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fairyfuyu · 3 years

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that night | baji keisuke

summary: aged up characters +20, enemies to lovers w/ baji, reader is siblings w/ chifuyu, some shit isn’t canon but some is and i am too lazy to state what is/isn’t. bite me. baji and reader have really hot sex

wc: 8.9k (i am yelling)

*taps mic* jess this one's for you @zeeroweenies

content: NSFW 18+, fem!reader, unbearable teasing and tension, we have a lil girlboss moment ngl, gang discourse but what else is new (also involving us but we’re ok i promise), mentions of blood from wounds, baji being protective, use of pet name ‘angel,’ degradation if you squint, oral (m&f receiving, baji also licks our taint), face fucking, spit as lube, unprotected sex, tummy bulge, choking, hair pulling, impact play (spanking), overstim (?), squirting, baji fucks us dumb, backshots, shitty aftercare (but aftercare nontheless) i mean its baji cmon what do you really expect stop lying to yourself

a/n: lol remember when i said writing smut isnt my thing? changed my mind this is now an art/smut account sorry about it. this is the result of having baji brainrot for 3 days straight. i barely slept. was h word for 72 consistent hours. i have no regrets. this is purely self indulgent aka i wanna be in a gang and carry a diamond encrusted knife on me at all times

mdni !!!!! or else im taking ur ipad away from u

please have your fucking age in your bio im begging you

“Chifuyu! Where the fuck is your peyoung yakisoba?!”

His voice was so indistinguishable as it rang throughout the small space of the apartment. Deep. Commandeering. Even with your headphones on as you intently focused on your homework, it demanded the attention it never failed to acquire. You internally groaned at the very first syllable you heard.

He let himself in again, that dumbass.

You rolled your eyes, hating yourself for even thinking about responding back in place of your brother’s absence. As much as you dreaded the thought of engaging the ravenette, you knew the sooner he got the information he was searching for, the sooner he would shut up.

“He’s not home!” You shouted back, not waiting for an answer before you situated your headphones back to their original position.

Turning back to your laptop, you wished you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approaching your closed door. It didn’t take long before he reached for the handle, finding his attempt at barging in futile. “___? Why’s the door locked - you naked or something?”

You scoffed, fully taking your headphones off and resting them around your neck. “You’re a pervert.” Accepting your defeat at evading any conversation with him, you pushed yourself out of your chair and strode to your door, unlocking it and cracking it open slightly. You looked up at his dark eyes staring back down at you, leaning all of his weight on his arm against the doorframe.

“I’m in university, remember? I gave up playing gangster when I was in high school.” You shot up at him, an unbothered expression resting on your face.

It was true, you briefly scuttled around with your brother and his little gang in high school. It wasn’t anything too serious on your part, mostly because Chifuyu would kill you if you let yourself get wrapped up with a few particular enemies of his. You two were incredibly close, but what siblings wouldn’t be after their single mom ran out on them by the time you turned 15? Chifuyu would do anything to protect you, but he knew that he alone wasn’t enough; you ultimately had to learn to protect yourself, which is why you even got involved with his friends in the first place. You learned anything you needed to protect yourself, and being related to someone so deeply tied to Toman, that reputation alone kept you safe. Though you were pretty skilled in fighting, your involvement trailed off once you decided to focus more on your education and getting into university. After all, being in a gang was not a safe or secure way to make a living. But that didn’t mean you stopped keeping your jewel-encrusted knife on you at all times that Chifuyu gifted you when you turned 17.

Baji rolled his eyes at you. “Don’t try and act like you’re above that shit. You’re just as bad as your brother. Now, where is that fucker?”

“I told you, he’s out. And stop letting yourself in, it’s creepy.” You replied back, maintaining your deadpan tone.

He let out an unamused chuckle. “You know I’m not gonna stop. Besides, I was hungry and I know you guys always stay stocked up - at least, I thought you did.”

You decided to mess with him some. “Aw, you didn’t come to see me?”

“Of course not, idiot.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. Do you think I don’t catch you staring all the time?” You teased him, revelling in the reaction you pulled from him; he didn’t actually stare, you just knew he hated anytime you teased him like this. Although this time, you could practically hear his heart stop in his chest, just inches away from yours.

He narrowed his eyes down at you. “You’re ridiculous. I’m staying here till Fuyu gets back.”

“Like I care. Just don’t bother me anymore.” You moved to put your headphones back over your ears, just wanting the conversation to be over.

“Pretty sure I annoy you just by being here.”

“You’re absolutely right.” You said with a smile, before shutting the door in his face.

Thankfully, you were able to get through all the homework you hoped to complete that evening without any interruptions from Baji or Chifuyu once he returned. He knew how important your studies were to you, and he wanted nothing but success for you, making sure to never break your focus unless something urgent happened.

It wasn’t until you forced yourself to look up from your laptop did you realize what time it was; the dark sky peeking through your window told you it was much later than you had thought, and a glance at your phone confirmed it. 9:13 PM.

You decided that eating dinner would definitely be the smartest decision; your aching stomach would surely appreciate some type of food. Peeling yourself out of your chair for the first time since Baji rudely interrupted, you slid into your slippers beside you and made your way out to the kitchen.

Chifuyu stood at the sink, a dish in one hand and a rag in the other. He heard the quiet pitter-patter of your footsteps and looked up, a soft smile crossing his face. “Hey ___, finished with your work?”

You nodded, silently sighing in annoyance to see Baji still under your roof. “Yeah, finally. ‘M starving, though.” Before you could even make your way to the fridge to throw a makeshift meal together, Chifuyu opened the oven and grabbed a dish covered in tin foil.

“Here, I kept it warm for you.” He spoke tenderly, placing the dish on the countertop for you.

Chifuyu always made sure you ate something before you fell asleep, knowing how often you neglect your self care when it comes to late nights of studying. The gesture reminded you just how much he cared about you. You offered a smile in return. “Thanks, Fuyu.”

Sitting down opposite Baji at the kitchen table - who presumably was satisfied after his friend made him dinner considering his much more mellow nature than earlier - you placed the plate of noodles in front of you and didn’t hesitate to dig in. If Chifuyu did one thing right, it surprisingly was his ability to make a good meal.

“So, how was Mikey?” You asked Chifuyu nonchalantly, not even acknowledging Baji’s presence.

He placed the dish he had cleaned on the drying rack. “You know you don’t have to pretend to be interested in Toman anymore, ___.”

“But what if I am interested?” You countered. “Those guys were my friends for so long - and I mean, you’re practically an exec at this point, my best friend is dating Takemichi...how can I not be somewhat involved still?”

“I thought you were above playing gangster.” Baji chimed in, not breaking eye contact with the phone in his hands.

You shot him a glare for alluding to your conversation earlier. “I’m just saying, is it so wrong for me to ask how everyone is sometimes? Even if it has been months since I’ve seen Mikey or Draken.”

“He asked about you, actually.” Chifuyu stated simply.

“Who, Mikey?” You asked absentmindedly, taking another bite.

He nodded. “Said he missed having you around.”

Thank god you swallowed before hearing Chifuyu’s response, otherwise you’d have choked. It hung in the air for a moment, the silence that followed so deafening. You almost thought you caught a glimpse of Baji’s grip tightening on his phone, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Chifuyu across the room. He acted as though he didn’t even say anything, continuing his task of cleaning yet another dish. You noted the suds on his bruised knuckles, moving back and forth as he scrubbed. Cleaning the front, then the back, then rinsing it off. The steady stream of the faucet shut off, but the lingering drops continued for a second, drip, drip, drip…

“___?”

You snapped out of your trance held on the water droplets, finding your brother’s green eyes locked on you. “What’d you tell him?” You took another bite.

“That you were at university now, being a serious adult, doing serious, adult things.” He tossed the towel to the side, apparently done with the chore.

Baji took a sip of his drink. “Is the serious adult still too cool to hang out with the wannabe gangsters?” He continued averting his gaze from you.

“You’re not in this conversation, dumbass.” You retorted, eyes flickering to him for a split second before returning your attention to your brother. You saw him stick his tongue out at you like a damn child out of the corner of your eye, and the tiniest part of you wanted to smile. But, you didn’t. “Why’d he bring me up all of a sudden?”

The blonde just shrugged. “Guess he just misses you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek in slight concentration...or maybe it was contemplation. Your mind wandered back to the last brawl you ever found yourself in the middle of, just before you graduated high school. It was like every other time - Toman got wrapped up in their agenda of having each other's back, finding themselves up against a pretty tough rival gang. You weren’t excused from the brutality that time by any means; the shitheads always liked to try and take out the rival girls, and you never understood why...if they really think girls are weaker, then would it really prove their strength to beat the shit out of one? You were incredibly skilled, though, and most of the time you could stand your ground. But that time, you hesitated a second too long, and before you knew it you were flat on the ground, Chifuyu kneeling over you and cradling your head.

You were okay, but a trip to the ER later revealed a broken jaw and an injured self-esteem. You cursed yourself for letting that lanky asshole knock you out, but your time in the hospital allowed you to reflect some on where to go from there; Chifuyu’s guilt for ever allowing you to join in on fights definitely had a lot of weight on your final decision to step away from the group of boys who occupied most of your time. It forced you to face reality and take some responsibility for your life and where you ended up. Despite those boys practically being family, you needed to step away from that part of your life. So, you turned towards getting a degree and never looked back.

That was over a year ago.

“Is he expecting me to come back or something?” You finally said after your brief self-examination, staring back down at your dinner in front of you. Chifuyu had made his way to join you and Baji at the table.

Shrugging again, he leaned forward on his elbows atop the table’s surface. “Don’t dwell on it, I just thought I’d let you know he hasn’t totally forgotten about you.”

His statement made you smile a little. “Well, who could forget about me?” You joked, causing him to mirror your smile.

“Would you ever come back?” Baji intervened.

“No.” Chifuyu answered for you before you could even think about what you’d respond with. His voice was so firm, so sure.

You raised an eyebrow at your brother. “No?”

“Yeah.” He said, as serious as ever.

Baji shook his head in confusion. “I just heard ‘no’ and ‘yeah,’ which one is it?”

Scoffing at the raven-haired boy, you rolled your eyes. “Dumbass. Since when do you make decisions for me, Chifuyu?”

The blonde sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you forget what happened last year? Or did Hanma kick that pretty little head of yours too hard, ___?”

“Fuck you.” You bit back at his remark. “I can take care of myself, just cause you’re a year older than me doesn’t mean I’m some baby.”

“I just don’t want you getting hurt again,” Chifuyu said, “that’s all.”

You pushed yourself out of your seat, deciding that you were thirsty. “Well, I still have that knife you gave me, ready to use whenever.”

Two steps later and Chifuyu was out of his seat, grabbing you and whipping you around to try and catch you off guard, but you moved quicker than him. In an instant, you wielded your knife tucked in your waistline, holding the blade inches away from his face. A proud smile on your face as you locked him in position, you chuckled. “Checking to see if I still remember a thing or two?”

“Always.” He replied, impressed at his little sister.

“Wow, kitty likes to scratch, huh?” Baji laughed, unable to tear his eyes off of the two dangerous siblings.

You let go of the hold you had on Chifuyu, returning the knife back to the holster you keep hidden. It was no exaggeration that you kept it on you at all times. “Suck my dick, Keisuke.” You snapped, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

Reaching up to grab a glass out of your cupboard, you heard the two boys stirring behind you. You turned your head to see Chifuyu sling the familiar black jacket over his shoulders, Baji’s own tucked under his arm. Without them saying anything, you connected the dots. “Oh...that’s why Mikey needed to talk to you today, huh?”

He nodded sheepishly, not looking your way as he headed towards the door. “Something like that, yeah.”

You couldn’t help your heart rate spike a little, the anxiety setting in that always managed to take over whenever you watched Chifuyu leave for the night. Obviously, the shit he was getting into was dangerous, and you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to the worst case scenario while he was gone. The longer he stayed out, the more worried you grew. You knew your brother was strong, and he absolutely had no problem when it came to protecting himself and his friends. Part of you was just scared that you’d lose the last bit of family you had left.

Chifuyu’s ego was a fragile one too - though he’d never admit it, of course - but you knew he felt the need to prove his strength any chance he got. He never had a father, never had someone teach him how to go out into the world and face what came his way. He was forced to learn it from his delinquent friends; and of course he couldn’t help the cards he was dealt in life, but sometimes you wished things turned out different.

Most of the time, though, you were glad for exactly who Chifuyu was.

You trailed behind them like a lost puppy as they made their way to the exit of the apartment. “Fuyu,” You quietly called.

He hesitated in the open doorway; he knew exactly what you were feeling and this is precisely why he didn’t tell you about the meeting tonight. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” He assured you, pressing his lips into a forced smile.

Nodding to yourself, for a second you almost believed him. “Okay.”

And with that, the blonde and the brunette left into the night.

10:30 rolled around and you still hadn’t fallen asleep. You tossed and turned in your little bed, desperate to find a position comfortable enough to doze off in. Needless to say, your efforts were unsuccessful; any position was unbearable with your mind racing and your brother out in the city doing who knows what. It was always like this. You tried not to let Chifuyu’s undertakings evade your thoughts on a day to day basis, and for the most part, they didn’t. He felt that the less you knew, the better, and you agreed; but that didn’t stop you from speculating his whereabouts when he wouldn’t return home all day, even though he just said he’d be back in under an hour. And your speculations, more often than not, were correct. He’d waltz through that front door, trying his hardest to be as quiet as a mouse, but you were too clever; you’d catch him every time red handed - quite literally, as new battle scars always managed to find their way onto his skin.

Maybe it was your familial bias towards Chifuyu, but you repeatedly found some way to blame that dumbass that lived three floors above the two of you. If it wouldn’t have been for Chifuyu and Baji meeting in middle school, he never would’ve been introduced to Toman in the first place. And although you treated Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, and the rest of them like siblings, Baji never clicked with you somehow. Sure, you can tolerate him the bare minimum in order to appease your brother, but his gruff and churlish attitude towards you didn’t sit right. Ever since Chifuyu met him - and subsequently discovered he lived in the same building as you - they’ve been inseparable. Baji’s just always been there, though never for you.

Ignoring the tiny voice inside of your head that begged you not to, you found yourself on your feet in one swift motion, the cold evening air sending a sharp chill down your spine. Trading your sleep shorts for something a little more practical, your feet took you over to your closet where you rummaged through the back until your hands landed on what you were searching for. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you admired the embroidery Mitsuya carefully stitched into the fabric for you.

“As the honorary little sis of Toman, I had to specially make yours by hand.” You remembered him saying when he first handed it to you years ago, and you’d always treasure it - whether you were a part of Toman or not.

You threw the black jacket over your t-shirt, stepped into some shoes, and grabbed your keys to your motorcycle. Your plan, though barely a plan at all, was this: go to the spot Toman typically meets, see if the boys were there, and make sure your brother isn’t dead. If they weren’t there, you’d end your search. Simple. At the very least, a nice ride in the brisk night would surely help calm your nerves.

The autumnal air breezes past you as you ride down the barren sidestreets, navigating your way between the concrete buildings surrounding you. Your open jacket catches the wind, chilling you further and making you curse under your breath at your stupidity for only sporting a thin t-shirt tonight. You always loved riding your bike through the city, especially the spontaneous drives with Chifuyu and his friends, somehow going into the earliest hours of the morning. There were times you even stayed up until the sun rose (mostly due to Mikey’s pleading), and as much as you hate to admit it, those times you cherish the most.

Your little joyride was short lived sadly; before you knew it, you heard the familiar shouts from the gang growing louder and louder, indicating you had arrived at the correct spot. Shedding your helmet and buttoning your jacket halfheartedly, you carried yourself down to the opening that was home to the voices. And then, you saw them; Mikey, Draken, Baji, and Takemichi, all lined up behind Chifuyu as he stared up at Kisaki. Hanma was right by his side.

The quiet sounds of you approaching the group must’ve been much louder than you thought, because as soon as you came into view, Mikey called out to you.

“Oi, is that ___?” He asked; there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

You could feel your brother’s gaze burning into your skull the closer you drew near, furious that you even thought about coming out here. You knew he would be mad at you for this choice, but you still stand by your decision. He’s been there for you all these years, you felt you should do the same.

“Weren’t done playing gangster after all, huh?” Baji teased, flashing his little fangs at you with a toothy grin.

You approached the group, locking eyes with the brunette for a passing second. “Nice ponytail, dumbass.”

“Ew, don’t compliment me like that. They’re gonna think we’re friends.” He scoffed, switching his smirk out for a frown, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Go home, ___.” Chifuyu ordered, petulance laced through the simple phrase, pulling your attention over towards him, but only momentarily.

Hanma took a few steps towards you, eyes shooting daggers into yours as if he were warning you. A simper played on his lips. “Looks like you healed up real nice from last time I saw you. Maybe this time you won’t be so lucky.”

“Hanma…” Draken interjected, but you silenced him.

“No, I think I will be lucky this time actually.” You smirked up at him, implicitly begging him to make a move.

And he played right into it, that cocky son of a bitch. It all happened quickly, the way he swung at you, with such force and arrogance, like he was sure he would knock you out in one punch. But his pomposity proved faulty in this instance, for you dodged it with such finesse, sweeping his legs out from under him and pinning him down. Your blade was drawn, inches away from his face, your other hand securing his arm and digging your knee into his back. Giggling softly, you scowled down at him. “Seems I did get lucky this time around, huh?”

While your eyes were trained on him, you were completely unaware of what occurred behind you. Kisaki decided to dismiss whatever business he had with your brother, deeming the situation with Hanma far more important since you had a weapon too close for comfort. But before he could get close to you, the ravenette tackled him, slamming his head to the concrete and knocking his glasses off his smug face.

“You touch her, you die.” He spit, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. If not for that unmistakable voice that sounded in the quiet night, you wouldn’t have believed it was Baji. It caught you off guard, mostly because he always had a jovial tonality whenever he spoke. He wasn’t serious by nature, but he sure as shit was at this moment in time. You made sure to not lose focus on keeping Hanma down, but managed to steal a brief glance towards the scene unraveling.

Kisaki laughed beneath Baji’s weight. “Since when do you give a shit about little Matsuno?”

Instead of a proper response, Baji sent a clean, hard punch right to his face. “Talk about her again, I dare you.”

“Kei, you don’t need-” Chifuyu started to say, taking a step towards his friend, but the brunette completely ignored him, striking his enemy again. Blood trickled from his nose, eyes hazy as they peered skywards.

Hanma’s eyes focused over to the brawling men, snickering softly. “Your boyfriend seems to be doing a good job of protecting you.”

You rest the blade right under his jaw, not forcefully, but with enough contact to get the point across. “I don’t need anyone to protect me. I’m the one with the knife, remember?”

“____, do you really need to have a knife pulled on him?” Takemichi asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Mikey laughed at his question. “Let her be, she’s got it handled.”

Meanwhile, Baji kept his eyes trained on the body beneath him. “Now, tell me you’re gonna fuck off from messing with Matsuno or else I’m killing you right here and now.”

“No need to make such empty promises, Keisuke. I just wanted to make sure Chifuyu knew who he was dealing with, 's all.” Kisaki spoke smoothly, as if he didn’t just get his nose broken. “I think we’ve all had enough fun for tonight, yeah?”

Not satisfied with his answer, Baji gave him one last jab, putting him right to sleep. He got up from his position, walking over to you and resting a hand on your shoulder. “You can get up, ___. He won’t hurt you.”

Gritting your teeth behind your closed lips, you pulled the knife away from Hanma’s neck, barely nicking him in the process. Your eyes didn’t leave the tiny drop of blood that formed as you stood up and off of the arrogant man beneath you. Turning your back on him, you walked over to your brother.

Your eyes flickered up to Baji’s. “You didn’t need to do that for me.”

He rolled his eyes, walking further ahead of you as he inspected the fresh wounds on his knuckles. “Like I did that for you. I knew Fuyu would never shut up if you got hurt again.” He pulled the hair tie out of his hair, allowing his dark locks to cascade over his shoulders and bathe in the moonlight.

You fell back, joining Chifuyu who stood perfectly still, frozen and staring at the ground where you previously had control over Hanma. He controlled his breathing, balling his hands in fists beside himself. You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Ready to go home?”

