down to reveal your shirt is nothing but see-through, though the apron helps cover your most indecent parts.

When you return from the bathroom, opting for the gym shirt you were planning to bring home to wash anyway, Katsuki’s the only one left in the classroom, a permanent scowl on his face while sweeping up the glass from you two’s little lab fiasco that wound you here in the goddamn first place.

He only stops once he realizes you aren’t going to help clean up, feet propped up on the desk in front of you as you scroll through your Twitter feed. Ooh, it looks like Hawks has a ne—

Your thought process tire-screeches when your phone is rudely snatched out of your hand. You pout, grabbing for your phone—but unfortunately for you, Katsuki’s too fucking tall.

“Hey! Give it back, you asshole!”

There’s no use in jumping, so you opt for balancing on your desk instead to pluck it out of his hands—though something tells you he let you grab it. “Dick.”

“Get to fuckin’ work,” Katsuki grumbles with an unusual taciturn-ness. “I don’t wanna be here longer than I gotta be.”

“Then be quick, pretty boy.” Now that you have your entertainment device again, it’s much easier to ignore his presence. “Chop chop.”

“Funny that you thought your dumbass was getting out of this,” Katsuki grouses before shoving the broom he was using into your chest. “I got the fuckin’ tables, just sweep. You can do that much, can’t you?”

Rolling your eyes, you snatch the broom from him and debate beating him in the back with it. “Whatever, smartass.”

Katsuki Bakugou is the textbook definition of a brat.

But. A brat doesn’t go down with a fight, and boy oh boy, is Katsuki Bakugou bratty.

Katsuki’s whistling. It’s on purpose—to annoy you specifically, just because you know he likes to get under your skin, and he knows how easy it is for him to do it. And you find yourself falling for his bullshit every. Fucking. Time.

“Can you shut up?”

A satisfied smirk creeps across Katsuki’s face when you finally crack. “No.”

You assumed as much. Sighing, you pray Katsuki’s high-pitched mouth noises will fade into the background if you focus on sweeping up the glass that isn’t there anymore.

He doesn’t.

“Shut. Up.” Katsuki’s a shitty whistler. His lips are too dry, and it’s mostly just fucking air, but he insists anyways, walking your way with his hands tucked and lips pursed, blowing his disgusting breath your way.

So naturally, you kiss him. To shut him up.

Though you think you might’ve broken him because he pulls back with this semi-dazed look on his face before blinking towards his feet. Your eyes follow.

No. Fucking. Way.

“You’re hard,” you say as a simple matter of fact at first, letting it sink it. Katsuki’s like, full mast, beanpole hard, and you find yourself cackling at the revelation more than you should. “You—really hard holy shit, you fu—”

“If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth…” Katsuki growls, fists clenching at his sides. His face is nothing short of beet red and shaking with so much embarrassment; you can’t help but feel a little bit bad. “I haven’t...had fuckin’ time, okay—stop lookin—”

“Awe, you don’t have to be ashamed.” You giggle, waving him off in favor of exfoliating the floor with the broom again. He’s hard. He’s hard, and you did it—Nah, you’re chilling. Not freaking out. “Katsuki Bakugou is a bottom. There’s no shame in that.”

“Oi,” Katsuki growls, hands curling into fists. “I might be hard, but I’m no goddamn bottom.”

You snort, unashamed (okay, a little bit, but he doesn’t have to know) in the way you rake your eyes up and down his body before saying. “Sure, uh-huh. Which is exactly why you’re stiffer than a board from an argument and one kiss. ”

“Two words, brat. Pent up,” Katsuki dares to step closer with that patronizing tone, lips dangerously close to where they were before.

“Liar,” you bravely challenge, sticking your chest out. You’ve never been one to go down without a fight.

Katsuki only seems to burn brighter at this, snatching you by the jaw for a firm peck. You snort in response.

“Not a fuckin’ bottom,” Katsuki growls into your mouth. As if that kiss really made a difference.

“Yeah?” You’re a little breathy, but from the way you’re pressed up against the desk, it’s a bit hard not to be. “Prove it, then.”

Katsuki makes a sound akin to a moan before his big hands are around your waist, twirling you around until your hands are pressed against the desk, ass out in the open for Katsuki to do whatever he pleases. To say you dislike this position would be a lie, but you stick by it anyway, even when he flips up your skirt to deliver a firm slap on the ass.

“Ow, you dick!” You whip your head around and glare his way with fury, but he seems to pay no mind, mouth dipping to nip at your shoulder.

“Oh, it’s not that bad, brat. Stop fuckin’ complain’.”

You shut up, but only because his hand lands on your ass again, a hot sting bursting from his palm. You shiver.

“This isn’t fa—fuck.” He shoves two fingers in your tight pussy, completely freezing your train of thought in favor of fooling with that sensitive spot in between your legs.

Katsuki laughs lowly as you struggle to hold yourself back. In your defense, you happen to be a bit pent up yourself, and Katsuki’s unnecessarily skilled with just two fingers, pumping and curling until he hits that sweet spot that makes your legs quiver.

“What was that, brat?”

“You’re a fucking dick,” you turn to spit, though you doubt the blush on your face is working in your favor. Either way, Katsuki isn’t having it, and his face hardens as his hand cracks down on your ass again. This time it jolts the table.

“Y’know what?” You hear Katsuki say behind you and the warmth his hands leave only for the sound of a belt buckle to ring in the room. “I’m gonna put that big ass mouth of yours to good use. Turn the fuck around.”

You don’t fucking know why you listen, but you do.

“On your knees.”

With a slight sigh, your knees kiss the cool classroom floor. It’s slightly uncomfortable, and your knees have never been the greatest, but you might as well get this o—

Holy shit. He’s hung.

“Big, isn’t it?” Katsuki says with a grin, fist working the head of his cock as he enjoys the view of you on your knees. “Now suck, slut.”

With a roll of your eyes, you lick from the base to the tip, loving the way that cocky grin slips off his face a bit. You repeat the action a few more times, loving the way he shivers until he gets impatient. Then you swallow as much as you can.

“Fuck,” Katsuki’s chokes out moan is much more attractive than you anticipated, sending electric shivers down your spine. Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, you pump what you can’t fit in your mouth, and his grip on the desk tightens.

“Shit—look at you, taking me so goddamn—s-so goddamn well.” He curls over you to say, knuckles stark white and bending the wood of the desk. You know he’s about to crack, but that only propels your determination further, your free hand reaching to grab him by the balls.

Katsuki lets out nothing short of a moan at that, causing you to open your eyes to a very, very pretty sight. A strawberry-faced Katsuki Bakugou with his ash-blond eyebrows knit, pretty pink lip tucked underneath his front two teeth. You moan, and he shivers, and you’ve never found it so hard to disguise a shit-eating grin while sucking dick.

But despite your unrelenting gaze, you seem to miss the hand snaking from the desk to underneath your chin, Katsuki’s thumb and index squeezing your cheeks around his cock and ultimately making your job harder. You suppress an indignant growl when he hits the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes.

“I’m gonna cum down your throat,” Katsuki rasps, voice noticeably wrecked. He needs to take a moment to lick his lips—the apex between your thighs likes the sight of that very much. “And you’re going to swallow every—fuck—goddamn drop. Got it?”

You moan in response, eyelids fluttering. Katsuki lets out a breathy moan at that, the hand around your jaw tightening before his hips stutter with a gasp.

“C-Cummi—”

Katsuki spills down your throat with a broken moan, eyes glued on your spluttering figure because he comes a lot. But you swallow it all, licking whatever mess you didn’t catch off your fingers—the ash-blond watches it all with a satisfied hum.

“Good girl.”

You shiver.

“C’mon. Up.” Though you don’t expect him to, he helps you onto your unsteady feet. Your hands feel tiny in his calloused palms, fragile, and in a flash, your hands are back on the table, and those calloused palms are caressing the tender swell of your ass.

Katsuki swipes a finger down your slit, chuckling at the whimper you fail to hide.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he groans, dipping his nose into your neck as his body encompasses your own. “And it’s all for me, isn’t it, brat?”

You earn a slap on the ass when you don’t respond, but in your defense, Katsuki’s rubbing messy little circles on your clit, and it’s getting you more riled up than it should. A breathy “yeah” is all you manage to squeak out, rendering the second spank unfair.

“Try again, brat.”

The difference in pet names makes your head spinning the best way. Your chest shudders with an exhale, body strung tight from being suspended in lust for so long. “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

You know it’s the answer Katsuki’s looking for when his chest rumbles against your spine, and the hand between your legs speeds up. He stuffs two fingers in your pussy and coos when you moan at the white-hot gunshot of pleasure and keel over, head hung between your shoulders as you let him do whatever he damn well pleases.

“Good fuckin’ brat, takin’ my fingers so goddamn well,” Katsuki grunts, and you imagine his eyebrows just as tightly knit as before. “Gotta get you nice and ready for my cock. Can’t wreck your pretty pussy from just a few thrusts, can I?”

And fuck, aren’t you wrecked enough?

“Shit,” you choke when Katsuki’s fingers curl, so like the asshole he is, he does it again. And again, until your thighs are numb and you’re sure you’ve made a proper mess all over his hands. Patience wearing thin, you snap.

“The hell are you waiting for?”

You loathe the way you sound too far gone to be complaining, bent over in an empty classroom with your sworn enemy knuckle-deep in your pussy, but the fact that he’s not balls deep feels like the most urgent issue out of the two.

“Depends,” Katsuki jeers, fingers jabbing at the ever-tightening knot growing in the pit of your stomach. “Whaddya want?”

“What?” You laugh in your confused arousal.

“What,” he repeats, sharper this time, “do you want?”

It takes a second for it to click. Oh. Oh, Katsuki’s asking for consent.

That’s...that’s actually kind of cute.

But you don’t have the time to analyze the heat blooming in your chest because your mouth moves much quicker than your brain does. “Your fuckin—fuck me, you stupid a—”

You yelp when you’re flipped onto the table. Katsuki yanks your thighs apart like you’re his next meal, pink tongue wetting his bottom lip with burning red eyes trained on all of you. The look he gives you is uncharacteristically soft, hypnotized from following the dips and curves of your body, and you don’t like how it makes you feel.

“Condom, idiot.”

Katsuki blinks himself out of his strange trance, looking your way for a second before huffing, disappearing for a moment to (hopefully) grab one from his bag. “I was gonna anyway, dumbass. Geez.”

You snort at his petulance, but every drop of your ego evaporates when the ash-blond reappears, pumping his thick cock with a blue plastic square held between his teeth. Even though you saw it less than fifteen minutes ago, his cock is nothing short of pretty, and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his head looks in his fist.

“Like what you see?” Katsuki’s eyes are on you, eyebrow raised, and tone is cocky, and it’s annoying to think you caused such a reaction. You look away with a huff.

“Just get on with it.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue, finally rolling the rubber on. You shiver the moment the head of his cock kisses your entrance, and he firmly snatches your chin to make sure your eyes are on him.

“I’m gonna fuck the brat outta you,” he growls, yet somehow you have the gut to smile right back.

“Bold statement, you laz—fuck!”

Katsuki’s balls deep in one thrust. You squeal, and he bites his lip, both pairs of eyes trained on where you two are connected. He doesn’t dare move again, thank God.

“Asshole,” you grumble, eyes glaring daggers at the man towering over you. Katsuki scowls.

“Y’know, you’re awfully bold for someone so full of cock,” he pants, bracing both hands on the edges of the table behind your head. You open your mouth to bite back because you aren’t one to go down without a fight, but the moment Katsuki’s hips buck? All thoughts fly out the window.

“Tight,” Katsuki whimpers behind a bitten lip, “You—Y/N—you’re really fucki—shit.”

You laugh at his mottled sentence, but you’d be lying if you said you were doing any better. You feel both pleasantly full and unbearably horny, the weight of his rocking hips jolting both you and the table. Katsuki seems focused, eyes set and face twisted in concentration.

“Good,” he grunts. At first, you think he’s telling you, but the silent plea behind his eyes tells a different story.

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, shuddering when he hits that spot. “Really good.”

That’s the spur on the horse, and Katsuki readjusts his grip before pistoning into you, tilting your hips off the desk for a better angle. And boy, is it a better angle.

The dam in your gut is terribly close to bursting, and you want—no, need it to, so you reach in between your legs to mess with your clit before Katsuki slaps it away. You whimper uselessly, moaning the second he replaces the vacancy with a finger of his own.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t ya, brat?” Katsuki moans, applying more pressure on your clit just to make you squirm. “You gonna cum? Gonna fuckin’ cum all over my cock like the dirty little girl you are?”

His words send a shiver of pure ecstasy up your spine, and you nod fervently, the desk creaking under both of your weight. “Y-Yea—yeah, I’m gonna—”

Katsuki stills.

He fucking stills.

As you suppress the urge to scream, Katsuki lands a fat slap to the top of your pussy, clit throbbing upon impact. Asshole.

“Then beg.”

You whine, though you’re not sure if it’s from his voice or the twitch of his cock. Beg? Oh, your dignity is really taking a hit today.

After clearing your throat and shifting uncomfortably, you take a shot in the dark, “Please uh, fuck me?”

Katsuki clicks his tongue, and though the thumb on your clit starts to move ever so slightly, it’s surely not enough.

“Try again, brat. C’mon,” Katsuki’s hips jostle to give you a bit of an incentive. “I know you can do better than that.”

“M-Make me cum.” You retry, firmer this time though your face is beet red, “Please.”

The look on Katsuki’s face is indiscernible as he blinks down at your trembling figure, long enough to make you squirm under his gaze. Then the familiarly annoying sly smile returns.

“Good,” is all Katsuki says before his hips return to life, and he drives into you with everything he has, quickly bringing you closer to the edge than you were before. “Good fuckin’ brat, takin’ me so goddamn well.”

You moan, grabbing for his big shoulders as you scramble for something to hold onto. Adrenaline rushes your veins, and though you know you need one more thing to finally push you off the edge, you don’t know what that thing i—

“Cum with me,” Katsuki pants into your ear, eyes fluttering when your pussy spasms, “Fuckin—make a fuckin’ mess, all over m—”

But you don’t hear much after that because your orgasm rips through your body, hearing ducking and eyes squeezing shut as the tremors wrack through your body. Katsuki’s completion is marked by the stutter of his hips followed by a breathy moan and a grunt before he collapses on top of you—both of you wholly spent.

When he peels his body off of you, you’re sure you look no more spent than he does. Katsuki’s all rosy-cheeked and glossy with sweat, ash-blond hair a hot mess as he slides into the chair to catch his breath. You do the same, limp as a noodle as you stare at the ceiling.

“So,” you say, killing the silence after a painful five-minute stretch. Katsuki looks at you from his blown-out gaze on the wall.

“So,” he responds uselessly. You sigh. What did you expect him to say? Ask you out on a date? In all the time you’ve known him, Katsuki’s never dated, let alone had a girlfriend. You don’t understand why you were awaiting something after that, either. It’s annoying.

After adjusting your uniform, you hop off the desk, ready to wallow in whatever self-inflicted misery you’ve built. Though your legs aren’t prepared, apparently, and you almost crumple underneath the weight.

You would’ve if Katsuki’s hands didn’t catch you by the waist.

“Careful,” he grunts, voice much too close to your ear for your liking. You pull away first.

“Thanks.” You nod, silently noting that he’s tucked his dick away and pulled his pants back on sometime in the five-minute silence. You didn’t notice.

The silence returns as you pick your bag up off the floor. Katsuki watches you, carmine eyes nearly pinning you in place. You push through the paralysis somehow, though, eyes taking a quick sweep before deeming the classroom cleaner than it was before trying your best to conceal your speed-walk to the exit. Should you say bye, or would that be weird?

“Oi.”

You freeze, hand on the cool metal knob, and so close to freedom. You have half a mind to slam the door open and sprint down the hall. You don’t, though. But you don’t look at him either.

“Y’know I don’t do this bullshit with anyone, right?”

And, shit. You think you may know what that means. But if you misunderstood, that’d be really awkward.

When you don’t respond, Katsuki keeps going with a heavy sigh. You hear him stand, but he doesn’t dare cross over. “I—goddammit. Fuck it, fuck it.”

Katsuki sounds like he’s hyping himself up more than anything else, and you hate to say you find it endearing. You pull your hand away from the doorknob. Maybe you’ll hear Katsuki out—you suppose can deal with his bratty attitude for a little bit longer.

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bnha smut #katsuki bakugo #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #y/n #xreader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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inkykeiji · 4 years

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day two ❅ cause i’m mrs. snow, til death we’ll be freezing

don’t cry snowman, don’t leave me this way, a puddle of water can’t hold me close, baby

day one ❅ day two ❅ day three | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: weeee yay day two!! touya + co go ice skating :) this, again, was not supposed to be as long as it is, but eh here we are!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), drug use, very rough sex, public sex, generally toxic relationships, size difference, tense family dynamics, reader’s probably a lil too obsessed with touya’s cum, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation

words: 8.3k

synopsis:

I’m only worried about you, you want to say. It isn’t your intention to put more stress on him, especially when being forced to spend nearly every waking minute around his blood siblings is evidently very difficult for him, but you don’t want him dead because of it, either.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

But he doesn’t need to hear you say it, he can feel it—in the air around you, radiating off your frame in thick waves that crash into him in the most pleasant way; in the way your soft fingertips stroke his cheeks, tracing his features with the utmost gentleness; in the way you gaze so tenderly at him, eyes sweeping across his face akin to the most compassionate caress.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

The wind howls gently, picking up swirls of snow and dusting it against the window, the snowflakes soft taptaptap’s echoing among the tiny bedroom. It’s grey but bright outside, the morning of December 22nd. Strands of hair stick to your cheeks and neck, chills erupting across your skin as you wiggle around beneath Touya’s heavy arm, laying across your waist in a loose grasp, your movements causing the blanket to slip from your clammy skin, a soft hiss spit through your teeth as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin. Touya’s got his head buried in the pillow, his torso laying half on top of yours, legs intertwined.

“Touya-nii,” you whimper, eyebrows furrowing a little in frustration as you struggle under him. “Niichan,”

“Mmph,” he emits an unintelligible noise in response, muffled by the pillow.

“Niichaaaaan,” the honorific leaves your lips in a whine, giving another weak shove at his arm. “Niichan, you’re so hot, I’m gonna melt,”

“Too bad. We’re not getting up yet,”

You whine again, your squirming becoming more vigorous. “But Touya-nii, I’m so thirsty! Please, my mouth is drier than the desert, I swear to God,”

“If you don’t stop acting like a brat, I’m gonna fuck you like a brat,”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

That gets his attention, fluffy head shooting up, white tufts tousled and standing on end, sleepy eyes squinting against the sudden light as he tries to glare at you. “Excuse me?”

The deep, rough lilt to his voice, heavy with sleep, makes your stomach flutter, blood rushing to your cheeks as you gaze at him.

Even in the morning, he’s stupidly beautiful.

“G-Got you up,” you giggle a little, reaching forward to run your fingers through his messy hair, smoothing it down in the process.

He deadpans, glaring at you for a moment, though there’s no heat in his eyes. You stare back, blinking twice, little fingers trailing down the side of his face and then tracing his jaw, murmuring about how pretty he is.

“Pretty, huh?” he finally sighs, a small grin spreading across his cheeks, head tilting to the side as your fingers travel down his neck, tracing the intricate black ink.

“Mm, very pretty,” you whisper to yourself, eyes zeroing in on his adams apple as it bobs with his chuckle. “But I’m still thirsty,”

He laughs again, rolling his eyes and pushing himself up completely, sheets pooling at his waist. “Fucking brat,”

It’s just past 9am, but the kitchen is empty. Touya carries you there, and even though you’re more than capable of walking by yourself, you snuggle into his neck, scattering gentle kisses across the scarred skin, head resting against his broad shoulder.

He exhales a sigh as you do so, and you can physically feel the tension leaving his body, a tiny bit more with each kiss you press against him.

A soft yelp hitches in your throat as he places you on the counter, cold marble stinging the bare skin of your thighs, Touya smirking at the sound as he wanders over to the fridge, rooting through it for a moment before turning back towards you.

“Water?” you make a face. Touya deadpans for the second time in fifteen minutes.

“You said you were thirsty, did you not?”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off shyly, hooking your ankles together and swinging your legs a little. “I wanted chocolate milk,”

“No,” he says instantly, slamming the fridge shut with more force than necessary, jars jiggling and clinking together with the motion. “Water first,” he uncaps the bottle and holds it out to you. “Don’t you dare start pouting,” he adds, when your eyebrows are beginning to knit together, voice stern. “You did not drag me out of bed at nine in the fucking morning because your mouth was drier than the desert just to pout when I give you water. You know you aren’t allowed sugar first thing in the morning, baby,”

You suppose he has a point, working hard to smooth your face as you take the bottle from him.

“M’sorry, niichan,” you murmur before taking a sip, gazing at him through your lashes.

He glares at you for another moment before a tiny grin breaks his face, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re really testing me this morning,” he mumbles as large hands pry your knees apart, wedging his hips between your thighs while hands curl around your hips and drag you towards the edge of the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist—an automatic reaction—ankles hooking again and holding him close, bodies pressed flush together.

Something’s still off, you can tell, evident in the way his head drops the moment you’re close enough, forehead resting against the crown of your head, exhaling.

“It’s not very nice, babygirl,” he speaks again after a beat of silence, calloused hands slipping under your—his, your mind reminds you—t-shirt, palming your hips. “Think you should make it up to me, hmm?”

And you want to, God, do you ever want to, want to kiss all of his sorrow away, want to pull those gorgeous broken whines and throaty moans from him, want to help him forget about whatever it is that’s bothering him so deeply, to lock it out of his head, shoving it from his mind as his brain is filled with thoughts of you. But…

“B-But niichan, we’re in the kitchen,” you have to force the trembling words from your mouth, biting down hard on your lip to keep from moaning as his teeth skim along your neck, evoking a full body shiver.

“So?” his lips brush against your skin, nimble fingers dipping into your cute pink panties.

“Anyone could—could come in any second and—”

“What? Catch us?” he pulls back a little, smirking. “And?” sapphire searches your face as heat rushes to your cheeks, rushes shamefully between your legs. He snorts a moment later, pressing two fingers against your clothed cunt. “Exactly,” the word is just a huff of breath as he nudges his nose against yours. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I—”

“Don’t try lying,” he sounds bored as he cuts you off, fingers rubbing at your little hole through the damp cotton of your panties. “Your pussy’s very honest,”

And the broken whine that hitches in your chest is nothing short of absolutely pathetic, back arching and eyes fluttering as he begins flicking his thumb over your clit, keeping his touches light and fast.

