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miraclewoozi · 5 months

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DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC. notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away. notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago.

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room.

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right.

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones.

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’.

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone.

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name.

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry).

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen.

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts.

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour.

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed?

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him.

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense.

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know.

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans?

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can.

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it.

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away.

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced.

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there.

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since.

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie.

There is one more.

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly.

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most.

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it.

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits.

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask.

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through.

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake.

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so.

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage.

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest.

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning.

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on.

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth.

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle.

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough.

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe.

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.”

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—” He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go.

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him.

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.”

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different.

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms.

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice.

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants.

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured.

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use.

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again.

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans.

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle.

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat.

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like.

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base.

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him.

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming.

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess.

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop.

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name.

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to.

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.”

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own.

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache.

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum.

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas.

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes.#*#this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

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ncteez · 2 years

Text

Eyes on you (m.l)

Your roommate’s brother was...something. Obnoxiously cocky, attractive, and insanely good at pressing buttons that cause your gut to bubble with arousal.

requested by @markiepoos: “Open your mouth for me, baby.” + “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

wordcount― 6.1k

pairing― mark lee x afab reader

content― mark is the punk brother of your roommate who stays for a weekend, he has long hair and piercings, he’s also a tease, you have a high sex drive, spit kink, masturbation, voyeurism, cream pie, rly--he goes for it raw, he asks a lot of questions as a form of dirty talk because he likes constant confirmation that he’s the reason you’re so wet.

note― mark lee reigns supreme in my brain once again. all these drabble requests keep ending up being fics, but yknow what? you’re welcome.

The weekend felt like it couldn’t come soon enough. You’d met your roommate’s brother a few times before and every time it left you a puddle on the floor because, honestly, he’s a fucking tease. The good news, is you happen to love that shit and throw it right back at him with double the energy.

Half of the time you wonder if he only comes around because of you, but that’s your ego talking. Doesn’t matter much, because the only thing on your mind is how you plan to get under his skin this time, or how he plans to get under yours.

Thankfully, that week flew by quickly and you could feel the arousal in your bones at the very idea of having a messy, careless, man living in your apartment for two nights and three days.

Friday was a breezy fall day, one that made you shiver at the comfort of it all. You couldn’t wait to get out of class so that you could go home and make yourself some type of warm drink before cuddling in to watch a horror movie with none other than the horror master himself.

Upon walking through your door during the late evening, your eyes met his before you looked anywhere else. There he was, with slightly longer hair than he had the last time you’d seen him. A new piercing sitting prettily above his right eye, emphasizing the rounded shape of his doe eyes. You still remember the first time you met him, his personality didn’t at all match the way he looked with his bright polos and khakis. You watched him turn into this…sexy man during those brief moments when the two of you saw each other. Honestly, even the first time with his stupid khaki pants and equally as boring polo, he looked you up and down like he could have devoured you whole. That was when you learned that the look he was sporting at the time was all for show.

He still looks at you the same way, but his eyes matched the attire now. Dark.

Mark fucking loomed in your brain the entire night as you watched horror movie after horror movie simply because you did not want to leave his space without the first instance of the regular teasing the two of you would share each time he was around. Your roommate was always so aloof, never noticing too often but also probably careless enough to not look twice at the two of you if she were to walk in on him whispering something dirty into your ear. (This has happened, only once though.)

It was the fourth movie of the night and your roommate was annoyed that the two of you were showing no signs of leaving the tv in search of something else. She got up, nodded, and stated that she was going to go shower and go to bed.

You didn’t miss the look Mark gave to you knowing the two of you would finally be alone, but the only reason you didn’t miss it is because you were looking at him the same way.

When she left the room and it was just the two of you, the silence stuck around as the movie finally left it’s opening scene. You kept your eyes adjusted to the screen, but you were mostly paying attention to his movements through your peripheral vision. He was moving himself closer to you.

Of course, you pretended not to notice, even when he confidently placed himself directly next to you and threw his arm around your shoulder. The two of you probably looked like a couple, but you didn’t care that you werent. Even the smallest touch from him was enough to have the pits of your stomach igniting. Mostly because you genuinely do want to fuck him eventually, but also because you haven’t masturbated today like you usually would. When you skip your private time, often times, you get flustered a bit too easily.

“Did you get all dressed up for me today?” Mark leans in to whisper against your ear, but quickly pulls back to his original space next to you.

You did. You definitely got dressed up for him today, knowing that if a man is going to ogle you, the least you can do is look fucking good.

“Because it’s doing something to me–” He says a little louder, not leaning in this time but moving his hand from the back of the couch to the strap on your shoulder and fiddling with it.

You turn your face just barely to look at him and notice that his eyes were trained on your neck and collar bones. He could probably see the goosebumps that rose from that alone. You smirk in response to him, lifting your legs from off the floor and tucking them against yourself as you turn to him fully.

As your shoulder leaves his grasp, he doesn’t fight to hold you there, and instead pulls his arm back over to himself and dips it beneath the blanket you were under. He looked bigger than usual today, with his legs spread out like any man would do when sitting against a couch at midnight. You felt his palm just above your knee, and the goosebumps come washing over you yet again.

“And if I did?” You question quietly, ears listening more to the shower of your roommate than to him or the movie now.

“We both know you did.” He responds calmly, running his hand up a little higher. “Even these pajamas look to be for me.”

They were.

“Or maybe they’re just comfortable?”

He shakes his head in a low chuckle, hands still roaming against your skin in a show of control and confidence.

“Or maybe you’re just dangling yourself in front of me again because you love getting a rise out of me?”

You glare at him, leaning in a bit with faux frustration.

“I’m just sitting here, Mark. I am doing nothing to get a rise out of you.”

Okay, in all honesty, the fact that you weren’t entirely lying about not attempting to get a rise out of him was one thing, but also, it burns you up inside knowing that simply wearing the appropriate outfit was enough to get him going.

Just at that moment, Mark leans into you again. Because you’re facing him, it was a bit more intimate than you thought it would get just on the first night but it didn’t bother you in the slightest. His dark eyes were looking directly through you when he seethed the words out.

“Sitting there being fucking pretty.” He corrects you. “And you know it.”

The flush you felt across your cheeks felt nice when you looked back at him. You realize his hand is now placed on your upper thigh and he’s leaning in more, practically guiding you to turn your body and lean back against the couch again by his eyes alone.

Or maybe you were leaning away to free yourself from his gaze, and he was chasing? Who knows?

By this point, still staring back at him, you note that he had adjusted his body to the point of almost being on top of you. At least with his upper half hovering over you like this. One hand on your leg and the other going to the back of the couch as to steady himself while leaning this way.

“You know it, don’t you?” He says to you, eyes glancing at the way your face goes from playful to serious.

You almost flutter your eyes shut, thinking that this may be the first time he kisses you, maybe this will be the first time he moves his hands up past your thighs and toys with the pretty lace you put on just in case.

“You’re–” You go to say, breaking out of the state of concentrating on his warm hand radiating across your skin. “You’re better than you were last time.”

You can hear him chuckle about that. He’s probably had some practice with women since he last saw you, despite that time still leaving you a mess on your floor as you plunged your fingers into yourself and wished it was him doing it. God, if he only knew how much it actually gets to you.

“Yeah?” He breathes out, squeezing your thigh and inching his face closer. “Do you think about what I did last time a lot?”

You nod to him without a second thought. The way he hovered over you was similar to this, whispering how he got himself off to you through the crack of the guest room door when you thought he was sleeping. How he saw the way your eyes fell to him through that little crack in the door and you moved from his sight. Given, the guest room was directly across the hallway from your own bedroom, you really did think he was sleeping and that’s why you didn’t close the door upon changing quickly to your pajamas that night.

“I still think about the way you looked, with your pretty hands running through your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror–” He groans a little bit when he says it, closing his eyes. You can tell he’s picturing the only glimpse of your naked skin that he remembers.

You stay silent for a moment. It’s hot to you that he did that but it’s also slightly embarrassing because you genuinely didn’t know he was watching you on that night. You’ve never been watched like that, but this is Mark, and he’s definitely the type to do it.

“Are you getting shy on me now?” He pulls back at your silence, letting his hand fall back down your leg to a less dangerous area. “What happened to playing along?”

His question hangs in the air only because you couldn’t answer him with the way your roommate swings the bathroom door open and heads towards the living room, presumably to check on the two of you.

He shuffles back into his spot and quickly moves to the end of the couch to act as if he weren’t just making his way to fully be on top of you. All you can do is sit in the same position, feeling the tingling sensation of your leg adjusting to the fact that his hand was no longer against the skin there.

“I’m gonna head to bed but I was thinking–” She trails off, unaware of the air in the room. “Do you guys wanna go to that pumpkin festival tomorrow?”

Mark looks over to her with a bright smile, one that looks so brotherly despite the seduction he was just throwing your way.

“Yeah, I’m down!” He responds with excitement, and for a short moment, you could see him bounce a bit in his seat from the excitement. It’s cute, honestly.

“Sounds good to me.” You croak out, brain still completely focused on Mark and not at all your beloved roommate.

It was just past two in the morning when you headed to bed, for the most part, it was because you were so fucking turned on by the way Mark would keep his hand on your leg, trailing it up, up, up, and then chuckling at your disappointment when he removed his hand entirely. He did that the entire time, teasing and fucking you with the idea of possibly having him, and then ripping it from you.

You were frustrated upon entering your room, sexually frustrated for your roommate’s brother. You held no shame in it, he was hot and he was giving you attention.

Closing your door, because you’re still not entirely sure how you feel about Mark seeing you do this to yourself. He doesn’t deserve to see it anyway, considering how wet you are and yet, still empty after years of having him tease you like this.

The door closes with a click and upon being alone in this room, you knew exactly what to do and how to touch yourself in order to relieve this pressure from your body. You didn’t hesitate even for a second to shimmy your pajama bottoms off of you along with the panties that were wasted on nothing but your own slippery arousal.

Feeling yourself for a few moments, you really were so wet, and you can imagine if he knew it or saw it, you’d be able to hear him groan or say dirty, embarrassing things about it that would just cause it to drip down your legs more than it already was. But, he’s not doing that, and he probably won't tonight anyway.

You let your fingers slip through your folds as you fiddle a bit with your tank top, lowering it to free your tits just enough to circle and pinch your nipples with your other hand. You close your eyes with a sigh upon feeling a tiny bit of relief, images going to Mark doing it instead.

His hands would be bigger, rougher maybe. He would touch you like this, you think, as you tease your entrance a bit before sliding your fingers back up and circling your clit. He would abuse your nipples like this, you add to your train of thought, pinching harshly against the puckered skin and sending a shiver down your spine.

Your legs fall open at the idea of him doing this for you, much like they always do, and just as you dip your hands down to tease yourself enough to anticipate the penetration of your fingers, you hear your door creak open.

Half lidded, your eyes go to the door just as you slide your fingers into yourself with a quiet moan. You really should stop, but you knew who it was opening that door and you cannot be bothered to care now that you finally feel something fucking into you.

When he steps inside, eyes trained directly to the pussy he had only ever imagined seeing during his own self-fuck sessions, a smile makes it’s way onto his face. He’s almost looking at you with pity, but also a sort of proudness.

“Closing the door so I couldn’t watch you again? Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He tsks towards you, standing in place against the door as he closes it. You’d argue that his voice could have woken up your roommate, but your fingers seem to have a mind of their own, moving faster just looking at him. “You know I could hear how wet you are through the door, right?”

You close your eyes, throwing your head back against your pillows in a low rumble, and needy groan towards his words, and still, your fingers keep their pace. Surely he could hear it, of course, he fucking could. The sheer amount of wetness between your legs could be heard by anyone if they were standing outside of your door and listening close enough.

When you open your eyes again, turning your head to look directly at him as he does it, you watch as he drags his fingers across his sweatpants, gripping himself through the fabric and kneading it slightly.

“Jesus, you’re such a fucking tease, Mark, seriously,” You try to say in the calmest way possible while you’re literally fucking yourself, but it comes out a bit needier than you wanted.