I’ll save it for tomorrow, he thought to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to go off on you here, in front of everyone. Nodding, he sucked up his pride. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

You barely got any sleep that night, thanks to the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The second you got home, Chifuyu wordlessly entered his room, secluding himself for the rest of the night. Fleeing to your own, you settled under the covers, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but overthink every little thing that happened that night.

Specifically, Baji’s behavior.

Why would he say the things he said - ‘You touch her, you die’ ? Beating the shit out of Kisaki like...like he cared about you or something. But then he goes and acts like he doesn’t care about you.

Of course he doesn’t care about you, he never has, never will.

‘Like I’d do that for you’

The words replayed over and over in your head, an endless cycle of convincing yourself that he’s just lying and actually does care about you, but then overthinking your entire relationship with him and deciding that there’s no way he didn’t mean the things he said.

The reason for your racing heart and anxiety coursing through your whole body was not the fact that you successfully stopped Hanma from attacking you yet again, it was the fact that this person who never passed up on a chance to annoy the ever living shit out of you, potentially tried protecting you that night.

By the time the sun rose, you and Chifuyu were yelling at each other like real siblings do in the living room. You couldn’t have been more spot on with how you expected the argument to go; he, of course, scolded you for being so stupid, so careless, because “what if you weren’t able to take him down, what then?” And you shot back at him with “but I did take him down, I told you I can take care of myself!” Which cascaded the entire argument into one about how Chifuyu treats you like you’re five and doesn’t have any faith in you. His reasoning for that was he just cares about you too much, you’re family, you’re all he has left...of course he’s going to worry.

When you heard this, the only response you found fitting was something along the lines of “You’re wrong, you have Toman! You have a hundred guys ready to back you up - ready to treat you like family. I don’t have that anymore - you’re my only family and you know it”

Were you proud of that response? You weren’t entirely sure. It sounded right in the heat of the moment, but the way his face dropped and he instantly got quiet, you felt a slight twinge of regret for your choice in words. As he grabbed his keys from the counter, he muttered a quiet “I’ll see you later” before he shut the front door behind him.

And so, here you were, twelve minutes later, curled up in your bed trying to at least take a brief nap since you didn’t sleep at all. The closest you got to a nap was keeping your eyes shut for a solid minute before you heard the front door open and close in haste.

That was quick, you thought to yourself, forcing yourself to sit upright in your bed as you locked your eyes on your open doorway, expecting to see your brother.

What you didn’t expect was to see Baji standing there instead, breathing heavily, and a small smirk on his face. “Hey, ___.”

You pushed yourself out of bed awkwardly, a little confused that he of all people was there. “Chifuyu isn't home...I actually thought he was with you-”

“I didn’t come to see Chifuyu.” He stated.

A deafening hush fell over the two of you. He looked like hell - probably just as bad as you looked, to be honest. Dark bags rest beneath his moody eyes and his hair hung impossibly messy beside his face. His breathing began to still as more seconds passed.

His eyes searched yours for any sort of answer. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?” It was as much of a response as you could muster; your thoughts were all over the place.

He rocked onto his toes nervously. “You don’t wanna know what I want you to say.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, beginning to fiddle with your fingers - a bad habit you nurse when you find yourself in uneasy situations. You were mute again, unknowing how to even begin to navigate this conversation.

“Don’t pick at your fingers like that, it's bad for you.”

You let out an incredulous exhale. “I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about proper hand-care.” You teased lightheartedly, glancing down to his own torn knuckles from last night’s fight. “Let me get you some bandages.” You said, composing yourself some and brushing past the tall boy hurriedly. He never stopped you.

You wandered down the hallway into yours and Chifuyu’s shared bathroom, scouring the medicine cabinet for the proper first aid. As you pulled out the products, Baji settled himself on top of the toilet seat, looking around absentmindedly.

Grabbing disinfectant, you took his right hand in yours. Part of you was a little nervous to hold his hand, but you brushed it off. “This might sting a little.” You warned, before applying the compound to his small cuts.

His hand twitched in yours. “I’m not a pussy, that was just a reflex.”

“Sure,” You taunted, taking the bandage and rolling his knuckles up in them, securing it so it wouldn’t unravel. “Other hand.”

Reciprocating your actions, you could feel Baji’s smile without even seeing it. When you were finished, you shoved the unused bandages to the side. “All done.”

“So are you even gonna ask why I’m here?”

You leaned against the counter, thinking about exactly what you wanted to say. “I have a couple thoughts of my own on why you’re here.”

“I’m all ears.”

Scrunching your nose in mock annoyance, you huffed. “I think you were lying last night when you said you didn’t beat up Kisaki for me.”

Baji nodded his head, running a hand through his hair. “Would it be so bad if I told you you were right?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I thought you hated me.” He exclaimed. “You’re not exactly subtle about how annoyed you are with me so much as being near you.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed in disbelief. “Please, you make it your life mission to bother the absolute hell out of me. Anytime I’m with you and Chifuyu, you practically beg me to leave you guys alone.”

“Maybe I’m just bad at making friends, okay! You know I’m not that smart, how on earth am I supposed to act around someone like you?!” His words became progressively more passionate, more urgent - it was undeniable that he was starting to ramble, letting any and every thought he had just fall past his lips in an effortless revelation. He was on his feet now, and suddenly the small bathroom became a confined, suffocating space; taking a frantic breath, he stepped past you, out into the hall. Finally, he could breathe.

You trailed behind him, suddenly becoming shy as you listened to him drone on.

“I don’t even know why I came here, to be honest. I-I just couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking about you and - fuck, that sounds creepy...” He turned on his heel, hands finding his head again, burying the bandaged fingers deep in the roots of his hair. “It’s pathetic, honestly, because you’re so smart and mature even though you’re younger than me and you’re already so successful going to university...it doesn’t make any sense at all, really, but for some reason I-” He stopped his manic monologue, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes before speaking again. “I like you, regardless of the way you ridicule me and constantly tell me to shut up and - shit, I even like the way you call me dumbass. You have no idea what you do to me, and you don’t even try.”

He ran out of things to say, it seemed - or maybe he just wanted to give you a chance to add something to the conversation. You couldn’t tell in the dim lighting of the hallway, but his hands were shaking ever so slightly; he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, as if they were a safe haven and would rid him of his uneasiness.

Before you could utter a single word, he spoke again. “Sorry if this is all too much, I just didn’t know what to do, a-and I’m bad with my words so I probably didn’t do a good job of explaining exactly how I feel-”

“If you’re bad with your words, then show me.” You said, a newfound confidence overcoming you out of nowhere.

Your words left him dumbfounded. He quirked a thick eyebrow. “What did you just say?”

“I said…” You took a step closer to him, “Show me how you feel.”

He wasted no time in closing whatever space was left between the two of you, hands finding either side of your face and pulling you to him. Crashing his lips onto yours, it was a wonder how your knees didn’t give out right then and there; you immediately melted into him, lips working feverishly against his and gladly welcoming his exploring tongue. It was almost as if he read your mind, clutching onto your shoulders and backing you up against the wall, somehow deepening the kiss further.

Barely detaching his hungry lips from yours, he mumbled against your lips. “You want me to show you what I’m feeling right now?”

Before you could even form a response, he drove his hips into yours, allowing you to feel just how hard he was and pulling a quiet whimper from your chest. This time, your knees did buckle under you, but Baji made sure to keep you upright between his strong hands. “Thought you were stronger than that, Angel. Don’t go tapping out on me just yet.”

You fluttered your eyes open, already drunk off his actions and butterflies forming in your tummy. His dark eyes held your gaze, so moody and mysterious, you found yourself getting lost in them. How did you never realize it before? How enchanting his eyes were, the specks of gold seemingly shimmering down at you. You knew your disdain for him didn’t allow you to feel anything other than aggravation towards him, but after what transpired last night, you couldn’t help but feel pure, unadulterated admiration towards him.

Maybe he really did care about you all this time.

Just the mere thought of this led you to kissing him once more, wrapping your arms around his neck, clutching onto him as if your life depended on it. All you could think about was how you wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in his touch. Tongues battling for dominance, though he was clearly winning, you moaned into his mouth as his wandering hand brushed up your side to eagerly paw at your breast.

“Kei…” You panted, the two of you catching your breath for a fleeting second.

He smiled down at you, showing off his cute little fangs. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “What else have you been waiting to do with me?”

That certainly wasn’t the reply he was expecting. His cock pulsed beneath the fabric of his sweats at your words; he couldn’t even begin to explain what he wanted to do with you - what he wanted to do to you. As if it was possible, you had managed to make him even more turned on. Your aura captivated every ounce of his being; your smile, your scent, your touch, everything tumbled together in his mind and ran straight to his dick.

His body moved faster than his mind - in one effortless movement, he threw you over his shoulder and charged down the hall to your room, leaving you a mess of giggles. He thought about his hand placement, though, one strong hand over your ass to ensure you didn’t fall. Tossing you onto your bed, you smiled up at him as he crawled over you, immediately rolling his hips against yours and attaching his lips to your neck.

The tiny room was filled with the sounds of your breathy moans while Baji left wet, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. A bandaged hand joined in, wrapping itself lightly around your neck. He slid a thigh in between yours, allowing you to grind your throbbing cunt against him.

“Kei, fuck” you gasped, feeling his fangs sink into your flesh as he marked you, running his hot tongue over the bruise once he was pleased with the result.

“Need something, Angel?” He asked innocently, punctuating his question with another grind of his hard-on against your heat.

“Wait,” you spoke quietly, squeezing his arm to catch his attention.

Instantly, he pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

Turning coy, you brought your hand down to grab his bulge, fitting your hand perfectly around his length. “Have you been waiting for me to suck your cock?”

His cheeks flushed a deep rose color, his breathing halting when you palmed over him. Ever so slightly, he nodded his head and swallowed hard. “Yeah, I can’t count the times I’ve dreamt about the way those pretty lips of yours would look around my dick, Angel.”

Satisfied with his answer, you pecked his lips quickly. “Go lock the door.”

He left your side in a hurry, darting across the room to slam the door shut and locking it, returning back to you - who sat with her legs hanging off the end of the bed. Approaching you, he craned down to capture your lips in another rushed kiss, groaning as your hands found the waistband of his sweatpants. He broke the kiss, pulling his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side.

Shoving the fabric down, you didn’t hold back from smirking at the clear imprint of his cock, still veiled behind his thin briefs. You noticed the darker spot in the fabric, clearly a result of his leaking tip. Running your hands over his backside, you brought him closer to you, wide eyes maintaining eye contact as you pressed a chaste kiss to the head.

“Fuck, ___.” He groaned, brushing some of your hair over your shoulder and out of the way.

You couldn’t wait any longer, tearing the fabric off and allowing his painfully hard dick to spring up and slap against his abdomen. It was long and thick, flushed a pretty pink at the tip and littered in veins. Staring down his impressive size, you licked your lips, eager to wrap them around his cock.

Your eyes lit up at a particularly prominent vein running the length of his shaft; you ran your tongue slowly, delicately along that pulsating vein. You knew that the teasing drove him wild from the shaky breath he released, inflating your ego even more. Swirling your tongue tantalizingly slow around his head, you quickly took him into your mouth, forcing as much of his length as you could possibly fit without gagging.

The sudden action caused him to thrust himself further into your mouth. “Shit, s-sorry, you just - fuck...” He stammered, and you pulled off him entirely, connecting a thin string of saliva from your lip to his head.

“Don’t apologize,” You assured him, licking your lips once more and feeling confident. “Do it again.”

And your lips were around him once more; you tried steadying your breaths as you bobbed your head, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed reflexively around him, earning yet another strained moan from the brunette.

Both his hands were on your head, somewhat aiding you as you worked yourself along his cock. He pushed your head just a little deeper, and you relaxed yourself, enabling him to finally feel that snug feeling of your throat that he’s been so patient for. “Fuck, Angel, take my fucking cock...just like that,” He chanted, adoring the way your throat felt around him.

Tears brimming your eyes, you came up for air, unable to contain your gag reflex any longer. Giving your mouth a second to rest, you spit in your hand, wrapping it around his dick and harshly jerking him off.

Taking him in your mouth again, one hand fondled his balls gently. Baji continued to fuck your face, and you loved every second of it. It was pathetic how much you enjoyed the way his tip kissed the back of your mouth, how your throat stretched around him to take his girth. You couldn’t stand the way your clit was throbbing, so your free hand traveled to rub yourself over your shorts.

He cracked his eyes open, noticing the way you began touching yourself, and immediately tugged on your hair to pry you off his cock. “Look at you, thinking you can get yourself off from your tiny little hand.”

“Please, Kei,” You whined, hands working at undoing your shorts and sliding them down your legs.

“Want me to touch you, Angel?” He proposed, gesturing for you to lay flat on your back. You nodded your head feverishly in response, tugging your sweater over your head so you were just left in your panties and bralette. His hungry eyes trailed over your body, taking in all your beauty laid out for him. A lone hand traveled to cup your left breast. “You’re gonna have to beg a little harder, then.”

Groaning, you brought your hands up around his neck. “Kei, please, I need you inside me.”

An eyebrow curled quizzically. “Do you need my fingers?” He asked, pulling your panties to the side and swiping a finger between your wet folds. You moaned as he dipped the slender digit deep into your hole, instantly curling and hitting that sweet spot you can never seem to reach on your own.

He bent down to kiss over the bruise he left along your neck earlier, hovering his head right next to your ear as he whispered, “Or do you need me to fuck you?”

Your walls clenched around his long finger at his words, hips bucking up to indicate just how desperate you were for him to ruin you. “Fuck, please fuck me, Kei. I need your cock.” If you weren’t as turned on, you would’ve hated yourself for sounding so needy, but after getting a glimpse of just how big he was and how nice he fucked your mouth, you couldn’t resist him.

He sent you a devilish smirk, fangs on display as he ripped your panties off. “That’s better, Angel.”

Lifting your hips slightly, he guided his tip between your swollen lips, covering it in your arousal. That wasn’t enough for him, though; allowing a fat pearl of saliva to fall past his lips onto your quivering hole, he dragged his tip through his spit before sinking it into you.

“Fuck,” he rasped, eyes locked on how you swallowed his length further and further, hugging him so tightly.

You couldn’t help the pornographic moan you released as he entered you, feeling the way you contracted around his frenulum. You swore you could feel every one of his veins against your walls as he pushed into you slowly.

Bottoming out, you felt his balls rest against the curve of your ass; you mentally thanked him for giving you a second to adjust to the sheer size of him, because as soon as you gave him the silent signal to keep going, he never stopped.

Nearly drawing himself all the way out of you, he forcefully thrust right back in just for you to let out another moan. It was music to his ears, the way you moaned from his cock splitting you open. Desperate hands yanked your bralette down, putting your tits on display for him as they bounced with every ruthless thrust of his hips.

God, you’re gorgeous, he thought to himself. The image of you burned into his mind so it was impossible for him to forget. He filed it away in his head - the sight of you spread for him, a moaning mess with his markings painted on your skin, eyes screwed shut in intoxication - for him to remember whenever he was alone in his bedroom. He didn’t know if he was ever going to have you like this again, so he had to make sure this time counted.

He didn’t know it yet, but you never wanted this to end, so helplessly obsessed with the boy who only two days ago presumably hated you.

Despite not knowing, he did everything in his power to make sure you came crawling back to him. “Shit, Angel,” he puffed, not easing up on his pace, “You like the way my cock stretches you out, hm?”

All you could manage was a whimper in response, forcing your eyes open to stare up at him. He just smirked down at you, giving you a slow but deep thrust, kissing your cervix. His eyes flickered down to the little bulge below your naval that he created, bringing a bandaged hand to your tummy and pressing down.

“Look at that, Angel - I’m in your stomach.” He brought that same hand away from your abdomen and placed it around your neck, resuming his former harsh tempo of fucking into you. “No one can fuck you like me, isn’t that right, ___? This is my pretty little pussy.”

You nodded your head, tongue lolling out of your mouth. “Right, Kei. ‘S all yours.”

That familiar coil was winding in your stomach; chasing your high, you brought two fingers down to lazily circle your clit. He squeezed your neck tighter, aiding you in reaching your climax. “You gonna cum for me, Angel?”

Loving how his choking made your head feel a little dizzy, you clenched around his cock in reply. You fastened the pace of your fingers, and the unrelenting snap of his hips against yours pushed you over the edge. Contracting hard around his dick, your powerful orgasm finally hit you. “Keisuke, fuck!”

Being the gentleman he was, he fucked you through your high, but the second your breathing settled, he completely pulled out of you. Before you could even ask what he was doing, his deep voice ordered you: “On your hands and knees, I’m not done with you yet.”

The command went straight to your pussy. Despite how fucked out you were already, you rolled onto your stomach willingly, sticking your ass up and resting on your wobbly arms.

Baji knelt down behind you, running his tongue up your sensitive slit. You inhaled sharply from the feeling of his wet muscle against your already sopping hole; when you felt him kitten lick your taint, chills ran up your back, but you leaned back further into him, not wanting his mouth to leave your core.

“You taste amazing, Angel.” He exhaled, kissing your hole a final time.

He abruptly moved away, taking the base of his cock in his hand and sheathing himself into your abused cunt once again. Baji kneaded the flesh of your ass, mouth watering at how his dick disappeared into you. He smacked your right cheek hard enough to leave an imprint, and he groaned at the sight.

A large hand rested on the small of your back, and though he wasn’t forceful, the slight pressure had you buckling under your own weight due to your exhaustion. You moaned into your comforter as he rutted into you again and again, balls slapping your overstimulated clit.

“You fucked out already?” He chuckled, before he grabbed a handful of your hair and jerked you upwards, curving your back into a pretty arch. “There we go, Angel. Now I can hear how pretty you sound.”

“Kei…” You whined. If it was even possible, this new position allowed Baji to hit deeper spots inside of you; each drive of his cock against your walls made you see stars. The only word you could think of was his name - he completely fucked you dumb. “Fuck, Kei-”

The squelching sounds of your pussy filled the room as he mercilessly pounded into you. He hung his head back in pleasure, feeling his own climax approaching quickly. Your second orgasm of the night was building too, much quicker than the first.

“Angel, shit, love how you squeeze me,” A groan came from behind you and he let go of your hair, another hand crashing down on your ass.

Face planted in the sheets, your cries were muffled as they came tumbling out, the tension in your stomach becoming unbearable. You gripped his cock harshly as you came, your juices spilling out of you and coating Baji’s abdomen.

The way you squirted around him sent him over the edge; he pulled out of you at the last possible minute before his hot cum spurted out of his slit, covering your ass and lower back. “Fuck…” He sighed, stroking his cock languidly as he continued to paint your back with his release.

He swiped the hair that clung to his glistening forehead out of the way before climbing off the bed, grabbing the box of tissues off your dresser and bringing them over. You continued to sit there, face down and ass up, as you panted, trying to catch your breath. Your overstimulated pussy continued to flutter around nothing as he cleaned his cum off your skin, tossing the used tissues on your nightstand.

You finally rolled onto your back, turning your head and watching as he cleaned himself off. Feeling your face heat up, you covered your eyes with your arm; that was the first time you’ve ever squirted, and you were starting to think it wasn’t possible for you to. Clearly, you just needed to be fucked right.

He joined you back on the bed, lying next to you and letting out a long exhale. “Y’know, I’m never gonna be able to fuck my fist again after feeling that heavenly pussy of yours around me.”

You looked at him, letting out a tired laugh. “Who said you can’t just come over anytime you’re in the mood?”

“This wasn’t a one time thing?” He asked, feeling his heart flutter in his chest, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

You shrugged. “It can be a one time thing, but I was hoping otherwise.”

He smiled, pulling you into a warm embrace and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up the topic of labels, so the two of you just continued to lay there in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

It wasn’t until you heard the distant open and shut of your front door were you pulled out of your post-sex haze. Then, the familiar rattle of your doorknob. “___? Let me in... can we talk for a sec?”

You and Baji looked at each other, wide eyed and somewhat fearful. There was no way the two of you were getting out of this one.

#baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #baji keisuke smut #baji x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #baji keisuke fanfic #not sfw #ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ after hours ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

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rnelodyy · 3 years

Text

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!tommy #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #i had a COMPLETELY different point that i wanted to make but then i thought about it and went w a i t #uhhh if you wanna hear my original point lemme know i guess #anyway c!dream is such an interesting character! i hate him!#little green bastard man #c!dream critical

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jennagrinsoverml · 3 years

Note

Do you have any Adrien-centric angst fics? Like, fics that will completely gut you emotionally and you have to lay down for an hour after you read it just to decompress?something like that?