“Yeah,” he breathes, the word bordering on a growl. “Of course you would. Bet you could cum from just this if Natsuo were watching, huh? Want everyone to know how easy you are for niichan? How much of a good little slut you are for niichan?”

“You planning on testing that theory out?”

Natsuo’s unexpected voice makes you jump, eyes snapping open and flying to his face as you choke on a gasp, Touya’s thumb choosing then to press hard against your swollen little clit, forcing an embarrassingly loud cry from your lips and paying no mind to his younger brother, who’s leaning casually against the doorframe with a smirk decorating his face. In fact, Touya doesn’t react to Natsuo at all—

Because he already knew.

“N-Niichan,” you nearly wail, burying your scalding face in his shoulder, nails digging into the smooth muscles of his back.

“Aww,” Natsuo coos, and he sounds genuine. “C’mon, don’t hide from me, sweetheart,”

“What, now you’re shy? When you were about to get off on the very thought just moments ago?” Touya’s patronizing chuckle vibrates against you, though his hands are on your back, petting you in smooth, soothing motions.

“Niisan, don’t tease,” Natsuo laughs, and you smush your face harder against Touya’s shoulder, whimpering a little as Natsuo’s voice gets closer. “I just figured if you two were gonna have a cheeky lil fuck in the kitchen, the least you could do is let me watch,”

Touya begins laughing again, starts to say something, voice abruptly cutting off. You stiffen, clinging to him, breath bated as you listen.

“Surprised you two were the first ones up,” Fuyumi’s voice floats through the space, tone clipped.

You peak out from over Touya’s shoulder, watching as Fuyumi fiddles around with their extremely expensive coffeemaker, a deep scowl etched into her face.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Touya asks lightly, sounding genuinely surprised, innocently curious.

“You know why,” she snaps, slamming her coffee mug down on the granite countertop and whipping her head around to glare at her older brother.

Touya chuckles and shakes his head, maintaining that he doesn’t, he swears, and if you didn’t know any better, if you couldn’t see the smug smirk on his face, the mocking amusement swirling in his eyes, you’d believe him to be telling the truth.

But Fuyumi knows him better than that, rolling her eyes and grumbling unintelligibly under her breath. Shouto chooses then to enter the kitchen, hair slightly mussed, looking a little like a white and red haystack atop his head, and Touya’s body goes rigid.

He yawns out his morning greeting, glancing around the room, mismatched eyes lingering on your bare thighs for just a second too long.

Touya notices, because Touya notices everything—especially when it comes to Shouto, cobalt eyes sharp and trained on his every movement—moving to shield you with his body as best he can.

“C’mon princess,” he’s mumbling as his hands force their way under your ass, hefting you up again. “Let’s go,”

And no one misses the way Shouto watches the two of you leave, the way his sleepy eyes focus on your ass—just barely concealed by the cotton panties, Touya’s hands providing more coverage than the garment does—then move down to his brother’s shameless erection, partially obscured by your body, inhaling a sharp gasp that everyone hears, that everyone knows what it’s in reaction to, that everyone ignores.

❅ ❅ ❅

Today’s activity is ice skating, Rei tells you as your exiting the cabin.

She looks excited, a smile on her soft lips, eyes bright as she pats your shoulder, and it makes warmth flutter in your chest, glad to see the events of yesterday haven’t completely dampened her mood.

“Do you know how to skate?” Natsuo asks you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

“I do,” you say proudly, looking over at Rei as you reach Touya’s car, sharing a grin. “Rei taught me not long after she and my father started dating,”

“Aw, mom,” Natsuo coos, looking over at his mother for reassurance. “That’s sweet,”

Rei hums, nodding as her eyes drift back to yours.

“Hold on a second,” she says as her smile slowly begins to dissipate, glancing from Touya’s hand on the handle of his car’s passenger door, to your face, to Natsuo standing by his own car a few feet away, brows knitting.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in the car?” his response comes out as a question, spoken slowly as he’s worried it’s the wrong answer, tilting his head a little like a puppy.

“There’s no need for you to take more than one car,” Rei says pointedly, her gaze darting to Touya, holding his eyes even though she was speaking to Natsuo. His mouth falls open to protest, but she continues. “The five of you will fit in one. We’ll see you there,”

Her tone is final as she turns away and gets into her own car, the five of you watching in silence as it reverses onto the road, snow and ice cracking and popping under the thick tires. Natsuo turns back to the group, a large, boyish smile on his face.

“It’s fine! We’ll take my car,” Natsuo’s eyes soften a little as he looks over at his silver Porsche, patting the roof affectionately.

“No,” Fuyumi responds immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Stone eyes fly back to her face, alarmed. “What! Why?”

“Because you drive like a lunatic—I refuse to ride in any car when you’re behind the wheel,”

Natsuo frowns as he rounds his car, coming to stand with the group. “Well your car isn’t here, since you came up with mom, so—”

“We can take Touya’s car,”

“No,” Touya nearly growls, the unexpected rumbling deep in his chest causing everyone to flinch.

“Why not?” Fuyumi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as she glances at her older brother. “I can’t think of any reason—”

“He is not stepping foot in my fucking car,”

Fuyumi’s eyes widen slightly, staring at him in disbelief, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding, or are you really that stupid?”

“Touya-nii,” you gasp softly, tugging on his arm a little and then hugging it to your chest. His voice drips with venom, sharper than a tungsten needle, and it makes both you and Natsuo wince, despite not being the object of his fury.

“Fine, Christ, I just won’t come then,” Shouto finally chimes in with a roll of his eyes. “Will that make you happy?”

Touya whirls around to face him, rips his arm from your grasp so aggressively, so suddenly, that it sends you stumbling backwards. Natsuo catches you quickly, righting you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“You wanna know what would make me happy? You fucking de—”

“That’s enough,” Fuyumi cuts him off with a glare so fierce it sends chills skittering across your skin, regardless of the thick sweaterdress and heavy jacket you’re currently wrapped up in. Natsuo must feel it course through your body, because he pulls you tighter against him, fingers digging into your shoulder.

Touya’s eyes snap to his sister, raising an eyebrow as a terrifying smile spreads across his face. It’s a smile you’ve only seen a few times before, gleaming white teeth on display, angular jaw clenched tightly. It’s a smile that makes icy dread pool in your stomach, thick and heavy, and you try to press yourself closer to Natsuo, body flush against his side, partially hiding your face in his chest.

Still, Fuyumi does not waver. “You are an adult, Touya. For God’s sake, act like one! Shouto is not a disease—”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

“—that will infect your car! He’s your baby brother!”

Touya’s eye twitches at the term, painful smile stretching even wider. In the pale afternoon sunlight, those glinting white teeth look pointier than normal, and you whimper into Natsuo’s chest.

“My car, my rules,”

“Oh my God! Are you being ser—”

“Alright, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Natsuo jumps in quickly, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re scaring our little princess, niisan,” he says, voice softer, a large hand rubbing your shoulder in comfort.

Touya spins around again, wild sapphire eyes finding yours, his face falling the moment your gazes meet.

Little fingers have tangled themselves in Natsuo’s jacket, clinging to him so hard the skin over your knuckles is stretched taut. Your entire body trembles as you blink hard, trying in vain to clear the tears rushing to your eyes. The pounding of your heart echoes in your ears, so loud you can’t hear what Touya says as he swoops towards you, eyes wide and worried.

“We’ll take my car, and Fuyumi will drive.”

Natsuo’s voice holds the same note of finality that his mother’s does, large hand still curled around your shoulder as firm stone eyes scan the three faces in front of him.

❅ ❅ ❅

Touya refuses to have you and Shouto in the back seat alone, and Natsuo insists that he sits in the passenger seat, to make sure Fuyumi doesn’t hurt his baby, he explains, which is how you end up smack in the middle of the oldest and youngest Todoroki children.

It’s cramped—they’re both too big to be in the backseat of such a small car—resulting in the three of you being squished together, your body packed in tightly—practically wedged—between theirs.

It’s nearly impossible to keep your thigh from brushing against Shouto’s, but you try anyway, leaning into Touya as much as you can. A strong, possessive arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers fisted in the material of your little sweaterdress, sapphire eyes hyper-focused on the way Shouto’s corduroy clad thigh keeps knocking against your bare knee with every gentle jolt of the car.

But when Shouto idly drops his large hands heavily to his lap with a sigh, long fingers splayed casually, just the very tip of his pinky resting against your thigh—well.

Touya sees fucking red, yanking your body away from his little brother immediately with a vicious growl caught in his throat, the movement so sudden and unexpected it has both you and Shouto gasping, heterochromatic eyes wide and alert as they snap to his eldest brother’s face,

He hadn’t even noticed. Truthfully, you probably wouldn’t have either if it hadn’t been Touya’s suffocating, overbearing presence beside you—engulfing you, causing you to be excessively aware of every miniscule movement, every jostle and touch and bump.

“Don’t fucking touch her,”

It takes Shouto another half a second before the realization hits him, eyes darting down to his thighs, finally taking note of the placement of his fingers. Then he’s scoffing, rolling his eyes as he huffs to himself, quiet and under his breath, something about Touya being absolutely ridiculous and childish and insecure.

Yet Shouto’s legs spread a little more every time Touya pulls you a few centimeters closer to him, ensuring that your thighs can never quite escape his, his strong muscles constantly nudging against yours.

It isn’t until you push your knee back against his, hard and purposeful, giving Shouto a sharp look, that this behaviour finally halts.

“Who’s being childish now?” you hiss, eyes holding his sternly, widening a moment later as if to say, Stop aggravating him.

Shouto’s face falls, lips tugging down into a frown as his gaze searches your face, head shaking a little. He opens his mouth—to apologize, you think—but is cut off by Touya’s immature snickering, his chest vibrating against your back.

“Fuck you,” he seethes instead, eyes narrowing and mouth snapping into a firm, unimpressed line.

“Watch it—”

“Play nice, you two,” Natsuo warns from the front seat. “I won’t hesitate to pull this car over and beat both your asses on the side of the road for everyone to see,”

“Okay, dad,” Shouto snorts as Touya simultaneously responds with, “I’d like to see you try,”

Nevertheless, Natsuo’s little warning does manage to shut them up for the remainder of the ride, Shouto crossing his legs, knees pressed up painfully against the door in an attempt to stop touching you. You’re practically in Touya’s lap by the time you arrive at the Ena Skating Rink at Crystal Park, seatbelt uncomfortably biting into your flesh through your clothing.

“I don’t understand why we had to drive an hour just to go skating,” Shouto grumbles just as Fuyumi turns into the parking lot, face set in a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed as he glares out the window. “There was a perfectly fine lake like, ten minutes from the cabin,”

“Shou, you sound like a petulant teenager,”

“Technically, he is a petulant teenager,”

“Not for much longer,”

“That’s right, your birthday’s coming up,” you say automatically without thinking, words slipping from your mouth as Fuyumi circles the lot in search of a parking spot. In the past, Shouto would’ve ignored such a slip-up, figuring the politeness of providing you an answer not worth Touya’s wrath, but now he turns to face you with a small smile, heterochromatic eyes almost twinkling, mask of irritability burning off his face in an instant.

“Yeah, in a few weeks,” he shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll be twenty,”

Do you have any plans?

The question lingers on the tip of your tongue, words frozen at the back of your throat as Touya’s hand curls protectively around you, strong fingers digging into your plush waist hard enough to make you wince.

But Shouto has become pretty good at reading you over these past few years, no longer needs you to voice your thoughts—the two of you have become accustomed to communicating through looks and expressions alone, to keep from sending Touya into an absolute rampage, to keep the both of you safe.

“Not sure what I’m doing yet,” he answers, keeping his voice light, though those mismatched eyes are sharply trained on your face, ready to analyze and decode whatever expression your features morph into.

This is the first time he’s ever verbally answered, though, and it hits you like a bag of bricks swung at your chest, the realization that this is something the two of you have built up together, something the two of you have spent years doing, working together silently, quietly, subtly, to keep Touya placid, something the two of you have been subconsciously doing to protect each other.

The thought inspires an odd feeling in your stomach, chest tightening with something akin to anxiety, something bitter and heavy rooting in the pit of your belly.

Touya saves you from having to answer, hastily unbuckling your seatbelt for you the moment Fuyumi’s finished reversing the car and nearly hauling you out before she’s even cut the engine.

❅ ❅ ❅

“You’re not coming?” you ask Touya as he slips your foot into a skate, beginning to lace it up.

Touya shakes his head. “No,”

“Touya never learned how to skate—refused to, actually,” Natsuo informs you, sitting down next to you on the bench and playfully bumping his shoulder against yours.

Tilting you head, you stare at him, a soft little oh slipping from your lips. Touya avoids your gaze, jaw clenching rhythmically.

“It’s for the best. He really shouldn’t be near any sort of blade for an extended period of time, not while Shouto’s in reach,” Natsuo jokes, though no one laughs, because it’s true.

Touya spends most of his time leaning against the boards, bright sapphire eyes trained on you, glued to you, cataloging all of your movements, each of your cute little giggles and soft little smiles, every hand on your shoulder or waist as it steadies you.

It’s hard for him to watch.

It’s hard for him to watch the way your eyes twinkle as Fuyumi speaks to you, the two of you gliding around the ice nonchalantly, hard for him to watch the way Natsuo pulls endless laughter from your throat as his gloved hands hold yours, pulling you along with him, hard for him to watch when Shouto appears beside you, slowing his stride to talk animatedly to you, the two of you absorbed in whatever discussion you’re having.

And yet, he can tell something isn’t right. Your eyes are twinkling, but they don’t gleam the way they do when you gaze at him. You’re laughing, but it isn’t as bubbly and pure as it is when evoked by him. You’re talking, but you aren’t wholly and completely captivated by whatever it is Shouto’s saying to you, gaze constantly drifting just over his shoulder, connecting with Touya’s.

Those ten little words from the night before echo through his mind again, and his molars grind together, but the look in your eyes, the way your face positively lights up when you skate towards him, past him, blowing kisses and giggling behind mitten covered hands, stomps them to little pieces, to dust, your fleeting presence blowing them away. He feels like he can fucking breathe again, each time you glide by him, resolve hardening a little more with every lap past him.

No, he knows he’s the best for you, absolutely is without a doubt the very best for you— and you confirm it with that loving, adoring, doting look every single time.

Despite this, he keeps disappearing intermittently, your heart sinking just a little bit more every time you look over to see him nowhere to be found, a sour taste settling on the back of your tongue. This is only the second day into the trip and you’re already terrified, knowing that he’s filling his nostrils with that fine white powder the moment he begins to feel his high fading, the moment he feels himself beginning to come down.

And by the third time he vanishes within a single hour, you decide you can no longer stand by and do nothing, say nothing—he’s gone for more than usual this time, an uneasy sense of dread flooding your body, making your limbs tingle as your heart begins to race, plopping down on the wooden bench and bending down to quickly unlace your skates. Your voice shakes as you tell the others that you’d like to take a short break from skating, claiming that your feet are sore, and that you’d like to rest for a while.

In actuality, you’re sure they all know what you’re doing, itching to go search for Touya, heart pounding painfully as several scenarios flash through your mind, but they say nothing, nodding with those polite smiles they all plaster on their faces any time something like this occurs.

The muscles in your thighs ache as you jog across the snow-dusted field, eyes frantically darting around the large open space in search for a man with ivory hair and azure eyes. Your feet take off the moment you spot him, an instinctual reaction, breath ragged and burning in your chest as you barrel into him, winding your arms around his waist tightly and burying your face in his strong chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s murmuring softly, arms encircling you and squeezing you against him, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “What’s going on, princess?”

Pulling back, your eyes study his face, stomach plummeting when you see it.

“Out playing in the snow again?”

Cobalt eyes narrow, Touya tilting his head in question as he stares at you. A frown mars your face, deep sigh leaving your nostrils without your permission, and Touya bristles. A tender thumb swipes across his nose, showing him the pure white powder it gathers.

“Slow down,” you say softly, gently, cautious eyes watching him carefully. “I don’t want a trip to the ER for Christmas,”

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you can see it, the blue fire simmering deep within them, but because it’s Christmas—and only because it’s Christmas—he blinks twice, extinguishing the flame to dull embers.

Chest heaving once, deep and heavy, he sighs out of parted lips, holding your hand to his cheek. Sapphire eyes close briefly as he nuzzles his face into your touch, and for a moment—just for a second—you think he’s about to apologize.

But that would be a Christmas miracle.

“Keep me in line,” he says quietly, shoulders slumping a little in defeat, a tiny sardonic grin on his lips as his eyes open again, searching your face. “Okay? Can’t let my best girl down on Christmas, now, can I?”

And although his shoulders are straining under the weight of this new responsibility—to try and restrain himself a little more, to not solely rely on the drugs to numb him to everything, to give up autonomy, power, to you—a weight feels like it’s been lifted off of yours, regardless of the fact that he’s asking you to control him, and you inhale deeply, able to breathe again.

“I love you,” you tell him instead, unsaid words sown into the fabric of the sentence.

It all makes him feel like he can do this, like he might actually survive this, so long as you’re by his side. The thought produces an inexplicable lump in his throat and he blinks hard, glittering eyes sweeping across your face before he seizes it, large hands cupping your jaw almost painfully as he pulls your face towards his, lips capturing yours in a crushing kiss.

Niichan! You try to squeal, muffled by his lips, Touya using the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, down your throat.

Traitorous as ever, your body melts into his only a second later, fingers latching behind his neck, trying to pull yourself closer.

“I need more,” he mumbles against your lips before pecking them again, eyes still closed. “I need more, baby, I need more right now,”

“Then take it,” you whine breathlessly into his mouth, echoing your words from the night before. “Take it, it’s yours,”

❅ ❅ ❅

It smells like damp rubber and stale snow, with a hint of year-old hard candy crushed beneath snow boots, releasing faint scents of artificial strawberry and orange.

The restroom is filthy, but neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to pay much mind to the grime on the walls, or the flaky rust on the faucet—which is quietly dripping intermittently, covered in little droplets of condensation that gleam under the harsh florescent light humming above, tubes exposed.

The cement wall is cold against your bare skin as Touya rucks your dress up around your waist, hands under your ass supporting your weight as your legs wrap around him obediently, praising you for listening to him and never wearing pants, even in weather like this, because god, it makes everything so much easier, baby.

In the past, you would’ve been in a rush, positive you didn’t have much time before someone noticed your absence.

But your family is used to this now, completely unphased by the two of you disappearing for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes and returning with swollen lips and freshly fucked hair.

It’s not like they can say anything, anyway—it’s not like anything is going to stop the two of you now; it’s not like anything would’ve stopped the two of you before, either.

Despite this, Touya still doesn’t exactly take his time with you, large hands pawing at your breasts, your waist, your hips, fingers dipping into the elastic waistband of your panties just to let it snap back against your skin, reveling in the little yelp it conjures from you.

“Already soaked,” he sneers in your ear as two fingers skim over your lace-clad cunt. “Of course you are. I don’t know why I expected any less,” he huffs out a chuckle; a mean, harsh sound that ghosts over the shell of your ear before he captures it with his teeth, biting down hard and forcing a high-pitched squeal from your throat. “Because my baby’s such a Goddamn slut, isn’t she,” his lips are against your ear as he murmurs in that low, sultry voice, hot breath contrasting the cool air of the restroom, and you shiver violently.

“Only for you,” you whine out, already breathless.

And you’ll never get over how easily he knocks the air out of your lungs with just a few dirty words and prodding fingers, stroking your slit through drenched lace in a way that’s almost gentle, careful, purposeful, sure to keep his touches as teasing and not nearly enough.

Still, those three words have more of an effect on him than you would’ve thought, a possessive growl ripping from his chest as he grinds his hard cock against your inner thigh, the denim rough against your soft skin.

That growl in particular is your favourite, and you tell him so.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, pulling back as sapphire searches your face rapidly, wide and bright and alert with the cocaine rushing through his body.

“Makes me—” sharp teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, just above your shoulder, a loud gasp cutting you off and bouncing against the walls of the small room. “Makes me wet, niichan,”

He groans into your skin, tongue wet and warm and caressing the skin in little licks back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he sucks, branding you with brilliant violet.

“What’s this? My princess talking so dirty without being prompted?” he pulls back to look at you, and you can see the amusement dancing in his deep, deep eyes, endless pits of cerulean smothering everything their gaze touches, almost voracious as they soak it all up, feeling like they’re sucking the very life from you in the most delicious way.

A pitiful squeak escapes your lips in the form of an answer, heat seeping into your cheeks. He’s mocking you—you can tell. Those three words uttered from your lips aren’t even that dirty, are nothing compared to some of the things that have come out of your mouth while you’re delirious on his cock, begging for his cum.

Still, you’re unable to find your voice, staring at him in an almost helpless manner, a little kitten in the clutches of a jaguar, claws beginning to close in on you, trapping you between heavy, sharp paws.

“Ah,” he smirks, eyes darkening dangerously. “Not so bold when niichan’s actually looking at you, are you?”

Front teeth dig into your bottom lip, chewing on it a little as you hold his gaze, feeling heat gush between your thighs, the symphony of your combined slightly ragged breathing ringing in your ears.

“Say it again,”

And you try—really, you do, lips separating as you try to force the words out, a nasty combination of frustration and shame eroding your chest, burning and acidic, then shaking your head a moment later.

“Just,” you whimper as you try to pathetically rock against him. “Please?”

“Nah, nah, nah,” he’s shaking his head, that stupid grin etched across his face, pulling back even more but keeping you up against the wall, hands still cupping your ass, hips pinning yours. “Niichan isn’t gonna fuck you now unless you ask for it,”

Your forehead creases with a deep frown. You usually ask him to fuck you, don’t you? “I alwa—”

“No, no, you don’t,” he says simply with a tilt of his head. “Niichan wants you to really ask for it this time,”

You blink rapidly in confusion. “I-I don’t understand,”

Little breaths are beginning to leave your mouth, speeding up with the racing of your heart, terrified to upset him. Yet he looks amused, looks like he’s having so much fun as he torments you.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos with a false pout, mimicking your own. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”

A little whimper leaves your lips, chin twitching, threatening to begin trembling as you shake your head at him, unable to find words. Heat floods your face again, little pinpricks under the skin of your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your humiliation as he tuts his tongue.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, though you can feel his cock throbbing through the thick denim of his jeans. “Just ask for my cock, babygirl,”

Although oozing with patronization, his voice is soft, blown pupils gazing at you with so much love it’s nearly overflowing from his eyes, slender fingers kneading the flesh of your ass almost tenderly as he waits.