“I know, It’s fun to see you act like you don’t think about me fucking you.” He chuckles again, wincing as he grips his cock for a split second. “If you’d just admit it, you wouldn’t have to be all alone doing this to yourself.” His voice breaks a bit when he says it, his own arousal swelling up in him at the sight of you doing this to yourself. He’s genuinely struggling right now to keep his cocky composure towards you, especially considering you’re spread out practically for him.

“Then fucking do it.” You whimper in a frustrated kind of way, slipping your fingers out of yourself and sliding them up to your clit.

“Ah,” He hangs his head, looking at you from under the messy fringe that falls in front of his eyes. “You have to admit it first. Admit that you were just thinking about how much better I’d feel doing that for you.” He’s talking, and you’re listening, honestly, you are. It’s just that, it’s a bit hard with the way you know his eyes are trained on you, and your eyes are trained on his hand lazily jerking off the one thing you want right now.

Your mouth hangs open only slightly when you see him thrust up against his palm, almost as if it was unintentional on his part. You think, maybe, it was unintentional and it was him losing his composure for a split second for you to see.

“Admit it.” He seethes out this time, his hips bucking up again against his hand.

Finally, your eyes trail to meet his, which glance back to you from where he had attempted to watch the way your fingers circled your clit. His head lifts back this time, exposing the long expanse of his neck with his longer hair tickling against the sides of it. You want to fucking bite it so bad.

Wincing at the sheer speed of your fingers on yourself, you’re kind of offended that he’s been able to just stand there and watch you without so much as exposing his own skin. It isn’t fair. Maybe you should admit it, just to get what you want. It’s what he wants too, clearly.

“I was thinking about you.” You admit in a broken whine, moving your fingers back down your slit and teasing yet again at the enterence. “I was thinking about how much bigger your hands are, how much deeper you could–” You slide your fingers in, wishing so badly that it was his.

“No, tell me you’ve wanted to fuck me since we met.” He tsks again, forcing himself to keep his cock contained in his pants because he’s honestly trying so hard not to take over for you and prove that he could definitely fuck you better than your fingers could..

“All you have to do is say it, just say it.” He pleads this time, twitching in his pants as he takes a step towards you.

You stare at him, you look at the way his cock is heavy beneath his sweats, the way his hair is a mess and his pretty lips are struggling to remain still across his face as he lets out short breaths with little moans along with them. You’re gonna say it.

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for ages Mark, so can you please stop making me wait for it?”

Within a few seconds, he’s on your bed and pulling your fingers out of yourself.

“Look how pretty you are.” He compliments, finally taking the image of you in up close and personal. “God, so fucking wet.” He gently touches your folds just to feel the way it coats his fingers and leaves little strings of arousal stretching out as he pulls them away.

You miss the way he experimentally tastes his fingers before gripping both of your legs and spreading them out so that he can get between them. “Gonna clean you up first.” He admits with little shame, dipping his head down at such speed that you can barely respond before you feel him lick a stripe up your slit and pull back.

He groans at the flavor, unintentionally bucking his hips against nothing as he leans down again to taste you deeper this time. You reach for his hair instantly, just to grab a hold of something because Mark is finally between your fucking legs. Finally.

You see stars faster than you’d like to admit but you’re going to blame the sheer sexual frustration that he always brings to you. And just as quickly as you’re seeing stars, he brings you back down to earth when he lifts his head and replaces his tongue with his finger.

“Bet just one of my fingers could do the job, don’t you think?” He chuckles in a cocky way, but you still nod, because yeah, probably.

And then he’s moving his lips up your body to your neck, kissing the spot he had been staring at before during the movie for a long while as he slowly slides his finger into you with ease. He genuinely cannot get over how wet you are for him, he always wondered just how much his teasing got to you.

Slowly he fucks his finger into you, just enough to get a rise out of your chest with a deep breath, and then he moves his lips further up to kiss against your jaw and chin, finally landing on your lips without so much as asking. Then again, did he really have to?

You allow him to kiss you, letting him part your lips with his tongue. Each time he slides his tongue against yours, his finger fucks out of you, and each time he pulls back to look at you, he fucks his finger back in just to see the reaction in your eyes. He wants to see what he does to you.

“You like this?” He smiles against your lips, slipping in another finger because he honestly wasn’t just going to use one despite knowing it would be all he needs to get you off. “You like when it’s me fucking into you, don’t you?”

You nod against him, letting your lips fall as you feel him scissor his fingers inside of you.

Mark studies your faces of pleasure as he experimentally feels around inside of you, opening you up so that way he can drive his cock into you with ease when the time comes. He thinks his favorite is when your mouth is slack like this, your tongue glistening with saliva and lips plush and ready to be kissed. He can still taste you against his own tongue, and despite wanting to taste you for much longer than he had, he–

With little effort or permission from you, he’s practically drooling at the image of you, and it’s so fucking easy for him to gather all of that saliva in his mouth and let it drip from his tongue and into your mouth.

He watches you as he does it and takes note of the way you don’t realize what he’s doing at first, but then again he did fuck his fingers into you faster and watched your mouth fall open even more.

When you did open your eyes and realize what he was doing, you closed your mouth and looked at him with furrowed brows, but he was quick to lean back on his knees, slowing the pace of his fingers, and using his other hand to pinch your cheeks and drag your face up towards him. Mostly so that you were looking up at him towering over you now.

“Open your mouth for me, Baby, let me do it again.” He instructs, pinching against your cheeks as if to force your mouth open.

You relent, not entirely disgusted by the idea considering you want nothing more than to be choked by his cum anyway. Maybe you’d be disgusted by it later, but right now? At this moment? You’re not, and you forget the initial shock you had when you open your mouth for him.

“So good, so pretty like this.” He compliments, looking down at you as he pulls his fingers out of you to finally give your clit some attention. “Moan for me.” He instructs again before allowing the spit to trail down his tongue at a slow pace.

Even without his instruction, you were going to moan anyway with the way his fingers toyed against you. And when you do, you can feel his spit miss your mouth slightly and trail down your bottom lip and chin.

You’re still moaning though, feeling your gut bubble up with intense arousal that threatens your clenching pussy with an oncoming orgasm.

You barely notice him swipe up the saliva and press his thumb into your mouth for you to suck it off of him. You mindlessly do it, focusing more on what his fingers are doing to your clit.

“Keep going, please.” You beg him, hands gripping at his biceps and rolling your hips against his fingers. He coos at you, slipping his thumb from your mouth and wanting nothing more than to feel you around him.

“No.” He chuckles, pulling his fingers away and allowing you to feel that tingling loss of sensation. “M’gonna fuck you. If you’re going to cum, it’s going to be around my cock.” He explains, pulling himself back and allowing you to fall flat against your bed again. “Gonna let me?” He asks, hanging his head again and looking at you through dark eyes as he slips his sweat pants off and reveals his heavy and neglected cock to you. “You’re going to cum on me, and you’re going to let me feel it.”

You nod, only because your body feels like it’s gravitating toward that exact scenario, and seeing the sheer size of him was enough to want it so deep inside of you that you can’t feel anything other than it driving into you again and again.

“Good.” He soothes you, rubbing a thumb on your thigh as he shimmies back between your legs with his cock in hand. He doesn’t say anything else and instead, he trains his eyes on your face as he strokes himself a few times.

When he aligns himself with your folds and slips it between them all you can do is anticipate the stretch. Anticipation doesn’t last though, because he makes haste to slowly slip into you with a lazy type of thrust. It drags against your walls so slowly that you shiver at the feeling, knowing you still haven’t taken all of him yet with each second it takes. Even when he bottoms out, he presses himself further against you, stuffing his cock further between your walls with impossible reach.

“So tight for me–” He soothes, now resting a hand against your long neglected breast and pinching against your nipple there. “Feels so good–” He chokes out this time, still attempting to press himself into you as deeply as he can go.

Your walls clench desperately around him, constantly squeezing his cock in a way that, to him at least, feels as if you could milk him dry by cock warming alone with the way your strong walls caress him, but for now, he’s going to fuck you.

And that he does when he begins to move his hips. The slow pace is quick to escalate into a driving force where he pounds into you with such aggression that moans are forced from your throat with each slap of skin.

All you can do is grip onto him, throwing one leg around his waist and bracing yourself with a hug around his upper torso. He allows himself to fall down against you at the hug, hips still snapping into you in a desperate attempt to relish in his own pleasure rather than yours.

You can tell, kind of, how badly he must have wanted this too in the way he lets out choked sobs against your neck. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so desperate, and his actions match the sounds in the way they both feel and sound so fucking shameless. The wet sounds of his cock being pounded in and out of you alone was enough for anyone to understand how badly the two of you wanted each other.

When Mark snakes his arms under you, grabbing you in the same type of hug you have him in, you can hear his sobs turn to grunts, which then turn to growls as his hips fall into a lack of rhythm. He starts to rumble out low compliments to you, ones that you know are only for you.

“You feel so good,” He rumbles first, the slap of skin almost drowning it out. “Better than I could have ever imagined.” He adds to it with a slightly louder growl. And you keep feeling his teeth dragging against your neck and his hands gripping against your waist tighter, you start to answer him when he speaks again. “You could have me wrapped around your finger with a pussy this good–” he compliments in a filthy tone, not at all expecting a response through the silence you’d previously offered him.

“Keep fucking me like this and I might take you up on that offer–” You manage to moan out with your own little chuckle. It drives him fucking crazy when you say it, urging him to keep talking, to keep fucking you as good as he knows he can.

“Yeah? You want me to stretch you out like this again?” He smiles this time as he bites against your skin, intentionally snapping his hips in a hard and deliberate way. “And again?” He adds, slamming his hips in the same manner, granting him a yelp from you and a string of “yes’s” and “please, fuck’s”

That was all he needed to hear. He’s happy you agree, because he will wholly wrap himself around your finger on his own accord if you so much as suggested it during a moment of non-horny thoughts.

“You want to cum on me, and only me.” He says it like it’s the truth, and part of you feels like it definitely could be a truth. You weren’t lying when you suggested taking him up on the offer, because never did you imagine he could feel this good inside of you. Your self-fuck sessions didn’t even come close to this.

Just like that, silence falls into the room outside of the frantic sound of his cock fucking in and out of you at a solid, now, consistent pace. His groans get louder and louder as he continues, biting and nipping at the skin of your neck just to feel the pulse against his lips each time.

You can barely moan out now, holding your breath and letting out silent screams for him as he presses his pelvis directly against your clit, repeatedly, as he fucks you. You can feel him press you up by your waist in his embrace as he envelopes you whole with his body, forcing your clit to rub even more harshly against him.

“I’m-”’

“Yeah, you are.” He confirms for you, slowing his hips and lifting his head up to kiss you if you’d let him. And you do.

He can feel your orgasm around his cock, and you did just as he said you would. He can feel the new wave of your slick seep around his cock and out of you, dripping down his balls and offering a new sense of slide if he were to move again. He moans, feeling your muscles clench around him as you begin to shiver in his grasp.

Pulling his head back, he watches your face and the way you struggle to keep your eyes open to look at him. He hums through it, holding himself back from his own climax just to watch you fuck him through your own. Mark isn’t sure if you notice, but when you’re coming, you drive your hips back and forth and practically ride whatever cock is in you regardless of the position. It’s fucking hot. Entirely too sexy for him to ignore.

When you are finally stilled beneath him and a small smile forms on your gasping lips, his releases his arms from around you and places them on either side of your head. He looks at you and only you when he starts to fuck into you again at the same aggressive pace as before, this time in an attempt to chase his own high.

You blink up at him with a crooked smile, mind-clearing now that you’re out of the haze of an orgasm, you croak out to him.

“Look at you–” You try to mimic his talk from before. “Fucking me like you mean it.”

His eyes roll back at your words, and you can hear a little “fuck” leave his lips as he stutters his hips inside of you. The slide is so easy for him to fuck into you in whatever way he pleases.

