If The Sky Is Pink And White 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.

favourite sight // leehan

When the annual summer class trip means a visit to Busan and staying at Leehan’s family’s hotel, you know that it will be total chaos, you just don’t expect to fall for your arch nemesis, the most popular boy of the year - Leehan himself.

➳ Characters: class vice-president!Leehan x class president!female reader/you

➳ Genre: boarding school au, summer class trip au, enemies to lovers (but not really), rich kids au, fluff, comedy

➳ Words: 6.7k

➳ Warning: mentions of food, reader can't swim and almost drowns in one scene, academic pressure, playful banter between reader and Leehan in which Leehan is called a show off, stupid tall with stupid long eyelashes and stupid long legs (because she's oblivious duh)

➳ A/N: This story is the second installment of my 'love map' multifandom series which features 3 different idols and 3 different stories that take place in 3 different countries. The stories can be read on their own though.❤️

Header taken from this WHY Concept Film

➳ Dedicated to: @dat-town ❤️

➳ Taglist: @s00buwu, @emmylksblog, @0310s, @hansuo

When the annual summer class trip means a visit to Busan and staying at Leehan’s family’s hotel, you know that it will be total chaos, you just don’t expect it to be this chaotic. Alas, you also end up falling for your arch nemesis, the most popular boy of the year - Leehan himself.

You weren’t supposed to stay at the hotel of Leehan’s family. You were supposed to go somewhere else, some place that had nothing to do with him, but the arranged accommodation went back on your request when they decided to take on organising a business event for an international company. Not that you could blame them; they were probably better off serving cocktail after cocktail to rich business people than babysit students who were not allowed to drink alcohol and bring in any either.

Like the show-off he was, Leehan rang his parents the moment your homeroom teacher announced that she would need to look for another accommodation, and asked for your help - you as class president and Leehan as vice-president. The boy was done within a few minutes, and your homeroom teacher looked like she was on the verge of crying when he confirmed that his family’s hotel had enough rooms for their class. She had already been stressed over organising this whole trip to Busan on her own while trying to accommodate all the parents’ requests, she probably already thought that she had to cancel the whole trip because of this.

The only reason you held yourself back from snorting was because of Miss Lee, otherwise, you would have made a comment on how Leehan always ended up playing the hero, and how he knew ‘someone’ wherever he went. Sure, everyone was famous and rich in one way or another at KOZ International High School as it was a private boarding school, the number 1 for university admission rate success in Asia and number 5 worldwide, but he just seemed to be everywhere.

Plus, since you were the class president and he was the vice-president, you just had to put up with it all the time. Even if it meant having to shoo away shrieking girls when they caught sight of him in the library as you two were picking up books for the next class or rolling your eyes when you collected mobile phones at the beginning of the day and yet another girl made a joke about how Leehan could keep their phone if it meant that they could have his heart.

You already knew that this class trip would be about him when Busan came out as the most voted destination in this year’s poll, the first Korean city after the last two years - it was Hanoi the summer after freshman year and Shanghai the summer after sophomore year. You just didn’t expect that it would be about him to this extent.

“Were your rooms really not sold out for that week during summer?” You quirked an eyebrow as you exited the teachers’ room, shooting the boy a glance. He didn’t seem to be offended by the implication behind your words, he merely said:

“The hotel has a separate building for events where mostly weddings take place and wedding guests can sleep, and it was coincidentally not booked yet. Wedding season starts a bit later into summer.”

“Of course,” you mumbled under your nose, not like you knew anything about the hospitality industry. Your parents owned a private clinic, the furthest thing from his family’s line of work.

“I’d say it was supposed to happen this way,” he shrugged his shoulders casually, the tie around his neck a bit looser than usual, and you had this inexplicably annoying urge to reach out and fix it for him. You wanted to save your dignity though, you could already imagine the teasing remarks you would get if you willingly did something like this for him, so no thanks, you would rather jump off a cliff.

“Are you that happy to go to Busan?”

“I mean, there’s the seaside, there’s my parents’ hotel, what’s there not to love?”

Everything, you wanted to say, but when you turned a corner, the hustle-bustle of the corridor filled with the students’ chatting blocked out all of the snarky thoughts in your head, and instead, you saved yourself from another 15 minutes of having to witness the boy’s popularity to yourself, and told him that you would go ahead and set up the Physics lab for next class, he could do it next week.

He didn’t protest, he merely gave you a bob of his head and a lazy half-smirk, something that made girls go crazy over him, except you.

The hotel was enormous, to say the least, and you weren’t even in the main area. You really had a separate building to yourself that had a dining room, a dance room and a karaoke room on the ground floor. You had the feeling that they turned a bar into the latter because there were shelves that seemed similar to shelves that held fancy bottles of alcohol, but nothing seemed out of place. You even had an outside pool and a direct view of the seaside, something that made everyone impressed.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us about this place in the previous years? We should have come here every summer before,” Yechan exclaimed as he took out his phone and started recording, probably filming a new video for his Youtube channel. It seemed that every mundane person was either too curious or too bored to get a glimpse into a boarding school student’s daily life because his channel had already accumulated 2 million followers, and he had only started last year. Though it definitely helped that he was half Canadian, half Korean, so he could speak both English and Korean and provide subtitles for both languages.

“I thought you said you wanted us to go to your parents’ hotel next time,” Jungwon chirped in, but the Canadian boy shook his head.

“Nah, Toronto is too cold for summer trips.”

“Can we use the pool too, Miss Lee?” Millie inquired after the two boys settled on dismissing Canada as a possible destination for next year’s class trip. Thank God next year’s trip will be the last one, you didn’t know how you would survive these events any longer. Plus, all the money that you spent on this summer trip should have been donated to charity in your opinion, but alas, it was mandatory.

“Of course, but only until 10 PM, and obviously, be responsible. Some of you can’t swim, so no pushing, alright?”

“Who can’t swim?” You heard Gyuvin ask with his jaw comically dropping, but his question was muffled by the cacophony of suitcase spinner wheels, dropped bags and the usual lively chit-chat of soon-to-be senior year students.

“How do you like it?” Leehan asked, leaning closer to you, so you could hear him, but you gave him a death glare for doing so, and stepped backwards. Too bad that a lamp pole was also there, and you almost bumped your head into it if it hadn’t been for Leehan’s hand taking the hit.

For a moment, you just blinked up at him and his stupid height, too embarrassed for your own good. You were the class president, for God’s sake, you were the person of order and responsibility, you couldn't randomly bump into lamp posts!

You could see from the corner of your eyes that Taesan - Leehan’s friend - thought better of waiting for him, and awkwardly turned around to walk towards the hotel, but you didn’t dare look for his full reaction. You were sure that your face was flushed as it was, you didn’t need anyone else’s reaction on top of Leehan’s.

“Are you okay?” The boy asked uncharacteristically gently, his voice void of any playfulness, which was almost a first for him. Why did he even have to have stupid long eyelashes? Ones that fluttered oh so beautifully while he was looking down at you.

“I’m fine. Never been better. You should just… keep your distance from me,” you warned him as you pushed him away, at least enough, so that you could grab your suitcase again and start walking towards the hotel. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you with his stupid long legs.

“I can see that my closeness is having an effect on you even though you clearly claimed in sophomore year that you are immune to boys like me.”

“I am. It’s not my fault that you sneaked up to me like that, and that lamp post was there behind me,” you pointed out defensively, and kept your eyes on the back of the last two students from your class.

Miss Lee got Mr Brown with him - your English teacher -, so that they could supervise your class, but they were at the front, and you and Leehan were always at the back at events like this, so that no one could get lost (like Yuma and Jo on a company visit to Samsung in sophomore year) or hide in a bush ever again (Gyuvin once tried that during a class trip).

“Well, this is my city, and I’m going to make sure everyone has the time of their life, including you,” Leehan announced triumphantly, flashing a smile at you that was akin to the ones he used when he was campaigning to be voted as the vice-president again after last year. No wonder Rei didn’t get the title even though you would have preferred to have her instead of Leehan.

“Sure. Good luck with that,” you wished with an eye roll, and urged Ricky in front of you to keep moving instead of checking his hair in the hotel’s glass door.

If Leehan’s idea of having the time of your life was handing out shark-shaped gummies and bringing giant Sony party speakers to the pool - the ones that even had microphones attached to them, so you could have a karaoke - on the second night, you would have a pretty miserable life.

Nevertheless, you were only there because Miss Lee and Mr Brown were on duty at the entrance, checking if no one tried to sneak alcohol into the hotel, so you didn’t even bother with a swimsuit, you merely wore a flowery summer dress. Much to some girls’ dismay, most of the boys didn’t go shirtless, they had long-sleeved yet tight swimwear and shorts, the ones people used for some water sports. Though since Ricky’s parents owned the brand they wore, you had an idea why.

Anton was on lifeguard duty since he was on the national swimming team, and he would probably rather jump in to save a drowning student than manoeuvre himself around guys playing with plastic water guns and girls chatting in the pool instead of outside of it. You asked him if he needed anything - something to drink or to take a break -, but he said that he was fine, so you didn’t need to worry.

You acknowledged his answer with a bob of your head, and turned around just in time to be splashed by a huge amount of water by Pierre who had just jumped in. You stood there, frozen, your summer dress completely sticking to your body, and you were in the middle of blinking the water out of your eyes when you heard someone yell ‘class president’ and then you were pushed into the water with the kind of force that you could not resist.

It’s not like you couldn’t get any wetter than this, but you couldn’t swim, and your flailing hands didn’t do a thing to keep you up. You were about to throw every kind of rationality out of the window as your basic survival instincts kicked in, but you could feel strong hands pulling you to the surface in no time, Anton’s body emerging from the water beside yours.

“Are you okay?” The boy inquired with big, bright eyes, his damp hair hiding most of his face before he reached out to push his hair back. 

Still struggling to breathe properly, you mumbled something akin to an answer, and blinked rapidly, taking in the silence around you and the concerned or curious eyes of your classmates.

The only one who wasn’t surprised to see you struggling was Anton since he had gotten the names of students who couldn’t swim in case no one else would jump in to save a drowning student - a list you had volunteered to put together and pass onto him. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that you would be the first one who had to be rescued by him, and that the whole class would know about the fact that you couldn’t swim already on the second day of the trip.

You, the straight A-student, class president since sophomore year, speaking three languages fluently and playing the violin professionally. You, the daughter of the owners of the most prestigious private clinic in not only Seoul but the whole country. You, who was not supposed to have any weakness or fear.

You could faintly hear someone apologise and Anton asking if you needed him to ask for a medical staff, but you shrugged everyone off. Your flip-flops were probably in the pool somewhere after your fall, and you couldn’t be bothered to go back and fetch them. Instead, you furiously trampled back into the hotel barefoot.

It wasn’t just the dress sticking to you, it was humiliation too, something that you had not experienced on such a wide level after being told in front of the whole class that you had messed up a basic equation during a Maths test. No one would have guessed that you had been ill the whole week before the test because you had not let them know about it.

When you heard footsteps behind you, you already knew who it was before you turned to face him in all your wet glory, pitiful compared to his beautiful shoulder-length hair, softest of the brown of chestnuts and fluffiest of the ruffable kind.

“What do you want? I can go to my room on my own, thank you so much,” you told him off before he could have given you an answer, but then, he draped a towel over your body without saying a word.

You were about to shrug it off, but he pulled it tighter around you, holding the ends of the towel with his fists. You looked up at him, eyes throwing angry daggers, and maybe that was what prompted him to justify his actions.

“Your dress… it’s kind of see-through now,” he blurted out as if it was difficult for him to say something that could have been - under different circumstances - borderline flirty. But this was in no way a time and place where you would have wanted to be told that the white flowery dress of yours that should have not been in contact with any kind of liquid was now showing everyone what was underneath. How stupid of you, how stupid of those stupid boys to still act like dumbass kids and push others into the water.

Even if it was not Leehan who did this to you, his remark set something off within you, like when the countdown is up on a ticking time bomb or the trigger is pulled.

“You see, that’s why I didn’t want to come here. It’s not enough that now the whole class knows that I can’t swim but they also saw my underwear. Great. I’m really having the best time of my life, Leehan,” you spitted out furiously, pushing his hands away before pulling the tower tighter around your body, and walking back to your room, drops of water and mortification following your barefoot steps.

Of course, the news of the incident reached your teachers pretty quickly, and both Miss Lee and Mr Brown were knocking on your door as soon as you managed to get changed and hide the remains of your tears with an embarrassing amount of concealer. You reassured them that you were fine, but they told you to take it easy for the rest of the night, they would ask Anton to look over the students in your place since he was already monitoring the pool either way.

Then, Noah also came by to apologise for pushing you into the water. It wasn’t even the most embarrassing part that he had to come by to do it, the most embarrassing part came when he gave you that pitiful look, that ‘oh, I didn’t know you can’t swim’, something that almost made you curse him out right on the spot. Instead, you told him to keep himself in check for the rest of the trip because you wouldn’t help him out in Biology if you ever heard him joke about this incident. He scurried away like a wounded animal, but at least, he came by.

When the third knock on your room came, you seriously contemplated not opening the door. After all, you could be listening to music with your noise-cancelling headphones on, or you could already be sleeping, or even crying in the bathroom like you had done so an hour ago. In the end, you didn’t want to be a coward, and opened the door, but the last person you wanted to see there was Leehan.

“Look, before you ask what I’m doing here, I want to say that I got some stuff for you from the kitchen because Miss Lee said that you didn’t come down for dinner, and I thought you might be hungry,” he started, holding up his hands in front of his chest as if saying that he knew you were about to ask him these questions. You were, and even if he thought that  you were moping in your room (which you did) because you were still embarrassed about what had just happened (which you were), you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of agreeing to him.

However, he beat you to it, and continued his monologue before you could even open your mouth to protest.

“It’s not because I think you wouldn’t come down after what happened, but if you’re worried about the others, don’t worry. There is already bigger news such as Kit confessing to Millie and Gyuvin stepping on a bee and getting stung, so everyone’s already over what happened with you. Maybe except Anton who kept asking if you were alright, but that boy is too kind-hearted not to do so,” he said so in such a conversational manner that someone walking by might have thought that you were talking about the weather.

Maybe it was the drowning experience getting to you or the genuine consideration in his words and actions, but you found yourself smiling, and before you could hide it, Leehan also noticed it.

“Oh great, you’re smiling! Now, eat your dinner or you won’t get tall,” he teased you as he reached out the plate of food he brought. There was a sandwich, some veggies, crisps and a napkin on it, plus a bottle of smoothie in his other hand.

“Yah, I take after my mother in terms of height. She would be sad if she heard you criticising my height,” you pointed out, puffing your chest out like you wanted to take pride in your frame. Not everyone could be so stupidly tall as him (and many other boys in the class, by the way).

“Alright, alright, I’ll take it back.”

“Well, thank you,” you retorted a bit playfully before looking down at the plate in your hand. “And for the food, too,” you added a bit more seriously while you looked back at him. He just kept staring at you, the ends of his lips curling upwards in somewhat of an affectionate gesture, and it was so unlike the Leehan that you knew that you found it difficult to form coherent words.