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really.

“I-I want your cock, nii—” you begin, voice fading as your eyes meet his unimpressed gaze, raising an eyebrow at you as if to say Really? That’s the best you got?

A fierce need to prove yourself, to make him moan again, to make his stomach tense from just your words alone, blazes in your chest, burning through your veins and giving you another surge of confidence.

Gazing at him through your lashes, you pout a little more. “Niichan,” you whine out the honorific, back arching a little as you do. “Please, niichan, give it to me, I’m begging, my pussy is aching for your cock, T-Touya-nii—I need it filling me up, need it right now, f-feels so empty without you stretching me wide open,” the sentence fades off into a little whimper, but his lidded, glazed eyes, and the way his tongue runs along his bottom lip as he stares at you spurs you on, more dirty words spilling from your lips. “Feels—Feels wrong without your f-fat cock inside of me,” you nearly weep. “Please, niichan, make it right again,”

The gentle tremble in your voice only adds to it, somehow manages to make you seem so fucking innocent as you whine out such filthy words, and Touya can barely handle it, rubbing against your thigh, the repetitive motion of the denim dragging across your soft skin causing it to chafe.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes slip shut. “I wish I had recorded that,”

A cute, shy little giggle bubbles up your throat, face still burning. “I-I can say it again, if you want, niichan,”

He laughs—a genuine laugh deep in his throat, paired with a smile that meets his eyes—and presses a chaste kiss to your nose.

“One day, I’ll film us,” he vows, and the thought alone makes your stomach swoop. “But now, niichan’s gonna make you feel right again, okay, princess?”

“Oh, please, please,” you’re whimpering, body quivering against him.

“Shh, niichan’s got you,” he murmurs as he fiddles with his belt using a singular hand, your tiny fingers wandering down between your bodies to aid him.

Shoving your panties to the side, the head of his cock presses against you, and you wince in anticipation of the stretch—the stretch you so lovingly begged him for, he reminds you, sapphire eyes soaking up every single one of your expressions as he pushes in; reveling in the way your shut lids tighten, face screwing up in pain as the softest little yelp hitches in your throat.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, abused cunt still sore and raw from the night before, from being fucked so ruthlessly less than twenty-four hours ago.

But you’re so wet, he breathes, rolling his hips slowly, stretching you little hole out just a bit more with each unhurried rock of his hips against yours. The wetness does nothing to stop the sting that accompanies his motions, though, reopening the tiny superficial fissures in your sensitive skin, quite literally tearing you apart, again, as your cunt yields to his girth.

“Niichan, hurts,”

“Yeah, baby?”

Little fingers curl in his thick sweater, and you whimper out an affirmative, head nodding lethargically against his shoulder.

“I thought you wanted niichan to fill you up?” he speaks as though he’s confused, a hint of condescension sown into the question, never halting his thrusts.

“I-I do!” you say quickly, head shooting up to gaze at him with glassy eyes, thick shield of unshed tears causing them to gleam in the harsh light. “I do,”

“Well then,” he smirks at you, hips pulling back, slow and controlled, before thrusting back in, sharp and fast, so hard it shoves your body up the wall, head whacking against the concrete with such force it sends agonizing pain shooting through your skull like lightning strikes. “Stop being a fucking brat, and take what niichan’s giving you,” he scolds over the piercing cry that falls from your lips, voice rough, deep, rumbling the way thunder does, buried in thick clouds on a humid summer’s day.

“Ungrateful little slut,” he snarls out, panting a little as his hips set a punishing pace, rapidly slamming into you, his jutting hipbones digging into the fresh bruises from the night before.

And you’re powerless to stop the noises you’re emitting, catching in your throat in time with his harsh thrusts, little mewls of niichan! and broken whines bouncing off the solid, cold walls, each one reverberating in his skull, forcing his hips to drive faster, harder, deeper.

But it’s fucking intoxicating, the way he’s pulling those needy little sounds from you as tears slip down your cheeks, pompously spitting demeaning words at you, sugarcoated in a thin, gleaming layer of praise. He’s a goddamn drug, words invading your mind and casting a thick haze over it, and during that moment all you can see is him, hear is him, taste is him—you swear you can feel him rushing through your veins, his heady scent of expensive cologne mixed with hickory campfire and a hint of Marlboros filling your lungs, the organs swelling painfully as you hold him inside your chest, trying to keep a piece of him close to your heart.

He stops to readjust your position, grunting as hooks an arm under your knee and yanks, ripping it from around his waist and forcing it toward your torso, your ankle nearly resting on his shoulder, his hand splayed flat against the dirty wall, using it as leverage. Your other leg clings to him, wrapped so tightly around his body that the muscles are beginning to quiver. Still, this brief pause affords you a much needed moment to catch your breath before his hips piston into you again, harsh, strong, fast, cockhead slamming against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

Each thrust forces another yelp to tear from your throat, your voice hoarse and raw, as he bruises your abused cervix, sharp spikes of pain shooting up your lower back and down your trembling thighs. He’s a watery blur at this point, eyes overflowing with tears, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders as you clutch him, arms beginning to ache from holding yourself up.

Tufts of white hair stick to his neck and forehead, clumped together with sweat. He’s almost whining out curses, slipping from between clenched teeth as his thrusts continue to pick up speed, although you can barely hear him over the sound of your own ragged breathing, peppered with pitiful little sobs that leave your chest heaving.

“Look at you,” he gasps out, wild sapphire eyes searching your face. “So fucking beautiful, taking my cock so well,”

And even in such a position, inebriated from the potent combination of pain and pleasure and him, his praise still makes your heart soar. A little pink tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips, bitten raw by him and salty with your own tears. Strand of hair stick to your puffy cheeks, though you’re unsure if they’re coated in sweat or tears.

“C’mon, baby,” he nearly keens. “Want you to be a good girl and cum for me,”

And those two tiny, four letter words are the magic words, like they always are, your head nodding vigorously, incoherent babbling bubbling past your lips; yes niichan, of course, wanna be a good girl for you, touya-nii, the best girl, your best girl.

He gives you permission to touch your clit, swollen and aching from neglect, your fingers sneaking between your bodies to rub at it, pussy clenching almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Yeah baby, just like that, milk niichan for all the cum he’s got,”

The praise, mixed with a direct command, has your fingers speeding up, moving in rapid circular motions, that cord of heat in your stomach coiling tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until it finally snaps, your little cunt throbbing as you gush around his cock.

He follows immediately after with a dark growl of your name, hips stilling as he finally cums, pinning you against the wall, cockhead pressed tightly against your sore cervix.

It’s thick, scalding, and copious, wrecked little noises getting caught in your throat as his cock pulses, filling you with endless spurts of cum; so much, too much, and you’re sure your womb isn’t nearly big enough to take it all, positive that it’s leaking out of you, running down your ass and down his balls.

You still haven’t caught your breath by the time Touya’s releasing you, hands firm on your hips as he places you gently on your feet, keeping you steady as your legs shake. You can still feel his cum leaking out of you, and you wish you had something better than your thin panties to keep it inside of you. With a pout, you tell him so, voice absolutely ruined as you wheeze out, “I-I wish I had a-a plug, niichan, to hold all of your cum inside me,”

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes twinkling as he gazes down at you, brushing his slender fingers through your sweaty hair. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

❅ ❅ ❅

You don’t remember much of the drive home, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from falling shut. Touya’s half dried cum is sticky—now practically gelatinous—in your panties and the mere thought of it makes you whimper, wiggling your hips a little, trying to shuffle closer to him.

It makes you feel needy. It makes him feel wanted.

“Niichan’s here, baby,” he’s murmuring into your hair as he readjusts his arm around your waist, pulling both your legs over his lap, your side still pressed firmly against his. “Niichan’s here,”

A pitiful whine slips from your lips, little fingers curling in his hoodie as warm hands travel up your dress, kneading the supple flesh of your thighs. Fingers press into the bruises he knows are there without even having to look, smirking at the way you hiss, contrasted by the way your thighs spread just a bit more, giving him more room to work, to play. The pads of his fingers graze the tiny raised cuts that the rough denim of his jeans left behind, tracing the raised little scabs.

“Sleep,” he tells you softly. “You did so good today, such a good little girl for me, my best girl,”

And his voice is the most soothing lullaby, smooth like melted platinum and quiet enough that only you can hear it, undoubtedly drowned out to the others by the staticky car radio.

❅ ❅ ❅

The dark bedroom is bleary, as if you were gazing at it though a thick slab of glass, eyes scanning the room slowly, mumbling out something that’s unintelligible even to yourself.

You’re not exactly sure how you got here, sitting on one of the twin beds in yours and Touya’s shared bedroom, propped up against the tiny headboard like a doll.

Touya’s murmuring to you softly as tender hands find the hem of your dress, tugging it up slowly, slowly, slowly, a low whine getting caught in your throat as your soft skin is exposed to the cool air, until he’s removed it from you completely. The clasp at the back of your bra snaps, and you want to tell him to be more gentle, this is your favourite bra, but you can’t seem to make your tongue move, the muscle sitting slimy and heavy in your mouth. Your vision disappears entirely for a second as something soft is slipped over your head, your body engulfed in the scent of hickory wood and Marlboro smoke.

Then large hands are all over you, maneuvering you onto your side then rolling you onto your back, gently prying your thighs open a moment later as he kneels between them, the springy mattress dipping with his weight.

“Touya-nii,” his name escapes your lips in a jumbled whine of protest.

“Shh, baby,” he hushes you, pulling your soiled panties down your legs.

Every muscle in your body aches, weighted down with fatigue from the long day, a few weak kicks—more of a fluttering of your legs, really—being all you’re able to manage in resistance.

“Hurts, niichan,” you whimper, through your eyelids are already falling shut again, exhaustion tugging at your consciousness gently.

“I know, princess,” he responds, and you’re just awake enough for the words to register, brow furrowing. His body heat disappears for a moment from between your thighs as he leans over to grab something, then returns, waves of comforting warmth rolling off of him.

Your body flinches ever so slightly as you feel something cold and smooth being spread across your swollen folds and puffy little hole. Cream, your mind supplies feebly.

“Niichan—”

“Quiet now,” he says, voice firmer than before. An order, this time. “Go to sleep, baby, and let niichan take care of this,”

Hot, tingling sparks blossom deep in the pit of your stomach, making your entire body buzz, like you’re high off him again, the sensation causing your chest to swell. This is what love feels like—Touya rubbing cool, soothing cream into your raw skin as he murmurs soft praises to you—you’re absolutely positive about it.

“I love you,”

The words leave your lips as a dreamy sigh, body finally relaxing against the mattress again.

He presses a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the soft skin a mosaic of crimson and violet from his previous ministrations. “I love you more,”

And that’s the last thing you feel, the last thing you hear as your mind slowly drifts into unconsciousness, filled with hazy images of a pretty boy with glowing sapphires for eyes and ivory for hair, of slim veiny hands decorated with the most magnificent black ink, the pads of their fingertips dancing along your skin, of a deep, sultry voice smoother than satin murmuring how much it loves you as lips crawl up your body—up your thighs, over your stomach and ribs, along the curve of you neck, until finally, they reach yours.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya smut #dabi #AAAAH this was supposed to be posted last night but i fell asleep editing it after getting distracted by SOMEONE #anyway enjoy!!#i hope u all like it!!#whew two down three to go #technically two to go because part four is nearly finished ehehe #tw pseudo-incest #OH THERES ALSO SOME FORESHADOWING IN HERE EUEUEUEUEUEEUEUE #MARI KNOWS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

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softiem · 4 years

Text

you used to paint his skies

pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x GN!Reader

overview: The one in which Bokuto swears up and down that he loves you, but the nagging feeling in your chest is too strong to ignore.

word count: ~3.9k

content warnings: cheating (PAIN), MSBY!Bokuto, I use like 9 swear words, you might cry depending on your mood, don’t let the fluff at the beginning deceive you, idek if this is good angst, no concrete happy ending ??? :c

notes: Happy (late) New Year !! This is my first time posting here, so sorry if this is hot garbage :P — btw TO ALL THE BOKUTO FAVES OUT THERE, I’M TRULY SORRY. I PROMISE I ADORE HIM WITH MY ENTIRE HEART AND SOUL !!! thank you for your time ٩(♡ε♡)۶

part two.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bokuto Koutarou, the love of your life. You knew him like the back of your hand; you prided yourself in that fact, actually.

After four years of being able to call him yours, you thought you’d caught onto nearly all of his idiosyncrasies, the little quirks and peculiarities that made him so uniquely him. So uniquely yours.

You knew how he’d always pick out the cucumbers in a dish and plop them onto your plate — that cheeky smile of his adorning his face.

– – – – –

“Bokuto, this is ridiculous,” you sighed, watching as your boyfriend found another slice of cucumber and added it to the growing pile in the corner of your plate.

He stopped and stared at you like a child who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. You tried to fight back a smile seeing the top of his hair deflate ever so slightly.

“First of all, I’m not Bokuto to you. Second of all, baby, look!” He pointed to the small mound of vegetables on your plate. “I asked them for no cucumbers but what did they add? Cucumbers!” He seemed to deflate even further as he pouted at the offensive sight.

“Listen, Bokuto-”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Babe-”

“Better. Thank you, honey.”

Letting out a small giggle, you continued, “Listen, babe. Can you at least try one piece for me? Maybe you’ll realise that cucumbers don’t taste as bad as they did when you were younger.”

You caught the skeptical look he was giving you.

“How many?” you asked with a tiny smirk tugging at your lips. Bokuto seemed to perk up at your words.

“One cucumber for five kisses.”

“Boku- Babe, that’s ridiculous,” you laughed. “One kiss.”

“Six kisses.”

“You can’t make the number higher, Kou!”

“Fine, four.”

“Three.”

“Deal.”

– – – – –

You knew how he’d twiddle his fingers whenever he wanted to hold your hand but didn’t want to invade your personal space, especially if the two of you were in public or if you’d just had a rough day.

– – – – –

Bokuto walked right next to you, making sure you were on the inside of the sidewalk in an attempt not to lose you among the sea of passersby. He glanced down at your hands tucked into your jacket pockets, silently longing for their warmth. Moving his eyes back down to the ground in front of him, he began to absentmindedly pick at his fingers.

Your eyes caught the slight movement and you turned your head to where your boyfriend was walking right beside you. He had the smallest pout on his face as he continued to play with his hands.

A smile grew on your face and your eyes softened up at him.

“Hey.”

Bokuto jumped at the sound but looked to your smiling face as a similar grin brightened up his.

“Hi, baby.”

“You know, my hands are feeling awfully cold, even in my pockets,” you feigned a huff. “Can you help me, babe?” Bringing your hand out into the cold air, you opened it invitingly, wiggling your fingers.

His bright smile grew even bigger as he excitedly grasped onto you and stuck your intertwined hands into his pocket.

“Of course I can, baby!” He even went the extra mile and wrapped his scarf around your neck, patting your head once he was done.

– – – – –

You knew how much he liked going out for drinks with his teammates after their games, and sometimes, he’d ask you to tag along; you’d always agree, even though you weren’t big on drinking yourself (his puppy-dog eyes were truly lethal). Despite the fact that he could hold his alcohol quite well, he’d always stop at one or two drinks if you were out with him.

And you also knew that he absolutely treasured the feeling of being yours, just as you did with being his.

– – – – –

After a night of drinking with Bokuto’s teammates, you found yourself walking through the car park as he flanked your backside, his arms resting comfortably around your shoulders. Feeling a chilly breeze run across your skin, you shifted your body closer to Bokuto’s. He tightened his hug, pulling you closer into his chest.

“Y’know, Kou,” you spoke softly as the two of you approached his car — you felt the low rumble of his responding hum through his chest. “If you wanted to, you could’ve had a bit more to drink. I know you wanted to try out one of the new cocktails with Atsumu. We even agreed that I’d be driving-”

“Of course I know that, honey!” Bokuto cut you off with a small giggle and kissed the top of your head. “If I wanted to, I would. But I didn’t, did I?” His arms tightened as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“But, Boku-”

“No.”

“Babe,” you laughed, “I just want you to be able to have fun, okay? This is one of your last games of the season and I-”

Bokuto pulled you away from his embrace and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. He leaned into you, and with your noses nearly touching and your wide eyes meeting his sparkling ones, you understood his silent message.

“Stop worrying, I’m okay.”

Suddenly pulling away from him, you gasped for air, realising that you’d forgotten to breathe when he brought himself closer. You flushed, hearing his roaring laughter.

“Just get in the car, ya big lughead.” Walking to the passenger side of the car, you opened the door for Bokuto to climb in and put his seat belt on for him. He was still laughing, but it ceased after he heard the latter half of what you said.

“What do you mean ‘lughead’?” He pouted as you slid into the driver’s seat, having to adjust the chair as you grumbled about how he was too big for his own good. “I thought I was your babe, your Kou. Remember?”

“Yes, babe. You are my boy, my dovey, my Koutarou.” You turned to him, placing a hand on the side of his face as your thumb lightly stroked his cheek. Leaning in, your lips met his in a small kiss. “And forever will be,” you whispered against his lips.

He brought you into another kiss, deeper this time, pulling away only to pepper little pecks across your cheeks as you giggled into him.

“And you,” he began, planting a big kiss on your forehead, “are my honey, my lovey, my angel.” He sighed contentedly, squishing your face between his hands. “My perfect, pretty baby.”

– – – – –

Bokuto Koutarou, the love of your life. You knew him like the back of your hand.

So how had it come to this point?

The two of you were currently locked in a tense silence. The argument you were having only minutes ago was still ringing in your ears. Bokuto’s eyes glared down at you as his nostrils flared with barely restrained frustration.

You sighed in exhaustion.

“Kou, all I’m asking is for you to take a break.” You tried to ignore the way his hands curled up into fists from where his arms were crossed. “I know this next game means a lot to you, but can’t you see that you’re working yourself to the bone? You’re exhausted, babe. One break for you is all I want. Please just listen to me this one time.”

You began to take a step toward him, but your efforts were quickly squashed upon seeing a deep scowl take shape on his face.

Bokuto scoffed.

“If you know how much it means to me, then you’d know how I need to practice to make sure that my team wins.”

“Yes, I know that, but you just look so tired nowadays, and I’m worried, Kou. I know you, and right now, what you need is a break so that-”

“Then clearly you know jack shit about me!”

Hearing his outburst, you stumbled back slightly and pulled your hands up to your chest as you felt them begin to tremble.

“Every fucking day, I work and I practice just so that we can keep living happily and my team can keep winning.” He began to stalk toward your cowering figure. “If you know me so fucking well, then you’d know that what I don’t need right now is you coddling me, breathing down my goddamn neck, and telling me what to do with myself.”

Bokuto’s hands were clenched at his sides as he glared holes into your skull. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, afraid of what you’d be met with, who you’d be met with.

This wasn’t your Koutarou.

Your sweet, loving, doting Koutarou who would always remember to give you a morning kiss before he left for practice. Your Koutarou who shoveled cream and sugar into his morning coffee because he couldn’t stand the bitterness of black coffee (“It’s like drinking rat poison!” he’d once told you). Your Koutarou who would try his very best to cut up fruit into little shapes for you whenever you weren’t feeling well. Your Koutarou who, when he found you in the stands at his games, would reach a hand up to his face, his thumb touching the tip of his nose, and wiggle the rest of his fingers with the biggest grin on his face — his good luck salute.

The man in front of you was not him.

You tried to look everywhere but his towering figure, your eyes beginning to sting as your vision grew blurry.

“Dovey, I’m s-sorry,” you shakily whispered, “I just w-want what’s best f-for you-”

“Don’t pull that shit right now. If you want what’s best for me, you’d know when to back off.”

Your breathing grew heavier as you watched Bokuto turn away from you, moving closer to the front door.

“D-Dovey-”

“You know what? I’m tired of this.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out. Away from you.”

“But it’s cold! A-And you need to rest for tomorrow’s practice!”

“I need fucking space.” He shoved his arms into a thin jacket, shoving his keys and phone into pocket before forcefully pulling the door open.

“Koutarou, please!”

The resonant slam that echoed in your home opened the floodgates. Your throat squeezed in pain as you tried to hold in an onslaught of sobs. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried to keep your feet steady as you curled in on yourself. Salty tears rolled down your cheeks while Bokuto’s words ran through your head.

“Then clearly you know jack shit about me!”

“I’m tired of this.”

“I need fucking space.”

As your sobs abated into small hiccups and your vision became less blurry with tears, you were able to shakily pick yourself up off the floor and walk to one of the front windows. Looking out into the dark night, you noticed that Bokuto’s car was nowhere to be seen in the driveway. Your heart seemed to clench again, and you gnawed on your lip to force down another sob urging its way up your throat.

Slowly, you made your way to your shared bedroom and fell face first into Bokuto’s side of the bed. Inhaling the scent in his pillow, you pulled it closer to you. The prickling feeling in the corner of your eyes was growing familiar.

In the silence of the night, you were left with your thoughts rampaging through your mind and the moonlight shyly peeking through the curtains.

You didn’t understand. When had it all gone to shit? The two of you seemed fine just yesterday; Bokuto had woken up before you and smothered your face in kisses so that the two of you could get up together.

But recently, you’ve come to notice how there was an underlying tiredness in your boyfriend’s eyes. He constantly complained of muscle aches and soreness and how the team’s practices kept running longer than usual.

That was when you decided to step in and tell him to take a break for the sake of his team and, more importantly, his health. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t seem to take too well to your “coddling,” and that was what brought you to your current situation.

Stray tears leaked out of your eyes as you thought back to the argument. Where did he go? Did he have somewhere safe to stay? Would he even come back? Did he really think you coddled him? Was he finally tired of you, of your relationship? Was this the end?

You tried to shake the thoughts from your mind, telling yourself, “No, no! He still loves you.” But your mind was unrelenting, picturing too many scenarios of how he could be happier without you worrying about him every hour of every day.