I've recced angst fics before, but let's have some SADRIEN hours around here, shall we?

a fight that you were born to lose by @captainkirkk

When the prosecution starts throwing around the word victim in reference to Adrien, he has to stuff his hands under his thighs to keep himself from bolting out of the courtroom.

Adrien had felt unsafe during those last few weeks, but, until he had woken up and seen Father silhouetted in his bedroom doorway, that had only been paranoia. Father was controlling and cold, but he wasn’t hateful. Adrien was isolated. He was often hungry. And some weeks ago, when he had snuck out to visit Nino, sitting thigh-to-thigh on his bed while Adrien cried in that silent, crumbling way of his, he hadn’t argued when Nino put a hand on his shoulder and said, tentatively, That’s abuse.

But Adrien remembers being small and Father touching his hair after he’d aced another test; Father holding his scribbled drawings like they were something precious, and framing them around his office; Father, dressed as Hawkmoth, his eyes wild behind the mask, lashing his sword against Adrien’s baton; Father, collapsed against Mum, crying into her ashy hair.

Adrien finds out Gabriel is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel gets to bring his long-waited plan into action.

One-shot. (But a LONG one-shot--it's 18k.) This one really digs deep into the abuse that Adrien suffers at Gabriel's hands and the emotional fallout from that. Gabriel is really, really, really terrible here. Worse, I don't think it's OOC at all. This fic is gorgeous, but it's a hard read and it goes to some dark places.

Anhedonia/When Adrien Met Marinette... by @mikauzoran

Chat Noir hadn’t been lying when he told Ladybug he’d moved on. It was only when he found out that Ladybug was Marinette that he realized he was wrong. Meanwhile, Marinette thinks that she’s missed her chance when Adrien insists that he’s gotten over his feelings. Now, they’re roommates and making themselves miserable as they pine for one another, thinking the situation’s hopeless. Things finally come to a head, and they’re forced to sit down and have an honest conversation about their feelings.

One-shot. Adrien's just so sad and lonely and pining here, and I'm here for it. I really found myself getting swept away in his feelings as I was reading. This isn't dark and doesn't get into any heavy issues like some of the other fics on this list, but I found that it was very relatable and evoked a lot of emotion.

Adrien and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @vickyvicarious

Chat Noir's used to bad luck - it kind of comes with the territory. But detransforming in the middle of a crowd of reporters is a little worse luck than he’s used to having.

And he hasn’t heard a thing from Ladybug since.

(AKA the "everyone finds out all at once" angst fic no one asked for.)

One-shot. Oof, does this one ever hurt. Adrien's painfully in-character, and the way he's trying so very hard to stay positive even as his life is completely falling apart and everyone keeps hurting him...it's so him and it packs a punch.

The Importance of the Black Cat by @chatonne-rousse

Plagg gets down almost two full wedges of cheese before Adrien sits down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Plagg?” His voice is quiet but doesn’t betray any emotion yet. That’s actually more worrying.

Steeling himself, Plagg swallows the last big bite of cheese and zips from the desk to perch on top of the globe, facing his holder. “What’s up?”

He heaves another sigh before looking up into Plagg’s eyes, emotions still unreadable.

“How important is the black cat?”

*****

Adrien has a lot on his mind - concerns, questions, doubts. And right now, he has only one being to confide in. There is not enough cheese in the world to make Plagg want to handle this situation, but his holder needs him, and he knows two things with certainty: his very important place in the world, and that no one hurts his kitten. Not if he has anything to say about it.

One-shot. You want some season 4 flavour Adrien angst? How about some post-Optigami wallowing? I love the portrayal of Adrien and Plagg's relationship with the mix of light and heavy. Pretty sure I still owe Rosie a sequel to this one because I wanted to see more resolution afterwards and made the mistake of sharing my thoughts on that 🙈 It's just very thought-provoking!!

Working Past It by Taitai83

Chat is deeply hurt by Ladybug's actions, and he needs to process those feelings. He finds that confiding in a friend is helpful in finding clarity.

One-shot. Here, have some more season 4 angst! This one is shamefully overlooked. Go read it and help fix that!! Remember when Gang of Secrets came out and we all wondered how Chat would react when he found out Ladybug told someone her identity? This was an early stab at that, and I found the reactions and thought processes here to be so in character. Plus there's some nice marichat hurt/comfort, though purely platonic.

Timetagger 3 by rosebud1000

Years after Hawkmoth's defeat, Marinette and Adrien encounter Timetagger for the third time. And this battle hits closer to home than any other.

One-shot. Here we have some more of the fallout from Gabriel being a shitty parent, only we have an adult Adrien who is a father himself struggling to reconcile how his father acted with his own parental feelings. As a parent, I really felt this one.

Chat Noir's Family by fleurjaune

The thing is-

The thing is Adrien doesn’t actually mean to lie. Not at first anyway, but they have to keep their secret identities secret don’t they?

And his family, well, their tragedy is out there for the world to see and the world did see it.

One-shot. The more Chat lies about his life and his family, the more we learn about Adrien and see how he wishes his life was. And that chasm...really fucking hurts. I wish this sweet boy could have the kinds of relationships and family dynamics he lies about.

Partners by @karkalicious769

"Um." Alya fidgeted nervously as her earrings beeped their countdown. "Ask me a question that only Ladybug would know the answer to."

Chat Noir barred his teeth, and— Were they always that sharp? At least he wasn't growling again. "You are not Ladybug," he snapped.

"Just do it!"

It was all Alya had to go off of and she really needed to pull this partnership together before the akuma got any worse. She wasn't deluded enough to think that she could do this without Chat Noir.

One-shot. SPOILERS FOR HACK-SAN!!! And yet some more season 4 feels because let's be serious, this season is putting our kitty through the ringer. And this fic definitely does it, though by playing with the episode a little. Although we've got a tight Alya POV, Adrien's hurt and suffering is palpable, and made all the worse by how resigned he is. Read this and sufferrrrrr.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #ml fanfic #ml fic rec #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #angst #fic recs #jennarecsml

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Ch. 15-Final)

Chapter Summary: THE END.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: I don’t wanna spoil anything, but if you’ve read the story so far and handled well with everything, there’s nothing to be worried about. If there’s anything you definetely can read and want to check if you’re safe, feel free to ask me about it beforehand.

A/N 1: Thank you Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer for having my back for these last chapters. Love you. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. More notes at the end of the chapter.

It’s a funny feeling to have to knock on the door which you’ve spent so long mindlessly walking right through after opening it with your own key. Yeah, it’s funny… but also a surprisingly liberating and exciting sensation. It’s just like a feeling of meeting someone new living inside you. Or someone you just didn’t know was already there, waiting for you to acknowledge them. But a great deal of what you were and had just feels foreign to you now. Like that door to your place, except this isn’t your place anymore, so you knock on the wood softly and wait to be allowed to come in.

You don’t have to wait long as you’ve barely knocked and the door is opened, with Eddie appearing in front of you.

“Hi, you’re back,” he lets out a breathy smile, a tad of nervousness on his voice.

“Hi…” you tighten your lips, not knowing how to react to the excited “you’re back” that has just blurted out of his lips. You want things with Eddie to go as smoothly as possible and you definitely don’t want another argument. Not now when you’re so eager to just do what you have to do there and then go find Bucky, “Ahm…I’ve just come back from the mission and checked in to a hotel, I need to grab some of my stuff. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh…” disappointment hardens his face as his chin lifts up, “Alright. Come in,” he nods, stepping aside.

With tentative moves, you enter your former home before Eddie shuts the door behind him, “Ahm…Can you believe I forgot my phone?” You chuckle lightly, nodding at the device on the center table in the living room, “I had to use the company’s one the entire time.” You comment, reaching over for your phone and attaching it to the Stark mobile battery charger.

As Eddie leans back against the door, you ignore the intensive and unsettling stare he holds on you while your phone’s screen lights up. You rush to check your missed calls and your heart skips a beat when you find out several of them from Bucky. Did you really have to be so stupid about forgetting your phone there?

Your eyes lift from your phone to Eddie for a moment while a thought crosses your mind… Did he see those calls? Could he have answered one of them? No… Eddie and you might not be on the best of terms right now, but you know his character, he wouldn’t…

“Your boy toy wouldn’t stop calling,” he says, his voice as bitter as his words, “Until he decided to drop by.”

“What?” You barely whisper as your heart rushes in your chest. “Bucky?”

Eddie scoffs, uncrossing his arms and leaning away from the door, “Yeah… Bucky…Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes,” he says the name you have in your contacts for Bucky in a mocking tone, “Do you have another boy toy by any chance? Dear God, Y/N…”

You register the vicious mockery coming from him, but you don’t even care while your eyes roam around the room, spotting all of the boxes with Eddie’s stuff next to your stuff, “What did he want?” You ask, your breathing becoming erratic at the possible outcomes from that encounter.

“The fuck I know.” He shrugs, walking over you, “He didn’t stay long.”

“What did you tell him, Eddie?” Your head tilts while you ask in an almost defeated tone, fingers gripping your phone hard.

His face hardens even more now that he’s right in front of you, “I told him the truth, that this is our home.” He gestures around before lunging at you and grabbing your arm, pulling you close to him, “And that what you and I have isn’t just a shitty deal with a boy toy that can be destroyed by a small and unimportant glitch.” He spits.

Your vision turns into a blur while a thick lump of pure anger lodges in your throat. You harshly pull your arm and, expressing a strength you didn’t even know you had, you push him, making him trip backwards, “Fuck you, Eddie.” You push him again, this time even stronger, making his ass fall to the ground, staring up at you with big and incredulous eyes that makes you anger even bigger, “Fuck you, I thought we could’ve salvage something of our relationship, become respectful with each other at least, for our history’s sake,” you scoff pointing down at him, ”But I see now there’s just no fucking point.” You shake your head while your teeth clench.

As you move to step past him, he swiftly stands up and grabs your elbow again. “Y/n, please… don’t go. We can talk-”

“Fuck off, Eddie.” You shake your arm away, untangling it from his hold once and for all, “I have no time to waste talking to you.” You hurriedly move towards the way out, but before you leave the place, you turn back to him, “And just so you know, he’s not my boy toy, or a shitty deal, he’s the fucking love of my life.” You state, slamming the door on your way out.

~~~

“Goddammit, Bucky, is it too much to ask for you to wait for us, you’re being too careless,” Steve chastises through the comms.

“I told you… we should’ve brought Sam.” Nat’s voice comes to his ears.

“Fuck off, Romanoff. And you, too, Punk. You’re the last person who can say anything about being careless on missions.” Bucky hisses, being way ahead of his partners in exploring the alleged facility they are supposed to turn down from some assholes, A.I.M is what they called themselves. The third facility from that mission. Gun machine pointed ahead, he kicked open another door, finding nothing in the room again, “Besides, this place is dead, that was probably a false lead.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Nat, the receiver of the lead, scoffs, “And you would know that if you had stayed for briefing before jumping out of the quinjet in your bike, like fucking Mad Max.”

“Bucky!”

The loud voice on his ears, not Nat’s voice and definitely not Steve’s, makes him halt at once before he can kick open the next door.

“Y/N?” He frowns, not trusting his ears.

“Oh, shit.” Now, that’s definitely Steve and Nat talking in unison.

“Bucky, thank God. Finally. I need to talk to you.”

Bucky notices the relief but also the urgency in your voice. It doesn’t help him at all to figure out what the hell it’s happening, but he registers his heart racing by listening to your voice.

“Y/N?” He repeats himself, “What the hell? Where are you? Are you ok?” The thought that maybe some way you ended up as a hostage in that mission brings a lump to his stomach and his heart beats even faster.

“Yes, I’m mean, no… not really,” you speak quickly, “I’m safe, but I need to talk to you. I’m heading to the safe house designated for this mission right now. I’m gonna wait for you there.”

“What?” Bucky’s mind races trying to understand what the hell it’s happening. “I can’t… I-I have nothing to talk to you about.” He steadies his voice when he feels it faltering.

He hears a scoff that he knows it’s Nat’s, but he says nothing, ignoring the nosey fuckers.

“Bucky… please,” you plead, the desperation present in your tone, “You have no idea how many codes I had to break find you and to get here.”

Fuck…

“You’re having a hard on right now, aren’t you?” Nat asks, breaking through the silence with amusement on her voice.

“He always had a weakness for the smart ones.” Steve comments. Whispering. Like that would help the jerk to remain unnoticed.

“You two stay fucking quiet over there,” Bucky chastises – even though neither of them were lying - while he listens to you clearing your throat, “What do you need to talk about?” He addresses you again, a bit too harshly, already regretting that reaction, but allowing the little bit of spite inside his heart to lead him on, “Is your fiancé there with you?” He clenches his teeth, “Y/N listen, I don’t want explanations, or pity-“

“Fiancé?” You practically screech into his ears, “Pity? Hell, no. It’s not what you’re thinking. Not at all. Eddie lied to you. That’s why I’m here, we need… we need to talk. There’s so much I need to say to you.”

“Like what?” Bucky whispers, heart jumping inside his chest. The fucker lied to him? Does that mean…

“Like I love you.” You burst out, punching the air out of his lungs, “Like I fucking fell in love with you and now you’re thinking I don’t, and I can’t wait another second to tell you everything I’m feeling.”

“What?” He checks, once again in barely a whisper, once again not trusting his ears.

“I love you, ok? I love you, Bucky.” You repeat, trying to speak with a calmer tone, but uneasiness still sweeps into your words.

Silence settles on his comms. No more words from you or from the snooping couple he knows is still there, listening to everything, as well. All he can listen to is his heart, frantically pounding against his chest.

“Meet you at the safe house?” You tentatively ask after a long moment of stillness.

That’s the precise moment the door in front of Bucky opens and he meets with a room full of armed assholes.

“I’ll be there in 15.” He states firmly, pointing his gun ahead.

In precisely seven minutes he has almost the entire room on the floor. He’s about to break the last man standing’s arm when Nat and Steve come running into the room.

“Fucking hell,” Nat exclaims, taking in the place.

“We’ll take it from here, now you go to that goddamn safe house,” Steve says with a teary beam – the big softie - and points to the way out.

Like hell Bucky would waste another second.

~~~

He’s been inside the place for several minutes already, which seems like an eternity, legs quivering while he sits on the first dusted armchair he’s seen, he’s biting on his nails when he hears the knock on the door.

Not two seconds and he has the door opened, meeting with the sight of you. Panting and disheveled and perfect. And he freezes. Not one muscle inside him moves. Except for his stupid mouth.

“You love me,” he says, spontaneously, the words mindlessly coming out of his lips like in a dream.

You’re visibly taken aback at the line as you gasp and your eyes widen a fraction.

Shit… What the hell is wrong with him? He swiftly clears his throat, “Ahm, hi,” he manages to say, praying that somehow, he could erase that first sentence.

“Hi,” you answer, still clearly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers, but not taking your anxious eyes away from him, until you take in a harsh breath, “Yes, yes, I love you,” you burst out, while you suddenly step inside the place, walking past him, “I’ve been so stupid, but I was confused,” you drop your purse on the floor and, gesticulating and shaking your head, continue, “I-I thought I wasn’t sure about you, and then I was afraid I was gonna hurt you, but ended up hurting you anyway. God, I wanna kill Eddie, but no, I’m not here to talk about him,” you pace around, your trembling hands all over the place.

While you keep your rumbling confession, you miss Bucky slowly making his way to you.

“I’m here to talk about us, I mean… if you still feel how you told me you felt, I mean… after what Eddie told you, I don’t know if you still feel the same way, but I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I had work to do, and I forgot my stupid phone, I-”

You sulk in a breath when Bucky is right in front of you. Staring intently into your eyes. You inhale some needed air, slowly, “I love you,” you say again, “I had no idea things would go this way, I didn’t even know that love could feel like this, so…” you search for the word taking another breath, “so damn wonderful. But it does, and I love you, I do. So much. I had a whole speech prepared, but that’s it. I love you.” You shrug.

Still unable to move a muscle or utter a word, Bucky keeps staring at you, like he’s in some sort of trance.

“Ahm…” You gulp, “Don’t you wanna maybe, ahm, say something?” Your voice falters, before you bite your lower lip, as if it’s getting hard for you to breathe.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky finally speaks, and, with the word choice, he can see the smile that threatens to curl your lips, but just don’t get through because you’re still clearly too nervous to allow yourself to smile, “I love hearing you talk.” He steps closer, seriousness all over his voice, “I could listen to you all day, all my life, but right now, I really want to kiss you, ok?”

That smile fully curls your lips now and Bucky smiles, too, but it’s short lived and replaced by a “humpf” as you jump on him and crash your lips on his.

He catches you and the craving you two feel for each other are expressed in the urgency of the kiss. Fingers grasp his locks. While you pull him by the neck, he pulls you by the waist, fireworks on his brain and his guts, pure longing for the proximity of his girl. His love.

Having you like that, kissing you, holding you, knowing how you feel about him is dazzling, mind-blowing, his senses falter and next thing he knows he’s sitting on the armchair with you across his lap.

Smiles surge through the kiss before you part from his lips, only to pepper kisses all over his face… neck… lips again, “I love you, I love you,” you repeat like a mantra between kisses, holding him with a strength he didn’t even know you possessed.

“God… sweetheart… I love you. You have no idea how much. You can never hurt me, don’t ever say that again. I love you,” he breathes, you thinking that you had hurt doesn’t go unnoticed by him, if only you could see how his poor heart is melting inside his chest with all the love he’s feeling and receiving from you.

His breath hitches when your teeth graze his neck, “I missed you…” You whisper, your voice becoming dangerously low while your hand wanders through his thigh, “And I missed this.” Your hand meets his crotch, caressing the bulge forming there, making Bucky’s brain short-circuit, “You’re so gonna love make up sex… I believe I have a lot of making up to do with Little Bucky.” You bite his earlobe, putting a bit of more friction over his bulge.

“Fuck… shit…” Bucky curses, “I want it so damn much, sweetheart, you have no idea how much, but, ahm…” He clears his throat, “Not in front of the baby.”

You lean back and frown at him, “Huh?”

Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and nods behind you.

You follow his gaze and there is Alpine. Seated on the carpet. Staring up at them, in all her confident and glorious demeanor.

“Oh.” You swiftly remove your hands from his pants. Suppressing a laugh in your lips, you turn to Bucky again, “What is Alpine doing here in the safe house from your very Avengey mission?”

“Yeah…” Bucky tickles his tongue before tightening his lips, holding you on his lap by your waist, “You know… she just can’t leave my side anymore. “

“Of course,” you put on a mocking frowning expression, nodding your head, “She is the one who can’t leave your side, yeah…” You chuckle.

He’s got a guilty smile on his lips, but before he can offer you a comeback, a meow catches your attention before Alpine jumps on your lap.

Bucky feels the tension on your body by the surprise as you stare down at the white cat.

“Bucky… Bucky…” you barely whisper, not moving your body in the slightest, while Alpine sniffs your hand before curling down comfortably on your lap.

“Oh my God,” You breathe and aim a disbelieved, yet incredibly satisfied smile at Bucky, still not moving a muscle as if you would break the spell if you did.

“I told her she would love you,” Bucky shrugs, feeling no surprise at all. He removes the arm from around your belly to allow Alpine to accommodate herself better.

“Aww, Bucky,” you coo, looking down and scratching behind Alpine’s ear, whose eyes shut at the petting, “You’re one protective little girl, aren’t you?” You address her, before turning to Bucky again, “I bet she knows I’m sure about you now, and there’s nothing she needs to worry about.”

“Is that so?” Bucky grins.

“That's so.” You nod, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek, “Although, I gotta be honest…” You say, leaning back, with a smirk, “I thought it would be harder to win you over now.”

“Sweetheart…” Bucky puffs with a scorning expression, shaking his head, ��The sooner you learn this the better: I’m a sucker for you.”

Your smile widens and you lean in to kiss him, but something catches your eyes behind his shoulder, “Ahm… is that my perfume?” You frown at the familiar bottle peeking out of his backpack thrown on the floor behind him.