“And the towel, too,” you found yourself admitting, a bit struck by that never-seen-before smile of his. Even his dimples popped off when the smile reached a certain height, and suddenly, you had no idea what to say.

“Well then, I guess my duty’s done for today. Good night, Y/N!” Leehan broke the silence first, breaking the serene moment, but you were actually thankful for him. For a second, you were scared that if you saw more of this side of him, you would start falling for him, and you couldn’t allow yourself to.

“Good night, Leehan!” You wished with a smile that you would not take responsibility for, before closing the door on him.

It’s not that you and Leehan were enemies as per se. It’s more like you were usually of a different opinion, and as class president and vice-president who had to work together pretty much all the time, it was quite bothersome to put up with it. Not to mention the crowd of fangirls following him everywhere.

At first, you thought that he was just a pretty face, joyfully swimming in his glory, but from time to time, you could catch a glimpse into how taxing it was to act like he did so on the daily - reacting to girls with a kind smile no matter what they said, playing along with their flirty remarks and always trying to say the right words to avoid getting into trouble. When some students’ inquiries were far too personal or pushy, you tried to step in, and made excuses for you two, so that you could leave the scene, and far too often, Leehan thanked you for it. He didn’t have to know that you didn’t do it for yourself (which you claimed that you did) but for him.

However, after the events on the second day, you didn’t know what to do with yourself when you were around him. After all, he had no reason to pay you a visit and to bring you dinner. He didn’t even have to confirm it with Miss Lee that you hadn’t come down to get dinner. So why was he going the extra mile? Your first thought was that he wanted something from you, but when the next day passed by without any favours, just a day of going to the aquarium, walking along the seaside and a moderate pool party at night, you grew suspicious.

On the fourth day, when you were done with sightseeing for the day, the teachers gave you three hours of free time to look around by yourselves, and it was the perfect chance to ask the boy about it while the students around you were busy deciding on their activity.

“Do you want something from me?” You posed the question at Leehan straight-forwardly, and the boy furrowed his eyebrows in question, appearing perplexed.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean… you’re awfully kind to me these days. Perhaps… did you do something to my locker before we left for the trip?” You guessed suspiciously, suddenly being reminded of the time he put a heart-shaped sticker on your locker with the words ‘class president’ written with ink in the middle of it. It was after you were selected class president for the second consecutive year, and it was his first time being the vice president beside you. Needless to say, it was impossible to remove that sticker no matter how hard you tried, you could only manage to wash off the ink, and now it seemed even more embarrassing to have a random heart-shaped ticker on your locker from no other than Leehan.

The boy must have found it extremely amusing to see you suspecting him like that because he let out that endearing giggle of his that was both boyish and innocent.

“Now that you mention it, maybe I should have…” He teased you with a lopsided grin, and you were about to smack him in the side when Gyuvin, Ricky and Taesan came up to you to ask where you were thinking of going in your free time. You heard Millie, Liv and Selina say that they would go shopping, and Leo said something about wanting to try fishing (though you had no idea if it was allowed at this part of the seaside), you didn’t know about others’ plans.

Truth to be told, you had no idea about yours either, you would probably just find yourself a cosy little café and take a breather because it was hot and stuffy out here, but you didn’t want anyone else to follow suit, so you didn’t say a word.

“Taesan, you know that place that I’ve told you about? You should go ahead with the guys, we need to discuss something with Y/N about tomorrow’s activities,” Leehan answered first, and you gave him a side eye. What more did you need to discuss with him other than the ones you already did?

Taesan seemed somewhat perplexed for a moment, but then, his features smoothened, and he coolly told the others to follow him. Even though Gyuvin suggested that they could wait for you, Ricky patted his shoulder and dragged the lanky boy with him, so it was just you and Leehan again.

“What more do we need to discuss?”

“I want to show you something,” he announced, scratching the back of his neck a bit shyly. Since you were awful at reacting normally to surprises, you merely said:

“Is this the part where you will take me to an abandoned warehouse and leave me there, so that you can be the class president next year?”

Leehan let out a deep, joyous laughter hearing your question, and reassured you that no, he wouldn’t want to run for class president because that was your title, and no, he wouldn’t take you to an abandoned warehouse. He explained that the guys might not enjoy what he was about to show you, but if he remembered correctly, you would do so.

You eyed him for a good thirty seconds before letting him take you where he wanted. After all, it was his city, he knew his way around, so you followed him, and soon enough, you found yourself in the Busan Arboretum with one of the prettiest glasshouses you had ever seen in real life.

You were waiting for the boy to crack a joke or say something teasing, but instead, he merely declared:

“I remembered you making a presentation about the functionality of glasshouses and ending it with different glasshouses in the country, and I don’t know if you remember, but this was one of them.”

“I do, but how do you remember that?” You turned the tables, turning to look at him, to look him in the eyes because you didn’t get it. How did he remember such an insignificant detail from a presentation you had given years ago?

Leehan smiled at you gently as if he was looking at a child, ready to say something, but then, he decided otherwise and averted his eyes to the plants in front of him. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and asked if you wanted to take pictures. So you let him take a few shots of you in exchange for doing the same for him, and it was all fun and games, acting silly and joking about pushing the other into a cactus when a sudden realisation hit you like lighting:

Were you falling for Leehan?

On the fifth day, you went to the Gamcheon Culture Village with its picturesque murals and quaint alleys, soaking up a mixture of art and history while listening to the tour guide who was assigned to your group. There were many pretty stairs, vibrant art installations and even a statue of the Little Prince and its Fox looking over the houses that were clumped together as if they were meant to be. The tour was supposed to last 4 hours, but it was close to 5 hours by the time everyone stopped posing for pictures and halting at every possible corner.

You must have been visibly in awe because Leehan joked that you should close your mouth, but when you admitted that you didn’t expect Busan to be this diverse, you caught sight of a proud smile stretching across his lips. He reminded you that he told you that he would make sure everyone has the time of their life, but you rebutted by stating that the itinerary was mainly Miss Lee’s work, not his. To that, he didn’t say anything, just kept smiling to himself like a fool, giving yet another reason for Taesan to give him a side eye.

After finishing the tour with a lunch break in between, you picked up some ice cream before the tour bus picked you up and took you back to the hotel. That night was BBQ-themed and there was also a campfire, something so movie-like and childish, yet it had a special feel to it because most of you had never had a campfire. Your families weren’t the typical families that took you camping for vacation. Most of you flew to other countries to visit a store from your parents’ chain or to accompany your relatives to important events. Having a BBQ where you could take part in grilling the meat, preparing the veggies and side dishes, and singing songs around the campfire weren’t exactly the kind of activities that you were used to, but no one complained. Not even Ricky who ate his hamburger with a knife and a fork because he hated getting his hands dirty.

It was also fun listening to all the different songs your classmates sang in all the different languages - from French to Spanish, Vietnamese to Korean -, how different they sounded, yet how much you enjoyed them all despite not understanding the words. One thing that you liked about your school - and your class - was that it was so diverse, you never had to worry that you would stand out because of your skin colour or hair, everyone was welcome. Whilst that didn’t lift the weight off your shoulders that the academic pressure put on, you were grateful that you had the chance to be exposed to such a supportive learning environment.

“Wanna play Truth or Dare?” Zack asked enthusiastically after it seemed like everyone was out of songs, and even Miss Lee dared to sit beside Mr Brown, reassured that no one would set the grill on fire (though Leo was close to it at one point).

“Really? We are almost seniors, that’s for kids,” Yechan refuted with a huff, rolling his eyes in a sassy way.

“Does that mean you have something to hide?” Wonyoung asked with a playful grin, and that was all it took for Yechan to give in and join the game. You passed on it, not wanting to be the victim of any of the ‘dares’ which - based on last years’ games - always included doing aegyo, a popular girl group dance (for both boys and girls), reenacting drama scenes, doing 50 pushups, chugging down Coke within 1 minute or kissing someone. You didn’t want to be a victim of any of it.

The others only protested for like a minute before they forgot about it, and let you walk away from the circle of students sitting around the campfire. You walked up to the edge of the property, leaning against the railing and taking in the scenery. You were so used to the huge skyscrapers in the capital city and the magnificent walls of your boarding school that times like this reminded you that there was a world outside of the little bubble you existed in for most part of the year, or at least the school year.

“Guests always get surprised when they see this view because they initially think our description of a beautiful view of the sea is an overstatement,” Leehan remarked in a conversational manner while he was walking up to you, and halted beside you, only an arm's length away. His hair was seemingly freshly washed, some unruly locks escaping his earlobe and falling into his eyes instead. Even though he did tuck them behind his ears dutifully, you were itching to do the same for him.

Gosh, you were really going insane, weren’t you? And yet… falling for him never seemed so thrilling.

“There are a lot of scams nowadays,” you hummed, pointing out that a lot of accommodations did indeed lie about beautiful views and such, so that people would choose them. His family didn’t lie though. “It’s so pretty,” you admitted quietly, watching as the setting sun painted different streaks onto the surface of the water, colours ranging from grape purple to princeton orange. You usually didn’t notice the sunrise or the sunset when you were scooped up in your room or the library, so having to witness such beautiful installations in the sky for the past week was kind of moving.

“You are prettier.”

When the words rolled off Leehan’s tongue, you snapped your head back to look at him, but just like his tone, his expression was gentle, too. He appeared so soft, so dreamy in that moment with the sunset painting colours onto the canvas of his skin, that for the first time in a while, you were completely speechless beside him. As if you were enchanted or starstruck. Both of which could actually be true.

Leehan though, he took note of your silence, too.

“I don’t even get an “oh, that’s too cheesy, stop it”?” He asked, now with a lopsided grin, and you let out a light-hearted giggle in return. Something weightless bubbled up inside of you when you simply stated:

“I would tell you that if I didn’t know that you like me.”

The boy’s eyes widened to almost twice their size, his lips slightly parting. He looked so baffled, almost as if you had told him that you wouldn’t run for class president next year - something that everyone took for granted after your first year together.

“Y-you know?”

“I mean, I had a feeling after the second day when you checked up on me and brought me dinner, but I became certain after the arboretum visit,” you confessed, somewhat easier now that you saw his reaction, and he didn’t deny it. Maybe the only one who needed convincing about one’s feelings was you about your own. “You didn’t even tell me why you remembered that glasshouse presentation of mine, so after I did some analysing and calculating of our three years together, that’s the conclusion I reached.”

Despite your voice not wavering, your heart was going wild, thumping against your ribcage. You didn’t know why because you knew he liked you, and you liked him too, but still… You could barely process your own feelings, let alone his feelings towards you, and now you saw all the little interactions you had with him before in a whole new light.

“And is that a satisfactory conclusion for you?” He quirked an eyebrow, both amused and uncertain, and the way he played along was all there was to say about your dynamics.

“Yes, because I feel the same way.”

“What kind of same way?” Leehan teased as he took a step closer to you, purposefully making you say it out loud. You heaved a sigh, looking away from his gorgeous face to be able to pull yourself together before you looked back and said:

“You know… I like you, too,” you blurted out as fast as you could, and you were awarded with his cutest toothy smile, dimples popping out, eyes turning into little crescents. Something that you had not seen him display around any girl before, and the fact that it was for you made you feel a bit emotional.

“Of course,” he mused as he reached out, and his fingers started playing with yours resting on the railing, testing the waters. Maybe a few days ago you would have said that you were unable to move because it was so sudden, so unexpected, but now you knew that it was because it was him, and because one touch of his electrified you from head to toe. “I knew you weren’t immune to me either,” he added playfully, and you were about to smack him in the chest, but he caught your hand, and intertwined your fingers instead.

And you let him tease you as much as he wanted, at least for now.

Next day rolled by quickly, and it was already time to leave. You couldn’t deny that you came here, hating even the idea of being in this city, let alone Leehan’s family’s hotel, but now, you were reluctant to leave because leaving meant leaving him behind.

“It’s just for the summer, Leehan,” you reminded him when he was sulking to you in the hotel lobby, but it seemed like he wasn’t convinced. He tried to make you stay for at least a few more days because he wouldn’t go back with the rest of you to Seoul, but you told him that you were invited to a few events with your family in the next week, so you had to go back. Plus, you were volunteering during the summer at the children’s ward in a local hospital, but you reassured him that you could squeeze some time in to come back to Busan.

“But still… we’ve only just begun,” he whimpered like a child, his fingers playing with yours as you were standing face-to-face. Even yesterday, he could barely let go of you when he walked you back to your room, and today, he was being clingy, too. No wonder the whole class knew by now that you two were together.

“You know, there’s this thing called technology. We can text, videochat, whatever you want.”

“But it won’t be the same as seeing my pretty girlfriend in person,” he protested with an all too cute pout, and even though you should have been prepared for compliments like this from him, you weren’t.

Yechan walked by you with an audible cough, followed by Ricky and Gyuvin. Gyuvin’s eyes widened comically when he saw Leehan’s fingers holding onto yours, and he turned to his friends, asking since when you two were a thing.

“Dude… you’re like three years behind,” Yechan snickered into his hands, watching Gyuvin’s meme-like surprised face with amusement. Ricky just looked at him, probably wondering how they ended up becoming friends.

“Wait! Have they been together all these years?”

You couldn’t help a laughter bubbling up in your chest as the three of them walked out of the hotel. There were a few girls afterwards who giggled when they saw you two so close to each other, but no one said anything hurtful. Maybe they indeed knew all along.

“I really gotta go now. You know, since my vice-president won’t be with me, I’ll have to do the attendance check alone.”

“Since when was I ‘your’ vice-president, hmm?” Leehan asked with a smirk, leaning closer to you to watch your face crumble from up-close, then flush, dressing your cheeks in a ruby-red cover.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, you did.”

“I didn’t, you heard it wrong.”

“I heard it very clearly, you called me your vice-president, and I-”

Whatever Leehan was about to say was muffled by the kiss you planted on his left cheek in an attempt to shut him up and leave the topic as it is. However, the boy completely froze, and he only managed to pull himself together when you eventually walked away from him to get on the tour bus.

Then, he was in full-on puppy mode, waving at the bus with his toothy smile, his eyes turning to little crescents again. Your favourite sight, you decided right then and there.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

Click here for my BND masterlist

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Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

summary you take it upon yourself to make it up to lyney when he couldn’t perform on the night he looked forward to the most—and lyney falls a little harder.

or, sickfic, basically, but it’s more than that

warnings wc 3k, mentions of injuries and blood, fluff!!! and a bit of angst oops

A/N @hiraethsdesires wanted to get tagged so here u goo!!! hope u like reading it <3

“For the last time, Lyney,” you sigh, shoving one more macaron in the small, red box with the same shade as the accents of his hat, “I can’t attend your show.”

It’s a stroke of luck for him that you don’t have a line right now, or else you would’ve kicked him out the moment you saw him enter, fully expecting he doesn’t intend on leaving right away.

Lyney droops dramatically, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Seriously? Not this week either?”

“Not this week either. Not ever, I’m pretty sure I told you.” You push the box against his chest, to which he responds eagerly by situating his free hand firmly over yours.