“I do mean it.” He growls out slightly, biting his lip in concentration as he throws his head up just to get a small break from how fucking hot you look under him right now. “Where do you want it?” He asks, the break from seeing you offering no relief as he simply drops his head again and opts to watch the way he buries his cock inside of your fucked out pussy.

“In me.” You smile innocently, blinking at him though he isn’t looking at your face right now.

You don’t need to see his reaction to it though, because you can feel and hear it. His hands go from the bed on either side of your head and instantly shoot to your legs, unhooking one of them from around his waist and instead, hooking it over his shoulder as he focuses harder on the way your pussy squelches with each press of his hips. He holds your leg there, turning his face only for a moment to kiss your calf before dropping his eyes back down to see you being fucked more clearly, paired with the fact that he’s finally the one doing it.

“You want me to cum in you?” He tries to ask through labored breathing, rolling his eyes back again awaiting how your voice will sound when you answer.

“Mhm,” You hum out, starting to work your hips against his. “Let me feel it,”

“Shit.” He breathes, shooting his hand to your chest and kneading against your nipples as he presses his release as far into you as he can.

His hips are still when he does it, and you make it a point to clench as best as you can to continue the stimulation on his emptying cock. You can feel the cum shooting inside of you, filling you impossibly more as he moans out strings of how much he’s giving to you right now.

And when he slumps against you, cock twitching as he releases the last bit of his load into you, all he can do is take in a deep breath and then chuckle.

“Told you.” He laughs breathlessly.

“Told me what, exactly?” You question, skewing your head a bit to look down at him now, with his face nuzzled between both of your breasts.

“That you wanted to fuck me.”

You roll your eyes, wiggling under him to get him to pull out. The mess is going to be embarrassing but fuck, it was worth it.

“You act like you didn’t want it to. You jerked off to seeing me change into pajamas last time.”

He chuckles again with labored breaths, feeling no embarrassment considering that very situation was ammunition to make you wet for him.

“And you fucked yourself while letting me watch, so who wanted it more then?”

There’s a comfortable silence when he pulls out of you, cooing at how dirty and wet your sheets were. His cock was sensitive, but god, he felt so fucked out that he couldn’t bare to focus on how painful it was to even imagine putting his pants back on.

“I think you wanted it more.” He answers for you. “Then again, admittedly, im only here for the weekend because I wanted to see you.”

Your brows raise at that as you watch him stand to his feet and look for his pants.

“And now I've seen you. I’m gonna go to bed now, bye sweetheart.” He jokes, grabbing his pants and walking straight to your door, waiting for you to protest. When you don’t, he turns from the door and looks at you confused.

“Not even gonna fight to keep me here, are you?”

You smile, shaking your head at him. “Why would I need to fight? You’re clearly not leaving my room.”

He shrugs, dropping his pants back to the floor and making his way back over to you. “Then are you going to go get some towels or something? This entire room is a slipping hazard.”

All you can do is slap him in that moment, playfully of course.

“Oh, you’re slapping too? Nice.” He laughs back, and honestly, you don’t remember a single moment you’ve had with Mark where he doesn’t shut the fuck up. Then again, you wonder if that’s part of the reason he got a rise out of you.

He knew how to talk to you, and you’d let him talk for hours if he wanted to.

#mark smut #mark lee smut #nct smut #neohub #mark lee fic #nct dream smut #nct dream fic

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prince-liest · 15 days

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I am literally checking your blog daily how the backflipping DUCK did I miss the recent snippet!?!?

It is genius. Bestest thing in the entire universe. I am filled with admiration for your skills. If I were home, I would be screaming into a pillow.

Just how do you make snippets this good?!?? Hahah♡ /pos

Backflipping duck got me, HAHA, thank you for that. Honestly, this entire chapter has been sitting solidly in "there's a lot of emotional fallout here from the previous installments of this series, and it is making me very paranoid about pulling both of them out of character," so I'm really glad people are enjoying the bits of WIP that I've been posting! Now that I've made it through a night out followed by an all-day party, I can sit, relax, and edit the shit out of it prior to posting so that I feel solid about it, hahaha. Anyway, thank you so much! <3 These kind messages have been fueling me amidst all the chaos, ehehe.

More replies specifically on the snippet under the cut! <3

okay I'm DYING over that snippet, alastor is going through a crisis not feeling comfortable with what they've been doing any longer and trying to figure out how to express that and one of the first things vox says when he breaches the topic is "I'm gonna dress up valentino as you and fantasize about fucking you anyway" like buddy!! all horny no brain asdfg they're both killing me omg - ✨

Vox was allowed like two seconds of healthy, genuine communication prior to the snippet I posted before I was like, "Hm, one sec, gotta remind everyone who he is," hahaha. He was, to be fair, mostly trying to be glib in that moment in a way that just didn't land.

Vox says "well it doesn't have to be literally you if you don't want" and Alastor hears "I've objectified the idea of you to such an extent that I'm going to go to such length to still realize my desire to fuck you" and oof.

Hi, anon who loves your writing snippets here 👋 Reaction summarized: “The Emotions They destroyed their cage Yes YES The Emotions are out” In other words: I am ready to be utterly obliterated. Hit me with the emotional weightlifting these two idiots are about to do. I’m rubbing my hands vigorously like a little creacher, a raccoon or common housefly, perhaps. On another note, so happy you’re getting off to a good start in your residency! As someone who’s been below the poverty line for most of their life, I know how thrilling it can be to look at future housing prospects. There’s nothing I love more than decorating a new space to make it feel like home :). I hope for the best for you these upcoming months!

Ehehehe, what a GREAT use of that poem. >:D The emotions really have finallly destroyed their cage. Time to face the music!!

And ahhh, thank you! Yeah, I've moved around a lot throughout my life (including switching houses weekly between my parents most of my life) and I feel like one of the ways I adapted to it was just being very gung-ho about decorating and home-ifying a place I'm staying, so I'm so excited to finally have a space that is All Mine To Do With As I Please without being concerned about roommates, etc, etc. And it won't be permanent, but I'll be there three years, and that's a decently long time!!

#ask #personal #aska234 #sparkle anon #anonymous #thank you guys all! :D <3 #was lovely to look through these between busy moments the past day and a half or so #hazbin hotel #(also to be clear I enjoyed myself immensely it was just A Lot esp as one of two primary organizers)#t

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fizzing-imagines · 10 months

Text

Playtime Pt. 1 | Daycare Teacher! Billy Hargrove x Reader

Notes: This, too, has been living in my head rent-free

Warnings: Alcohol consumtion, pregnancy

Words: 2k

Your best friend and roommate Jenny called in a panic, asking you if you could pick up her 1-year old daughter, your godchild, from her daycare as she started running a fever unexpectedly. She put you down as an emergency contact at her daycare, and she was so caught-up at work that her boss wouldn't let her leave. Of course you agreed, you loved your godchild and treated her as your own. So you got into your car and drove down to said daycare. Once you arrived, you saw the photowall with the employees pictures at the entrance as a new face struck out to you. A handsome, young guy named William Hargrove. You greeted the known faces of the other attendants as you quickly made your way into her toddler room.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up Ari.", you said to the new employee, William, as you entered. "Are you her godmother?", he asked you. "I'll have to ID you because I've never been here for you to pick her up." You gave him an understanding nodd before fishing your wallet out of your bag. Once found, you showed him your ID to which he turned around and got Ari from the book corner. Her face was flushed red and her eyes were watery. "(Y/N).", she mumbled as she reached out her arms to get to you. Happily, you carried her on your arms to make her feel better. "Can I ask you a question?", you asked William in a worried tone. "Sure, any time.", he said with a smile. "I've never took care of a sick toddler, and her mum works for three more hours. What do I do now?" You were at a loss, Jenny always knew what to do. This was a first, for both you and Ari. "Well, I don't have any kids of my own so I can't really recommend anything. Other parents here use Calpol though." You nodded your head while mumbling "Calpol, okay." to help yourself remember. "And cold compresses on the legs and neck if her fever gets higher." You nodded once again. "But it's best if you try and go to the doctor with her, they can tell you much more than I can." He smiled at you as you nodded for the third time. "Thank you so much, and thank you for looking after her.", you said while smiling back at him. "It's not a big deal. Just remember that we have a 48-hour rule of being free of symptoms until she can return to daycare." You were happy that he told you, because you wouldn't have known any of that. "Thank you very much, William.", you said with a smile. "Just call me Billy."

Ari stayed home with you for the entire week as you were on a two-week holiday for your mental health. It helped you a lot, actually, as you had a hard time getting up and doing anything for yourself. So taking care of a tiny human, feeding her, putting her to bed, bathing her, it helped you with doing something good for yourself. So good that, when Jenny was home for the weekend, you decided to go out partying with two friends from high school on a Sunday night. You picked out a beautiful dress, did your makeup, styled your hair and you haven't felt this good about yourself in weeks. After months of low confidence, it shot through the roof just like that.

The club was loud and smelly. People were chatting, dancing, making out in some corner and most of all, drinking alcohol like it was water. Your friends made it their goal for the night as well and made a bee-line to the bar with you. They ordered three shots of tequila, followed by a mojito and a vodka-soda. As you felt the alcohol kicking in, you felt like dancing and made them go on the dance floor with you. You gave it your all, dancing with anyone who was willing to get close to you. And you had such a fun time, being carefree and wild for just one night until you bumped into someone you knew while looking for your next dance partner. "Billy?", you yelled over the loud music. He looked at you, trying to match your face with someone you knew, and he remembered eventually. "(Y/N)!", he said with a grin. "Nice seeing you here!" Billy was clearly intoxicated, and completely different than from who you saw at the daycare. Well, teachers have a private life so you shouldn't be too surprised. But you did end up being surprised when he put an arm around your shoulder and led you to the bar. "Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing.", he said with a flirtatious smirk. You blushed at his words, wondering how one 10-minute impression could get him to talk like that. "S-sure.", you replied, a bit flustered. Billy bought you a Rum-Cola with another shot of Tequila. Your already-buzzed brain did the math and concluded that you'd be piss-drunk in about an hour. "You know, you have to look each other in the eyes when you toast.", he said to you while taking the shot in his hands. "Why?", you asked him. "Because if you don't, you'll have bad sex for the next 7 years." His statement surprised you so much that you couldn't even look away from his eyes, so he took his opportunity to toast with a wink. Oh, so that's the road he chose?