Bucky doesn’t even look behind him, knowing he’s just been caught while you look back at him with amusement growing in your expression.

“Bucky Barnes, did you buy my perfume?” You ask with a gleeful voice.

Well, he better might as well use his armory, too, and, using the same tone of yours, he asks, “Is my name on your phone “Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes?”

You gasp, “How do you…” you start to ask, but doesn’t need to finish as you squint, “Nat…” You say in defeat.

Bucky laughs, while absentmindedly running a hand over Alpine’s back on your lap. “Face it. We’re a couple of creeps, sweetheart.”

You smile sweetly at him, “Yeah… But you’re my creep.” You lean over and peck his lips.

The sound of the door being burst open makes you yelp and almost fall from Bucky’s lap. He catches you steadily, while you hold Alpine protectively.

“Hello, lovebirds.” Nat has a smug smile on her face.

“Jesus, when will this ever stop?” Bucky glares at her, while you try to recover your breath.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you add, not bothered to leave your position on Bucky’s lap.

“Are they decent?” Steve’s voice is heard from the outside.

“Physically, yes. Morally? Never.” Nat answers, her smirk widening while she walks inside.

Steve then comes behind her, with a proud and excited smile on his lips.

“I knew this thing would work out,” Nat says, finger waving between you two.

You and Bucky look at each other and scoff, before you turn to her, “No, you didn’t. You were fucking terrified.”

Like a perfect eight-year-old and not the greatest spy on earth, Nat crosses her arms and, squinting, shows off her tongue at you.

And that’s when Alpine, still in your arms after the scare Nat gave you, hisses at her in her very peculiar and protective way. While Nat raises an eyebrow at her, your jaw drops and you exchange excited looks with Bucky before you smugly pet the cat’s head and tell her what a good girl she is.

Bucky decides, right then and there, having his two girls in his arms, that he’s the happiest bastard on the planet.

~~~

He is the one who knocks on the door while he holds your hand tightly. Bucky looks at you and smiles. When you look and smile back at him, he wonders if his heart would ever stop altogether at that sight, cause it sure feels like it every single time.

“Hey, oh-“ Eddie gulps down his words when he sees you at his door along with Bucky.

He obviously wasn’t expecting Bucky to be there, too, and it brings a smirk to Bucky’s lips, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Can I get my stuff now?” You ask and the sheer disdain in your voice could be enough to make Bucky hard right then and there, but he focuses on the glare on his face at the stupid short asshole in front of him.

Eddie’s gaze lifts from the joined hands before he looks at you and nods, an astonished expression on his face.

The scowl on your expression eases when you look back at Bucky with a smile, “Wait for me?”

“Sure sweetheart, call my name if you need me.” He smiles back before you lean in and peck his lips in front of Eddie.

Oh… his mischievous girl.

Without sparing one glance at the man on the other side of the door, you walk past him towards your former bedroom.

At the very same second Eddie makes a move to go after you, his shoulder is swiftly pushed against the doorframe by a metal hand.

“I know for a fact I can smash your head using only one of these,” Bucky waves his metal fingers in front of Eddie’s face, “That’s the reason why I haven’t laid them on you, yet, cause you know… I’m a good guy and stuff…but I’m willing to forget all about that and do it anyway if you take another step towards her,” Bucky threatens through his clenched teeth, “Am I clear?”

“Y-yes,” Eddie stammers, widen eyes on the metal hand.

“Now you go and sit on that pretty couch… which I know quite well, by the way,” a wicked smirk curls his lips, before the deadly glare shifts Bucky’s face again “And you wait there until we leave.”

When Bucky lets go of Eddie’s shoulder, the guy rushes to the sofa and stays there. Completely quiet and still, avoiding Bucky’s unyielding stare on him.

Minutes after, Bucky catches your packed bags for you and you walk away hand in hand without looking back.

~~~

As he takes quick steps to his place, Bucky can’t believe he’s finally going to see you again. Ever since you two finally set things up, work has been a complete bitch. He’s been called to another emergency mission, from which he has returned this morning, but then has been stuck in a conference room ever since. Fucking Nick Fury…As for you, you also had to work on the reports of your mission with Thor, and not even by phone you two have been able to talk much.

To be honest, it’s been only a couple of days, but now that he knows you love him back, he can’t wait to have you in his arms… and in some other parts of his body that’s been aching for you, too.

Thank God for Tony Stark, who just couldn’t cope with you staying at a hotel and, in a matter of hours, there was an apartment in the Tower waiting for you. Now that he’s only a few floors away, he plans on taking a quick shower and running straight to you.

His pace halts once he’s at his door. He frowns. Something’s out of place. Positioning his flesh hand over the gun on his thigh holster, he slowly turns down the knob of his door.

“Please, don’t shoot me.”

The sweetest of sounds, the sound of your voice makes him let out a relieved sigh right before a smile crosses his lips. He moves his hand away from his gun to open the door fully. The sight he catches when he does, takes his breath away all over again.

The lights are dim, only scented candles illuminate the place while rose petals pave the way from the door. There’s a small round table right there in the adjacent dining room, set with fine dishes and glasses and decorated with a crystal vase and fresh flowers.

Beautiful.

But not as beautiful as you. Standing there in his living room, wearing a short lace black dress with thin shoulder straps and a V-neck that makes his mouth water. You won’t be wearing that much longer, that much he knows as his pants become tighter.

He doesn’t realize for how long he’s been staring at you, until you move your gaze away for a second, biting your lips and scratching the back of your ear, “Hi,” you whisper and Bucky can see your shoulders getting a bit tense, “Welcome to our first date.” You give him a cringing smile and lift your arms, gesturing for him to see around the place, “Hope it’s not too much, though… I did spend a few hours fixing this up, Alpine was a doll and has been here keeping me company until she got bored and went to take a nap, I guess. I did not have time to cook but Tony offered his personal chef services and all we need is to call-”

After a few long steps he shuts your sweet nervous rambling by pressing his lips on yours. He pours all his love into the gesture and hopes he can erase whatever vestige of doubt and insecurity in that pretty mind of yours.

“I was dying to see you, sweetheart,” he says, breathing hard, just as you do, when he parts away, keeping both his hands on your cheeks, while you circle your arms around his waist. “This is… “ He looks around, “Incredible… You… shit… you look fucking sexy.” He groans, giving your body a once over, which makes you chuckle, “I’m only sorry you beat me to plan our first date. I should be the one to make all of this for you,” he says, tenderly brushing his thumbs on your cheeks.

You smile at him and tilt your head to place a kiss on his hand while one of yours starts drifting down his chest, “I’m still in debt with Little Bucky, aren’t I?” You wink at him while your wandering hand cups his cock through his pants, making him suck in a harsh breath, “And from now on I’m going to romance the shit out of you.” Your smile turns into a mischievous smirk.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes. Smiling, he leans over and captures your lips again. Not so gentle this time, since your cheeky words and your touch only makes the fire in him burn even hotter.

His hand drops from your face to your waist and he pulls you to him before he adventures down your ass, grabbing a handful of it through your dress, which makes you whimper through the kiss.

God, he loves the little sounds you produce when he touches you like that and he’s determined to coax a bit more out of you when he dips his hand under the hem of your dress and grabs your ass without the fabric’s barrier. But he’s the one to make a strangle sound to find out you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

“Fuck.” He parts from your lips only to ravish your neck, “Can the food wait a little, sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah… please.” You pant, still brushing your hand on his aching cock.

He drags his lips to yours again, making the kiss deep and sloppy, savoring the feel of your tongue on his, the sweet taste of your mouth. You hike up your thigh around his waist, and his hand moves from your ass to between your legs. You moan through his lips and he groans to find you wet and ready for him.

His naughty, naughty girl.

“Honey…” He breaks the kiss but keeps his finger drawing little circles on your lips, watching closely while your swollen lips part and your eyes flutter. “I promise I’m gonna take my time and properly savor you throughout this whole night, but right now?” He pants and shoves a finger inside your damp cunt, “I just can’t take any longer, I need to have you. I want you so badly, do you want me, too?” He coos, curling his fingers on the point that always makes you yelp, gaining the aimed reaction from it.

“Fuck…” You curl your arms around his neck and lean over to whisper on his ear, “Always, baby. Always… I want you to rail me.” You grind your hips on his hand, like you’re desperately trying to get off solely from that.

“Dear God, I fucking love you.” Bucky bites the crook of your neck, but removes his finger from your pussy to grab your ass again. When he makes you come for the first time that night is going to be with his cock deep inside you, not his finger.

Breathing hard, you lean back and drop your leg. You quickly start working on his uniform. Not long after, you let out a frustrated groan. “Who the hell makes those?” You frown, fumbling with the complicated stripes.

“No time to deal with that right now,” Bucky states, and with ease, he handles you, ruthlessly, just like the way he knows you love, until he has you seated on the big and fluffy armrest of his couch.

He twists your legs to the side over the cushions, “Let me see that pretty pussy,” Bucky pants, voice thick with desire, lifting your dress just enough to give him the view and the access, “Shit…” he curses under his breath when he catches an eye of your glistening folds.

While he keeps himself on his feet, he works on his belt and zipper with one hand and holds your hips with the other. He absolutely loves the way you’re looking up at him, with that gaze of yours of sheer anticipation, lust and satisfaction he always saw in your eyes, but now, there’s something more. Something else… love. Hell, if that doesn’t make him even harder for you.

“You make me so fucking hard, sweetheart,” Bucky pulls his aching cock away from his confines and without waiting another second, he bends his knees a bit to align with your position and enters you.

“Holy shit,” you both gasp in unison.

At the comforting feeling of your warm and tight cunt - fucking finally - Bucky just holds back and, encouraged by the sweet begs coming from your lips, he supports one of his knees on the cushions, holds your hips still and starts fucking you. Right there, over the armrest of his couch, you both fully clothed, but desperate for each other.

You feel so damn good around his cock, and so damn beautiful with your cheek sunk deep on the sofa, your hands holding yourself on where you can, eyes closed and lips parted, sweet and filthy sounds coming out of you.

Bucky feels his core tighter and tighter and he knows he’s not gonna last long. He’s been waiting for this for so long, so desperately. He loves you so much. He wants you so much.

He tells you that, while he shoves his cock relentlessly inside you and leans down, not resisting to pull one stripe of your dress to expose one of your breasts to him. You cry out when he grabs the soft flesh. His hand moving in the same rhythm of his hips. Hard and deep.

“Holy fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” you announce and, as soon as you open your eyes and your gaze meets his, your cunt squeezes his cock and you cry out. Not moving your hooded eyes away from his while you soak his cock with your climax.

Bucky is done for. If there had been any doubt of how much he’s a sucker for you, now it would be completely vanished. But, in fact, there hasn’t been any doubt about that in him for a really long time.

Having held himself back for a while now, the look on your face and you calling him “baby” are enough to make his pace become erratic and drive him to his own release. He moans and pants through the explosion of ecstasy, shoving his hips a few more times in you and filling you up with spurs of his pleasure.

You’re still fighting to breathe when Bucky leans over and crashes his mouth on yours, giving you a bruising kiss before sliding out of you and dropping his body on the couch next to you, not without pulling you with him.

He places you on his laps and you straddle his hips. You hold him, sinking your head on his neck, breathing him in. Your body shakes with the aftershocks of the pleasure you have just shared. The best orgasm he’s ever given you, the first one after you acknowledged and shared your feelings. Feels different… better… How you missed this… missed him…

“Enjoying our first date so far?” You ask, the sound of your voice coming out raspy and still breathless.

“Couldn’t be better,” he speaks, his hot breath fanning the skin of your neck.

You hold him even tighter and then giggle when you feel the wet touch of his tongue right there on the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck. You turn with the intention to kiss him and that’s when you realize he’s still in his mission uniform and you feel the fabric of your dress clinging to your skin, sticky with sweat.

You smile at him and brush your lips on his before getting up and, pulling him by the hand, you guide him to his bathroom.

This time he helps you with the strips of his gear and takes off your dress, before you two step into the shower. Nothing sexual happens, but that shared shower it’s one of the most intimate moments of your life. You leather him and he washes your hair. You play splashing water on him, and he kisses you. You hold him and he tells you he loves you.

After the shower you should’ve come back to the dining room and ordered your food, but he takes you to his bed instead.

You get between his legs and suck his cock, slowly, reverently, peppering sweet and small kisses all over it until you swallow his pleasure. He kisses and licks and bites every little inch of you, savoring you like he promised he would. He makes you come with his tongue right before he enters you again. Forehead to forehead, breath to breath, skin to skin.

“I love you” is whispered repeatedly between harsh breaths and long and deep thrusts. His hands and lips on your skin. Your teeth on his. With his cock in your cunt and his finger on your clit he begs to see you come, to squeeze and soak his cock and, after you do, completely out of breath, he reaches his climax, too. Like he always does, he finds pleasure by giving you yours.

Your man. Your love. Your Bucky.

He stays beside you while he kisses you, neither of you willing to break the connection, yet.

When he looks down on you, there’s something of mischief on his loving gaze and on the beautiful smile on his lips, “So…Little Y/N missed me, too, huh?”

Your eyes widen for a second and you choke on your laugh, “No.” You shake your head while he laughs, “Don’t even start. Absolutely not… But goddammit, you’re cute,” you pull him to give him a smooch on his lips and then on his nose, “Now...” you say, while he keeps the adoring gaze down on you, “I love you so much. But can we move forward with our first date and eat something?” You cringe, “I’m starving and it’s all your fault. And Little Bucky’s.” You quickly add.

His head falls back and his nose scrunches in that adorable way of his while he laughs, “Alright, let’s go… but first,” he stops you with his lips on yours when you excitedly try to get up.

The kiss is long and soft and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The hell with food, you’re pretty sure everything you need is right there, on top of you, kissing you and loving you like that, making your heart flutter and turning your legs into jelly.

You almost whine when he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours, “You know,” he whispers, “I found out that it’s not just my buddy down there who has a strict preference,” he smiles cheekily, and you can’t help but smile, too, before he puts on some playful and exaggerated drama on his voice, “Turns out, my poor old fragile heart has it, too, and I’m gonna need you to take good care of it.” He brings your hand over his chest, “Do we have a deal?”

Your smile grows even bigger, filled with love, before you give him your answer.

“Always.”