He keeps his grip firm when you try tugging your hands away. He bores his eyes into yours, too sincere and open for a performer such as himself—you feel a bit of your will chip away. “That night is special to me. Won’t you consider again?”

“Why is it special?”

Lyney’s lips curl into a smirk, striking right when you’ve faltered. “Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You jerk your hands out of his grip as he laughs. “Bold assumption,” you say, smiling a little when Lyney cries a ‘come onnnn’. “Lyney, I already said—”

“—That you have no one else to take care of the shop if you leave, I know, I know,” Lyney interrupts with clear disdain. “But don’t you think I deserve a bit of compensation? Surely you recognize my efforts in being this bakery’s most loyal customer. Most purchases and most compliments to the prettiest owner.”

You roll your eyes, but you do give it a bit of thought. Lyney has been the reason why your humble little shop tucked in some hidden corner of Fontaine’s city has been gaining attention. You’ve definitely increased in customers ever since Lyney took it upon himself to come over every day with a Rainbow Rose and a dream (and Mora).

“If I attend to one, will you promise it’ll be the last?”

Lyney’s expression shifts instantly. He beams, leaning close enough until your noses are touching. You swear you can see the sparkles in his eyes. “I can’t promise anything if you enjoy it so much you keep coming back for more.”

“Don’t push it,” you say.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Lyney murmurs, his smile turning softer. “You’re not joking around, right? That’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes, I guess.”

He kisses your hand three times, saying, “I’ll make it the best night of your life, I promise,” between them.

You look forward to it. You wouldn’t tell it to his face, but if he were to look closer and see the tremble of your hands to the smile on your face, he’d know anyway.

Lyney doesn’t come over the next day.

You will yourself not to feel too disappointed. You have no right to be. Every time he does visit, he’d just invite you to one of his shows under the guise of ordering whatever you tell him is the best seller of the day, and every time, you’d reject his offer. Yesterday was an exception—on a whim.

Maybe he got a revelation, thinking that he'll find it boring when he finally got you in his grasp.

It certainly doesn’t help that Lyney still hasn't come to visit the day after that, which happened to be the same day of the performance.

They canceled the show, you hear them say, from outside on the streets and even in the walls of your bakery. What a shame; I was looking forward to it.

So was I, you want to say through gritted teeth.

You knew their fame knew no bounds, but it was only then that embarrassment crept in when you realized that the show star, Lyney himself, frequented your small shop with a bouquet in hand to invite you personally. And you had the gall to reject him.

You also learn that the bakery feels much more empty without his blazing presence.

The moment you finish watching the customer exit the shop with two paper bags in their arms, you rush to fling your apron off and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’.

You don’t often leave the bakery in fear of missing out on what could be busy days, but this is more important than that. You can’t handle working idly for another hour with guilt in your stomach urging you to do something.

You must look like a sight: speeding through the pathway with a bit of flour on your clothes and a determined glint in your eyes. Only when you spot a familiar house overhead do you pause to take a deep breath.

You can do this. You need to find out what happened.

“He got sick?”

Lynette nods, sighing in defeat. “Would you like to come in? I’ll explain as I make tea.”

You glance around unsurely, feeling a little out of place. You occasionally break the heart of the brother of this woman currently inviting you inside their home. You can only hope that Lyney hasn’t been lamenting his bakery troubles to his sister.

Lynette directs you to the loveseat of their small living room before padding over to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says in her endearing ever-monotone voice.

“I’m okay, thank… you…” Your gaze catches on a picture frame on the desk beside the seat of Lyney, Lynette, and what you can only assume from stories he’s shared is Freminet. Lynette is far from the camera, staring into the distance and sipping tea. Freminet is smiling awkwardly with no teeth, and the one eye he has visible isn’t even staring at the camera. Then Lyney sits in the middle, holding the camera with two arms and a wide grin, eyes screwed shut and his face so open.

You feel as if you’ve just caught a glimpse of something so personal, and the thought of that twists your heart and pushes it to beat twice as fast as normal. You’ve never seen him smile like that before. (You briefly wonder what it would be like to see it happen personally.)

“I’ve never seen him get this high of a fever before,” Lynette says, rousing you from your trance. She hands you a cup of tea, steam emanating from the cup.

“How did he even get sick?”

“I’m not sure… It could be because of the thunderstorm yesterday—he was out at that time and came home like that. He seemed really excited for tonight, too. Lyney kept telling me that this one would be special.”

“Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You nearly choke in your first sip because of your own thoughts.

Lynette looks back up at you over the rim of her cup. “With the stress of not being able to perform tormenting him, I assume he wouldn’t be getting better in time for the show. Or at least, not tonight at all.”

“Ah,” you voice lamely. You can’t even imagine the look of pure distress on Lyney’s sweet face—it hurts to even think about it. He’s done so much for you and even promised a whole show, only to fall sick before he could make it come true.

Will he think he’s at fault for this?

With your fingernails digging crescents on your palms, you quietly ask, “…Can I come visit him? Or would that be too much?”

Lynette’s gaze sharpens a little. “Has my brother told you the truth of our identities?”

“Most of everyone found out after the trial,” you answer without missing a beat.

“And still, you choose to care for Lyney?”

Is this a shovel talk? Are you experiencing a shovel talk right now?

“He makes it hard not to,” you say weakly; it’s the truth. You’re here because Lyney, throughout his little visits, has made you care so deeply for him that you started to look forward to each visit. “…Is that a no? Was that too much of a request?”

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her face. “It’s perfect.”

The room is silent as you enter. You feel shame for visiting someone’s room without them knowing, even though you’ve been given complete permission by his own sister. Still, your face burns the closer you reach Lyney’s bed.

“Hey, Lyney,” you murmur as you kneel beside the bed. “I brought some of your favorites.”

He doesn’t respond, much to no one’s surprise. You wonder why you feel so disappointed that those lilac eyes aren’t looking at you, begging you, wooing you. Defeated, you place the bag of macarons on his bedside table, mostly an excuse to inspect his face closer.

His brows are furrowed, and a thin layer of sweat is on his forehead, even in his sleep. He looks nicer in casual clothes and his hair free from products.

A bowl of water is near his head, with a towel sitting in the bottom.

“You get really sick when you get it, huh?” you muse to no one in particular, gently wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then to his neck, where the warmth of his fever nearly burns you just by hovering close.

Lyney shifts a little. You pause with bated breath. Still, he doesn’t wake up.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, taking the bowl in your hands.

His nose is really red. You shouldn’t be finding it cute—really, what’s wrong with you recently?

But your movement brushed against the blanket over his torso and, with it, came revealing the side of his waist. His stomach is wrapped with bandages, and a spot of dried blood is seeping in on the bandage on his side.

Your eyes widen in horror, nearly making a loud, indecipherable noise before you catch yourself.

You rush to the door, finding Lynette in the same spot of the loveseat where you left her. Her eyes flick up to you, brows arched in surprise.

“Lynette, he—”

She catches on quickly. “He’s alright,” Lynette says, though her ears are curled back in distress. “He’s been given help. We knew of someone affiliated with Hydro and its healing properties. He’s alright.”

Well. Of course, she knew; she’s his sister. You can’t bear the thought of Lyney in the middle of a thunderstorm, finding himself in front of Lynette, bleeding. You feel sick just thinking about it. You can’t possibly imagine what Lynette has been going through, having to take care of her brother by herself.

You hesitate. “Can I come back here tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Wait—really?”

Lynette pauses. “Should I have not said yes?”

“I just thought you’d be a little more stern with me because of… you know…”

“I respect those who put my brother in his place,” Lynette says, then: “And those who don’t run from us when they find out what our identities are,” and that’s that.

“You brought a flower,” is the first thing Lynette says as soon as she opens the door the following morning.

“He gives me one every visit,” you explain, and you’re not quite sure why it’s humiliating to do so. “So, I want to pay him back at least this once.”

“Rainbow Rose,” Lynette notes as she shuts the door softly. You follow her into Lyney’s room, but she halts before you two can reach the door at arm’s length. “Do you know what this one means?”

You look at the Rainbow Rose nestled in your palm. It's been well taken care of since he gave it to you—all of them had been. “No, I can’t say that I do…?”

“He’s given everyone else Lumidouce Bells because this flower is a little more special.”

Lynette reaches for your hand, gently pushing the Rainbow Rose until you’re holding it against your chest.

She looks into your eyes. “That flower is like him giving his heart to you. Please, take care of it some more. Don’t give it back, okay?”

And as you mull over her words, she leaves. And left you standing in front of Lyney’s room alone, with your entire face feeling as if it’s been burnt by the sun.

But this is no time for distractions, no matter the implications. Lyney still hasn’t woken up yet, and it’s time to pay him back. He deserves that much.

“You finally feel better?”

Lyney blinks. Or, at least, he tries to, but his eyes weigh heavier than usual. He lays back down and chooses to close them back again. “Ugh…” he rasps out, “Lynette. My side is still hurting a little, but it’s much more bearable than yesterday. I thought I was about to die!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lynette says, handing him a glass of water. “You already caused quite a scene.”

“Hmmm?” Lyney answers absentmindedly, finding himself ready to fall asleep again.

“You didn’t get injured yesterday. That was five days ago. And the bakery shop owner kept coming over every day.”

Lyney’s eyes definitely open at that. “What did you say?”

Lynette’s tail flicks. “The bakery has been closed for about four days now, and no one else but I know that it’s because the person responsible for it has been here in this room instead, taking care of you. It was even on The Steambird.”

Lyney’s finding it difficult to catch up. “Wait… wait. Are you saying…”

“You made Y/N, Freminet, and I worry so much, you know,” she chides.

Lyney’s heart shatters. “Does that mean—my wound—”

“I wasn’t the one changing your bandages,” Lynette says with a tiny smile as she watches her brother’s face explode in red. “Do you still feel tired?”

“Not at all!” Lyney springs up from his bed, his grin wild and insane. His side will most definitely punish him for this, but that’s far in the back of his mind. “Ah, so Y/N does care. All my efforts weren’t in vain!”

Lynette sighs, but still stays to listen.

“And—bandaging my wounds? While I was out cold? How intimate… My heart is racing at the thought of it.” He clutches his chest, because it’s true despite his dramatics.

“I’ve never seen Y/N before; I’ve only heard of what you told me every time you came back from the bakery,” Lynette starts, urging him to lie back down. She presses a towel on his forehead, and he yelps because it feels ice-cold. “But you seem wrong about every assumption, Lyney. I know the face of someone who cares.”

Lyney falters, his expression softening impossibly. “Y/N’s not mad I missed out on the show I promised…?”

“Y/N was worried about the same thing, but in your shoes.”

Lyney hides his face with his hands, but that’s a fruitless attempt. Lynette has a clear view of his red ears. “I can’t tell if I’m elated or mortified,” he groans. “Both, perhaps?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lynette says, getting up at the same time the door swings open.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” you exclaim, though hushedly. “Lynette, I brought food to eat. Here, help yourself. Has Lyney woken up yet?”

“Oh, he…” Lynette takes your handmade lunch and glances down at her brother, briefly surprised to see him with his eyes shut and his breathing as steady as it had been when he was sleeping. “Excuse me, I want to eat.”

“Wait, Lynette—” you start, but Lynette is already walking away and eventually shuts the door. She must be very excited to eat her food.

You turn to Lyney, and the world falls silent. Lyney doesn’t know why he’s terrified of you finding out he’s awake. Was it guilt? Shame for a promised night in ruin, or humiliation for seeing him at his lowest point? He grips the sheet under the blanket tighter. His heart racing seems like it’s neither of those.

“Hello again, Lyney,” you say in a low whisper, and all of a sudden, his grip loosens, and his shoulders lose tension. “You should wake up soon. I promised Lynette I’d bake your favorite dessert if you do.”

You're not expecting any reply, ceremoniously reaching for the towel on his bedside table, like you’ve lived here as much as he has been.

The steady beat of your heart calms him, and he wonders how you aren’t hearing how fast his is beating yet.

Lyney finds himself enjoying being under your tender care, until the warmth on his side disappears and he panics instantly. His eyes fly open just in time for him to see you leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lyney slips, instinctively reaching out to hold your head in place.

You both freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed.

His thoughts race. Four days. You’ve closed the bakery shop you swore to him you wouldn’t ever abandon just for anyone—yet you did for him. You’ve been taking care of him. And kissing his cheek, for god’s sake. Four days you’ve been caring for him so sweetly, and he wasn’t awake enough to experience all of it himself.

“You’re—you’re awake!” you exclaim, your hands on both of his cheeks. “Lyney, oh, you’re— Wait, how long have you been—”

Lyney silences you with a kiss on the side of your mouth. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “You shouldn’t promise my dessert,” he says, and he winces when his voice doesn’t come out as smoothly as intended. “I don’t want any more promises to break.”

“You didn’t break any promise, Lyney,” you say softly, and he blinks when your eyes glisten. “You’re awake right now, aren’t you?”

“Then,” he straightens to sit up, grinning, “let me make it up to you. I promised you a night you would never forget, didn’t I?”

A/N not another lyney fic...

will we ever get a filler chapter or something when y/n is on her period ???

y/n and her hormonal tendencies (OR- kyoya navigating y/n’s period) (an Indeed filler chapter)

➼ pairing: kyoya ootori x reader

➼ summary: kyoya’s been doing so much research on menstrual cycles that… he forgets to listen to you and your symptoms, which aren’t universal for everyone

➼ word count: 3.5k

➼ what to expect: "You mean she's shedding her unborn children?!"

➼ warnings: not labeled as smut but talk of sex drives, masturbation (not in detail, briefly mentioned and not in the way you think lol), misogynistic period assumptions, kyoya describing periods in way too much detail

➼ chapter navigation

➼ talk to the characters!

➼ thanks so much to my beta reader for helping me out! so sorry this took so long lol

"... you're looking more angry than usual."

You groan with the roll of your tired eyes, "Thank you; I'm on my period." 

Kyoya blinks owlishly at your response, stood up straight beside his pulled-out chair as you sit in your own, chin propped on your hand and your eyes glued to the wall in front of you, eyes hooded boredly. 

Kyoya isn't one to typically assume about these types of things that pertain to you, especially out loud. Although, he'd noticed a few symptoms of premenstrual syndrome just a week before today. 

Of course, the first time you entered a cycle while you were involved, he launched himself into diligent research to be as prepared as possible. He thought that... since he was already terribly inept in several aspects of romance, additional research to ensure you're comfortable couldn't hurt in the slightest. 

Kyoya admits that most forums he encountered with men regaling their exaggerated stories of their girlfriends turning into hell-fed demons and demanding the world made him grimace for their sake. Those women would probably be a lot less 'demonic' if their boyfriends spent time tending to their needs rather than complaining about their rage on a public website. 

Kyoya knows that much, at least. 

He also knows that you're nothing similar to the girls he's read about. You're terribly withdrawn, suffering in silence, although you're sarcastic when you speak. 

He can tell that you dwell much too hard on your painful symptoms when you keep to yourself, which only serves to make it significantly worse. The mind is a terribly powerful thing. 