Did you end up back at his apartment? Absolutely. Both of you got drunk as shit and slept together. But you did leave his place when you woke up at 2am and realized what you've done. One check on your Nokia 3110 showed you that you've abandoned your friends at the club with no warning; you had 7 missed calls from them and 3 missed calls from Jenny. "Shit.", you mumbled under your breath as you wriggled out of Billy's arms that were wrapped around your waist. Quickly, you got dressed, called a Taxi and drove back to your apartment. Once you entered, you saw dim light in the living room and stumbled inside, still slightly intoxicated, to find Jenny on the couch. She was trying to keep herself occupied, but you could see her nervousness because she chewed on the nail of her index finger. "Jenny.", you whispered while clumsily taking your shoes off. "Jesus Christ (Y/N)", she whispered back while getting up from the couch. "You've had me worried sick, where were you?". Oh shit. Now you'll have to tell her. "I was...uhm...at a guys house.", you stuttered, still whispering. "Seriously? What, isn't that good? When have you last done that?" She had a wide smile on her face, the initial anxiety and anger washed away in an instant. "Not really.", you whispered in an anxious tone. "It was...it was William, Ari's teacher." Jennys eyes went wide in shock. "He was at the club, and we got drunk so..." She didn't say anything for a while. "Well, you sleep it off and we'll talk about it tomorrow, yeah?" That wasn't really what you were looking fir as an answer. "I'm not angry. I'm just surprised." Now that actually calmed you, but you understood that she needed to cope with what you told her just now.The two of you went to bed, and you didn't wake up until 1pm. The apartment was empty by then, and as soon as you woke up you had to make a bee-line to the bathroom to throw up. Your guts hurt like a bitch, your throat burnined and your head was pounding. Jenny, being the sweet soul that she is, already put out ibuprofen and a glass of water on the small table you had in the bathroom. You were so lucky to have her. In hopes of relief, you took the ibuprofen and went back to bed. Your phone woke you up two hours later with Jenny calling. "What's up?", you grumbled into the speaker. "Good morning.", she said in a cheerful voice. "I have to work overtime today, can you pick up Ari?" A cold shiver ran down your spine. "With Billy there? I doubt it.", you replied in a hoarse voice. Why did your throat hurt so bad? There must have been more than just throwing up...oh. "He went partying yesterday, I doubt he'll wanna work while hungover. He wasn't in this morning, so he most likely has a day off." Jenny was right, and you knew it. "Fine, I'll be the lesbian adoptive mom.", you replied while getting out of bed. "Thank you honey, love you.", Jenny said before handing up. Slowly, you got dressed, put on sunglasses and started driving to Aris daycare. Your brain fully convinced you that Billy wouldn't be there, because who in the world would be such a jackass, so you took it easy as you walked in. Well, both you and Jenny were horribly wrong. Ari was standing behind Billy, who sat on a tiny chair, while putting bows and clips in his mullet. Both were all alone in the room, all kids being picked uo already and the other two teachers outside cleaning up. Did Billy look pleased? Not really, but he didn't look hungover either. Your goddaughter saw you as soon as you closed the door behind. "(Y/N)!", she cheered as she took you by the hand to lead you to Billy. "Pwetty.", she added with a proud smile. "Oh yes, Ari, you made Billy really pretty.", you agreed and undermined your statement with a nod. She then pointed at you with a questioning look. "You can do my hair at home, yeah?" She smiled and nodded in agreement before you picked her up and carried her back to the door. "Can you say bye bye?", you asked Ari. She waved her tiny hand at Billy with a grin on her face. "See you tomorrow, Ari.", Billy said with a wave back.

Weeks passed, you haven't picked up Ari in since the first incident. Once you told Jenny, she started asking Aris godfather to do pickups. Her baby daddy was a no-good leech, and her parents didn't support her so it was just you, Jenny and the godfather. And you thought that it was ideal, but that ideal was broken by a tiny plastic stick with two blue lines on it. "Fuck...", you mumbled. It was all you could say. Jenny was at home, taking a quick shower before wanting to pick up Ari from daycare. "What does it say?", she asked you while peaking out of the shower. "I'm pregnant...", you mumbled. It felt so real now that you've said it. "And you're sure it's Billy's?", she continued. "I haven't had sex with anyone else in the past six months.", you told her while pulling your legs into a criss-cross position. The two of you were having a deja-vu, as this was the exact same way Jenny found out she was gonna have Ari. Just with a different father. "So, I'll give him your number when I pick up Ari and we'll go from there. At least he has a stable job.", Jenny said while washing out her conditioner. "You're way too calm, Jen.", you said. "I just told you I'm pregnant, you're taking this easy." You could hear her chuckle. "Well, if he's a dick as well we'll just be a four-people household."

But Billy did call you and asked to talk with you face-to-face. While Jenny didn't tell him what exactly happened, she did tell him that it was important. Billy already had his suspicions at those words, but he didn't know how to feel about them. His mind was reeling as he drove over to your place to pick you up, and you were waiting on the sidewalk with the test in hand. He parked at the nearest parking spot and waited for you to enter. Once you sat down next to him, you silently handed him the test. "Well, fuck.", he mumbled as he looked at the two blue lines.

"Yeah, that's kinda how that happened."

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years

Text

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 ⪼ 𝐌𝐘𝐆

⤜WORD COUNT: 6.1K

⤜PAIRING: Yoongi X Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: enemies to lovers, bad girl x good guy, ex-friends to lovers, angst,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2022

⤜MASTERLIST

A/N: Tries something different, dont tend to see Yn as the “bad girl” and the member as the “good guy” so I wanted to try it out

The rain was slashing it down outside of the window and you took in a breath before sliding out of the bed you were in. Tonight it seemed that sleep would be eveading you and you weren't going to be getting any sleep here tonight. You hated not being able to sleep when you weren't in your own bed, it was the worst part about being away from home.

"Where are you going?" The roommate beside you asked as she let out a small and tired mumble, you stared down at her and it seemed as though she was too tired to move or question you further so you just lied to her.

"To get some water," You lied, reaching down for your bag and heading out of the room without another word from your roomie. Lying was much easier than explaining that you were going to go and study in secret while everyone else slept.

You hated this. You could have been at home sleeping soundly and studying in the comfort of your own home but no, you had to come here.

A major football game was happening between your college and another which meant - as a cheerleader- you had to go along with the team.

Sitting yourself down at a table you began to riffle through your backpack for more contact lenses, you were sure you'd packed more than three pairs.

"Stupid, mother-" You hissed out. How could you have been so stupid as to forget the one thing you needed most on this trip? It seemed as though you'd only packed enough contact lenses to get you through the trip there, trip back and the day of the football game which meant you were fucked. There was no way you were going to be able to sit down and study without some kind of way of seeing.

"Fucking idiot," You hissed before sitting down against a chair and staring around, just to see if there was any sign that anyone else in this entire place was awake. But it was deadly quiet.

It was almost 2 in the morning and you doubted that many people would be up any time soon...Maybe it wouldn't hurt to wear the emergency glasses that were stashed away in the bottom of the bag. It wasn't as though someone would come downstairs and if they happened to you were almost sure you would hear them.

Taking out the box you stared down at them. They were barely used unless you were studying at home or walking around the house and you'd not worn them since leaving High school. There was still a bit of tape on one of the legs from when an old friend had broken them and tried to repair them.

When you'd left high school you'd sworn to yourself you'd never wear them in public again in fear of being labelled the "goody-two-shoes nerd" all over again. It had taken you years to get away from your "nerdy" persona in high school and you'd sworn to yourself that college was going to be different. You weren't going to let people see the nerd you were in high school and so far it had worked.

You'd built your reputation up to be a popular cheerleader who was surrounded by tons of friends, people you wouldn't be caught dead with on a weekend if you could help it. Of course, you went to the occasional party to keep up appearances but other than that you made up excuses as to why you couldn't hang out,

"I'm visiting family," "I'm having an old friend over," and "I'm spending time with my mum," Every excuse you could think of was being used so you wouldn't have to be surrounded by airheads all weekend long. Instead, you'd stay home and prepare yourself for exams or do any homework that you had due.

Tonight however, you were going to be cramming for the exam that was being held next week. You were determined to pass it with flying colours if it meant you got to go on and do your bachelor's degree.

Yoongi patted down the stairs of the Log cabin - which was more of a mansion than a cabin since there were over 20 rooms inside of the place. The thunderstorm had stopped him from falling asleep...Or rather, that was what he had convinced himself off but in reality he just couldn't sleep. The whole concert was starting to bug him out and he was worrying that he wouldn't get his solo right and fuck everything up for the college.

Not only would he be letting the college down but he would be performing in front of thousands of people tomorrow, he needed to have a clear mind if he was going to be able to do it right.

Of course, it wasn't just him there were all of the other people in the college band as well as the cheerleaders that were going to be performing. Not that he was particularly looking forward to that since it meant he was going to have to watch you. You and your stupid preppy friends are all giggling and being cute all of the time and it was disgusting. Wait...Did he think you were cute?

Not cute.

Annoying. Evil. The she-devil.

God, he hated you. Not just in the "I hate you because I secretly have a crush on you" way either. No, he hated you with every fibre of his being. The mere thought of you made all of the hairs on his body stand up and the idea of being anywhere near you made his skin crawl and his stomach churn. It was always the stupid little comments that would come from you and your friends, the way that you would spit out mean comments at him. Or the fact that one time you'd seen him getting beat up and didn't do a single thing about it.

Once upon a time the two of you had been friends, both of you were huge nerds in high school and in the school band but times had changed and so had you. For the worst that was.

He stopped when he reached the bottom of the stairs and stared over at one of the tables that were in the kitchen. As fate would have it there you were and yet he didn't feel his blood boiling the way that it usually would.

No. You were just sitting there, your eyes fixed down on something on the table with glasses on your face and the sight alone made his spine tingle.

Glasses on your face.

Fuck, he hadn't seen them on you since the last time you were in high school together. As he moved closer he could still see the ghost washi-tape he had used to fix one of the legs that he'd broken. He'd sat on them by accident one day after he'd been shoved into his chair while defending you from a bully.

"Look what the cat dragged in," He smirked, sitting down on the opposite side of the table and staring at you. If you weren't alone he wouldn't have bothered coming over but when you were completely alone and looking like your old self, you felt less intimidating to speak to.

"Don't talk to me, someone might think we're friends." You snapped bitterly before staring at him and remembering that no one was around. It wouldn't be too bad if you spoke to him now, it wasn't as though anyone was going to see and put two and two together that the two of you had once been best friends. You stared back down at the papers in front of you, sighing as you glasses began to slide down your nose it was the only problem with them and one of the reasons you'd switched to contacts in the first place.

"I forgot my contacts," You grumbled at him, staring up at him and pushing the glasses up your face as he let out a small smile which he quickly hid from your view. It was rather cute that you always had to push your glasses up your nose,

"I don't remember asking," Yoongi mumbled while drinking in your appearance. He'd been wondering about why you never wore them anymore but he was never going to ask you about it outloud. He had no reason to.

It wasn't any of his business about what you did and didn't do anymore but it was warming to see you wearing them after all of this time. It was nice to see the real you actually. To see you studying so openly and happily since it had always been something you liked to do.

"I don't remember caring for your opinion," Silence filled the air and you went back to studying from the book, Yoongi read it upside down and narrowed his eyes at the book. He didn't know you were taking that class and he very much doubted any of your friends knew either since they'd probably all laugh at you for it.

"What are you doing up so late anyway?" He questioned, leaning on the table to try and read some of the notes you had written in the pages of the book. It was just like you to have little notes scribbled in pink ink to remind you if you needed to work extra on a certain part or not. It was the same thing for Yoongi but he would do it in green.

"I couldn't sleep in that bedroom," You admitted before highlighting a section in the book and writing it down on a pad in front of you.

"You mean you couldn't sleep in that bed." Yoongi mumbled before you stared up at him, you hated the fact that he knew that about you. It had been something you'd told him in confidence years ago.

"Don't act as if you know me." You ordered before he smirked. It was clear that he was getting under your skin and he loved it. It wasn't often that he got to do this and he was going to relish the moment for as long as he could.

"We both know I know you better than yourself," You rolled your eyes at the statement. He knew the old you, he knew nothing about the new you and he had no chance of getting to know you either.

"You don't know anything." You grumbled, staring down at the book and trying to concentrate again but it was hard when he was staring at you.

It would be a lie if you said he wasn't attractive but Yoongi had always been considered attractive to you. Even in high school when he was too skinny and wore clothes that didn't suit him.

But now, he was almost a man and dressed in a style that suited him perfectly. He was also built really well and had a jawline that looked as though it was carved by Michelangelo himself. Not that you would ever tell him that.

"So I don't know that you can't sleep anywhere without that stupid little blue blanket you had as a baby...That's so filled with holes it's more of a piece of fabric than a blanket." He told you before you stared back at him, staying completely silent and still as a smirk planted itself on his face.

"Or that you couldn't sleep in the same room as anyone," He leant closer to you from across the table and your heart began to pick up in speed.

"Anyone that is except for me that is," You slammed your highlighter down on the table, completely surprised it hadn't just popped and spurted ink all over the place. You didn't particularly want to sit here and reminisce on all of the old things the two of you used to do together,

It was all in the past.

Just because the two of you used to be inseparable didn't mean he knew everything about you anymore. Time has passed and people change.

"What do you want Yoongi?" You grumbled, running your hands over your face as you tried to get him to leave you as soon as possible but Yoongi didn't want to.

Seeing you like this just reminded him of all of the old times you would hang out together when neither of you could sleep. Sneaking out to the old treehouse where the two of you would study together until you eventually fell asleep resting on the other.