Briefly, you thought about calling him to make sure that he was safe but decided against it. What if he thought you were still trying to “coddle” him? What if he thought you were too suffocating?

You didn’t sleep well that night.

– – – – –

The next morning, the crushing realisation that Bokuto hadn’t come home last night fell on top of you as you felt the empty bed. In a slight panic, you reached out for your phone on the nightstand and dialed his number.

One time, no answer. Two times, no answer. On your third try, you sighed in relief, gratefully hearing the click of the other end.

“Oh thank goodness, Kou.” You stumbled out of bed as you made your way into the bathroom. “Where are you right now? Are you safe? Who’re you staying with? Do you need me to come-”

“I’m sorry who is this?” an unfamiliar voice interrupted you. The person on the other end seemed like they had just woken up from their hoarse tone.

You stilled as a tremor started crawling up your spine, but you willed it down. No, he would never! He loves you!

“Hello?”

Taking a deep breath, you responded, “Oh uh, Bokuto’s my boyfriend.” You gave a weak laugh. “Are you a friend of his? Can you tell him something for me once he wakes up?”

There was rustling on the other end of the call as the person seemed to be getting out of bed.

“Hun, I’m so sorry.” Their voice was quieter this time. Your brows furrowed in confusion hearing their sudden apology. “I had no idea he was taken. I’m so sorry.”

Your blood ran cold. Biting your lip, you racked your brain for any possible explanation for what was going on. The heat behind your eyes from last night was coming back, and you could feel the pounding of your heart in your throat.

So he actually did it, huh?

“O-Oh.” The only thing you could mutter was a pitiful whimper.

“I’m so so sorry, hun. If I had known, I would’ve ripped him a new one right at the bar. I can’t imagine-”

“It’s not your fault.” Your voice was small, shaky. “You didn’t know. This is on him.”

“I… I know, but I just-”

“When he wakes up, can you tell him something for me?”

In any other circumstance, you would have felt guilty for interrupting so many times, but at the moment, you could barely even keep yourself standing. Your chest squeezed as your fingers dug into the phone.

“Yes, absolutely. Whatever you want.”

“Can you tell him to come home soon, please?”

“O-Of course. Yeah, I can do that.” Confusion was evident in their voice. They’d probably expected you to tell Bokuto that it was over, not ask for him to come home.

“Thank you.”

You hung up before they could even respond.

With a wobbly breath, you set your phone down on the bed and walked into the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was messy. Your eyes were swollen and red with bags lining the bottom lids. Your lips were slightly bleeding and looked as if they were chewed raw.

You couldn’t bring yourself to keep scrutinising as violent sobs rose from your throat. Gripping the bathroom counter for dear life, your teeth clenched in a poor attempt to keep your cries at bay. Tears dripped into the sink as you cried harder, the sounds of your lament echoing within the small room.

Once again, you forced yourself to hold in the rest of your tears, splashing cold water on your face as your mind drifted to your next course of actions.

You noticed your phone buzzing repeatedly when you walked back into the bedroom. Ignoring it, you set out to pack a few bags with some of your things despite not knowing where you’d be going after this. All you knew was that you needed to leave.

The buzzing of your phone didn’t stop as you were bombarded with notifications, all from the one person you wanted to talk to least in the world right now.

8 missed calls from “🦉my dovey💕”

Against your better interest, you unlocked your phone and opened the first voicemail.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry,” Bokuto’s voice was shaky as you heard the slam of a car door and the familiar rev of an engine in the background. “I fucked up. I know, baby. Just... I need you to call me back. Please, baby?”

After the tell-tale click signalling the end of the voicemail, you opened the second one.

“Baby, please! I’m so sorry for hurting you like this.” He sniffled. “I just need to know that you’re still at home, our home, baby. Please just call me and tell me that.”

The third one.

“Please, lovey, just tell me that you’re safe!” You noticed the faint sounds of the car running. “I’m on my way home right now. Okay, honey? Please be home, I’m begging you.”

The fourth.

“My lovey, my angel. I’m so sorry.” He seemed to choke on a sob. “You’re scaring me. I need to know that you’re okay. Just give me a call, a text, anything! I just need to know that you’re home.”

The bang of the front door opening stopped you from listening to the rest of Bokuto’s voicemails. You hadn’t noticed how hard your hands were shaking until you dropped your phone onto the mattress again. The tears rolling down your face only increased as you realised that you would have to face him.

“Baby?!” Bokuto’s panicked voice was hoarse — you could only imagine what happened for it to get that way. “Baby, please tell me you’re home! Please!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, but it seemed to do nothing as you heard the rushed stomping of his footsteps nearing the bedroom.

Bokuto flung the door open and immediately pulled you into a tight embrace with a breath of relief. He smelled of day-old sweat, alcohol, and the faint scent of vanilla and citrus — a scent that neither you nor him used. It was suffocating.

“Thank God you’re still here, baby.” His rough, calloused hand stroked the back of your head. “I was so scared you were gone.” You felt something drip onto your head, and you realised that he was crying.

He only tightened his embrace when you tried to pull away. His whispers of “No, no, please. Please don’t leave,” squeezed your heart.

You pulled your arms out from between the two of you and brought your hands up to his face, wiping his tears away.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen,” he whispered against your hands. You closed your eyes for a second, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the light bruises decorating his neck as your heart ached.

“How long?” Staring into his eyes, you saw the glassiness from his tears returning. Bokuto shook his head — Don’t make me remember. Your breath hitched from the way he leaned in to try and kiss you. Moving your head, he landed a peck on your cheekbone instead. He let out a sharp whimper.

“How. Long?” you ground out between clenched teeth.

He bit his lip, looking everywhere but your face.

“It was just this one time, I promise,” he murmured, “I won’t make this mistake again, baby.” As he spoke, his arms tightened around you, as he nuzzled his head into the nape of your neck.

“I know you won’t, Kou,” your voice was quiet as you spoke, trying to break the news gently, “because I’m leaving.”

You felt the way his body stiffened, and then he pulled you impossibly closer as his heaving cries began to rack his body.

“No! Baby, p-please! I’m sorry, I said I’m s-sorry!” He shook his head repeatedly, his tears running down your shoulder. “You can’t leave me! You can’t!”

You bit your lip, trying not to cry at his whimpers.

“I’m sorry, Kou.” Reaching up, you ran your fingers through his messy hair.

“Is this because,” he held back a sob, “Is this because I said that I wanted space? Because I was lying, honey! I never wanted space from you! I was lying! Angel, please don’t leave me.”

You tried to pull away from him again, and this time, he let you. His mouth was curled down, and his eyes were red, still shedding tears.

“I don’t know if I can trust you anymore, Bokuto.” His breathing stopped, hearing that name escape your lips. He stood frozen, his eyes stared down into the floor as his tears dropped into little puddles below. With that, you took your bags and phone from the bed and walked toward the front door.

You made it into the living room before you heard his hurried stumbles behind you.

“NO! NO! YOU CAN’T CALL ME THAT!” he screamed. Skidding to a stop in front of you, he dropped to his knees, holding onto your waist in a death grip. “PLEASE! PLEASE, BABY!”

Snot was running down his reddened nose and mixed in with his tears. His eyes held a sort of agony that was heart-wrenching to stare into. You willed yourself to stay calm as your nose began to sting once again.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto, but I have to go-”

“NO!” He pulled your bags out of your hands and threw them to the side. Taking your hands, he placed them on his cheeks.

“Bokuto, what are you doing?!” You tried to pull away from him, but his grip wouldn’t let you. “I already told you, I’m leav-”

“Look at me!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Look at me, please. It’s me. It’s your boy. I’m your boy. I’m your Koutarou.” His hands cupped your cheeks as his thumbs brushed away your tears. “And you’re my honey, my lovey, my angel. You’re my baby.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond — your face crumpled in pain, in heartbreak, in anguish as you thought back to what started this entire situation. Bokuto bit his lip; seeing you in so much pain because of him ripped him apart inside.

His lips parted again to continue.

“You’re my baby. I love you so so much. To the moon and back. I fucked up bad. I know, angel. But I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise you that.”

He stood up from his spot on the floor, still cupping your cheeks. A light kiss was placed on your lips as his forehead touched yours, both of your cheeks stained with tears.

“Just please don’t make me lose you like this.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #tw: cheating #tw: swearing #gn!reader

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statticscribbles · 4 years

Text

Bird Knowledge

Summary: Theseus/Reader;Just because Newts studying to be a magicalzoologist doesn’t mean Theseus isn’t good with creatures

While Newt would complain about the lack of magical creature classes, dumbledore had managed to snag a group of students for free period to hopefully subdue Newts desperate need to sneak off to the forbidden forest. “Now we’ve managed to bring in a hippogriff for you all to study and learn from. Hippogriff’s are very proud creatures and you must show them proper respect.” Dumbledore drones on and you shift until you’re standing next to Thesues who had been dragged by Newt to the meeting. He seems bored but you can see he way his gaze moves around the group; and settles on the hippogriff with slight disappointment.

“Now will each of you come up in a line and bow to the hippogriff and then we will see if he considers you a friend if he bows back.” “Hey Y/N; glad you could make it.” Newt nods and you smile getting in line behind Theseus who’s disappointment seems to lessen. “Hey Y/N. What’re you doing here?” “I wanted to see a Hippogriff in person; I’ve only ever heard you two talking about them and I feel left out.” You pout and Theseus has a small smile on his face. “You could have said something; you’re not missing much they’re just like any other creature.” You don’t even have to look at Newt’s face to feel how offended he is.

“Come on Newt I’m just trying to save Y/N from disappointment; I don’t want all our talking to have gotten her hopes up.” His arm drifts around you slightly before he pulls back shrugging. “There’s not much excited besides riding them.” He says nonchalantly and Newt rolls his eyes. “You cried when one of the baby ones sang to you.” “They can sing?” Theseus nods. “Like birds; they sometimes have specific songs for each other; or people they like.” You grin at Theseus. “Wow that incredible; have any of the ones your mom bred sung for you?” Theseus laughs nodding.

“They like to wake me up with it; which is helpful in the weeks before school; but not at five in the morning when a tree branch falls.” You nod shuffling forward as Newt finishes bowing to the Hippogriff which allows him to stroke his head. Newt grins nudging you when Leta walks back from curtsying and the hippogriff offers a half bow Dumbledore advises her not to try to pet him. Theseus is next and you hold your breath; before he can bow the hippogriff nods, almost dropping its front half to the ground. Theseus sighs. “Duncan; really?” He chides and the hippogriff pops back up chirruping slightly. “Duncan?” Leta rolls her eyes and Theseus smiles.

“I’m not good with names; Newt’s much better than I am.” “You know each other?” You question before Dumbledore nods to you and you step forward curtseying as Leta did confused when the Hippogriff bows fully and nudges its head into your hand. “Oh, um; hello Duncan.” You hum as the Hippogriff greets the rest of the students and most of them move away; both Newt and Thesues move closer and you follow both of them towards Duncan. “Duncan here was Thesues’ before he left for this year.” “Your hippogriff? You have your own hippogriff?” You stare shocked as Theseus strokes Duncan’s head.

“Well sort of; Newt and I help our mom raise the babies that she breeds during the summer; Duncan was a little smaller than average; still is.” You glance to the Hippogriff that’s almost level with Thesues’ head and he grins. “He’s only a little smaller than average.” You shake your head. “He’s much more impressive than average to me.” Duncan seems to puff up and you watch Thesues frown. “Y/N; don’t say that to him; he has a big enough ego as it is already.” “Well if you’re the one spoiling him that’s your fault; but I do think he’s incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a creature so impressive.” You nod earnestly and Duncan chirps again; nudging his head away for Theseus to step towards you.

“Duncan; Duncan no.” Theseus glares but Newt grins. “What?” You question and Newt glances back to where Dumbledore is talking to students. “He wants to offer you a ride. Here.” Before you can say anything Newt’s half lifted you onto Duncan’s back, you settle behind his wings and let your fingers run into his neck feathers. “Don’t pull his feathers out. Stay low.” Newt warns before he offers a whistle and Duncan takes off. Theseus returns from where Leta had called him over and you find yourself stunned into silence at how the sky looks. “This is incredible Duncan; thank you so much.” Your voice is quiet with awe as he hovers letting you take in the sunset over the lake. You can hear shouting from down below and you laugh a little. “I think we should go back down; I’ll protect you from Theseus; don’t worry.” You grin as Duncan swoops down. you climb off his back stroking his head and turning to see Theseus glaring.

“I’m sorry about-“ “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was! How easily you could have been hurt!” Theseus sighs shaking his head. You grin carefully keeping yourself in front of Duncan who’s head bows to rest on your shoulder. You stroke his head feathers and he makes a pleased noise as you continue.

“Y/N You could have been hurt.” He sighs in the common room after class and you shake your head. “I don’t think Duncan would have hurt me.” “Of course he wouldn’t have! He won’t hurt what I care about.” “Really?” You tilt your head and Theseus nods shrugging off your curiosity. “Of course Hippogriffs usually respect the leader; to Duncan I’m his leader.” “What does that make me? The leader’s friend?” Theseus doesn’t answer instead choosing to retreat to the boys dormitory. You turn to Newt when he appears.

“Newt; I had a question about hippogriffs that Theseus ignored!” You pout and he grins. “So he said that Duncan wouldn’t hurt me cause Theseus is like the head hippogriff leader to him or whatever; and I asked what does that make me; and he just left!” Newt laughs, shaking his head. “Hippogriffs live in a sort of herd life until they mature; so to Duncan, Theseus is like an older brother; and you’re basically his girlfriend; so Duncan wouldn’t hurt you.” “I’m basically his girlfriend?” You turn to look at the boys dormitory and then back to Newt. “Well yeah I mean Thee talks about you all the time; and;” he drags out watching the doorway before he grins back to you.

“He talks about you to our mom; he asked for advice about talking to you; I saw the letter.” Newt’s face lights up as he hasn’t been interrupted yet. “He said he wants to date you.” You’re about to respond. But Newt falls forward his legs bound by a rope and Theseus glaring from the doorway wand lowering. “What was he saying about me?” Theseus narrows his eyes as Newt struggles to stand back up. “I was just telling her about that time you got locked in with the baby hippogriffs and they puked on you and you-!” “You said you’d never tell anyone that!” Theseus hisses as he helps Newt up and you giggle. “It’s okay Thee; I’ll take it to my grave.” You grin at him noticing how he stutters slightly. “Thanks Y/N; you’re such a good person.”

“I know; it’s why you love me.” You watch Theseus swallow nodding. Newt returns to the dormitory and you realize you’re alone with Theseus with the knowledge he wants to date you. “Thank you for letting me ride Duncan; it was incredible.” “It was nothing; really it’s not that impressive if you’ve been on a broom before.” “I have; and being on Duncan was incredible!” You nod sternly and Theseus sighs shaking his head before he sits on the couch; you sink next to him and bump his shoulder with yours. “Seriously Thee; thank you.” “It was nothing.” “No please; let me pay you back somehow. Pleaseeeeee.” You whine grinning at him when he pinches his nose. “Okay.”

“Great; think about what you want from me!” His face pinks slightly and he chews his lip. “I have an idea; if you don’t want to I understand.” “Okay; tell me?” You grin and he huffs. “Will you go out to hogsmeade with me?” He rushes and you grin back. “I’d love to Theseus.” He smiles and you nudge him, trying not to think about the implications of a date on his end; or how you’re a little more than excited about it being a date. You groan pulling out the transfiguration homework you have, he rolls his eyes fondly and offers you out his notes. “You know I owe you for this as well right!” You shout up and Theseus grins. “We can settle your many debts tomorrow.” He laughs when you release an over the top sigh and sink off the couch, to return to your dorm trying to avoid the thought of the not date tomorrow.

“Ready to go?” You grin at Theseus who nods, you follow him out towards hogsmeade and wondering what he’s planned for you to pay him back. You laugh a little, understanding dawning as he makes a beeline for honeydukes. “Really Thee?” He grins back at you as you walk through the doors. “We have to have something from here. You know we do; it’s tradition.” You smile and nod; grabbing a chocolate frog and hesitating before grabbing two more; you’re not expecting Theseus to buy much; he’d usually only ever by the lemon drops that lasted for hours and the pumpkin candies that he never admitted he bought for the tiny pumpkin shapes they came in.

“What is your obsession with those? You already have all the cards twice over.” “I’m determined to find you on one of these one day, better start looking now.” He laughs shaking his head and you grin heading over to the counter. “Not so fast.” He plucks the frogs from your hands pushing them forward with his things. “Theseus!” You frown and he just grins. “It’s part of the payback.” “Okay; fine.” You pout when he walks you towards the three broomsticks. “You better let me buy you a pumpkin pastie.” “Or what?” “I won’t look for you on any of the frog cards.” He arches an eyebrow. “I can live with that.” He grins and you scowl gathering snow into a ball to pelt him with it.

“You’re awful Theseus! This isn’t me paying you back at all! This is me getting into more debt to you.” He laughs throwing one back at you but you manage to dodge it. Of course you don’t dodge the one after that it splattering fully on your face and you stumble back. Theseus offers his hand out and you look slightly confused before taking it walking forward to the three broomsticks; jerking slightly when he doesn’t move with you. “Thee?” “Sorry.” He mumbles and you turn looking confused back at him.

“For what?” You step closer and he turns slightly. “I messed you hair up.” He nudges a loose strands and you laugh. “You didn’t mess anything up; now come on.” You grin tugging his hand as he follows you towards the door. You shake off the last bits of the snow and Theseus drags you to a table in the back grinning when a plate of pumpkin pasties and two butterbeers are pushed onto the table. “Theseus what did I just say?” “Well before we got in it was that I didn’t mess anything up; have I?” he pouts and you sigh angrily biting into one of the pumpkin pasties. “I have an idea.” He perks up leaning forward. “How about; in order for me to pay you back; we spend tomorrow doing anything you want. We can go flying; or sit in the great hall or library all day.” “Okay. That’s it?” Theseus looks slightly confused.

“Yes; is that okay?” “Well isn’t that what we’re doing today?” You nod at his question. “Well yes; but I mean I’m sure you’re not too fond of dragging me around hogsmeade and getting hit with snowballs.” “I mean the snowballs aren’t the best; but I get to spend time with you.” Theseus freezes slightly and pulls his drink over chugging half of it. “Mum says you should come over for Christmas break to see Duncan.” “Your mum said that?” “I said that?” He amends and you grin. “I would love to come over for break; if your parents are okay with it.” He sighs slightly and nods.

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Trial (4)

Summary: harry and y/n face the truth

Warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 4249 words

A/N: thank you so much for supporting this series !! @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. I will do the taglist later in the day :)

EDIT: idk why the ‘read more’ is not working. I apologize for the scrolling!!

Part 4 of the Tarnish series!

___

Harry was crying.

Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.

And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely.

Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy?

Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would.

But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table.

The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.

His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?

“Harry!”

He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally.

The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,”

He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.

Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath.

“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”

“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”

“I-I was--she didn’t want me--”

“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.

“The baby is yours, Harry,”

His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”

“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”

"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’?

“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”

At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind

He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago.

“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.

Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister.

“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me?

Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”

“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,”

Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain.

Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting—-Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting.

But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)—Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily.

Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous.

He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.

If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.

Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence.

He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him.

Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.

Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”

Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone.

“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.

“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs.

Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made.

“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.

But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.

“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.

Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”

He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,” Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”

Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.

“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.

The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet.

Harry began to sob.

It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’.

Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s.

Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot.

When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention.

“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them.

“Look, you have no right coming here,”

“I know that b-but I--,”

She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”

“I had no idea--,”

“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”

Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?”

She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”

Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”

“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body.

With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them.

“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,”

And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart.

“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”

“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”

“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.

“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ‘h’.

“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”

He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”

“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”

In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”

“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”

Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”

“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly.

“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo.

“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”

What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided.

With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’

Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”

Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”

___

Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls

I need to tell you something

Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.

Y/N: I’m pregnant

And you’re the father

She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’.

It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked.

___

The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.

It wasn’t that at all.

Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.

Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.

He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.

_____

Let me know what you thought!

———

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @mellamolayla @luviewoo

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n

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onlyfortheplot · 4 years

Text

XOXO Cupid

➳ PART OF THE DADDY UNIVERSE

➳ Pairing: Koushi Sugawara x Fem!Reader ft. Aoi L/N

➳ Synopsis:

“Pardon?“ he looked at you oddly, his grin seemed forced, “Do I know you?“

“Hell yeah you know me!“ you glared at him, ignoring the stern stares of those around you, “You spiked a volleyball at my face, the first time I entered that gym?“

“You?“ Suga’s eyes grew wide.

“Me!“

“I’m sorry?” He didn’t seem really sorry, not as a small grin crept on his lips.

“Are you sorry you didn’t get a direct hit?“ you held your hips, pouting your lips, much to your daughter’s embarrassment

.➳ Warning: Slight language!! Mentions of divorce!!

➳ Word Count: 1.5K

➳ A/N:

OMG! THIS STARTED OUT AS A DAICHI FIC?? HOW??? I AM CONFUSION???? THIS IS ALSO PART OF THE DADDY UNIVERSE!! @lizbotw I hope it turned out okay??? Anyway I hope you guys enjoy!!!! <3

“But, Ma!”

You let out a frustrated sigh,at your adamant daughter, who clung insistently on your leg. You shook your feeling, as you slowly lost feeling.

“Aoi, you’re going and that’s it.” you firmly said.

Your daughter shook her hair, hair coming loose from her pigtails. You scowled as you brushed the hair back into the ponytail.

“Aoi L/N, you are making a scene.” you hissed, although many of the pitying looks from nearby parents showed that they didn’t mind. You averted your eyes from the looks, too embarrassed to say anything to them. You grasped her hand, wrenching it off your pants.

“Ma! I don’t wanna go. Uncle Noya said—”

“If I hear one more word about your uncle, you’ll find yourself without one,” you threatened as Aoi pouted.

You sighed, looking up at the sky. This was much more of a burden than actually applying for her school. You knew—understood the nervous jitters that could come with the first days of school, but this—this was too much. You watched, almost giving into your daughter’s wishes, at her teary eyes. Her desperate hands clung to your pants, pulling almost too much on the fabric. She looked at you with such an anguished look you had to think back if you had ever mentioned anything scary about first grade.