You're also not embarrassed about anything associated with this sort of thing, especially in Kyoya's presence. For example: the fact that you so bluntly informed him of your current condition? A telltale sign of lack of embarrassment. 

Kyoya admires that- he wholeheartedly believes that there's nothing for you or him to be disgusted about. However, he's read several accounts of men shaming their girlfriends for normal bodily functions. He rolls his eyes at those men and hopes their partners will seek companionship elsewhere. 

"Are you doing alright?" Kyoya slides into his seat beside your desk, hooking his briefcase in place. 

Your heart warms, and you manage a smile, "It's infrequent but quite unpleasant when it visits." 

Kyoya nods. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot imagine what you go through each month, but he can try his best to make you feel up to spirits.

He also realizes that there is a fragile line between caring for and patronizing you, and he often stumbles awfully close to the wrong side.

"If you... want some company; I'd be more than happy to oblige." Kyoya suggests somewhat quietly. You glance up at him through tired eyes, "Are you sure? I wouldn't be a bother?"

This is the aforementioned 'suffering in silence' that Kyoya referred to, feeling guilty for something you can't even remotely control. "Of course not; it'll be just like every other time you've come over." Kyoya shrugs, hoping to lift your spirits with nonchalance. 

"If it's alright with you, I'll visit for a bit. Should I mention that to my driver?" You reach for your cellphone to do just that, and Kyoya nods affirmatively. His family driver will simply give the both of you a lift to his estate... as he often does, anyway. 

A quick message to your driver and your ride home is canceled for something much more preferred. Brief panic enters your mind but quickly settles when you remember that Kyoya keeps a modest supply of feminine products in his medicine cabinet. Your cheeks warm to a subtle pink, a fond smile tugging at your lips. 

"What are you smirking about?" Kyoya inquires teasingly. 

You scramble, "Uh- hormones." That ought to put him off the scent. Kyoya straightens, "Ah." He doesn't say another word. 

It seems you've found your newest excuse. You turn away to hide a wider smirk. 

By the end of class, your brain is fried. If you weren't consciously trying to look normal, your eyes would be crossed toward your nose. You've long tuned out your professor, staring blankly at the wall behind him as painful sensations cloud your brain and lower abdomen. 

"... y/n... y/n?" You blink at the call of your name, owlishly glancing at your boyfriend staring down at you from beside your desk.  

"Huh?" You sit up straight, grimacing at the head rush that follows. 

"Everyone's left... you've been sitting there silently for a while," Kyoya informs, looking concerned. 

"Ah." You scratch the back of your neck, confused.

"My driver is waiting for us." Kyoya offers you his hand. Absently, you slip your hand in his and allow him to help you hoist yourself to your feet. 

Without a thought, Kyoya untangles your bag from the back of your chair and hauls it over his own shoulder, striding along ahead of you with the indication to follow him. You follow meekly in his footsteps, silently grateful for the literal weight lifted from your shoulders. Kyoya easily supports your bag while carrying his briefcase at his side. You watch his long strides with calculating, curious eyes. Before you know it, he's opened the door to his car for you. 

The movement of the vehicle during your ride to Kyoya's estate puts you at ease. Although it is, in fact, a luxury car, no automobile is without a few bumps here and the rumble of the engine there- you would know, anyway. 

The soft hum of the machinery lulls you into a comfortable silence, eyes hooded as you suddenly become increasingly exhausted. Your hands are folded neatly in your lap, ankles crossed as your neck seems to struggle to support your head. 

"Tired?" A phantom voice draws you from your daydreams. 

"Mmhm." You manage to nod, blinking slowly. 

Kyoya cracks a soft, fond smile as he watches your head bob, fighting exhaustion. The physical toll of menstruation seems to be running its thorough course through your mind and body if your heavy eyelids are anything to go by. 

The moment you arrive at his estate, Kyoya is a man on a mission. He hurries you to his room and begins rummaging through his medicine cabinet, mind running rampant with the recalled information from countless question forums, articles, and discussions of your condition. 

Although through his haste, you simply fall limp on his sofa with a sigh, cheek pressed into the cool leather as you watch him mill about. Finally, he returns with pain relievers and other necessities, "I struggled in finding specific symptom targeting medication, but I hope this will suffice." Kyoya hands you a bottle of pills. You glance at it with a frown. You're not particularly in pain at the moment, just a dull ache in your abdomen and fatigue plaguing every corner of your mind. 

"What would you say your symptoms are at this moment?" Kyoya props open his laptop along with his notebook, pen at the ready. 

"... what?" You croak from your position. 

"Just from your behavior, I would say... fatigue, headache..."

You furrow your brows as his expression turns flustered, lifting your head in question, "... what are you looking at?" You peer over at him. 

"I'm logging your symptoms into a period tracking website that I signed you up for to better track your cycle." 

Your mouth draws into a thin line, "You're what?" You almost laugh. 

"I can't possibly infer the other symptoms without your input," Kyoya hesitantly eyes the remaining, more invasive questions, "so I'll need your help. The remaining are cramps, nausea, backache, acne, cravings, tender breasts-"

"Okay, okay. Let's stick with fatigue and headache... add nausea." You groan urgently, insisting he stop early in the list. 

"Alright." Kyoya's hands fly across the keyboard, clacking. 

"What would you say your sex drive is?" 

"Excuse me?" You gawk, eyes growing wide as you manage to sit up. 

"Well, it seems to be vital information. You can choose from 'didn't have sex, protected sex, high sex drive, masturba-'"

You sputter, "Are you, my boyfriend, really asking about this?" You almost laugh with a nervous tone. 

Kyoya shrugs, "I suppose you're right.... but there are still three options to choose from-"

"Didn't have sex!" You all but yell, voice pitching with embarrassment. 

Kyoya nods, avoiding your eye as he clicks the option. 

"Let's close the website." You plead. Anyone else would label these questions as incredibly invasive, but you know Kyoya. If aware, he knows better than to make you step too far out of your comfort zone, especially around himself. 

"Suit yourself." Kyoya closes his laptop screen at your request. 

To take his and your mind off the subject of... whatever that conversation was, "I really want pasta right now." You don't mean for your voice to come out as a whine. 

"Pasta?" Kyoya parrots, eyeing you curiously. 

"You know... pasta. Linguine with clams... white wine sauce." Kyoya watches your vision become trained on the coffee table, blinking irregularly... and you might as well be drooling. 

"That can be arranged. Are you okay to wait here?" 

You nod absentmindedly. Kyoya internally shrugs and lifts himself from the sofa, trailing off down the hall from his room toward the kitchen. He pulls his notepad from his blazer and clicks his pen, muttering to himself, "Guess we're adding cravings to the list..." 

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

The first day or so of your period is the most overwhelming for you, as it is with the majority. Your hormones are completely out of sorts, and, this go-round, your stomach seems to be craving particular dishes (it's a good thing you and your boyfriend are filthy rich). Unfortunately, this is also the time that plagues you with the most physically painful symptoms. 

Kyoya has long returned with the dish you requested, and you're eagerly sat beside him, bowl raised to your mouth as you shovel the linguine noodles into your mouth with chopsticks, taking a break to crack open the occasional clam and pair it with a bite of perfectly seasoned noodles. 

"You might want to slow down before you choke," Kyoya advises cautiously, trying to gauge your reaction. 

You stop mid-slurp, blinking at him sheepishly before sucking the remaining noodles from your bite into your mouth and smiling, dabbing your lips with a cloth napkin, "I think I'm finished, anyway." You poke around with your chopsticks a few more times before setting the bowl in front of you, sighing contently. 

"My compliments to your chefs, that was amazing." You lean back slightly, eyes gently slipping shut for a moment. 

For a moment is to be emphasized. Just beside you, your cellphone begins vibrating and ringing incessantly with an all too familiar ringtone. 

Before glancing at the caller ID or photo, you press the phone to your ear, "Hello?"

"y/n! Why didn't you tell us you were suffering?!" Tamaki's shrill voice laced with panic breaches your eardrums. You sigh, "I'm sorry... suffering?"

Beside you, Kyoya can actually hear Tamaki's voice loud and clear; that's saying a lot. 

"Senpai, it's really not that big of a deal." You hear Haruhi's pleading voice in the background. You almost manage a smile. 

"Hikaru and Kaoru were telling me of the horrors!"

You scoff, thinking of the things that the twins must have told him, "I'm sure they know next to nothing." You humor him for a moment. 

"We're already on our way! You can count on the Host Club!" Tamaki says in the most chivalrous voice he can muster. 

You roll your eyes into the back of your skull, "Actually, Kyoya and his staff are managing to keep me company, but thank you for the thought." You groan. 

Kyoya's eyes grow wide and silently signal for you to stop talking before it's too late-

"Oh! You're at Kyoya's place? No matter, that's an easy reroute! Men, we're going to Kyoya's."

It's too late. Both you and Kyoya slouch in defeat. You groan in realization of what you've just done. "Tamaki, really, you don't have to-"

"Nonsense, we'll be there soon. Hang in there!" And with that, the line goes dead. Oh, you can only think of the tragedy arriving by Mercedes in just a few moments. 

"You-"

"Shouldn't have done that? Yeah... I know." You sigh exasperatedly, burying your face in your hands, feeling as though the stress of seeing them in this state would overwhelm you, but you manage to push it back down. 

To your dismay, a mere ten minutes after that disaster of a phone call, the club has arrived at Kyoya's front door. As much as the pair of you try your hardest to stop them before they wreak havoc, the maids let them in without a second thought. 

The moment Tamaki finds you in Kyoya's room, he scoops you up into his arms and presses you closely, tightly, "Thank God you're alright! We were so worried about you." 

You manage to shove him at arm's length. Just as you get the space you need, Honey is practically next in line. 

"We brought you chocolates and snacks, y/n-chan! As much as we could fit in this bag! And that one, and that one... and that one!" Honey points to four bags full to the brim with chocolates and various sweets. Craving sweets happens to be a very rare symptom of yours... and the saccharine scent is making you particularly nauseous. You do your best to hold back a retch for Honey's sake. Mori stands behind him with a large teddy bear in his arms. 

Hikaru and Kaoru stand off behind the rest of the members, barely meeting your gaze when you look up at them expectantly, "So, are you really bleeding for a whole week?" Kaoru begins. 

"Can't you just like... stop bleeding? You know, hold it in? That would make everything so much easier." Hikaru scoffs. 

You want to cry, you really do. Kyoya steps in on your behalf. 

"That's not how it works at all. You see, y/n's uterus is shedding-"

"y/n-chan is shedding? Shedding what?" Honey pipes up, brightly curious eyes glancing at everyone that towers over him. 

In the midst of heated debate and bickering, Haruhi manages to slide past them all and to your side on the sofa, carefully approaching you, "I brought you a heating pad, Senpai. They always work for me." She passes you a box with the aforementioned life saver packaged inside. 

"Oh, thank you... wow, just the thought sounds lovely." You read over the instructions carefully. 

"You have to understand, cramps are a symptom of being dilated. You know, y/n has to be at least one centimeter dilated during the entirety of menstruation." Your smart-ass boyfriend's voice can be heard when you direct your attention back to the arguing hosts. 

"YOU MEAN SHE'S GIVING BIRTH?! YOU GET THE HOT WATER, I'LL GET THE TOWELS! REMEMBER TO BREATHE, Y/N!!" Tamaki frantically searches through each and every one of Kyoya's drawers. 

"Actually-" You're cut off as more bickering ensues. 

"No, you idiot, her period actually means she's not pregnant," Kyoya calls after his dimwitted best friend. 

"Isn't that a relief?" Hikaru scoffs. 

"Wouldn't want that on your hands, right, Kyoya-Senpai?" Kaoru chuckles. 

"What actually is a period, Kyo-chan?" Honey tugs at Kyoya's blazer with innocent eyes. 

"Well, you see, the eggs that were originally meant for conceiving children are shed through the fallopian tubes and-"

"You mean she's shedding her unborn children?!" Tamaki shrieks. 

"Is that why it's like shark week?" Hikaru jests, drawing a laugh from Kaoru. 

Your cheeks grow red with heat and embarrassment. Haruhi doesn't seem to be faring much better than you. 

"Would you guys stop talking about something you'll never even experience? You have no idea what it's like for us!" Haruhi joins in on the debating and arguing, leaving you alone on the sofa to watch it all take place. 

It all sounds like intense white noise, their bickering sounds jumbled together, and you can only make out a few phrases every now and then. 

"Is there any way to save her from these horrible symptoms every month?!"

"There is one way-"

"-that you could stop it for 9 months, boss."

"Shut up, you two! You don't even know what you're talking about!" 

"You're all morons. I've actually done research on the subject and would consider myself well-versed on how to handle her in these situations. The key is not to patronize her but also to not ignore her."

You raise a timid finger, "Kyoya, could I just-"

Kyoya groans more sharply than he intends to, "Not now, y/n. Can't you see we're in the middle of something?"

His tone is laced with annoyance and the volume of his voice indicates that he's angry with you. Despite his intentions, the remark wedges a dagger into your heart and seemingly your tear ducts, as well. Your finger quickly draws back to your body as Kyoya turns away from you to continue his quarrel. 

You don't seem to be able to stop the pathetic hiccup that slips past your lips at the thought of Kyoya being angry with you, tears flooding your waterline as your chest begins to heave, feeling tight. 

Tamaki's eyes grow wide, and he taps Kyoya, "Uh... Kyoya?" He slightly shoves his friend's shoulders your way. 

"What?"

Kyoya's eyes land on your quivering lip and glassy eyes, seemingly so small, scrunched up on his sofa beneath all of them. 

"... so much for handling her."

"So was that not patronizing but also not ignoring her?" 

"Don't cry, y/n-chan!" 

"I'm okay." You don't mean for your words to come out in the whimper that they do, causing more embarrassment to flush behind your cheeks and more tears to flow, overflowing over your cheeks like a dam broke behind your eyes. 

"Come to think of it, I think Kyoya-Senpai's the only one-"

"-who's made her cry before."

"Everyone needs to leave." 

At Kyoya's command, Mori snatches Hikaru and Kaoru by their collars and drags them effortlessly from Kyoya's room, Honey following in tow as the twins adamantly protest. 

"Let's go, Senpai." Haruhi takes Tamaki’s hand and he follows compliantly, "Okay..." 

And just as suddenly as they appeared, the host club is gone, save for Kyoya standing before you, completely baffled by your reaction. 

Kyoya isn't quite sure what to do... or what you want him to do. 

"Do... you want me to...?"

"Mhm." You whine with another hiccup. 

Kyoya sweeps down toward the couch and pulls you into his arms. The floodgates swing open and you let out a sob, burying your face into his neck and inhaling with a shaking, unstable breath. Kyoya does what he feels is right, hooking a hand under your knees and pulling your legs across his lap so that you're essentially sitting side-saddle across his lap as you cling tightly to him. 

"I'm sorry, 'm sorry, I really didn't mean to-" It sounds as though you're hyperventilating uncontrollably. 

"It's okay, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry." Kyoya assures as if his gentle tone almost comes naturally to him. He smoothes a hand over your back and hushes you gently. 