"I can't sleep." He shrugged his shoulders, sliding your book in front of him and reading through the notes you had been leaving for yourself but you didn't protest. You just accept it, it felt kind of nice to speak to someone that wasn't asking you about makeup or if they should dye their hair.

"You never can," You mumbled, just watching him closely until he slid the book back to you and you continued on with your studying.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence and you worked through the book while Yoongi just watched you. He missed this, just sitting with you without you being rude or mean to him about anything and just being able to watch you. He used to do this whenever you would study together, just watch you for hours. Completely fascinated by your way of studying for exams.

"I missed this old you." He suddenly said without thinking, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a mess of words. You didn't look up at him but your whole body tensed up at the idea of being the "old you" you never wanted to go back to that again.

"Shut up. There is no old me," You grumbled before Yoongi smirked to himself. It was clear you had done everything you could to change every piece of you from the past but you were still there.

Yoongi could still see the real you shine through everything that you did, it was just that everyone else around you was too blind - or too dumb - to see it. It happened a lot in the way that you could laugh at something. Suddenly snorting in the middle of laughter but covering it up with a cough as you tried to play it as though nothing had happened.

"I see I hit a nerve." He chuckled out before you stared up at him, your eyes meeting his as you stared back at him. It was wrong to snap at him but he didn't need to do this. He didn't need to bring up the past when you'd worked so hard in life to hide it.

"Seriously, what do you want?" You asked bitterly this time, you were too tired and too stressed to go through all of this right now.

"I told you, I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to bother me?" You questioned, pointing around before telling him,

"There are so many other places you could have gone but you wanted to sit here?" But Yoongi just stared back at you and shrugged his shoulders without a care in the world.

"No, I decided that I wanted to sit down here. It's a free country," You stared back at him and rolled your eyes at him, of course, he was going to act this way.

"You decided that instead of ignoring me like you usually did you wanted to be fucking annoying," The usual snapping of your words didn't hurt him this time since you were surrounded by a gaggle of girls all laughing and pointing at him,.

"You're less threatening when you're not in front of the crowds of cheerleaders and jocks." You smirked a little before wiping it away and shaking your head at him,

"And you're more annoying when you're not with the dumb band," The two of you stared at one another in silence before he let out a small sigh.

"Look...I'm sorry...Truce?" He held out his hand for you to take and you stared at it, debating for a second on whether or not to take it but you did and shook it.

"Truce." You whispered, looking at the book and back up to him, both of you smiling at one another.

"I've missed you too by the way." You admitted before going back to studying and pretending you hadn't said a word to him.

After a while of studying, the two of you were finally getting back into your old swing, both of you bantering back and forth with one another without another care in the world. You were sitting on the same side of the table, talking about all of the old times you used to have together,

"I'm telling you, you should see Holly now. He can roll over and play dead," You giggled at the mention of his dog, you missed him more than anything in the world.

"I miss him, I always used to sneak treats around so he would like me more than you." You admitted while laughing. You'd been there when Yoongi had adopted Holly and it had been one of the happiest moments in his life.

"He probably still likes you more than me," Yoongi laughed before throwing some popcorn into his mouth as you shook your head, there was no way he did. Holly hadn't seen you in so long, you had doubts he remembered you and if he did he hated you for never coming back.

"Nah, I haven't been around in what...Four years? He probably hates me just as much as you do." You laughed softly but Yoongi just stared at you, maybe he did hate you for what you portrayed yourself to be but right now...You were being yourself, the real you. Not the mask you put on for everyone else." You swallowed the lump in your throat but your entire throat was dry at the sudden confession coming from him.

"I don't hate you. I hate what you've become." The two of you stared at one another in silence, suddenly you slowly realised how close you were to his face.

"What?" You questioned suddenly, wondering what he could have meant by that.

"You paint yourself to be this mean and dumb cheerleader but we both know you're smarter than all of them put together," That was true. You'd seen some of their grades and you had to wonder how any of them were still in college when they were averaging F's and D's all of the time.

"Yoongi..." You trialled off slowly, you didn't know where this was going to go but you didn't want him to be mean to those you considered "friends."

"I mean it. I don't understand why you hide who you were." You stared at him and shook your head,

"Because she was an idiot, she was bullied and she was ugly," You told him simply but Yoongi stopped you as he put his hand on top of yours. There was no way he was going to let you talk down about yourself like this.

"You could never be ugly," He whispered to you, your heart was practically ready to hand itself over to Yoongi and you hated it. You'd worked so hard to stop the crush you'd had on him for years and now all of a sudden it was coming back.

"Please, I didn't have lines of people asking me out back then, I do now. Which proves I was ugly back then." You tried to pull your hand away from Yoongi but he tightened his hold on you.

"Because people didn't want to look past the glasses and the nerdy things you'd do. They didn't see that you were in fact beautiful and kind...Funny...Perfect with everything that you did. Fuck, you looked more beautiful than anyone in our school." Yoongi said,

"What?" Your eyes locked onto his, tears beginning to build up in your eyes as you heard all of this coming from him.

"I mean it! No one could hold a candle to your beauty and no one ever will. Shit, Yn! How do you not see it? I had the biggest crush on you in the world and you never once-" He stopped when you kissed him.

You were kissing him...Actually kissing him. His lips were touching yours and yet he was standing still like a wall with his eyes open. Fuck...He'd forgotten how to kiss...How to breathe.

Humming softly he sighed and wrapped his arms around you tightly, bringing you closer to him as your lips began to move in time with one another.

His hands moved to your waist to steady you a little, the kiss was making your heart pound against your chest and there was a warm feeling settling inside of your stomach. Yoongi smiled against your lips a little as he pulled you closer to him, your thighs touching his as you tried to make out on the uncomfortable seat. You tried to move closer, moving the table a little until a glass fell onto the floor but neither of you stopped the intense make-out session you were having. It was far too much to stop, with his lips on yours, you felt complete.

Everything he had said to you had made you so warm inside you could hardly believe that he'd had a crush on you in school when it had been you with the crush on him back then.

"I heard something and Yn is missing! What if she got murdered!" You heard someone scream dramatically before you darted away from Yoongi, Jennifer's voice was hard to miss.

"Glasses," He whispered to you as you quickly pulled them off and he put them onto his face, squinting a little as he tried to adjust to how awful your eyesight truly was. Then you looked at him and up at the stairs, it was only going to cause more trouble if they saw you together and they'd start on him which was the last thing you wanted.

"How can you even see with these?" He grunted before you hid under the table, sitting between his legs as he looked down at the book, pretending that he had been alone.

"It's just Yoongi. Hey, have you seen Yn?" You heard Chris ask, one of the jocks that had the big game tomorrow. He should have been sleeping if it meant he was going to play well. Yoongi glanced over at him - or what he thought was him. It was kind of hard when your glasses made him see double of everything.

"No. Why? Did you lose her?" He smirked trying to play into a confident persona. Yoongi wasn't exactly a shy type, in fact, he acted like most jocks but because he wasn't on a sports team it was always seen as him being sarcastic and cocky in a bad way.

"I told you, she probably went for a walk. Especially if she saw her stalker here," Chris mumbled which made you frown at the mention of it. Stalker?

"Stalker?" Yoongi quizzed, freezing a little when he felt you place your hand on his thigh as a silent sign of encouragement that it was okay.

"Yeah, you're always following her around like a fucking creep. Not to mention I've seen you looking at her during our routines," Jennifer quipped before giggling loudly. God, it was like nails on a chalkboard.

"You have a crush on her or something?" Chris asked but Yoongi didn't say anything to him, he just mumbled under his breath,

"Something like that," Butterflies set off inside of your stomach and you gently squeezed his thigh to send a sign that you reciprocated his feelings.

"We should go back to bed, I'm sure Yn, will show up," Chris said as you heard him slowly going up the stairs again, the creaking of the steps letting you know that you could almost come out from the table. You slipped a little and your slippers slid out from under the table and into full view of Jennifer.

"Weird." Your friend said and you completely froze in place, a little scared she had seen you cuddling into Yoongi's legs and holding onto him for dear life.

"Yn has a pair of slippers just like those," She said before pointing to your slippers that were by the table. Yoongi stared down at them and back up at Jennifer, it was clear that you didn't want her to know you were under the table.

"Maybe she left them when she went for a walk. Can we go to sleep now? If she's not in your shared room it means we can bang." Chris said before your "friend" ran off without a single second thought about you making you groan. There was no way on this planet that you were going to go back to that room tonight or any time soon.

Yoongi held out his hand for you to take while you crawled out from under the table and stared up at him. You didn't know if you were supposed to bring up the crushing comment but you sure as hell weren't going to let it go anytime soon.

"So you have a crush on me?" You smirked before he rolled his eyes at you, your hands linking with one another. Yoongi squeezed your hand a little as he grinned,

"Not the fake you...The real you," He declared before you leant forward to give him another kiss. Both of you failing to notice that you weren't actually alone.

The next morning when Yoongi walked down the stairs he saw a group of people all standing around in the living area of the cabin. Everyone was screaming and cheering about something and he frowned wondering what everyone could have been talking about so early in the morning.

"You have to tell us what it was like! I bet it was like kissing a brick wall!" Someone screamed before everyone else began to join in, everyone adding comments about gross kisses. Yoongi stepped closer to his friends who gave him a sympathetic smile,

"Guys!" You hissed out and Yoongi froze as he heard you coming from the centre of the group of people, what were you doing? Had you decided to just tell everyone about the kiss and laugh about it?

"Did he just grab you and start making out with you? What a fucking creep." Jennifer giggled, your blood was boiling at the thought of her doing this.

"Yoongi the creep!" Someone boomed out before an arm was wrapped around Yoongi shoulder, all eyes were suddenly on him and you were staring at him with widened eyes. This had nothing to do with you, you'd come downstairs to get ready for the cheerleading practice when you heard Jennifer talking to someone about a kiss she'd seen and everything spiralled since. But you knew Yoongi was going to think all of this was because of you,

"Yoongi..." You trialled off as he stared at you, shaking his head as his eyes filled with rage. You'd never seen him this angry, even when you accidentally spilt coke-a-cola all over his Pokémon cards.

"I guess this is a lesson in not trusting people, right? Because some people never change." Yoongi spat at you, you shoved away from Jennifer who was giggling a little. Everyone began to tease Yoongi at the idea of him getting mad at you for something and you drowned them all out. None of them should have been involved in this in the first place.

"Yoongi...Please." You begged, walking over to him and trying to grab his hand but he snatched it away from you and stared down into your eyes.

"What? Are you going to tell me it wasn't you? Please, that excuse is worst thing in the world." He barked at you before you shook your head, tears building up in your eyes as you tried to tell him that this had nothing to do with you.

"Yoongi! Please, don't! I didn't do this! I came down-"

"Actually, no. You know what," He smirked moving closer to you, your heart gave out for a second as you thought that maybe that maybe he would listen to you and believe you hadn't been behind any of this.

"I didn't do this," You argued with him. God, you'd woken up that morning with the intent of this being your last day as a cheerleader. You wanted to go back to studying and even being in band. Yoongi sighed as he ran his hand over your cheek, you relaxed into it a little. His thumb gently ran across your cheekbone and you smiled a little.

"Thank you...I-I know its hard for you to trust me but I didn't do this-" But Yoongi smirked down at you and you hated it. It wasn't a cute and playful smirk but something evil and twisted.

"The worst thing in this world is you." He whispered before pulling away from you leaving you completely alone as people stared at you. All of them were a little shocked to see you begging for Yoongi to take you seriously. Even Jennifer had shut up with her small and immature comments.

"You're so fucking concerned about what everyone will think about you that you put on a mask and pray that no one will see it. You don't want them to know you the truth about you," By now everyone was gathering around to listen to what he was saying, phones were being pulled out to record you both.

"You don't want them to know that you're pathetic loser." You stared back at him, tears running down your cheeks as he smirked back at you. He slowly leant closer until he was able to whisper in your ear.

"I wish we'd never met. It would have saved us both a lot of grief."