THE END.

~~~

A/N 2: There it is, guys, this was my attempt at writing some light and fun rom-com. I really hope some of you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It feels like I say this every time I finish a story, but I had so much fun writing it, this might be my favorite story so far. It’s definitely my favorite Bucky and I can’t part from him. That’s why I have a few oneshots planned so we can get a glimpse of their sexy adventures throughout their relationship, things that might’ve taken place during their deal, but also after what we’ve seen here in the main story.

I can’t thank you enough for the incredible support I’ve received for this story, I feel so fortunate for having such amazing readers, who I consider as a very important part of my life. I tried to engage and interact with most of you, sorry if I ended up missing a few responses. I do read and reread the comments and asks often, though. You make my days brighter. Thank you. Love you.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #it's a deal

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todrokishoto · 3 years

Text

fluff ft. bakugou, deku and todoroki

character(s): katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shouto todoroki

warning(s): i don’t think there are any? it’s just pure fluff. mentions of eating/food, though.

summary: just some fluff with the three musketeers.

a/n: found inspo from this prompt list so,,, enjoy! also, come talk to me about the first episode of season 5!!!

B A K U G O U

a pair of crimson eyes are staring at you when you reluctantly open your own. it takes a moment for you to adjust to the harsh rays of light fighting their way through the blinds. once you do though, you feel your brows furrow as you meet the gaze of your boyfriend. you offer a sheepish smile at his unamused face, seeing straight through him immediately.

“good morning to you, too, grump.”

his lips tighten as he studies your face. ignoring his scrutinizing gaze, you sit up, despite the protests from your body. you roll your neck, a sigh of relief escaping you as the tension eases. sensing your boyfriend’s urge to say something, you turn your head to look at him.

“no breakfast? i thought sundays were eat-breakfast-in-bed kind of days?” you’re teasing, naturally, but your words still spark something in your hot-headed partner.

he grunts. “i would’ve had breakfast ready but you were sleeping on my arm and i didn’t want to wake you.”

your heart swells as he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly finding the duvet covers very interesting. you push away the urge to continue your teasing, fully-aware of how easily it could turn into an argument if he isn’t in the mood. you smile at him when he meets your eyes again.

“your arm’s asleep, isn’t it?” you muse, noticing how he’s rubbing it with his other arm.

“yeah, no shit. because you slept on it for eight shitty hours.”

��how about i make breakfast today then?”

you throw the covers aside, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. when your feet are planted on the ground, you go to stand up but a hand wraps around your waist before you can do so. he pulls you back down effortlessly and you squeal, colliding with his bare chest.

“or we could order food and just stay in bed until it gets here,” katsuki suggests, his lips brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder.

M I D O R I Y A

“it’s so pretty,” you gush, your eyes fixated on the view in front of you.

the wind takes ahold of your hair, playing with it briefly before moving on. you wrap it back behind your ear mindlessly, still mesmerized by the scene unfolding before your eyes. the ocean sparkles underneath the remaining sunlight, reflecting the most perfect color palette from the sky above.

pinks, yellows, oranges, and blues mixed together so perfectly you can’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away. it had to have been one of the prettiest sunsets you had ever seen. you lean forward, analyzing every detail, feeling the railing press against your waist in the process.

there is no reply from your boyfriend and you turn in his direction. his wide, green eyes are already looking at you when you do so and you feel your heart speed up immediately. there’s a look within them that cannot be described as anything other than pure adoration.

“i love you,” your freckled partner blurts, a rosy color tinting his cheeks.

“i love you, too,” you respond, not even bothering to hide your wide grin. “i-is there something on my face though? you’re kind of—”

he shakes his head almost furiously, his wild green locks bouncing all over the place. you watch with amusement, the wings of the butterflies moving just as crazily as your boyfriend’s hair. he grabs your hand in his own and it still surprises you how perfectly your hands fit together, fingers intertwining immediately.

“i-it’s just... i remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror,” he pauses, his green orbs meeting yours again. “and now you’re my girlfriend and i just— feels kind of surreal, y’know?”

you nod, understanding his feelings exactly. “well, i’m glad you mustered up the courage to move on from the mirror. i can’t imagine my life without you, zuku.”

T O D O R O K I

the two of you are lying on his bed, limbs intertwined, noses almost touching. no words are being exchanged, just the sounds of your breathing filling the silence engulfing the room. yet, there is not an ounce of awkwardness. you’re both at ease with each other.

it took awhile to knock down his walls but you had been determined. during the months of your mission to get to know the quiet boy, countless questions had been asked but not nearly as many had been answered. to be quite frank, silence had been a regular occurrence and by now, neither one of you minded one bit.

feelings had blossomed, too, which you hadn’t been able to foresee. little did you know that a mission to bring your classmate out of his shell would result in a relationship, but you didn’t mind that one bit either. the two-toned boy had confessed his feelings before you could, blunt as ever.

being with shouto is refreshing. you don’t have to go out on a limb and try to read his mind; he is very willing to share his thoughts if the right questions are asked. sometimes, even without being prompted to do so. he brings a whole new level of excitement into your life that you had no idea you needed until you met him.

“i want to marry you.”

and, just like that, the silence was broken. his words take you by surprise. while him sharing his thoughts happen regularly, you still haven’t gotten used to just how blunt (and sometimes a little oblivious) he could be.

his words echo in your mind, every gear churning to process them. the two of you have been classmates for almost three years already, but have been together less than six months. there is no denying that you are completely and utterly in love with him, but this conversation had yet to be brought up. until now, it seems.

“not now, obviously,” he explains, his bicolored eyes studying you closely, obviously noticing your distress. he knows you better than anyone. “but sometime in the future. i cannot picture a future without you in it, y/n.”

your cheeks hurt from smiling, your heart thumping against your rib cage like a galloping horse. your boyfriend remains - seemingly, anyway - unfazed, merely continuing his staring. you can tell he doesn’t expect a response.

“i want to marry you sometime in the future, too, shouto.”

your words come with ease because you mean them with your whole being. if he isn’t in your future then you don’t want it. you had decided as much during your first conversation.

he smiles. then, he closes the barely-there gap between your faces, his lips meeting yours. he’s so gentle you can barely feel it, so you grab a handful of his shirt, pulling him even closer. he doesn’t object, his smile only widening against your lips.

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lemon-irl · 3 years

Text

Flowers

Contains : "Mikey" Manjiro Sano

Warning : Angst, main character death, mentions of blood, fem!reader, fights, hanahaki disease

Note : Longer than expected, but I still likes it.

Flowers, you always loved them. Their colors, their meanings, everything. You wished your whole life to be like them. Pure and unique. But how could you ? You always lied. For love, yes, but was it worth it in the end ?

Hanahaki disease, you've heard about it when you were younger. With all the innocence a child can have you always asked your mother : "Why some of them don't take the surgery ?"

But your question was ignored or a "you'll understand later" was thrown at you.

It's stupid you thought at that time.

How pitiful you were right now, hiding your chest with bandages. You weren't a boy, you didn't even wanted to be one. But your reflection was saying otherwise.

You met Mikey by accident, the Tokyo Manji Kai was fighting again, but this time, close to where you lived. He was mesmerizing you thought. Charismatic, strong and fierce. You were in love, "pathetic", indeed, falling in love at first sight was not what you expected that day.

"Manjiro Sano", someone in your class told you his name, you wanted to know more about him.

But, that innocent love grows into something else. White roses, "shiroibara". The first petals leaving your mouth between those painful coughs, were white roses.

Symbols of innocence and silence.

You were afraid, how did this happen ? It wasn't that deep, right ? Just a little crush. Then why were you coughing blood ? And those petals ? You weren't able to tell if they were really white anymore.

A boy ? Yes, if you wanted to be closer to Mikey you needed to be a boy. This way you could join the Manjikai. A great idea, really.

It worked ! You and Mikey were friends now. It was perfect. You talked to him for the first time, how can you be happier ? Camellia, "Tsubaki", the petals were pink this time. You always loved camellias and their scent. But this time the bloody smell filled your lungs.

Symbols of discretion and perfect love.

No needs to worry, everything was going perfectly. Mikey was your friend, it's a question of time until you make him fall for you. Then you'll tell him the truth, that you're a girl.

-" You're really strong, (Fake/Name)."

Compliment like that made the pain more bearable, even though, the petals were still here unfortunately. It's okay. It'll be okay. No need to worry. No need to worry.

"Then why is it that painful" you cried one night. In the cold streets, you couldn't bring yourself to go back home this time. Still disguised as a boy, dried blood on your face and camellias in your hands. You looked so bad right ? It was ridiculous. Why did you thought such a shitty plan would work !? Yeah, why ? Why did you fall for him ? Tears were running down on your cheeks.

-" Here, take this (Name)."

Wait, Mitsuya? He called you by your real name ! This was bad, really bad. Afraid, you looked at him, he was giving you some tissues and water.

-" The others don't know, don't worry. You need to talk to Mikey."

No, no, no, you can't do that ! What, what if he doesn't love you back ? What if he's mad at you because you lied ? So many, what if. But.... The surgery ?

-" I'm afraid Mitsuya, you don't understand, it's so painful."

He was looking at you with sadness. He wanted to help you so much, but even he didn't know if Mikey loved you back.

-" Take the surgery, you can't die."

-" I- I'm...."

Yeah, you what ? Didn't you said it was stupid ? Dying for love isn't what you always criticized ?

"You'll understand later"

You did. Oh you wish it was all a dream, that you'll wake up. No, it wasn't. The blood was there. The petals too. Painfully, you stood up and looked at Mitsuya with a sad smile.

-" I can't."

Today. Today is the day. You're about to tell Mikey about your feelings ! You told him you wanted to see him. Then why ? Why the hell are you fighting again ? On top of a roof ? Oh, yeah, right, the Manjikai had another fight.

-"I fucking hate it here."

You thrown your fists, again and again. How could you tell Mikey that you loved him if you can't even win a fight like that. You're going to win. Right ?

Purple, why is purple everywhere ? The fight ended a hour ago ! Only Mikey was still here, to hear what you wanted to say. But you were coughing purple and red. Japanese primrose, "sakurasou", a pretty purple. But you always hated purple.

Mikey was grabbing you by your arms and yelling at you. You couldn't hear him right. Your sight was getting blurry.

-"No ! You can't die, you hear me ! Listen to me okay ? It's going be okay."

-"I'm sorry, Mikey"

-"It's okay, you're not dying okay, we're going back to Toman together."

You could feel Mikey's tears on your face. Not like that, you didn't want to die like that. Please, no. Not now, not like that. What if Mikey think that it's his fault !?

-"What are you doing ? Get back here ! No !"

Your lifeless body was lying on the floor, purple petals everywhere.

Symbols of long lasting love.

-"It's not your fault Mikey. I love you."

(Name)

Hydrangea, "ajisai", pink and blue petals. Mikey was looking at your grave. He started coughing after your death, the flowers growing painfully in his body.

-" If only you told me the truth before."

Symbols of gratitude often used to say sorry.

-" I love you too"

A/N : Yeah I cried while writing this lmaooo. But anyway, it was my first angst, I hope it's good.

#mikey tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #draken #reader insert #ken ryuuguji #manjiro x reader #mikey x reader #manjiro sano #tokyo revengers x y/n #hanahaki #angst #sad sad sad

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k3lynn · 3 years

Text

mine — katsuki bakugou

yandere! katsuki bakugou x reader

cw: yandere au, 3rd year bakugou, violence, reader got female genitalia, anger, off-“screen” murder, mention of (minor) character death, blood, lucidness, possessiveness, degradation, manipulation, stalking, threats, masturbation, implication of sex, swearing, assault, narcissism, horror, slightly delusional katsuki, panic attack, non con, mention of suicide

- I do not condone any of the behavior here, nor do I try to romanticize it. (definition: make it seem like a good thing) any future/current dark fics are purely for entertainment purposes. Also, I don’t think bakugou would EVER do this- I’m just using some dark traits he used to have and twisting them to fit this situation. Not completely proof read and edited, I am exhausted right now I’m sorry. I say some mean things about some characters but I don’t mean it 💗

words: 1.8k

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚈𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Look at me.

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME.

Poor little Y/N. You’ve caught the Big Bad Wolf’s attention. Ready to snatch you up and drag you into the deepest parts of the forest where no one will ever find you.

You’ll be all mine, and I’ll be the only thing you’ll ever have to see again.

You’ve been in the same class for 3 years now- and all he had to show for it is an occasional wave, and a shy little “Hi Bakugou” every morning that made his heart leap out of his chest.

Enough for most, but not for him.

In turn, he would tsk. Facing away and setting his head down on the desk- attempting to hide the roaring blush adorning his cheeks and the subtle shuffling in his pants- the way your voice alone could make his balls tighten in need.

Still- you give him merely a glance. He is always around you, but your attention is given to someone else.

Any extra would overlook his grumbling for typical-Katsuki doing his own thing. In reality, he’s holding himself back from snapping and taking you by force.

He wants you to come to him.

You have no reason not to. He’s perfect. Probably the best student to ever enter U.A. High, and on path to become the best pro hero to ever graduate from it.

Coming first in both the Entrance Exams AND the sports festival- a victory he still denies, holding some of the highest grades in class- 3rd only to some geek girl he could easily out-rank in combat and that shitty half n’ half. Even perceptiveness, intellect, and determination that can rival dumb Deku.

He even possesses great skills in cooking and music- Katsuki is a natural-born genius. Anybody who isn’t conscious towards his incredible talents might as well be living under a rock-

Unbeknownst to you, he’s giving you the generous chance to decide when you’ll be his. But his patience wears thinner every day.

It would have only taken a second to turn around in your seat and notice his piercing red eyes glaring at the back of your head.

So why don’t you notice me.

He doesn’t understand why it’s you he obsesses about. He can’t even remember when this whole mess started.

He tried denying his feelings. But quickly- they built up and festered inside him, begging to come out. Love, possessiveness, same thing.

Whether it be watching your twist and turn in the obstacle course- then running to the nearest bathroom to furiously grip his cock.

Snatching your chapstick when you’re not looking and rubbing it all around his own lips- imagining that’s what your lips would taste like if you just kissed him-

Restraining you during combat training by wrapping his arms around you- squeezing your breast a little more than necessary. Pinning you to the floor until you admit defeat.

Or even sneaking into your dorm while you’re in the shower to grab a new pair of panties from your dirty laundry, adding it to the stash he keeps hidden under his bed.

Stalking you. Keeping you close at all times without you even knowing it.

Indeed, he knows he’s a sick and twisted human being.

But by now he hardly cares- he’s worked too hard to ever even imagine of changing his perfect target. Nobody is more deserving of you than him.

So if he has to confront, threaten, and beat every single person in this stupid school to monopolize you for himself- he gladly will. Anyone who goes againts that is challenging him.

He scoffs anytime a boy approaches you- it’s well known around school that anyone who attempts to buddy up with you mysteriously ends up in a hospital room with no recollection of what happened. People even started seeing you as a sign of bad luck.

He’s nice enough to allow you some friends though. But only ones who will guarantee you’ll be around him as much as possible.

So you sit with him, Kirishima, racoon eyes, dunce face, and tape boy in lunch. No one else. Right in front of him.

You’re chatting away with Mina, but unusually, something special came up in conversation.

He always stays focused on his lunch- switching between listening in and day dreaming about bending you over the lunch table and grinding on your ass-

Katsuki’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened- what did Mina just say?

There’s a boy in the management department, a quirkless 2nd year nobody smart enough to somehow get into U.A.

And he asked you out on a date after school.

Shit.

No.

No no no no-

No- this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

My throat burns.

When did he- when did you-

You’re going to say no, right?

I cant breathe.

You don’t like anyone- I know this

I know everything about you- I-

My chest hurts-

You’re mine.

And if he thinks I’ll share then I’ll-

“Mina stop being so loud please...” your delicate little voice whispered.

The rest of the table already took notice of what was going on- bombarding you with questions that made you flustered.

“Woah woah- Y/n, what’s your answer?” dunce face peeps out, Bakugou swore he could smack that grin off his face right then and there.

Katsuki turns to look at you again- a chill traveling down his spine once he made eye contact, but your stare quickly fell to the floor.

“I’m not sure yet- probably not.. ha.” You shrugged- a light pink dusting over your cheeks. The others, satisfied, dismiss the topic.

Had it have been anybody else observing, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. But Katsuki knows you like the back of his hand. Successfully deceiving him would be harder than taking down All For One.

You’re lying... aren’t you? In front of him too- All because of this quirkless fucking loser-

Katsuki hates lies.

I’m going to kill him.

The walk back to your dorm was disappointing to say the least. But you can’t expect someone to be in the best of moods when they’ve been stood up.

You almost couldn’t believe it either- he had seemed so kind and genuine that you stood there for an extra 2 hours. But that’s your luck with boys-

‘I hope you got a good laugh out of it, jerk.’ You huffed before inserting the key into your rooms lock.

Turning on the lights, you allow your eyes to adjust for a moment before stepping inside and walking to your desk.

“You were waiting for that jackass for so long I almost started thinking you would never come back...”

You let out a startled cry before dropping your keys and whirling around in a flash- recognizing Katsuki’s back as he slowly closes the door.

“Bakugou? Why are you-“

“was he really that special.”

“What do you mean was....“ It’s then you noticed the blood dripping down his arms and hands- your door decorated with the same shade of crimson.

“oh my god.. Bakugou,”

That’s why the poor boy never showed up.

You knew about Katsuki’s “little” crush on you for a while now. His stares weren’t exactly the most subtle after all-

You found his uncertainty adorable, heck, a part of you was waiting for him to confess. But you would have never imagined his infatuation went this far.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll never love you as much as I do.”

He lifts his head, and your eyes meet his. Bloodshot- as if he’d been crying, but the evident smirk on his face showed nothing but pure malice.

“Not that he’ll ever get the chance to anyways”

He’s too fast, too close to the door, he has all the advantage in this situation. But you have to try. You have to leave this room at this very moment or you may never make it out alive. There’s no reasoning with him.

You clutch your heart. He steps forward, and you instinctively bolt to the door.

A few easy moves and he has you pinned by the neck on the ground, legs bent and used to hold your arms from jerking too much. His free hand is outstretched, creating small explosions that made you automatically stiffen your movement.

“Bakugou please- I won’t ever tell anyone, we can forget about this and I’ll pretend it neve-“

“I don’t need you to be quiet. I’m the boy who rejected a direct offer from the League of Villains, one of the best students in U.A. high- even if you do rat me out, they’ll never believe you...”

His grip on your neck tightened- nails cutting through skin and little droplets of blood start showing up. His hand starts heating up and a panic courses through your veins.

“I’ll kill you before they even begin to suspect me.”

Choked sobs escape your lips from the pain and fear surging through your body- “I- I thought you said you lo-loved me.”

“I do... that’s why you’ll be mine forever.”

He leaned down, low enough for you to feel his warm breath- then used his tongue to sadistically lick off the tears running down your cheek, a salty but satisfying flavor entering his mouth.

“In this life, and the next. It’s up to you when we see the later.”

You nod, hoping he relaxes the pressure on your neck. His face softens, something you swore you would never see in Bakugou. He releases his hold.

“You made me mess up your neck, next time don’t be so mean.”

He tilted your chin up, observing the scratches and bruises littered all around it. As soon as he determines there’s no serious injury, he picks you up to lay you on your bed. Climbing in next to you and wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Couples cuddle like this all the time don’t they.”

You gave him silence, although he didn’t mind. With one glare he had you shuffling to move closer to his chest.

“they also kiss.”

You know that right now, there’s no point in fighting. So you give in to what he wants in hopes that one day, you’ll break free from the hold he secretly had on you for so long. You’ll play along. You’ll survive.

You shudder as his hands reach to cradle your cheek, wiping the blood of the boy all over it. He loved it. It proved he won. He gave a light kiss to your lips before attacking your neck, set on putting a new type of bruise on you.

“You should start calling me Katsuki.”

“Ka- Katsuki.” You barely managed to whimper out.

He caresses your hair, cooing soft whispers into your ear in an attempt to calm your sniffling. An action you would have seen as sweet if it weren’t for the constant threat of death over your shoulder.

Your breath hitches in horror as you feel his warm hands trail down your body, gripping your smooth inner thigh before delicately starting to drag his fingers up.

“You know...

You silently beg for him to stop.

“There’s one more thing couples do.”

-if anyone is interested- should I make a part 2? (Future edit, I’m not satisfied with this, I might end up rewriting in the future)

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nillabeam · 4 years

Text

thirst texts at 2 am

synopsis: ah the queen of the drunk text. that’s you. but what happens when the person on the receiving end of your drunken sexting is none other than bakugo katsuki himself??

pairings: bakugoxf!reader

warnings: 18+ for sure, alcohol mention, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lANGUAGE bc bakugo is in it so that a given 100%, reader being a little brat, slight age gap but both characters are aged up

a/n: hi it’s me again bringing you another thirst post but Bakugo’s a little tiny bit of a sub in this one and i’m probably making a part two which will probably be pure sin but we’ll see! thanks for reading as usual please ignore all my shitty grammar and spelling mistakes <333

You were more than lucky to score an internship straight out of UA, and even luckier to be scouted by Endeavor’s agency. And luckier still, to be able to work with Bakugo Katsuki, Ground Zero himself, the boy you had a school girl crush on since the day you watched him in the sports festival on TV. Feral and an obvious asshole, needless to say for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you were smitten. You even managed to get into UA, granted he had graduated the year before you actually attended UA, still it was hallowed ground to you since so many great heroes were a product of the prestigious high school. What started as a shallow reason for attending became the best decision of your life. You left UA a strong pro hero to be, and your quirk made you a perfect addition to the fiery ranks of your new agency.