As soon as you feel as though you can speak without hiccuping, "I'm not really that upset; you're just a prick. I don't know why I'm crying." You admit, sniffling. 

Kyoya chuckles, "Yes, I'm a prick. But the morons are gone, and that should fix almost everything." Kyoya smiles softly. 

"It always does." You whimper, pulling back to wipe away one of your last stray tears. 

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, y/n. I have no excuse." Kyoya cups your cheeks to assist you in wiping away tears. 

"I'm sorry I'm being such a crybaby." You giggle, urging his hands back to support you around your torso. 

"You're not a crybaby. These things happen; it's completely normal," Kyoya assures, his knowledge shining through when it's needed most. 

"Well... then, treat me like a baby and tuck me in and watch a movie with me?" You add a pathetic sniffle for effect. 

"Fine. Only because you just burst into tears and it was my doing." You and Kyoya detangle yourselves from each other as he moves to acquire a blanket, among other things. 

"What happened to it being normal?” You laugh, “Watch it, Ootori, or it might happen again. It doesn't take much." You remind with a small smile. 

"Ah, but this time I know how to prevent it." He flicks the lights off and moves toward you. 

"Indeed you do... smart ass." You say, leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

🎵I run and run a thousand miles, and I am barely breathing. Only the fuel of a passionate heart keeps this body strong and moving forward.

Could it be I found a place to rest? How far until I’m OK?

Trees of the town reveal the time has come once again to shift our shade and colors. 🎵

🎵The world always changes around us but weakness will always remain;

Through all the pain, believe in who we are right here and now! 🎵

🎵Raise one hand to the sky; raise them both lift them high!!

And you’ll cut through the darkness make it go!

The time to start is now! And I can show you how.

Start with me, and the world will be even bigger than ever before. 🎵

want to read more? here's my ouran masterlist 🌹

and here's my bts blog💜

want me to write something you want to see? request something💌

have any questions? talk to my characters!🙏🏻

Adieu~ 🌹🌹🌹

꒷♡꒷ TREAT YOU BETTER!

♰ featuring: sae itoshi + rin itoshi (mentioned) [blue lock]

♰ note: this one is a DOOSY and i'm not even kidding when i say it took me 9 hours and 45 minutes to complete this, over the course of two days of course. However, as my first time ever writing on tumblr, i decided to go all out! that being said, it would mean a lot to me if you would support this work by reading, liking, and reblogging!

sypnosis: why be with his lukewarm little brother when you could be with him instead? wc: 6.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. sae is mean. jealous!sae. bully!sae. rin is 19. sae is 21. CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut shaming. groping. implied size kink. minor angst. hair pulling. ONE face slap. pussy slapping.꒷꒦

Coming home for the holidays, birthdays, or other special occasions is somewhat of a family tradition that enables people to slow down and focus on spending quality time with loved ones. These kinds of celebrations give families that may otherwise be estranged from one another due to work or geography the chance to reunite and enjoy each other's company. And this reasoning was no different in the Itoshi household. What was the occasion for this month’s gathering? Well, it was Mama Itoshi’s birthday, of course!

You see, you have known Rin and Sae Itoshi since you were all very young. Your mothers were best friends, and by default, that meant that you three would become close as well.

Growing up with the Itoshi brothers, on the other hand, was . . . interesting, to say the least. Where Rin found your presence to be refreshing, Sae found you to be a nuisance. You didn’t care for football; you got in the way of his practice; and you were a girl. He always thought you were too weak to play with, and he didn’t hesitate to make his feelings known to you. Pulling your hair until you screamed, pushing you around when you weren’t even in his way, and calling you mean names until your little E/C eyes welded up with fat tears were just some of the things he would do to torment you. Had it not been for little Rinnie stepping in and protecting you from his brother’s outright bullying, Sae most likely would’ve continued until you cried to your mom about how mean Sae-chan was to you. But you would never do that. Your little crush on him would never allow you to get him into trouble.

Nii-chan! Don’t be too mean to Y/N. You’ll make her inner crybaby come out!

When Sae was especially cruel to you, Rin was always there to lift your spirits. He would tell you not to worry about his "meanie Nii-chan," take your hand and wipe your tears and snotty face, and lead you up to his room where you two could watch movies and play action figures away from his brother's taunts. Even if he could not take you away right away, for instance, if you three were at the park, he would always come and ride the swings or the big slides with you just to make you happy. Despite Sae’s every protest about how you were nothing more than a distraction to him, Rin, and football, you knew that your friendship was sincere and unbreakable.

As you three went through the ups and downs of childhood, you also weathered the storms of adolescence together. Sae left for Madrid, leaving you, Rin, and your previous feelings for his older brother behind to navigate the social awkwardness of junior high and share in each other's accomplishments while he was with his football team and you were at your respective clubs. Your friendship was a source of strength during those formative years, providing solace and understanding when the world seemed confusing.

As you two approached your high school years, something began to change. Accidental touches felt more like fleeting sparks, while innocent glances became lingering stares. Neither of you fully comprehended your newfound feelings, tiptoeing around the unsaid emotions that seemed to glimmer between the two of you until the day Rin asked you to be his just before entering Blue Lock. Now, for the past three years, you have been a happy couple, embarking on the dreaded hell of adulthood and the next chapter of your lives hand-in-hand.

Back in the present, the two of you were glad that Rin finally had some downtime from soccer—well . . . more so you than him. Even after the events of Blue Lock, he and Sae remained rivals, seizing any opportunity they could to humiliate each other on the field. That being said, Rin was almost always in the gym, meditating, doing yoga, or practicing his skills to pass the time. It was nice to be able to spend time together without the stress of his next upcoming game or press conference.

Because it was his mother's birthday weekend and all, she would, of course, invite her boys to come to stay with her and their father for the occasion, which included you too since you were Rin’s girlfriend. However, in the few days that you and Rin have already been at his childhood home, Sae had yet to arrive, and no one had heard from him since he texted his mother that he was on his way to the airport to depart. Regardless, the family was busy finalizing plans for their mother's big day. Mr. Itoshi was at the bakery finalizing the details for his wife's cake, Mrs. Itoshi was out for brunch with your mother, and Rin had gone for an afternoon jog because "staying cooped up all day will turn him into a lukewarm lard ass," in his words. As for you? You had just begun to rise, completing some housework in one of Rin’s old jerseys and washing the dishes on which you and Rin had just eaten a delicious breakfast.

After completing your tasks, you made your way back up the lavish stairs of their home with every intention of going back into Rin’s childhood room that you two were sharing for the weekend when you froze. Your gaze traveled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the closed door whose presence loomed in the distance—Sae’s room.

Memories from your childhood flashed back to you, of you watching him and Rin play all too violent and scary zombie video games, rewatching his matches, and, most begrudgingly, the numerous times he nudged your head with his foot and tousled your perfectly styled hair just to get a rise out of you.

Cringing internally at the past memories, you took a further step in the direction of Rin's room before hesitating once more.

It wouldn’t hurt to take a little peek inside Sae’s room, would it?

Despite your better judgment, you shuffled over the closed door and paused with your slender digits loosely encircling the handle. Your stomach churned and your heart thumped in your chest as your inner voice warned you not to enter another person's private space without their consent. But hold on—why were you getting anxious? Who was going to catch you when no one was at home? Turning the knob gently, the heavy oak door would give way with the tiniest of creaks, revealing a rather uninteresting-looking room. But given that Sae had rarely if ever, been home since junior high, it only made sense for it to be so plain. Aside from the plethora of trophies, medals, certificates, and framed photos that lined his dresser, what made it even more amusing was that those were only the leftovers from what could not fit in his trophy case beside his wooden dresser, which housed some of his youth team jerseys and junior trinkets.

You crept further into the cold room, wrapping your arms around yourself, and shuffled over to the plethora of awards from Sae's tireless efforts. As much as you weren’t fond of him, you had to admit that it was beyond admirable that a child was able to accomplish so much in so little time. He possessed a natural talent that professionals would kill for and others were envious of. Even though you were never interested in the sport, you envied him for being so naturally gifted at something he was passionate about.

“Some ‘monster genius’, huh?” You scoffed to yourself as your gaze fell on the last photo of Sae and Rin playing on the same team together before their relationship fell apart. Oh, how you miss those good old days of your youth.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

Coming from behind you, an all too familiar voice startled you out of your reverie. Turning around, your wide eyes came to rest on Sae's form, which was motionless in the doorway, his stoic visage forever unamused, and his overnight shoulder bag resting by his feet.

When did he come in?

More notably, he’s . . . changed from the last time you’ve seen him since the U-20 vs. Blue Lock game three years ago. He was a bit taller, probably around 6’2” now. Because he was wearing a long-sleeved white compression shirt and gray sweatpants, you were able to see that his muscles were more defined than before, with every ridge and curve pronounced more vividly. His maroon locks had grown a bit longer, with his fringes now reaching slightly beyond his chiseled, clenched jaw, though his bangs remained forever lopsided and flipped back. And his turquoise eyes—had they gotten even sharper since the last time you'd seen them? The way they were glowering down at you, it was almost as though they were piercing right through your very soul.

“You deaf or something, you half-brained moron?”

Your eyes rolled exasperatedly into the back of your head as he rudely interrupted your thoughts. Only ten seconds after you reconnected, here he was spewing insults your way.

“Nice to see you too, Sae.” You grumbled sarcastically, internally dreading what this weekend would hold in store for the both of you.

In response, he hummed, remaining motionless in the doorway as his teal eyes bore into you with something unknown. The truth is, while you were distracted by his physical appearance, he was ogling you in the same manner. You had grown since the last time he’d seen you when you were back in high school. Your once innocent eyes now had a glint in them that could only be described as nubile; your once round cheeks had slimmed a bit to fit your maturing features; and your body . . . Damn, have you really grown over the years. You had developed a more feminine frame, with fuller thighs, widened hips, larger breasts, and a more prominent ass. You had developed into a truly breathtaking young woman, despite how much he hated to admit it.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show at all.” You sighed, lazily checking your nails. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I live here.” His voice was deadpan and monotone, yet it held an underlying hint of irritation. “All these years have passed since grade school, and you’re still as braindead as when you were a child.”

“And you’re just as much of an asshole as you used to be.”

You resisted the urge to sneer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under your skin, as you dropped your arms to your sides. When you made this motion, his brows would furrow, and he would cast a scrutinizing glare at your choice of clothing.

Talking to him was futile, and you did not want to be in this room any longer than necessary now that he was there. “Good to have you home, genius.” You spat sarcastically, attempting to push past him to exit the room, when all of a sudden his large hand would seize your bicep, halting your steps.

Your head snapped to him, your gaze a mixture of frustration and confusion as your lips parted to shout a rebuttal his way; however, upon seeing the blazing fire that had ignited in his eyes, you hesitated. His eyes narrowed to thin slits, like two fiery coals burning fiercely within his sockets. The intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down your spine, making you acutely aware of the gravity of his sudden wrath. His jaw clenched tightly, showing the strain of controlling his rage, and his brows furrowed, forming a menacing V-shape above his oculars.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He seethed through clenched teeth, his voice deep and full of poorly contained malice.

You blinked. Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him, beyond perplexed. He had caught you so off guard that even you had to check what you were wearing to make sure you were not wearing anything objectionable. Nothing worth offending—fuzzy black pajama shorts that hugged your plush thighs, plain slippers, Rin's worn-out football jersey.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you coy little slut.”

That silenced you effectively. Your eyes enlarged—almost lamblike—and your pretty lips drew in a subtle gasp. Any previous spark that had been ignited within you had quickly diminished, choosing silence over tossing more gasoline onto Sae’s roaring flames.

It appeared as though his entire being was directing his wrath into his single, piercing gaze as every muscle in his face tightened with each passing second. His lips, which are typically flat or curved into an unamused frown, were now deep-set, corners tugging into an awful scowl.

“Why are you wearing that lukewarm loser’s jersey?” When you should be wearing mine?

Now it was your turn to be infuriated as he insulted your boyfriend—his brother—the same person he had thrown out like garbage all those years earlier. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could hear your blood pumping in your ears.

“So I’m not allowed to wear my own boyfriend’s jersey now, fuckface?” His gaze faltered. “You going to call me names for that too, Sae? Pull my hair? Spit in my face? Huh?”

“*What did you just say?”

“I said are you going to—”

“No, you cow-titted bimbo. The first thing you said.” He leaned in closer to your face, his eyes owlish and unblinking since you opened your mouth. You could smell his minty breath from the gum he had been chewing wafting into your face, “Say it again.”

“I’m not allowed to wear my boyfriend’s jersey?” You repeated, confusion etching your tone.

“That.” He snarled, his voice elated in a sick way, as though he had just found out the answer to some legendary riddle.

The hand that had been gripping your bicep now violently jerked you to the side, shoving you into his door. Before you had time to react, he crowded your personal space as his forearm pressed against the wood above your head, allowing you to smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne. “When did that happen?”

The initial fire that fueled his rage now transformed into a different kind of heat, a simmering and bitter envy that gnawed at his insides. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions - on the one hand, he was somewhat happy that his blockhead of a brother managed to get a girlfriend, but on the other hand, it was you. The same girl that he had been pining over since you were first introduced to him all those years ago. The same girl that he thought was prettiest when she pouted at him with fat tears in her eyes and pleaded with him to be nicer to her. The same girl that consumed his thoughts 24/7. The same girl that he jerked his cock to at night after seeing how her fat tits in that all too small jersey bounced every time she cheered for his brother at that stupid game against Blue Lock. The same girl that, on all of those lonely nights overseas, he wished that, instead of fucking his fist, he was pummeling himself deep in your sopping wet cunt. The same girl that he was about to ruin before his brother got home from his whereabouts.

“Before Blue Lock . . .” Your voice was hushed, barely above a whisper, as though you were afraid of awakening a savage beast.

Three years. Three fucking years, and no one told him?! Not his mother, not his father, not Rin, not your stupid little social media (that he may or may not have been stalking) where you posted pictures of cats, candid photos of your friends, or whatever the fuck you got at your local coffee shop that day—not even you.

His once-obvious fury and visceral expression subsided, simmering beneath the surface in a contained inferno that burned with a ferocity few could fathom. Despite the turmoil raging inside him, he remained eerily calm, his stoic facade masking the storm within.

His demeanor exuded a cold, steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine and, quite frankly, took your breath away. There was an ominous sense of stillness in his presence, as if the air itself dared not disturb the calmness he projected.

“. . . Do you love him?” He spoke in hushed tones, each word enunciated with precision and purpose. There was no need for loud outbursts; the intensity of his calmness alone was enough to make you cower beneath him.

You were dumbfounded by his question, powerless to respond, and yet the longer you remained silent, the more you could see the cracks in his facade begin to scorch through his surface.

“D-Don’t be stupid, Sae. Of course I do, he’s my—”

You would never be able to finish your statement quick enough before his hands were on you, meaty palms digging into your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp as he grabbed a visceral hold onto your roots. The searing pain and astonishment coursing through your frame had you shrieking—in what? You didn’t know. Fear? Agony? Guilt?