Once he was gone people stared over at you looking pretty confused,

"What was he talking about?" Jennifer laughed before coming closer to you. You stared up at her and the idea of pretending to be something you weren't was killing you. All of this was for nothing, after what Yoongi had said to you last time you were ready to give up cheerleading and go back to the "real you".

"Did you know him before college?" Jennifer asked, looking at the door as Yoongi slammed it harshly behind him. Your eyes watched him through the glass as he got into his car,

"Yes." You mumbled,

"Oh...How did you two know each other?" Jennifer's tone was condescending and you knew she was trying to get answers out of you so that she could use them against you in the future.

"Because I was in band with him," You answered plainly, moving out of her arm and shaking your head at her. None of this was worth it anymore.

"Yeah, right." She laughed loudly making everyone join in with her and you scoffed at them all.

"I was. I'm also on top of everyone in our college. I have the highest ranking GPA score and I happen to be taking more classes than the average student because I can't stand to be around any of you." You snapped at her, suddenly having enough of everything going on. None of this was worth the hassle if you didn't have Yoongi around. Yoongi was the one thing that kept you grounded without you even knowing it and he made you realise that you didn't need to be fake to be liked.

"You're all so dumb and pathetic, you think that if you look great and act a certain way life will lay itself out for you but it won't," You laughed dryly before shaking your head at them. The band members were all watching you with giant smiles on their faces and the main drum player was smirking a little as you finally snapped.

"You'll be sitting around looking pretty until a certain age and all you'll be left with is a bunch of dumb trophies and medals." You grabbed your bag from the floor and stormed out of the cabin. You'd brought your own car and you sure as hell weren't going to be staying around any time soon.

The weekend had come and gone with no response from Yoongi, you'd tried calling him, texting him and even shown up at his dorms but there was no response from him. The library on Monday morning was your last resort if you had any chance of finding him.

"Hey Leigh?" You asked as you walked into the library on Monday morning to see her behind the counter, her glasses pushed up on her face and earphones in but she saw you and took one out.

"Any sign of Yoongi?" You'd text her over the weekend to let you know if he'd shown up here but so far no one had heard from him.

"Back room, but you didn't get it from me." She smirked before walking out and putting a do not disturb sign up on the door. She was one of the biggest supporters of you and Yoongi fixing this shit that had happened between you.

The clip of you yelling and screaming at everyone on Friday had gone viral and everyone seemed to be supporting you being yourself and doing whatever you want before you liked it.

"Leigh, I told you I didn't want to be bothered-" Yoongi stopped speaking when he noticed it wasn't the librarian and he didn't move for a couple of seconds. At first, he thought it was some kind of dream that you were standing there but he knew it wasn't because he'd already dreamt of you this morning.

Yet here you were standing in front of him wearing your glasses and clothes that weren't the dumb uniform you always wore. It was a nice change of pace and he looked you up and down,

"Where's your uniform?"

"I don't know, I gave it back on Friday." You mumbled, sitting down at one of the tables as he stared at you. He didn't know if he was supposed to congratulate you on that or give you some kind of snarky remark,

"Gave it back?" He quizzed, standing at the edge of the table and looking down at you. You slowly looked up at him and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I quit."

"You quit? Why?" Yoongi knew why, he'd seen the clips and heard the stories from a lot of the band members.

"Because I decided that being the fake me was no longer working...T-That someone liked me for who I really was." Yoongi bit down on his tongue to try and hide the smirk that was threatening to spread onto his lips.

"Hmm, who? I wouldn't have thought you'd fucked everyone over by now." You hated that he was being like this but you completely understood where it was all coming from, everything he would say to you would be completely justified and you would understand if he never wanted to talk to you again.

"Yoongi please...I didn't do that on Friday! I came down and Jennifier was talking about how she saw someone kiss and I asked who...I was trying to get them to stop." You explained quickly and even though Yoongi knew all of this he wanted to hear you ramble cutely the way that you did,

"I believe you," He said with a small smile.

"I get that you don't trust me but I need you to- Wait, you do?" You stared back at him, hope in your eyes as he nodded down at you and smiled. Of course, he did.

"Yeah...I asked one of the clarinet players after I got back," He sighs a little, maybe ignoring you all weekend was a little bit mean but to him it seemed pretty much payback for everything you'd done over the last few years...That and it gave him a clear space to think about everything.

"So you've been avoiding me all weekend...For nothing?"

"I wanted to torture you just a little....as payback for all of these years." He teased, leaning down so that your faces were almost touching, you pouted up at him.

"I hate you." You lied, a smirk took over his lips as he shook his head at you. The two of you knew that you didn't hate him,

"No, you don't."

"No...I don't." You mumbled as he looked down at you, slowly bending down to kiss you as you let out a happy sigh, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck.

"Now will you help me study? I couldn't do it all weekend because I was too focused on trying to find you," You mumbled before he sat down with you to study, nudging you softly before he pulled you as close as he could to his body.

Tagline: @millenniumspec @chiisaiblog @rjdy-367 @rjsmochii @tinyoonsblog @sw33tnight @taestannie @sstarryoong @cherrybubblesandvodka @army24--7 @acciocriativity @mitzwinchester @heyjiminnie @kimahnjung98 @halesandy @jin-from-the-block @aerastus @namjooningelsewhere @ratherbfangirling @psychosupernatural @afternoonteabiscuit @lyoongx @periandernyx @heeseunger24 @laylasbunbunny @jeonsorchid

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #suga #suga x reader #suga imagine #suga imagines

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duckapus · 4 months

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SMG4 AU Idea: Adventure Time With Meggy and Boopkins

Takes place in a post-Mario-series universe where the world was once again invaded by the Shroobs, and the resulting war led to an apocalypse that decimated both sides. Nearly every civilization fell to ruin, Shroob waste spread all over causing illness and rapid mutation, the heroes of the world all either died, went missing, or worse, a wide assortment of ancient evils were unleashed or reborn all across the globe, and the very rules of Magic were rewritten.

Fast forward a thousand or so years later and we're introduced to Meggy the Human and her younger brother Boopkins the Fish, who've just left their hometown of Port Aurora to become Adventurers on the mainland. They're a bit odd even by the standards of their bizarre world, since humans are believed to have been extinct for centuries, Boopkins has incredible shapeshifting powers, and their dad Joe and aunt Lily are 50-foot-tall ancient guardians of the sea.

One of the first places they end up on their journey is the Mushroom Kingdom, which is currently in a bit of a bind. The Mushroom people's ruler, Princess Apricot Toadstool, has been kidnapped by the evil Fire Lord and his army of monkeys. The Mushroom people would rescue her themselves, but they're not exactly...competent. Well, except for Guard Captain Shroomy, but if both he and Apricot are gone while the Mushrooms are already this wound up the whole kingdom will collapse in about three days. So, First Adventure Time!

After some traveling they get to the volcanic region where Fire Lord's home is and fight their way through the monkey army, and Fire Lord's demonic right-hand minion Saiko, to the Princess...es. Apparently Fire Lord has a whole Thing about princesses and there's a dozen or so in there. One of them is Bob the Thief Princess, who is a guy because there's no rule that says a princess can't be a dude. And if there is one he'll break it because he loves breaking rules.

Anyway, Apricot's with Fire Lord instead of with the other princesses, so Meggy, Boopkins and the princesses storm further into the fortress and find them.

And if you're even slightly familiar with Adventure Time you know just what kind of goofy pathetic nutcase they end up finding. Though Fire Lord is red instead of Ice King's blue, has a jeweled bracelet instead of a crown, and has the additions of incredible jumping abilities and an addiction to spaghetti.

Anyway, there's a big fight (where Apricot ends up with a massive axe somehow and decides she's never letting it go. Yes I'm repurposing Wapeach because It's My House), the good guys win, everyone goes home.

Afterwards, Apricot declares Meggy and Boopkins heroes of the Mushroom Kingdom, and offers to let them stay in her castle, but they decline since they saw a big hollow tree on the way back that they can turn into a Fresh home base.

Of course, when they move in they find out that the place is already occupied by a little camera robot named SuperMemeGenerator4, but he's excited to have some new roommates so it's not a big deal. Also Bob decides to live there too for some reason.

So there's the introduction, now some explanations:

Yes, Fire Lord is (or at least was) Mario. The bracelet he's wearing is basically a fire version of the Ice Crown. I went with him both so he could be a major character despite how long the timeskip is and as a nod to what becoming the Avatar did to him in SMG4 canon. His version of Gunther the Penguin is a monkey in a green vest named Terence. I haven't fully decided why Saiko works for him but I'm thinking it's some sort of Life Debt thing like Han and Chewey in Star Wars.

Since the Shroobs are mushroom aliens the war that ended the world is still called the Great Mushroom War.

Lily's entire backstory is still the same, except the apocalypse and the absence of the Crew means she got found and taken in by Diana, And has very clearly taken up her mantle.

Apart from Fire Lord, Lily, and a few other obvious cases, everybody has their canon ages and personalities. So Meggy and Boopkins ages are swapped from Finn and Jake's, and Apricot is a kid and a very different sort of person from Bubblegum.

Due to that and some other differences, (some obvious, others less so) this AU wouldn't really follow the same story beats as the show.

Melony ends up in Marceline's place in terms of her relationship with Mario/Fire Lord.

Most of the iconic Mario Species are either extinct or mutated/evolved almost beyond recognition, with Boos and Piranha Plants as notable exceptions, and Goombas as a prime example due to now being big pack-hunting apex predators instead of sapient footstools.

Apricot is actually Mario and Peach's however-many-greats granddaughter, and neither her nor Fire Lord are consciously aware of that connection. Apricot because the Apocalypse making it hard to map out family lines that far and Fire Lord because he doesn't remember that he's Mario and wasn't aware before All That that Peach was pregnant. Also, Apricot isn't considered human due to a mix of mutations during the apocalypse, interspecies relationships, and the fact that I'm convinced that Peach is half-Toad already (both here and in actual Mario canon). It'll be more obvious that she's not human if I ever draw her.

When SMG3 and Tari get introduced it's going to be as the previous iteration of SMG4's design and as an Android created by the same scientist who built the two of them.

Also, Luigi will eventually get introduced by way of accidentally falling through a one-way time portal, getting sent from E. Gadd's Lab before the War to the story's present day somewhere in the wilderness. His absence was actually a major contributing factor to everything going so horribly wrong. Also since he's Luigi and not Betty, and since the dynamic between twin brothers and fiancés is obviously very different, he's going to have a different reaction to Fire Lord than Betty had to Ice King.

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hazzybat · 4 months

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@mitamicah this is very cursed, very stupid and very very low effort that i don't even know if it's funny or just dumb.

joker out wonka AU i guess.

The three wonka’s were famous for their factory. Unimaginable delights trickled out of their door and their creators just as mysterious as the secrets of the sweets they produced. All that was known was the three had made their fortunes together, being the greatest candy makers anyone had know.

Nace Jordan was a strange child. Mostly because he was not a child but a 29 year old man who lived with his good friend Kris who despite being 23 was lovingly called grandpa. He’s earned the nickname through an incredibly complex story of running gags, a weird roommate relationship a brief time in the circus and three different cats named steve. If I were to tell you the whole story it would end up an entirely different fanfiction.

The wonka factory had been sitting abandoned for many years. Everyone assumed the creators were dead, no children of their own or shady lawyers to pass on the empire of chocolate to. Then one day smoke started billowing out from the candy cane stripped smoke stacks and trucks began filing out of the factory once more. The town below was abuzz with excitement especially after there was an announcement. A video that claimed 5 golden tickets were to be won for a tour of the factory and a very special prize at the end.

Kris was dirt poor and Nace was dirt poorer. They lived in what was not legally a house and at night they would burn their own armpit hair to stay warm. It didn’t keep the fire going very long and really they should have used wood but that sounded less pathetic and sad.

One day Nace came home after had earned his paycheck at the miserable child orphanage (the owner’s name was Mr Miserable and the orphanage was the happiest place in the whole town with people flying in from all over the country to adopt little children from it’s doors because they were just that happy and well behaved). He found Kris eating a chocolate bar.