You fit in quite nicely, most of your co-workers took a liking to you immediately. Except, of course, Bakugo, who always seemed to keep his distance from everyone. The loner rockstar of the agency, honestly it was very on brand for him. You could count on one hand how many times you’d interacted, and you only needed half the amount of fingers to count how many times you’d actually spoken to one another. Lucky for you your school girl crush had wavered a bit since graduation. After all, you were a full fledged hero now. That didn’t mean you steal a few peeks of the hero here and there on the rare occasion he would show up at the office. Honestly, you forgot he even worked there most of the time. Since you were a rookie and he was an established hero you two rarely crossed paths. You doubted he even knew who you were.

It had been a little over six months since you started at the agency so you were eager to oblige when some of your old classmates extended an invitation to get some drinks and go dancing. The night was great, but like usual you went a little overboard at the bar, but you figured you’d let loose for once. Besides, you had the next day off from work.

It was a little past 2 am when you fumbled out of your Uber, into your apartment, giggling to yourself as you kicked your heels off by the door. Clumsily, drunkenly, you drop the small purse you were carrying, effectively spilling everything out of it. “S-Shit--” you mumble and begin to shove the contents back into the bag. Your hands linger on your phone which is vibrating with texts from your friends asking if you made it home okay. You tap out a few replies to assure your friends you were safe just kinda drunk before you lazily stroll through your messages. Your eyes widen slightly as they rest on a name at the bottom of the list.

Bakugo Katsuki.

A single message he sent when you were lucky enough to work on one of his missions a few months back buried beneath all the other messages. You forgot you had saved it.

You shouldn't.

You wouldn't.

Fuck it.

Quickly you type out a text, deleting and retyping until you’re completely satisfied with it before you hit send.

A dull buzz against his nightstand stirs the blonde from his light slumber, his large hand smacking around in the dark before it finally lands on his phone. His eyes are heavy with sleep and it takes a second to read the screen properly. It’s from an unsaved number. He tosses the phone away with disinterest, rationalizing it as a wrong number. He starts to drift back to sleep when the phone buzzes again. “Fuck’s sake-” He opens the message to drill in a angry reply when his breath hitches in his throat.

hi! remember me??, the first message reads.

The second an expertly taken photo of you clad in matching lace bra and thong, posed in such a way that he could admire all of you.

how about now? The third message makes him throw his phone away from his face.

He definitely remembered you. You were a sidekick, he saw you around sometimes, that tight little body clad in your hero costume. Or sauntering around the office in that fucking pencil skirt/thigh high combo. He tried to remember your name but his mind came up blank.

His phone buzzed again and he rubbed his face with both hands before grabbing it and opening the message. Another goddamn picture. This time you were on your back, on your bed he assumed, because your hair was slightly messy, forming a halo around you. One hand holding the phone, the other at your lips a finger pressed against your perfect pink tongue lolled out of your mouth. Your eyes were glassy and half lidded. He let out groan at the sight of you.

does this help?

He could feel his prominent bulge straining against his sweatpants. His hand dipped beneath the waistband, his first instinct was to palm at his growing length. He chewed his bottom lip, going back to the first picture to inspect your assets more thoroughly this time. He groaned, his strokes long and languid. He closed his eyes, his mind about to wander when he was suddenly hit with a pang of guilt. Tearing his hand from his pants he tossed his phone away. No, no, no, no- he wasn't this fucking desperate. He was not going to get off on some lewd pictures of his coworker just because she was clearly thirsting over him. The thought made his cock twitch in disrespectful betrayal.

His phone began to buzz again. This time it didn't stop, it was rhythmic and slightly lower. Shit. A call. He stared intensely at the number on the screen. His ego got the best of him. He answered it, against his better judgement, promising himself to put this extra in her place. There was a long pause and he nearly hung up.

“Bakugo?” The sweet voice finally rang out of the speaker and his confidence faltered. “You know it’s rude to leave people on read.” There was an obvious teasing tone to your voice, which he swore had a slight slur to it.

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing you shitty extra but stop texting me that shit.” He growled into the phone.

“You didn’t like it-”

“I don’t even know your fucking name, asshole.”

“That’s okay, you’ll learn it soon enough.”

“I’m going to tell you one more goddamn time if you keep sending me that shit i’m going to-” A soft moan completely derailed his train of thought. Fuuuck. Another slightly louder groan followed. “W-What the fuck are you doing?” He barks into the phone, face flush with embarrassment.

“Don’t stop, aren’t you going to tell me what you’re going to do to me?” You mewl breathlessly, your fingers dancing along your wet folds as you imagined all the things he could do to ruin you.

He licked his lips, wetting them, he had to grip his bedsheets to keep his free hand from wandering back beneath his sweats. “Are you touching yourself right now?” He tried to sound disgusted, but it ended up sounding a little more desperate than he intended.

“I wish it was you touching me instead, Katsuki.” You ask, your tone breathless and dripping with lust. The way his name sounded coming out of your mouth had his eyes rolling back. He wondered how you knew it in the first place.

(Honestly, you saw it while you were helping Burnin’ with some paperwork one night at the office but that wasn’t really the point right now.)

He covered his mouth to stifle a groan that dared escape his lips. The way he saw it he had two options: let you continue and shove his hands down his pants the way he so, so desperately wanted to OR hang up the fucking phone.

“Mmm-! K-Katsuki-” He snapped out of his daze and scrambled to hang up the phone. He tossed it away and thew himself back onto the mattress shoving his hands into his messy blonde hair. “F-Fuck.” He mumbled, groaning at the thought of you getting off to only the sound of his voice.

It wasn’t fair. For you to look the way you did and sound the way you did. He figured you were drunk. The slight slur in your breathy voice, the dazed expression you wore in those sinful selfies you sent him, all idicating as such. That had to be it. There was no other rational explanation. He did the right thing, ending the call.

He wasn’t so pathetically desperate that he had to get off to some drunken extra throwing herself at him.

He was Bakugo Fucking Katsuki.

Ground Zero. Soon to be #1 he—

His phone buzzed again, louder now that it was pressing up against the headboard. Bakugo reluctantly checked the caller id. A fucking video call. No, no. He couldn’t. It would be too much. He was a man after all. With carnal, primal desire welling within him, and right now he was barely keeping those desires at bay. He ignored the call.

Another buzz.

He was fucking stupid.

“FUCK.”

His fingers greedily swiped to answer the call. He was immediately greeted by your beautiful face, you offered a sweet smile and wave. “That wasn't nice, Katsuki, hanging up like that when I was so close.” You were lying on your stomach, feet swaying back and forth in the air behind the curve of your ass. He drank in the sight of you, your face flushed, messy hair framing your face perfectly, your lips plush and slightly pouting.

He cursed himself internally. “So fucking desperate.” His voice was huskier than before, and his words were more akin to a growl.

“Only a little.”

You sat up and rested the phone on something so you no longer had to hold it but ensuring Bakugo still had a great view. You stared at him through the screen and he felt his cheeks heat up, even though you weren’t in the room with him he still felt a little intimidated by your boldness.

You dipped a finger to rub over your clothed entrance, “Now where was I?” You teased, your other hand trailing over your cleavage. Bakugo fumbled with his sweats, sliding his hand down them to palm his aching cock. His ruby orbs memorizing every movement you made. You stop suddenly and he stopped too, a little annoyed. “Something wrong?” He growls, his tone low and thick with want.

“I’m gonna need you to do something for me first.” You say your fingers hooking into the strappy waistband of your thong pulling it away from your full hips teasingly before releasing it, the material hitting your skin with a slight ‘snap’. He ponders it for a moment, but his desire gets the best of him.

“For fucks sake-”He rolls his eyes, “What now?” He asks, clearly skeptical.

“Turn a light on or something, this isn’t a free show-” There's yet another long pause and Bakugo weighs his options. You start to get a bit impatient when a sudden ‘click’ catches your attention. Finally. There he is in all his glory. Well, not all his glory but some of it. It’s still a little dark but those piercing red eyes of him are unmistakable. His gaze makes you flush two shades darker. His appearance is slightly disheveled, his hair is messier than normal, probably bedhead since you most likely woke him up, his cheeks are tinted pink and he looks a little fucked out already. Probably from all the teasing. He looks absolutely perfect.

“Fucking happy now, brat?” He growls.

“Yes! Much better.” You comment, feeling your heat drip from the mere image of him. “I guess I can reward your good behavior..” You trail off, reaching back to unhook your bra, you catch it before it can fall, teasingly biting your lip. You can hear him groan at your teasing, finally you let the lace fall away from your body, giving him a full view. The liquor in your system keeping the shame and embarrassment you would normally be feeling at bay.

“Fucking perfect.” Bakugo groans lowly at the sight. You’re caught off guard by the compliment and you feel your body heat up. He slides his sweats down enough to free his cock from its confines, he makes sure you can’t see him first, only visible from the chest up. He swipes his thumb over the tip spreading the pre cum along the length of his cock before starting slow, languid pumps.

You notice his eyes roll back slightly at the sensation and you almost threaten to stop again if he doesn't show you what he’s doing, but you’re afraid he’ll stop entertaining this foolish idea entirely so you fight the urge to call him out.

Instead you trail your hands along the top of your thighs, “Tell me what you want, Katsuki.” His breath hitches at your words, he smirks darkly before biting his bottom lip.

“Touch yourself.”

You feel a wave of lust wash over you and you pull your panties off eager to please. You spread your legs exposing your soaking folds, you rub a hand lazily along your slit. “Fuck-” You hear him groan at the sight of you.

“Such a dirty little, slut.” A bolt of electricity shoots through you at his words and you can't stop your fingers from dipping into your mess of a cunt.

“So fucking desperate for my attention.”

You are moving your fingers feverishly now, chasing the release you were denied earlier, his words pushing you closer to that blissful edge. Soft moans fall from your lips, your free hand moves to rub clumsy circles against your clit.

He’s keeping pace with you, his strokes matching your movements. “Fuck, Princess, you’re so beautiful like this.” He can’t help the moan that follows his praise. “K-Katsuki, i’m close-” You whimper, eyes watering from the building pleasure in your core. “Did I say you could cum?” He asks his breathing ragged as his own climax sneaks up on him, his strokes become more desperate.

“P-Please, I can’t help it-” You whimper, you can feel your orgasm about to crash down on you.

He can knows how close you are. He can see it.

“Beg for it.”

“K-Katsuki! Please let me—ahh!—cum! Please, K-Katsuki, p-please I really can’t—mnn help it.” You whine, trying your best to be good and hold back for him.

“Cum for me then, Princess.”

You manage a hurried nod and your ministrations become hurried and sloppy. Bakugo’s not doing much better as his shirt is now in between his teeth, the camera tilted slightly giving you a view of his perfect chest. His muffled groans push you closer and closer to your release, as he thrusts up into his hand imagining its you instead. Finally, it all becomes too much and the coil inside snaps, you whine, tossing your head back, “Fuck. Katsuki!” Your fingers move from your core to your clit, wanting to prolong the orgasm as long as possible.

Bakugo bites down even harder on the material between his teeth, desperate to stifle the whimpers falling from him, his face contorts and his eyes nearly roll all the way back. Thick, white ropes of cum make a mess of his exposed stomach. He lets the fabric of his shirt fall from his mouth, his jaw sore from how hard he was biting down. His body relaxes a bit too much as he comes down from his high and he accidentally drops the phone.

“Shit-” You refocus on your own screen, forgetting it was there for a second, you hear him cursing under his breath and fumbling around until you are graced by the view of his flushed, fucked out expression. You offer a sweet smile and he smirks a little in response. “That was great, but i’m a little disappointed it wasn't the real thing.” You admit, forcing a slight pout. You see him visibly stiffen, his pupils dilating at the thought.

“You couldn't handle the real thing, Princess.” He taunts.

“Prove it.”

Fuck now you’ve done it.

“Come over tomorrow.”

“Don’t play games with me, Princess, I don’t like to be teased.”

“I’m serious.” You disappear from the screen for a moment while you type out a text. His phone buzzes in his hand. “That’s my address. Tomorrow around 8 work for you?” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. Fucking bet.

“You’ll regret that. ” He offers a deliciously devilish smirk.

“We’ll see.” You tease back.

“I’m going to bed, it’s fucking—” He moves to look at the time, “-three in the morning—shit.”

“You’re right big day tomorrow! Goodnight, sleepy head!” You muse rolling onto your back. You move to end the call when his voice stops you.

“Wait-”

A pause.

“Tell me your name first.”

#bnha #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #nillabeamwrites #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines

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thisnoodlewritesao3 · 3 years

Text

Please Don't Say Goodbye | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: light swearing, crying, implied panic attacks, arguments, yelling, ummm lemme know if I missed anything

Word Count: 2181

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble- okay, in my defence, I've had such writers block and apparently the feels were necessary soooo. This is 1 of 2 fic ideas that were sent to me by @satan-ruler-of-hells for a prompt thing I did (idk if I can find the thing) and the next one is Tendou. So, maybe get ready for more feels of my almost 5 am angst. I also did not proof-read this, sooooo

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How had things ended up like this?

Every little thing was like the calm before the storm - the most tense calm that had ever existed; you were walking on eggshells, and maybe so was he, but you couldn’t help it. At least, you thought you couldn’t. Each attempt to try and fix the mess around you only ended up in more heartbreak.

The storm that always seemed to be headed in your direction had tore apart the home you’d meticulously built together. Plates and picture frames shattered to the ground; glass leaving you walking on bleeding feet. The flowers of your love torn apart somewhere in the distance now. Breath stolen from your lungs, but not from those kisses he’d give you back in high school, not from the way he’d dance with you around his bedroom (only to shove you onto the bed when his brother barged in), not from your outrageous laughter at something stupid that had happened. This was a breath stolen from countless nights arguing, screaming, trying to gain the upper hand in a situation where you were both at a standstill. A breath stolen from your heaving words as you scrunch your hands into your roots, pull your legs close to your chest and shove yourself into a corner while he slammed the door and left to God knows where. Breath stolen from the realization that maybe things just weren’t working like they used to, and that it was okay to love him, but to not be in love with him.

Tonight was just another picture perfect example of why you weren’t meant to be together. You’d come home late from work (because of some stupid assignment that you just wanted to finish today). He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. Honestly, you just wanted to eat something, so you didn’t bother greeting him, but the moment he noticed your presence in the house, he was hot on your tail.

“Where were you?” His voice sharp as daggers, digging under your skin and tearing you apart piece by piece. His arms are crossed over his chest, eyes so judgmental you feel like you’re in court. Nothing you say is the right answer, so you choose to not say anything. Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer either - this you find out when his iron grip settles on your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Hey-” you winced, trying to pry his fingers off.

“Where were you?” He repeated, basically growling at you through his gritted teeth.

“I was at work.” You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back towards the fridge, trying to ease the beating of your heart. In, hold, out. You repeat to yourself, barely remembering what all those instagram therapists had told you.

He scoffed, finally releasing his grip in favor of slamming the fridge door shut, “really? Because the last time I checked, your work ended two hours ago. What could you possibly have been doing for two whole hours?” He was in your face now, making you know how pissed he was.

But you already knew. You’d always known. Why did he need to try and make it so blindingly obvious to you?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kei, I was working. What part of that is so hard to understand?” You snapped back, moving away from him with a heavy sigh. At this point, you didn’t bother holding back the venom in your words. You knew he had issues (and you knew why) but did that mean he should take it out on you? No. Fuck.

“Two hours! Y/N, I was waiting two hours. I was going to take us to dinner, we were going to have a nice time.” He followed after you, closing every cupboard door you opened, trying to get your attention. “But you didn’t even send me a text. Were you too busy fuck-”

“Oh my God!” You yelled over him, spinning around to face him with your pure unfiltered aggression.

Back and forth you went for what felt like hours. Tears were acid down your cheeks, your spit a very special concoction of venom just for him. And yet, even as you were dry heaving in the kitchen sink, yelling more obscenities at him, you could never seem to stop. Neither could he.

Tsukishima Kei was known for a lot of things, being an asshole was one of them. That you knew too well.

For a while, though, things were good. He loved you. You loved him.

As he sits there, accusing you over and over of cheating on him, even though you hadn’t and you wouldn’t. God.

When had he become so anxious and persistent that things were going wrong? Yes, they were going wrong, but not for the reasons he keeps saying. It’s driving you insane, to the point where you can’t even remember those stupid breathing techniques, or grounding techniques, or anything.

This argument had lost the plot at some point around when he started yelling at you for doing the dishes wrong (you still insisted there wasn’t a wrong way to do them). So you bit back that his clothes were stupid, or that dinosaurs were stupid, something. Something was stupid.

“If you have so many problems with the way I choose to live my life, then get the fuck out.” You screamed, slamming your fists down onto the table and pointing to the door. His expression was scrunched up into something completely unrecognizable - a fine mixture of hatred and anguish. His chest rising and falling so rapidly you’re amazing he’s still standing. His hair is a complete and utter mess, so many times he’d ran his hand through it to try and make sense of the nonsense you were both spouting.

“Fine, I will!” He yelled back, voice hoarse from the past two hours.

You watched him head towards the door without a second thought, grabbing his coat, shoving his shoes on. You didn’t have the energy to call out after him, no matter how much your heart begged you to.

And your heart did beg you to; but it had already accepted that the end had been coming for too long.

You lean back against one of the cupboards, looking up at that one crack in the ceiling that he’d insisted he’d get around to fixing but something had always come up.

If you had to say what was wrong in your relationship, it would just be something. Something was wrong, and neither of you knew what it was, but something would be your downfall. Something filled the air with poison and made you destined to hate each other; something danced around in your words and twisted the meaning; something caressed your cheek as tears fell.

Something was your downfall and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

So, maybe you’d call in sick the next day, and your boss would believe you because your voice sounded like hell; and maybe you’d spend the entire day lying in bed despite the fact your stomach was beginning for some nutrients; and maybe it would feel good to not have that nagging voice that you shouldn’t sleep in all day.

But today would have felt nicer with him by your side.

If there was one thing Tsukishima Kei was good at (after a lot of practice), it was making you feel just a little bit better with his empty promises and sweet nothings.

So, maybe you’d dressed yourself in his shirt and breath in him; and maybe you’d grab that dinosaur plushie you’d bought him for his birthday so many years ago and pull it to your chest; maybe you’d sleep on his side of the bed even though his pillow wasn’t as fluffy as yours; and maybe, just maybe, you watched his favourite movie on repeat, hoping it would bring him back to you.

Those were all maybe’s. But maybe they did happen, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and tease him for his glasses that he insisted were cool. Or to have him laugh at you for the fact you majored in literature, despite the fact you weren’t good with words.

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate in picking it up, almost too excited for his voice, “Kei-”

“Y/N…” Yamaguchi’s voice was soft, understanding. It killed your fire of excitement in an instant.

You listened to him talk, something about how Tsukishima had decided you needed a break and would be staying at his place for a little while. Something about how he still loved you, but he didn’t want to keep hurting you like this.

It wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t manage to keep it together and broke out crying all over again, basically screaming and begging for things to be okay. There was no doubt in your mind, if Tsukishima was in the room with Yamaguchi, then he’d heard your cries.

“I’ll be better…” you whimpered, after far too long, “I’ll be nice. A-and… I won’t make fun of his glasses. Or dinosaurs. Please… please, Yamaguchi, please tell him to come home!” You cried out, unsure if you even managed to breathe.

He was silent on the line. You couldn’t take it. The silence, you wanted the noise. You’d prefer the arguing over this.

“I’m sorry…” Yamaguchi said weakly, and you knew how much it was hurting him to say this.

He hung up the phone and you were left as a shell of yourself.

And yet, your life must go on. So, for two months, you pushed your problems to the side and kept dredging forward in the hope that the answer to your problems was in one of these articles. Hoping that your co-worker would tell you some shitty anecdote that would distract you for just a little while.

Yo couldn’t look at your apartment anymore, not as little pieces of him were still littered everywhere.

Only, one day, you came home and he wasn’t anywhere. You didn’t notice it, not at first, but then you saw his mug from your museum visit in his third year of high school wasn’t next to your matching one. And then neither were his books on the shelf in your living room, or under the coffee table. His clothes gone from the closet. Every inch. Every detail. Every bit of him you had left had disappeared in the span of one work day.

And you were left with nothing.

With as much energy as you could muster, you turned and ran in the general direction of Yamaguchi’s house (which was hopeless, considering you had the directional capability of a broken compass and the stamina of a dead horse). You really were hopeless as you dialed his number, ignoring the way the moon taunted you in the sky.

He answered, for whatever reason, and you let out a breath. “What is it?” His tone was even, but something told you he was barely holding it together.

“Is this it?” Was all you could say. Head dizzy as you looked for Yamaguchi’s house - which you just knew was somewhere around here.

“It’s been it for a long time.” He really sounded robotic, like he was reading from a script.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice broke as you ran, ignoring the splintering pain in the balls of your feet, “you thought making Yamaguchi say you needed a break, and then disappearing for two months, and then only reappearing to take your things back was the answer?” You cried out.

“You know-” his voice cracked and he stopped speaking. God, it hurt you so much.

“I never wanted this.” Tears were pouring down your cheeks.

“You think I did?”

“No-”

“I tried, Y/N, I tried so hard. But you would never listen to me!”