Using his grip on you as a lead, he would tug you forcefully out of your slippers and down the hall to somewhere unknown. He ignored your screams as the weight atop your head forced your sight to the ground, your manicured nails digging into his wrist and clawing in an attempt to be freed.

“S-Sae, I-I’m sorry! Please, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

He said nothing, his heavy and deliberate footsteps speaking for him before he paused a short distance later. He threw you forward carelessly with surprising strength, causing you to land painfully on the wooden floors in front of you, barely having time to brace yourself with your palms. You had no time to catch your breath, though, as he shuffled over to you with fast-paced footsteps. Looking up fretfully, you would see Sae towering over you, taking notice that you were now on the floor of Rin’s room just before his bed.

“Sae—”

“Sae! Sae! Don’t be stupid; I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He openly mocked you, his lip curled into the faintest of sneers as he glowered down at you in hatred. Although even you could see that there was a bit of hurt behind his cruel teal eyes, “All you do is flap those pretty fuckin’ lips of yours, never knowin’ when to shut your stupid little trap.”

He relished in the way your bottom lip trembled and your eyes grew glassy, the same way they used to all those years ago.

“Still a little crybaby too, I see. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be sorry soon enough for leading me on all this time.” He grumbled, lunging for you again.

He snagged at your roots again, drawing a sob from your lips as he mercilessly dragged you to your feet. Releasing his grip on your hair, he instead chose to grab your jaw harshly in his palm, using his thumb and forefinger to squish your cheeks and pucker your lips so that he may smash his lips against your own. It was messy, sloppy, and full of passion and rage on Sae’s end. He smeared your gloss, claimed your brims, and forced his tongue into your pretty, pliant mouth, all with the intention of claiming you and your maw for his own—but you would never let him.

You belong to Rin! You were loyal to him! So then, why do Sae’s lips feel so damn good against your own right now? This was wrong. So, so wrong, and yet, why did you want more of him?

Your mind was cloudy. Your head was spinning. You couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating you. Your dainty fists beat at his beefy chest and shoulders, trying to get him to get off of you, but to no avail. Instead, he seized both of your wrists in the grasp of his other hand and squeezed painfully in a warning, forcing you to whine against his lips—a delightful sound that went straight to his hardening bulge that he shamelessly pressed against you, grinding sinfully against your hips.

When he finally pulled away from you, you clearly appeared dazed. Your eyes were half-lidded and glassy, yet you were silently pleading for him to give you more. Your plump lips had swollen from his being pressed so forcefully against your own, and a singular strand of saliva still connected your lips to his own—one which he would sinfully lick away with a salacious swipe of his tongue.

The hand he used to grab your face gently shook your head back and forth, his sadistic turquoise hues savoring your already fucked-out expression. “There’s the greedy bitch I know and love. Finally decided to show yourself, huh? What? You want more, hm? What about your little boyfriend, princess?”

“R-Rin . . . I love, Ri—” You were cut off when Sae’s expression flared, his hand releasing your face for naught but seconds before connecting with your cheek in a hard slap. You squealed from the impact, your head whipping to the side in shock, but you could not help but feel strangely aroused by the contact. He grabbed your cheeks in his palm once more and tightened his hold on your face, bringing you closer to him until you were nose to nose.

“Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” He snarled as he cut his eyes at you. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at me after all these years, like you wanted me? Or that I haven’t overheard your stupid little conversations about how dreamy you think I am to your friends, huh? Or how about now, when you swear up and down that you love my loser little brother, when here you are already going stupid on me when I’ve barely even touched you?”

You clenched your eyes shut as hot, guilty tears rushed behind your lids. He’s right. You've wanted him—always have—but it was too late now. You were with Rin, and he was the love of your life. You could not possibly change that, could you?

“Just say it, Y/N.” He chided, his voice softer than it was before, yet it still held it’s cold, irritated undertone. “Say you want me, and I’ll make you feel better than that lukewarm little shit ever has.” He released your face and smoothed his thick digits over the top of your head, stopping only when he could rest his fingers beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him. Your gaze focused on him once more.

“ . . . I want you, Sae. B-But Rin . . . ”

Sae hushed you again, pressing his lips against yours. How badly he wanted that name to never again be uttered by your lovely tongue. When Sae pulled away again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“We’ll be quick, okay?” A lie. He was going to take his time fucking his brother’s name out of your memory. “He’ll never suspect a thing.”

Your apprehension was palpable, but ultimately you would succumb to sin and let desire and greed rule over logic and reason. You nodded, giving him the nonverbal go-ahead to stomp on the accelerator and never let up.

“Good girl.” He praised you, both hands abandoning your face to now grip at the collar of your shirt. In one swift motion, he ripped Rin’s jersey clean off of you from down the middle. “About time we got that shit off of you. The sight of it was makin’ me sick.” He spat as he tossed the tattered fabric over his shoulder.

You were not wearing a bra, so the violent motion had your breasts bouncing free after being momentarily released from their confines, allowing them to slap softly against the flesh of your rib cage—much to Sae’s viewing pleasure. You grew sheepish as he seemed to freeze, staring so brazenly at your bare breasts that you began to feel a bit self-conscious. Was something wrong? Did he not like them? Was he expecting more? Less?

In reality, the answer was none of the above. The midfielder swore under his breath as he shoved you back onto Rin's cozy comforter. He hastily climbed on top of you and used his body weight to pin you against the bed as his lustful hands began to grope and knead at your supple flesh, eliciting precious mewls with each delightful squeeze. His lips would latch onto one of your breasts as he dipped his head downward; the thumb and forefinger of his free hand would play with the other, teasing your nipples. His sharp teeth bit greedily over the delicate areola as his tongue flicked and laved over the hardening buds. The stimulation only served to heighten your arousal, as evidenced by the way you wailed his name like a sweet song meant only for his ears and how your thighs squeezed together from your excitement drooling from your folds.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sae, who was busy alternating between pleasuring both of your breasts and growling under his breath, “Lewd fuckin’ body. S’all mine . . .” When he pulled away, there were visible marks left in his wake—light red splotches and indentations of hungry teeth imprinted on your skin.

He reached for the hem of his compression shirt and lifted it above his head, tossing it off to the side as he sat above you, staring lustfully down at you. He would manhandle you further after sliding off of your body. He pulled your shorts down in one motion, grabbed your thick thighs by the backs of your knees, and pushed them up towards your breasts. When he did, he couldn’t help but whistle, admiring how your puffy folds clung together and your inner thighs remained sticky from your translucent arousal.

“Has he ever made you wet like this?” Sae inquired, leering at you from between your thighs like a hungry lion with it’s eyes set predatorily on a helpless gazelle, to which your gaze would quickly avert. You and Rin had such a strong emotional bond that you never felt the need for frequent sex between you two. There were a few times, though, when Rin would fuck you after a winning game in a way that made you see stars, but those were always very far apart.

Your silence was all Sae needed for his answer. He crept back up onto you, chuckling sardonically as he held your thigh up with one hand, using his body to keep your other spread apart. He wanted to see all of your pretty expressions up close and personal when he ravished you. Swiping two of his fingers between your folds, the sudden motion caused your hips to jerk into his touch and you to keen with need.

Slowly, he inserted a single digit inside of you, hissing at how your walls selfishly gripped his fingers and eagerly tried to devour more of him. “Loosen up, will you, greedy slut?” He slapped your thigh with his other hand as your back arched with pleasure. “This tight pussy will never be able to take my cock at this rate.”

You tried to loosen up, you really did, but there was something so delicious—so tantilizing—about his thick, calloused fingers caressing your velvety walls that made you crave more of him. He continued to thrust his single digit inside of you, his teal oculars peering into your own with such intensity that it forced you to look away.

“Stop that.” His hand that grabbed the back of your knee slithered along your outer thigh until he could grasp your chin and force you to look back at him. “Eyes on me.” He ordered, to which you would nod dumbly amidst your pleasured mewls.

You felt the delightful stretch of another of his thick fingers pressing into your sopping cunt, thrusting in tandem with his previous one, as he leaned closer to you and his lips just barely touched your own.

“S-Sae, mmph, more, please, please, touch me more.” You begged, bringing a sinful smirk to the midfielder’s lips.

Unexpectedly, he would comply with your requests, pressing the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit and rubbing quick, pleasurable cricles with his fingers as he arduously sought out that sweet, sweet spot inside of you. You could not help but start sobbing his name, his thick fingers filling you to the brim even though he had yet to stuff his cock into you. Each time he curled upward inside of you, his impeccable skill had you gasping for reprieve.

It was nothing like Rin’s. His fingers were slightly thinner than his brother’s, but they were a tad longer too, able to reach the deepest spots within you without even trying. Sae's immense precision and experience, which allowed him to know exactly where your sweetest spots lay within you, made up for his lack of length.

“ . . . Are you seriously thinking about him right now?”

You were startled out of your reverie by his curious tone and thinly veiled anger. You tried to focus on his hardened features through your daze, but you couldn’t. The knot in your tummy tightened, and you felt an enormous wave of pleasure wash over you. Something big was coming, and you could feel it reverberating all throughout your core.

“He could never make you feel this good, could he? Never get this pretty cunt this wet for him, hm?” All throughout his monologue, you could hear the sinful squelching of your juices soaking his palm, dripping down his wrist, and splattering onto the floor. You were a mess beneath him. He would abuse that rough patch just along your upper walls until your toes clung to the sheets in ecstasy.

“M’sorry, m’sorry!” You mewled, breath coming out in short, high-pitched pants as you writhed under him, his pace increasing as he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“Who’s making a mess of you right now? Huh? Speak up, princess; let me hear you say it.”

“—You, Sae! You, you, you! Hah, please, I-I can’t . . . ! I-I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers. Make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did just that. Your body went rigid for naught but a second before your back was arched into him, and your head tossed itself back into the pillows as a chorus of unabashed wails of your release erupted from your pretty, drooling lips. Your release was immense—loud—as a gushing of juices from your pussy thoroughly drenched the sheets, Sae’s sweatpants, his abs, and his entire forearm.

You squirted. For him. For the first time ever.

It was uncharacteristic how an almost feral grin twisted on Sae’s lips, his fingers removing from your sopping cunt to place a few well-directed slaps on your far too sensitive and overstimulated pussy.

“Atta’ fuckin’ girl. Can’t believe my baby brother was keeping such a sweet little succubus all to himself—selfish bastard.”

You couldn’t even hear him; your chest was rising and falling heavily as tears of pleasure ran down your cheeks (and thighs).

“Hey, hey. You still with me?” His tone was soft, his typically impassive visage now meeting your own with furrowed eyebrows and a tinge of concern behind his bright hues.

You nodded—it was all you could muster at this moment, but it was good enough for Sae. He brought his soaking hand to your parted lips, lightly tapping the digits on your plump flesh in a silent command for you to clean him off. He chuckled. Your lithe tongue and eager brims slurped, licked, and sucked your mess off of his thick fingers that were now shoved down your throat without you even needing to be told what to do.

“You wanna do that again for me? On my cock this time, pretty?”

You were exhausted, your body already aching beneath him, but you still craved more from him. Another meek nod was given, your dazed eyes meeting his only to utter around his fingers, words garbled from his fingers on your tongue, “Wantha’ squirth’ awound ya cahwk.”

That was all Sae needed to hear as he stepped off of the bed, making quick work to discard his soaked sweatpants and boxers into the growing pile of clothes at the base of the bed. His large hands grabbed your soft hips, tugging you toward him with ease as he flipped you onto your hands and knees. He let out a growl, his hand raising to smack your plump ass once, then twice, on both of your cheeks before taking big, greedy handfuls of your flesh into his ravenous palms. This was undoubtedly already his favorite thing about you.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Sae placed your body horizontally across the mattress with your head facing the door. With a forceful push of your face down into the sheets, your view of the room instantly became obscured. You craned your neck back, peering at Sae from over the arch of your back as he grabbed one of your fat cheeks in one hand and used his other to line his cock up with your entrance. He slapped his heavy cock against your folds, his blossoming mushroom tip connecting with your throbbing clit making you both keen with ecstasy.

He couldn’t wait any more. He needed to be inside of you. He entered your drooling cunt with a single, calculated push, and your fluttering walls were already trying to devour more of him in response to the intrusion. Sae groaned as his hips met the flesh of your ass once he was buried to the hilt inside of you. His head lulled back as he dug his blunt nails into your flesh.

For the past three years, this—this right here is exactly what he had been craving, yearning over, and lusting for—and now he had it. He nearly came from the feeling inside of you alone, though; he’d be damned if he let the fun stop there.

A steady pace was quickly established by the midfielder's hips, and his long, deliberate strokes were deep enough to feel in your tummy and cause your toes to curl up in pleasure. Having had such a powerful orgasm not even minutes earlier, you were still fairly sensitive; however, that only made things all the more enjoyable.

“O-Oh my god, y-your cock, it’s t-too much, I-I can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you can’t, you cock-loving slut.” He snapped at you, cutting your pleas short with a sharp thrust of his hips. The rhythmic plapping of your ass against his pelvis resonated off the walls of the bedroom, lewdly ringing in your own ears. “This is everything I—we’ve—been wanting for years. Don’t tell me that now, all of a sudden—” He paused, groaning deeply through gritted teeth as you clenched around him. “—That this pretty pussy can’t take anymore when you’re gripping me so desperately.”

“B-But Sae, i-it feels too good! Like I’m . . . I’m gonna make a mess again!” You whined.

He thought it was adorable that even in the most deplorable and deprived of acts, you still attempted to hold some semblance of modesty. Oh, how you were both far past that.

If anything, that just fueled his aggression. He used your words as justification to pummel your poor pussy harder and faster, putting both of his hands on your hips and lower back and pressing his weight against you to force you into an almost painful arch as his pelvis slammed into your ass. Your vision went blurry from his unforgiving pace, and your throat went raw from your cries and screams of pleasure.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” He grunted in between thrusts, a hand raising to land a furious smack on your ass that caused you to mewl and your tiny fists to grip the sheets.

“Y-You, Sae! You are! Ngh, plea—”

“And who’s cock do you like better, huh, princess? Me or that lukewarm fuckface’s?”

You hesitated, but only for a millisecond, as you felt the blunt head of his cock caressing your sweet spot, pummeling into you over and over as your thighs began to shake, growing unable to hold yourself up from the stimulation. His thrusts faltered as his cock twitched inside of you. You figured he was close too.

“Yours, y-yours! Your cock feels so good, I-I’m gonna cum again! I’m ngh gonna cum all over your f-fuck-ing cock!”

He let out an almost animalistic groan, something between a chuckle and a feral snarl, “Yeah, princess? You really mean it?” He moved one of his hands to your hair, threading his fingers through it without yet pulling, almost as if he were waiting for your response.

Your response was almost instantaneous, and the adorable chorus of incoherent babbles and cries of "yes, yes, yes" left your head spinning. You had the sensation that you might pass out completely.

Your head was abruptly yanked out of the pillows, and your gaze was once again forced upward. Your eyes, albeit blurry and glassy, caught sight of the all-too-familiar figure standing in the doorway. Sweat dribbling from his forehead while dressed in a white windbreaker and sweatpants to protect himself from the elements during his jog, stood the one person who filled you with dread.