“Ma! I don’t wanna go to school,” she burrowed her face into your waist, her nose poking your hip, “Please, I’ll go tomorrow!”

“No” you grabbed her hand, pulling her in front of you, “I’ll walk with you into class.”

She whined, earning her odd and annoyed looks from both students and parents that were suffering their own crisis. You gave them apologetic looks, mouthing a small sorry. You couldn’t help that your daughter was scared. It was a new school, not to mention a new city in general. You had only moved back to Miyagi, from Tokyo, a few weeks ago. Not that that was the original plan. The plan was to initially move, three months prior to the starting of Aoi’s school. But the messy divorce, and the fight for custody was harsh on you. It wasn’t Aoi’s fault. It wasn’t her fault her father was almost non-existent. If anything it was your fault for marrying a douche bag.

It was a shotgun marriage,you liked to remind yourself. As if it was much better, if anything you felt that that made it worse. You itched your head as you walked down the packed hallway, peering at the classrooms.

“Ma, what class was I in again?” you looked down at her.

“Class 1-A?” you thought, “No—let me check.” You muttered to yourself as you held Aoi with one hand, the other burrowing through your purse. You cursed, softly, as you pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. You scanned through it quickly, as you dodged incoming parents and running students.

“I was right, Class 1-A.” you told Aoi, who shook her head, looking for the sign. 1-A. 1-A. 1-A. 1—

“Shoot,” you swore, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying something explicit. The paper fluttered down, escaping your grasp. You looked up, at the slightly taller male. He ran a hand through his silver hair, chuckling awkwardly as he looked at you. You peered your eyes, eyeing the small mole near his eye. He looked so familiar.

“Ma’am?” he asked, his voice soft and cautious. The voice of a teacher. You blushed slightly as you bent down to pick the paper that had fallen.

“Sorry, I-uh- sorry?”

“Ma!” you looked down at your daughter, who clenched her pig tails in front of her face, “Stop embarrassing me!”

Your blush grew at that. You opened your mouth to retort, but stopped at his small smirk.

“This is your daughter?” he asked, bending down to Aoi, patting her head, “Hi, there.”

“Hi-i.” she mumbled, you rolled your eyes, at her act. You knew your daughter. You gave birth to her. And you lived with her. She was not the shy one. Aoi, much to her fathers dismay, was much like you. Very outspoken about her feelings and blunt about her thoughts—to the point many found her a tiny bit insulting.

“Come on, Aoi,” you sighed, as you bent down with the man, “You know how to do this.”

She gave you a small glare, waving you over. You sighed again,as you moved closer for her.

“Mommy,” she whispered—or what she considered whispering. You were 100% sure anyone around her could hear, “Mommy, you can’t do that.”

You gave her a confused look, as she rolled her eyes, pulling you closer.

“Mommy, you have to be nice to him,” she hissed into your ear, “or else you can’t be married.”

You choked on nothing as you gave her an outraged look. Marriage? When had she ever talked to her—

Oh. You looked at the mischievous look in her eyes. A spark you had seen a lot in Yuu—or as your daughter liked to call him, Uncle Noya. You swore. Of course, he would teach her that. Just wait until he comes back, you thought, I’ll show him what a real spike is.

“Aoi L/N, I swear upon the gods that are listening to this conversation,I—”

You stopped at the somewhat loud laugh that interrupted your words and thought. It was a nice laugh, you supposed as you looked at his smiling face, his mole almost stretched as his eyes crinkled.

“You have an amazing daughter, or should I say Cupid?” he teased, making you blush. God, you had blushed a lot.

“She’s like that, sorry.” you apologized sheepishly, giving your daughter a stern glare.

“Don’t worry, Ma’am, she reminds me of a friend from high school.” He gave a smile, as he looked back at those memories.

“Ah,” you nodded your head, as you patted Aoi’s head, “she get’s it from her uncle, I hope she won’t be a bother.”

He smiled again, ruffling Aoi’s head before he stood up.

“Children are never a bother,“ he said, “May I ask what class she’s in?“

“Ah, she’s in Class —“

“I can tell him myself!“ she huffed, crossing her arms, “I’m in Class 1-A!“

“That’s my class!“ he grinned, pointing to himself.

“Really, what a coincidence!“

“Your name’s Aoi right?“ he looked over at you, before looking at your five-year-old, “My names Sugawara Koushi, but you can all me Suga Senpai!“

Sugawara Koushi.

“Suga Senpai,“ she squeaked, looking up at him with glimmering eyes, “I like that.“

Sugawara Koushi.

“You do?“ he winked at her, “That’s great!“

“Sugawara Koushi! Ah—“ you said, loudly, pointing at him, “Karasonou’s setter. You were teammates with Nishinoya. Nishinoya Yuu? He talks about you all the time. So that’s why you—“

“Pardon?“ he looked at you oddly, his grin seemed forced, “Do I know you?“

“Hell yeah you know me!“ you glared at him, ignoring the stern stares of those around you, “You spiked a volleyball at my face, the first time I entered that gym?“

“You?“ Suga’s eyes grew wide.

“Me!“

“I’m sorry?” He didn’t seem really sorry, not as a small grin crept on his lips.

“Are you sorry you didn’t get a direct hit?“ you held your hips, pouting your lips, much to your daughter’s embarrassment.

“I’m sorry that you got hit.“ he tried to sound sincere, but the light in his eyes gave it away.

You stood there, quiet as your daughter watched the interaction, a blush blooming on her own cheeks.

“Fine. I’m not completely sorry.“ he chuckled, he glanced at this watch then too you.

“Class is starting soon,“ he trailed off, at your amused look, “No! Really, I swear I’m not trying to leave. Look!“ He shoved his wrist in your face.

You giggled, softly pushing it away.

“Well,Senpai, I can’t keep you can I.“ you ruffled Aoi’s hair one more time, “Make sure you don’t be a bother to Suga Senpai, okay?“

“Ma! I regret saying that.“ she looked disgusted, as she winced away from your touch, “Don’t be nice to Suga Senpai, I don’t want you to marry.“

“I —“

“Really, Aoi? Why not?“

She grimaced at Sugawara, who looked at you confused. You shrugged as you pushed Aoi towards him.

“Have a great day, sweetheart!“

“Okay!“ they both said at the same time. You looked at Suga, your eyebrows raised.

“I mean goodbye Mrs. L/N.“ You rolled your eyes, as Aoi gave one more disgusted look before, walking in front of him. Koushi gave you an abashed look before walking behind Aoi.

“Oi, Koushi!“ you yelled, disdained looks were hurled your way, you brushed it off. You grinned widely as he turned around. You wiggled your hand in the air, brandishing your empty ring finger.

“It’s Ms.L/N, by the way.“ you slyly told him before turning around and walking away. You heard the distant groan of your daughter and the angelic chuckles of Suga.

Maybe your daughter was Cupid after all.

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imomomi · 4 years

Photo

Summary: Y/N isn't too sure what it is about Kozume Kenma that makes her nervous, but avoiding him doesn’t seem to be working especially since Kuroo keeps bothering her...

Word Count: 1,607

Warnings: None :)

A/N: Just a cute little story that I had drafted. Part two will be up soon!

Y/N had been startled when Kuroo first asked her to come to their game. The second time, she grew increasingly wary that her classmate had a crush on her. The third time, Y/N declined much to his shock and her growing annoyance. It wasn’t that Kuroo was a bad person---he was nice when he wanted to be and smart enough to occasionally catch the mistakes she missed in her chemistry homework. But it was Kuroo Tetsurou. He was captain of the volleyball club, loud and boyishly charming in a way that had girls whispering about him in the locker rooms. To put it simply, he wasn’t Y/N’s type.

“Why not?” he pestered, poking her back with his pen in between math problems.

“It’s volleyball,” said Y/N dully.

“Yeah, duh,” he leaned forward, hair flopping in his face, “that’s kind of the point, Y/N.”

“I’d rather be at home,” she admitted.

“Doing what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Come one, it’s just one game,” said Kuroo pushing his lips out in a pout. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest in disgust.

“You’re very nice, Kuroo-san, but I’m not interested,” said Y/N bluntly. A twinge of regret filled her. Hopefully, no one around them had heard their conversation and started a rumor. She didn’t want to deal with gossip, especially Tokyo gossip that would spread to the neighboring schools like a wildfire and reach her brother’s ears at Tokyo University.

“Wh…what?” he sputtered, earning a look from their teacher. He winced, leaned down, and whispered, “I don’t like you.”

“Well…is it that Yamamoto kid?” she asked in horror, remembering the shy, stuttering first year who’d yelled some gibberish at her, “Or worse Yaku? He’s too short.”

“Say that to his face, I dare you,” Kuroo laughed, throwing his head back, “You’re the same height.”

“Whoever it is, the answer is no.”

“Oh, come on,” he begged.

“No. You have this meddling look and it makes me think of a bakeneko coming for my soul.”

“I don’t see it,” mused Kuroo, leaning forward and staring at her intently. Her brow wrinkled.

“What?”

“What makes you attractive? You’re like the witch of the waste before she got ugly,” he said, dodging her hand as she swiped at him.

The following Monday, Kuroo slams a Nintendo switch on her desk. Their game had ended in a win and Y/N was glad because it meant Kuroo wouldn’t be depressed and annoying, but now he was happy and annoying.

“Thank you?” said Y/N, turning the device over in her hands. She switched it on, the familiar logo lighting the screen.

“It’s not for you. Just hold on to it.”

“Isn’t this Kozume-san’s?” asked Y/N. Kuroo snorted, resting his head in the palm of his hand. His gaze sharped as she spoke his friend’s name.

“Kozume-san? He’s younger than you.”

“He’s mature,” Y/N murmured, “Though, Fukunaga is as well sometimes.”

“You’ve spoken to Kenma?”

“No. Of course not,” she scoffed, loading Animal Crossing as she spoke, “He comes by the café sometimes.”

“And you notice him?” Kuroo’s gaze sharpened, voice coming out in sly as a snake. She found she liked this side of him the least.

“He doesn’t shout and never loses. It’s hard not to notice.”

“You watch him long enough to know he never loses?”

“Is this Kozume-san’s? He’ll be upset that you took it,” she looked up, giving Kuroo a light glare and handed him the Switch, “Give it back.”

“And you protect his stuff? No wonder.”

“Give me five minutes of peace Kuroo. I don’t have the mental energy to handle you right now,” she said, falling silent. He attempted to pester her for a moment longer, before giving up. She wondered what it was that had made him take Kenma’s switch away. Usually when Kenma stopped by her grandfather’s internet café, he took a seat in a corner and spent all day tapping away at the keys. She hadn’t lied when she said she’d never seen him lose. Y/N was good at video games from constant exposure, but she played them the way a child practiced piano---out of boredom and familial expectation. Kenma breathed video games as if he were enjoying his last meal. Often, she worried that he’d pass out from exhaustion from not eating and would leave him snacks, but she doubted he even knew about it.

Clearing her thoughts from head, she pulled out her notebook and slumped forward.

“Here, neko-chan,” Y/N called out softly. She scattered two dried anchovies on the floor, looking for the familiar orange stray that was frequently caught on campus. A soft meow sound from the corner and Y/N pressed against the side of the school, careful to stay under the awnings and out of the rain as she coaxed the cat forward. A smile blossomed on her face as she took in the rounded belly of the cat. In a week or two, there would be kittens hiding somewhere on the school grounds.

“Y/N, come here,” Kuroo shouted, holding an umbrella up. Y/N looked at the onslaught of rain and considered her options: One, she could take Kuroo’s offer and walk home with him and Kenma. Two, she could brave the weather, catch a cold, and miss the next two days of school. Three, she could simply wait at the school until her grandfather or one of her brothers were available to pick her up.

“You’re seriously that against walking home with us,” Kuroo asked, leaning over her. His body cast a large shadow on the ground, dark hair and sharp eyes lending to the villainous atmosphere that surrounded him. Kenma offered a brief, silent nod looking as uncomfortable as she felt. The stray cat nudged her hand as if scolding her for not leaving yet. Y/N stood, pulled down the hem of her skirt, and straightened her blazer.

“I don’t mind walking home with Kozume-san,” she said, taking cover under Kuroo’s umbrella, “You, on the other hand, are far too loud.”

“I miss when he was quiet,” muttered Kenma’s, lips twitching at the affronted look on Kuroo’s face. His gaze disappeared from her line of view as he slumped forward, hair shielding him from view. Y/N frowned lightly, looking up to meet Kuroo’s thoughtful gaze. The soft pitter patter of rain filled the silence as they walked, but her worry grew. Was she making Kenma uncomfortable with her presence? On normal days, Y/N would sometimes spot them coming off the morning train, Kuroo animatedly talking about whatever nonsense he’d thought up while Kenma softly answered back. They’d always seemed close like brothers, teasing and irritating each other at every chance. But they both had fallen silent now, having an awkward conversation behind her with their eyes.

“You can drop me off at the bus stop,” said Y/N. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

“Oka-“

“It’s not out of our way,” Kenma said. His voice cut across Kuroo’s and broke the silence. Cat like eyes, gold and bright and sharp, met her own briefly before looking on ahead. Y/N nodded and bowed in the same motion, offering her thanks. His shoulders hunched up even more and she was suddenly grateful that Kuroo was here and stood between them.

Kuroo nudged her and tilted his head in Kenma’s direction. She scowled back and pulled the umbrella closer leaving one of his arms out in the rain.

“Kenma, tell Y/N she can call you Kenma.”

“Hmmm…oh…you can call me Kenma if you want,” his hands fiddled with the button on his umbrella, “T…there’s no need for honorifics.”

“Oh. I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. But, Kozume-san makes you sound like Hashimoto-sensei,” said Kenma. His eyes abruptly cut to hers again, the gold cutting through her like ice. She frowned, pressing a hand to her face and then narrowed her own eyes.

“She’s so old,” said Y/N, voice high-pitched in indignation. “I’m only a year older than you!”

“When were you born?” asked Kenma.

“March 1st.”

“Only seven months than,” he said, voice steadier, “Kozume-san makes me sound like an old man.”

“I was being polite,” said Y/N, huffing in anger.

“That’s our youth these days,” said Kuroo, grinning widely, “Rude and always on their devices.”

“Shut up,” both her and Kenma said at once. They turned to each other in surprise, a light blush blossomed across both of their faces. A tight itch of anxiety built in her chest, but Kenma, for the first time ever, didn’t look away and held her gaze. It seemed so small and insignificant, but Y/N felt as if a hand had tightened its hold on her chest.

Kuroo took over the conversation, pulling tiny strings that push and pull her and Kenma in different directions. She learned that he was an only child and Kuroo’s first friend in Tokyo. Y/N found herself telling them how she had two older brothers and lived with her grandfather who worked for an animation studio. Before she realized it, they’ve stopped in front of her house. Both boys gazed at the traditional awnings and bonsai tree with curiosity. She felt as if she should say something to cement their newly sprung friendship. Y/N lingered, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

“Your island was really pretty,” she offered quietly. Kenma coughed sharply.

“You…send me your switch code…I’ll let you visit it,” he turned around and walked down the street. Y/N frowned, looking at Kuroo.

“Uhh, just text me, I’ll give you his number,” he said over his shoulder as he jogged to catch up with Kenma.

#kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #kozume kenma #kozume x reader #kenma #haikyuu #kenma reader #kenma x y/n

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gottagobuycheese · 3 years

Photo

There has been lots of stress drawing lately so here is a sketchdump of baby Undyne (and co.) for your viewing pleasure! (Very long image description under the cut because I cannot be concise for the life of me. I am...very sorry in advance)

[ID: A collage of digital sketches, all of Undyne as a child (occasionally with a few others), mostly black-and-white except for two colored ones. In all of them, there is a bandage on her right cheek, and her hair is a messy flop on top of her head, with a tiny tuft pulled back into a ponytail that looks more like a sprig of grass or something. From left to right, top to bottom: young Undyne’s head turned slightly to the viewer’s right, biting her lip and staring hard at whatever’s in front of her, trying valiantly not to cry. It looks like she’s either staring at something really cute or stubbed her toe very hard. Next, her head tilted up and to the viewer’s left, wearing an expression of starstruck delight with actual stars in her eyes. Next, a full-body sketch of her hugging her legs to her chest and pressing her face against her knees, seeming to take up as little space as she can. She’s wearing dark shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt with three stripes across the torso and has bandages just below her left elbow and left knee. On her right is an echo flower saying, “I hate it down here” in wobbly letters. Next, a colored sketch of young Undyne sitting on young Papyrus’s shoulders, grinning as she triumphantly brandishes one of her teal glowy spears in her raised left hand. She has bandages on her right cheek, left knee, right elbow, and left forearm. Her right hand pushes down against Papyrus’s head, and he grimaces, trying to hold onto her flailing legs while also keeping their dubious balance. She is dressed in brown shorts and a yellow t-shirt with three stripes across the torso, two red and one purple in the middle, and a golden hairtie. Papyrus is wearing a green sweater with two turquoise stripes across the front, as well as a red scarf, brown pants, and yellow-and-white velcro shoes.

In the second row, the farthest left sketch is once again just her head, but this time wearing an extremely irritated scowl, much like her grown-up version in the game itself when you dodge her for too long during her fight and she gets fed up with you. Next, a full-body sketch of Undyne sitting on the ground with her right leg bent and her left extended, staring straight ahead at the viewer and looking surprised. She has bandages on her right cheek and left kneee, and in her right fist is a long stick. Next, just her head angled down, frowning sullenly and looking off to her right. Next, a larger sketch from her knees up. She is turned slightly to the viewer’s left and wears a dark backpack, with an additional bandage on her left forearm. Her hands are on her hips as she grins widely, eyes scrunched closed.

In the bottom row, the farthest left sketch is of Undyne facing away from the viewer at a 3/4 view towards the right (...if the artist is correctly remembering what a 3/4 view is). She appears to be staring at a young Alphys conversing with a ghost Mettaton, identified by his swishy ghost hair. Alphys is wearing large round glasses and suspenders over a striped t-shirt. Next, just Undyne’s head facing directly forward with a bashful look on her face, much like her in-game sprite when you ask her why she’s got that disgusting soda in her fridge if she doesn’t even like soda. There is a slight blush on her cheeks as she glances to her right, towards the previous drawing, which is partially encased in a thought bubble. Lastly, in the farthest right corner, a colored partial sketch of a tearful Undyne in profile, facing the right corner of the page, pouting and glaring at something out of the corner of her eye. In contrast to the other sketches, this Undyne does NOT have a bandage on her right cheek because the artist has the memory of a sieve, and she is wearing a purple t-shirt with yellow stripes and a green hairtie. Asgore’s right hand, with small claws, white fur, and toe beans (or hand beans), touches her lightly beneath the chin with two fingers, as if to tilt her head up to look at him. She’s not having it, though. Poor Dadsgore.]

#undertale #undyne #papyrus #alphys #mettaton #and I guess TECHNICALLY #asgore #...or was it #asgore dreemurr #oh well whatever it's just his hand anyway ksjdhfks #ut fanart #my attempts at art #what is it about finals season and comfort video games #usually it's ace attorney #but this time it was deltarune and then undertale #and now just. undyne #the hyperfixation is so real y'all I cannot remember the last time I was so single-minded about an individual character #266 FILTERED PAGES ON AO3 #WHY DID I PUT MYSELF THROUGH THAT #5 y e a r s worth of fics #no five and a half by now #but I did find some gems I had never encountered before so that was lovely #three new fic ideas and it's all just Undyne #YOU GOT YOUR PERFECT REVENGE OKAY I ADMIT IT I CAN'T THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE #but goddd I hope my writing brain turns on soon #not that I don't love drawing but Please I Have Things To Do #ALSO: if image descriptions don't work under the cut let me know and I'll go back and edit it so there's no cut!#I just figured since this one is really long I'd make it an opt-in system so you don't have to scroll as much #but in doing so I worry I may have rendered the whole attempt useless

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shiversdownyerspine · 4 years

Text

8. Warm

BEHOLD.

18+...kinda?

The last twinkles of dawn have faded as morning balances on a pin, almost ready to fall into day. It is at this edge that you finally rise and shine.

Except there is no rising and shining, no. There is no wakey wakey eggs and bakey. Why?

Because you are stuck. Stuck between slipping into the waking world or letting yourself drift back into blessed sleep. It's the strangest thing, you can't quite decide what you want so...you'll just have to float among the cozy clouds of indecision for the time being.

At least for five more minutes.

You're not the only one having trouble. Otto is still stretched out on the sofa with you on top of him, holding him captive. Not that that's what he'd consider to be the problem, however.

As it just so happens, after he had updated his brothers about your condition, he had shifted his position a little. Nothing much, just slipped a leg from its resting place on the cushions and the sofa arm to the floor below. Your furniture was just a little too short for a man of his height to stretch out properly on without his feet dangling off the edge.

This is when his little problem popped up; after he moved, you adjusted your position as well. Still settled between his legs and on his chest, you subconsciously decided to slide your leg up and over his thigh. Settling the pressure of your pelvis right into his.

Thank goodness his brothers were preoccupied; Axel was still in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast, and Oscar was distracted with the kittens on the other side of the coffee table. The cover that the thick quilt provided was also much appreciated.

He tried a couple times to shift his hips away, but you would follow him with every movement. Or more accurately, you had no choice but to follow with your leg hooked over his like this. The gentle rub and slide of your lower body against his was starting to become...distracting.

On his third valiant attempt you let out a soft sweet little sound into his chest, forcing the poor man motionless under you. While another part of him stirred.

That's it.

Determined, Otto grips the back of your bent knee with one hand while the other dips to grab the back of your thigh just under your rear. With a firm pull, he drags you further up his chest, away from his hips.

Your lungs fill with a deep breath as the abrupt movement has you tensing, your hand sliding up over his collarbone and back down to his chest as sleep pulls away from you.

Otto grunts, "Awake now?"

Groggy, your head lifts sluggishly from your living pillow, eyes half-lidded and hair fittingly tousled.

Your nose crinkles cutely, "...somethin' like that.

Large fingers brush some errant locks of your hair from your face before the man asks, "Still tired? Better?"

Pushing yourself up a bit on your forearms, you take a moment to hide a yawn in your shoulder before returning your attention to Otto, "...Both. It's expected; it usually takes a day...maybe?...for my sleep schedule to go back to normal."