“I tried too, Kei!” You tried not to yell, and you hoped that it worked.

Some miracle brought you to Yamaguchi’s door, the one you only recognized because of the little frog statue on the windowsill. You pressed the doorbell, hoping for the best.

“I tried because I loved you. And I waited for you, I waited and hoped you’d come back. I-” you ran your hands through your hair once again. “I know we aren’t the best, that something is always wrong, but we can work on this. We can… fuck, I don’t know. You were the smart one…” he let out a low chuckle laced with pain. “But we can work something out, can’t we?”

There was a pause, and Yamaguchi opened the door, shocked to see you. Your breath hitched but neither of you spoke.

“I… I can’t do this anymore…” he admitted, and you felt your heart shatter. “Y/N, this is it…”

You could see Tsukishima pacing in the living room just down the hall, and you know Yamaguchi knows you’ve seen him. His phone pulled away from his face, finger shaking over that familiar red button.

“Please don’t say goodbye…” you called out.

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#thisnoodlewrites #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #hq tsukishima #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu angst #tw: implied panic attacks #reader #break up angst?

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cursed-or-not · 4 years

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I couldn’t get one of the vignettes to work, so naturally this sat in my drafts for way too long, but this is based on a post by @thiscastielhasflown about Cas blushing around Dean :)))

Cas doesn’t think he’s ever felt so human and so holy at the same time.

He is not who he thought he was, and neither is Dean Winchester.

When Cas accepted his orders, when he agreed to go to Hell, it was under the pretense of rescuing a righteous man. Cas expected a soul so pure it hurts to look at it straight-on, one so bright it burns.

What he did not expect were the ragged shards in front of him, thrumming like a heartbeat.

It’s not the concept of a soul, not the made-to-order design, but instead the lived-in, broken essence of a human.

It is still bright, but just enough that Cas can’t look away.

Here is a human soul: righteous and recalcitrant and real.

Cas doesn’t know how he’s supposed to move on. This is an order unlike any other, a mission he’s not sure he can complete; he doesn’t know how he can pull this soul from the fire with the clinical precision that’s expected of him. He isn’t sure he can leave the scene without leaving fingerprints, a sprawling scar that proves his guilt.

Yes, this is ordered, but it’s also intimate.

Cas knows what souls look like in theory, but this is messy and charred, and there is light shining through the tatters.

Cas is captivated by the man behind it.

Here, Cas can see the toll a lifetime takes on a human; he can see this soul’s--Dean’s-- greatest joys and miseries, can feel his pain and pleasure and imperfection.

It’s achingly, hauntingly personal, and Cas’ face burns at the intimacy of it all.

Cas doesn’t know what this feeling is, but he thinks it’s distinctly human.

Cas is already marked.

. . .

It happens more and more often now that he’s human.

Cas’s cheeks burn every time a customer yells at him at the Gas n Sip, every time Nora looks at him a little too long, every time he makes a new mistake at being human.

It never feels the same as when it’s Dean making him blush, but Cas has started to forget what that feels like.

When Dean visits, he can’t fathom how he ever couldn’t remember.

They’re in Dean’s motel room together, and Cas is trying with everything in him not to break down.

This man, this kind, beautiful, caring man is the same one who sent Cas away.

He doesn’t know how to reconcile that, and Cas feels ready to burst with everything he’s not saying.

Part of him wants to ask. Part of him wants to make Dean tell him why Cas had to leave, why he wasn’t good enough anymore, and part of him wants to tell Dean that look, this is what’s become of me since then; I don’t have a bed or a home or a family, and I don’t know what I did wrong, but I know you sent me away.

Another part of him wants to cup Dean’s jaw in his hands and kiss him until everything feels okay.

“You know, Cas, it’s real good to see you,” Dean says, and Cas almost yells at the sincerity.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair because Cas wants to hear it and Dean means it and they’re still so far apart.

“You too, Dean,” Cas tells him, because this part of him always wins out.

Dean offers a small smile, but something in his face is crumpled and wavering beneath it.

Dean lets out a quick exhale, and Cas can’t read his expression.

“Cas…” Dean begins, and Cas doesn’t want to hear it anymore.

“It’s okay,” Cas says quickly, and he can’t tell if he means it or not.

Dean closes his eyes.

“It’s not,” he shakes his head bitterly. “I’ll explain it to you, one day, but for now it’s shitty and selfish and not okay.”

Cas doesn’t know what to say. He’s still hurt and angry, but this is Dean, and today is one of the days Cas wishes that he had powers that could heal more than just physical wounds. He wishes he could lay a hand on Dean and make him better, make him smile, but even when he was an angel, the best he could do was heal battle wounds before they bled out. Today, he doesn’t even have powers.

“I believe that you had a good reason,” Cas says honestly.

He doesn’t know what else he believes, but that much has to be true.

“It doesn’t matter if I did,” Dean tells him, but he doesn’t look quite as exhausted as he did before. “I’m sorry.”

Cas smiles gratefully.

“Thank you for coming,” Cas says. “And for letting me stay with you.”

“Well, mi casa es tu casa,” Dean jokes, gesturing around the motel room. “Weird stains and all.”

Cas almost slips up, then. He almost says that a cheap motel room with Dean is better than a sleeping bag in a lonely store, but he catches himself.

“I don’t mind,” Cas says instead. “I’m grateful.” Dean huffs a laugh.

“Come on, man, it’s not like I’m doing a huge favor. It’s a shitty motel room.” Dean grins. “Not even the honeymoon suite.”

For some reason, the idea of sharing a honeymoon suite sets Cas’s cheeks ablaze.

Dean doesn’t notice under the dingy motel lighting.

Later, when Dean wakes up to Cas watching him for the first time in years, Cas doesn’t notice the blush coloring Dean’s cheeks, either.

. . .

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air like the Sword of Damocles, but Cas thinks that the only one threatened is himself.

Dean won’t say it back, Cas knows.

He isn’t sure what he expected, but Dean won’t look him in the eyes and Cas needs to say something else before this stretches on any longer and his cheeks are burning again.

Cas wishes he could write off the blush as an effect of the poison, but he thinks that whatever this is won’t break as easily as a fever.

Cas looks away.

“I love all of you.”

He leaves it at that.

. . .

Cas has been back for three days when the house of cards finally crashes.

It’s been delicate, since he got back.

He understands; you can’t just drop a love confession on someone and expect it not to get awkward. Cas may not understand everything about being human, but this, he does.

At first the lack of confrontation surprised him. Looking back, though, Cas thinks that it’s the most in character reaction possible.

Cas had come back, Dean had pulled him into a fierce hug, and then they’ve been carefully avoiding any alone time since.

Cas thinks this might be the kindest reaction, might just be Dean trying not to break his best friend’s heart, but the silence is worse.

Cas has accepted his role in all of this, and he knows not to expect more than he can have. Still, if nothing else he wants his best friend back.

Cas has never really been one to take the first step, but considering the leap of faith he took before the Empty came, he figures he can manage a conversation.

He waits until Dean’s the only one left in the kitchen.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says carefully, and Dean doesn’t look as trapped as he expected. Mostly, he just looks tired.

“I think…” Cas struggles to find a way to begin. “We should talk.”

Dean nods around his beer, taking care not to look at Cas.

Cas stays on the other side of the counter.

“I know that we’re acting like nothing has changed,” Cas begins, “And if that’s what you want, then I understand. But if you have any… concerns, then--”

“Really, Cas? Concerns?”

Cas blinks. “Maybe that’s not exactly the right word, but--”

“Cas, that’s not even the right sentiment,” Dean responds, finally looking at him.

“Then what are you looking for?” Cas asks, and he hates that even now, he doesn’t know.

“What am I looking for?”

If Dean objected to “concerns,” his offense is even greater now. Cas’s brow furrows.

Dean continues, “Cas, you told me you love me!”

Cas almost flinches.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I did.”

Cas can’t meet Dean’s eyes, but he’s not sure he wants to know what they’re saying, anyway.

“There’s-- kind of a lot to unpack there, man,” Dean says, and his voice is marginally calmer.

Cas looks up.

“I’m sorry.”

Cas knows immediately that wasn’t what Dean was looking for, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what he is.

“You’re sorry, huh?” Dean’s voice is low, and Cas thinks there might be something ragged in it.

Cas blinks. “Yes.”

Dean huffs a bitter laugh.

“Okay, then. Think we’re done talking.”

“What-- Dean,” Cas protests, utterly confused as to how this went so wrong.

Cas steels himself to continue. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable, but Dean, I don’t want-- I can’t lose you.”

Something in Dean’s expression softens, but his shoulders stay tensed.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he offers. “Listen, I get it. You said something on impulse and I misinterpreted it and now you’re sorry, apparently. Yeah, it sucks, but you’re not gonna lose me.”

Cas feels confusion etch onto his face.

“You think that my apology means I regret it?”

Dean looks at him like it’s obvious.

“I mean, it’s understandable,” Dean replies, gesturing widely.

Cas can’t believe how wrong this conversation is going.

“Dean, of course I don’t regret it,” Cas admits, still at a loss for how Dean could have reached that conclusion. “When someone confesses something in their dying moments that they’ve been carrying with them for more than a decade, they’re not generally lying.”

Dean looks at him half in doubt and half in wonder.

“I never said you were lying,” Dean grumbles in protest. Cas thinks the sullenness is more for show than anything else.

He has moved to Cas’s side of the counter.

“Well, I wasn’t,” Cas responds, and he knows it’s not witty or clever or important, but maybe if he keeps reaffirming it, Dean will start to believe it.

“I’m glad,” Dean says, and he puzzles Cas by offering him his beer. Now, they’re shoulder to shoulder.

Cas isn’t sure why, but he takes the beer. Dean’s eyes track the motion as he raises it to his lips, and Cas’s cheeks burn when Dean watches him swallow.

This time, Dean notices.

“You blushing?” Dean asks through a cocky grin, and damn it that just made it worse.

“No,” Cas grumbles.

“Now you’re lying through your teeth,” Dean accuses, taking his beer back and taking a sip.

“Well, I wasn’t lying about the other thing,” Cas responds, trying to regain his composure.

Dean’s joking disposition crumbles, and he glances at Cas’s face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dean nods, looking like he’s milling something over.

He seems to decide to take another sip of beer instead, but as he raises it to his lips, he says, “I love you, too, you know.”

Of all the responses Cas was expecting, this never made the list.

His face is hot again, though, and his heartrate is a little too sporadic, and if Dean keeps drinking beer like it’s a normal friday night, Cas is going to go insane.

His brain finally catches up to the situation.

“You what?” Cas asks incredulously.

Dean’s casual dimeanor finally falls away, and this time it’s his turn to blush as he looks at Cas over his beer.

“Love you,” Dean mutters, and it’s barely audible, but it’s more than enough.

Cas gives himself five more seconds of shocked staring before he huffs a laugh.

“I never thought…” Cas doesn’t know where it’s going, just knows that he’s never felt awe like this before.

“Yeah, me either,” Dean admits. “But it’s true.”

Dean sets his bottle on the counter, and Cas watches the movement, heart still beating a little too fast.

There’s still too much to say and also nothing. When Cas turns to face Dean, Dean takes his face in his hands.

Cas looks at him in wonder, eyes tracing the freckles and smile lines on his face.

Dean bites his lip quickly, still considering something, and then Cas doesn’t know who leans in first, but they’re kissing.

It’s honey-sweet and molasses-slow, and Cas thinks that this has to be why freedom exists.

#idk definitively what this is #bc it's part 15x18 coda #and part destiel through the years #but it was nice to write something #spn fanfic #destiel #15x18 coda #first kiss #spn spoilers #mine

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batty4dragon · 3 years

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Can I just say the fact that it exists and what's in it, it's message and that it was approved made me throw up in my mouth? How can they poison some thing so pure and innocent and wholesome and important ? How can they make someone good, someone who is a good friend and supporter who friercely protects and loves his rider and family, not care about them and toss them aside and do it in most douche kind of way?

"am I not enough ? Hiccup asked Toothless. Toothless paused then dashed away."

Literally what kind of friend does that? Not even trying to confront your best friend as apparently that book still calls them that but it only just adds one more pinch of salt to injury, what kind of friend sees his friend upset and doesn't care? A shitty one, asshole, someone who only cares about food in your fridge and if you have money to take that's who and it disgusts me. Relationships don't work that way. Feelings and love and protectiveness towards your family don't dissapear just because a pretty girl you just meet appeared. Hiccup struggled and tried to be enough, but didn't manage it since he was little and in httyd 1 finally he was someone enough for Toothless and it let Hiccup unravel and develop. Their relationship was amazing and heartwarming and pure they could count on each other no matter the trouble and to see it all just tossed like yesterday's trash for the sake of this nightmare? Made me feel cold, absolutely horrified and angry and pretty duckin depressed. What's the point of making friends and relationships when even one as beautiful as this can stab you in the back and your very best friend abandoned you for a pretty girl he barely knows and doesn't care about you anymore. Because that's the only thing I'm getting from thw. Sometimes friends drift apart that's true but they still communicate, they care if other is sad and do t break things off unless one does something really really bad and remain in contact and what Hiccup and Toothless had was strong and deep and something very different from what school friends or friends from work etc have so comparing them to it is unfitting. Hell the official wiki called them soulmates which Dean apparently decided that he didn't see. The fact that Grimmel isn't even in it and apparently other dragons stay is ridiculous and insulting. The only lesson for children from that book and movie is " Toss all your friends and family aside if the girl is pretty enough. Platonic love is utterly inferior to romantic interest after all. All your friends will leave you eventually. The only way to escape and be safe from bigotry and prejudice is to hide until the world thinks we don't exist and no one is trying to make that world safe for us, if we show ourselves again it would cause chaos and we will be in danger again meaning we are sentenced to stay in hiding forever" Trully amazing message in those times.

https://m.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-night-fury-and-the-light-fury-tina-gallo/1128864180

If Tuffnut or Snotlout meet a hot girl on another island and he only exchanged few words with her but she was soooo beautiful would you still say it's okay? He should abandon Berk, his friends and his dragon for her no? Because she is scared of dragons obliviously. Even if they barely know her. They suddenly don't care anymore about anything but her suddenly after all. Sounds like magic love potion to me. That needs some hammer to the head to get rid off.

Sorry for the rant. But I just had to say something about it, it's been bubbling inside me and keeps doing it without end.

I'm exchausted. Httyd was my home away from home I retreated here when things pulled me down and it always made me feel safe, it never failed to help me rise up to remind me that even when things look bad it's worth holding on and fighting because things will get better eventually but now it's all corrupted, burned down with skeletons of what it was lying about and I feel constant danger in it now, it feels like cemetery. When THW came out I felt a string of hope httyd always gave me because exactly in that same year mere weeks before I lost my parent and was struggling to cope so I thought that it will help me rise again, remind me of that again, and since Hiccup lost his father recently too I expected to see him deal with that also, but that wasn't even touched upon at all and instead what thw did was go against everything httyd stands for and crapped on it while butchering characters to the bone, it kicked me down even lower. I felt even worse, everything felt numb, it felt like I just escaped from somewhere where I saw someone take something dear from me, stomped it down, mangled it, set fire on it and then spat on it, like nothing mattered and it's not worth fighting anymore. And I feel like giving up and leaving and I did for a while but I don't want to anymore, it's exacly what THW says to do. I have to keep fighting and believing in what httyd 1, 2 and tvshows was and showed us. I have to remember the real Hiccup and Toothless and not let them get burried by this mockery versions of them. The only way I regard THW is a nightmare, a mockery. It's what exactly Hiccup's nightmare would be.

Is there even hope of saving httyd somehow ?

#thw salt #thw criticism #hidden drainhole

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wherevermyway · 3 years

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why can’t we drink forever? (1/2) // minsung // 18+

one: i will only complicate you series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ pairing: lee minho x han jisung rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: creator chose not to use archive warnings, explicit sexual content past character death, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, depression, edgy cynical depressed jisung, ambiguous/open ending. word count: 5,883 also on AO3

originally posted: 20 january 2021

After being arrested for driving under the influence, Jisung learns that money can buy his way out of jail time, but it can’t buy his way out of his feelings.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

“I don’t know how things got this way, Sungie, baby. I’m worried about you.”

A sarcastic huff leaves the lips of the young man seated in the passenger seat of a sleek, new all-white Audi. He kicks his feet up on the dash, earning a frown from the middle-aged woman driving the vehicle. The young blonde stares out the window as he fumbles around his hoodie pocket. Out comes a white pack of Marlboro Gold cigarettes and an engraved silver lighter.

“You and me both, ma,” he tuts as he pops a white cigarette up from the pack into his mouth, flicking the dial of his lighter as he takes in a deep breath. He jams a finger down on the window button, the crisp winter air blowing the grey cloud around, the acrid scent of burnt tobacco filling the car. “Guess if we knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be in the car now, huh?”

“Maybe you’d have gotten into a better university,” his mother sighs as she shakes her head.

A devious smirk curls up on the young man’s mouth as he brings the cigarette up to his lips again, taking a long drag. He knows better than to verbally respond with a cynical quip.

Maybe I’d be fuckin’ dead.

Alcoholics Anonymous sounded like a cult following: a twelve-step programme where all of its members had to follow a strict code, be mentored by a sponsor, and thank some bullshit deity to be given a new chance every day. “Every day is a new chance,” the cult leader would say at the beginning of every meeting. “May God grant us the serenity…”

“I’m Jisung, and the courts told me I’m an alcoholic, so I guess I’m an alcoholic,” the artificial blonde shrugged his shoulders, the ghost of burnt coffee still dancing on his tongue as he spoke.

The mindless cult drones spouted off a casual “hi, Jisung,” in monotonous, unenthusiastic unity as the young man sat down.

“How did you get here?” The meeting’s leader was relentless in prodding the young man. “You’re not obligated to tell us, of course,” which was a boldfaced lie, “but acknowledging your problems might help your recovery.”

Jisung brought the styrofoam cup full of lukewarm, acrid coffee to his lips and took a long sip. He winced at the taste and pursed his lips as he made eye contact with the leader. “I was abducted by aliens, man, now I’m here. Shit was crazy.”

The leader frowned, ready to interrupt Jisung.

“Nah,” the young man kicked his feet out from under the metal fold-up chair, flipping his hood over his head with his free hand. “I got drunk, went out to get more booze, then hit a tree on the way back and the cops pulled me over since my headlight was out. The internet wasn’t lying when they said all cops are fuckin’ bastards.” His quip earned a laugh from a few younger members, whereas several of the older people shook their heads in frustration.

“Please,” the leader sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “let’s refrain from political commentary. Thank you for your,” there’s a pause as the leader clears his throat, “for your candor, Jisung. Now that we’ve introduced all of our new attendees, why don’t we move along with the next step in the meeting?”

The meeting was pointless, all of the same shit that Jisung had read about in the fliers that were handed to him with his sentencing. He had to endure twelve months of this, but it wasn’t like he was doing much else with his life, anyways. Jisung poured the last of the disgusting coffee from the cardboard takeaway box into his cup, then tossed the box into the large rubbish bin at the end of the table. One last cup of free shitty coffee before he left; it would pair nicely with the cigarette he so desperately craved.

“Hey!” A bright voice came up behind him and Jisung rolled his eyes at the way optimism dripped from the trill. He slowly turned around, taking a sip of the cold coffee in his cup. A young man with neon pink hair, probably the same age as Jisung, smiled widely as he stuck his hand out. “I’m Felix, nice to see someone here that’s about my age.”

Jisung gingerly accepted the hand and shook it twice before quickly sticking his hand back into his pocket. “Charmed. How long are you stuck here for?”

“Oh!” Felix shook his head, smile still wide on his face as he pensively looked down to his shoes. “I’m not here for… well, I’m a psychology major.”

Of course he was.

Felix tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and tapped his foot twice as he continued to smile at Jisung. “I’m also new here and was hoping I could make friends.”

Jisung shook his head, reaching into his hoodie pocket for his pack of cigarettes and familiar silver lighter. “I’m not a good influence. Don’t think I’d make good friends with someone so… nice.” He meandered a white cigarette out of the packet with a single hand, then tucked it behind his ear, lighter still tucked into his palm. “No offence, dude.”

The smile finally fell from the pink-haired man, who quickly pulled his hands from his pockets, “wait, wait!”

Jisung cocked an eyebrow at the man, biting his tongue as he felt the clawing at the back of his head, his synapses screaming a plea for him to get a hit of more nicotine.

“I don’t wanna sound desperate,” Felix ran his bottom lip under his teeth as he looked around nervously, “I just really wanna talk with someone that’s so different than me. I’ll even buy you dinner or something from the diner down the street.”

As insulting as the words ‘so different than me’ came off to Jisung, desperation was a bad look for anyone. “You got a car?” Felix nodded twice, biting his lip as he stared at Jisung. “Lead the way, psycho student Felix.”

Felix’s eyes went wide and his bright smile came back, beaming brighter than before. “It’s psychology, not psycho.”

The blonde rolled his eyes as he plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and tucked it in between his teeth. “I know what I said.”

The food at the diner was mediocre at best: rubbery scrambled eggs and burgers made from frozen patties that were likely a concoction of rejected organ meat slurry and textured vegetable protein. It was cheap, but it was always good. Rich in comfort, lacking in quality: the antithesis to Jisung’s life.

Jisung hadn’t been here in two years, not since his friend turned on-again, off-again boyfriend Changbin left for university, halfway across the country. This was the place they’d come to at three in the morning after hitting up a house party, where they would drunkenly curl up with each other and swap kisses that tasted like stale beer and watery coffee.

This was the place where Changbin broke up with Jisung for the final time, Changbin citing that they wouldn’t be able to stay in contact much anymore. However, he hadn’t told Jisung that he was sleeping with someone that graduated a couple years prior and was conveniently attending the same university as him.

That night tasted like vodka and strawberry soda, the latter of which Jisung never let grace his tastebuds again.

The blonde scowled down at his orange juice, watching the ring light above their table shimmer and ripple in the liquid. He hadn’t heard from Changbin in two years, and he was as bitter about it as the black, burnt edges of the hashbrowns that stuck to his plate.