Rin.

He was back.

As your eyes locked onto the all-too-memorable teal ones boring into your own, your moans ceased. The logic and reason that you had previously dismissed for giving into your desires came flooding back. Guilt, which had been gnawing at the pit of your stomach, reared it’s ugly head once more.

He caught you.

With his brother.

The realization of your actions, the feeling of knowing that you hurt someone you cared deeply about and promised your life to, left you reeling. The enormity of the situation left you speechless and unable to respond.

As the shock slowly gave way to the depths of your despair, tears welled up in your eyes, this time of anguish. Your ability to control your emotions ran out, and you began to sob, letting the tears run down your cheeks. Each tear that ran free was weighed down by guilt and regret.

All the while, Sae never stopped thrusting behind you. Almost as if he remained unfazed by his brother’s—your boyfriend’s—sudden appearance.

“R-Rin—”

“—Save it.”

His initial shock, disbelief, and hurt gradually gave way to something else. He was angry, searing with anger as malice began to rise within him, a blaze of fury that threatened to consume him. Though he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at . . . Sae?

“You told me you would wait until I got back, Nii-chan.”

The air left your lungs.

. . . What?

Using the grip from your hair, Sae pulled you back into him, pressing your body flush against his own as he craned your neck back into an awkward angle, forcing your gaze to meet his own. A dark and unsettling satisfaction crept into his expression, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. His eyes sparkled with a perverse delight, reveling in the twisted pleasure he derived from your adorably bewildered and anguished expression.

Your breath hitched.

Your mind raced for answers.

Sae’s gaze lazily tore from your own and to Rin's, who still remained in the doorway, the forward’s eyes sinfully burning into the way your breasts bounced sinfully from each of Sae’s now slow, agonizing thrusts.

"You know, little brother, it is not too late to join in on the fun."

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

if this gets enough attention, i may make a part two!

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐫... (𝟏𝟖+)| 𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊

ft. Alexis Ness

∗  ˖࣪ ໒꒱  ˚₊· synopsis: Alexis wanted you to be meaner, so you gave him your meaner.

･ﾟﾟ･｡　wc:1,2 k + warnings- mdni, nsfw content, f!reader, femdom!reader/sub!alexis, pro player(20+), 20+ characters, petnames(good boy), nipple play (m! receiving), friends w benefits relationship, cum-eating, slight edging, dry nursing.

----------------------------- ☆ -----------------------------

“Can you be meaner…. like Kaiser?” That question took you by surprise. Alexis’ figure stood in front of you; expectant eyes, biting his mouth and clenched hands at his side.

You raised an eyebrow, staring at the man still waiting for the answer. It wasn’t strange for Alexis to come and ask you for things since the three of you had a ‘friends with benefits’ situation, but something inside of you snapped when compared to Michael.

Michael was him and you were you, much worse if you wanted to.

“Like Micha or like... me?” You uncrossed your legs and crossed your arms below your breasts, pressing them together and Alexis swallowed dryly, his eyes glued to your breasts.

“…Like you, how?” He asked, and you huffed a laugh, tapping a hand on your legs for Alexis to sit down.

It was all it took for you to start with a calm kiss. Pulling his lower lip and hands moving up into his shirt, stopping as it reached his neck, showing his nipples, and you flicked them.

It didn’t last long and Alexis squirmed in your lap, hands clasped in your hair as your mouth sucked on his left nipple willingly and his right was pinched between your fingers.

Alexis’s voice came out muffled. He was probably biting his mouth, and you didn’t like silent men.

“A-ah!” You smiled against his body, still focused on his nipple, now circling with your tongue and scratching the other. “Please...”

You let go of the nipple, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the hard bud, glistening red in saliva. “Eh, please, what?” You used both hands to stimulate his nipples, making him dangle his head back, moaning.

You did the same thing to the other nipple, making it hard from so much biting, sucking and licking, amused by Alexis’ grunts, stirring in your lap.

Alexis’ trembling hands wrapped around your strands and pulled, trying to pull your head away from his body, but his waist swayed against your belly and breasts, the marked bulge in his shorts showing that he didn’t want to stop.

“Please! Please!” Alexis’ sobs competed with moans and gasps each time you pulled his nipples with your teeth and went back to sucking and licking, giving attention to both of them, making Alexis gasp and bounce into your lap.

“I can’t take it anymore... Oh! Please!”

At some point, he leaned back, and you got your nails on his back, holding him in place, not stopping to play with him.

It had been a while since you’d been in this and Alexis was just sobbing, a few tears falling down his face, but it didn’t stop you from leaving his nipples raw flesh, smeared with saliva and aching from the attention.

You were sure they ached and burned just from the way Alexis shuddered, lost in pleasure and pain, occasionally pushing his waist against your body. His cock hurt too; hard and bound by his clothes, his tip a strong red expelling thick pre-cum and its shaft throbbing, begging for attention. You dug your nails into his backs, eyes rolling in pleasure as you imagined the scene.

Alexis grumbled, jerking his waist as he felt your hand groping his bulge, your mouth still glued to a nipple.

“This right here is begging for attention...” You blew a laugh against his chest and tightened his dick print, making him shrink in pain. “Do you want attention here, too?”

“Y-Ah!... Oh! Yes! Yes!” Alexis breathed heavily, moaning with each squeeze you gave, feeling his cock throb.

You slid your hands down his thick thighs and effortlessly lifted him up, laying him on the nearest surface. Alexis could be so weightless sometimes and you loved it.

You pushed away the strands stuck to his forehead with sweat, placing a little kiss on his red cheeks, wet with tears. The magenta eyes glowing, red face, the mouth swollen, heavy breath, and the shirt up to his neck, showing the white skin with the marks you left on the red-glowing nipples.

Oh, Alexis was so cute when broken by you, or even by Michael.

You made room in the middle of his legs, rubbing your belly against his bulge, watching him close his eyes and moan.

“You’re so hard, Ness...” You ran your hands up his legs, your nails following in a line of goosebumps as you pressed against him. “I bet you can cum without touch.”

Alexis opened his eyes; the beautiful hooded eyes begging you not to torture him anymore. He opened his mouth and let out a strangled moan as you pressed your fingers into his hard, aching nipples.

“What should I do, Alexis?” You whispered against his ear, nibbling on his lobe. “Should I be kind like me or mean like Micha?”

He shuddered, his waist lifting and his mouth a little scream with your knee pressing against his cock.

“Huh?” You kissed his neck, jaw, cheek, nose, and lips, biting until he grumbled in pain. “Tell me, Alexis.”

You were usually nice to Alexis and mean to Michael, especially when he was being a brat. But being compared or asked to be like Michael was something that made the worst of you awaken.

“Gentle! Gentle! Please, y/n! Please!” Alexis’ raspy, desperate voice made you smile, resting your head on his pectoral and stopping the movements of your knee.

“Yes, maybe I’ll.” You kissed him, sticking your tongue in rudely while pinching his nipples and back rubbing your knee on his cock. Alexis grumbled against your mouth, kissing you just as hard, but the hot tears fell as he squirmed against your body.

He asked you to be mean, so that’s what you would give him.

The wet sound of the kiss, the hot, heavy breaths, the noise of the friction of your bodies and the muffled noises of Alexis, who grabbed your arms but didn’t pull away from his sensitive nipples and his waist rolled against your knee.

The position was uncomfortable for you; it was better to stand in the middle of his legs, hands pulling him closer by his tights, gluing his cock with your pelvic bone and going back to sucking his nipples like you were a big hungry baby.

It was too much sensation for Alexis’ sensitive body that reacted on instinct, locking his legs around your waist and rolling against you.

You smiled against his mouth and pushed against his waist, simulating thrusts, making him gasp and squint.

Alexis was a great submissive, breedable good boy, and like the good boy he was, it didn’t take long to cum in his pants, moaning loudly against your puffy lips.

“Good boy.”

You gave a little kiss and pulled away from him, watching him shiver all over and his gaze lost in pleasure. You lowered his pants, showing off the white sticky cum and ran your hand over his cock, wiping the cum as best you could and taking it to your mouth, licking your fingers as you stared into the magenta eyes glued to you.

“I hope you liked my meaner, Ness.” You said, putting his clothes in place and leaving him alone, calming down from the intense orgasm your meaner self gave him.

----------------------------- ☆ -----------------------------

© iwashie 2023, please do not translate, modify or republish my works

“Baby, I promise I was kidding.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rintaro.”

“‘Rintaro?’ Baby, it was a joke! If I knew it would actually make you upset, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Your eyes are watery and pouty when you look at him, and he blinks down at you expectantly. Then you huff, “of course I’m upset! It’s a sign of disrespect.”

Rintaro groans and squats down in front of you, head moving back and forth to keep his eyes locked on yours as you try to move your own gaze, “baby, I swear, I didn’t mean it, I thought it would make you laugh.”

He never thought hitting your Pompurin plush would have you in such shambles. You’ve been ignoring him all ride with a small grimace on your lips, playing with Pompurin’s arms and tiny feet, sometimes answering questions about what’s on the tag. You’re deadset on ignoring him. It’s destroying him.

With a small sigh, he leans up to try and plant a kiss to your lips, despite the fact that the last thing he’d think you’d want is a kiss. It’s something he knows you adore, though, he hopes you see through your anger to see him.

You do pout out slightly to try and chase his lips, and it fills him with relief.

“It was pretend, baby,” he mumbles, trying to convince you. “I’d never mean to hit him, I was pretending to be mad that he’d take you away from me.”

Well. It was only half pretend.

But you don’t need to know that.

You gently twist pompurin’s ears in your fingers, shrugging and shaking your face from his hands slightly. “You hurt my feelings Rin.”

Once again, he grabs your chin, leaning up to press another kiss to your lips. “I know, baby. I thought it’d be funny.”

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m so sorry-“

“Not to me,” you grumble. “To him!” You hold up the new pompurin plush, and Rintaro tucks his lips in his mouth to hide the annoyed sigh that wants to slip out.

Annoyed, albeit still endeared.

Green eyes hyper fixate on the doey eyes of pompurin, smacking his lips and nodding in respect. “I’m sorry, Pompurin. I never should’ve hit you. And I hope you’ll consider forgiving me and taking care of them while I’m at practice.”

In his peripheral, he sees you smile, your fingers shifting to move pompurin’s head to nod.

“Thank you for apologizing,” you say as you lower the new plush animal. “I love you.”

He smirks and leans forward one final time to kiss you, and you giggle in the kiss and toss your arms around his neck.

If he could guarantee you’d always be this affectionate after, he’d playfully smack all your stuffed animals.

a/n: no comments. Just love charles sm + enjoy the oneshot.

Charles Chevalier x Reader !

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Unusualness.

Charles Chevalier was used to attention.

Everywhere he went, people naturally gravitated toward him—drawn in by his golden hair, sharp features, and confident, teasing personality. He was charming, after all. A natural flirt, always throwing in a wink or a well-placed compliment that made people flustered.

But then there was you.

The quiet girl who always sat by the window, minding her own business, unfazed by his antics. While others melted under his gaze, you barely reacted. And that? That drove Charles insane.

So, naturally, he made it his mission to get a reaction out of you.

“Mademoiselle y/n,” Charles drawled as he slid into the seat beside you, his light yellow eyes practically glowing with mischief. “You look absolutely stunning today.”

You barely glanced up from your book. “You say that every day, Charles.”

“Because it’s true every day,” he shot back smoothly.

You sighed, turning a page. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Charles smirked. “Why would I, when my favorite person is right here?”

You gave him a look—one that wasn’t annoyed, but more like… unamused acceptance. Charles was persistent. Too persistent. He had been like this since day one, constantly throwing compliments your way, waiting for the day you’d finally crack and give him the reaction he wanted.

But you never did.

At least, not in the way he expected.

Because one day, as he was going on about how lucky the school was to have “such a breathtaking beauty within its walls,” you finally spoke up.

“If I’m so breathtaking, why are you the one who’s always speechless?”

Charles froze.

You blinked at him, waiting for his usual smooth comeback, but it never came. Instead, he just… stared at you, lips slightly parted, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

Oh.

Oh, this was fun.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you teased, tilting your head. “Did I finally win?”

Charles cleared his throat, leaning back as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “Mon dieu… You wound me, y/n.”

You smirked. “I thought I was breathtaking?”

His eyes flickered with amusement, and then—he laughed. A genuine, lighthearted laugh that made your chest feel strangely warm.

“You are,” he admitted, golden eyes meeting yours. “And that’s exactly why I’m speechless.”

Your smirk faltered for half a second. But Charles caught it.

And this time, you were the one who looked away first.

Much to his delight.

End.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Thank you for reading ! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

★ silly stickers — itoshi rin

꠴ itoshi rin x fem!reader

content: established relationship, mentions of bruises and fights, stickerzz!!

"you're silly."

rin doesn't respond, as he has the last two times you've said that. aside from your occasional repeated comment, the only sound filling your small kitchen was the clattering of rin's chopsticks against the bowl in front of him, and the sticker sheets that fill the rest of the table.

with a bored pout on your face, you peel off a particularly glittery sticker, not hesitating to boop it right over his bandaged nose. "silly."

his eyes lift from his food to glare at you, which is also what he's done for the past three— now four times you've called him that. the two of you stare at each other silently before you break the eye contact, peeling off a heart sticker and smacking it right on his forehead. after all, it's kind of difficult to find him intimidating when his cheeks are stuffed with food.

right when you were going to pull your hand back, he grabs onto your wrist, stopping you midair. "stop it." his voice sounds slightly muffled to your ears as he's shoved whatever was in his mouth into one cheek.

"why?" you shimmy your arm out of his grasp, picking up another fresh sheet. "you didn't stop when i told you not to get into another fight."

silence. that one got him.

three seconds pass. rin's eyes narrow at you, then averting his gaze as he continues chewing. the air didn't feel as tense as you thought it would be, as if rin's managed to find a way to telepathically communicate that he's sorry in some way.

he really is silly, getting hit in the face like that. is he not worried about injuries? is he not worried that his poor attempts at hiding the bandage would cause his own girlfriend to be so pissed at him? seriously... you don't even want to imagine what that bruise looks like right now.

and here you are, using stickers to take out your frustration. "silly, silly, silly." your insults are starting to sound more sweet, lips curling from how cute he looks being all grumpy.

your canvas knows no bounds as his face runs out of space, expanding to his neck and hands. he can only sit there and endure your "punishment", because he'd rather have stickers all over him than have you genuinely upset with him.

a/n: plot? whats that? we dont need that...

'cat' the son | itoshi rin

( a/n ) when i came back the poll was 50/50 so i got bribed and it’s now decided that rin is the winner + little highschool au bc we all know they dropped out:/ idk what to title this im ngl

there’s a cat on the sidewalk.

you have about six dollars in your hand, a faltering mission to treat yourself to a cold drink, and an aching heart at the sight of the little animal seated like a king on concrete, looking up at you with blank eyes.

its dark fur and near-teal eyes remind you of someone. of a back facing your seat, dark hair always kept neat and looking like it’s conditioned meticulously, and the sharpest eyes you have ever seen on a high schooler.

it has been a long day, long enough for you to have stormed out of the room as soon as classes ended to rush to the nearest shop that would sell what you’re craving. alas, there is a cat on the sidewalk, and you can’t just ignore it.