The heel of your palm rubs carefully at your eye, "Bad cold spells aren't very common, but they pop up more around winter. Last longer too."

Otto's brow furrows as Axel interjects, "Still had weeks of cold, but it's different?"

Peering sleepily around the living room for the surly man with the slicked-back hair, you realize his voice drifted in from the kitchen.

"Well..during these weeks the cold spell was inconsistent. Most are. What's the phrase thing...like a roller coaster? Boat on the waves?"

The tallest brother nods his understanding, "Up and down."

"Mhm. Some nights I'm warmer and get more sleep, it's more manageable. Winter spells are more...constant. Less changing..."

Your head droops, "..and a lot more aggravating for it."

Somewhere during the conversation, Axel finishes up in the kitchen and takes a seat in the armchair next to the sofa. Meanwhile Otto's arms have returned to rest lightly on your back. Warm for the first time in weeks, your body refuses to even consider the thought of slipping away from the man. You're staying right where you are.

The fear prickles in the back of your mind that if you do move away, you'll find the cold waiting to cut right through the warmth and pick up where it left off. Of course you know it doesn't work like that, but the thought stubbornly lingers.

From across the coffee table, lying sprawled on the carpet with napping kittens, a hidden Oscar asks, "You deal with winter how?

With a jolt you glance around the room, fingers curling in the warm material of Otto's long johns while the man himself gives an amused huff.

"...Uh..It's..pretty much the same with the cold spells...but I wear more layers during the day and..and lots of blankets at night."

Still not able to see the youngest despite your efforts, you have to ask, "Oscar what are you doing down there?"

Silence.

As you lift yourself up more to see past the coffee table, you're greeted with nothing but carpet.

"...Well that's spook-"

Before you have a chance to finish your sentence, dastardly digits slip into your hair from behind and wiggle against your nape feathers, courtesy of a certain sneaky bastard. It's been a while since Oscar's last sneak attack, but this one takes the proverbial cake.

With a muffled squeal you duck back down to Otto to escape his mischievous brother, yanking the quilt up to buffer the back of your neck. Oscar smirks and leans back up, steadying the kitten that was slipping off his shoulder. Axel side-eyes him but pays little mind to his antics, his focus is mainly on the conundrum that is his empty mug.

The youngest grunts, "Revenge, du liten retas."

A single word in Oscar's declaration catches your indignant attention, "Revenge? For what you fiend?"

Axel stands to stroll to the kitchen to rectify his coffeeless issue, reminding you on the way.

"Babysitter."

Otto lightly rubs your back, nodding as if it was a necessary evil.

You grumble, "...Ah. Right. Well I hope everyone's thirst for vengeance has been sated."

With your righteous fury briefly mollified, you pout up at Oscar and his little accomplice. Thing 1 wobbles a bit, clinging to the fabric of his shoulder.

You allow yourself a moment to admire the man's slim turtleneck sweater paired with his button suspenders. The long-sleeved garment appears to be on the older side, as much of their apparel seems to be, but the deep pewter color doesn't appear to have faded yet. The form fitting material molds quite nicely to the brawn of his arms, showing off muscles earned from a life of hard work.

Really all three men can boast of possessing a certain physical prowess, of which Otto himself had demonstrated for you last night. You're not sure what had made your heart pound more, being carried by the man or being snuggled up against him to sleep.

With these thoughts rattling around in your head, you become slightly more conscious of the situation; of the feel of his body pressed to yours, of his hands at your back. That's one way to wake yourself up.

The tiny precariously perched feline serves a decent distraction from the attractiveness of these men. You sit up, rear hovering over Otto's lap to give some attention to Thing 1. Steadying yourself with a hand on the top of the sofa, you reach up to the kitten to give its tiny forehead a rub as Oscar leans down a bit to accommodate you.

"I don't think the kittens are quite ready to become official shoulder cats. They're not the most coordinated yet."

You can't help but be a worry wart with such itty bitty animals in your care.

Oscar broods, tilting his head to observe his cargo, "..Too small?"

With your little roller coaster metaphor still on the brain, you reply without thinking, "You must be this tall to ride the Oscar."

You hear a slight clattering in the kitchen as Oscar's eyes widen in surprise and naughty delight. Otto's hands twitch as he swallows thickly. Both brother's eyes trail the slope of your body from different angles.

The larger man's drifting thoughts backstab his good intentions and leave them to die in the gutter; admiring your legs spread either side of his hips, his gaze rests on a certain part of your anatomy that is hovering above a certain part of his anatomy, taunting him with possibilities...

One such possibility being you bare and ready, perched astride him just like this but waiting to be guided down to swallow up every inch-

The snicker from Oscar thankfully breaks the spell Otto is under, the big man scowling as he watches the smaller lean slightly towards your arm. He wouldn't...

Oscar dips his head, lips brushing your skin as his eyes flick to Otto before settling back on you. After finding the two of you cuddled up together and his brother getting handsy? Oh, he absolutely would.

He grins, "Warning, will get wet."

With that, his teeth press gently to the inside of your wrist in a loose open mouthed bite as something wet and warm flicks over your skin.

You pull your arm away from his mouth with a yelp, face resembling a tomato as you stutter, "Oscar! That's-I...W-what, do I need a spray bottle for you?!?"

The man's face is radiating satisfaction and a playfulness that has your stomach somersaulting. You've never sprayed your animals, finding other methods more beneficial for behavior correction, but at least it could have offered you some form of retribution in this unexpected scenario.

You squeak when Otto grasps your waist to remove you from his person and settle you on the cushions and quilt. His feet plop down on the carpet as he stands at his full intimidating height, glaring down at his brother from where he stands behind the sofa.

Eyes locked on his aggressively posturing brother, Oscar slowly removes the kitten from his shoulder and offers him to you to take. Which you do, gaze flicking between the two men as tension builds.

Oscar snaps that tension with ease, growling, "Hon smakar söt, som honung."

And with that mysterious sentence, the youngest brother's instigation is successful. He bee-lines for the kitchen in a sprint, presumably to escape out the back door to the garden as Otto's heavy gait follows close behind.

Taking a moment to calm your racing heart, you juggle your choices of getting dressed or grabbing some food and coffee. Your rumbling stomach and lingering sleepiness makes the decision for you. Forming a makeshift nest with the quilt, you plop Thing 1 down, smiling as he settles in contentedly. You don't even need to look for Thing 2 as the kitten quickly scrambles up the side of the sofa to join his sibling for more naptime.

Tiptoeing to the kitchen, you peep in to find Axel standing at the screen door, sipping his mug of coffee. Watching his brothers' antics no doubt. Not wanting to startle the man, however unlikely given his occupation, you murmur, "Axel? Please tell me there's more coffee."

The man looks over his shoulder, nodding and gesturing to the table where a full steaming mug waits just for you. A hearty plate of some sort of breakfast scramble consisting of eggs, tomatoes, sausage, potatoes, cheese, and herbs sits beside your drink. Touched by his consideration, you shyly express your gratitude and take a seat.

Before you dig in, something itches at your senses and you peer up to see the man still watching you with a small smirk. Your eyes narrow, looking down at the offering and back up as a feeling of familiarity pokes your brain.

Waaaiiit a minute...

"...I'm being bribed aren't I."

The smirk that spreads on his face is all the answer you need. You cover your mouth as giggles struggle to break out. It takes a second or two to compose yourself...at least to some degree.

"I'm guessing you have some questions for me?"

Probably some harder questions, given the new information you've revealed. You stubbornly hold on to your good mood, not wanting to let it spoil.

At the sound of Oscar's hollering, Axel returns his attention back to whatever unfortunate fate has befallen his kin.

He suggests you finish breakfast first. You don't need him to tell you twice.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Revenge, du liten retas- Revenge, you little tease. Hon smakar söt, som honung- She tastes sweet, like honey.

#the swedes #ikea mafia #tua swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua axel #tua otto #tua oscar #axel x reader #otto x reader #oscar x reader

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presentmicsongbird · 4 years

Text

Jealous Bakugo x reader

“Oi dumbass!”

You groaned as you heard the voice call out from behind you. You haven’t left his side for more than two minutes and already he was on your tail.

“Hey, didn’t you hear me squirt?! Don’t ignore me, y/n!”

“Uh...y/n, I think kaachan wants to-“ you cut Midoriya off from stating the very obvious. You knew very well he wanted to talk to you. But after the stunt he pulled yesterday, you were determined to give him the cold shoulder until he gave you a proper apology.

“I know, Deku.” You spoke at a volume that you knew could be heard over Bakugo’s screaming. ”Just ignore him, I’m not in the mood to talk to Pomeranians with anger issues.” You took a glance at said Pomeranian only to see him glaring daggers at both you and the green haired boy.

You inwardly smirked as you turned once more to head into class, an angry boyfriend following soon after. As soon as the three were seated, the explosion hero decided once more to try and get you to talk to him, but was soon silenced when Aizawa entered the room.

“Alright everybody, stop talking. I’ve got a few announcements to make for your next training, so listen up.”

The homeroom teacher’s words fell onto deaf ears, Bakugo’s ears to be exact…All he could think about was the way you leaned on your desk, head resting on your hand as you listened intently to what Aizawa sensei was saying. Your slender legs crossed beneath your desk, your foot tapping away at a beat only you can hear, a stray hair tickled your ear, but you made no move to brush it away. Your soft lips were kept in a straight line, smiling slightly at a joke Kaminari made.

wait…you laughed at that Pikachu’s joke?

A low growl rumbled in his throat, clenching his fists to keep him from acting up in front of their teacher. Fortunately, he finished his announcement, and turned to leave to let the next teacher in. The moment he left, Katsuki sharply turned his head to glare at the blonde, only to see him still making jokes and getting more quiet giggles out of you.

Now THAT…made his blood boil even more. You were HIS! HE’s the one who should be making you laugh, not that short-circuit blondie.

Kaminari must’ve felt the burning at the back of his head because as soon as his eyes met Bakugo’s, all color drained from his face and quickly shut his mouth. Whether it was the tiny explosions blasting in his hands or the daggers he was glaring at his now trembling body, it definitely got his point across too

Stay. Away. From. You.

The ash blonde student smirked as his quirk died down, but it was soon wiped off his face as his eyes met your e/c ones. No longer did they hold the laughter you had a few seconds ago, your lips now turned into a scowl as you glared back at your boyfriend.

Honestly, you couldn’t even wait until after School?

Realizing his mistake, you see him ‘tsk’ and turn his head away from both of you. Thankfully, the new teacher came in and told the class to take out your textbooks. You sighed and shook your head, wondering if it was really a good idea to keep giving him the silent treatment.

Wait…yes…

Yes it was.

As the teacher went over the lesson, your mind wandered to the events that lead up to this. Which, surprisingly, was too much for one day.

Let’s see…

The two of you had decided to go on a date yesterday since it was the weekend and neither of you had and homework. Bakugo even suggested (more like demanded) to meet up at the cafe early to get the best seats in the back. You found it really sweet, even though he practically growled it out thought the phone call.

Still, the morning went without a hitch, you got your favorite drinks, your favorite comfy spot in the back, and even the little dessert that was always sold out when you came by after school. Heck, Bakugo didn’t even make his usual comments about the drinks and treats being too sweet, or too powdery. He even asked you if you had wanted more. Since it was too early for the regular customers coming in, you said yes. You believed that nothing could go wrong today.

Oh boy…why didn’t you knock on wood?

After ordering one more cookie, (to save for later), the two of you wanted to watch the new movie that came out just a few weeks back. You were so excited that, you hadn’t even noticed one of the baristas coming over to your table.

“Here’s your order, hope you enjoy.” You looked away from Katsuki to grab the little paper bag from him, smiling as you said your thanks. He of course smiles back politely. Before he could say another word, Bakugo beat you to it.

“Alright, that’s enough twerp. Quit eyeing my damn date and go back to your job.”

The barista was taken aback and struggled to say a shaky apology. Poor thing looked like he was about to pee himself. He turned back to face you, about to apologize again, but Bakugo’s voice cut through again.

“OI, I SAID BEAT IT KID! Or should I get my point across another way?” Tiny explosions boomed from his outstretched hand. It wasn’t enough to trigger the fire alarms, thank goodness, but was more than enough to send the barista running.

Bakugo, of course, laughed it off and continued to ask what time you two should watch the movie. You looked at him in disbelief.

“Bakugo!”

“What? He was looking at you like a piece of candy. Be more thankful I got him off your back.” He shrugged his shoulders, while continuing to munch on his treat.

“He wasn’t and you know it.” You countered. “Poor guy was just handing me my order. You didn’t have to use your quirk, geez.” You slumped on your seat and crossed your arms as your boyfriend took your tray and dumped out the trash.

“Alright, let’s go. We got a few hours before the movie start, but might as well get going if we wanna buy tickets. We can eat at that buffet restaurant for lunch and then have dinner at my place, how does that sound? I’ll cook.” You sighed and got up from your seat, taking the cookie bag while avoiding Bakugo’s gaze.

“Sure, C’mon.” You glanced up only to see his red eyes widen, before shaking his head and following you out the door.

On the walk to the train station, avoided his gaze even more and turned your head when he got up in your face. The explosion quirked student tried to coax you to get you to talk to him, but you stayed silent. You heard him sigh, then moved to stand in front of you, causing you to crash into his chest.

“Hey! What’s the big id-“

“Oh, now you finally talk.” You blushed and pouted up at him. He bent down to your height with his hands in his pockets. “What’s your issue now, squirt?” He asked while gently flicking your forehead.

“You were mean to the barista and you didn’t even apologize!”

“Apologize? Seriously? You’re still mad about that?”

“Yes, I’m still mad! You didn’t have to use your quirk back there, and he most certainly WASN’T flirting with me.”

“What’re you saying? Are you actually taking his damn side?!”

“I never said that! I’m just saying you didn’t have to be mean to him!”

You pretty sure both of you were screaming at this point. You had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and there’s no doubt that you’ve already attracted the attention of a crowd.

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t talk to, Bakugo! And you honestly can’t expect me not to talk to boys other than you!”

“Yes I can!”

“No. You. Can’t!”

“I’m your boyfriend, y/n! It’s my job to keep pervs like him away from you. You’re mine!”

“Pervs sure! I can accept that. But NOT friggin polite baristas who was just handing me my order!”

“Damnit, y/n, can’t you STOP with that barista crap?” Katsuki’s eyes were completely full of rage now. “What, do you like him now or somethin? Is that it?”

“WHAT?!” Seriously, where in All Might’s name did he get that from? “No. I don’t! ARGH! Why can’t stop being so controlling?”

“I’ll stop being controlling when YOU stop being a damn brat for once and just do what I tell you?!”

Oh…

That. Was. IT!

Before you could blink, a loud slap was heard, and you felt a slight stinging in your palm. Opening your eyes that you didn’t even know were closed, you saw Bakugo’s head turned to the side, eyes blinking as he let your actions sink in.

You felt a slight guilt in your gut, but you pushed it back down.

“Y/n, I-“

“You can forget about today, Bakugo. I’m going home.” Before you could let him follow, you turned around and threw the paper bag at his face, running fast and as far away from him as possible. You made sure, he didn’t see a single tear roll down your cheek.

You had put your phone on silent the moment you got home, not wanting it to keep dinging while you cried your eyes out.

Who did he think he is anyway? He was right, he is your boyfriend. But that gave him no excuse to say what he did back there. He’s just...just...

“ARRGHHH!” Your screams were muffled by the pillow your were crying on, thankful no one was home today. Needless to say...you really shouldn’t have thrown that cookie at him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the lunch bell ringing loudly. You shook your head and blinked away the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“Hey y/n, you coming along?” Asked Uraraka.

“You guy go on ahead, I’m gonna do fix some stuff.”

“Alright, see you later!” She waved while walking off with Iida and Deku.

It was a lie, obviously …Since it was lunch time, Maybe...Bakugo would finally give you a proper apo-

He’s gone...

You really should’ve known better. You sighed once more and packed your books, wondering if maybe…it’d be best if you…well…you DID slap his face in the middle of the sidewalk…and threw the cookie at him…and.

“Oi squirt!” You jumped in your seat and quickly grabbed your chest. “Geez, you’re gonna be a future hero, but you’re get scared of me going up in your-“

He stopped talking once he noticed your angry glare once more. Katuski grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck, turning away and avoiding your heated gaze.

“Listen…just….I’m sorry, okay?”

Oh?

“I know…I was a jerk yesterday, and…YES! I didn’t have to say those damn things to the barista…and you.”

OH!

“It was a dumb thing to say and you’re not a brat. You’re not a puppet for me to control either. ” He staggered with his words, his voice almost sounded like it was cracking…but Bakugo still didn’t meet your eyes.

You had to keep yourself from smiling. Guess he had it in him after all. Before you could tell him that he didn’t need to say more, he continued on.

“I was just…Jealous….I hated the fact that other guys were looking at you and making you smile, and that I’M not the one at the receiving end of it.”

“Bakugo-“

“You should be allowed to talk to your other friends…even though they’re not me. And I understand if…if you…

“Baku-“

“IF YOU WANNA BREAK UP WITH ME, THEN I GET IT! I just wanted to apologize for…well….everything…and for the other times I-“

“BAKUGO!”

“WHAT?!”

You pulled at his collar and pulled in him for a kiss, Bakugo freezing for a split second before returning it. He pulled away first.

“W-Wait…why did yo-“

“You’re forgiven too, hot head.” You finally gave him the smile he loved so much and gave his cheek a quick peck. “And…I’m sorry too for slapping you in the face and throwing the cookie bag at you.” He chuckled, and kissed your forehead.

“It’s fine squirt, I deserved it. I’ll buy you another one next time.”

“Does this mean, you’ll apologize to the barista too?”

“Don’t push it.” He’ll cross that bridge when he gets there….probably.

#bakugo x reader #jealous bakugo #bnha x reader #angry bakugou #soft bakugou

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rvmmm21 · 4 years

Text

[ V V S her diamonds ]

summary : seungwan is an idiot, joohyun is an idiot. cupid rips his hair out in frustration.

small note : please yell at galaxygerbil for me. for putting justin freaking bieber’s ‘anyone’ in my head on loop for centuries and for the hectic mess that i am when i read their fics. this is an attempt the only genre i have been skirting around because i just cannot read/write angst. if this ages decently, yay.

p.s. characters are from my first wenrene university au (you know who i am?) so it’s identical in regards to characters and the au itself, but a different plot.

tw : slight angst (but it’s all cupid’s), perpetual urge to scream.

[senior!irene x junior!wendy]

. . .

[5:15p.m.] Seungwan rushes past the temptation of bookshops, restaurants and arcades. She silently curses when she very nearly falls flat on her face from an uneven bit of pavement.

. . .

“Seungwan-ah!” Yerim calls out, retracting her debit card from the exasperated cashier and waving Seungwan towards her. “Come, hurry up and order something.”

The blonde shyly weaves through the crowded little arcade cafe, eliciting pointed looks and grunts from hungry patrons. She leaves the ‘I-dare-you-to-challenge-my-best-friend-right-now’ stare to Yerim.

Seungwan reaches the counter with a huff. “What are you guys getting?”

“I got bibimmyeon.” The younger glances over her shoulder at Seulgi who’s scrolling through her phone at the table in the corner. “Uh, i think Seul got pork mandu.”

Seungwan holds up two fingers and a polite smile. “Two bibimmyeon, please.”

The cashier inputs their orders with a click of a button, swiping Yerim’s card through the reader.

The duo shuffle away with a number card on a metal stand, heading for the table under the stairs. A harassed Seulgi barely notices her friends sitting down.

“You’re here?” She clicks her phone off and begins rummaging through her Muji pencil case for a pencil. “What did you get? I think we’re pulling an all-nighter.”

“Bibimmyeon, same as Yerimie.” Seungwan grimaces, more at the possibility of another sleepless night. But such is university life. Plus, she’d much rather her friends keep her accountable than procrastinate alone. Especially on projects that weighed so heavily on her final grade.

Yerim elbows Seungwan, who suddenly notices she’s the last to get her materials out.

Like clockwork, the three get to work, the clicking of their keyboards overtaken by frantic plastic clicking of various 90’s arcade machines.

Thankfully, food is served right as they’re wrapping up chapter three, the worst one of them all. Seungwan, Seulgi and Yerim scarf down their food like girls ten years starved, focused on feeding the demands of their stomachs rather than their assignments.

. . .

The sun retires past the blue-purple horizon, leaving three burnt out students standing outside a closed cafe, clutching laptops and notebooks in the dark. They hastily make plans again for next week’s study date, sweeping the forgotten all-nighter under the rug, all too eager to head home and shut the door in the faces of their due dates and exams.

“Same time next week?” Seungwan asks after a yawn.

Seulgi shakes her head, squinting at her calendar app. “I have dance tryouts then. Can we do Thursday instead? We can meet at the same time then, or even earlier.”

Yerim agrees to everything, seconds away from falling asleep on her feet.

“Alright,” the blonde sighs, plugging the aux cable into her phone and flipping through her Spotify. “See you guys then. Yerimie bring your own highlighter next time.”

Everyone mumbles, turning their own ways.

. . .

“YAH!”

The rude exclamation of a tall, red-faced boy while his smaller friend stands meekly behind him blares attention bells to the furthest corner of their university cafeteria.

Seungwan pauses mid-chew to shush a pouting Yerim, who’s upset that her funny dog story was interrupted right as it was getting good. They face the commotion and Seungwan beholds a pair of steely eyes gazing boredly from underneath the brim of a black Yankee baseball cap.

That signature glare belongs to none other than Bae Joohyun, someone the junior recognises instantly from (truthfully much more than) one of their shared literature electives. And of course, beside her stands her equally as intimidating friends, Park Sooyoung and Kim Jennie.

And the hothead is the only person who’d be stupid enough to challenge a trio like that: fresh campus casanova, Wong Lucas. Seungwan’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, but she isn’t surprised.

Everyone’s attention has been commanded now, but if the boy cared, he didn’t show it.

“Yah, freshman.” Jennie snaps, gripping her mocha latte and stepping to the front while Sooyoung suspiciously eyes him and his friend. “Speak with some respect. What’s wrong with you! We’re your seniors.”

The meek girl behind him looks terrified, curly mousy-brown ponytails shadowing the cold sweat visibly beading on her forehead. She almost moves to say something but Lucas stops her with a firm hand, turning back to continue berating the girl in the cap.