“I stole it from the weird freak on the street corner.” kris explained.

“steal-from steve?” Nace confirmed. Everyone stole from steal-from steve. It wasn’t even a crime anymore.

Kris then reached into his bag and pulled out another chocolate bar and handed it to nace, smiling sweetly at the way his eyes lit up.

“Happy birthday” he said.

Nace took the bar and held it like a newborn. It was a precious thing. Delicious and wonderful and just the thing to bring some joy into their poor, moneyless lives. He unwrapped the chocolate bar and couldn’t believe his eyes and the sight of a pure gold piece of paper. It was actual solid gold. Surprisingly heavy and as a result to compensate there was much less chocolate in the bar than in Kris’s. Nace pouted at the lack of chocolate.

“oh my god we’re going to tour the factory!” Kris beamed, pulling Nace out of his stupor and together they danced and cheered into the night, their excitement keeping them warm even when the fire died out.

The day of the factory tour came and the pair eagerly waited at the golden front entrance. Nace was allowed 1 person to accompany him. The others that had won was a finnish man with his friend who was also a finnish man and some other irrelevant people who I know you don’t care about because this is a really stupid story.

Finally the doors opened and ther before them stood the Wonkas. The first was a man with a mess of shoulder length black hair and a trimmed black beard. His wore a velvet suit with tails, lime green pants, a fancy black top hat and a shiny black cane. An led screen behind them (because they wanted to make sure the gathered crowd knew who they were) displayed the name JAN WONKA in big bold letters with little fireworks behind it.

The next Wonka was BOJAN WONKA according to the screen. His coat was a rich red with a much neater brown top hat and a colourfuly patterned cravat around his throat. He was shorter than Jan, with brown hair and a grey streak that fell out from under the top hat.

The final Wonka was JURE WONKA. His coat was bright purple, sensible brown pants and bright blonde hair stuck out from beneath the light brown top hat. He was easily the cutest of the Wonka’s and the author has no personal bias in that description whatsoever that is just how he is.

Then the author got bored and decided to not write anymore but you know the plot anyway.

#why did i write this i have no idea #sorry it is terrible i swear i can actually write i was just being stupid for this #i made myself laugh sometimes

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ginnymoonbeam · 1 year

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A couple months ago I decided to watch the whole HIStory series. I had already seen Trapped (more than once) and I watched Love in the Future as it aired, so I picked up the rest in order from series 1-4. Here's my teeny tiny review of each one, in order of least favorite to favorite.

A note: overall this series is drastically unconcerned with whether its relationships are "healthy" or "unproblematic." I'm not bothered by that, and in fact some of my favorites are... well, you'll see. Definitely recommend looking for content warnings before starting any of these - I'm also happy to answer questions about content as long as they're not "how could you enjoy media that features XYZ".

Onto the reviews! There will be a few spoilers, but only things I think viewers are genuinely better off knowing before they start.

HIStory 1: Stay Away From Me

Brief premise: after their parents' marriage, Feng He gets a new roommate in his stepbrother Cheng Qing, who's a big star. It's all too much for Feng He's fujoshi best friend to handle. I quite enjoy a good stepbrothers setup, but this one fell pretty flat, and I hated the fujoshi friend situation. Shipper characters are on thin ice for me in general, and this one was so intrusive that it ruined the other things I might have enjoyed. I did like the leads pretty well - I have a soft spot for bratty characters who are secretly under a lot of strain - but the relationship development was just so-so.

HIStory 5: Love in the Future

There were parts of this I really liked, mostly the side couple, but it was sooo tedious. It's this low on the list because the ratio of "minutes I enjoyed" to "minutes I resent giving away" is so abysmal... at least the H1 installments come in at barely over an hour each, so I don't feel like I wasted so much time on the ones I didn't like. This show is trying to do at least three different genres and doing none of them well. I don't even know how to sum up the premise... there's a guy who's gotten zapped 20 years into the future by mistake, but more of the show deals with business drama and eventual corporate espionage at the department store where the other main characters are centered. There's so much going on and none of it quite coheres. I'm too bored and annoyed to talk about it any more.

HIStory 1: Obsessed

This gets top out of the three I really didn't like, because it had the most id candy. And, again, because it's short. The setup is neat: a guy who's just gotten his heart broken gets zapped back into his younger self and tries, unsuccessfully, not to get with the same guy again. The love interest is just incredibly pushy and aggressive, sometimes in a way that's bad!hot and sometimes in a way that's just bad. I also hated the reveal at the end - there was no reason for him not to explain himself immediately instead of watching his lover's heart break, and I have no patience for that kind of thing.

Those were the three I didn't really like. Now we're going from liked to loved.

HIStory 1: My Hero

This one was a big surprise to me... I would have skipped it entirely if I wasn't on a completionist project, because the premise "girl dies, gets put into a boy's body, and has to try and win over her boyfriend" is incredibly unappealing to me. But they took it in a direction I wasn't expecting and I found myself having a great time. It couldn't have sustained itself for any longer, but with an under-90-minute runtime it's a fun little story.

HIStory 2: Right or Wrong

Enjoyed this one a lot - I love a nanny romance in theory, but I'm picky about kids in media. This kid is both charming and realistically childlike, and one of the leads does plenty of yelling about the kid's initial bad home situation, so I don't have to. The basic setup is that Fei Shengzhe discovers that his professor's 8 year old daughter is being neglected, gets hired to take care of her, shakes his professor/boss into being responsible, and of course eventually falls in love.

I liked most of the relationship dynamics - when there's a big structural power differential, I like to see it balanced in-story by their personalities or other factors, and this show did that well, but there were still moments where I wanted to yell not at school! or transfer out of his class ftlog! Overall, still positive, and I'll probably rewatch it when I'm in the mood for some nicely layered domestic romance.

HIStory 2: Crossing the Line

I am not a sports person but I loved these sports boys very much. A new transfer student gets strong-armed into joining the school's volleyball team, ends up pursuing the team's previous ace, who's permanently unable to play due to an injury.

Xia Yuhao thinks he's sooo bad until he discovers a burning need to be bossed around and I love that in a man. Qiu Zixuan won my heart immediately and kept it - he's so sensible and focused and stoic, and the moments where he struggles against the reality of his injury hit so hard in contrast. This one had me hooked from beginning to end. And the side couple is exactly what I mean when I say I enjoy a good stepbrothers setup - the established intimacy and tenderness juxtaposed with confusion and guilt makes a tasty tasty emotional cocktail.

The final three shows are why this post has been sitting in drafts for a couple weeks. I've been undecided on how to rank them, and I've been processing a ton of thoughts about the two new-to-me ones. I'll try to stay brief here, and keep my longer thoughts for possible future posts.

As for ranking - I simply can't. I love all three very much, so let's just say they sit together at the top spot.

HIStory 4: Close to You

I'm fascinated by stories that take some basic messy yaoi tropes and peel them back, really dig into the layers of what's going on and how they affect people, all while keeping it fun and horny. Love in the Air does that with consent (masterfully, as I will argue until I'm blue in the face), and Close to You does it with the boundaries of intimacy, the extent to which we're required to draw rigid lines around types of intimacy and what happens when those lines get smudged.

I do understand why a lot of people simply do not fuck with this show. There very much are multiple sexual assaults, including between one of the main pairs. And while the other stepbrother romances in this series do what they can to lean away from the incest angle, this one leans hard into it. A lot of the show operates on the level of farce - it's doing absolutely outrageous things with a straight face. If you can have a sense of humor about the things it's playing with, there are some sublimely funny moments. But I don't fault anyone for saying "nope, that's not for me."

Teng Muren and Xiao Licheng, the best-friends-to-lovers, are one of my favorite couples from the whole HIStory franchise, and the only thing better than their intricate and frenetic dance around each other was Ye Xingsi watching with his fond, weary, experienced-gay gaze. Also I am obsessed with the way people just come out and say shit in this story. Nobody keeps a secret for more than half an episode, even when they really probably should. Plots are so often driven by people not telling each other everything, and watching this one run instead on everyone telling each other way too much was fascinating.

HIStory 3: Trapped

I can't possibly rank this one in relation to the others because I watched it long ago and I've seen it several times. It's been high on my list of beloved BLs since I first watched. Meng Shaofei is one of my all-time favorites, he's so stubborn and loving and honest. I love how hard he and Tang Yi fight for each other once they get together. I love when guys get lost in the woods handcuffed together, I love Tang Yi's sexy bffs and weaponized makeouts, I love the angst and hurt/comfort and yelling crying fights between two people who love each other. I don't feel the need to say much more: it's the most popular of the series, and rightly so.

HIStory 3: Make Our Days Count

I think I watched MODC in the best possible way: knowing the ending, and in 2023 when there are so many good happy-ending BLs I can't possibly watch them all. Had I watched it when it aired and been hit with the ending out of the blue, I think I'd have been as devastated and lastingly bitter as a lot of people who did.

I really do think viewers are better going into this one spoiled, so in case you don't know: one of the leads dies abruptly at the end of the penultimate episode (not onscreen), and the final episode is the surviving partner processing grief many years later.

The presence of grief - past, future, or potential - grounds a love story for me like nothing else quite does. Without the ending, I would like MODC very very much but I wouldn't love it quite as fervently as I do. The final episode is complicated and difficult - we see Xiang Haoting at a moment when his grief over Yu Xigu is rearing up due to a time of transition in his life. We see him let go of some of the ways he's been coping in the past, we see him fall into a dangerously low state and then come back out of it, but we don't see him get over it and move on. That's because you don't get over some losses, you don't move on - they sit beside you for the rest of your life, and you learn how to be happy but never entirely how to not be sad.

The other thing I love most about MODC is how extremely Boys the boys are. The leads don't look the age they're supposed to be, but they act it. No other BL I've seen has done so well at capturing this type of teenage boy, bursting at the seams with hormones and the fiery need to DO things. They lose control and do the dumbest shit even though they know better, and they're also overwhelmingly thoughtful and caring just when you least expect it. The way Xiang Haoting sometimes just moves because his body can't be still; the way the whole friend group teases and derides but also rallies around each other with fierce devotion. Haoting's reaction when his friend comes out to him is perfect - a minute of teasing and incredulity, then an immediate pivot to "I've got your back."

The contrast between youthful, hopeful energy and adult experiences of pain and loss makes the key axis the whole show rotates around. The side couple has a big age gap, with high schooler Sun Boxiang pursuing Liu Zhigang, a wounded and weary gym hottie of about 30. Yu Xigu is the same age as Boxiang and Haoting, but he already knows grief. Haoting and Boxiang with their fearless optimism beat like waves against the walls of these sadder, warier love interests until they each decide to dare to try for happiness. In the one story, Haoting ends up inheriting his lover's sorrow, and it will take some other, future connection to get him to try for happiness again. In the other, Boxiang's persistence not only brings romantic happiness to Zhigang, but eventually heals another loss that Zhigang had given up on ever seeing restored.

There's a moment during his pursuit of Zhigang when Boxiang swears he'll love him forever, and Zhigang says no, you can't promise that, no one can. Which is always what I want to say to the BL schoolboys, because I too am older, wounded and weary. You can't promise forever, no matter how badly you want to. All you can do is love each other well for as long as you can, and know that life is long, and joy follows sorrow follows joy.

#history series #taiwanese bl #history 4: close to you #history 3: modc #bl drama

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vladimpale · 1 year

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haikyuu fic rec

this mainly consists of rare pairs. these are only the ones i bookmarked in the last few months, because my dumbass didn't think to save the fics they liked before. here somewhere are also series and i highly recommended them, 10/10 would cry again. this got really long so the list is under the cut

bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima

Stupid boys talking and maybe some smut by Smokey310

series | works: 9 | 225k

Our own little magic by blueberrytoast19

incomplete(3/?) | 9k | Teen And Up Audiences

"Nature has a way of beautifully reminding us what man seems to have forgotten. We were created out of love, to be loved and to love one another" A magic and madness filled Witch au, in which Tsukishima finds everything he wasn't looking for and more, deep in the woods.