“stay here, kitty,” you say before rushing off with the six dollars in hand and a new goal to head straight to the nearest sign with an animal cardboard cutout printed on it.

eventually, you find one; eventually, you come out of the store holding cat food and a tiny cat bowl because you were worried about letting the cat eat straight from the can. it’s baby blue with little fishes added as design, though you think it’s rather gruesome to put that there, considering the canned food you bought is made from fish. still, you hope the cat will appreciate it.

the cat is still there as if it’s understood and blessed you with patience. the unimpressed look it has on its face says otherwise, though. grateful, you kneel beside it, slightly mesmerized by the fact that it hasn’t run away yet.

maybe other people are feeding it, too? it doesn’t look worryingly thin. needs a little cleaning, but looks well-fed. you’re relieved.

“here you go,” you coo, ignoring the strange looks of the passersby. you place the bowl down and crack open the can. the smell has the cat walking over, meowing all crankily. “i know, i know.”

the cat doesn’t dig in until you’ve finished shaking off its contents, staring at you in the same way the itoshi guy in your class would. the resemblance is uncanny.

you spend the rest of your afternoon keeping the cat company. its face speaks as if it’s far from amused, but the way it rubs against your ankle contradicts it.

cute. the cat is cute.

another student comes to visit the cat, carrying two cans of cat food. it’s been sitting in the plastic for a little while because as he had been going in the same routine he usually has, he spots you, his classmate, bent to the knees next to his cat, and paused.

rin thinks you’re scared of him because everyone in the class is. he lets you have your moment, choosing to come back later when you’ve finished so you don’t freak out and scare the cat. he thinks he can strike up a conversation tomorrow where there are no cats to frighten.

the cat walks up to him, instantly familiar. he doesn’t even meow up at rin impatiently, which confirms rin’s suspicions.

“y/n fed you well,” he mumbles. “i guess you can have this tomorrow.”

you’re suddenly all too aware that rin sits in front of you. he’s right there, uniform stretched over his broad back, most likely because he’s the prodigy of soccer in your school.

the neatness of his hair reminds you of the cat from yesterday, with its silky dark fur despite being a stray. you resist the urge to touch it, missing the cat already. you make a mental note to refill your water bottle so the cat can drink after.

while left thinking about the fact that you’re three dollars shorter than yesterday's budget, you fail to notice that class has ended and rin has his arm slung over the top of his chair to turn to look at you.

rin’s eyes flicker down to the paper bag next to your feet. “what’s that for?”

startled by the smoothness of his voice directed at you, you choke out a: “t-this?” you gesture lamely at the bag containing the gruesome bowl.

“what else am i referring to?”

you scrunch your nose. “okay, no need to be so rude. maybe i won’t tell you what it is.”

rin stares, and you’re intensely reminded of piercing eyes looking up at you, patiently waiting for the canned tuna.

“it’s a cat bowl,” you murmur, defeated.

“cat bowl,” he repeats, a gleam in his eye. he probably thinks you’re weirder than he already thinks you are.

“for a stray. i don’t want to bring it around because some other cat owner might steal it. i can’t have that.”

“show me,” he demands.

a little terrified by the fact that the class grump is actively maintaining a conversation with you; you obediently show him the bowl, spinning it around to show all sides. rin hums, contemplative. your classmates are starting to stare. “it’s weird, right? fishes for the print and fishes for dinner. do you like it?”

“lukewarm.”

“what does that even mean?”

“it’s too small. buy a new one.”

“...you think?”

rin nods, standing up. the chair screeches while he says, “i’ll come with you.”

this is how you end up in the same pet supply store with a companion this time. rin picks the most expensive one for the bowl and the canned cat food, which makes you think he must really like cats a lot.

but as you two leave the store, you belatedly realize he’s leading the way even though you never told him anything about the stray you meet.

it doesn’t hit you until the same cat meows and purrs at rin, rubbing against his pants with its entire body.

“hi,” rin says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you gape. “wait, the cat’s yours?”

rin bends down, knees to his chest while he sets the bowl down and cracks the can open with one finger. “no. dad’s allergic. he doesn’t follow me back home anyway.” while he does that, the cat comes to greet you, and your heart aches on rin’s behalf.

so he just comes to feed him every day, huh… you muse, gently scratching the cat who purrs at your attention but still looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“do you have a name for him?”

rin pauses, having finished pouring everything. “...no.” he squints at you as if you’ve just asked him the exact coordinates of his birthplace: sincerely confused.

“what do you call him, then?” you watch as the unnamed cat starts digging down on the food, content. you wonder why no one else has already kept this cat to themselves. he’s so cute and polite.

“cat.”

“ah, of course.”

you two watch ‘cat’ eat, content with the silence. it starts to drizzle moments later, but rin is quick to pull out an umbrella and cover all three of you. the cat grumbles unhappily at the splatter of rain hitting him.

“do you always visit him?”

“yes.”

“do you like cats?”

“yes.”

a shame that allergies are the only thing keeping itoshi rin from getting a cat.

while you’re distracted, the cat goes back to rin. rin wastes no time bending down to pick him up, looking awfully domestic in the middle of a sidewalk in front of a busy coffee shop. your hands twitch to reach for your phone, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stare. they look so much alike.

cute, you think, horrified, rin looks so cute holding the cat.

while engulfed in rin’s arms, the cat meows at you. and you, with a too-tender heart, can’t resist.

“i’ll keep him,” you declare with newfound determination. “i’ll take care of him. if you let me keep the bowl you bought.”

rin’s eyes light up, though it wouldn’t have been evident if you hadn’t been his classmate and witnessed his varying expressions of death. (as if it was varying in the first place.)

“i’ll buy everything else he’ll like,” he says, like a true cat mom, his face glowing with barely concealed excitement.

since then, rin accompanies you home. you tell him that you’ve saved up three dollars from yesterday and now you have more than enough to buy a nice, cold drink and maybe catnip for the cat, but rin insists that he’ll pay for everything, including your beverage.

“you feed our son.”

“our son?” he repeats curiously.

“yes. he lives with me. he looks like you,” you explain absentmindedly, setting up the water dispenser on the new food bowl rin ended up buying. it no longer has fish for design or the painful lime green he bought the second time—instead, it’s a nice blue that compliments the cat’s eyes.

“and what are you implying is going on between us?”

you nearly spill water all over the floor. “i…” you honestly did not think about that, “—nevermind. don’t make it weird, itoshi!”

you think you heard rin chuckling, but you’re too busy being embarrassed to bother.

(during class, you will find that rin is far from intimidating. in fact, he’s actually a little bitch to deal with. you’re starting to think that he’s more of a pain to deal with than an actual grumpy cat.

“don’t forget to buy food for our son,” rin says after class, in front of students who gossip like there is no tomorrow.

“what?”

“for our son,” rin says, nonplussed at the sight of your haunted expression.

someone who has overheard the conversation pipes up, “you two have a son?”

“we don’t!” you hiss, face burning with embarrassment at the sudden influx of attention from your classmates.

rin frowns. “don’t lie.”

“you two are starting to act like a married couple recently…” another comments offhandedly.

“itoshi walks y/n home, i saw!”

“we have a son,” rin agrees, and you’re starting to think that he’s doing it on purpose.

“stop saying that!”)

thank u art aanobrain for giving me the idea of rin just naming the cat ‘cat’. that idea is so special to me.

anyway. RIN IS SO HARD TO WRITE HELPPPP. this was an excruciating process i genuinely did not know if i did anything right but WHAT’S DONE IS DONE. thx for reading <3

꒰ 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ꒱ 박성호

summary : you and your husband were throwing a bbq party, and sungho has somehow convinced you he was going to grill

genre : fluff, husband!sungho x afab!reader, girldad!sungho, non-idol!au, bbqdad!au tws : kisses, language, bad bbq puns, father sungho author notes : this is zanna's fault for indulging my delusions word count : 1.3k

“hey babygrill.” 

you turned, “sungho—”

“is it hot grill summer?” he asked, a wood-handled, metal spatula clutched between his fingers. “because you’re smoking hot.” you cringed, holding back a laugh as he leaned sideways, fingers turning the dial on the front of the grill. the vein in his neck strained with the angle, making it prominent against the midday sunlight. the defined muscles of his arms flexed, and you stared like you’d never seen him before—even though you’d been married to him for two years now, dating him for three before that. you reached out, tracing the lines, feeling the heat from the grill and sun combine against his untainted-tan skin. 

“i’m going to get our daughter ready,” he ignored your touch, knowing it wasn’t anything new. he liked it though, knowing you weren’t like that before him. “myself, too.”

“sure, babe.” he replied, hovering his palm a few inches over the metal rack he had cleaned just a couple minutes ago. “go ahead. i’ve got this all under control.”

who was he really trying to convince? you thought. your husband wasn’t a master chef by any means, but when you craved late-night snacks, he was definitely the man for the job.

“are you sure,” you quizzed. “maybe don’t start until i get back?”

“my love,” he met your eyes, head still slightly hung as he adjusted the heat. his longer hair fell to the side effortlessly, cascading like a waterfall. “i’ll be fine.”

“oh no,” you laughed. “i’m worried about my house, sungho.” 

he faked being offended. “what the hell? i’m a great chef!”

“you’re great at a lot of things, baby, there’s no doubt about it, but cooking just isn’t one of them.” his fake started to become genuine, arms crossing over his broad chest. you tried hard not to stare again. “right now!” you added, “practice makes perfect! but, just wait for me to supervise. i would like for there to be a backyard to have this party in…” you kissed his shoulder. “please?” 

ultimately, you always won him over. “fine, i’ll cut up stuff for the sides instead.” you weren't sure about that either, however it’s something you’ve made him do often for you. so, it should go fine, shouldn’t it? “but, hurry, i’d like to get these burgers sizzling. you could say, the steaks are high, right now, y/n. want them to be grate for our family and friends.” 

you mentally facepalmed. when did you marry such a cheesy guy? you guess it's for the best that he became a dad after all, with these (terrible) jokes of his. 

you left him to attend to the vegetables for the burgers, finding your daughter in front of a fan on the couch, basking in the air that blew directly in her face. bluey was playing on the TV, the accents rubbing off on her slightly. 

she lit up, “mommy!”

“hi, baby.” you plopped down next to her, and she instantly nozzled against your side. “do you wanna bet on daddy burning something?” 

she eyed you, then nodded, “seven fruit snacks.” you hummed, seemingly thinking it over. but before you had the chance to agree, she added, “and 45 minutes past bedtime.”

you cocked your head, slightly in disbelief, but mostly in amusement. 

“deal.” you held your hand for her to take, which she did (hand significantly smaller than yours) closing the bargain. “i have faith in my husband.” 

you lied, but regardless, you honestly wanted your miniature version to win.

you silently watched a couple more minutes with her, glancing at the clock on the wall. you threaded your hand through her hair, thinking about the styles you could put it into today; ultimately knowing what your kid would prefer. 

“first one ready gets dessert before dinner!”

she jumped off the couch, small legs carrying down the hall and presumably to the bathroom. you followed after a moment, hearing the water start to run.

once finished, you joined sungho outside again, prepared for guests to start showing up. he had to do a double take when you walked out, and if this was a cartoon, you feared his eyes would’ve been popping out of his head. 

“woah,” he snaked his hands around your waist, after abandoning the grill carelessly, planting a couple kisses against your lips and surrounding skin. “damn, are you a5 wagyu?” he murmured, eyes roaming over your figure, “‘cause you look expensive.”  

you caught the look your (almost) three year old daughter gave him; the same one she gave tomatoes. you stifled a laugh against his lips.  

“ew, daddy!” she shrieked at your kiss, wiggling in your arms to push him back. “that’s my mommy!” she argued, throwing her small limbs around your neck and puckering her lips against your cheek. 

“i’m sorry, baby.” he put his palm to your daughter's head gently, kissing her temple. “I’m just letting your mom follow my apron’s instructions.” he revealed said tightly-tied clothing: kiss the chef adorned with fake abs (not that he needed them) printed on it. once again, you wondered when you married such an unserious guy. 

she began to hysterically laugh, and you guffawed, sungho taking her from you gladly. she hugged around his neck, “damn girly, you got a grip.” she squeezed tighter, kissing his cheek too. “i almost passed out!” that prompted a competition between the two, giggles sounding throughout the backyard as your daughter hugged tighter and tighter. 

you were only interrupted when his parents voices cut through the noise, “where’s my pretty princess of a granddaughter?” suddenly said girl was pushing from your husband, trying her hardest to be put down; her grandparents were arguably her second-favorite people. they took care of her during your date-nights and any other time sungho would ask. you’d never had a good relationship with your parents, but you were glad that they took you in for your daughter and husband's sake. 

they met your side, gaining a hug from you. 

“daddy! put me down!” she whined, causing you to giggle at the sight, “please!” 

he shook his head, attacking her with more hugs and kisses. 

it was refreshing to see such a man who wasn’t afraid to show his love and adoration for someone–especially his daughter. 

finally she broke free, running the short distance to sungho’s dad and jumping into his arms. she resumed the game with him, arms wrapping around his neck. 

“i made you something last night!” her attempt to get put down was easier than before, and once she hit the ground she was off, ushering her grandma and grandpa to follow into the house. “c’mon, it’s for your fridge!” 

sungho met your side once again, arm around your midsection, your head laid on his shoulder. you were glad you started a family with him of all people, even though when you were younger you weren't sure you would ever have wanted kids; but everything just felt so safe and secure with him. every doubt and uncertainty was put to rest when he was around. 

“she converted me into a girl-dad.” 

you laughed, “babe, you’ve always been a girl dad. do you remember when we found out, no one cried harder than you did.” 

he waved you off with a pfft sound, “she’s just so adorable, you can’t blame me.” he broke away, arms up innocently, standing back. “she’s a miniature version of you.” 

you spun to face him, “no, she’s exactly like you, baby. terrible humor, no respect for bedtime, fluffy-ass hair.” 

a hum resonated. he was staring again, eyes flicking over you casually. “should we have another, you think? another girl, but i’d love a miniature version of me, too.” your eyebrows rose in amusement, until your attention found itself locked behind him on the copious amount of smoke. 

“it’s burning.” 

“yeah, i know.” he said in a duh-tone, words adorned with his eyes rolling, “you’re hotter than the grill.”

“no, babe.” you grabbed his bare shoulders, spinning him around. “there’s actually a fire right now.” 

“oh my god!” you didn’t need to be facing him to see his eyes go wide, shoulders tensing under your grip. you giggled, sungho moving quickly to grab the tongs from the side table and move the food from the flame that had developed. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked, slightly frantic. 

“i guess you could say… missteaks were made.”

he turned slowly, a shit-eating grin across his face, “i knew you liked them.”

of course you did. it was sungho. 

suddenly a voice called out, “mommy, you owe me my fruit snacks!”

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