“You couldn’t even let her talk?!” The irony is lost on him, as a frown settles on his arched eyebrows, frustration frosting over his features. “She told me you rejected her before she could finish. Did you have to speak so rudely? Do you know how hard it is to confess?”

A hint of apprehension creeps into Sooyoung’s expression and Jennie fights the urge to splash her drink right in his face. Followed by the cup.

Bae Joohyun simply resists a yawn.

“Can you move? We’re busy.”

It’s the first time she’s spoken since the outburst, and Seungwan feels her palms sweat.

The girl behind Lucas finally speaks. Her eyes are glossy and wide, overflowing with hurt and betrayal. “It’s okay, s-sunbae. B-but I… I was hoping we could still–”

“I’m not interested,” comes the cut and dry reply.

A bystander innocently tries to diffuse the rising tension. He lightly places his hand on the boy’s shoulder, darting his gaze between the two teams. “Alright I think that’s enough.” He turns to Lucas. “No need to be so hostile, be a gentleman and apologise.”

“Whatever.” Lucas irritatedly shrugs him off, piercing stare fixed on the senior who couldn’t look more disinterested. “You deserve it. You think you can just talk however you want just because you’re pretty? Self-centred trash, fix your attitude first.”

Sooyoung’s jaw drops, Jennie goes wide-eyed, and Yerim is fumbling around with the record button as quietly as she can.

Seungwan’s heart quickens in pace.

Joohyun doesn’t even realise she’s lunging forward.

. . .

The cafeteria disperses with hushed whispers and repeated glances over shoulders until it’s just Seungwan, Seulgi and Yerim left. They’re glued to their seats, astounded at the sight of Wong Lucas on the ground, clutching his nose in pain while Song Yuqi stands frozen to the spot, paled in horror at witnessing her crush just sock her older brother square in the face.

It’s so silent save for the moaning and groaning from the floor.

“Did you see that?” Seungwan murmurs back at her friends, unaware that her eyes glint with obvious admiration. “That was kinda cool.”

Seulgi’s lip quirks in disbelief. “It’s definitely broken. Look at her, she’s insane.”

“Right?” Yerim snickers, already posting the video clip to their group chat. “Insanely co-ordinated. Best thing that’s happened all day.”

“I’m gonna offer her a Band-Aid,” Seungwan spontaneously decides, ignorant to the horror plastered on both her friends’ faces.

Yerim makes tiny, urgent neck slice motions while Seulgi quickly yanks an eager Seungwan down hard by the sleeve.

“Ow, Seul!” The blonde mouths, brows furrowing in annoyance.

The dancer takes the opportunity to knock some sense into her. “Seriously, are you crazy?” she whispers harshly, her own nerves flaring at the thought of being overheard. “It’s an insult! She’s going to kill you.”

Both girls try to stop their friend from making the dumbest decision of her life, but Seungwan frees herself from their frantically grasping limbs, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading to the crime scene.

She reaches just in time to feel Lucas brush angrily past them and out the doors. Yuqi slinks after him, casting Joohyun an apologetic look.

Way to get rejected twice, Seungwan sympathises. Poor kid, with a sibling who’s an idiot Hercules.

It takes all her willpower to wrestle her racing heartbeat and her self-preservation instinct into submission. The junior approaches with care, trying with everything she has to convey that she comes in peace.

Joohyun shifts her focus to her and Seungwan’s legs almost go jelly, but something about Joohyun draws her in like a spell. She hated playing good samaritan in situations like these, but it isn’t as though Seungwan hasn’t been dying to talk to her impossibly attractive senior since the first day of class.

You miss any chance you don’t take, right? Yes, obviously.

“H-hi sunbaes,” Seungwan greets with a cautious bow. This is the closest she’s been to the black velvet trio and it’s certainly leaving an impression. She doesn’t even have to look back to know that her block-head friends are gawping at the scene, wondering how their loser of a friend is so okay with dying at the age of twenty two.

Blinking, Seungwan washes her thoughts of how dazzling Joohyun looks, even when she looks like she’s out for blood. Especially when she looks like she’s out for blood.

Suddenly remembering the other reason she came over here, the small blonde holds out some alcohol wipes and Band-Aids like gifts. “Are you h– are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Joohyun responds curtly. She surely knows her icy stare crumples Seungwan’s insides like butter paper. Perhaps that’s why she does it. “It’s over.”

“A-are you sure your fist knows?” The junior tries, all too aware the girl in front of her could have her wiped off the face of the earth with the snap of her fingers.

A scowl ghosts across Joohyun’s face before she drops her eyes to where her fist is still clenched and trembling slightly.

Seungwan fills the silence with an awkward chuckle. “Just thought you might want to clean up after the battle.”

Jennie and Sooyoung’s unimpressed looks are replaced with shock when Joohyun actually accepts a wet wipe from the younger’s shaking hands. Her eyes are pinned to the wipe as it glazes over bruised, rosy knuckles.

The shorter girl internally swoons. Her mere offering has been received! – and not just received regularly, but received with a frosty ‘thank you’, to top it all off.

As the three seniors are leaving, Seungwan secretly prays that Yerim used her brains and recorded this moment too.

She flinches out of her thought bubble when Seulgi lands a palm clumsily on her shoulder.

“Wah, daebak,” the Cadbury-haired dancer congratulates her crazy, bodacious friend. “So what was that, like your first date or something?”

Yerim scoffs, hooking her arm around Seulgi’s bicep and dragging her out. “Come on Seul, we might as well start eating bugs and singing ‘Can You Feel The Love Tonight’. Wannie unnie can’t see us anymore.”

Seungwan rushes after her best friends, picking up her pace when they break into a power walk to the bus station.

“Yerm-ah! Did you get that? Please tell me you got that!”

#red velvet #wenrene #wendy #irene #seulgi #yerim #university au #light angst #slow burn #sorry lucas i love you #you are a true casanova #red velvet writing #yuqi you stay faithful to your soyeon okay #jennie has a latte always i swear

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lordrethandus · 3 years

Text

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 6

Festival ( @daily-writing-challenge, @syrahnbloodfeather )

World: Warcraft

Diing! Doong! Diing! Doong!

The cathedral bells have startled Syrahn every hour since midday. This was the seventh time since she was ripped away from her peaceful slumber, and it would be another three before she tried to fall asleep again. The little girl cupped her hands over her ears and prayed the ringing in her head would leave as quickly as it came, but she was never so fortunate. Her eldest brother Kiash once told her the cathedral was going to be torn down soon on Lord Kael’kro’s request, and no one was more eager for that than Syrahn.

She sat at the end of the great hall, hugged tightly by an ebon gown and a gold crimson corset with a gold choker dangling around her neck; as per customs each person of any house is encouraged to wear their family’s colors, and the little girl was eager to match with her brothers and sisters. She watched elves waltz around the dance floor in tune with the band in the distance, but she was hardly interested. They were either old men with thin grey hair or too bland to look at for too long. But in the corner of her eye, one man stood out above all the rest.

Sir Renart Andu was easily the fairest elf Syrahn had ever seen. His armor looked like solid gold and likened to a fierce dragonhawk coiled around him, starting from his left thigh with the dragonhawk’s head resting silently on his right shoulder. His crown of silver hair glimmered in the light, setting the little girl’s heart a flutter. He was the knight she envisioned when Viridias would read her stories. She clutched her chest the moment he stopped to look in her direction with a slight smile she wouldn’t soon forget, and she questioned if the Gods were favoring her this enchanting night. She quickly ran her tiny hands through her thick auburn hair to let it cascade down her left shoulder just like her sister Miriam did, hoping it would be enough to gain his undivided attention. Sir Renart approached with a commanding presence, and Syrahn swore she would faint if he called her name.

“You must be Lady Lirindas. Word around the hall is you aren’t particularly enjoying yourself tonight.” He spoke with a voice as smooth as silk. Syrahn’s heart dropped into her stomach while she shot her wild glare back and forth between this dreamy knight and her undeserving teen sister. Lirindas was wearing a similar gown, corset, and choker, but she looked so uncomfortable in all of it; she never had a taste for the finer things in life, and was therefore forced into this getup by their older sisters. Lirindas blinked while she gazed fearfully up at the towering man, hesitant to speak.

“W-well I…” She choked on her words, unsure how to respond. Sir Renart flashed his perfect teeth and extended his hand, sparking a flame in Syrahn’s stomach.

“May I trouble you with a dance?” He was so polite, and Lirindas was so awkward; she had the audacity to ignore his gesture and turn to look up at Viridias.

“Go ahead, Liri.” She commanded, nodding to her. “It's rude to deny him his request.”

Syrahn couldn't take it anymore. “What about me?!” The little girl squeaked, crossing her arms with her bottom lip sticking out at them. “I wanna dance with Mister Renart more than she does!”

“I'll dance with you after your sister, okay?” Renart winked while Lirindas sheepishly took his hand. Syrahn was not satisfied with that answer, but his smile prevented any more words from slipping from her tongue. She watched in furious envy at the Knight taking Lirindas into the crowd. He held her right hand firmly yet gently, and placed his left hand on her waist; out of the corner of Syrahn’s eyes she saw her quiet brother Vraln lurking in the darkness on the upper balcony of the great hall, watching Lirindas and this touchy stranger like a protective bear watching his cubs play in the forest. He was a man of few words, but the hardened scowl plastered on his face told Syrahn all she needed to know. Lirindas stumbled during their waltz often, and although she was too far away to hear, it was clear she was apologizing while she avoided eye contact.

“Patience, sweetie.” Viridias brushed Syrahn’s hair away and gave her a wet smooch on her forehead. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”

“But it's not fair!” She protested. “Lirindas doesn't even like dancing! Look she's stepping all over his feet!”

“It would be too difficult to dance with you. You would barely be able to stand higher than his waist.” Viridias didn't like the idea of an older man dancing with Syrahn, especially after seeing the little girl's failed attempt to seduce him. “Perhaps it would be better to dance with someone closer to your age? His brother seems cute enough, don't you think?”

“No.” Syrahn pouted, glowering across the hall to see Sir Renart’s younger brother standing with his back pressed against the wall. Nothing could convince her that Rethandus Andu was worth dancing with; he was so small and nervous beside his father, threatening to shrink away and vanish into thin air if a woman so much as looked in his direction. In her frustration Syrahn vowed to never dance with him until he became a shining knight like his coveted brother. “Andy Andu is the stupidest name I've ever heard.”

Viridias glanced down at her with disappointment but said nothing, silently wishing she would take interest in boys closer to her own age. A guard stepped forward from behind and whispered something in her ear, stirring her to rise from her seat. “I must be off, Syrie. Stay on your best behavior.”

“Buh-? Where are you going?” The girl asked, tugging at her sister's gown.

“Family business that needs my attention.” Viridias smiled, gently squeezing her hand; it was the same vague answer she would always get when her older siblings didn't want her involved, and whenever she heard those words it only made the little girl angry. She was a Bloodfeather just as much as they were, but they sheltered her from family affairs like she didn't belong. Viridias turned to the guard and gave him a modest curtsey. “See that our youngest angel doesn't get into any trouble for me.”

“Yes, Lady Bloodfeather.” The guard glanced down at Syrahn through his plated greathelm, compelling her to stick her tongue out defiantly. She had no interest in sitting here to wait and see if Sir Renart would make true to his word; he had broken her sacred trust already. She needed to escape and see what she was missing, but in order to do that she needed this guard out of her hair.

“Excuse me, Mister Guardsman.” She cleared her throat and mimicked her sister's elegance as best she could. “Could I please have some wine?”

“Absolutely not. Your brothers would put my head on a spike if I have you alcohol.” He grumbled, resting his gauntlets on his belt.

“Then perhaps some juice or water?” Syrahn prodded, ignoring his irritated groan.

“Your legs broken? Why can't you get it yourself?” The little girl lifted her gown just high enough to flash her shiny new boots.

“Viri tied my boots too tight and now my feet ache.” She lied. “It hurts to stand on them right now.”

The guard gave her an indifferent huff and waved his hand dismissively. “Didn't seem to be a problem when you wanted to dance with Prince Charming over there.”

Syrahn puffed her cheeks out while she bit her tongue, fearing she would say something that would ruin her chance of escape. “Mister Guardsman…” She started through clenched teeth. “Please… my throat is itchy and I am very thirsty…”

“Fine.” He said, sending a rush of relief through her; but that sensation was short lived, replaced with startled confusion the moment a silk ribbon was draped over her head and tightened around her waist and arms.

“W-what are you doing?” Syrahn squeaked for the second time tonight, glaring angrily up at this bold man.

“Making sure you stay put while I fetch your Majesty something to drink.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and the illusion of calm elegance she worked so hard to maintain immediately vanished the moment he tied her to her chair. She kicked and flailed wildly in a desperate attempt to free herself, but she lacked the strength to tear through the silk ribbon, and the weight to topple her own chair. The guard’s laughter rang in her ears while he vanished into the crowd toward a waitress. She was able to regain her composure and calm down once he was out of sight, convinced her act was enough for him not to suspect her plan. Slowly but surely she wiggled the ribbon up to her chest, and without a moment to spare she began furiously nibbling.

Syrahn’s tiny elven teeth were still sharp enough to cut through the silk with relative ease. With a surge of her savage strength she ripped through the remaining threads keeping her bound to the chair, jumped to her feet and looked around for the closest exit. “Hey! HEYYYY!” The guard shouted, clutching a bottle of milk in his hands. “Where do you think you're going?!”

Syrahn’s mind raced while she whipped around and clutched her gown tightly. She wasted no time using her size to her advantage, allowing her to slip into the crowd and disappear under the tide of colorful dresses and nameless faces. He followed in pursuit but it was no use; in his encumbering armor he couldn't keep pace, and her auburn crown of hair dipped between two gowns and vanished like a leaf in the wind.

#dwc2021 #day62021 #ijirothehero #syrahnbloodfeather

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kingsofneon · 3 years

Note

“Don’t cover your mouth…I like hearing you.” acebo or maybe maracebo idk they’re both great, but i can see ace being the one that gets the most frustrated about how damn QUIET sabo always tries to be. his whole goal basically being: i’m going to make you scream or just trying to coax sabo into being as vocal as possible. maybe playing with bondage and a vibrator idc adsljghk

Ace opens the door with a flushed face and a bright grin, eyes glittering with evidence of exertion. “Oh, hey!” he rocks up onto his tiptoes and steals a quick, biting kiss that leaves Marco tingling, a dopey smile flittering onto his lips.

“Hey yourself,” he says. “Good day?”

“Yeah, got heaps done around the house. You ready for dinner? I was thinking pizza, really camp out for movie night.”

Marco shrugs off his coat, slinging it over the back of the couch. “Sounds great.” Then, he cocks his head, a small frown coming to his face as a thought occurs to him. “Where’s Sabo?”

“Oh.” Ace’s grin turns into a scowl, and Marco gets ready to wince and figure out which side he’ll be playing peacekeeper for today. “No, he’s not allowed to join us today. He’s being a shithead.”

“Allowed?” Marco asks, the specific word choice giving him an inclination of where Ace’s annoyance has led Sabo tonight.

“Allowed,” Ace confirms, and then pushes Marco's chest until he reaches the couch, knees folding underneath him until he thumps onto the pillows. Ace leans down and gives him another kiss. “He was making fun of me for being loud when you guys tease me. And then he was being a dick about not making a sound even after I asked him to this morning.”

“So…?”

“So I’m just giving him a taste of what it’s like.”

At Marco’s questioning look, Ace sighs and grabs Marco’s hand, pulling him back off the couch and through the house. “It’s not anything hard,” he grumbles, and shoves open the door to their office. Marco feels like the breath has been kicked out of him.

Sabo’s not a mess; not yet, but Marco can see the faint evidence of sweat tracks along Sabo's biceps and his cheeks, his body flushed a faint pink. Ace has left Sabo the dignity - indignity, all things considered - of boxers, but they’re sharply tented and very obviously wet as he jerkily humps the air. A faint whirr gives away what has Sabo squirming, but this is almost tame compared to what they normally put him through. “Why does he find it hard?”

“No gag,” Ace says proudly, arms folded. “His fucking choice to keep being quiet.”

Sabo’s wanton expression morphs into a grimace at the sound of Ace’s voice, and he cracks his eyes open, glaring at them both. Heat stirs in the pit of Marco’s belly, and he goes to take a step forward, but Ace grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Nope, pretty bird. I want Sabo calling for me. You’ll sound so cute, won’t you Sabo? Begging for me so desperately.” The words slip out saccharine sweet and Sabo’s glare deepens, muscles straining against the ropes Ace has bound him in. Sabo bares his teeth in a feral grin.

“It’s so hard to even think about you right now, Ace baby. I’m just so invested in plotting out a few- f-few new scenes for my book.”

Ace gives Marco a foul look that practically screams see? and Marco winces on Sabo’s behalf. Their little spitfire is a spitfire for a reason. When he decides he’s been slighted-

But then again, Sabo’s never met a challenge to his pride that he didn’t immediately take, so it’s really on him for being an idiot.

Ace pulls him away, slamming the door shut and cutting out the pretty sight of Sabo bound, and Marco takes a slow, careful breath.

“How’re you going to hear him?” he says, “If we’re going to have a movie night, we’ll be in the lounge, and the door will be closed...Don’t you think you’re being a little mean, yoi?”

Ace’s expression looks torn between a pout and a scowl. “What, and he isn’t? Acting all high and mighty about not making a sound but then never letting up on me?”

Tactfully, Marco doesn’t mention that Ace is always ever so eager to beg, and loudly. (Sabo and Marco are quiet bastards, to Ace’s consternation.) He has a feeling that pointing out that particular factoid is going to get him on Ace’s shitlist.

“I guess I’m just wondering how long you want him to-?”

“Until he’s louder than the movie, how am I supposed to know he wants my attention, Marco?”

The movie? Marco can feel his cheeks pink at the thought of Sabo that loud. His desperate mewls and moans filling the house. Ace’s picked an action flick, too, and Sabo’s not going to break until he has to, the stubborn bastard. Ace grins at him and reaches up to peck his cheek.

“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” Ace murmurs, and then he pulls back and saunters off to the kitchen. “Go get comfy, I’ll grab the pizza.”

“Pineapple-?” he calls, and Ace waves a careless hand.

“Yeah, yeah, Mar, I know what you like.”

The closed door teases him, the image of Sabo writhing still burned into his brain, but Marco gathers his self-control and forces his steps to take him to the lounge, flopping onto the couch. Ace is back a few minutes later, two plates heaped with slices of pizza and a can of sprite tucked under his arm. He sits and pulls Marco against his side, a soft purr of satisfaction leaving his lips as he settles.

It’s a cute noise, and Marco smiles to hear it even as Ace eagerly turns the movie on. “Koala said this was really good, okay? Sabo didn’t want to see it, but I figure since it’s just us…”

“No, it sounds fun. You know I don’t normally care.”

“I know,” Ace says, half a laugh, and he smushes his cheek against Marco’s head. “But I like checking what mood you’re in. Sometimes you just want dramas.”

“What, there’s no drama in this?” Marco says, faking an aghast tone, “I dunno Ace, how am I ever going to survive watching a bunch of attractive men take their shirts off for an hour and a half?”

Ace snickers, the sound reverberating in his chest, and Marco tucks his feet under Ace’s warm thighs, picking toppings off the slice Ace has bought him, idly nibbling as the movie continues.

It’s a fine movie; Ace is obviously invested, eagerly waiting for the climax and alternatively grinning or mocking the violence for the lack of realism, but Marco finds his thoughts drifting back to Sabo. Sabo, grinding against that hidden vibrator, sweaty and hot. A feast of bare skin open to be touched. His underwear is surely soaked by now. Even if he hadn’t made a loud enough sound, it’s been at least twenty minutes since the movie started, and he has no idea how long Ace had been teasing Sabo before that point. Sabo’s had to have cum at least once. He might even be whining now, tiny choked noise escaping him even as he tries to suffocate every hint of weakness.

Marco swallows with difficulty as a car chase begins, and he shifts, wriggling his toes under Ace’s legs. “Ace,” he starts slowly, “maybe, it would be a little easier to hear him, if he wasn’t a room away?”

Ace clicks his tongue, chancing a glance down at Marco’s expression, and sighs out through his nose. His head falls back onto the couch cushions.

“Mar,” he says, “the whole point is that it’s hard to hear him.”

Ah, that level of stubbornness tonight. Marco changes tactics, shifting on the couch so he can kiss Ace’s neck and jaw, tiny nips of his teeth making Ace shiver. “Mar,” Ace says warningly, but Marco simply presses closer, letting Ace feel his half-hard cock, teased by the image of Sabo desperate without them.

“Wasn’t he so stunning, Ace?” he says, “You’re being mean to me right now too, you know. Can’t we watch him and the show? Give him some earplugs, a blindfold, let him know we’re watching?” A jolt of longing runs through him like lightning, and Marco grins, biting down harder on Ace’s neck to hear him say ah! “Ace, I bet if you gave him earplugs he couldn’t hear shit. Wouldn’t know how loud he was being until you took them out again.”

Ace heaves a frustrated sigh and levers himself off the couch, head flopping back. Annoyingly, Marco’s realised that Ace leaving has left his side cold, but Ace’ll be back soon, and the temporary temperature shift is going to be rewarded soon enough.

“Fine,” Ace grumbles, “you want me to bring him out here? It’s only going to make him worse.”

“Just give him a fair shot, yoi.”

“I did,” Ace mumbles. “I asked and I was really nice about it. Not my fault he was a little shit.” He stomps off, but Marco catches the hint of a smile as he rounds the corner.

Ace rattles through their bedroom, and Marco reaches over to pause the movie as the car chase ends, clearing off the last slice of pizza from his plate and putting it over on the closest tea table. He can’t deny the growing swirl of excitement in his stomach, and it takes actual effort to keep his hands away from his cock, pulling himself up on the couch and pressing his legs together.

There’s the muffled murmur of words, and then Ace makes an affronted growl. A moment later, Sabo staggers into the lounge, hands tied behind him and a blindfold over his eyes. He walks on trembling legs, lower lip bitten red and spit-shiny. There’s a thin line of cum creeping down his thigh, visible before half-a-second before Sabo rubs his legs together to chase it away.

Marco rearranges himself on the couch so he can lean his head on one hand. “I told you he was a lovely view."