From One Ocean to the Other by insertsomethingwitty, L_E_D

incomplete(10/11) | 53k | Explicit

“He’s cheating! Don’t you care about the—the integrity of the game?” “Oh, I think integrity left this car a long time ago." Or: four pining idiots decide the best way to get over each other is to spend multiple days locked in a car together.

The Devils Downstairs by OhNoItsOikawa

complete(42/42) | 101k | Teen And Up Audiences

The people living below Tsukishima Kei's new apartment just so happen to be godless heathens who are enjoying their twenties maybe a little too much, and he just so happens to be the newest recruit into their cult of Nonsense and Shenanigans. Everyone is a little in love with each other but none of them have realized it yet, and Oikawa Tooru dresses horribly.

It might be crazy (I do it anyway) by normalfault

complete(5/5) | 14k | Teen And Up Audiences

“Can we make out on the beach?” Bokuto asked excitedly. Akaashi groaned, hitting his head against the chair in front of him. The lady in the seat turned around to glare at him, and he apologized profusely. “Why are you asking that now?” Akaashi asked weakly. Kuroo laughed loudly, drawing looks from around them. Akaashi was going to die here. He hoped the plane crashed. --- 4 times Tsukki gets drugged and 1 time it finally happens to someone else

oikawa/kuroo/akaashi

Tales of the Volleyball Sexual as told by Akaashi Keiji by lilvamp23

incomplete(5/?) | 9k | Mature

Keiji questioned a lot of things in his life. What does Crochet and Chill really mean? Was it supposed to include copious amounts of food, sketchy websites, and his entire wardrobe displayed all over his bed? He doesn’t think so. Why did he even let Shirofuku into his home? She’s a menace to his mental health. Does he find Kuroo attractive? Probably, he supposes that he is nice to look at and nice to talk to. Does that mean he wants to have sex with him? He doesn’t know. How is he supposed to know that? He just wants to go back to crocheting his little owls without contemplating the meaning of his life. Please and thank you.

akaashi/bokuto/kuroo

Pyriform Silk by Depths

incomplete(7/?) | 17k | General Audiences

Akaashi had enough trouble just trying to exist as an empath. Going to university and needing a place to stay was just another hurdle. At least the roommate offer he found online wasn't made by humans. He would far rather live with whatever flavor of supernatural his two new roommates were going to be than risk trying to live with a human.

Oh Pretty Baby by avagueidea

complete(13/13) | 23k | Teen And Up Audiences

Akaashi is possibly the only reason Bokuto and Kuroo even managed to get together in the first place. Now he just has to remember that fact while he helps Bokuto balance raising his infant daughter with a long distance relationship. If only he didn't think Kuroo was absolutely perfect for Bokuto, it might not matter that he was in love with him...

sakusa/atsumu

Three Sheets to the Wind by fairycake

complete(16/16) | 117k | Mature

The last place on earth Sakusa Kiyoomi wants to be is on this godforsaken ship sailing across the seas to attend a boring science lecture, but it is a necessary evil if he wishes to avoid attending his grandmother's birthday celebrations. That is, until his ship is boarded by a band of pirates and Kiyoomi finds himself in extremely unwanted company. He can cope with most of the rambunctious crew; though they're armed to the hilt, they're relatively harmless. He cannot, however, cope with human hurricane Miya Atsumu.

a thousand winds that blow by Gray_Herring

complete(1/1) | 18k | Teen And Up Audiences

Motoya is dead, but the Earth keeps spinning. Kiyoomi is alive, and he keeps spinning, too.

Again, until it's perfect by fairycake

complete(1/1) | 18k | Teen And Up Audiences

“Or what about Ushijima?” That catches Kiyoomi’s attention, and he stops in the middle of the street to turn around and scowl at Atsumu. “What about Ushijima?” Atsumu must tilt his head back to smirk up at Kiyoomi from beneath the visor of his cap. “He’s not workin’ on quicks. You’d be a step ahead of him if ya did. He might even raise an eyebrow in surprise or somethin’ equally as scandalous.” Kiyoomi stares at him, narrows his gaze as he scrutinises Atsumu’s face, the challenge in the upturned corners of his lips. “Are you attempting to manipulate me, Miya?” he asks. “I dunno. Is it workin’?” “Kind of.” “Then yeah, I guess.” ______________________ When Kiyoomi and Atsumu accidentally pull off a minus-tempo quick during practice, Atsumu convinces Kiyoomi to practice it for the new season. It's sort of inevitable that he convinces Kiyoomi to fall in love with him too.

yahaba/kyoutani

An Equivalent Exchange by MonkWrites

complete(4/4) | 14k | Explicit

"Years ago, you promised your firstborn to a witch. Since then, despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to get laid. The witch is starting to get pretty pissed."

I (Heart) You by darkmagicalgirl

complete(1/1) | 3k | Teen And Up Audiences

When Kyoutani comes back from the dead, Yahaba is sitting on the headstone the next row over and reading a magazine.

Mixed Signals by snoqualmie

complete(1/1) | 7k | Teen And Up Audiences

Feelings are definitely a thing he’s having. Kyoutani is really sweet. He’s family oriented and he prefers novels with female leads and he’s in all honors classes. He kind of has a big head, totally has a big smile, definitely has a big heart. His eyes are nice, he’s got that dimple. Yahaba groans and rubs his fists into his eyes.

fuel to burn by knightswatch

complete(1/1) | 4k | Mature

Kentarou is coal. Kentarou does not have a diamond inside of him.

meet me at the fucking pit (and let me hold your hand) by anyadisee

complete(1/1) | 5k | Teen And Up Audiences

“Yoo-hoo~ Oh my, why the dark faces, everyone?” Oikawa asks as he walks into the room, Iwaizumi right by his heels. Kunimi, who had been looking bored the entire time, picks up the piece of paper and loudly reads the two sentences written in thick black ink and an angry-looking scrawl across its surface. “Yahaba, meet me at the lot behind the old Humanities building, 6PM. Don’t bring anyone, and don’t be late. That’s what it says.” The room falls silent once more. Then, “Holy shit, Yahaba-chan, who did you cross this time?” [in which yahaba receives a vaguely threatening letter, and kyoutani disappears from practice.]

Presentability by darkmagicalgirl

complete(1/1) | 2k | Teen And Up Audiences

“Oh for— I mean we’ll be in public,” Yahaba said. “Representing our school. We could be on TV. Our old upperclassmen might come to watch.” “Our team, not my face,” Kyoutani had pointed out, feeling very reasonable. “Your face is a part of this team!” Yahaba looked about five seconds away from stamping his heels ineffectually, or, like, putting his fist through the wall. You could never tell with that guy.

Mint and Pine by snoqualmie

complete(1/1) | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

Yahaba yanks at Kyoutani’s uniform in the club room and ties his tie so tight after morning practice that sometimes Kyoutani thinks he’s trying to fucking strangle him.

bokuto/akaashi

run rabbit run by norio

complete(1/1) | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

Rule #1: Don't hurt Akaashi. Rule #2: Don't taint Akaashi. Rule #3: Don't involve Akaashi. Rule #4: Don't damage Akaashi. Rule #5 (optional): Try not to destroy yourself.

cotton game by mydamantiumheart

complete(2/2) | 18k | Explicit

It starts out innocent- as innocent as it can be, at least. It only goes downhill from there. It's just that sometimes, Koutarou can't help spinning a million miles per second, and he needs someone to slow him down. Feat. nonsexual bondage + kink leading into (gradually sexual) kink exploration, Keiji helping Koutarou's brain quiet down, and stupid boys falling in love.

kuroo/tsukishima

greek tragedy by ineedmygirl

series | works: 2 | 184k

yaku/lev

Item 37 by invoked_duplicity

complete(1/1) | 2k | General Audiences

Yaku likes to keep lists. His newest list is about all the things he dislikes about a certain, very tall someone.

kuroo/daishou/mika

you can have everything, i give it willingly by eurydicees

complete(1/1) | 12k | Teen And Up Audiences

She and Suguru have been dating since they were seventeen. It’s strange, really, because she loves him, but she’s also not as mad as she should be while she watches Kuroo watch Suguru. She’s not as upset as she should be when she sees Suguru look back at him. In which Kuroo pines, Suguru refuses to acknowledge it, and Mika meddles in places she isn’t quite sure she has the right to meddle. It's not a picture perfect love, but it is theirs.

suga/daichi

in between evenings by thispieceofmind

complete(4/4) | 31k | Mature

Then, those eyes crinkle up with the perfect smile, the one Suga sees on Daichi’s face only sometimes, and Daichi adds, “I like when it’s just us.” Suga can feel it on his face that he’s grinning back, and when he sits up, too, his head spins for a moment. He places a hand on Daichi’s knee to steady himself. His lip quirks when he notes, just shy of teasingly, “It’s usually just us, Daichi.” The thing about falling in love with your best friend is that it happens so slow.

Ice Ice Baby by nastyhobbitsses

complete(1/1) | 2k | Teen And Up Audiences

confessions of a teenage volleyball captain by solyn

complete(1/1) | 14k | Teen And Up Audiences

“Is this better? Am I real enough for you yet? Am I permanent? Can you successfully objectify me, Sawamura-kun?” or: Daichi confesses... but does he really?

kuroo/akaashi

so hot you're hurting my feelings (can't deal) by flickercity

complete(1/1) | 9k | Mature

"And with that his eyes had flickered on Akaashi’s face for just a moment and the idle fleeting thought that Kuroo was maybe....sexy....had crossed Akaashi’s mind." OR Kuroo and Akaashi want to kiss each other and it gets wildly out of hand.

Line thieves by hyugapineapple

complete(1/1) | 1k | Genetal Audiences

“You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, Keiji.” Kuroo whispers with no heat in his voice, pressing his forehead against Akaashi’s. “Isn’t that my line?” “Nope!” Tetsurou chirps happily. “Don’t you know? Research says that couples tend to adopt each other’s habits over years. I have full rights to use that line now.”

Would you rather be with me? by oopsthisisqueertoo

complete(1/1) | 3k | Teen And Up Audiences

“So. Would you rather explore space or the ocean?” Akaashi crumples his eyebrows and looks over at Kuroo in the dark. Their power had gone out at the dorm, so they were laying on the living room floor under every blanket they owned. To make matters worse, it was a holiday weekend and everyone Akaashi knew had gone home, making him stuck alone with pain-in-the-ass-Kuroo-san. In the Winter. With no power. It was every fan-fic writer’s wet dream. Akaashi wanted to die. Or, me needing to get some roommate KuroAka fluff and sass out of my system.

Somehow It Works by helwolves

complete(1/1) | 3k | Explicit

Keiji looks Kuroo up and down, taking in the ridiculous red wizard robe, the knee-high boots, the sharp black lines defining his sharper eyes, the carved foam horns nestled in his wild hair. It really should not be working for him—and yet. Shenanigans behind the scenes of Final Haikyuu Quest, concerning one cameraman and one best supporting demon.

hinata/kageyama/kenma

love fills you out by joshllyman

complete(1/1) | 2k | General Audiences

Hinata bounces upstairs—literally; Kageyama is, for a moment, concerned the floor might give underneath the weight of his excitement—and into Kageyama’s room. “Come with us!” he half-shouts. Kageyama narrows his eyes. “Where and why?” Hinata rolls his eyes and smiles, like he knows Kageyama’s been listening. “We’re going to the sushi shop, Bakageyama. Me and Kenma.” Kageyama frowns. “And you want me to come along?”

#i didn't even know i shipped so many rarepairs tbh #and some of them aren't even here #anyways these are all worth a read #most of them are my favourite fics of all time #there was also a heist bakt fic i could not find #haikyuu!!#bokuaka #bokuakakurotsuki #bakt #kurotsuki #daisuga #oikuroaka #sakuatsu #kyouhaba #yakulev #kuromikashou #kagekenhina #figuring out the format of this post was a pain in the ass

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