“You okay?” Felix poked his fries with a fork, bringing one to his lips as he scanned Jisung’s expression.

“Are any of us okay, psycho student?”

Felix furrowed his brows and set his fork down against his plate, chewing on the crinkled french fry a bit before he swallowed. He folded his hands together and rested his chin against the interlaced fingers. “No, like,” he shrugged, eyes shifting around a bit, “I mean it. You seem kinda distant.”

Jisung rolled his eyes up to meet Felix’s and he cocked his eyebrow. He was starting to regret tagging along with this kid he barely knew, feeling like this was less of a potential friendship and more like a therapy session. “You don’t know me, man.”

“No, but I know people.”

“You’re a sophomore psychology student, dude. You don’t know shit.”

The pink-haired man sighed, back thudding against the plasticky booth. “I guess you’re right about that. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know, though.”

“Your funeral, then.” Jisung followed suit, leaning up against the booth with a bit more tact, swinging his arm around the wood frame. “I had my first sip of alcohol when I was thirteen. Got bored when my parents fucked off to Italy on some shitty trip without me.”

Felix tilted his head up like a dog, suddenly alive with renewed interest.

“They’re only parents in blood and title.” Jisung looked down at the table, scratching inanely at a chip in the pale green linoleum. “I was raised by nannies and tutors until I was fifteen. Most parents would probably panic when they leave the house, coming back to an empty liquor cabinet. My parents? Nah, they just restocked it and told me not to drink too much at once.”

“That’s,” Felix’s voice trailed off as he looked away, milling over the new information.

“It’s fucked,” Jisung finished the sentence, then brought the plastic cup of orange juice to his mouth and took a long sip. He set the cup back down and pulled up the sleeve covering his left arm, presenting the flesh over the table. Felix visibly recoiled as he eyed dozens of scarred lines littered across the skin, some marks still relatively fresh. “Their response to this? ‘We’ll get you into therapy and you won’t do this again.’ It was always the best money could buy, but their money didn’t do shit to my brain.” He shuffled the cloth over his arm again, ignoring the look of pity Felix offered him.

“If money could buy them a better son, they would’ve traded me out, like upgrading a car on a lease.”

Felix stumbled over his words a bit as Jisung rifled through his pockets, pulling out his phone and his wallet. “You still wanna make friends with someone like me?”

It took a moment, but Felix tentatively nodded his head. “Doesn’t sound like you have many friends to begin with,” he nervously sputtered out.

Jisung cocked his head to the side and licked his teeth as he smiled. “I don’t do friends. But life’s full of surprises. Anyway, gimme your phone so we can swap contact info.”

They exchanged phone numbers and Jisung dropped a couple of bills on the table. “Don’t worry about it,” he said as soon as Felix opened his mouth to protest, “you’re a university student and I’ve got my shitty parents’ cash to burn.”

“I’ll see you next week?” Felix questioned as Jisung stepped out of his shoddy 2003 Toyota Camry.

Jisung nodded once, tipping his index and middle fingers off of his forehead. “You got it. Thanks for the ride, mate.” He slammed the door with a fake smile that faded as soon as he turned around. Sure, Felix was the antithesis of everything Jisung was, but he could prove to be a source of entertainment over the next year.

Despite being cynical and vehemently anti-religion, Jisung always said a quiet prayer to himself as he opened the door, hoping his parents weren’t home when he arrived. Today, it seemed like luck was on his side: his mother’s keys weren’t on the key rack, and his father had yet to return from some bullshit ‘business trip’ off in China. Perhaps it was Morocco or Norway; they all blurred together in a haze of indifference. All Jisung was sure of was the fact that his father had probably taken one of his mistresses away to some foreign country he was pretending to secure a business deal in.

“Everyone’s favourite fuck-up is home!” Jisung shouted in the empty vestibule, his voice echoing against the cold walls. He didn’t expect a response, so when he was greeted with a comfortable silence, he smiled to himself. He kicked his shoes off and unceremoniously tossed them into the corner by the key rack.

His heavy, heel-first footsteps echoed as he made his way towards the kitchen, pulling a bottle of wine out of a glass display cooler as he padded towards the main refrigerator. He pulled out a box of takeaway Indian curry from the night prior, setting both the box and the bottle on the marble kitchen island, shuffling his feet towards a drawer. He retrieved a fork and a wine key, tossing them onto the countertop as he pulled out his phone, pack of cigarettes, and his lighter.

Jisung opened the bottle of wine as he sat down on a stool next to the counter, tossing the cork towards the rubbish bin, shrugging as he missed. That was a problem for later, and he didn’t feel like dealing with it now. Completely ignoring the takeaway carton, Jisung grabbed the wine bottle, then took a long guzzle directly from it. He winced a bit as the flavour of fermented floral grapes perfumed his mouth with a sharp, sickly rotten scent. The bottle clattered loudly against the marble, the echoing reminding Jisung of just how alone he was in such a large house.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, bringing his phone up in front of his face, scrolling through one of his playlists until he found the right song. With a few taps, some Drake came through the kitchen speakers. Jisung turned up the volume to near max, his head subconsciously moving to the beat of “In My Feelings”. He took a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it, the tip turning from paper and plant to a red, ashy ember as he inhaled.

Was he allowed to smoke in the house? Of course not.

Did Jisung give a shit? Absolutely not.

A text message popped up as Jisung aimlessly scrolled through his various notifications. He opened it, barely scanning through the entire message from his mother until his eyes stopped on a blue phone number. His eyes narrowed, poring over the entire message. “A coworker of mine offered to be a sponsor for you: Lee Minho. He’s a few years older than you, but he’s nice. Here’s his number, please reach out to him.”

Jisung sarcastically scoffed, locking his phone as he placed it back on the countertop, swapping it for the bottle of wine. He took a drag off of his cigarette, then took another long swig from the bottle. “We admit we’re powerless to alcohol,” he mutters the first step under his breath as he slams the bottle down on the counter.

“Maybe I don’t fucking care.”

Jisung woke up on the couch to the sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor just before eight in the morning, his fingers jostling an empty bottle of scotch on the floor as he brought his hands to his face.

“Get cleaned up, please.” His mother’s voice was accompanied by bright spotlights suddenly shining directly on his face. “I’ve invited Minho over to meet with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Jisung’s voice was low and gravelly, groaning as he sat upright. The world spun, his body carried by the false inertia his mind had created.

His mother trotted off to the kitchen, shouting over her shoulder. “I know you didn’t. I did it because I care about you, Sungie.”

The blonde rubbed his clammy hands against his face again, attempting to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes. He grabbed his phone off of the floor, then wobbled his way upright, the living room spinning around him in a familiar sense of uneasiness.

“You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself,” he muttered under his breath.

Somehow, Jisung managed to make his way upstairs to his room, stripping an article of clothing off with each lazy step from his bedroom door towards his personal washroom. By the time he got to the glass enclosure of the shower, he was totally stripped bare. Jisung distantly stared at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, a gaunt and ashy doppelganger staring back at him with a pained, empty look on his face.

Instead of stepping into the shower, Jisung approached the mirror, subconsciously bringing his hands to touch his flushed face. His cheekbones were more prominent now than they were earlier in the year, dark circles painted in broad strokes under his eyes. His gaze trailed down the scars he had inflicted on his arms and on his thighs, reminders of the failed attempts to take his own life that he was now forced to carry with him, wearing each line and mark as a badge of shame.

A warm tear rolled down his face as it contorted into an expression of terror and hurt, before he took his fist and crashed it into the mirror in front of him, a spiderweb of the impact left behind in the cracked glass as he pulled his bloodied knuckles away. Some glass shattered to the floor, some still wedged in the gaps between his fingers, and Jisung stared at the crack that split his reflection into several fragments.

How he was still alive was beyond him.

“Mrs. Han, please,” a lilted, unfamiliar laugh travelled up the staircase as Jisung slowly made his way down towards the first floor. He squinted at the noise that caused his head to throb, realizing that someone unknown speaking to his mother, likely the Minho she had mentioned earlier. With each step he took towards the drawing room, the voice got louder, each staccatoed laugh more pronounced.

“Jisung, come sit,” his mother said, replacing the genuine smile on her face with a fake, ‘Vaseline-on-the-teeth’ smile. She motioned towards the empty space on the couch, opposite from the young brunette that turned around.

Jisung met his eyes and it suddenly felt like his surroundings cracked and shattered around him, like the mirror upstairs. Rich brown eyes glistened behind the black and gold browline glasses that rested against the bridge of his nose. Rose-tinted lips curled upwards in a shy smile, revealing large, rabbit-like front teeth that rested softly against his bottom lip.

“Hi,” the stranger said with a gentle wave, “I’m Minho. Resident biochemist at the pharmaceutical company your mother works for.”

As Jisung made his way over to the open spot on the couch, he squinted, refusing to break eye contact with the strange invader. It felt like he was a wild animal on display, about to be poked and prodded by zookeeper staff or by scientists in some sort of underground, off-the-books laboratory. It would fit, after all, since the man was some sort of scientist.

“I’ll let you be,” Jisung’s mother says, rising to her feet. “Maybe you should tell Minho about your little misstep last night, hmm?”

Jisung rolled his tongue over his bottom lip and shook his head sarcastically. “Go enjoy your overfilled glass of wine at nine-fucking-thirty, ma. I’ll be here spilling my guts to a stranger that gives more of a shit about me than you.” Minho winced and his expression fell from cheerful to shocked.

The men stared at each other, Jisung’s gaze layered with arrogance, and Minho’s heavy with awkward discomfort. “So,” the younger man kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, pulling a pack of cigarettes and his trusted lighter from his sweatshirt pocket, hoping to wrap up the conversation as soon as possible. “I know you work with my mother, you’re an alcoholic, and your name’s Minho.” As quickly as Jisung could take in a breath, the cigarette between his teeth was lit, and he was glaring at the intruder through the grey haze that came between them. Their eyes met again, Jisung growing more and more wary by the second. “Why should I pick you as my sponsor, when I feel like you’re just gonna snitch to my mother?”

Minho’s jaw looked like it was clenched too tight, his bottom eyelids squinted upwards as he studied the younger man in front of him. They watched each other, eyeing each micromovement the other’s face made. About halfway through Jisung’s cigarette, Minho finally broke the uncomfortable eye contact, and took a deep breath. “I’m not asking for you to trust me, or to spill your life story,” he shifted, sitting upright, “but for you to see me as a mentor when things get hard and you want to dampen your feelings with alcohol. I’ve been there, Jisung.”

Indignation washed over the younger man’s face, quickly replaced by a familiar wave of arrogance. Jisung shook his head, ashing his cigarette directly onto the floor. “Doubt it,” he tutted, licking his teeth as he nodded his head, staring at the ring on Minho’s finger. He smirked to himself, then turned his head away and up towards the ceiling. “Looks like you’ve got someone that loves you. I don’t know what that feels like; never have, never will.”

The elder chewed on his bottom lip, clenching his fist as his eyes subconsciously scanned the ring on his finger. “Had.”

“What?” Jisung turned his head back towards Minho with a look of disgust on his face, ashes falling from his cigarette.

The brunette sighed, leaning further into the couch, nervously running his thumb over his balled up fingers. “He’s the reason I turned to drinking, to fill the void he left in my heart when he died.”

Shit.

For the first time in ages, Jisung felt a slight pang of regret twinge in his abdomen.

Minho swallowed hard, almost as if he were holding back his emotions. “We were married for five years, together since high school. You’d think I would’ve known the signs, but Chan was so good at hiding things, hiding his pain from everyone.”

The ember in Jisung’s cigarette died out as he found himself enraptured in Minho’s story.

Chan was Minho’s high school sweetheart. They started dating their sophomore year of high school, both attended the same university, and they got married when they were twenty. To Minho, Chan was everything. They supported each other, making the other man stronger and gave them a reason to go on.

Minho had no idea that Chan was severely depressed, holding his true feelings to his heart. Not long after Minho’s twenty-fifth birthday, Chan disappeared, only leaving a journal behind. It had started off with an apology, that if Minho found his journal, that it was too late to save him and that Chan had simply given up. On nearly every page, Chan reiterated that it wasn’t Minho’s fault, that Chan was just too far gone beyond repair, that Minho had given him a new lease on life, but it wasn’t enough.

Exactly three weeks after Chan had gone missing, police were on the doorstep of their shared home.

“Dental records,” Minho whispered, his eyes distant and glazed over as he lost himself in the memory. “That’s how they knew it was Chan. I don’t remember much after that, but I thought that I could find the answer to why Chan took his own life at the bottom of a bottle.”

Jisung’s grip on the arm of the couch was so tight, his knuckles had turned white and they were starting to ache.

“Several bottles,” Minho continued, “several bottles and several near-death experiences waking up in the hospital later, and I still hadn’t figured out the answer. I figured that maybe I’d see him again if I drank enough. Now,” he folded his arms, tucking his chin into his chest, “I’ve accepted that I’ll never know the answer to that question, that I need to live on for him. If there’s an afterlife, maybe I’ll get to ask him myself. Until then, though,” Minho rolled his teary eyes up to meet Jisung’s uncomfortable gaze, “I just want to atone for not doing enough before. I want to help others that are hurting, you know?”

They continued to stare at each other for what felt like hours, until Jisung finally shook his head. His voice cracked as he tried to speak. “Sorry,” his apology was shockingly sincere, “I guess I spoke before I thought.”

Minho awkwardly smirked, dismissively waving his hand in between them. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted you to know that I’ve been at rock bottom and that there’s a way up and out, as long as you’re willing to put in the effort.”

Maybe Jisung was willing to give Minho a try.

At first, Jisung agreed to meet with Minho once a week after the mandatory AA meeting he attended. It took seven visits spanning seven weeks before Jisung eventually opened up about the neglect he faced from both of his parents, the emptiness he felt from being raised by nannies, feeling like money was more important than his own life.

Ten weeks in, they started hanging out on the weekends. Their relationship shifted from mentorship to friendship, and it was somewhat a relief that Jisung finally had someone he could trust enough to call his friend.

Week fourteen was when things started to shift further. Jisung hadn’t consumed alcohol in eight weeks, and things were clearing up, slowly but surely. He had been meeting with Felix more and more, too — maybe they weren’t quite friends yet, but Jisung was at least trying.

Things were looking up for the first time in Jisung’s life.

At week sixteen, Jisung stayed over at Minho’s apartment, convincing him that he needed to watch Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. The blonde had vehemently pressed that it was, quite possibly, one of the best series of all time, animated or otherwise. After some gentle pressure, Minho finally caved, and they sat on his couch, diving into the show and into some mediocre takeaways.

They had gotten through the first three episodes and Minho finally relented that, yes, it was a good show and that, yes, Jisung was right.

“I knew you’d like it, dude,” Jisung snickered, playfully poking at Minho’s chest. The corner of his lips tugged upward into a crooked smile, and he wore Minho’s seal of approval as some sort of badge of honour.

The brunette turned away, softly smiling into his shoulder as a rush of crimson started to tint his face. “You’ve got me trying all sorts of new things, Ji,” Minho rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before he flashed his teeth at the younger man. “So much for me being the mentor here, huh?”

Jisung sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth at the nickname, trying to ignore the warmth blossoming up his face. He tried to stumble out some sort of response, but he caught himself getting lost in the way that the overhead lights shimmered in Minho’s eyes, highlighting the soft amber and warm bursts of hazelnut that erupted around his pupils. His expression started to falter, and he felt a familiar rush of excitement bloom in his chest, causing his nerves to come to life all around his body.

He remembered that this was how it felt right before he shared his first drunken kiss with Changbin, but something about this felt different. Perhaps it was the fact that Jisung was completely sober, but he desperately wanted Minho to kiss him, to want him back. However, Jisung wasn’t sure if it would have been a good idea, pondering over if Minho was really ready to start a new relationship, especially with someone he was supposed to be mentoring.

“Something on your mind?” Minho’s voice was soft as it gently guided Jisung back to the moment. “You’re kinda spacing out on me.”

“No, no,” Jisung stumbled around the words he wasn’t sure he could say, suddenly distracted by the television in the background. “I guess I was just thinking about the show.”

Minho’s head tilted to the side, concurrently lifting his brow in confusion. “You guess?”

Jisung waved his hand in between them and readjusted his posture so he was further away from Minho. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen it so many times, but it’s one of those shows that you watch and you see something new each time and—”

Warm fingers were suddenly on the side of Jisung’s face, pulling him back into Minho’s space. “You’re a terrible liar.” The voice was soft, yet assertive; low, but so loud. Jisung’s eyes went wide as Minho’s apartment blurred around him, his vision suddenly taken over by the sight of the brunette’s face right up next to his. In front of him.

Before Jisung could process what was happening, he was subconsciously pressing his lips into Minho’s, trying to remember exactly how kissing worked. It was years since the last time he had any practice, but it all came back to him as Minho helped guide Jisung’s face with his hands.

Minho’s tongue was soft, warm, and damp as it gently pressed up against Jisung’s lips, wordlessly pleading for entrance. Without letting his mind mill over the fine details and concerns he possibly had, Jisung parted his lips. Timidly, he rolled his tongue around Minho’s, his hands quivering as his fingers scrambled for purchase in Minho’s hair.

Unlike anyone Jisung had kissed before, this felt right, even if there were some uncomfortable grinding of teeth and awkward nose bumping. Within a reasonable amount of time, they slowly became experts at training the way the other wanted to be kissed. As if Minho could read Jisung’s mind, he would interrupt his soft kisses with gentle nips and grazes at Jisung’s bottom lip.

“Please,” Jisung’s voice cracked as Minho pulled his teeth down his bottom lip, “my neck, I…”

Minho swiftly moved his lips from Jisung’s, peppering tiny pecks against his jawline to his ear, stopping to take the blonde’s earlobe into his mouth with his tongue, grazing the tender flesh between his teeth. Jisung’s back involuntarily arched as the grooves of Minho’s teeth pulled at his sensitive skin, the sensation causing his nerves to come to life with an electrical jolt from head to toe.

The brunette chuckled, his warm breath brushing up against the tiny hairs on Jisung’s ear. He said nothing, simply moving down to press a few soft kisses to the skin just below the younger man’s earlobe. Minho’s lips were soft, gentle, only to be quickly replaced by a sudden, harsh bite into the tender flesh.

A yelp, accompanied by uncontrollable twitching, came from Jisung, who was simultaneously melting into Minho, but also pulling away. The elder’s fingers dug into the blonde’s waist, keeping him in the same position, not allowing him to escape. Jisung’s yelp had faded into a whimper, which evolved into a moan as Minho sucked the flesh between his teeth, quickly repeating the process several times in various spots along Jisung’s neck.

The moans were increasing in volume and breathiness, Jisung subconsciously, frantically rutting his pelvis into the couch. Minho must have caught on to this, letting go of Jisung’s waist to ease him down onto the couch. He pressed his lips to Jisung’s again, dancing his fingertips down to the waistband of the younger man, who was completely blissed out.

“Can I help you with this?” Minho’s voice was somehow both soft yet assertive as his palm pressed against Jisung's clothed erection.

Words eluded Jisung, verbal language suddenly turning into complex algebraic equations that didn’t translate from his head to his tongue. Instead, he groaned in affirmation as he hopelessly rolled his hips upward, finding himself pitiful that he was so desperately craving for Minho to just keep fucking touching him.

Things started to blur in a haze of wanton desire. Minho’s hand gently stroked Jisung’s cock, paying special attention to the way that his fingers and palm brushed against the head. Involuntary twitches took over Jisung as he whimpered and mewled, his shoulder blades grinding into the couch. Minho continued to nibble and bite at Jisung’s neck, occasionally whispering words of assurance and praise into his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” as he slowly dragged his hand from the base of Jisung’s cock up to his head.

“I can’t imagine how incredible you would feel around me,” as he gently thumbed the slit, rubbing precum around the sensitive head and causing Jisung to bite the back of his hand as he failed to stifle a cracked moan.

Jisung’s breaths turned erratic and he was nearly convulsing as his body started to twitch. Minho shifted his weight to his knees, slowing his strokes just enough so that he could awkwardly shift one leg off of the couch to position his head in a way he could take Jisung into his mouth.

“What are you—” Jisung started to question, until he found himself losing control of his body as Minho rolled his tongue around his cock. “Fuck, Minho!” He clamped his eyes shut, arching his back upward, hitting the back of Minho’s throat as he convulsed, his orgasm suddenly completely taking over him. “Minho,” he whined and unclenched his fists; “Minho,” he panted and opened his eyes; “Minho.” With one last breath, he was back to reality.

This had to have been the closest thing to heaven that Jisung thought he would ever experience.

Jisung had stayed over at Minho’s that night, too tired to function like a normal human. They slept on the couch together, necks crooned in uncomfortable positions all night long, bodies stiff from the unnatural firmness that Minho’s couch held. The next morning, they chose not to discuss the night prior, but they did exchange some soft kisses, until Jisung protested, mentioning that their morning breath was distracting him from actually enjoying the kiss.

Their weekends continued on like this: spending time watching a couple of episodes of their chosen programme until they got distracted and lost within each other. Nothing progressed further than handjobs, the occasional blowjob, and the one time that they rolled around naked, making out for so long and so intensely that the way they pressed their bodies together caused Jisung to come without any additional stimulation — and, hey, they liked it.

The budding relationship between them was confusing. During the week, Minho acted like the appropriate, wise mentor, with Jisung as his eager pupil. When the weekend came around, however, all bets were off. In everything but title, they were boyfriends for all intents and purposes. Every time Jisung tried to bring it up, Minho would shut down, saying that he wasn’t ready to really think seriously about it yet.

So, Jisung didn’t press. He was sure that their intimate interactions were causing conflicting emotions to arise within Minho, emotions he probably had been ignoring since Chan’s death, trying to shove them down as time went on. Even though he wanted to navigate the full spectrum of sexual experiences with Minho, Jisung remained silent until Minho was ready.

#why can't we drink forever?#skz fics #skz smut #minsung #lee minho x han jisung #han jisung x lee minho #minho x jisung #jisung x minho #wherevermyway

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