Ace scoffs. He isn’t gentle as he pushes Sabo in front of him, hand braced in the middle of Sabo’s back. “Do you know what he said to me, Marco? I walk in to offer him some food and some time with his boyfriend, and he says, so you finally want me to fuck you.”

“Very mean,” Marco offers, then pats his thigh, spreading his legs. “Can I-?”

“Gimmie your belt,” Ace says, and Marco sighs, taking a moment to shift before handing over his belt.

“Now?” he asks, and Ace shoves Sabo at him instead of answering. Marco catches Sabo’s hips, and Sabo flinches, head twitching at the sudden touch. He’s trembling, and Marco gently guides him to sit.

”Hey, darling,” Marco whispers, a shudder of desire running down his spine. Sabo’s soaked, wet enough that Marco can feel cum through his t-shirt. He moves to touch, but then Ace is grabbing his hand and wrapping it in his belt, binding both just above Sabo’s hips. “Ace-” he tries, and Ace tuts, guiding his hands down until Marco’s fingers slip under Sabo’s boxers and feel the base of Sabo’s plug. Marco’s eyes go wide. “Did- did you give him one of your vibrators?”

“They’re bigger,” Ace sneers. “Sabo said it was pathetic that I couldn’t take shit without crying. I figured he should know exactly what he’s mocking me for.”

They certainly are bigger; Ace loves anything with ridges, and just by feel Marco can tell that this one’s near the heaviest of his collection. He wraps his fingers around it carefully, getting a grip, but Ace’s hand on his wrist stops him.

“Now, Sabo,” Ace says, leaning in closer to whisper in Sabo’s ear, and Marco can feel every eager twitch and unstable shake. He shivers with every promise Ace makes. “Marco’s basically just here to give me another pair of hands. Do you know who you’re calling for?”

“Your dad?” Sabo mocks, voice cracking, and Ace snorts, lips curled back. He pulls roughly at Marco’s wrist before letting go. It's an easy hint and Marco pulls the toy free with a slick sound before thrusting it back in hard. Sabo’s spine goes rigid, head thrown back as a cry leaves his lips. Before he can catch his breath or think about shutting his mouth, Marco sets up a brutal pace, fighting the awkward grip of the belt. The buckle smacks Sabo’s side with each thrust, and Ace smiles.

“Good boy, Marco. At least somebody here respects me.”

Sabo lets out an angered sob, then curves forward, sinking his teeth into Marco’s shoulder. Pain flares like a fire through his skin and Marco jumps with a sharp noise.

Ace gathers Sabo’s hair in one hand, yanking him back. Sabo's teeth sink in harder and Marco moves with the pull, trying to alleviate the pain even as it makes him grind up against Sabo’s thighs. “Ace, Ace, please-”

Ace grabs Sabo’s jaw, pressing at the sides until Sabo lets go with a sharp gasp, and Ace immediately shoves his fingers in Sabo’s mouth, making him gag. “Sabo,” he snarls, forcing Sabo’s jaw wide, and Sabo thrashes, moaning in guttural breaks, trying to fight them both.

His squirming does little to allow him to escape, and he trembles as he settles, the vibrating urge to fight still so visible under his skin. Ace uses his free hand to carefully pet his hair, and this time Marco catches Sabo’s tiny whimper, the way his tongue flickers against Ace’s fingers, drool spilling between his lips.

“You gonna bite again?” Ace asks, and there’s a frozen moment before Sabo slowly shakes his head. Ace’s expression is molten heat.

“I don’t think I believe you, cruel thing,” he says, and his eyes flick to Marco. He heaves a sharp sigh. “Marco, don’t fucking touch him. Just keep his mouth open.”

Marco raises an eyebrow, pointedly indicating the belt, and Ace slips it off, tightening it around Sabo’s chest so his arms are pressed awkwardly into his back. Sabo thrashes once, like a fish on a hook as it tightens and his breath comes short. With his hands now free, Marco takes his time sliding the vibe back into Sabo, shifting his thighs up so Sabo won’t be able to go anywhere now that they’re not tied together. He runs his hands up Sabo’s heaving, sweat-slicked sides before taking over for Ace, cupping Sabo’s face in his hands and sticking his thumbs against Sabo’s bottom teeth.

“Don’t bite me again?” Marco asks, letting a soft longing into his tone, and Sabo whines through his nose, another inch of tension falling from his stiff posture.

“Stay,” Ace says, knuckles tapping Marco’s forehead, and then he’s out of the room with a soft curse.

As soon as he’s gone, Sabo shifts again, bearing down against Marco’s cock, a note of pleading in his tone. “Mar,” Sabo gurgles, gently lapping at his fingers like an apology. He probably doesn't mean it though, the little shit. Not with how a smile flickers across his face when Marco breathes in sharply. “Pretty, I heard you. Ace's being mean.”

A thin line of drool slips down Sabo's lip, and Marco shifts his fingers to wipe it away.

“From what I can tell, it seems like you may have had it coming,” he says.

Sabo tries to scoff, but then another strangled noise comes from his throat and he humps forward, a breath of relief leaving him as he grinds against Marco’s stomach. “Nuh,” he says, about to shake his head, but Marco tightens his grip, holding Sabo’s head still.

“Really?” he says, catching Ace’s eyes as he comes back into the room. He’s got a ring gag hanging from his fist, and Marco pointedly looks at it and then back up at Ace. Ace bears it like a weapon, holding both sides as he takes quiet, slow steps toward both of them. “So, Sabo, you weren’t teasing Ace about being responsive? About how much he likes being sweet to us?”

Sabo snorts, and Marco gives him a quick peck on the nose. It makes Sabo reel back, and Marco slips his thumbs free at the same time. Ace whips the gag over Sabo’s head, shoving it into his mouth before Sabo has a chance to close his mouth. He makes a startled noise, thrashing, but Marco’s already grabbed his shoulders, and Ace has clever fingers; the gag’s soon buckled up, Sabo’s mouth bared in a pretty O.

He whines, and Ace grins ferally. “There we go, baby. That’s the noise I want.”

Sabo thrashes again, but Ace just joins him on Marco’s lap, pressing Sabo forward and leaning into them with a sweet sigh. Sabo's sandwiched between them now, chest heaving as he tries to get space and combat the sensations drowning him.

Ace rolls his hips against Sabo’s hands, and Sabo makes a broken whimper, tongue pressing against the circle of the gag. Drool spills between his lips, as heavy as his sweet noises, and Ace presses his hand against Marco’s cock. Marco’s nose wrinkles as he gasps and bucks against Ace’s hand.

Ace laughs, stroking both of them with his palm. “Oh, Sabo, just imagine. If you’d been nice I woulda let Marco fuck you instead of my toy. He’s so hard, he’s been hard ever since he saw you. But I guess you’re pretty fucked out right now, huh? Do you think if I pulled it out of you, you’d gape, baby? You’re not used to anything this big.” Sabo squirms with a noise he can’t stop, and Marco watches as his cheeks slowly pink, breathless pants slipping out of him as Ace fucks against his clothed ass. It must shift the plug with every movement; at the very least it makes Sabo push against Marco, and every touch of his oversensitive cock against Marco’s abdomen makes Sabo whimper, tears slipping out from under his blindfold.

“-lease,” Sabo manages, the word almost a sob, barely intelligible, and Ace lathes kisses against his neck.

“Please what?” he hums curiously, and Sabo sobs properly now, bucking against the pressure, trying to free himself.

“You,” Sabo says, and then he throws his head back, a sharp sob breaking his throat. His cheeks are aflame. “Ah! Ace, please! Ace!”

“Good boy,” Ace murmurs, his grin razor-sharp. "I like hearing you, Sabo. I missed your voice."

Sabo sobs again, pathetic mewls and whimpers falling from his lips, and Ace gives a pleased little sigh, his eyes dancing. “How about you say that a few more times and I’ll think about letting you free.”

#overstimulation #answered asks #anon #my writing #so first of all grey shades A+ scenario you graduate top of your class #lmao ace probs totally does get frustrated by sabo being quiet lmao #its just not fair!#snickers #cool beans #MAN tho second of all i imagine u can totally get him to cry this way a few times but he is VERY stubborn abt locking himself down #shit like this needs to be amped up or rotated so it's a surprise to get sabo to make noise #its kinda a one-surprise-gets-noise trick #but if you pin his hands above his head and kiss him slowly for hours #if you get him to stay still long enough and figure out some way he can’t escape and work him open without the slightest hint of pain #if you kiss his scars and his eyelids and the inside of his wrists #you can get him to cry and swear and yell and beg for you to hurry up #because this sort of gentle touch is one that he will never be used to #and positive attention on him is something he’s never been able to understand #marcoacesabo #opnsfw #long post

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years

Text

CURSED: CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Knocking on Heaven’s Door”

Kai Parker x OC!Mack Grace

Series synopsis: "We're both cursed, in a way."

We all know the story of Kai Parker, but he once lived in a very different life. Do you ever wonder what that life looked like?

Chapter summary: Kai realised he fucked, Mack isn’t so willing to forgive him, Joshua is a shading little shit

Warnings: swearing, slight violence, arguing, mention of drug use (or misuse I guess)

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Kai’s affection didn't last long, the second the announcement was over he released Mack's hand with such haste you'd think it'd burnt him. Kai was quick to ignore his girlfriend - looking straight ahead and following the Police with his eyes as they made their way out of the room - but not before announcing they would be questioning certain individuals.

This put Mack's stress on overdrive, knowing that they'd find out that she killed him and that Kai helped destroy the body and they'd both go to prison. The girl shuddered at the thought of the cold, dingy cells; the cool metal bars that would not doubt be lathered in a layer of thick rust; the grumpy, disgruntled guards; and lastly, the inmates - the ones who had done awful things, much more so than she had than her, or even worse, the ones she outdid.

Mack visibly shook, a chill tickling along her spine as the thoughts encased her mind in a state of anxiousness. She hardly noticed the police had left until the jabbing of the bell pierced her ears, bringing Mack back to her senses as she scrambled to her feet. What she'd also failed to notice was that Kai was no longer in the class, having snuck out when he'd let go of her shaking hand.

...

"Who the fuck are you?" Kai hissed, approaching Shawn, shoulders squared and jaw locked. Shawn smirked, leaning away from the wall and closing the distance between them. Both boys were around the same height - neither of them having an advantage of dominance due to being tall.

"None of your damn business." He smirked, winding Kai up even further.

"Oh, you're right - it's none of my damn business that your asking my girlfriend to kiss you in front of me, is it?" Kai mused, a sinister looking smirk reaching his own lips. Shane's didn't falter either.

"Mmm, girlfriend? She looked more like a slut to me." Shawn pondered and Kai's jaw clenched uncomfortably, hands balling into tight fists at his sides.

"What did you just call her?" Kai spat through gritted teeth and Shawn chuckled, looking back at the group of friends stood behind him with amused expressions.

"What? That's what she is, isn't it? I mean you only called her your girlfriend when you pissed off your sister so bad and her ex went missing." Shawn smirked, his friends laughing and egging him on with cheers. "I bet she's the one who killed him, right? Then ever the hero you swoop in, claiming to be her boyfriend so any motive she may hold becomes futile." Shawn declared, before turning back to his friends with outstretched arms. "Am I right, boys?" He called loudly, met with hoots of agreement that made Kai's anger bubble, their laughter creating a scowl on Kai's brows.

"I mean, nice catch though dude - a bet she's a real freak in bed, probably hard to keep up with her, huh?" Shawn taunted.

Shawn only stopped at the impact of Kai's fist colliding with his jaw, snapping the boy's head to the side as Kai's ring caught the soft skin of his cheek, a slither of crimson breaking the surface. Shawn's jaw clenched tight lung, his thumb swiping the blood from his cheek as his dangerous glare met Kai's.

"You son of a fucking bitch!" Shawn growled, grabbing Kai by his jacket and shoving him into the wall behind him. "Don't you dare fucking touch me again!"

"Or you'll what?" Kai smirked, Shawn's nostrils now flared and his breathing heavy. He was clearly bothered by how unaffected Kai was, this frustration showing clearly when he moved to punch Kai.

But Kai got there first.

No one was really sure how I'd happened, including Kai, but next thing either of them new a teacher was peeling Kai off of Shawn as he straddled the boy, landing punch after punch to his bartered and bruised face.

...

And yet weeks went by and neither Mack nor Kai said a word to each other.

Awkward silences became more awkward, uncomfortable moments became more uncomfortable, wistful gazes became more wistful.

It was getting too much, and Mack was dying for Kai just to say something to her, yet she was too stubborn to say anything first. She sighed heavily, slamming the front door behind her and dumping her bag on the floor. Mack quickly chucked the car keys onto the table before walking into the kitchen for a glass of water. For the past month Mack has been borrowing her dad's car to get to school.

"Hey dad!" She called and Ian soon walked round the corner, joining her in the kitchen.

"Hey, kiddo." He smiled, "how was school?" But before Mack got a chance to answer Kim called from the other room.

"Mack! Kai's here!" The colour instantly drained from Mack's face, her smile falling and her thought spiralling into dread.

Why was Kai there? And why had he now decided to talk to her?

Mack quickly shook off the thoughts, pulling on a hard stare and calling as emotionlessly as she could to Kim,

"I don't want to talk to him. Tell him to leave!" Kim merely shrugged, giving Kai a half-ass apologetic look before letting the slab of wood slam shut in his face, the tiny draft the force created combined with the monotone drawl of Mack's words felt like it hit Kai's face almost as hard as if the girl had charged outside and slapped him across the face herself. He took a deep swallow, choking down the lump in his throat as he stared blankly at the door, fist twitching as he tried to make up his mind.

Another hollow knock on the door. Kim's hand still remained on the handle, so she simply yanked it open before giving Kai a bored look, Amber eyes rolling dramatically.

"Look, lover boy, give it a rest. She doesn't want to talk to you." Mack's sister deadpanned, before letting the door smack shut with an even louder thud than the first time. Kai took a deep breath, his chest rising greatly as he rose his hand another time.

Another hollow knock on the door. Kim scoffed, turning to open the door once again - figuring it could be another person as the pause between knocks had been much longer this time. The second Kai's face met hers Kim huffed out an exasperated sigh, not even bothering to speak before letting the door close dully in Kai's face. A wince escaped him when the last thud met his ears, shoulders slumped as he slowly made his way back to his jeep.

He'd just have to wait Mack out.

10pm. Perfect. Kai claimed out his car hastily, limbs aching after being cooped in his jeep for the last five or so hours. He crept as quietly as possible past her front windows, letting out a small sigh of relief when he noticed that the curtains were already closed so he wasn't in trouble of being seen. Only one light beacons out from the house, the yellow hue of Mack's lamp echoing into the crisp night air. Even though it was already February, the weather was still as harsh as it had been throughout the bitter January.

Kai grabbed onto the bricks, suddenly much more appreciative to the fact he had a small magical boost as he scaled the side of the small building.

Mack nearly jumped three foot in the air, her heart beating so fast she thought it jump out of her chest. The unexpected, unwelcome and unnecessary rattle of Kai's knuckles against her old window bounced off her bedroom walks, filling her ears with anxiety as she turned to see her ex-boyfriend's concerned face looking into her room. Mack inhaled sharply, biting her lips to hold back her grimace as she realised what he'd seen.

The window climbed upwards, Kai's hands sliding the glass up enough to stumble through until he was awkwardly stood in Mack's room, both teens staring at each other uncomfortably.

"That's how you've been coping?" Mack's gaze dropped to her bed, guilt washing over her at the sight of the half-rolled joint. "Weed? Really?" Kai scoffed and Mack's guilt soon rolled into anger, rage.

"That's none of your business." She said with an unturned nose, scooping the mess into a bag and shoving it in the little drawer in her desk which held a small lock. The sound Kai made resembled one of mocking laughter, short and bitter.

"None of my business, huh? I think you doing drugs is damn well my fucking business!" Kai demanded, shaking his head at her in disbelief.

"It stopped being your business the second you decided to dump me!" Mack was raising her voice now, her enmity melting into her face in a deep red hue. Kai's jaw clenched and unclenched, his eyes burning holes through the little wooden drawer shed just stuffed the weed into.

"That was a mistake." He muttered and Mack's eyes lit up with fury.

"A mistake? Kai you've made hundreds of mistakes!" Mack said harshly, voice cracking. Kai wiped his hand over his jaw, hiding his pout. "No. That wasn't a mistake, Kai. That was your shitty past making you doubt me as much as you doubt your shitty father and your shitty coven!" Mack shouted, eyes shellacked with tears.

And awkward silence fell over them, but Kai's stung expression told Mack everything she needed to know.

"Kenz..."

"Why are you here, Kai?!" Mack spat.

"Ben, he's uh- he's been confirmed dead." Kai murmured meekly, pressing his lips together. Mack's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"What?!" She whispered-shouted. Kai nodded.

"The police- they confirmed it, earlier. It was on the news." A somber mood had undertaken the room, a mutual air of what-do-we-do-now becoming the two teens.

"How-?"

"They found the ashes in the woods. And Kim talked." Kai admitted and Mack's face quickly morphed back into one of acrimony.

"That bitch-" Kai's hand quickly caught her wrist, pulling Mack back into him before she could get any further. He quickly backed her up into the door, a finger hovering over her lips.

"Shhhh. I have a sneaking suspicion that your name wouldn't have come up." He whispered calmly, but the fear and anger in his blue eyes were evident.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, a hint of concern creeping into her eyes.

"Well, I was thinking we could run away. You and me." Kai suggested, a hopeful glint to his voice that made Mack scoff.

"You haven't spoken to me in weeks," she emphasised the word heavily, "and you just expect me to run away with you? Not a chance." Mack dismissed, pulling away from Kai and quickly slipping out of her room - feet padding down the stairs swiftly. But Kai's heavy footsteps could be heard behind her.

"Come on, Kenz, you know you want to-" at that Mack turned harshly on her heal to face him

"What makes you think I'd want to go anywhere with you?" She hissed and Kai was taken aback.

"I thought you loved me.." he mumbled and Mack rolled her eyes, but really she was only trying to hide the siege of tears persisting at her bottom eyelids. She continued her path out, pulling the front door open harshly. "Where are you going?" Kai called, before coming to a stop a few feet behind Mack outside the small house.

"I'm just asking myself, why do I," Mack took a pause, inhaling a deep breath, "pick people who treat me like...nothing..." she exhaled deeply, turning around to face him and Kai's bottom lip began to quiver. Tears pooled in his deep blue eyes and he shook his head slightly.

"That's not true." He murmured, head still shaking as Mack kept her eyes trained to the floor. She gave him no response.

Kai's lips smashed to hers, his hands cupping her face and his eyes closed. Mack balled her fists by her sides, trying with all her strength to not kiss back. She finally pulled away, her hand making a hard connection with Kai's cheek.

"No! You don't get to do that, Kai!" She screamed, tears running down Mack's red cheeks. "You don't get to screw everything up and expect to kiss me and make it better!" The tears stung his eyes too now, an expression of sadness over coming him.

"I'm sorry." The words were mumbled, directed at the floor.

"Sorry?! You thought so little of me that I'd throw away what we had for some - some guy I'd just met! I can't be with you if all you can do is think of me as some lying, manipulative bitch like you do you coven! I can't, Kai. God, I can't believe I actually fell in love with someone as- as immature as you!" Mack seethed, but Kai was crying silently now, shaking his head no as she spoke even though deep down he knew every word she spoke was true.

"Please don't leave me." Kai begged, his desperation lacing his deep blue eyes with a rim of sadness, eyes finally making contact with Mack's. "Please, Kenz, I can't live without you."

"Kenz? Oh we are so not at nicknames right now Malachai." Mack spat out his name like is tasted bad, as if the word held a lingering bitter taste on her tongue. It stung Kai, Mack using his full name.

"I love you." Was all Kai suggested and Mack let out a heavy sigh through her tears.

"If you truly loved me, you would have trusted me. I can't be with someone who I have to tread on eggshells around, Kai. I can't do that." Mack cried, biting down on her lower lip to hide a sob. She looked at her feet, then back up again and put on a brave face as her eyes bored into Kai's blue orbs. "We're done." She whispered and Kai's eyes widened.

"No..." he muttered, shaking his head slowly in protest as Mack sorrowfully nodded.

"Yes, we're done. For good. I'm sorry." Mack said authoritatively, wiping the tears away quickly before turning back around and walking over to her dad's car.

"Kenz!" He shouted after her, but Mack pretended to ignore him - a new wave of tears threatening to drip down her chin now. The lights on the car flashed orange, the button on the keys clicked and the door now open. Mack slipped in, seating herself in the car and pushing the keys into the ignition, starting the car with a small sob.

As Mack attempted to shut the door, a strong hand caught it, Kai's wrecked face looking down at her with a pleading beg.

"Please don't leave, don't you get it? I love you Kenz." Kai begged. Mack shook her head.

"Let me go, Kai." He shook his head back, pressing his lips together to stop himself choking over a sob.

"I can't."

"And you've lost the right to call me anything but Mackenzie." She whispered, finally out manning Kai and slamming the door shut, not even hesitating before driving off.

...

The words buzzed through Mack's mind, her eyes trained on the road ahead of her as she desperately drove further away from home. She couldn't put her family through this, not right now, couldn't face him. She had to get away, go somewhere to think.

Mack tapped her foot restlessly, chewing on her bottom lips as she drove down the secluded road. As she approached a corner, she turned around it to see a car parked up at the side of the road, lights flashing.

As she drove closer, she realised it was Kai's father's car, so she made to pull over. Even thought she was avoiding Kai, Joshua hadn't done anything wrong and he could be in serious trouble. Once parked at the side of the road, Mack quickly climbed out her car, locking it behind her and walking over to Joshua - who was stood by his tyre, bent down to examine it.

"Hey, Mr Parker!" She called, arms crossed over her chest, and he looked up.

"Ah, Mackenzie! What are you doing out here alone?" He asked with a small frown.

"Well I was just driving to clear my head and I saw your car...are you okay? Do you need help?" She asked worriedly, stepping back slightly as Joshua rose to stand.

"Actually," he spoke rather menacingly, "there is something you could help with." He continued walking until Mack was backed into a tree and she let out a sharp gasp. Joshua raised his hand. "Phasmatos Somnus!" he spoke, and Mack's body fell limp, eyes closed as she fell unconscious.

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